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Cornell University Library 
 
 PS 1099.B5N6 1880 
 
 Nick of the Woods :a story of the early 
 
 3 1924 021 983 204 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021983204 
 
Grasping Edith tightlj- in his arms, Braxley turned his 
 horse's head to fly from the scene. Page 356. 
 Frontist>iece Nick of the Woods 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 A PBOULiAELT romantic interest has ever been attached 
 to the name and history of Kentucky — the first region of 
 the great ultramontane Wilderness penetrated by the 8ag- 
 genah, or Englishman — the first torn from its aboriginal 
 possessors, and converted from a desert hunting-ground 
 into the home of civilized men. The ramblings of the soli- 
 tary Boone, in vi^hose woodland adventures we recognize the 
 influence of the wild passion, as common on the American 
 frontier as in the poet's closet : 
 
 "To roam for food, and be a naked man, 
 And wander up and down at liberty" — 
 
 and the fierce strife of those who followed in his paths, with 
 the lords of the forest, are chapters in its annals, which, if 
 they be not themselves poetry, are productive of all its 
 effects on the minds of the dreamy and imaginative. 
 
 But apart from the charm the history of Kentucky pos- 
 sesses for the romantic, it has an interest scarcely inferior 
 for the grave and reflecting. This is derived from a con- 
 sideration of the character of the men by whom, in the 
 midst of difficulties and dangers as numerous and urgent — ■ 
 perhaps more so than ever attended the establishing any 
 colony in North America — were laid, upon a basis as firm 
 as if planned by the subtlest and wisest spirits of the age, 
 the foundations of a great and powerful State. They were, 
 with but few exceptions, men drawn from what, in our 
 vanity, we call the humbler spheres of life — farmers and 
 hunters, the mountaineers of Virginia and the Carolinas — ■ 
 men '^bom," to use the words of their own historian, "in 
 
 iii 
 
vr PREFACE. 
 
 indigence, and nurtured in ignorance, thrown upon the 
 world without a ray of science to guide, or even the rudi- 
 ments by which it was to be obtained ;" but who, under all 
 these disadvantages, without the influence of any great and 
 experienced mind to impel, direct, or counsel, succeeded in 
 their vast enterprise, wrested from the savage the garden- 
 land of his domain, and secured to their conquest all the 
 benefits of civil government and laws. Their success may 
 be considered a phenomenon in history ; but the philosophic 
 examiner will perhaps find in it an illustration of the 
 efficacy of the republican principle in enlarging the mind, 
 and awakening the energies of men whom the influence of 
 another code of political faith would have kept in the dark- 
 ness and insignificance to which they were born. It is not 
 to be denied that men of education and refinement were to 
 be found among the earlier settlers of Kentucky; but the 
 most prominent and distinguished founders, the command- 
 ers of the stations, the leaders of the military forces — ^those 
 who are, and must continue to be, recollected as the true 
 fathers of the State, were such persons as we have described, 
 ignorant but ardent, unpolished and unpretending, yet 
 brave, sagacious, and energetic — the very men, in fact, for 
 the time and the occasion. 
 
 ' These remarks will serve as an explanation, and, if it 
 be necessary, as an apology for some of the characters that 
 figure in the following pages, particularly that of the hon- 
 est colonel of militia. In a story written to illustrate the 
 early period in which those men were busily engaged in 
 strengthening and securing their little State — a period the 
 darkest and stormiest in the annals of the Indian border — 
 it was both fitting and necessary that some representative 
 of the race should appear. The outlines may be ruder than 
 was proper or Just; but they will be the better foil to the 
 generous qualities of spirit, common at that day to all the 
 men of Brace's class. 
 
 I An objection of the same kind may perhaps apply to the 
 character of Ralph Stackpole. But that, we beg the reader 
 \g TOdergtftsdj is no portrait ivmn frocft imagination, fj^e 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 history of this wild seape-gallows, his prowess in the pin- 
 fold and the battlefield, his adventure on the beech-tree, 
 and his escape from the meshes of the law, with other char- 
 acteristic events not included in our relation, are recollec- 
 tions still cherished in some parts of Kentucky, and made 
 the theme of many a gleesome story. 
 
 The story of Wandering Nathan has a similar foundation 
 in truth ; but its origin belongs to one of the western coun- 
 ties of Pennsylvania. 
 
 We owe, perhaps, some apology for the hues we have 
 thrown around the Indian portraits in our picture — ^hues 
 darker than are usually employed by the painters of such 
 figures. But we confess, the North American savage has 
 never appeared to us the gallant and heroic personage he 
 seems to others. The single fact that he wages war — sys- 
 tematic war — ^upon beings incapable of resistance or defence 
 — ^upon women and children, whom all other races in' the 
 world, no matter how barbarous, consent to spare, has 
 hitherto been, and we suppose to the end of our days will 
 remain, a stumbling-block to our imagination ; we look into 
 the woods for the mighty warrior, the "feather-cintured 
 chief," rushing to meet his foe, and behold him retiring 
 laden with the scalps of miserable squaws and their babes. 
 Heroical ? Hoc verhum quid valeat, non vident. 
 
Nick of the Woods 
 
 A STORY OF THE EARLY SETTLERS 
 IN KENTUCKY 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 With Four Page Illustrations 
 By J. WATSON DAVIS 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
 NEW YORK 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 The world was all before them, where to choose 
 Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: 
 They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow. 
 Through Eden took their solitary way. 
 
 — Paradise Lost. 
 
 If we can believe the immortal poet from whom we have 
 taken the above lines, to serve as our letter of introduction 
 to the gentle reader, the grief of our first parents for the 
 loss of Paradise was not so deep and overwhelming but that 
 they almost immediately found comfort, when they re- 
 flected they had exchanged it for the land of Eden — ^itself 
 a paradise, though an earthly and unsanctified one : 
 
 "Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon." 
 
 The Exiles of America, who first forsook their homes on 
 the borders of the Atlantic to build their hearths among 
 the deserts of the West, had a similar consolation; they 
 were bending their steps towards a land to which rumor 
 at first, and afterwards the reports of a thousand adven- 
 turous visitants, had affixed the character of a second Ely- 
 sium. The Dorado of the Spaniards, with its cities built 
 of gold, its highways paved with diamonds and rubies, was 
 not more captivating to the brains of Sir Walter Kaleigh 
 and his fellow freebooters of the sixteenth century, than 
 was the Kentucky of the red men, with its fertile fields 
 and ever-blooming forests to the imaginations of their de- 
 scendants two hundred years after. It was unnatural^ in- 
 
2 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 deed, that men should regard as an Eden the land in ■which 
 the gallant Daniel Boone, while taking his "pleasing 
 ramble" on the 32d of December, 1769, discovered "myriads 
 of trees, some gay with blossoms, others rich with fruits;" 
 which blossoms and fruits, as he tells us, were "beautifully 
 colored, elegantly shaped, and charmingly flavored." 
 
 It might be difficult, in these degenerate days, to find 
 fruits and flowers adorning any forest in Kentucky at , 
 Christmas; yet there was enough, and more than enough, 
 in the wild beauty and unexampled fertility of the coun- 
 try, to excuse the rapture of the hunter, and to warrant 
 high expectations on the part of the eastern emigrants, to 
 whom he had opened a path through the wilderness, which 
 they were not slow to follow. A strong proof of the real 
 attractions of the land was to be seen in the crowds rushing 
 towards it, year after year, regardless of all adverse cir- 
 cumstances. Suffering and privation of all kinds were to 
 be endured on the long and savage road, in which mountain, 
 river, bog, and forest were to be passed, and often, too, in 
 the teeth of a lurkiag foe ; while peril of every imaginable 
 aspect was still to be encountered, when the journey was at 
 an end. The rich fields, — ^the hunting-grounds of a dozen 
 tribes of Indians, — ^to be possessed, were first to be won, 
 and won from an enemy at once brave and cruel, resolute 
 and wily, who had shown no disposition to yield them ex- 
 cept with life, and who had already stained them with the 
 best blood of the settler. Such evils were well known to 
 exist; but they imposed little check on the ardor of ad- 
 venturers; the tide of emigration, at first a little rivulet, 
 lost among forests, increased to a river, the river grew into 
 a flood, overflowing the whole land; and in 1793, sixteen 
 years after the first block-house was built in the woods, the 
 "wilderness" of Kentucky was admitted into the Federal 
 Union, a free and sovereign State, with a population of 
 seventy-five thousand souls. 
 
 Ten years before that happy event — ^for it is to this 
 early period we must ask the attention of the reader — ^the 
 Shawnee and the Wyandot still hunted the bear and 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 3 
 
 butfalo in the cane-brake, and waylaid the settler at the 
 gates of his solitary stronghold. The "District of Ken- 
 tucky," then within the territorial jurisdiction of Vir- 
 ginia, comprised but three inhabited counties, Fayette, 
 Jefferson, and Lincoln; of which, to play the geographer 
 briefly, we need only say, that the first occupied all the 
 country north and east of the Kentucky river; the second 
 all the region west of that river as far as Green river, which, 
 with the redoubtable Salt, the river of Eoarers, formed also 
 its southern bounds; while the third extended over all 
 the territory lying south of the two other, and was there- 
 fore the first reached by emigrants coming from Virginia 
 and the Carolinas through the Gap of the Cumberlands. 
 In these counties the settlements were already somewhat 
 numerous, although confined, for the most part, to the 
 neighborhood of the stations, or forts, which were the only 
 effectual places of refuge for the husbandman and his 
 family, when the enemy was abroad in the land. These 
 stations were mere assemblages of huts, sometimes in num- 
 ber approaching to villages, surrounded, or at least con- 
 nected, hut to hut, by ranges of strong palisades, easily de- 
 fended against assailants armed only with knives and rifles. 
 Founded in the first place, by some bold and resolute pio- 
 neer, each station, as the land filled with settlers, was en- 
 larged to receive other inhabitants, who were glad to unite 
 with the founder in defending from attacks a place so 
 necessary to their own safety, and easily conceded him a 
 kind of military authority over them, which was usually 
 confirmed by a commission from the State, on the division 
 of the district into counties, and exercised with the mili- 
 tary spirit, on all proper occasions. 
 
 The sun of an August afternoon, 1783, was yet blazing 
 upon the rude palisades and equally rude cabins of one 
 of the principal stations in Lincoln county, when a long 
 train of emigrants, issuing from the southern forest, wound 
 its way over the clearings, and among the waving maize 
 fields that surrounded the settlement, and approached the 
 chief gate of its enclosure. 
 
4 NICK OF THE "WOODS, 
 
 The party was numerous, consisting perhaps of seven or 
 eight score individuals in all, men, women, and children, 
 the last bearing that proportion to the others in point of 
 numbers usually found in a borderer's family; and thus, 
 with the help of pack-horses, cattle, and a few negroes, the 
 property of the more wealthy emigrants, scattered here 
 and there throughout the assemblage, giving to the whole 
 train the appearance of an army, or moving village, of 
 Vandals in quest of some new home to be won with the 
 edge of the sword. Of the whole number there were at 
 least fifty well armed ; some of these, however, being strip- 
 lings of fourteen, and, in one or two instances, even of 
 twelve, who balanced the big rifle on their shoulders, or 
 sustained it over their saddle bows, with all the gravity 
 and dignity of grown warriors; while some few of the 
 negroes were provided with the same formidable weapons. 
 In fact, the dangers of the journey through the wilder- 
 ness required that every individual of a party should be 
 well armed, who was at all capable of bearing arms; and 
 this was a kind of capacity which necessity instilled into 
 the American frontiersman in the earliest infancy. 
 
 Of this armed force, such as it was, the two principal 
 divisions, all well mounted, or at least provided with 
 horses, which they rode or not as the humor seized them, 
 were distributed in military order on the front and in the 
 rear; while scouts leading in the van, and flanking-parties 
 beating the woods on either side, where the nature of the 
 country permitted, indicated still further the presence of 
 a martial spirit on the part of the leaders. The women 
 and children, stowed carefully away for the most part, 
 with other valuable chattels, on the backs of pack-horses, 
 were mingled with droves of cattle in the centre, many of 
 which were made to bear burdens as well as the horses. 
 Of wheeled carriages there was not a single one in the 
 whole train, the difficulties of the road, which was a mere 
 bridle path, being such that they were never, at that early 
 period, attempted to be brought into the country, unless 
 when conveyed in boats down the Ohio. 
 
NICK or THE WOODS. 5 
 
 Thus marshalled, and emerging from the depth of the 
 forest into the clearings around the station, there was 
 something in the appearance of the train, wild, singular 
 and striking. The tall and robust frames of the men, 
 wrapped in blanket-coats and hunting-frocks, — some of 
 which, where the wearers were young and of gallant tem- 
 * pers, were profusely decked with fringes of yellow, green, 
 and scarlet ; the gleam of their weapons, and the tramp of 
 their horses, gave a military air to the whole typical, it 
 might be supposed, of the sanguinary struggle by which 
 alone the desert was to be won from the wandering bar- 
 barian; while the appearance of their families, with their 
 domestic beasts, and the implements of husbandry, was in 
 harmony with what might be supposed the future destinies 
 of the land, when peaceful labor should succeed to the 
 strife of conquest. 
 
 The exiles were already in the heart of their land of 
 promise, and many within view of the haven where they 
 were to end their wanderings. Smiles of pleasure lighted 
 their way-worn countenances, as they beheld the waving 
 fields of maize and the gleam of the distant cabins; and 
 their satisfaction was still further increased, when the peo- 
 ple of the station, catching sight of them, rushed out, 
 some mounted and others on foot, to meet them, uttering 
 loud shouts of welcome, such as, in that day, greeted every 
 band of newcomers; and adding to the clamor of the re- 
 ception a feu-de-joie, which they fired in honor of the num- 
 bers and martial appearance of the present company. The 
 salutation was requited, and the stirring hurrahs returned 
 by the travellers, most of whom pressed forward to the 
 van in disorder, eager to take part in the merrymaking ere 
 it was over, or, perhaps, to seek for friends who had pre- 
 ceded them in the journey through the wilderness. Such 
 friends were in many instances found, and their loud and 
 affectionate greetings were mingled with the scarce less 
 cordial welcomes extended by the colonists even to the un- 
 known stranger. Such was the reception of the emigrants 
 at that period and in that country, where men were united 
 
B NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 together by a sense of common danger; and where every 
 armed visitor, besides being an accession to the strength of 
 the colonists, brought with him such news of absent friends 
 and still remembered homes as was sure to recommend him 
 to favor. 
 
 The only individual who, on this occasion of rejoicing, 
 preserved a melancholy countenance, and who, instead of 
 riding forward like the others, to shake hands with the 
 people of the station, betrayed an inclination to avoid their 
 greeting altogether, was a young man, who, from the posi- 
 tion he occupied in the band, and from other causes, was 
 entitled to superior attention. With the rank and nomi- 
 nal title of second captain,— a dignity conferred upon him 
 by his companions, — ^he was, in reality the commander of 
 the party, the ostensible leader being, although a man of 
 good repute on the Virginia border, entirely wanting in the 
 military reputation and skill which the other had ac- 
 quired in the armies of the Eepublics, and of which the 
 value was fully appreciated, when danger first seemed to 
 threaten the exiles on their march. He was a youth of 
 scarce twenty-three years of age; but five of those years 
 had been passed in camps and battles ; and the labors, pas- 
 sions, and privations of his profession had antedated the 
 period of manhood. A frame tall and athletic, a counte- 
 nance which, although retaining the smoothness and fresh- 
 ness of youth, was yet marked with the manly gravity and 
 decision of mature life, added, in appearance, at least six 
 years to his age. He wore a hunting-frock of the plainest 
 green color, with cap and leggings of leather, such as were 
 worn by many of the poorest or least pretending exiles; 
 like whom also he bore a rifle on his shoulder, with the 
 horn and other equipments of a hunter. There was little, 
 therefore, to distinguish him, at the first view, from among 
 his companions; although his erect military bearing, and 
 the fine blooded bay horse which he rode, would have won 
 him more than a passing look. The holsters at his saddle- 
 bow, and the sabre at his side, were weapons not indeed very 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 7 
 
 generally worn by frontiersmen, but still common enough 
 to preserve their being regarded as badges of rank. 
 
 With this youthful officer, the rear-guard, which he 
 commanded, having deserted him to press forward to the 
 van, there remained only three persons, two of whom were 
 negro slaves, both mounted and armed, who followed at a 
 little distance behind, leading thrice their number of pack- 
 horses. The third was a female, who rode closely at his 
 side, the rein of her pony being, in fact, grasped in his 
 hand ; though he looked as if scarce conscious that he held 
 it, — a degree of insensibility that would have spoken little 
 in his favor to an observer, for his companion was both 
 young and beautiful, and watched his moody countenance 
 on her part with looks of the most anxious and affectionate 
 interest. Her riding habit, chosen like his own garments, 
 with more regard to usefulness than beauty, and perhaps 
 somewhat the worse for its encounters with the wind and 
 forest, could not conceal the graceful figure it defended; 
 nor had the sunbeam, though it had darkened the bright 
 complexion exposed to its summer fury, during a journey 
 of more than six weeks, robbed her fair visage of a single 
 charm. There was, in the general cast of features, a suffi- 
 cient resemblance between the two to indicate near re- 
 lationship; although it was plain that the gloom seated 
 upon the brow of her kinsman, as if a permanent character- 
 istic, was an unwelcome and unnatural visitant on her 
 own. The clear blue eye, the golden locks floating over her 
 temples, the ruddy cheek and lip of seventeen, and, gen- 
 erally, the frank and open character of her expression, be- 
 tokened a spirit too joyous and elastic to indulge in those 
 dark anticipations of the future or mournful recollections 
 of the past, which clouded the bosom of her relative. And 
 it was well for her that such was the cheerful temper of 
 her mind; for, from her whole appearance, it was mani- 
 fest that her lot, as originally cast, must have been among 
 the gentle, the refined, and the luxurious, and that she waa 
 now, for the first time, exposed to discomfort, hardship, 
 8B!j mfl§m^f among comp^jijpns, who, boweyer kind io, 
 
8 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 their conduct, were unpolished in their habits, conversa- 
 tion, and feelings, and in every other respect unfitted to 
 be her associates. 
 
 She looked upon the face of her kinsman, and seeing 
 that it grew the darker and gloomier the nearer they ap- 
 proached the scene of rejoicing, she laid her hand upon his 
 arm, and murmured softly and afEectionately : 
 
 "Eoland, — cousin, — brother! — what is it that disturbs 
 you ? Will you not ride forward, and salute the good peo- 
 ple that are making us welcome?" 
 
 "Us !" muttered the young man with a bitter voice ; "who 
 is there on earth, Edith, to welcome us? Where shall we 
 look for the friends and kinsfolk, that the meanest of the 
 company are now finding among yonder noisy barbarians ?" 
 
 "You do them injustice, Eoland," said the maiden. 
 "Yesternight we had experi^hce, at the station we left, 
 that these wild people of the woods do not confine their 
 Welcomes to kinsmen. Kinder and more hospitable people 
 do not exist in the world." 
 
 "It is not that, Edith," said the young man; "I were 
 but a brute to doubt their hospitality. But look, Edith; 
 We are in Kentucky, almost at our place of refuge. Yon- 
 der hovels, lowly, mean, and wretched, — are they the man- 
 sions that should shelter the child of my father's brother? 
 Yonder people, the outcasts of our borders, the poor, the 
 rude, the savage, — ^but one degree elevated above the In- 
 dians, with whom they contend, — are they the society from 
 whom Edith Forrester should choose her friends?" 
 
 "They are," said Edith, firmly; "and Edith Forrester 
 asks none better. In such a cabin as these, and, if need 
 be, in one still more humble, she is content to pass her life, 
 and dream that she is still in the house of her fathers. 
 From such people, too, she will choose her friends, know- 
 ing that even among the humblest of them there are many 
 worthy of her regard and affection. What have we to 
 mourn in the world we have left behind us? We are the 
 last of our name and race; fortune has left us nothing to 
 regret. My only relation on earth, saving yourself, Eo- 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 9 
 
 land, — saving yourself, my cousin, my brother," — ^her lip 
 quivered, and, for a moment, her eyes were filled with 
 tears, — "my only other living relation resides in this wil- 
 derness-land ; and she, tenderly nurtured as myself, finds 
 in it enough to engage her thoughts and secure her happi- 
 ness. Why, then, should not I? Why should not you? 
 Trust me, dear Eoland, I should myself be as happy as the 
 day is long, could I only know that you did not grieve for 
 me." 
 
 "I cannot but choose it," said Eoland. "It is to me 
 you owe the loss of fortune and your present banishment 
 from the world." 
 
 "Say not so, Eoland, for it is not true. No ! I never 
 can believe that our poor uncle would have carried his re- 
 sentment for such a cause so far. But supposing that he 
 could, and granting that all were as you say, I am prouder 
 to be the poor cousin of Eoland Forrester, who has bled in 
 the battles of his country, than if I were the rich and 
 courted kinswoman of one who had betrayed the memory 
 of his father." 
 
 "You are, at least, an angel," said the youth ; "and I am 
 but a villain to say or do any thing to give you pain. Fare- 
 well then to Fell-hollow, to old James Eiver, and all ! If 
 you can forget these things, Edith, so will I ; at all events, 
 I wm try." 
 
 "Now," said Edith, "you talk like my true cousin." 
 
 "Well, Edith, the world is before us; and shame be 
 upon me, if I, who have health, strength, and youth to 
 back my ambition, cannot provide you a refuge and a home. 
 I will leave you for awhile in the hands of this good aunt 
 at the Falls; and then, with old Emperor there for my 
 adjutant, and Sam for my rank and file, I vrill plunge into 
 the forest, and scatter it, as I have seen a band of tories 
 scattered by my old major (who, by the bye, is only three 
 years older than myself), Henry Lee, not many years back. 
 Then, when I have built me a house, furrowed my acres 
 with my martial ploughshare (for to that, it appears, my 
 sword must come), and reaped my harvest with my own 
 
10 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 hands (it will be hard work to beat my horse-pistols into 
 a sickle), then, Edith " 
 
 "Then, Eoland," said the maiden, with a smile and a 
 tear, "if you should still remember your poor cousin, it 
 will not be hard to persuade her to follow you to your re- 
 treat, to share your fortunes of good and of evil, and to 
 love you better in your adversity than she ever expected to 
 love you in your prosperity." 
 
 "Spoken like my true Edith!" said the young ofiBcer, 
 whose melancholy fled before her soft accents, as the evil 
 spirit of Saul before the tinklings of the Jewish harp, — 
 "spoken like my true Edith, for whom I promise, if fate 
 smile upon my exertions, to rear a new Fell-hollow on the 
 banks of Ohio, in which I will be, myself, the first to for- 
 get that on James Eiver. And now, Edith, let us ride for- 
 ward and meet yon gay-looking giant, whom, from his 
 bustling demeanor, and fresh jerkin, I judge to be the 
 commander of the station, the redoubtable Colonel Bruce 
 himself." 
 
 As he spoke, the individual thus alluded to, separating 
 himself from the throng, galloped up to the speaker, and 
 displayed a person which excited the envy of even the 
 manly-looking Forrester. He was a man of at least fifty 
 years, but as hale as one of thirty, without a single grey 
 hair to deform the beauty of his raven locks, which fell 
 down in masses nearly to his shoulders. His stature was 
 colossal, and the proportions of his frame as Just as they 
 were gigantic ; so that there was much in his appearance of 
 real native majesty. Nothing, in fact, could be well 
 imagined more truly striking and grand than his appear- 
 ance, as seen at the first glance; though the second re- 
 vealed a lounging indifference of carriage, amounting, at 
 times, to something like awkwardness and uncouthness, 
 which a little detracted from the effect. Such men were 
 ofttimes, in those days, sent from among the mountain 
 counties of Virginia, to amaze the lesser mortals of the 
 plains, who regarded them a,s the genii of the forest, an4 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. H 
 
 almost looked, as was said of the victor of the Kenhawa,* 
 himself of the race, to see the earth tremble beneath their 
 footsteps. With a spirit corresponding to his frame, he 
 would have been the Nimrod, or Meleager, that he seemed. 
 But nature had long before extinguished the race of demi- 
 gods, and the worthy commander of the station was not 
 of them. He was a mortal man, distinguished by little, 
 save his exterior, from other mortal men, and from the 
 crowd of settlers who had followed him from the fortress. 
 He wore, it is true, a new and jaunty hunting-shirt of 
 dressed deer-skin, as yellow as gold, and fringed and fur- 
 belowed with shreds of the same substance, dyed as red 
 as blood-root could make them; but was otherwise to the 
 view a plain yeoman, endowed with those gifts of mind 
 only which were necessary to his station, but with the 
 virtues which are alike common to forest and city. Cour- 
 age and hospitality, however, were then hardly accounted 
 virtues, being too universal to be distinguished as such; 
 and courtesy was equally native to the independent bor- 
 derer. 
 
 He shook the young officer heartily by the hand, a cere- 
 mony which he instantly repeated with the fair Edith ; and 
 giving them to understand that he claimed them as his 
 own especial guests, insisted, with much honest warmth, 
 that old companionship in arms with one of their late 
 nearest and dearest kinsmen had given him a double right 
 to do so. 
 
 "You must know," said he, "the good old major, your 
 uncle, the brave old Major Eoly, as we called him. Major 
 Eoland Forrester; — well, k'-yaptain, — well, young lady, — 
 my first battle war foght under his command, and an ex- 
 cellent commander he war. It war on the bloody Monon- 
 gahela, whar the Frenchmen and Injuns trounced us so 
 promiskous. Perhaps you've h'ard him tell of Big Tom 
 Bruce, for so they called me then? I war a copporal in 
 the first company of Rangers that crossed the river. Lord, 
 
 ■^M^^— ^ I I Mil I. II* I ■ ■ .. — .- ■ . .I... ■ I 11 J l I I 11^ Ml ■ ■ 
 
 * Gen* Andrew I^wis. 
 
12 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 how the world is turning upside down ! I war a copporal 
 then, and now I'm a k'-yunnel ; a greater man in commis- 
 sion than war ever my old major ; and the Lord he knows, 
 I thought my old Major Forrester war the greatest man in 
 all Virginnie, next to the g'-yovernor, and K'-yunnel 
 George Washington ! Well, you must know, we marched up 
 the g'yully that runs from the river, and bang went the 
 savages' g^yuns, and smash went their hatchets; and then 
 it came to close quarters, a regular rough-and-tumble hard 
 scratch ! And so I war a-head of the major, and the major 
 war behind, and the fight had made him as ambitious* as 
 a wild cat, and he war hungry for a shot; and so says he 
 to me, for I war right afore Mm, 'Git out of my way, you 
 damned big rascal, till I git a crack at 'em!' And so I 
 got out of his way, for I were mad at being called a damned 
 big rascal, especially as I war doing my best, and covering 
 him from mischief besides. Well, as soon as I jumped out 
 of his way, bang went his piece, and bang went another, 
 let fly by an Injun; — down went the major, shot right 
 through the hips, slam-bang. And so said I, 'Major,' — for 
 I warn't well over my passion, — 'if you'd 'a' taken things 
 easy, I'd 'a' stopped that slug for you.' And so says he, 
 'Bang away, you big fool, and don't stand talking.' And 
 so he swounded away; and that made me ambitious too, 
 and I kUled two of the red niggurs, before you could say 
 Jack Eobinson, just by way of satisfaction for the major, 
 and then I helped to carry him ofE to the tumbrels. I 
 never see'd my old major from that day to this, and it war 
 only a month ago that I h'ard of his death. I honor his 
 memory ; and so, k'-yaptain, you see, thar's a sort of claim 
 to old friendship between us." 
 
 To this characteristic speech, which was delivered with 
 great earnestness. Captain Forrester made a suitable re- 
 sponse; and intimating his willingness to accept the prof- 
 fered hospitality of his uncle's companion in arms, he 
 rode forward with his host and kinswoman towards the 
 
 * Amhiticms, — ^in Western parlance, vicious. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 13 
 
 station, of which, when once fairly relieved from the 
 forest, he had a clear view. 
 
 It was a quadrangle of stout pickets, firmly driven into 
 the earth, on the brow of a knoll of very gentle ascent, with 
 a strong, though low block-house at each comer, and was 
 sufficiently spacious to contain a double row of cabins, be- 
 tween which was a vacant area, as well as two others be- 
 twixt the cabins and the stockade, and thus afforded shelter 
 not only for its defenders and their families, but for their 
 cattle and horses, which were always driven in, if possible, 
 when an attack was apprehended. A sense of security, 
 arising from increase of numbers, and the absence of hos- 
 tilities for a long period, had begot a contempt for the con- 
 fined limits of the stockade, and a dozen or more of the 
 settlers had built their cabins without the enclosure, on 
 the slope of the hill, which had now assumed the appear- 
 ance of a village, though one, it must be confessed, of ex- 
 ceedingly rude and primitive appearance. The houses 
 were, in every instance, of logs, even to the chimneys, which 
 being, therefore, of a combustible temper, notwithstanding 
 the goodly daubing of clay with which they were plastered, 
 were made to incline outwards from the perpendicular, so 
 as to be detached from the building itself, as they rose. 
 By this arrangement the dangers of a conflagration were 
 guarded against; for when the burning of the chimney 
 involved, as doubtless it often did, the wooden materials of 
 the chimney itself, it was easy to tear it down before the 
 flames communicated to the cabin. 
 
 Such was the appearance of a fortified settlement, at 
 that time one of the most prominent of all the stations in 
 Kentucky; and when we repeat that the forest had van- 
 ished in its immediate vicinity, to make way for rich fields 
 of corn, — ^that divers great gaps were, at a distance, seen 
 in its massive green walls, where the tall oaks and walnuts, 
 girdled and leafless, but not yet fallen, admitted the sun- 
 shine upon other crops as rich and as verdant, — and that 
 all beyond and around was a dark and solemn wilderness, 
 the tree-top aloft, and the cane brake below, we have a 
 
14 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 proper idea of the aspect and condition of the lonely 
 strongholds which succeeding years saw changed into 
 towns and villages. 
 
 The station seemed nmisually populous, as, indeed, it 
 was; but Eoland, as he rode by, remarked, on the skirts 
 of the village, a dozen or more shooting targets set up on 
 the green, and perceived it was a gala day which had drawn 
 the young men from a distance to the fort. This, in fact, 
 he was speedily told by a youth, whom the worthy Bruce 
 introduced to him as his eldest son and namesake, 'T)ig 
 Tom Bruce, the third of that name ; the other two Toms — 
 for two others he had had— having been killed by the 
 Injuns, and he having changed the boy's name, that he 
 might have a Tom in the family." The youth was worthy 
 of his father, being full six feet high, though scarcely yet 
 out of his teens, and presented a visage of such serene 
 gravity and good-humored simplicity, as won the affec- 
 tions of the soldier in a moment. 
 
 "Thar's a boy now, the brute," said Colonel Bruce, send- 
 ing him off to assist in the distribution of the guests among 
 the settlers, "that comes of the best stock for loving wo- 
 Eoenjnd fighting. Injuns in all Kentucky! And so, cap- 
 tain, if young madam, your sister h'yar, is for picking a 
 husband out of Kentuck, I'll say it, and stand to it, thar's 
 not a better lad to be found than Tom Bruce, if you hunt 
 the district all over. You'd scarce believe it, mom," he 
 continued, addressing Edith herself, "but the young brute 
 did actually take the scalp of a fxdl-grown Shawnee be- 
 fore he war fourteen y'ar old, and that in fa'r fight, whar 
 thar war none to help him. The way of it war this : Tom 
 war out in the range looking for a neighbor's horse, when, 
 what should he see but two great big Shawnees astride of 
 the identicular beast he war hunting! Away went Tom, 
 and away went the bloody villains after, one of 'em afoot, 
 the other on the horse. 'Now,' said Tom, 'this won't do, 
 no how ;' and so he let fly at the mounted feller ; but being 
 a little skeary, as how could he help it, the young brute, 
 being the first tipie be ever banged at an Injun, be bit 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 15 
 
 the horse, which dropped down in a flurry, and away comes 
 the red devil over his head, like a rocket, eend on to a 
 sapling. Up jumps Tom, and picks up the Injun's gun; 
 and bang goes the other Shawnee at him, and jumps to a 
 tree. 'A bird in the hand,' said Tom, 'is worth two in a 
 bush;' and with that he blows out the first feller's brains, 
 just as he is getting up, and runs into the fort, hard chased 
 by the other. And then to see the feller, when I asked 
 him why he didn't shoot the Injun that had fired at him, 
 and so make sure of both, the other' being in a sort of a 
 swound-like from the tumble, and ready to be knocked on 
 the head at any moment? 'Lord!' said Tom, 'I never 
 thought of it, I war such a fool !' and with that he blub' 
 bered all night, to think he had not killed them both. How- 
 somever, I war always of opinion that what he had done 
 war good work for a boy of fourteen. But, come now, my 
 lovely young mom; we are entering the station. May you 
 never enter a house where you are less welcome." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Their talk, of course, ran most on the new comer. 
 
 — Don Juan. 
 The devil was in the girl! Could it be pride? 
 Or modesty, or absence, or inanity? 
 Heaven knows! 
 
 — Don Juan. 
 
 Men and boys had rushed from the fortress together, to 
 greet the new comers, and few remained save the women, 
 of whom not a few, particularly of the younger individuals, 
 were as eager to satisfy their curiosity as their fathers and 
 brothers. The disorderly spirit had spread even among 
 the daughters of the commandant, to the great concern of 
 his spouse, who, although originally of a degree somewhat 
 humbler even than his own, had a much more elevated 
 sense of the dignity of his commission as a colonel of 
 
16 NICK OF THE WOODS, 
 
 militia, and a due consciousness of the necessity of adapt- 
 ing her manners to her rank. She stood on the porch of 
 her cabin, which had the merit of being larger than any 
 other in the fort, maintaining order among some half- 
 dozen or more lasses, the oldest scarce exceeding seventeen, 
 whom she endeavored to range in a row, to receive the ex- 
 pected guests in state, though every moment some one or 
 other might be seen edging away from her side as if in the 
 act of deserting her altogether. 
 
 "Out on you, you flirting eritturs !" said she, ler in- 
 dignation provoked, and her sense of propriety shocked by 
 such unworthy behavior: — "Stop thar, you Nell! whar 
 are you going? You Sally, you Phoebe, you Jane, and 
 the rest of you ! ha'n^t you no better idea of what's manners 
 for a Gunnel's daughters? I'm ashamed of you, to run 
 ramping and tearing after the strange men thar, like tom- 
 boys, or any common person's daughters ! Laws ! do re- 
 member your father's a cunnel in the milishy, and set down 
 in the porch here on the bench, like genteel young ladies ; 
 or stand up, if you like that better, and wait till your 
 father Cunnel Bruce, that is, brings up the captains; one 
 of 'em's a rale army captain, with epaulets and broad- 
 sword, with a chance of money, and an uncommon hand- 
 some sister, — rale genteel people from old Virginnee: and 
 I'm glad of it — it's so seldom you sees any body but com- 
 mon persons come to Kentucky. Do behave yourselves; 
 thar's Telle Doe thar at the loom don't think so much as 
 turning her eyes around ; she's a pattern for you." 
 
 "Law, mother !" said the eldest of the daughters, brid- 
 ling with disdain, "I reckon I know how to behave myself 
 as well as Telle Doe, or any other girl in the settlement ;" — 
 a declaration echoed and re-echoed by her sisters, all of 
 whom bent their eyes towards a corner of the ample porch 
 where, busied with a rude loom, fashioned perhaps by the 
 axe and knife of the militia colonel himself, on which she 
 was weaving a coarse cloth from the fibres of the flax nettle, 
 sat a female somewhat younger than the oldest of the sis- 
 ters, and doubtless of a more humble degree, as was shown 
 
NICK OF THE 'WOODS. 1'? 
 
 by the labor in which she was engaged, while the others 
 seemed to enjoy a holiday, and by her coarse brown gar- 
 ments, worn at a moment when the fair Bruces were flaunt- 
 ing in their best bibs and tuckers, the same having been 
 put on not more in honor of the exiles, whose coming had 
 been announced the day before, than out of compliment to 
 the young men of the settlement, who were wont to as- 
 semble on such occasions to gather the latest news from the 
 States. 
 
 The pattern of good manners thus referred to, was as 
 unconscious of the compliment bestowed on her by the 
 worthy Mrs. Bruce as of the glances of disdain it drew 
 from the daughters, being apparently at that moment too 
 much occupied with her work to think of any thing else; 
 nor did she lift up her eyes until the conversation having 
 been resumed between the mother and daughters, one of 
 the latter demanded, "What was the name of that army 
 captain that was rich and great, of whom her mother had 
 been talking?" 
 
 "Captain Eoland Forrester," replied the latter; at the 
 sound of which name the maiden at the loom started and 
 looked up with an air of fright, that caused exceeding di- 
 version among the others. "Look at Telle Doe!" they 
 cried, laughing: "you can't speak above your breath but 
 she thinks you are speaking to her; and sure you can't 
 speak to her but she looks as if she would jump out of her 
 skin and run away for her dear life !" 
 
 And so, indeed, the girl did appear for a moment, look- 
 ing as wild and terrified as the animal whose name she 
 bore, when the first bay of the deerhound startles her in 
 the deep woodland pastures, rolling her eyes, catching her 
 breath convulsively, shivering, and, in short, betraying a 
 degree of agitation that would have appeared unaccount- 
 able to a stranger; though, as it caused more amusement 
 than surprise among the merry Bruces it was but fair to 
 suppose that it sprung from constitutional nervousness, 
 or the sudden interruption of her meditations. As she 
 started up in her confusion, rolling her eyes from one 
 
18 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 laughing maiden to another, her very trepidation imparted 
 an interest to her features, which were in themselves pretty 
 enough, though not so much as to attract observation when 
 in a state of rest. Then it was the observer might see, or 
 fancy he saw, a world of latent expression in her wild dark 
 eyes, and trace the workings of a quick and sensitive spirit, 
 whose existence would have been otherwise unsuspected in 
 the tremulous movement of her lips. And then, too, one 
 might have been struck with the exquisite contour of a 
 slight figure, which even the coarse garments, spun, and 
 perhaps shaped, by her own hands, could not entirely con- 
 ceal. At such times of excitement there was something in 
 her appearance both striking and singular, — Indian-like, 
 one might almost have said. Such an epithet might have 
 been borne out by the wildness of her looks, the dark- 
 ness of her eyes, the simple arrangement of her coal-black 
 hair, which, instead of being confined by comb or fillet, was 
 twisted round a thorn cut from the nearest locust tree, 
 and by the smallness of her stature; though the lightness 
 and European tinge of her complexion must have in- 
 stantly disproved the idea. 
 
 Her discomposure dispelled from the bosoms of her 
 companions all the little resentment produced by the ma- 
 tron's invidious comparison, and each did her best to in- 
 crease it by cries of "Jump, Telle, the Indians will catch 
 you!" "Take care, Telle, Tom Bruce will kiss you!" 
 "Eun, Telle, the dog will bite you !" and other expressions 
 of a like alarming nature, which, if they did not augment 
 her terror, divided and distracted her attention, till, quite 
 bewildered, she stared now on one, now on the other, and 
 at each mischievous assault started and trembled, and 
 gasped for breath, in inexpressible confusion. It was 
 fortunate for her that this species of baiting, which, from 
 the spirit and skill with which her youthful tormentors 
 pursued it, seemed no uncommon infliction, the reforming 
 mother considered to be, at least at that particular mo- 
 ment, unworthy the daughters of a colonel in the militia. 
 
 "Do behave yourselves, you ungenteel critturs," said 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 19 
 
 she! "Phoebe Bruce, you're old enough to know better; 
 don't expose yourself before strangers. Thar they come 
 now ; thar's Cunnel Bruce that is, talking to Captain For- 
 rester that is, and a right-down soldier-looking captain he 
 is too. I wonder whar's his cocked hat, and feather, and 
 gold epaulets. Thar's his big broad-sword, and — ^but Lord 
 above us, arn't his sister a beauty ! any man in Kentucky 
 will be proud of her; but, I warrant me, she'll take to 
 nothing under a cunnel !" 
 
 The young misses ceased their sport to stare at the stran- 
 gers, and even Telle Doe, pattern of propriety as she was, 
 had no sooner recovered her equanimity than she turned 
 her eyes from the loom and bent them eagerly upon the 
 train now entering through the main gate, gazing long and 
 earnestly upon the young captain and the fair Edith, who, 
 with the colonel of militia, and a fourth individual, parted 
 from it, and rode up to the porch. The fourth person, a 
 sober and substantial-looking borderer, in a huge blanket- 
 coat and slouched hat, the latter stuck round with buck's 
 tails, was the nominal captain of the party. He conversed 
 a moment with Forrester and the commandant, and then, 
 being given in charge by the latter to his son Tom, who 
 was hallooed from the crowd for this purpose, he rode 
 away, leaving the colonel to do the honors to his second 
 in command. These the colonel executed with much cour- 
 tesy and gallantry, if not with grace, leaping from his 
 horse with unexpected activity, and assisting Edith to dis- 
 mount, which he effected by taking her in his arms, and 
 whisking her from the saddle with as little apparent effort 
 as though he were handling an infant. 
 
 '^Welcome, my beautiful young lady," said he, giving 
 her another hearty shake of the hand. "H'yar's a house 
 that shall shelter you, though thar's not much can be said 
 of it, except that it is safe and wholesome. H'yar's my 
 old lady, too, and my daughters, that will make much of 
 you; and as for my sons, thar's not a brute of 'em that 
 won't fight for you; but th' ar* all busy stowing away the 
 strangers, and I reckon they think it arn't manners to 
 
30 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 show themseives to a young lady while she's making ac- 
 quaintance with the women." 
 
 With that the gallant colonel presented the fair stranger 
 to his wife and daughters, the latter of whom, a little 
 daunted at first by her appearance, as a being superior in 
 degree to the ordinary race of mortals, but quickly re- 
 assured by her frank and easy deportment, loaded her with 
 caresses, and carried her into the house, to improve the few 
 hours allowed to make her acquaintance, and to assist her 
 in changing her apparel, for which the means were fur- 
 nished from sundry bags and packages that the elder of 
 the two negro-men, the only immediate followers of her 
 kinsman, took from the back of a pack-horse. The 
 mother of the Bruces thought it advisable to follow them, 
 to see, perhaps, in person that they conducted themselves 
 towards their guest as a colonel's daughter should. 
 
 None of the females remained on the porch save Telle, 
 the girl of the loom, who, too humble or too timid to seek 
 the acquaintance of the stranger lady like the others, had 
 been overlooked in the bustle, and now pursued her labor 
 with but little notice from those who remained. 
 
 "And now, colonel," said the young officer, declining 
 the offer of refreshments made by his host, "allow me, like 
 a true soldier, to proceed to the business with which you 
 heard our commander, Major Johnson, charge me. To- 
 morrow we resume our journey to the Falls. I should 
 gladly myself, for Miss Forrester's sake, consent to remain 
 with you a few days, to recruit our strength a little. But 
 that cannot be. Our men are resolved to push on without 
 delay; and, as I have no authority to restrain them, I 
 must e'en accompany them." 
 
 "Well," said Colonel Bruce, "if it must be, it must, and 
 I'm not the brute to say no to you. But, lord, captain, I 
 should be glad to have you stay a month or two, war it only 
 to have a long talk about my old friend, the brave old 
 major. And thar's your sister, captain, — lord, sir, she 
 would be the pet of the family, and would help my wife 
 teach the girls manners. Lord !" he continued, laughing, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 21 
 
 "you've no idea what grand notions have got into the old 
 woman's head about the way of behaving ever since it war 
 that the Governor of Virginnie sent me a Gunnel's commis- 
 sion. She thinks I ought to w'ar a cocked hat and gold 
 swabs, and put on a blue coat instead of a leather shirt; 
 but I wonder how soon I'd see the end of it, out h'yar in 
 the bushes? And then, as for the girls, why thar's no 
 end of the lessons she gives them; — and thar's my Jenny 
 — ^thaf s the youngest — came blubbering up the other day, 
 saying, 'she believed mother intended even to stop their 
 licking at the sugar-troughs, she was getting so great and 
 so proud !' Howsomever, women will be women, and thar's 
 the end of it." 
 
 To this philosophic remark the officer of inferior degree 
 bowed acquiescence, ana recalling his host's attention to 
 the subject of most interest to himself, requested to be in- 
 formed what difficulties or dangers might be apprehended 
 on the further route to the Falls of Ohio. 
 
 "Why, none on 'arth that I know of," said Bruce ; "you've 
 as cl'ar and broad a trace before you as man and beast 
 could make — a buffalo-street* through the canes; and, 
 when thar's open woods, blazes as thick as stars, and horse- 
 traeks still thicker : thar war more than a thousand settlers 
 have travelled it this year already. As for dangers, cap- 
 tain, why I reckon thar's none to think on. Thar war a 
 good chance of whooping and howling about Bear's Grass 
 , last year, and some hard fighting; but I h'ar nothing of 
 Injuns thar this y'ar. But you leave some of your people 
 h'yar; what force do you tote down to the Palls to-mor- 
 row ?" 
 
 "Twenty-seven guns in all ; but several quite too young 
 to face an enemy." 
 
 "Thar's no trusting to y'ars in a matter of fighting!" 
 said the Kentuckian; "thar's my son Tom, that killed his 
 brute at fourteen; but, I remember, I told you that story. 
 Howsomever, I hold thar's no Injuns on the road; and if 
 
 • The bison-paths, when very broad were often thus called. 
 
23 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 you should meet any, why, it will be down about Bear's 
 Grass, or the Forks of Salt, whar you can keep your eyes 
 open, and whar the settlements are so thick, it is easy 
 taking cover. No, no, captain, the fighting this year is 
 all on the north side of Kentucky." 
 
 "Yet I believe," said Eoland, "there have been no 
 troubles there since the defeat of Captain Estill on Little 
 Mountain, and of Holder at that place — what do you call 
 it?" 
 
 "Upper Blue Licks of Licking," said Bruce ; "and warn't 
 they troubles enough for a season? Two Kentucky cap- 
 tains, and one of them a south-side man, too, whipped in 
 fa'r fight, and by nothing better than brutish Injuns !" 
 
 "They were sad affairs, indeed; and the numbers of 
 white men murdered made them still more shocking." 
 
 "The murdering," said the gallant Colonel Bruce, "is 
 nothing, sir; it is the shame of the thumping that makes 
 one feel ambitious; thar's the thing no Kentuckian can 
 stand, sir. To be murdered, whar thar's ten Injuns to 
 one white man is nothing; but whar it comes to being 
 trounced by equal numbers, why thar's the thing not to 
 be tolerated. Howsomever, captain, we're no worse off in 
 Kentucky than our neighbors. Thar's them five hundred 
 Pennsylvanians that went out ia June under old Cunnel 
 Crawford from Pittsburg, agin the brutes of Sandusky, 
 war more ridiculously whipped by old Captain Pipe, the 
 Delaware, there's no denying." 
 
 'What!" said Eoland, "was Crawford's company 
 beaten?" 
 
 "Beaten !" said the Kentuckian, opening his eyes ; "cut 
 off the b, and say the savages made a dinner of 'em, and 
 you'll be nearer the true history of the matter. It's but 
 two months ago, and so I suppose the news of the affa'r 
 hadn't got into East Virginnie when you started. Well, 
 captain, the long and short of it is, — the cunnel war beaten 
 and exterminated, and that on a hard run from the fight 
 he had hunted hard after. How many ever got back safe 
 again to Pittsburg I never could rightly h'ar; but what I 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 33 
 
 know iSj that thar war dozens of prisoners beaten to death 
 by the squaws and children, and that old Gunnel Craw- 
 ford himself war put to the double torture, and roasted 
 alive, and, I reckon, if he warn't eaten, it war only because 
 he war too old to be tender." 
 
 "Horrible!" said the young soldier, muttering half to 
 himself, though not in tones so low but that the Ken- 
 tuckian caught their import, "and I must expose my poor 
 Edith to fall into the power of such fiends and monsters." 
 
 "Ay, captain," said Bruce, "thar's the thing that sticks 
 most in the heart of them that live in the wilderness, and 
 have wives and daughters; — ^to think of their falling into 
 the hands of the brutes, who murder and scalp a woman 
 just as readily as a man. As to their torturing them, that's 
 not so certain, but the brutes are n't a bit too good for it ; 
 and I did h'ar of their burning one poor woman at San- 
 dusky.* But now, captain, if you are anxious to have the 
 young lady, your sister, in safety, h'yar's the place to stick 
 up your tent-poles, h'yar in this very settlement, whar the 
 Injuns never trouble us, never coming within ten miles of 
 us. Thar's as good land here as on Bear's Grass, and we 
 shall be glad of your company. It is not often we have a 
 rich man to take luck among us. Howsomever, I won't 
 deceive you if you will go to the Ohio ; I hold thar's no dan- 
 ger on the trace for either man or woman." 
 
 "My good friend," said Roland, "you seem to labor under 
 two errors in respect to me, which it is fitting I should 
 correct. In the first place, the lady whom you have sev- 
 eral times called, I know not why, my sister, claims no 
 such near relationship, being only my cousin." 
 
 "Why, sure !" said the colonel, "some one told me so, 
 and thar's a strong family likeness." 
 
 "There should be," said the youth, "since our fathers 
 
 * The worthy Kentuekian was, perhaps, mistaken. A female 
 captive from Pittsburg was, however, actually bound to the 
 stake near the Sandusky villages, and rescued with difiBculty 
 by British traders. But this happened in 1790, eight ye^rs 
 after the date of our story. 
 
24 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 were twin brothers, and resembled each other in all par- 
 ticulars in body, in mind, and, as I may say, in fortune. 
 They were alike in their lives, alike also in their deaths; 
 they fell together, struck down by the same cannon-ball at 
 the bombardment of Norfolk, seven years ago." 
 
 "May I never see a scalp," said the Kentuckian, warmly 
 grasping the young man's hands, "if I don't honor you the 
 more for boasting such a father and such uncles ! You 
 come of the true stock, captain, thar's no denying, and my 
 brave old major's estates have fallen into the right hands; 
 for, if thar's any believing the news the last band of emi- 
 grants brought of you here, thar war no braver officer in 
 Lee's corps, nor in the whole Virginnie line, than young 
 Captain Forrester." 
 
 "Here," said Eoland, looking as if what he said cost 
 him a painful effort, "lies the second error, — your con- 
 sidering me, as you manifestly do, the heir of your old 
 major, my uncle Eoland, which I am not." 
 
 "Lord !" said the worthy Bruce, "he war the richest man 
 in Prince George, and he had thousands of fat acres in the 
 valley, the best in all Fincastle, as I know very well, for I 
 war a Pincastleman myself ; thar war my old friend Brax- 
 ley — he war a lieutenant under the major at Braddock's, 
 and afterwards his steward and manager, and lav?yer-like, 
 who used to come over the Eidge to see after them. But 
 I see how it is — ^he left all to the young lady?" 
 
 "Not an acre," said Eoland. 
 
 "What !" said the Kentuckian, 'Tie left no children of his 
 own. Who then is the heir?" 
 
 "Your old friend, as you called him, Eichard Braxley. 
 And hence you see," continued the youth, as if desirous to 
 change the conversation, "that I come to Kentucky, an ad- 
 venturer and fortune-hunter, like other emigrants, to lo- 
 cate lands under proclamation warrants and bounty-grants, 
 to fell trees, raise corn, shoot bisons and Indians, and, in 
 general, to do anything else that can be required of a good 
 Virginian or good Kentuckian." 
 
 It was evidently the captain's wish now to leave alto- 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. 23 
 
 gether the subject on which he had thought it incumbent to 
 acquaint his host with so much ; but the worthy Bruce was 
 not so easily satisfied, and not conceiving there was any 
 peculiar impropriety in indulging curiosity in matters re- 
 lating to his old major, however distasteful that curiosity 
 might prove to his guest, he succeeded in drawing from the 
 reluctant young man many more particulars of his story, 
 which, as they have an important connection with the 
 events it is our object to narrate, we must be pardoned 
 for briefly noticing. 
 
 Major Eoland Forrester, the uncle and godfather of the 
 young soldier, and the representative of one of the most 
 ancient and affluent families on James Eiver (for by this 
 trivial name Virginians are content to designate the noble 
 Powhatan) , was the eldest of three brothers, of whom the 
 two younger, as was often the case under the ancient 
 regime in Virginia, were left, at the death of their parent, 
 to shift for themselves, while the eldest son inherited the 
 undivided princely estate of his ancestors. This was at 
 the period when that contest of principle with power, which 
 finally resulted in the separation of the American colonies 
 from the parent State, first began to agitate the minds 
 of the good planters of Virginia, in common with the 
 people of all the other colonies. Men had already begun 
 to take sides, in feeling, as in argument ; and, as usual, in- 
 terest had, no doubt, its full share in directing and con- 
 firming the predilections of individuals. 
 
 These circumstances, the regular succession of the eldest 
 born to the paternal estate, and the necessity imposed on 
 the others of carving out their own fortunes, had, perhaps, 
 their influence in determining the political bias of the 
 brothers, and preparing them for contention, when the 
 increase of party feeling, and the clash of interests be- 
 tween the government abroad and the colonies at home, 
 called upon all men to avow their principles and take 
 their stands. It was as natural that the one should retain 
 affection and reverence for the institutions which had made 
 him rich and distinguished, as that the younger brothers. 
 
26 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 who had suffered under them a deprivation of their natural 
 rights, should declare for a system of government and laws 
 more liberal and equitable in their character and opera- 
 tion. 
 
 At all events, and be the cause of difference what it 
 might, when the storm of the revolution burst over the 
 land, the brothers were found arrayed on opposite sides, 
 the two younger, the fathers of Eoland and Edith, in- 
 stantly taking up arms in the popular cause, while noth- 
 ing, perhaps, but helpless feebleness and bodily infirmities, 
 the results of wounds received in Braddock's war, through- 
 out which he had fought at the head of a battalion of 
 "Buckskins," or Virginia Bangers, prevented the elder 
 brother from arming as zealously in the cause of his king. 
 Fierce, uncompromising, and vindictive, however, in his 
 temper, he never forgave his brothers the bold and active 
 part they both took in the contest; and it was his resent- 
 ment, perhaps, more than natural affection for his neg- 
 lected offspring, that caused him to defeat his brothers' 
 hopes of succession to his estates (he being himself unmar- 
 ried), by executing a will in favor of an illegitimate 
 child, an infant daughter, whom he drew from conceal- 
 ment, and acknowledged as his offspring. This child, 
 however, was soon removed, having been burned to death 
 in the house of its foster-mother. But its decease effected 
 little or no change in his feelings towards his brothers, 
 who, pursuing the principles they had so early avowed, 
 were among the first to take arms among the patriots of 
 Virginia, and fell, as Eoland had said, at Norfolk, leaving 
 each an orphan child, Eoland then a youth of fifteen, and 
 Edith a child of ten, to the mercy of the elder brother. 
 
 Their death effected what perhaps their prayers never 
 would have done. The stern loyalist took the orphans to 
 his bosom, cherished and loved them, or at least appeared 
 to do so, and often avowed his intention to make them his 
 heirs. But it was Eoland's ill fate to provoke his ire, as 
 Eoland's father had done before him. The death of that 
 father, one of the earliest martyrs to liberty, h^d created 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS, 2^ 
 
 in Ms youthful mind a strong abhorrence of every thing 
 British and loyal; and after presuming a dozen times or 
 more to disclose and defend his hatred, he put the coping- 
 stone to his audacity by suddenly leaving his uncle's house 
 two years after he had been received into it, and galloping 
 away, a cornet in one of the companies of the first regi- 
 ment of horse which Virginia sent to the armies of Con- 
 
 He never more saw his uncle. He cared little for his 
 wrath, or its effects; if disinherited himself, it pleased his 
 imagination to think he had enriched his gentle cousin. 
 But his uncle carried his resentment further than he had 
 dreamed, or indeed any one else who had beheld the show 
 of affection he continued to the orphan Edith up to the 
 last moment of his existence. He died in October of the 
 preceding year, a week before the capitulation at York- 
 town, and almost within the sound of the guns that pro- 
 claimed the fall of the cause he had so loyally espoused. 
 From this place of victory Eoland departed to seek his 
 kinswoman. He found her in the house, — ^not of his 
 fathers, but of a stranger, — herself a destitute and home- 
 less orphan. No will appeared to pronounce her the mis- 
 tress of the wealth he had himself rejected; but, in place 
 of it, the original testament in favor of Major Forrester's 
 own child was produced by Braxley, his confidential friend 
 and attorney, who, by it was appointed both executor of the 
 estate and trustee to the individual in whose favor it was 
 constructed. 
 
 The production of such a testament so many years after 
 the death of the girl, caused no little astonishment; but 
 this was still further increased by what followed, the afore- 
 said Braxley instantly taking possession of the whole estate 
 in the name of the heiress, who, he made formal deposition, 
 was, to the best of his belief, yet alive, and would appear 
 to claim her inheritance. In support of this extraordinary 
 averment, he produced, or professed himself ready to pro- 
 duce, evidence to show that Forrester's child, instead of 
 b«ing bwped to death, a» W9« belieyed, Hi ftctuftUy Ijeea 
 
28 NICK or THE "WOODS. 
 
 trepanned and carried away by persons to him unknown, 
 the burning of the house of her foster-mother having been 
 devised and executed merely to give color to the story of 
 her death. Who were the perpetrators of such an outrage, 
 and for what purpose it had been devised, he affected to be 
 ignorant, though he threw out many hints and surmises of 
 a character more painful to Edith and Eoland than even 
 the loss of the property. These hints Eoland could not 
 persuade himself to repeat to the curious Kentuckian, since 
 they went, in fact, to charge his own father and Edith's 
 with the crime of having themselves concealed the child 
 for the purpose of removing the only bar to their expec- 
 tations of succession. 
 
 Whatever might be thought of this singular story, it 
 gained some believers, and was enough in the hands of 
 Braxley, a man of great address and resolution, and withal 
 a lawyer, to enable him to laugh to scorn the feeble efEorts 
 made by the impoverished Eoland to bring it to the test of 
 legal arbitrament. Despairing, in fact, of his cause, after 
 a few trials had convinced him of his impotence, and per- 
 haps himself almost believing the tale to be true, the young 
 man gave up the contest, and directed his thoughts to the 
 condition of his cousin Edith; who, upon the above cir- 
 cumstances being made known, had received a warm invita- 
 tion to the house and protection of her only female relative, 
 a married lady, whose husband had two years before emi- 
 grated to the Falls of Ohio, where he was now a person of 
 considerable importance. 
 
 This invitation determined the course to be pursued. 
 The young man instantly resigned his commission, and 
 converting the little property that remained into articles 
 necessary to the emigrant, turned his face to the boundless 
 West, and with his helpless kinswoman at his side, plunged 
 at once into the forest. A home for Edith in the house of 
 a relative was the first object of his desires; his second, as 
 he had already mentioned, was to lay the foundation for 
 the fortimes of both, by locating lands on proclamation- 
 ^vrarrants, as they were called (being grants of western 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 29 
 
 lands made to the colonists who had served the Crown in 
 the provincial French wars), which the two had inherited 
 from their fathers, besides the bounty-grants earned by 
 himself in virtue of military service rendered in the army 
 of his native State. 
 
 There was something in the condition of the young and 
 almost friendless adventurers to interest the feelings of 
 the hardy Kentuckian, but they were affected still more 
 strongly by the generous self-sacrifice, as it might be 
 called, which the young soldier was evidently making for 
 his kinswoman, for whom he had given up an honorable 
 profession, and his hopes of fame and distinction, to live 
 a life of inglorious toil in the desert. He gave the youth 
 another energetic grasp of hand, and said, with uncommon 
 emphasis : 
 
 "Hark'ee, captain, my lad, I love and honor ye; and I 
 could say no more if you war my own natteral born father ! 
 As to that ^ar' Kiehard Braxley, whom I call'd my old 
 friend, you must know, it war an old custom I have of 
 calling a man a friend who war only an acquaintance; for 
 I am for being friendly to all men that are white and 
 honest, and no Injuns. Now, I do hold that Braxley to 
 be a rascal, — a precocious rascal, sir ! and I rather reckon 
 thar war lying and villany at the bottom of that will, and 
 I hope you'll live to see the truth of it." 
 
 The sympathy felt by the Kentuckian in the story was 
 experienced in a still stronger degree by Telle Doe, the 
 girl of the loom, who, little noticed, if at all, by the two, 
 sat apparently occupied with her work, yet drinking in 
 every word uttered by the young soldier with a deep and 
 eager interest, until Eoland, by chance looking round, be- 
 held her large eyes fastened upon him with a wild, sorrow- 
 ful look, of which, however, she herself seemed quite un- 
 conscious, that greatly surprised him. The Kentuckian, 
 observing her at the same time, called to her, — "What, 
 Telle, my girl, are you working upon a holiday? You 
 should be dressed like the others, and making friends with 
 the stranger lady. And so git away with you now, and 
 
30 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 make yourself handsome, and don't stand thar looking as 
 if the gentleman would eat you." 
 
 Upon being thus accosted, the girl exhibited much of the 
 same terror and ilurry of spirits that she had shown on a 
 previous occasion; but obeying the order at last, she left 
 the porch and stole timorously into the house. 
 
 "A qu'ar crittur she, poor thing!" said Bruce, looking 
 after her commiseratingly, "and a stranger might think 
 her no more nor half-witted. But she has sense enough, 
 poor crittur ! and, I reckon, is just as smart if she war not 
 so humble and skittish as any of my own daughters." 
 
 "What," said Eoland, "is she not then your child ?" 
 
 "No, no," replied Bruce, shaking his head, "a poor 
 crittur of no manner of kin whatever. Her father war an 
 old friend or acquaintance-like; for, rat it, I won't own 
 friendship for any such apostatized villains, no how; but 
 the man whar taken by the Shawnees ; and so as thar war 
 none to befriend her, and she war but a little chit no 
 bigger nor my hand, I took to her myself and raised her. 
 But the worst of it is, and that's what makes her so wild 
 and skeary, her father, Abel Doe, turned Injun himself, 
 like Girty, Elliot, and the rest of them refugee scoundrels 
 you've h'ard of. Ifow that's enough, you see, to make the 
 poor thing sad and frightful; for Abel Doe is a rogue, 
 thar's no denying, and every body hates and cusses him, as 
 is but his due; and it's natteral, now she's growing old 
 enough to be ashamed of him, she should be ashamed of 
 herself too, — ^though thar's nothing but her father to 
 charge against her, poor creatur'- A bad thing for her to 
 have an Injunized father; for, if it warn't for him, I 
 reckon my son Tom, the brute, would take to her and marry 
 her." 
 
 "Poor creature, indeed !" muttered Eoland to himself, 
 contrasting in thought the condition of this helpless and 
 deserted girl with that of his own unfortunate kinswoman, 
 and sighing to acknowledge that it was still more forlorn 
 and pitiable. 
 
 Pi? 9JTOp#7. was, bowey^r, Ibwt aliofHiyed, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 31 
 
 terrupted on the instant by a loud uproar of voices from 
 the gate of the stockade, sounding half in mirth, half in 
 triumph ; while the junior Bruce was seen approaching the 
 porch, looking the very messenger of good news. 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks 
 on us with savages, and men of Inde? 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 Here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 "What's the matter, Tom Bruce?" said the father, eye- 
 ing him with surprise. 
 
 "Matter enough," responded the young giant, with a 
 grin of mingled awe and delight; "the Jibbenainosay is 
 up again!" 
 
 "Whar?" cried the senior eagerly; "not in our limits?" 
 
 "No, by Jehoshaphat !" replied Tom, "but nigh enough 
 to be neighborly — on the north bank of Kentuck, whar he 
 has left his mark right in the middle of the road, as fresh 
 as though it war but the work of the morning!" 
 
 "And a clear mark, Tom? — no mistake in it?" 
 
 "Right to an iota !" said the young man ; "a reggelar 
 cross on the breast, and a good tomahawk dig right through 
 the skull; and a long-legg'd fellow too, that looked as if 
 he might have f ou't old Sattan himself !" 
 
 "It's the Jibbenainosay, sure enough; and so good luck 
 to him!" cried the commander; "thar's a harricane com- 
 ing!" 
 
 "Who is the Jibbenainosay?" demanded Forrester. 
 
 "Who?" cried Tom Bruce; "why Nick — Nick of the 
 Woods." 
 
 "And who, if you please, is Nick of the Woods?" 
 
 "Thar," replied the junior with another grin, "thar, 
 etrannger, you're too hard for me. Some think one 
 
32 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 thing, and some another, but thar's many reckon he's the 
 devil." 
 
 "And his mark, that you were talking of in such mysteri- 
 ous terms — what is that?" 
 
 "Why, a dead Injun, to be sure, with Nick's mark on 
 him — a knife-cut, or a brace of 'em, over the ribs in the 
 shape of a cross. That's the way the Jibbenainosay marks 
 all the meat of his killing. It has been a whole year now 
 since we h'ard of him." 
 
 "Captain," said the elder Bruce, "you don't seem to 
 understand the affa'r altogether ; but if you war to ask Tom 
 about the Jibbenainosay till doomsday, he could tell you 
 no more than he has told already. You must know, thar's 
 a ereatur' of some sort or other that ranges the woods 
 round about our station h'yar, keeping a sort of guard 
 over us like, and killing all the brute Injuns that ar' on- 
 lucky enough to come in his way, besides scalping them 
 and marking them with his mark. The Injuns call him 
 Jibbenainosay, or a word of that natur', which them that 
 know more about the Injun gabble than I do, say means 
 the S-pirit-fhai-walTcs ; and if we can believe any such lying 
 devils as Injuns (which I am loath to do, for the truth 
 arn't in 'em), he is neither man nor beast, but a great 
 ghost or devil that knife cannot harm nor bullet touch; 
 and they have always had an idea that our fort h'yar in 
 partickelar, and the country round about, war under his 
 friendly protection — ^many thanks to him, whether he be 
 a devil or not ; for that war the reason the savages so soon 
 left off a-worrying of us." 
 
 "Is it possible !" said Koland, "that any one can believe 
 such an absurd story?" 
 
 "Why not," said Bruce, stoutly. "Thar's the Injuns 
 themselves, Shawnees, Hurons, Delawares and all — but 
 partickelarly the Shawnees, for he beats all creation a-kill- 
 ing of Shawnees — that believe in him, and hold him in 
 such eternal dread that thar's scarce a brute of 'em has 
 come within ten miles of the station h'yar this three y'ar; 
 because as how he haunts about our woods h'yar in par- 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 33 
 
 tickelar, and he kills "em wheresomever he catches 'em — 
 especially the Shawnees, as I said afore, against which the 
 ereatur' has a most butchering spite; and there's them 
 among the other tribes that call him the Shawneeivanna- 
 ween, or the Howl of the Shawnees, because of his keeping 
 them ever a howling. And thar's his marks, captain — 
 what do you make of that ? When you find an Injun lying 
 scalped and tomahawked, it stands to reason thar war 
 something to kill him ?" 
 
 "Ay, truly," said Forrester; 'T)ut I think you have hu- 
 man beings enough to give the credit to without referring 
 it to a supernatural one." 
 
 "Strannger," said Big Tom Bruce the younger, with a 
 sagacious nod, "when you kill an Injun yourself, I reckon 
 — ^meaning no offence — ^you will be willing to take all the 
 honor that can come of it without leaving it to be scrambled 
 after by others. Thar's no man 'arns a scalp in Kentucky 
 without taking great pains to show it to his neighbors." 
 
 "And besides, captain," said the father, very gravely, 
 "thar are men among us who have seen the ereatur' !" 
 
 "That," said Eoland, who perceived his new friends were 
 not well pleased with his incredulity, "is an argument I 
 can resist no longer." 
 
 "Thar war Ben Jones, and Samuel Sharp, and Peter 
 Smalleye, and a dozen more, who all had a glimpse of him 
 stalking through the woods at different times; and they 
 agree he looks more like a devil nor a mortal man — a great 
 tall fellow with horns and a hairy head like a buffalo-bull, 
 and a little devil that looks like a black b'ar, that walks be- 
 fore him to point out the way. He war always found in 
 the deepest forests, and that's the reason we call him Nick 
 of the Woods; wharby we mean Old Nick of the Woods, 
 for we hold him to be the devil, though a friendly one to 
 all but Injuns. Now, captain, I war never superstitious 
 in my life — ^but I go my death on Jibbenainosay ! I never 
 seed the ereatur' himself, but I have seen in my time two 
 different savages of his killing. It's a sure sign, if you 
 see him in the woods, that thar's Injuns at hand; and it's 
 
34 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 a good sign when you find his mark, without seeing him- 
 self, for then you may be sure the brutes are ofE — they can't 
 stand Old Nick of the Woods no how! At first, he war 
 never h'ard of afar from our station; but he has begun to 
 widen his range. Last year he left his marks down Salt 
 Eiver in Jefferson; and now, you see, he is striking game 
 north of the Kentucky; and I have h'ard of them that say 
 he kills Shawnees even in their own country, though con- 
 sarning that I'll not be so partickelar. No, no, captain, 
 thar's no mistake in Nick of the Woods, and if you are 
 so minded, we will go and h'ar the whole news of him. 
 But, I say, Tom," continued the Kentuckian, as the three 
 left the porch together, "who brought the news?" 
 
 "Captain Ealph — Eoaring Ealph Stackpole," replied 
 Tom Bruce, with a knowing and humorous look. 
 
 "What!" cried the father, in sudden alarm; "look to 
 the horses, Tom !" 
 
 "I will," said the youth, laughing; "it war no sooner 
 known that Captain Ealph were among us than it was re- 
 solved to have six regulators in the range all night ! Thar's 
 some of these new colts (not to speak of our own creatur's), 
 and especially that blooded brown beast of the captain's, 
 which the nigger calls Brown Briery, or some such name, 
 would set a better man than Eoaring Ealph Stackpole's 
 mouth watering." 
 
 "And who," said Eoland, "is Eoaring Ealph Stackpole? 
 and what has he to do with Brown Briareus?" 
 
 "A proper fellow as ever you see!" replied Tom, ap- 
 provingly; "killed two Injuns once single handed on Bear 
 Grass, an's stolen more horses from them than ar' another 
 man in Kentucky. A prime creatur' ! but he has his fault, 
 poor fellow, and sometimes mistakes a Christian's horse 
 for an Injun's, thar's the truth of it!" 
 
 "And such scoundrels you make officers of?" demanded 
 the soldier, indignantly. 
 
 "Oh," said the elder Bruce, "thar's no reggelar commis- 
 sion in the case. But whar thar's a knot of our poor folks 
 out of horses, and inclined to steal a lot from the Shawnees 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 35 
 
 (which is all fa'r plundering, you see, for thar's not a 
 horse among them, the brutes, that they did not steal from 
 Kentucky), they send for Roaring Ralph and make him 
 their captain, and a capital one he is, too, being all fight 
 from top to bottom ; as for the stealing part, thar's no one 
 can equal him. But, as Tom says, he sometimes does make 
 mistakes, having stolen horses so often from the Injuns he 
 can scarce keep his hand off a Christian's, and that makes 
 us wrathy." 
 
 By this time the speakers had reached the gate of the 
 fort, and passed among the cabins outside, where they 
 found a throng of the villagers surrounding the captain 
 of horse-thieves, and listening with great edification to, 
 and deriving no little amusement from his account of the 
 last achievement of the Jibbenainosay. Of this, as it re- 
 lated no more than the young Bruce had already repeated — 
 namely, that while riding that morning from the north 
 side he had stumbled upon the corse of an Indian, which 
 bore all the marks of having been a late victim to the wan- 
 dering demon of the woods — we shall say nothing ; but the 
 appearance and conduct of the narrator, one of the first, 
 and perhaps the parent, of the race of men who have made 
 Salt Eiver so renowned in story, were such as to demand a 
 less summary notice. 
 
 He was a stout, bandy-legged, broad-shouldered, and 
 bull-headed Jaitexdeaialioa, ; ugly, mean, and villainous of 
 look ; yet with an impudent, swaggering, joyous self-esteem 
 traced in every feature and expressed in every action of 
 body, that rather disposed the beholder to laugh than to 
 be displeased at his appearance. An old blanket-coat, or 
 wrap-rascal, once white, but now of the same muddy brown 
 hue that stained his visage, and once also of sufficient 
 length to defend his legs, though the skirts had long since 
 been transferred to the cuffs and elbows, where they ap- 
 peared in huge patches, covered the upper part of his 
 body, while the lower boasted a pair of buckskin breeches 
 and leather wrappers, somewhat its junior in age, but its 
 rival in mud and masculation. An old round fur hat, in- 
 
36 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 tended originally for a boy, and only made to fit his head 
 by being slit in sundry places at the bottom, thus leaving 
 a dozen yawning gaps, through which, as through the 
 chinks of a lattice, stole out as many stiff bunches of black 
 hair, gave to the capital excrescence an air as ridiculous as 
 it was truly uncouth, which was not a little increased by 
 the absence on one side of the brim, and by a loose frag- 
 ment of it hanging down on the other. 
 
 To give something martial to an appearance in other re- 
 spects so outlandish and ludicrous, he had his rifle, and 
 other usual equipments of a woodman, including the knife 
 and tomahawk, the first of which he carried in his hand, 
 swinging it about at every moment, with a vigor and ap- 
 parent carelessness well fit to discompose a nervous person, 
 had any such happened among his auditors. 
 
 As if there was not enough in his figure, visage, and 
 attire to move the mirth of beholders, he added to his other 
 attractions a variety of gestures and antics, of the most 
 extravagant kinds, dancing, leaping, and dodging about, 
 clapping his hands and cracking his heels together, with 
 the activity, restlessness, and we may add, the grace of a 
 jumping-jack. 
 
 Such was the worthy, or unworthy, son of Salt Eiver, a 
 man wholly unknown to history, though not to local and 
 traditionary fame, and much less to the then inhabitants of 
 Brace's station, to whom he related the news of the Jibbe- 
 nainosay with that emphasis and importance of tone and 
 manner which are most significantly expressed in the 
 phrase of "laying down the law." 
 
 As soon as he saw the commander of the station ap- 
 proaching, he cleared the throng around him by a skip 
 and a hop, seized the colonel by the hand, and doing the 
 same with the soldier, before Eoland could repel him, as 
 he would have done, exclaimed, "Glad to see you, cunnel ; — 
 same to you, strannger — what's the news from Virginnie? 
 Strannger, my name's Ealph Stackpole, and I'm a ring- 
 tailed squealer!" 
 
 "Then, Mr. Ealph Stackpole, the ring-tailed squealer/' 
 
NICK OF THE -WOODS. 3? 
 
 said Eoland, disengaging his hand, "be so good as to pur- 
 sue your business without regarding or taking any notice 
 of me." 
 
 "'Tarnal death to me!" cried the captain of horse- 
 thieves, indignant at the rebuff, "I'm a gentleman and my 
 name's Fight! Foot and hand, tooth and nail, claw and 
 mud-scraper, knife, gun, and tomahawk, or any other way 
 you choose to take me, I'm your man!" Cock-a-doodle- 
 doo !" ^ 
 
 And with that the gentleman jumped into the air, and 
 flapped his wings, as much to the amusement of the pro- 
 voker of his wrath as of any other person present. 
 
 "Come, Ealph," said the commander of the station, 
 "whar'd you steal that brown mar' thar?" — a question 
 whose abruptness somewhat quelled the ferment of the 
 man's fury, while it drew a roar of laughter from the 
 lookers-on. 
 
 "Thar it is !" said he, striking an attitude and clapping 
 a hand on his breast, like a man who felt his honor un- 
 justly assailed. "Steal ! I steal any horse but an Injun's ! 
 Whar's the man dar's insinivate that? Blood and massa- 
 cree-ation ! whar's the man ?" 
 
 "H'yar," said Bruce, very composedly. "I know that 
 old mar' belongs to Peter Harper, on the north side." 
 
 "You're right, by Hooky!" cried Eoaring Ealph; at 
 which seeming admission of his knavery the merriment of 
 the spectators was greatly increased ; nor was it much less- 
 ened when the fellow proceeded to aver that he had bor- 
 rowed it, and that with the express stipulation that it 
 should be left at Bruce's station, subject to the orders of its 
 owner. 
 
 "Thar, cunnel," said he, "thar's the beast ; take it ; and 
 just teU me whar's the one you mean to lend me — for I 
 must be ofE afore sunset." 
 
 "And whar are you going?" demanded Bruce. 
 
 "To St. Asaph's," — which was a station some twenty 
 or thirty miles off, — ^replied Captain Stackpole. 
 
 "Too far for the regulators to follow, Ealph," said 
 
38 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 Colonel Bruce; at which the young men present laughed 
 louder than ever, and eyed the visitor in a way that seemed 
 both to disconcert and offend him. 
 
 "Gunnel," said he, "you're a man in authority, and my 
 superior officer; wharf o' thar can be no scalping between 
 us. But my name's Tom Dowdle, the rag-man !" he 
 screamed, suddenly skipping into the thickest of the throng, 
 and sounding a note of defiance ; "my name's Tom Dowdle, 
 the rag-man, and I'm for any man that insults me ! log- 
 leg or leather-breeches, green-shirt or blanket-coat, land- 
 trotter or river-roller, — I'm the man for a massacree !" 
 
 Then giving himself a twirl upon his foot that would 
 have done credit to a dancing-master, he proceeded to other 
 antic demonstrations of hostility, which, when performed 
 in after years on the banks of the Lower Mississippi, by 
 himself and his worthy imitators, were, we suspect, the 
 cause of their receiving the name of the mighty alligator. 
 It is said, by naturalists, of this monstrous reptile, that 
 he delights, when the returning warmth of spring has 
 brought his fellows from their holes, and placed them bask- 
 ing along the banks of a swampy lagoon, to dart into the 
 centre of the expanse, and challenge the whole field to com- 
 bat. He roars, he blows the water from his nostrils, he 
 lashes it with his tail, he whirls round and round, churn- 
 ing the water into foam, until having worked himself into 
 a proper fury, he darts back again to the shore to seek an 
 antagonist. 
 
 Had the gallant captain of horse-thieves boasted the 
 blood as he afterwards did the name, of an "alligator half- 
 breed," he could have scarce conducted himself in a way 
 more worthy of his parentage. He leaped into the centre 
 of the throng, where, having found elbow-room for his 
 purpose, he performed the gyration mentioned before, fol- 
 lowing it up by other feats expressive of his hostile humor. 
 He flapped his wings and crowed until every chanticleer 
 in the settlement replied to the note of battle; he snorted 
 and neighed like a horse ; he bellowed like a bull ; he barked 
 like a dog; he yelled like an Indian; he whined like a 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 39 
 
 pantter; he howled like a wolf; until one would have 
 thought he was a living menagerie, comprising within his 
 single body the spirit of every animal noted for its love of 
 conflict. 
 
 Not content with such a display of readiness to fight the 
 field, he darted from the centre of the area allowed him for 
 his exercise, and invited the lookers-on individually to 
 battle. "Whar's your buffalo-bull," he cried, "to cross 
 horns with the roarer of Salt Eiver? Whar's your full 
 blood colt that can shake a saddle off? h'yar's an old nag 
 can kick off the top of a buck-eye ! Whar's your eat of the 
 Knobs ? your wolf of the Eolling Prairies ? h'yar's the old 
 brown b'ar can claw the bark off a gum-tree ! H'yar's a man 
 for you, Tom Bruce ! Same to you, Sim Eoberts ! to you, 
 Jimmy Big-nose ! to you, and to you, and to you ! Arn't I 
 a ring-tailed squealer ? Can go down Salt on my back, and 
 swim up the Ohio! Whar's the man to fight Eoaring 
 Ealph Stackpole?" 
 
 Now, whether it happened that there were none present 
 inclined for a contest with such a champion, or whether 
 it was that the young men looked upon the exhibition as a 
 mere bravado, meant rather to amuse than to irritate, it 
 so occurred that not one of them accepted the challenge; 
 though each, when personally called on, did his best to 
 add to the roarer's fury, if fury it really were, by letting 
 off sundry jests in relation to borrowed horses and regu- 
 lators.* 
 
 That the fellow's rage was in great part assumed, Eo- 
 land, who was, at first, somewhat amused at his extrava- 
 gance, became soon convinced; and growing at last weary 
 of it, he was about to signify to his host an inclination to 
 return into the fort, when the appearance of another in- 
 dividual on the ground suddenly gave promise of new 
 entertainment. 
 
 "Amateur Jacl?-Ketelje9, wft^ ^imimi^f l<yi}fj}-lftw, in ths 
 
40 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Here's a large mouth indeed. 
 That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks and seas; 
 Talks as familiarly of roaring lions 
 As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! 
 What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? 
 He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce; 
 He gives the bastinado with his tongue; 
 Our ears are cudgell'd. 
 
 — King John. 
 
 "If you're ralely ripe for a fight^ Roaring Ralph," cried 
 Tom Bruce the younger, who had shown, like the others, a 
 greater disposition to jest than to do battle with the cham- 
 pion, 'Tiere comes the very man for you. Look, boys, thar 
 comes Bloody Nathan !" At which formidable name there 
 was a loud shout set up, with an infinite deal of laughing 
 and clapping of hands. 
 
 "Whar's the feller," cried Captain Stackpole, springing 
 six feet into the air, and uttering a whoop of anticipated 
 triumph. "I've heerd of the brute, and 'tarnal death to 
 me, but I'm his super-superior ! Show me the crittur, and 
 let me fly ! Cock-a-doodle-doo !" 
 
 "Hurrah for Roaring Ralph Stackpole!" cried the 
 young men, some of whom proceeded to pat him on the 
 back in compliment to his courage, while others ran for- 
 ward to hasten the approach of the expected antagonist. 
 
 The appearance of the comer, at a distance, promised 
 an equal match to the captain of horse-thieves; but Ro- 
 land perceived from the increase of merriment among the 
 Kentuckians, and especially from his host joining heartily 
 in it, that there was more in Bloody Nathan than met the 
 eye. And yet there was enough in his appearance to at- 
 tract attention, and to convince the soldier that if Ken- 
 tucky had shown him, in Captain Stackpole, one extraor- 
 dinary specimen of her inhabitants, she had others to ex- 
 hibit not a whit less remarkable. It is on the frontiers, in- 
 deed, where adventurers from every corner of the world, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 41 
 
 and from every circle of society, are thrown together, that 
 we behold the strongest contrasts, and the strangest 
 varieties of human character. 
 
 Casting his eyes down the road or street (for it was 
 flanked by the outer cabins of the settlement, and perhaps 
 deserved the latter name), which led, among stumps and 
 gullies, from the gate of the stockade to the bottom of the 
 hill, Forrester beheld a tall man approaching, leading an 
 old lame white horse, at the heels of which followed a little 
 silky-haired black or brown dog, dragging its tail betwixt 
 its legs, in compliment to the curs of the station, which 
 seemed as hospitably inclined to spread a field of battle for 
 the submissive brute, as their owners were to make ready 
 another for its master. 
 
 The first thing that surprised the soldier in the appear- 
 ance of the person bearing so formidable a name, was an 
 incongruity, which struck others as well as himself, even 
 the colonel of militia exclaiming, as he pointed it out with 
 his finger, "It's old Nathan Slaughter, to the back-bone! 
 Thar he comes, the brute, leading a horse in his hand, and 
 carrying his pack on his own back ! But he's a marciful 
 man, old Nathan, and the horse thar, old White Dobbin, 
 war foundered and good for nothing ever since the boys 
 made a race with him against Sammy Parker's jackass." 
 
 As he approached yet nearer, Eoland perceived that his 
 tall gaunt figure was arrayed in garments of leather from 
 top to toe, even his cap or hat (for such it seemed, having 
 several broad flaps suspended by strings, so as to serve the 
 purpose of a brim), being composed of fragments of tanned 
 skins rudely sewed together. His upper garment differed 
 from a hunting-shirt only in wanting the fringes usually 
 appended to it, and in being fashioned without any regard 
 to the body it encompassed, so that, in looseness and shape- 
 lessness, it looked more like a sack than a human vestment ; 
 and, like his breeches and leggings, it bore the marks of the 
 most reverend antiquity, being covered with patches and 
 stains of all ages, sizes, and colors. 
 
 Thus far Bloody Nathan's appearance was not incon- 
 
43 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 aistent with his name, being uncommonly wild and savage ; 
 and to assist in maintaining his claims to the title, he had a 
 long rifle on his shoulder, and a knife in his belt, both of 
 which were in a state of dilapidation worthy of his other 
 equipments ; the knife, from long use and age, being worn 
 so thin that it seemed scarce worth the carrying — while the 
 rifle boasted a stock so rude, shapeless, and, as one would 
 have judged from its magnitude and weight, so unservice- 
 able, that it was easy to believe it had been constructed by 
 the unskilful hands of Nathan himself. 
 
 Such, then, was the appearance of the man who seemed 
 so properly to be called the Bloody; but when Eoland 
 came to survey him a little more closely, he could not 
 avoid suspecting that the soubriquet, instead of being 
 given to indicate warlike and dangerous traits of char- 
 acter, had been bestowed out of pure wantonness and deri- 
 sion. His visage, seeming to belong to a man of at least 
 forty-five or fifty years of age, was hollow, and almost as 
 weather-worn as his apparel, with a long hooked nose, 
 prominent chin, a wide mouth, exceedingly straight and 
 pinched, with a melancholy or contemplative twist at the 
 corners, and a pair of black, staring eyes, that beamed a 
 good-natured, humble, and perhaps submissive, simplicity 
 of disposition. His gait, too, as he stumbled along up the 
 hill, with a shufiiing, awkward, hesitating step, was more 
 like that of a man who apprehended injury and insult, than 
 of one who possessed the spirit to resist them. The fact, 
 moreover, of his sustaining on his own shoulders a heavy 
 pack of deer and other skins, to relieve the miserable horse 
 which he led, betokened a merciful temper, scarcely com- 
 patible with the qualities of a man of war and contention. 
 Another test and criterion by which Eoland judged his 
 claims to the character of a roarer, he found in the little 
 black dog; for the Virginian was a devout believer, as we 
 are ourselves, in the maxim of practical philosophers — 
 namely, that by the dog you shall know the master, the 
 one being fierce, magnanimous, and cowardly, just as his 
 TOBStor J8 a, bwUy, ^ gentlertisii, or a dastard. The littlg 
 
NICK OP THE "WOODS. 43 
 
 dog of Bloody Nathan was evidently a coward, creeping 
 along at White Dobbin's heels, and seeming to supplicate 
 with his tail, which now draggled in the mud, and now 
 attempted a timid wag, that his fellow curs of the sta- 
 tion should not be rude and inhospitable to a peaceable 
 stranger. 
 
 On the whole, the appearance of the man was any thing 
 in the world but that of the bulky and ferocious ruffian 
 whom the nickname had led Eoland to anticipate ; and he 
 scarcely knew whether to pity him, or to join in the laugh 
 with which the young men of the settlement greeted his 
 approach. Perhaps his sense of the ridiculous would have 
 disposed the young soldier to merriment; but the wistful 
 look, with which, while advancing, Nathan seemed to dep- 
 recate the insults he evidently expected, spoke volumes of 
 reproach to his spirit, and the half-formed smile faded 
 from his countenance. 
 
 "Thar!" exclaimed Tom Bruce, slapping Stackpole on 
 the shoulder, with great glee, "thar's the man that calls 
 himself Danger! At him, for the honor of Salt River; 
 but take care of his forelegs, for I tell you, he's the Penn- 
 sylvany war-horse !" 
 
 "And arn't I the ramping tiger of the Rolling Pork?" 
 cried Captain Ralph; "and can't I eat him, hoss, dog, 
 dirty jacket, and all? Hold me by the tail, while I devour 
 him !" 
 
 With that he executed two or three escapades, demivoltes, 
 curvets, and other antics of a truly equine character, and, 
 galloping up to the amazed Nathan, saluted him with a 
 neigh so shrill and hostile that even White Dobbin pricked 
 up his ears, and betrayed other symptoms of alarm. 
 
 "Surely, colonel," said Roland, "you will not allow that 
 mad ruffian to assail the poor man?" 
 
 "Oh," said Bruce, "Ralph won't hurt him; he's never 
 ambitious except among Injuns and horses. He's only 
 for skearing the old feller." 
 
 "And who !" said Forrester, "may the old fellow be ? 
 and why do you call him Bloody Nathan ?" The comman- 
 
44 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 der replied, "Because he's the only man in all Kentucky that 
 won't fights and thar's the way he beats us all hollow. 
 Lord, captain, you'd hardly believe it, but he's nothing 
 more than a poor Pennsylvany Quaker; and what brought 
 him out to Kentucky, whar thar's nar another ereatur' of 
 his tribe, thar's no knowing. Some say he war dishonest, 
 and so had to cut loose from Pennsylvany; but I never 
 heard of his stealing any thing in Kentucky; I reckon 
 thar's too much of the chicken about him for that. Some 
 say he is hunting rich lands, which war like enough for 
 any body that war not so poor and lazy. And some say his 
 wits are unsettled, and I hold that that's the truth of the 
 ereatur'; for he does nothing but go wandering up and 
 down the country, now h'yar and now thar, hunting for 
 meat and skins, and that's pretty much the way he makes 
 a living; and once I see'd the ereatur' have a fit — a right- 
 up-and-down touch of the falling sickness, with his mouth 
 all of a foam. Thar's them that's good-natur'd, that calls 
 him Wandering Nathan, because of his being h'yar, and 
 thar, and every whar. He don't seem much afear'd of the 
 Injuns; but, they say, the red brutes never disturbs the 
 Pennsylvany Quakers. Howsomever, he makes himself 
 useful; for sometimes he finds Injun sign whar thar's no 
 Injuns thought of, and so he gives information; but he 
 always does it, as he says, to save bloodshed, not to bring on 
 a fight. He comes to me once, thar's more than three 
 years ago, and instead of saying 'Gunnel, thar's twenty 
 Injuns lying on the road at the lower fort of Salt, whar 
 you may nab them, he says, says he, 'Friend Thomas, thee 
 must kept the people from going nigh the ford, for thar's 
 Injuns thar that will hurt them;' and then he takes him- 
 self off, whilst I rides down thar with twenty-five men, and 
 exterminates them, killing six, and driving the others the 
 Lord knows whar. He has had but a hard time of it 
 among us, poor ereatur', for it used to make us wrathy to 
 find thar war so little fight in him that he wouldn't so 
 much as kill a murdering Injun. I took his gun from him 
 once; for why he wouldn't attend muster when I had en- 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 45 
 
 rolled him. But I pitied the brute, for he war poor, and 
 thar war but little corn in his cabin, and nothing to shoot 
 meat with ; and so I gave it back, and told him to take his 
 own ways for an old fool." 
 
 While Colonel Bruce was thus delineating the character 
 of Nathan Slaughter, the latter found himself surrounded 
 by the young men of the station, the butt of a thousand 
 jests, and the victim of the insolence of the captain of 
 horse-thieves. It is not to be supposed that Eoaring Ealph 
 was really the bully and madman that his extravagant 
 freaks and expressions seemed to proclaim him. These, 
 like any other "actions that a man might play," were as- 
 sumed, partly because it suited his humor to be fantastic, 
 and partly because the putting of his antic disposition on, 
 was the only means which he, like many of his betters, 
 possessed of attracting attention, and avoiding the neglect 
 and contempt to which his low habits and appearance would 
 have otherwise justly consigned him. There was, there- 
 fore, little really hostile in the feeling with which he ap- 
 proached the non-combatant; though it was more than 
 probable, the disgust he, in common with the other war- 
 like personages, entertained towards the peaceable Nathan 
 might have rendered him a little more malicious than 
 usual. 
 
 "Bloody Nathan !" said he, as soon as he had concluded 
 his neighing and curvetting, "if you ever said your 
 prayers, now's the time. Down with your pack, — for I 
 can't stand deer's ha'r sticking in my swallow, no how !" 
 
 "Friend," said Bloody Nathan, meekly, "I beg thee 
 will not disturb me. I am a man of peace and quiet." 
 
 And so saying, he endeavored to pass onwards ; but was 
 prevented by Ealph, who, seizing his heavy bundle with one 
 hand, applied his right foot to it with a dexterity that not 
 only removed it from the poor man's back, but sent the 
 dried skins scattering over the road. This feat was re- 
 warded by the spectators with loud shouts, all which, as 
 well as the insult itself, Nathan bore with exemplary pa- 
 tience. 
 
46 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 "Friend," he said, "what does thee seek of me, that thee 
 treats me thus?" 
 
 "A fight," replied Captain Stackpole, uttering a war- 
 whoop ; "a fight, strannger, for the love, of heaven !" 
 
 "Thee seeks it of the wrong person," said Nathan, "and 
 I beg thee will get thee away." 
 
 "What!" said Stackpole, "arn't thee the Pennsylvany 
 war-horse, the screamer of the meeting house, the bloody- 
 oiouthed b'ar of Yea-Nay, and Verily?" 
 
 "I am a man of peace," said the submissive Slaughter. 
 
 "Yea verily, verily and yea!" cried Ealph, snufiiing 
 through the nostrils, but assuming an air of extreme in- 
 dignation ; ''Strannger, I've heerd of you ! You're the 
 man that holds it again duty and conscience to kill Injuns, 
 the red-skinned screamers. — that refuses to defend the wo- 
 men, the splendiferous critturs! and the little children, 
 the squall-a-baby d'ars! And wharfo'? Because, as how 
 you're a man of peace and no fight, you superiferous, long- 
 legged, no-souled crittur ! But I'm the gentleman to make 
 a man of you. So down with your gun, and 'tarnal death 
 to me, I'll whip the cowardly devil out of you." 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, his humility yielding to a feel- 
 ing of contempt, "thee is theeself a cowardly person, or 
 thee wouldn't seek a quarrel with one, thee knows, can't 
 fight thee. Thee would not be so ready with thee match." 
 
 With that he stooped to gather up his skins, a proceed- 
 ing that Stackpole, against whom the laugh was turned by 
 this sally of Nathan's, resisted by catching him by the nape 
 of the neck, twirling him round, and making as if he really 
 would have beaten him. 
 
 Even this the peaceful Nathan bore without anger or 
 murmuring ; but his patience fled when Stackpole, turning 
 to the little dog, which by bristling its back and growling, 
 expressed a half inclination to take up its master's quarrel, 
 applied his foot to its ribs with a violence that sent it roll- 
 ing some five or six yards down the hill, where it lay for 
 a time yelping and whining with pain. 
 
 "Friend !" said Nathan, sternly, "thee is but a dog thee- 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 47 
 
 self to harm the creature! What will thee have with 
 me?" 
 
 "A fight! a fight, I tell thee!" replied Captain Ealph, 
 "till I teach thy leatherified conscience the new doctrines 
 of Kentucky." 
 
 "Fight thee, I cannot and dare not," said Nathan; and 
 then added, much to the surprise of Forrester, who, shar- 
 ing his indignation at the brutality of his tormentor, had 
 approached to drive the fellow ofE — "but if thee must have 
 thee deserts, thee shall have them. Thee prides theeself 
 upon thee courage and strength — will thee adventure with 
 me a friendly fall?" 
 
 "Hurrah for Bloody Nathan!" cried the young men, 
 vastly delighted at his unwonted spirit, while Captain 
 Ealph himself expressed his pleasure by leaping into the 
 air, crowing, and dashing off his hat, which he kicked down 
 the hill with as much good will as he had previously be- 
 stowed upon the little dog. 
 
 "Off with your leather night-cap, and down with your 
 rifle," he cried, giving his own weapon into the hands of a 
 looker-on, "and scrape some of the grease off your jacket; 
 for, 'tarnal death to me, I shall give you the Virginny 
 lock, fling you head-fo'most, and you'll flnd yourself in a 
 twinkling, sticking fast right in the centre of the 'arth !" 
 
 "Thee may find theeself mistaken," said Nathan, giving 
 up his gun to one of the young men, but instead of reject- 
 ing his hat, pulling it down tight over his brows. "There 
 is locks taught among the mountains of Bedford that may 
 be as good as them learned on the hills of Virginia. I am 
 ready for thee." 
 
 "Coek-a-doodle-doo !" cried Ealph Stackpole, springing 
 towards his man, and clapping his hands, one on Nathan's 
 left shoulder, and the other on his right hip: "Are you 
 ready ?" 
 
 "I am," replied Nathan. 
 
 "Down, then, you go, war you a buffalo!" And with 
 that the captain of horse-thieves put forth his strength, 
 which was very great^ in an effort that appeared to Eoland 
 
48 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 quite irresistible; though, as it happened, it scarce moved 
 Nathan from his position. 
 
 "Thee is mistaken, friend!" he cried, exerting his 
 strength in return, and with an effect that no one had an- 
 ticipated. By magic, as it seemed, the heels of the cap- 
 tain of horse-thieves were suddenly seen flying in the air, 
 his head aiming at the earth, upon which it as suddenly 
 descended with the violence of a bomb-shell; and there it 
 would doubtless have burrowed, like the aforesaid imple- 
 ment of destruction, had the soil been soft enough for the 
 purpose, or exploded into a thousand fragments had 
 not the shell been double the thickness of an ordinary 
 skull. 
 
 "Huzza! Bloody Nathan for ever!" shouted the de- 
 lighted villagers. 
 
 "He has killed i}ie man," said Forrester; "but bear 
 witness, all, the fellow provoked his fate." 
 
 "Thanks to you, strannger ! but not so dead as you 
 reckon," said Ealph, rising to his feet, and scratching his 
 poll, with a stare of comical confusion. "I say, strannger, 
 here's my shoulder, — but whar's my head ? Do you reckon 
 I had the worst of it ?" 
 
 "Huzza for Bloody Nathan Slaughter ! He has whipped 
 the ramping tiger of Salt Eiver," cried the young men of 
 the station. 
 
 "Well, I reckon he has," said the magnanimous Captain 
 Ealph, picking up his hat ; then walking up to Nathan, who 
 had taken his dog into his arms, to examine into the little 
 animal's hurts, he cried, with much good-humored energy, 
 — "Thar's my fo-paw in token I've had enough of you, 
 and want no mo'. But I say, Nathan Slaughter," he 
 added, as he grasped the victor's hand, "it's no thing you 
 can boast of, to be the strongest man in Kentucky, and the 
 most sevagarous at a tussel, — ^h'yar among murdering In- 
 juns and scalping-runnegades, and keep your fists off their 
 top-knots. Thar's my idear ; for I go for the doctrine that 
 every able-bodied man should sarve his country and his 
 neighbors, and fight their foes ; and them that does is men 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. ^9 
 
 and gentlemen, and them that don't is cowards and rascals, 
 thaf s my idear. And so, fawwell." 
 
 Then, executing another demivolte or two, but with 
 much less spirit than he had previously displayed, he re- 
 turned to Colonel Bruce, saying, "Whar's that horse you 
 promised me, cunnel ? I'm a licked man, and I can't stay 
 here no longer, no way no how. Lend me a hoss, cimnel, 
 and trust to my honor." 
 
 "You shall have a beast," said Bruce coolly; 'Taut as to 
 trusting your honor, I shall do no such thing, having some- 
 thing much better to rely on. Tom will show you a 
 horse; and, remember, you are to leave him at Logan's. 
 If you carry him a step further, captain, you'll never carry 
 another. Judge Lynch is looking at you; and so bewar'." 
 
 Having uttered this hint, he left the captain of horse- 
 thieves to digest it as he might, and stepped up to Nathan, 
 who had seated himself on a stump, where, with his skins 
 at his side, his little dog and his rifle betwixt his legs, he 
 sat enduring a thousand sarcastic encomiums on his 
 strength and spirit, with as many sharp denunciations of 
 the peaceful principles that robbed the community of the 
 services he had shown himself so well able to render. 
 
 The doctrine, so eloquently avowed by Captain Ralph, 
 that it was incumbent upon every able-bodied man to fight 
 the enemies of their little state, the murderers of their 
 wives and children, was a canon of belief imprinted on 
 the heart of every man in the district; and Nathan's fail- 
 ure to do so, however caused by his conscientious aversion 
 to bloodshed, no more excused him from contempt and 
 persecution in the wilderness, than it did others of his 
 persuasion in the Eastern republics, during the war of the 
 revolution. His appearance, accordingly, at any station, 
 was usually the signal for reproach and abuse; the fear 
 of which had driven him almost from the society of his 
 fellow-men, so that he was seldom seen among them, ex- 
 cept when impelled by necessity, or when his wanderings 
 in the woods had acquainted him with the proximity of the 
 foes of his persecutors. His victory over the captain of 
 
50 NICE OF THE WOODS. 
 
 horse-thieves exposed him on this occasion to ruder and 
 more angry remonstrances than usual ; which having sought 
 in vain to avert, he sat down in despair, enduring all in 
 silence, staring from one to another of his tormentors with 
 lack-lustre eyes, and playing with the silken hair of his 
 dog. The approach of the captain of the station procured 
 him an interval of peace, which he, however, employed only 
 to communicate his troubles to the little cur, that, in his 
 perplexity, he addressed pretty much as he would have 
 addressed a human friend and adviser : "Well, Peter," said 
 he abstractedly, and with a heavy sigh, "what does thee 
 think of matters and things?" To which question, the 
 ridiculousness of which somewhat mollified the anger of 
 the young men, Peter replied by rubbing his nose against 
 his master's hand, and by walking a step or two down the 
 hill, as if advising an instant retreat from the inhospitable 
 station. 
 
 "Ay, Peter," muttered !N"athan, "the sooner we go the 
 better, for there are none that make us welcome. But 
 nevertheless, Peter, we must have our lead and our powder, 
 and we must tell these poor people the news." 
 
 ''And pray, ISTathan," said Colonel Bruce, rousing him 
 from his meditations, "what may your news for the poor 
 people be ? I reckon it will be much wiser to tell it to me 
 than that 'ar brute dog. You have seen the Jibbenainosay, 
 perhaps, or his mark thar-away on the Kentucky?" 
 
 "Nay," said Nathan. "But there is news from the In- 
 jun towns of a great gathering of Injuns with their men 
 of war in the Miami villages, who design, the evil crea- 
 tures, marching into the district of Kentucky with a 
 greater army than was ever seen in the land before." 
 
 "Let them come, the brutes," said the Kentuckian, with 
 a laugh of scorn; "it will save us the trouble of hunting 
 them up in their own towns." 
 
 "Nay," said Nathan, "but perhaps they Tiave come; for 
 the prisoner who escaped, and who is bearing the news to 
 friend Clark, the general at the Palls, says they were to 
 march two days after he fled from them." 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 51 
 
 "And whar did you learn this precious news?" 
 
 "At the lower ford of Kentucky, and from the man him- 
 self," said Nathan. "He had warned the settlers at Lex- 
 ington " 
 
 "That's piper's news," interrupted one of the young 
 men. "Captain Ealph told us all ahout that; hut he said 
 thar war nobody at Lexington believed the story." 
 
 "Then," said Nathan, meekly, "it may be that the man 
 was mistaken. Yet persons should have a care, for there 
 is Injun sign all along the Kentucky. But that is my 
 story. And now, friend Thomas, if thee will give me lead 
 and powder for my skins, I wiU be gone, and trouble thee 
 no longer." 
 
 "It's a sin and a shame to waste them on a man who 
 only employs them to kill deer, b'ar, and turkey," said 
 Bruce ; "yet a man mustn't starve, even whar he's a Quaker. 
 So go you along with my son Dick thar, to the store, and 
 he'll give you the value of your plunder. A poor, miser- 
 able brute, thar's no denying," he continued contempt- 
 uously, as Nathan, obeying the direction, followed Bruce's 
 second son into the fortress. "The man has some spirit 
 now and then ; but whar's the use of it, while he's nothing 
 but a no-fight Quaker? I tried to reason him out of his 
 notions; but thar war no use in trying, no how I could 
 work it. I have an idea about these Quakers " 
 
 But here luckily the worthy colonel's idea was suddenly 
 put to flight by the appearance of Telle Doe, who came 
 stealing through the throng to summon him to his even- 
 ing meal — a call which neither he nor his guest was indis- 
 posed to obey ; and taking Telle by the hand in a paternal 
 manner, he ushered the young soldier back into the fort. 
 
 The girl, Eoland observed, had changed her attire at the 
 bidding of her protector, and now, though dressed with 
 the greatest simplicity, appeared to more advantage than 
 before. He thought her, indeed, quite handsome; and 
 pitying her more than orphan condition, he endeavored 
 to show her such kindness as was in his power, by address- 
 ing to her some complimentary remarks as he walked along 
 
52 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 at her side. His words^ however, only revived the terror 
 she seemed really to experience whenever any one ac- 
 costed her; seeing which he desisted, doubting if she de- 
 served the compliment the benevolent Bruce had so recently 
 paid to her good sense. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 Then let me go, and hinder not my course; 
 I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, 
 And make a pastime of each weary step. 
 
 — Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 The evening meal being concluded, and a few brief mo- 
 ments devoted to conversation with her new friends, Edith 
 was glad when, at a hint from her kinsman as to the early 
 hour appointed for setting out on the morrow, she was per- 
 mitted to seek the rest of which she stood in need. Her 
 chamber — and, by a rare exercise of hospitality, the merit 
 of which she appreciated, since she was sensible it could 
 not have been made without sacrifice, she occupied it alone 
 — boasted few of the luxuries, few even of the comforts, to 
 which she had been accustomed in her native land and her 
 father's house. But misfortune had taught her spirit 
 humility; and the recollection of nights passed in the 
 desert with only a thin mattress betwixt her and the naked 
 earth, and a little tent cloth and the boughs of trees to 
 protect her from the inclement skies, caused her to regard 
 her present retreat with such feelings of satisfaction as she 
 might have indulged if in the chamber of a palace. 
 
 She was followed to the apartment by a bevy of the fair 
 Bruces, all solicitous to render her such assistance as they 
 could, and all, perhaps, equally anxious to indulge their 
 admiration, for the second or third time, over the slender 
 store of finery which Edith good-naturedly opened to their 
 inspection. In this way the time fled amain until Mrs. 
 Bruce, more considerate than her daughters, and some- 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 53 
 
 ■what scandalized by the loud commendations which they 
 passed on sundry articles of dress such as were never be- 
 fore seen in Kentucky, rushed into the chamber and drove 
 them manfully away. 
 
 "Poor, ignorant critturs !" said she, by way of apology, 
 "they knows no better; thar's the mischief of being raised 
 in the backwoods. They'll never Tarn to be genteel, thar's 
 so many common persons comes out here with their daugh- 
 ters. I'm sure I do my best to I'arn 'em." 
 
 With these words she tendered her own good oflBees to 
 Edith, which the young lady declining with many thanks, 
 she bade her good night, and, to Edith's great relief, left 
 her to herself. A few moments then sufBced to complete 
 her preparations for slumber, which being effected, she 
 threw herself on her knees to implore the further favor of 
 the orphan's Friend, who had conducted her so far in safety 
 on her journey. 
 
 Whilst thus engaged, her mind absorbed in the solemn 
 duty, she failed to note that another visitor had softly 
 stolen into the apartment; and accordingly, when she rose 
 from her devotions, and beheld a female figure standing 
 in the distance, though regarding her with both reverence 
 and timidity, she could not suppress an exclamation of 
 alarm. 
 
 "Do not be afraid, — it is only Telle Doe," said the visitor 
 with a low and trembling voice : "I thought you would want 
 some one to — to take the candle." 
 
 "You are very good," replied Edith, who having scarcely 
 before observed the humble and retiring maid, and sup- 
 posing her to be one of her host's children, had little doubt 
 she had stolen in to indulge her curiosity like the others, 
 although at so late a moment, as to authorize a little 
 cruelty on the part of the guset. "I am very tired and 
 sleepy," she said, creeping into bed, hoping that the con- 
 fession would be understood and accepted as an apology. 
 She then, seeing that Telle did not act upon the hint, in- 
 timated that she had no further occasion for the light, and 
 bade her good night. But Telle, instead of departing, 
 
54 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 maintained her stand at the little rude table, where, be- 
 sides the candle, were several articles of apparel that Edith 
 had laid out in readiness for the morning, and upon which 
 she thought the girl's eyes were fixed. 
 
 "If you had come a little earlier," said Edith, with un- 
 failing good-nature, "I should have been glad to show you 
 any thing I have. But now, indeed, it is too late, and all 
 my packages are made up " 
 
 "It is not thai," interrupted the maiden hastily, but 
 with trepidation. "No, I did not want to trouble vou. 
 But " 
 
 "But what?" demanded Edith, with surprise, yet with 
 kindness, for she observed the agitation of the speaker. 
 
 "Lady," said Telle, mustering resolution, and stepping 
 to the bedside, "if you will not be angry with me I would — 
 I would " 
 
 "You would ask a favor, perhaps?" said Edith, en- 
 couraging her with a smile. 
 
 "Yes, that is it," replied the girl, dropping on her knees, 
 not so much, however, as it appeared from abasement of 
 spirit, as to bring her lips nearer to Edith's ear, that she 
 might speak in a low voice. "I know, from what they say, 
 you are a great lady, and that you once had many people to 
 wait upon you ; and now you are in the wild woods among 
 strangers, and none about you but men." Edith replied 
 with a sigh, and Telle timorously grasping at the hand 
 lying nearest her own, murmured eagerly, "If you would 
 but take me with you, I am used to the woods and I would 
 be your servant." 
 
 "You f" exclaimed Edith, her surprise getting the better 
 of her sadness. "Your mother would surely never con- 
 sent to your being a servant ?" 
 
 "My mother?" muttered Telle — "I have no mother — 
 no relations." 
 
 "What ! Mr. Bruce is not then your father ?" 
 
 "No — I have no father. Yes — that is, I have a father; 
 but he has — ^he has turned Indian." 
 
 These words were whispered rather than spoken, yet 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 55 
 
 whispered with a tone of grief and shame that touched 
 Edith's feelings. Her pity was expressed in her coun- 
 tenance, and Telie, reading the gentle sympathy infused 
 into every lovely feature, bent over the hand she had 
 clasped, and touched it with her lips. 
 
 "I have told you the truth," she said, mournfully ; "one 
 like me should not be ashamed to be a servant. And so, 
 lady, if you will take me I will go with you and serve you ; 
 and, poor and ignorant as I am, I can serve you, — yes, 
 ma'am," she added eagerly, "I can serve you more and 
 better than you think, — indeed, indeed I can." 
 
 "Alas, poor child," said Edith, "I am one who must 
 learn to do without attendance and service. I have no 
 home to give you." 
 
 "I have heard it all," said Telie ; "but I can live in the 
 woods with you till you have a house ; and then I can work 
 for you, and you'll never repent taking me, — ^no, indeed, 
 for I know all thaf s to be done by a woman in a new land, 
 and you don't ; and indeed, if you have none to help you it 
 would kill you, it would indeed ; for it is a hard time in the 
 woods for a woman that has been brought up tenderly." 
 
 "Alas, child," said Edith, perhaps a little pettishly, for 
 she liked not to dwell upon such gloomy anticipations, 
 "why should you be discontented with the home you have 
 already? Surely, there are none here unkind to you?" 
 
 "No," replied the maiden, "they are very good to me, 
 and Mr. Bruce has been a father to me. But then I am 
 not his child, and it is wrong for me to live upon him, who 
 has so many children of his own. And then my father — ■ 
 all talk of my father ; all the people here hate him, though 
 he has never done them any harm, and I know, — ^yes, I 
 know it well enough, though they won't believe it,— that 
 he keeps the Indians from hurting them; but they hate 
 him and curse him ; and, oh ! I wish I was away, where I 
 should never hear them speak of him more. Perhaps they 
 don't know any thing about him at the Falls, and then 
 i^ere will be nobody to call me the white Indian's daugh- 
 ter." 
 
56 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "And does Mr. Bruce or his wife know of your desire to 
 leave him?" 
 
 "No," said Telie, her terrors reviving; "but if you 
 should ask them for me then they would agree to let me 
 go. He told the captain, — that's Captain Forrester, — he 
 would do any thing for him ; and indeed he would, for he 
 is a good man, and he will do what he says." 
 
 "How strange, how improper, nay, how ungrateful then, 
 if he be a good man," said Edith, "that you should wish to 
 leave him and his kind family, to live among persons en- 
 tirely unknown. Be content, my poor maid. You have 
 little save imaginary evils to afBict you. You are happier 
 here than you can be among strangers." 
 
 Telie clasped her hands in despair. "I shall never be 
 happy here, nor any where. But take me," she added 
 eagerly, "take me for your own sake; — for it will be good 
 for you to have me with you in the woods, it will, indeed it 
 will." 
 
 "It cannot be," said Edith gently. 
 
 But the maiden would scarce take a refusal. Her terrors 
 had been dissipated by her having ventured so far on 
 speech, and she now pursued her object with an imploring 
 and passionate earnestness that both surprised and em- 
 barrassed Edith, while it increased her sympathy for the 
 poor bereaved pleader. She endeavored to convince her, 
 if not of the utter folly of her desires, at least of the im- 
 possibility there was on her part of granting them. She 
 succeeded, however, in producing conviction only on one 
 point : Telie perceived that her suit was not to be granted ; 
 of which, as soon as she was satisfied, she left off entreaty 
 and rose to her feet with a saddened and humbled visage, 
 and then, taking up the candle, she left the fair stranger 
 to her repose. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Eoland also was preparing for slum- 
 ber; and finding, as indeed he could not avoid seeing, that 
 'the hospitality of his host had placed the males of the 
 family under the necessity of taking their rest in the open 
 air on the porch, he insisted upon passing the night in the 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 57 
 
 same place in their company. In fact, the original habi- 
 tation of the back-woodsmen seldom boasted more than two 
 rooms in all, and these none of the largest ; and when emi- 
 grants arrived at a station there was little attempt made 
 to find shelter for any save their women and children, to 
 whom the men of the settlement readily gave np their own 
 quarters, to share those of their male visitors under the 
 blanket-tents which were spread before the doors. This, 
 to men who had thus passed the nights for several weeks 
 in succession, was any thing but hardship; and when the 
 weather was warm and dry, they could congratulate them- ^ 
 selves on sleeping in greater comfort than their sheltered 
 companions. 
 
 Of this Forrester was well aware, and he took an early 
 period to communicate his resolution of rejecting the un- 
 manly luxury of a bed, and sleeping like a soldier, wrapped 
 in his cloak, with his saddle for a pillow. In this way the 
 night proving unexpectedly sultry, he succeeded in enjoy- 
 ing more delightful and refreshing slumbers than blessed 
 his kinswoman in her bed of down. The song of the 
 katydid and the cry of the whip-poor-will came more 
 sweetly to his ears from the adjacent woods ; and the breeze 
 that had stirred a thousand leagues of forest in its flight, 
 whispered over his cheek with a more enchanting music 
 than it made among the chinks and crannies of the wall 
 by Edith's bedside. A few idle dreams — recollections of 
 home, mingled with the anticipated scenes of the future, 
 the deep forest, the wild beast, and the lurking Indian, — 
 amused, without harassing his sleeping mind; and it was 
 not until the first gray of dawn that he experienced any 
 interruption. 
 
 He started up suddenly, his ears still tingled with the 
 soft tones of an unknown voice, which had whispered in 
 them, "Cross the river by the Lower Ford — there is danger 
 at the Upper." 
 
 He stared around, but saw nothing; all was silent around 
 him, save the deep breathing of the sleepers at his side. 
 
 "Who spoke?" he demanded in a whisper, but received 
 
58 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 no reply. "Eiver — Upper and Lower Ford; — danger? — " 
 he muttered: "now I would have sworn some one spoke 
 to me; and yet I must have dreamed it. Strange things, 
 dreams — thoughts in freedom loosed from the chains of 
 association— temporary mad fits undoubtedly; marvellous 
 impressions they produce on the organs of sense ; see, hear, 
 smell, taste, touch, more exquisitely without the organs 
 than with them. What's the use of organs? There's the 
 poser — I think, — I " but here he ceased thinking al- 
 together, his philosophy having served the purpose such 
 philosophy usually does, and wrapped him a second time 
 in the arms of Morpheus. He opened his eyes almost im- 
 mediately, as he thought; but his morning nap had lasted 
 half an hour; the dawn was already purple and violet in 
 the sky, his companions had left his side, and the hum of 
 voices and the sound of footsteps in and around the sta- 
 tion, told him that his fellow-exiles were already preparing 
 to resume their journey. 
 
 "A brave morrow to you, captain !" said the commander 
 of the fortress, the thunder of whose footsteps, as he ap- 
 proached the house with uncommonly fierce strides, had, 
 perhaps, broken his slumbers. A frown was on his brow, 
 and the grasp of his hand, in which every finger seemed 
 doing the duty of a boa-constrictor, spoke of a spirit up in 
 arms, and wrestling with passion. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Eoland. 
 
 "Matter that consarns you and me more than any other 
 two persons in the etarnal world !" said Bruce, with such 
 energy of utterance as nothing but rage could supply. 
 "Thar has been a black wolf in the pin-fold, — alias, as 
 they used to say at the court-house, Captain Kalph Stack- 
 pole ; and the end of it is, war I never to tell another truth 
 in my life, that your blooded brown horse has absquotu- 
 lated!" 
 
 "Absquatulated!" echoed Forrester, amazed as much at 
 the word as at the fierce visage of his friend, — "What is 
 that? Is the horse hurt?" 
 
 "Stolen away, sir, by the etarnal Old Scratch ! Carried 
 
NICK or THE "WOODS. 59 
 
 off by Eoaring Ealph Stackpole, while I, like a brute, war 
 sound a-sleeping! And h'yar's the knavery of the thing, 
 sir! the unpronounceable rascality, sir! — I loaned the 
 brute one of my own critturs, just to be rid of him, and to 
 have him out of harm's way ; for I had a forewarning, the 
 brute, that his mouth war a-watering after the new beasts 
 in the pin-fold, and after the brown horse in partickelar ! 
 And so I loaned him a horse, and set him off to Logan's. 
 Well, sir, and what does the brute do but ride off, for a 
 make-believe, to set us easy ; for he knew, the brute, if he 
 war in sight of us, we should have had guards over the 
 cattle all night long ; well, sir, down he sot in ambush till 
 all war quiet ; and then he stole back, and turning my own 
 horse among the others, as if to say, 'Thar's the beast that 
 I borrowed,' — it war a wonder the brute war so honest! — 
 picked the best of the gathering, your blooded brown horse, 
 sir ! and all the while I war sleeping like a brute, and leav- 
 ing the guest in my own house to be robbed by Captain 
 Ealph Stackpole, the villain !" 
 
 "If it be possible to follow the rascal," said Eoland, giv- 
 ing way to wrath himself, "I must do so, and without a 
 moment's delay. I would to heaven I had known this 
 earlier." 
 
 "Whar war the use," said Bruce, "whar war the use of 
 disturbing a tired man in his nap, and he a guest of mine 
 too?" 
 
 "The advantage would have been," said Eoland, a little 
 testily, "that the pursuit could have been instantly be- 
 gun." 
 
 "And whar it not!" said the colonel. "Thar war not 
 two minutes lost after the horse was missing afore my son 
 Tom and a dozen more of the best woodsmen war mounted 
 on the fleetest horses in the settlement and galloping after, 
 right on the brute's trail." 
 
 "Thanks, my friend," said Eoland, with a cordial grasp 
 of hand, "the horse will be recovered ?" 
 
 "Thar's no denying it," said Bruce, "if a fresh leg can 
 outrvin a weary one; and besides, the bri^te w^r not con'- 
 
60 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 tent with the best horse, but he must have the second best 
 too, that's Major Smalleye's two-y'ar-old pony. He has 
 an eye for a horse, the etarnal skirmudgeon ! but the pony 
 will be the death of him; for he's skeary, and will keep 
 Ealph slow in the path. No, sir, we will have your brown 
 horse before you can say Jack Eobinson. But the intoler- 
 ability of the thing, sir, is that Ealph Stackpole should 
 steal my guest's horse, sir ! But it's the end of his thiev- 
 ing, the brute, or thar's no snakes ! I told him Lynch war 
 out, the brute, and I told the boys to take care I war not 
 found lying; and I reckon they won't forget me! I like 
 the crittur, thar's no denying, for he's a screamer among 
 Injuns ! but thar's no standing a horse-thief ! no, sir, thar's 
 no standing a horse-thief !" 
 
 The only evil consequence of this accident which was 
 apprehended, was, that the march of the exiles must be 
 delayed until the soldier's horse was recovered, or Roland 
 himself left behind until the animal was brought in; un- 
 less, indeed, he chose to accept another freely offered him 
 by his gallant host, and trust to having his own charger 
 restored on some future occasion. He was himself unwill- 
 ing that the progress of more than a hundred human 
 beings towards the long-sighed-for land of promise should 
 be delayed a moment on his account; and for this reason 
 he exhorted his nominal superior to hasten the preparations 
 for departure without thinking of him. 
 
 His first resolution in relation to his own course was to 
 proceed with the company, leaving his horse to be sent after 
 him when recovered. He was loath, however, to leave the 
 highly-prized and long-tried charger behind; and Colonel 
 Bruce taking advantage of the feeling, and representing 
 the openness and safety of the road, the shortness of the 
 day's journey (for the next station at which the exiles in- 
 tended lodging was scarcely twenty miles distant), and 
 above all, promising, if he remained, to escort him thither 
 with a band of his young men, to whom the excursion would 
 be but an agreeable frolic, the soldier changed his mind, 
 ^nd in an evil hour^ §8 it afterwards appeared, ponseRteij 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. 61 
 
 to remain until Brown Briareus was brought in, provided 
 this should happen before mid-day; at which time, if the 
 horse did not appear, it was agreed he should set out, 
 trusting to his good fortune, and the friendly zeal of his 
 host for the future recovery and restoration of his charger. 
 Later than mid-day he was resolved not to remain; for, 
 however secure the road, it was wiser to pursue it in com- 
 pany than alone ; nor would he have consented to remain a 
 moment had there appeared the least impediment to his 
 joining the companions of his exile before nightfall. 
 
 His measures were taken accordingly. His baggage- 
 horses, under the charge of the younger of the two negroes, 
 were sent on with the band ; the other, an old and faithful 
 slave of his father, being retained as an useful appendage 
 to a party containing his kinswoman, from whom he, of 
 course, saw no reason to be separated. To Edith herself 
 the delay was far from being disagreeable. It promised 
 a gay and cheerful gallop through the forest, instead of the 
 dull, plodding, funeral-like march to which she had been 
 day after day monotonously accustomed. She assented, 
 therefore, to the arrangement, and, like her kinsman, be- 
 held, in the fresh light of sunrise, without a sigh, without 
 even a single foreboding of evil, the departure of the 
 train of emigrants, with whom she had journeyed in safety 
 so many long and weary leagues through the desert. 
 
 They set out in high spirits after shaking hands with 
 their hosts at the gates, and saluting them with cheers, 
 which they repeated in honor of their young captain ; and 
 in a few moments the whole train had vanished, as if swal- 
 lowed up by the dark forest. 
 
63 NICK or THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 A fearful army rages 
 Upon our territories; and have already 
 O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and took 
 hat lay before them. 
 
 — Coriolanus. 
 
 Within an hour after the emigrants had set ont, the sky, 
 which had previously been clear and radiant, began to be 
 overcast with clonds, dropping occasional rains, which 
 Eoland scarcely observed with regret, their effect on the 
 sultry atmosphere being highly agreeable and refreshing. 
 They continued thus to fall at intervals until nine o'clock, 
 when Eoland, as he sat on the porch debating with Bruce 
 the probabilities of their continuance, was roused by a 
 shout from the outer village, and, looking up, he beheld, to 
 his great delight, Eichard Bruce, the second son of his 
 host, a lad of sixteen, ride into the enclosure, leading in 
 triumph his recovered charger. 
 
 "Thar's the brute, strannger!" said he, with uncommon 
 glee; "he war too hard a hoss for Ealph's riding; and, I 
 reckon, if he hadn't been, you wouldn't have had him so 
 easy, for he's a peeler at run, trot, or gallop, he is, I 
 tell you ! It's bad luck for Stackpole to be flung by man 
 and beast two days hand-running, — first by Bloody Nathan, 
 then by a stolen crittur !" 
 
 "And whar is the brute Stackpole? And what have 
 you done with him ?" demanded Bruce. 
 
 "Thar, father, you're too hard for me," replied the 
 youth; ^'but I'll tell you all I know on it. You needn't 
 look at his legs, captain, for they're all as sound as hickory ; 
 the crittur's a bit worried with his morning's work; but 
 that's nothing to speak on." 
 
 The lad's story was soon told. The track of the horse- 
 thief had been followed through the woods; and it was 
 soon seen, from its irregularity, that he had made an un- 
 lucky geletjtiPD p| beasts, bgtU being so regtiy? ftnd rebeUioiis 
 
NICK OV THE WOODS. 63 
 
 that it was obvious he had found it no easy matter to urge 
 them along. A place was found where he appeared to have 
 been thrown by the turbulent Briareus, which he seemed 
 afterwards to have pursued, mounted on the pony, in the 
 vain hope of retaking the mettlesome charger, until per- 
 suaded of his inability, or afraid, from the direction in 
 which the animal had fled, of being led back again to the 
 settlement. His track, after abandoning the chase, was as 
 plain as that left by the war-horse, and was followed by the 
 main body of pursuers; while Kichard and two or three 
 others, taking the latter, had the good fortune to find and 
 recover the animal as he was solacing himself, after his 
 morning adventures, in a grassy wood, scarce two miles 
 from the station. What had become of Stackpole the lad 
 knew not, but had no doubt, as he added, with a knowing 
 look, "that Lynch's boys would soon give a good account of 
 him; for Major Smalleye war as mad as a beaten b'ar 
 about the two-y'ar-old pony." 
 
 "Well," said the father, "I reckon the brute will deserve 
 all he may come by; and thar's no use in mourning him. 
 Thar's as good Injun-fighters as he left in Kentucky, thar's 
 the comfort; and thar's no denying, men will be much 
 easier about their horses." 
 
 With this consoling assurance, in which Eoland saw 
 implied the visitation of the deadliest vengeance on the 
 head of the offender, Bruce proceeded to congratulate him 
 on the recovery of Brown Briareus, and to intimate his 
 readiness, after the animal had been allowed a little rest, 
 which it evidently needed, to marshal his band of young 
 men, and conduct him on his way after the exiles. But 
 fate willed that the friendly intention should never be put 
 into execution, and that the young soldier should go forth 
 on his pilgrimage unattended and unprotected. 
 
 Within the space of half an hour the clouds, which 
 seemed previously to have discharged all their moisture, 
 collected into a dense canopy, darkening the whole heaven, 
 and rumbling with thunder, that became every moment 
 louder and heavier. Then came gusts of wind, groaning 
 
64 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 through the forest^ rattling among the dead limbs of the 
 girdled trees, and whistling over the palisades of the fort. 
 These were succeeded by louder peals of thunder, and vivid 
 flashes of lightning, which continued and increased, until 
 the tempest, for such it was, burst in fury, discharging 
 deluges of rain, that fell with unintermitting violence until 
 an hour or more after mid-day. 
 
 This was a circumstance, which, as it necessarily de- 
 ferred the moment of his setting out, caused Forrester a 
 little uneasiness; but he soon came to believe he had rea- 
 son to congratulate himself on its occurrence, since it was 
 scarce possible the band would continue their journey in 
 such a storm; and, indeed, Bruce was of opinion that the 
 day's march would be ended on the banks of the river, — 
 one of the principal forks of the Salt, — ^but little more 
 than ten miles from his station; where, if the exiles were 
 wise, they would pitch their camp, waiting for the sub- 
 sidence of the waters. This was a point that Eoland might 
 be expected to reach in a ride of three or four hours at 
 most ; which consideration not only satisfied him under the 
 delay, but almost made him resolve to defer his setting out 
 until the following morning, that his kinswoman might 
 have the advantage of sleeping a second time under the 
 shelter of a roof, rather than be compelled to exchange it 
 for the chill and humid forest. 
 
 It was while he was balancing this thought in his mind, 
 and watching with a gladdened eye the first flash of sun- 
 shine, breaking through the parted clouds, that a shout, 
 louder than that which had proclaimed the recovery of his 
 steed, but of a vrild and mournful character, arose from 
 the outer village, and a horseman, covered with mud, reek- 
 ing with rain, and reeling in the saddle with fatigue and 
 exhaustion, rode into the fort, followed by a crowd of men, 
 women, and children, all testifying by their looks and ex- 
 clamations that he was the bearer of alarming news. And 
 such indeed he was, as was shown by the first words he 
 answered in reply to Brace's demand^ "What was the mat- 
 ter?" 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 65 
 
 "There are a thousand Indians," he said, "Sha-wnees, 
 Delawares, Wyandots, Miamies, — all the tribes of the 
 North, laying siege to Bryant's station, and perhaps at 
 this moment they are burning and murdering at Lexing- 
 ton. Men, Colonel Bruce! send us all your men without 
 a moment's delay ; and send ofE for Logan and his forces ; 
 despatch some one who can ride, for I can sit a horse no 
 longer." 
 
 "Whar's Dick Bruce?" cried the Kentuekian; and the 
 son answering, he continued, "Mount the roan long-legs, 
 you brute, and ride to St. Asaph's in no time. Tell Gunnel 
 Logan what you h'ar; and add, that before he can draw 
 girth I shaU be with every fighting man in my fort on the 
 north side of Kentucky. Eide, you brute, ride for your 
 life ; and do you take car' you come along with the cunnel ; 
 for it's time you war trying your hand at an Injun top- 
 knot. Eide, you brute, ride !" 
 
 "Wah — wah — wah — wah!" whooped the boy, like a 
 young Indian, flying to obey the order, and exulting in 
 the expectation of combat. 
 
 "Sound horn, you Samuel Sharp!" cried the father. 
 "You, Ben Jones, and some more of you, ride out and rouse 
 the settlements ; and, some of you hunt up Tom Bruce and 
 the regulators ; it war a pity they hanged Ealph Stackpole, 
 for he fights Injuns like a wolverine. Tell all them that 
 arn't ready to start to follow at a hard gallop, and join me 
 at the ford of Kentucky ; and them that can't join me thar, 
 let them follow to Lexington; and them that don't find 
 me thar, let them follow to Bryant's, or to any whar whar 
 thar's Injuns! Hurrah, you brutes! whar's your guns 
 and your horses? your knives and your tomahawks? 
 If thar's a thousand Injuns, or half of 'em, thar's meat 
 for all of you. Whar's Ikey Jones, the fifer ? Let's have 
 Yankee-Doodle and the Eogue's March; for, by the 'tarnal 
 Old Scratch, all them white men that arn't a-horseback 
 in twenty-five minutes are rogues worse than red Injuns ! — 
 Hurrah for Kentucky !" 
 
 The spirit of the worthy officer of militia infused ani- 
 
66 
 
 NICK OF THE "Vl^OODS. 
 
 mation into all bosoms; and in an instant the settlement, 
 late so peaceful, resounded with the hum and uproar of 
 warlike preparation. Horses were caught and saddled, 
 rifles pulled from their perches, knives sharpened, ammuni- 
 tion-pouches and provender-bags filled, and every other 
 step taken necessary to the simple equipment of a border 
 army, called to action in an emergency so sudden and ur- 
 gent. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the intelligence was not without its 
 effects on Eoland Forrester, who, seeing himself so unex- 
 pectedly deprived of the promised escort, — for he could 
 scarce think, under such circumstances, of withdrawing a 
 siogle man from the force called to a duty so important, — 
 perceived the necessity of employing his own resources to 
 effect escape from a position which he now felt to be em- 
 barrassing. He regretted, for the first time, his separation 
 from the band of emigrants, and became doubly anxious to 
 follow them; for, if it were true that so large a force of 
 Indians were really in the district, there was every rea- 
 son to suppose they would, according to their known sys- 
 tem of warfare, divide into small parties, and scatter over 
 the whole country, infesting every road and path; and he 
 knew not how soon some of them might be found following 
 on the heels of the messenger. He took advantage of the 
 first symptom of returning serenity on the part of his host 
 to acquaint him with his resolution to set out immediately, 
 the rains having ceased, and the clouds broken up and al- 
 most vanished. 
 
 "Lord, captain," said the Kentuckian, "I hoped you 
 would have been for taking a brush with us ; and it war my 
 idea to send a messenger after your party, in hopes your 
 men would join us in the rusty. Whar will they have 
 such another chance ! A thousand Injuns ready cut and 
 dried for killing ! Lord, what a fool I war for not setting 
 more store by that tale of Kathan Slaughter's ! I never 
 knowed the brute to lie in such a case ; for, as he is always 
 ramping about the woods, he's as good as a paid scout. 
 Howsomever, the crittur didn't speak on his own knowl- 
 
NICK OF THE 'WOODS. 6'^ 
 
 edge, and that infarnal Stackpole was just ripe from the 
 Forth side. But, I say, captain, if your men will fight 
 just tote 'em back, stow away the women behind the logs 
 here, and march your guns after me ; and if thar's half the 
 number of red niggers they speak of to be found, you shall 
 see an affa'r of a skrimmage that will be good for your 
 wholesome, — you will, by the etarnal!" 
 
 "If the men are of that mind," said Eoland, gallantly, 
 "I am not the one to balk them. I will, at least, see 
 whither their inclinations tend; and that the matter may 
 the sooner be decided, I will set out without delay." 
 
 "And we who war to escort you, captain," said the Ken- 
 tuekian, with some embarrassment; "you're a soldier, cap- 
 tain, and you see the case." 
 
 "I do; I have no desire to weaken your force; and I 
 trust no protection is needed." 
 
 "Not an iota; the road is as safe as the furrow of a 
 Virginnie corn-field, — at least till you strike the lower 
 Forks; and thar I've heard of no rampaging since last 
 summer; I'll indamnify you against all loss and mischief, 
 — I will if it war on my salvation !" 
 
 "If you could but spare me a single guide," said For- 
 rester. 
 
 "Whar's the use, captain? The road is as broad and 
 cl'ar as a turnpike in the Old Dominion ; it leads you, chock 
 up, right on the Upper Ford, whar thar's safe passage at 
 any moment; but, I reckon, the rains will make it look a 
 little wrathy a while, and so fetch your people to a stand- 
 still. But it's a pot soon full and soon empty, and it will 
 be low enough in the morning." 
 
 ".The Upper Ford?" said Roland, his dream, for so he 
 esteemed it, recurring to his mind ; "is there then a Lower 
 Ford?" 
 
 "Ay," replied Bruce; "but thar's no passing it in the 
 freshes ; and besides the place has a bad name. It war thar 
 old John Ashburn pitched his station in '78; but the 
 savages made murdering work of him, taking every scalp 
 in the company ; and so it makes one sad-like to pass thar, 
 
68 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 and the more partickelarly that it's all natteral fine ground 
 for an ambush. You'll see the road when you are six 
 miles deep in the forest, turning off to the right, under a 
 shivered beech-tree. You are then four miles from the 
 river, or thereabouts, and just that distance, I reckon, from 
 your company. 'No, captain," he repeated, "the road is 
 wide and open, and a guide war mere lumber on your 
 hands." 
 
 This was a point, however, on which the young soldier, 
 doubly solicitous on his kinswoman's account, to avoid 
 mistake, was not so easily satisfied; seeing which, the Ken- 
 tuckian yielded to his importunity, — perhaps somewhat 
 ashamed of suffering his guests to depart entirely alone, — 
 and began to cast about him for some suitable person who 
 could be prevailed upon to exchange the privilege of fight- 
 ing the Indians for the inglorious duty of conducting way- 
 farers through the forest. This was no easy task, and it 
 was not until he assumed his military authority, as com- 
 mander of all the enrolled militia-men in his district, em- 
 powered to make such disposition of his forces as he thought 
 fit, that he succeeded in compelling the service of one of 
 his reluctant followers, under whose guidance Eoland and 
 his little party soon after set out. 
 
 Their farewells were briefly said, the urgent nature of 
 his duties leaving the hospitable Bruce little opportunity 
 for superfluous speech. He followed them, however, to the 
 bottom of the hill, grasped Eoland by the hand; and do- 
 ing the same thing by Edith, as if his conscience smote 
 him for dismissing her with so little ceremony and such 
 insufficient attendance, he swore that if any evil happened 
 to her on the road he would rest neither night nor day 
 until he had repaired it, or lost his scalp in the effort. 
 
 With this characteristic and somewhat ominous farewell, 
 he took his leave; and the cousins, with their guide and 
 faithful servant, spurred onwards at a brisk pace until the 
 open fields of the settlement were exchanged for the deep 
 and gloomy woodlands. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 69 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 Wilt thou go with me? 
 
 I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without more talking. 
 
 — Tempest. 
 
 I 
 
 The sun shone out clearly and brilliantly; the tree- 
 tops, from which the winds had already shaken the rain, 
 rustled freshly to the more moderate breezes that had suc- 
 ceeded them, and Eoland, animated by the change, by the 
 brisk pace at which he was riding, and by the hope of soon 
 overtaking his fellow-exiles, met the Joyous looks of his 
 kinswoman with a countenance no longer disturbed by 
 care. 
 
 And yet there was a solemnity in the scene around them 
 that might have called for other and more sombre feelings. 
 The forest into which they had plunged was of the grand 
 and gloomy character which the fertility of the soil, and 
 the absence of the axe for a thousand years, imprint on the 
 western woodlands, especially in the vicinity of rivers. 
 Oaks, elms and walnuts, tulip-trees and beeches, with other 
 monarchs of the wilderness, lifted their trunks like so many 
 pillars, green with mosses and ivies, and swung their ma- 
 jestic arms, tufted with mistletoe, far overhead, supporting 
 a canopy — a series of domes and arches without end — that 
 had for ages overshadowed the soil. Their roots, often con- 
 cealed by a billowy undergrowth of shrubs and bushes, 
 oftener by brakes of the gigantic and evergreen cane, form- 
 ing fences as singular as they were, for the most part, im- 
 penetrable, were yet at times visible, where open glades 
 stretched through the woods, broken only by buttressed 
 trunks, and by the stems of colossal vines, hanging from 
 the boughs like cables, or the arms of an Oriental banyan, 
 while their luxuriant tops rolled in union with the leafy 
 roofs that supported them. The vague and shadowy pros- 
 pects opened by these occasional glades, stirred the imagi- 
 nation and produced a feeling of solitude in the mind, 
 
'^0 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 greater perhaps than would have been felt, had the view 
 been continually bounded by a green wall of canes. 
 
 The road, if such it could be called, through this noble 
 forest, was, like that the emigrants had so long pursued 
 through the wilderness, a mere path, designated where the 
 wood was' open by blazes or axe-marks on the trees; and 
 where the undergrowth was dense, a narrow-track cut 
 through the canes and shrubs, scarcely sufficient in many 
 places to allow the passage of two horsemen abreast ; though 
 when, as was frequently the case, it followed the ancient 
 routes of the bisons to fords and salt-licks, it presented, as 
 Bruce had described, a wide and commodious highway, 
 practicable even to wheeled carriages. 
 
 The gait of the little party over this road was at first 
 rapid and cheery enough ; but by and by, having penetrated 
 deeper into the wood where breezes and sunbeams were 
 alike unknown, they found their progress impeded by a 
 thousand pools and sloughs, the consequences of the storm, 
 that stretched from brake to brake. These interruptions 
 promised to make the evening journey longer than Roland 
 had anticipated; but he caught at intervals the fresh foot- 
 prints of his comrades in the soil where it was not exposed 
 to the rains, and reflected with pleasure that travelling 
 even at the slowest pace, he must reach the ford, where he 
 expected to find them encamped, long before dark. He 
 felt, therefore, no uneasiness at the delay; nor did he 
 think any of those obstacles to rapid progress a cause for 
 regret, that gave him the better opportunity to interchange 
 ideas with his fair kinswoman. 
 
 His only concern arose from the conduct of his guide, a 
 rough, dark-visaged man, who had betrayed, from the first 
 moment of starting, a sullen countenance, indicative of his 
 disinclination to the duty assigned him, which feeling evi- 
 dently grew stronger the further he advanced, notwith- 
 standing sundry efforts Forrester made to bring him into 
 a better humor. He displayed no desire to enter into con- 
 versation with the soldier, replying to such questions as 
 were directed at him with a brevity little short of rudeness ; 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 71 
 
 and his smothered exclamations of impatience, whenever 
 his delicate followers slackened their pace at a bog or gully, 
 which he had himself dashed through with a manly con- 
 tempt of mud and mire, somewhat stirred the choler of the 
 young captain. 
 
 They had perhaps followed him a distance of four miles 
 into the forest, when the occurrence of a wider and deeper 
 pool than ordinary producing a corresponding delay on the 
 part of Eoland, who was somewhat averse to plunging with 
 Edith up to the saddle-girths in mire, drew from him a 
 very unmannerly, though not the less hearty execration on 
 the delicacy of "them thar persons, who," as he expressed 
 it, "stumped at a mud-hole as skearily as if every tadpole 
 in it war a screeching Injun." 
 
 Of this explosion of ill-temper Eoland took no notice, 
 until he had, with the assistance of Emperor, the negro, 
 effected a safe passage for Edith over the puddle, in the 
 course of which he had leisure to observe that the path now 
 struck into a wide buffalo-street, that swept away through 
 a wilderness of wood and cane-brake, in nearly a straight 
 line for a considerable distance. He observed also, that 
 the road looked drier and less broken than usual ; his satis- 
 faction at which had the good effect of materially abating 
 the rage into which he had been thrown by the uncivil 
 bearing of the guide. Nevertheless, he had no sooner 
 brought his kinswoman safely to land, than leaving her in 
 the charge of Emperor, he galloped up to the side of his 
 conductor, and gave vent to his indignation in the follow- 
 ing pithy query: 
 
 "My friend," said he, "will you have the goodness to in- 
 form me whether you have ever lived in a land where cour- 
 tesy to strangers, and kindness and respect to women, are 
 ranked among the virtues of manhood?" 
 
 The man replied only by a fierce and angry stare, and 
 plying the ribs of his horse with his heels, he dashed on- 
 wards. But Eoland kept at his side, not doubting that a 
 little more wholesome reproof would be of profit to the man 
 as veU 8§ asiYftntase^JViB to hl^ <?v» inteT?§t§, 
 
73 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 "I ask that question," lie continued, '^because a man 
 from sucli a land, seeing strangers, and one of them a fe- 
 male, struggling in a bog, would, instead of standing upon 
 dry land, making disrespectful remarks, have done his best 
 to help them through it." 
 
 "Strannger," said the man, drawing up his horse, and 
 looking, notwithstanding his anger, as if he felt the rebuke 
 to be in a measure just, "I am neither hog nor dog, Injun 
 nor outlandish niggur, but a man, — a man, strannger ! out- 
 side and inside, in flesh, blood, and spirit, just as my 
 Maker made me; though thar may be something of the 
 scale-bark and parsimmon about me, TU not deny ; for I've 
 heer'd on it before. I axes the lady's pardon if I have 
 offended; and thar's the eend on't." 
 
 "The end of it," said Forrester, "will be much more 
 satisfactory, if you give no further occasion for complaint. 
 But now," he continued, Edith drawing nigh, '^et us ride 
 on, and as fast as you like, for the road seems both open and 
 good." 
 
 "Strannger," said the guide, without budging an inch, 
 "you have axed me a question; and according to the fa'r 
 rule of the woods, it's my right to ax you another." 
 
 "Very well," said Roland, assenting to the justice of the 
 rule ; "ask it and be brief." 
 
 "What you war saying of the road is true; thar it goes, 
 wide, open, cl'ar, and straight, with as good a fence on 
 both sides of it to keep in stragglers, as war ever made of 
 ash, oak, or chestnut rails, — ^though it's nothing but a 
 natteral bank of cane-brake; and so it runs, jest as cl'ar 
 and wide, all the way to the river." 
 
 "I am glad to hear it," was the soldier's reply; "but 
 now for your question?" 
 
 "H'yar it is," said the man, flinging out his hand with 
 angry energy, "I wants to ax of you, as a sodger, for I've 
 heer'd you're of the reggelar sarvice, whether it's a wiser 
 and more Christian affa'r, when thar's Injuns in the land 
 a murdering of your neighbor's wives and children, and all 
 jtbe settlementg w a ^a^^mli ^^^ ^ cry, tp se»4 m aWf' 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. '?'3 
 
 bodied man to fight them ; or to tote him off a day's journey 
 thar and back ag'in, to track a road that a blind man on a 
 blind horse could travel, without axing questions of any 
 body? Thar's my question/' he added, somewhat vehe- 
 mently; "and now let's have a sodger's answer!" 
 
 "My good friend," said Eoland, a little offended, and yet 
 more embarrassed by the interrogatory, "none can tell bet- 
 ter than yourself how much or how little occasion I may 
 have for a guide. Your question, therefore, I leave you to 
 answer yourself. If you think your duty calls you to 
 abandon a woman in the wild woods to such guidance as 
 one wholly unacquainted with them can give, you can de- 
 part as soon as you think fit ; for I cannot " 
 
 The guide gave him no time to finish the sentence. 
 "You're right, strannger," he cried ; "thar is your road, as 
 plain as the way up a hickory, b'aring to a camp of old 
 friends and acquaintances, — and h'yar is mine, running 
 right slap among fighting Injuns !" 
 
 And with that he turned his horse's head, and flourishing 
 his right hand, armed with the ever-constant rifle, above his 
 own, and uttering a whoop expressive of the wild pleasure 
 he felt at being released from his ignoble duty, he dashed 
 across the pool, and galloped in a moment out of sight, 
 leaving Eoland and his party confounded at the desertion. 
 
 "An outlandish niggur!" muttered old Emperor, on 
 whom this expression of the guide had produced no very 
 favorable effect ; "guess the gemman white-man is a niggur 
 himself, and a rogue, and a potater, or whatsomever you 
 call 'em! Leab a lady and a gemman lost in the woods, 
 and neither take 'em on nor take 'em back ! — lor-a-massy !" 
 
 To this half-soliloquized expression of indignation the 
 soldier felt inclined to add a few bitter invectives of his 
 own ; but Edith, treating the matter lightly, and affecting 
 to be better pleased at the rude man's absence than she 
 had been with his company, he abated his own wrath, and 
 acknowledged that the desertion afforded the best proof of 
 the safety of the road; since he could not believe that the 
 f§llgj^ v^tb fill Jwi ypuglweps m^ iuMmm^; wuld hay? 
 
'5'4 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 been so base as to leave them, while really surrounded by 
 difficulty. He remembered enough of Bruce's description 
 of the road, which he had taken care should be minute and 
 exact, to feel persuaded that the principal obstructions 
 were now over, and that, as the guide had said, there was 
 no possibility of wandering from the path. 
 
 They had already travelled nearly half the distance to the 
 river, and to accomplish the remainder they had yet four 
 hours of daylight. He saw no reason why they should not 
 proceed alone, trusting to their good fate for a fortunate 
 issue to the enterprise. To return to the fort would be 
 only to separate themselves further from their friends, 
 without insuring them a better guide, or, indeed, any 
 guide at all, since it was highly probable they would find 
 it only occupied by women and children. In a word, he 
 satisfied himself that nothing remained for him but to con- 
 tinue his journey, and trust to his own sagacity to end it 
 to advantage. 
 
 He set out accordingly, followed by Edith and Emperor, 
 the latter bringing up the rear in true military style, and 
 handling his rifle as if almost desirous of finding an op- 
 portunity to use it in the service of his young mistress. 
 
 In this manner they travelled onwards with but little in- 
 terruption for more than a mile; and Eoland was begin- 
 ning anxiously to look for the path that led to the Lower 
 Ford, when Emperor galloped to the van and brought the 
 party to a halt, by reporting that he heard the sound of 
 hoofs following at a distance behind. 
 
 "Perhaps — perhaps," said Edith, while the gleam of her 
 eye, shining with sudden pleasure, indicated how little 
 real satisfaction she had felt at the desertion of their con- 
 ductor — "perhaps it is the sour fellow, the guide, coming 
 back, ashamed of his misconduct." 
 
 "We shall soon see," said Eoland, turning his horse to 
 reconnoitre ; a proceeding that was, however, rendered un- 
 necessary by the hurried speed of the comer, who, dashing 
 suddenly round a bend in the road, disclosed to his won- 
 .dering eyes, not tt)§ tall frsune ^nd sullen aspect of tt;9 
 
NICK OF THE -WOODS. '^5 
 
 guide, but the lighter figure and fairer visage of the girl, 
 Telle Doe. She was evidently arrayed for travel, having 
 donned her best attire of blue cloth, with a little cap of the 
 same color on her head, under which her countenance, beam- 
 ing with exercise and anxiety, looked, in both Eoland's 
 and Edith's eyes, extremely pretty, much more so, indeed, 
 than either had deemed her to be ; while secured behind the 
 cushion, or pillon, on which she rode — for not a jot of 
 saddle had she — was a little bundle, containing such 
 worldly comforts as were necessary to one seriously bent 
 upon a journey. 
 
 She was mounted upon a sprightly pony, which she 
 managed with more address and courage than would have 
 been augured from her former timorous demeanor; and it 
 was plain that she had put him to his mettle through the 
 woods, with but little regard to the sloughs and puddles 
 which had so greatly embarrassed the fair Edith. Indeed, 
 it appeared that the exercise which had infused animation 
 into her countenance had bestowed a share also on her 
 spirit ; for having checked her horse an instant, and looked 
 a little abashed at the sudden sight of the strangers, she 
 recovered herself in a moment, and riding boldly up, pro- 
 ceeded, without waiting to be questioned, to explain the 
 cause of her appearance. She had met the deserter, she 
 said, returning to the station, and thinking it was not 
 right the stranger lady should be left without a guide in 
 the woods, she had ridden after her to offer her services. 
 
 "It was at least somewhat surprising," Eoland could not 
 avoid saying, "that the fellow should have found you al- 
 ready equipt in the woods ?" 
 
 At this innuendo. Telle was somewhat embarrassed, but 
 more so when, looking towards Edith, as if to address her 
 reply to her, she caught the inquiring look of the latter, 
 made still more expressive by the recollection which Edith 
 retained of the earnest entreaty Telle had made the pre- 
 ceding night, to be taken into her service. 
 
 "I will not tell you a falsehood, ma'am," she said at last, 
 with a firm voice; "I was not on the road by chance; I 
 
'5'6 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 came to follow you. I knew the man you had to guide 
 you was unwilling to go, and I thought he would leave you, 
 as he has done. And, besides, the road is not so clear as it 
 seems; it branches off to so many of the salt-licks, and the 
 tracks are so washed away by the rains that none but one 
 that knows it can be sure of keeping it long." 
 
 "And how," inquired Edith, very pointedly— for, in her 
 heart, she suspected the little damsel was determined to 
 enter her service, whether she would or not, and had actu- 
 ally run away from her friends for the purpose, — "how 
 after you have led us to our party, do you expect to return 
 again to your friends?" 
 
 "If you will let me go with you as far as Jackson station" 
 (the settlement at which it was originally determined the 
 emigrants should pass the night), said the maiden, humbly, 
 "I will find friends there who will take me home ; and per- 
 haps our own people will come for me — for they are often 
 visiting about among the stations." 
 
 This declaration, made in a tone that convinced Edith 
 the girl had gi'sn over all hopes of being received into her 
 protection, unless she could remove opposition by the serv- 
 ices she might render on the way, pointed out also an easy 
 mode of getting rid of her, when a separation should be 
 advisable, and thus removed the only objection she felt to 
 accept her proffered guidance. 
 
 As for Eoland, however, he expressed much natural re- 
 luctance to drag a young and inexperienced female so far 
 from her home, leaving her afterwards to return as she 
 might. But he perceived that her presence gave courage to 
 his kinswoman ; he felt that her acquaintance with the path 
 was more to be relied upon than his own sagacity; and he 
 knew not, if he even rejected her offered services alto- 
 gether, how he could with any grace communicate the re- 
 fusal, and leave her abandoned to her own discretion in the 
 forests. He felt a little inclined, at first, to wonder at the 
 interest she seemed to have taken in his cousin's welfare; 
 but, by and by, he reflected that perhaps, after all, her mo- 
 tive lay in no better or deeper feeling than a mere girlish 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 77 
 
 desire to make her way to the neighboring station (twenty 
 miles make but a neighborly distance in the wilderness), 
 to enjoy a frolic among her gadding acquaintance. 
 
 This reflection ended the struggle in his mind ; and turn- 
 ing to her, with a smiling countenance, he said, "If you 
 are so sure of getting home, my pretty maid, you may be 
 as certain we will be glad of your company and guidance. 
 But let us delay no longer." 
 
 The girl, starting at these words with alacrity, switched 
 her pony and darted to the head of the little party, as if 
 addressing herself to her duty in a business-like way ; and 
 there she maintained her position with great zeal, although 
 Eoland and Edith endeavored, for kindness' sake, to make 
 her sensible they desired her to ride with them as a com- 
 panion, and not at a distance like a pioneer. The faster 
 they spurred, however, the more zealously she plied her 
 switch, and her pony being both spirited and fresh, whUe 
 their own horses were both not a little the worse for their 
 long journey, she managed to keep in front, maintaining a 
 gait that promised in a short time to bring them to the 
 banks of the river. 
 
 They had ridden perhaps a mile in this manner when a 
 sudden opening ia the cane-brake on the right hand, at a 
 place where stood a beech-tree riven by a thunderbolt in 
 former years, but still spreading its shattered ruins in the 
 air, convinced Eoland that he had at last reached the road 
 to the Lower Ford, which Bruce had so strictly cautioned 
 him to avoid. What, therefore, was his surprise when 
 Telle, having reached the tree, turned at once into the by- 
 road, leaving the direct path which they had so long pur- 
 sued, and which still swept away before them, as spacious 
 and uninterrupted, save by occasional pools, as ever. 
 
 "You are wrong," he cried, checking his steed. 
 
 "This is the road, sir," said the girl, though in some 
 trepidation. 
 
 "By no means," said Forrester; "that path leads to the 
 Lower Ford; here is the shivered beech which the colonel 
 described to me." 
 
78 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Telie, hurriedly; "it is the mark; they 
 call it the Crooked Finger-post." 
 
 "And a crooked road it is like to lead us if we follow it," 
 said Eoland. "It leads to the Lower Ford, and is not 
 therefore our road. I remember the colonel's direction." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Telie, anxiously, "to take the beech on 
 the right shoulder and then down four miles to the 
 water." 
 
 "Precisely so," said the soldier; "with only this dif- 
 ference (for, go which way we will, the tree being on the 
 right side of each path, we must still keep it on the right 
 shoulder), that the road to the Upper Ford, which I am 
 now travelling, is the one for our purposes. Of this I am 
 confident." 
 
 "And yet, Eoland," said Edith, somewhat alarmed at 
 this difference of opinion, where unanimity was so much 
 more desirable, "the young woman should know best." 
 
 "Yes!" cried Telie, eagerly, "I have lived here almost 
 seven years, and been across the river more than as many 
 times. This is the shortest and safest way." 
 
 "It may be both the shortest and safest," said Forrester, 
 whose respect for the girl's knowledge of the woods, and 
 ability to guide him through them, began to be vastly di- 
 minished; "but this is the road Mr. Bruce described. Of 
 this I am positive ; and to make the matter stiU more cer- 
 tain, if need be, here are horse-tracks, fresh, numerous, 
 scarcely washed by the rain, and undoubtedly made by our 
 old companions ; whereas that path seems not to have been 
 trodden for a twelvemonth." 
 
 "I will guide you right," faltered Telie, with anxious 
 voice. 
 
 "My good girl," said the soldier, kindly, but positively, 
 "you must allow me to doubt your ability to do that, — at 
 least, on that path. Here is our road, and we must fol- 
 low it." 
 
 He resumed it as he spoke, and Edith, conquered by his 
 arguments, which seemed decisive, followed him ; but look- 
 ing back, after having proceeded a few steps, she saw th? 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. '^^ 
 
 baffled guide still lingering on the rejected path, and 
 wringing her hands with grief and disappointment. 
 
 "You will not remain behind us?" said Edith, riding 
 back to her; "you see, my cousin is positive; you must 
 surely be mistaken." 
 
 "I am not mistaken," said the girl earnestly; "and, oh, 
 he will repent that ever he took his own way through this 
 forest !" 
 
 "How can that be ? what cause have you to say so ?" 
 
 "I do not know," murmured the damsel in woful per- 
 plexity; "but — but, sometimes that road is dangerous." 
 
 "Sometimes all roads are so," said Edith, her patience 
 failing when she found Telle could give no better reason 
 for her opposition. "Let us continue ; my kinsman is wait- 
 ing us, and we must lose no more time by delay." 
 
 With these words she again trotted forward, and Telle, 
 after hesitating a moment, thought fit to follow. 
 
 But now the animation that had, a few moments before, 
 beamed forth in every look and gesture of the maiden, gave 
 place to dejection of spirits, and even, as Edith thought, to 
 alarm. She seemed as anxious now to linger in the rear 
 as she had been before to preserve a bold position in front. 
 Her eyes wandered timorously from brake to tree, as if in 
 fear lest each should conceal a lurking enemy ; and often, 
 as Edith looked back, she was struck with the singularly 
 mournful and distressed expression of her countenance. 
 
80 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 Strange and several noises 
 Of roaring, shrieking, howling, 
 And more diversity of sounds, all horrible! 
 
 — Tempest. 
 look, sir, look, sir; 
 I prophesied, if a gallows were on land. 
 This fellow could not drown. 
 
 — Tempest. 
 
 These symptoms of anxiety and alarm affected Edith's 
 own spirit ; they did more, they shook her faith in the jus- 
 tice of her kinsman's conclusions. His arguments in re- 
 lation to the road were indeed unanswerable, and Telle 
 had offered none to weaken them. Yet why should she 
 betray such distress if they were upon the right one? and 
 why, in fact, should she not be supposed to know both the 
 right and the wrong, since she had, as she said, so fre- 
 quently travelled both? 
 
 These questions Edith could not refrain from asking of 
 Eoland, who professed himself unable to answer them, 
 unless by supposing the girl had become confused, as ha 
 thought was not improbable, or had, in reality, been so 
 long absent from the forest as to have forgotten its paths 
 altogether; which was likely enough, as she seemed a very 
 simple-minded, inexperienced creature. 
 
 "But why need we," he said, "trouble ourselves to find 
 reasons for the poor girl's opposition? Here are the 
 tracks of our friends, broader and deeper than ever; here 
 they wind down into the hollow, and there you may see 
 where they have floundered through that vile pool, that is 
 still turbid, where they crossed it. A horrible quagmire ! 
 But courage, my fair cousin; it is only such difficulties as 
 these that the road can lead us into." 
 
 Such were the expressions with which the young soldier 
 endeavored to reassure his kinswoman's courage, his own 
 confidence remaining still unmoved; although in secret he 
 felt somewhat surprised at the coincidence between the 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 81 
 
 girl's recommendations of the by-road and the injunctions 
 of his morning dream. But while pondering over the won- 
 der, he had arrived at the quagmire alluded to, through 
 which the difficulties of conducting his cousin were suffi- 
 ciently great to banish other matters for a moment from 
 his mind. 
 
 Having crossed it at last in safety, he paused to give 
 such instructions or assistance as might be needed by his 
 two followers, when Edith, who had halted at his side, sud- 
 denly laid her hand on his arm, and exclaimed, with a 
 visage of terror — "Hark, Koland! do you hear! What is 
 that?" 
 
 "Heard him, massa !" ejaculated Emperor from the mid- 
 dle of the bog, with voice still more quavering than the 
 maiden's, and lips rapidly changing from Spanish brown 
 to clayey yellow ; "heard him, massa ! Reckon it's an In- 
 jun ! lor-ra-massy !" 
 
 "Peace, fool," cried Forrester, bending his look from 
 the alarmed countenance of his kinswoman to the quarter 
 whence had proceeded the sound which had so suddenly 
 struck terror into her bosom. 
 
 "Hark, Eoland! it rises again!" she exclaimed; and 
 Eoland now distinctly heard a sound in the depth of the 
 forest to the right hand, as of the yell of a human being, 
 but at a great distance off. At the place which they had 
 reached, the canes and undergrowth of other kinds had dis- 
 appeared, and a wide glade, stretching over hill and hollow, 
 swept away from both sides of the road further than the 
 eye could see. The trees, standing wider apart than usual. 
 Were, if possible, of a more majestic stature; their wide, 
 massive tops were so thickly interlaced, that not a 
 single sunbeam found its way among the gloomy arcades 
 below. A wilder, more solitary, and more awe-inspiring 
 spot, Eoland had not before seen; and it was peculiarly 
 fitted to add double effect to sights and sounds of a melan- 
 choly or fearful character. Accordingly, when the cry 
 was repeated, as it soon was, though at the same distance as 
 before, it came echoing among the hollow arches of the 
 
83 NICK OP a:SE WOODS. 
 
 woods with a wild and almost unearthly cadence, the utter- 
 ance, as it seemed, of mortal agony and despair, that 
 breathed a secret horror through the breasts of all. 
 
 "It is the Jibbenainosay !" muttered the shivering Telie ; 
 "these are the woods he used to range in most; and they 
 say he screams after his prey ! It is not too late : — ^let us 
 go back!" 
 
 "An Injun, massa," said Emperor, stuttering with fright, 
 and yet proceeding both to handle his arms, and to give 
 encouragement to his young mistress; which his age and 
 privileged character, as well as the urgency of the occasion, 
 entitled him to do; "don't be afraid, missie Edie; nebber 
 mind; — old Emperor will fight and die for missie, old 
 massa John's daughter !" 
 
 "Hist !" said Eoland, as another scream rose on the air, 
 louder and more thrilling than before. 
 
 "It is the cry of a human being!" said Edith, — "of a 
 man in distress !" 
 
 'It is indeed," replied the soldier, — "of a man in great 
 peril, or suffering. Eemain here on the road; and if any 
 thing — nay, if you will follow me, it may be better ; but let 
 it be at a distance. If any thing happens to me, set spurs 
 to your horses ; — Telie here can at least lead you back to the 
 fort." 
 
 With these words, and without waiting to hear the re- 
 monstrances or remove the terrors of his companions, the 
 young man turned his horse into the wood, and, guided 
 by the cries, which were almost incessant, soon found him- 
 self in the vicinity of the place from which they pro- 
 ceeded. It was a thick grove of beeches of colossal growth 
 of the west, their stems as tall and as straight as the pines 
 of the AUeghanies, and their boughs arched and pendulous 
 like those of the elm, almost sweeping the earth below, over 
 which they cast shadows so dark that scarcely any thing 
 was visible beneath them, save their hoary and spectral 
 trunks. 
 
 As Eoland, followed by his little party, approached this 
 spot, the cries of the unknown, and as yet unseen sufferer^j 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 83 
 
 fearful even at a distance, grew into the wildest shrieks of 
 fear, mingled with groans, howls, broken prayers, and exe- 
 crations, and half inarticulate expressions, now of fondling 
 entreaty, now of fierce and frantic command, that seemed 
 addressed to a second person hard by. 
 
 A thousand strange and appalling conceits had crept into 
 Eoland's mind, when he first heard the cries. One while 
 he almost fancied he had stumbled on a gang of savages, 
 who were torturing a prisoner to death; another moment, 
 he thought the yells must proceed from some unlucky hun- 
 ter, perishing by inches in the grasp of a wild beast, per- 
 haps a bear or panther, with which animals it was easy to 
 believe the forest might abound. 
 
 With such horrible fancies oppressing his mind, his sur- 
 prise may be imagined, when, having cocked a rifle and 
 thrown open his holsters, to be prepared for the worst, he 
 rushed into the grove, and beheld a spectacle no more 
 formidable than was presented by a single individual, — a 
 man in a shaggy blanket-coat, sitting on horseback under 
 one of the most venerable of the beeches, and uttering those 
 diabolical outcries that had alarmed the party, for no 
 imaginable purpose, as Eoland was at first inclined to 
 suspect, unless for his own private diversion. 
 
 A second look, however, convinced the soldier that the 
 wretched being had sufficient cause for his clamor, being, 
 in truth, in a situation almost as dreadful as any Roland 
 had imagined. His arms were pinioned behind his back, 
 and his neck secured in a halter (taken, as it appeared, 
 from his steed), by which he was fastened to a large bough 
 immediately above his head, with nothing betwixt him and 
 death, save the horse on which he sat — a young and terri- 
 fied beast, at whose slightest start or motion he must have 
 swung off and perished, while he possessed no means of 
 restraining the animal whatever, except such as lay in 
 strength of leg and virtue of voice. 
 
 In this terrible situation it was plain he had remained 
 for a considerable period, his clothes and hair (for his hat 
 had fallen to the ground) being saturated with rainj while 
 
84 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 his face, purple with blood, his eyes swollen and protruding 
 from their orbits with a most ghastly look of agony and 
 fear, showed how often the uneasiness of his horse, round 
 whose body his legs were wrapped with the convulsive en- 
 ergy of despair, had brought him to the very verge of 
 strangulation. 
 
 The yells of mortal terror, for such they had been, with 
 which he had so long filled the forest, were changed to 
 shrieks of rapture, as soon as he beheld help approach in 
 the person of the astonished soldier. 
 
 "Praised be the Etarnal !" he roared, "cut me loose, 
 strannger! — Praised be the Etarnal, and this here dumb 
 beast ! — Cut me loose, strannger, for the love of God !" 
 
 Such was Eoland's intention; for which purpose he had 
 already clapped his hand to his sabre, to employ it in a 
 service more humane than any it had previously known; 
 when, unfortunately, the voice of the fellow did what his 
 distorted countenance had failed to do, and revealed to 
 Eoland's indignant eyes, the author of all his present diffi- 
 culties, the thief of the pinfold, the robber of Brown Briar- 
 eus, — in a word, the redouhtable Captain Ealph Stack- 
 pole. 
 
 In a moment Poland understood the mystery which he 
 had been before too excited to inquire into. He remem- 
 bered the hints of Bruce, and he had learned enough of 
 border customs and principles to perceive that the justice 
 of the woods had at last overtaken the horse-thief. The 
 pursuing party captured him — taken him in the very man- 
 ner, while still in possession of the "two-year-old pony," 
 and at once adjudged him to the penalty prescribed by the 
 border code — tied his arms, noosed him with the halter of 
 the stolen horse, and left him to swing, as soon as the ani- 
 mal should be tired of supporting him. 
 
 There was a kind of dreadful poetical justice in thus 
 making the stolen horse the thief's executioner : it gave the 
 animal himself an opportunity to wreak vengeance for all 
 wrongs received, and at the same time allowed his captor 
 the rare privilege of galloping on his back into eternity. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 85 
 
 Such was the mode of settling such offences against the 
 peace and dignity of the settlements ; such was the way in 
 which Stackpole had been reduced to his unenviable situa- 
 tion ; and that all passers-by might take note that the exe- 
 cution had not been done without authority, there was 
 painted upon the smooth white bark of the tree, in large 
 black letters, traced by a finger well charged with moistened 
 gunpowder, the ominous name — Judge Lynch, the Ehada- 
 manthus of the forest, whose decisions are yet respected in 
 the land, and whose authority sometimes bids fair to super- 
 sede that of all erring human tribunals. 
 
 Thus tied up, his rifle, knife, and ammunition laid under 
 a tree hard by, that he might have the satisfaction, if satis- 
 faction it could be, of knowing they were in safety, the 
 executioners had left him to his fate, and ridden away long 
 since, to attend to other important affairs of the colony. 
 
 The moment that Eoland understood in whose service he 
 was drawing his sword, a change came over the spirit of 
 his thoughts and feelings, and he returned it very com- 
 posedly to his sheath — much to the satisfaction of the 
 negro. Emperor, who, recognizing the unfortunate Ealph 
 at the same instant, cried aloud, " 'Top, massa ! 't ar Cap- 
 tain Stackpole, what stole Brovm Briery! Beckon I'll 
 touch the pony on the rib, hah? Hanging too good for 
 him, white niggah t'ief, hah !" 
 
 With that the incensed negro made as if he would have 
 driven the pony from under the luckless Ealph, but was 
 prevented by his master, who, taking a second survey of 
 the spectacle, motioned to the horror-struck females to re- 
 tire, and prepared himself to follow them. 
 
 "'Tarnal death to you, captain! you won't leave me?" 
 cried Ealph, in terror. "Honor bright! Help him that 
 need's help — ^that's the rule for a Christian !" 
 
 "Villain !" said Eoland, sternly, "I have no help to give 
 you. You are strung up according to the laws of the settle- 
 ment with which I have no desire to interfere. I am the 
 last man you should ask for pity." 
 
 "I don't ax your pity, 'tarnal death to me — I ax your 
 
86 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 'help!" roared Ealph. "Cut me loose is the word, and then 
 swar at me atter ! I stole your boss thar : — well, whar's 
 the harm ? Didn't he fling me, and kick me, and bite me 
 into the bargain, the cursed savage ? and arn't you got him 
 ag'n as good as ever? And besides, didn't that etarnal 
 old Bruce fob me off with a beast good for nothing, and 
 talk big to me besides? and warn't that all fa'r provoca- 
 tion? And didn't you yourself sw'ar ag'n shaking paws 
 with me, and treat me as if I war no gentleman ? 'Tarnal 
 death to me, cut me loose, or I'll haunt you when I'm a 
 ghost, I will, 'tarnal death to me !" 
 
 "Cut him down, Eoland, for heaven's sake !" said Edith, 
 whom the surprise and terror of the spectacle at first ren- 
 dered speechless; "you surely — no, Eoland, you surely 
 can't mean to leave him to perish?" 
 
 "Upon my soul," said the soldier, — and we are sorry to 
 record a speech representing him in a light so unamiable, — 
 "I don't see what right I have to release him ; and I really 
 have not the least inclination to do so. The rascal is the 
 cause of all our difficulties; and, if evil should happen to 
 us, he will be the cause of that too. But for him, we 
 should be now safe with our party. And besides, as I said 
 before, he is hanged according to Kentuckian law; a very 
 good law as far as it regards horse-thieves, for whom hang- 
 ing is too light a punishment." 
 
 "Nevertheless, release him, — save the poor wretch's life," 
 reiterated Edith, to whom Stackpole, perceiving in her his 
 only friend, now addressed the most piteous cries and sup- 
 plications. "The law is murderous, its makers and execu- 
 tioners barbarians. Save him, Eoland, I charge you, I 
 entreat you !" 
 
 "He owes his life to your intercession," said the soldier ; 
 and drawing his sabre again, but with no apparent good- 
 will, he divided the halter by which Ealph was suspended, 
 and the wretch was free. 
 
 "Cut the tug, the buffalo-tug!" shouted the culprit, 
 thrusting his arms as far from his back as he could, and 
 displaying the thong of bison-skin, which his struggles hai 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. 8'i' 
 
 almost buried in his flesh. A single touch of the steel, 
 rewarded by such a yell of transport as was never before 
 heard in those savage retreats, sufficed to sever the bond; 
 and Stackpole, leaping on the earth, began to testify his 
 joy in modes as novel as they were frantic. 
 
 His first act was to fling his arms round the neck of his 
 steed, which he hugged and kissed with the most rapturous 
 affection, doubtless in requital of the docility it had shown 
 when docility was so necessary to its rider's life; his sec- 
 ond, to leap half a dozen times into the air, feeling his 
 , neck all the time, and uttering the most singular and 
 vociferous cries, as if to make double trial of the condition 
 of his windpipe ; his third, to bawl aloud, directing the im- 
 portant question to the soldier: "How many days has it 
 been since they hanged me ? War it to-day, or yesterday, 
 or the day before ; or war it a whole year ago ? for may I 
 be next hung to the horn of a buffalo, instead of the limb 
 of a beech-tree, if I didn't feel as if I had been squeaking 
 thar ever since the beginning of creation ! Cock-a-doodle- 
 doo ! him that arn't born to be hanged won't be hanged, no- 
 how!" 
 
 Then running to Edith, who sat watching his proceed- 
 ings with silent amazement, he flung himself on his knees, 
 seized the hem of her riding-habit, which he kissed with 
 the fervor of an adorer, exclaiming, with a vehement sin- 
 cerity that made the whole action still more strangely ludi- 
 crous, "Oh ! you jpleadiferous creatur' ! you arpjgfilif erous 
 anngel! here am I, Ealph Stackpole the Screamer, that 
 can whip all Kentucky, white, black, mixed, and Injun; 
 and I'm the man to go with you to the ends of the 'arth, to 
 fight, die, work, beg, and steal bosses for you; I am, and 
 you may make a little dog of me ; you may, or a niggur, or 
 a boss, or a door-post, or a back-log, or a dinner, — ^'tarnal 
 death to me but you may eat me ! I'm the man to feel a 
 favor, partickelarly when it comes to helping me out of a 
 halter; and so jist say the word who I shall lick, to begin 
 on; for I'm your slave jist as much as that niggur, to go 
 
88 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 with you, as I said afore, to the ends of the 'arth, and tte 
 length of Kentucky over !" 
 
 "Away with you, you scoundrel and Jackanapes," said 
 Eoland, for to this ardent expression of gratitude Edith 
 was herself too much frightened to reply. 
 
 "Strannger!" cried the ofEended horse-thief, "you cut 
 the tug, and you cut the halter; and so, though you did it 
 only on hard axing, I'd take as many hard words of you as 
 you can pick of a dictionary, — I will, 'tarnal death to me. 
 But as for madam thar, the anngel, she saved my life, and 
 I go my death in her sarvice ; and now's the time to show 
 sarvice, for thar's danger abroad in the forest." 
 
 "Danger!" echoed Eoland, his anxiety banishing the 
 disgust with which he was so much inclined to regard the 
 worthy horse-thief; "what makes you say that?" 
 
 "Strannger," replied Ealph, with a lengthened visage, 
 and a gravity somewhat surprising for him; "I seed the 
 Jibbenainosay ! 'tarnal death to me, but I seed him as plain 
 as ever I seed old Salt ; I war a-hanging thar, and squeak- 
 ing and cussing, and talking soft nonsense to the pony, to 
 keep him out of tantrums, when what should I see but 
 a great crittur come tramping through the forest, right 
 off yander by the fallen oak, with a big b'ar before 
 him " 
 
 "Pish," said the soldier; "what has this to do with dan- 
 ger?" 
 
 "Beca'se and beca'se," said Ealph, "when you see the 
 Jibbenainosay, thar's always abbregynes* in the cover. I 
 never seed the crittur before, but I reckon it war he, for 
 thar's nothing like him in natur'. And so I'm for cutting 
 out of the forest Jist on the track of a streak of lightning — 
 now h'yar, now thar, but on a full run without stopping. 
 And so, if anngeliferous madam is willing, thump me 
 round the 'arth with a crab-apple, if I don't holp her out of 
 the bushes, and do all her fighting into the bargain, — I 
 will, 'tarnal death to me !" 
 
 *Ahhregynes — Aborigines. 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 89 
 
 "You may go about your business," said Eoland, with 
 as much sternness as contempt. "We will have none of 
 your base company." 
 
 "Whoop ! whoo, whoo, whoo ! don't rifle* me, for I'm 
 danngerous!" yelled the demi-barbarian, "springing on his 
 stolen horse, and riding up to Edith: "Say the word,marm," 
 he cried ; "for I'll fight for you, or run for you, take scalp 
 or cut stick, shake fist or show leg, any thing in reason or 
 out of reason. Strannger thar's as brash f as a new hound 
 in a b'ar fight, or a young hoss in a corn-field, and no safe 
 friend in a forest. Say the word, marm, — or if you think ^ 
 it arn't manners to speak to a strannger, jist shake your 
 little finger, and I'll follow like a dog, and do you dog's 
 sarvice. Or if you don't like me, say the word, or shake 
 t'other finger, and 'tarnal death to me, but I'll be off like 
 an elk of the prairies !" 
 
 "You may go," said Edith, not at all solicitous to retain 
 a follower of Mr. Stackpole's character and conversation; 
 "we have no occasion for your assistance." 
 
 "Fawwell!" said Kalph; and turning, and giving his 
 pony a thump with his fist, and a kick with each heel, and 
 uttering a shrill whoop, he darted away through the forest, 
 and was soon out of sight. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Something doth approach! 
 What cursed foot wanders this way to-night? 
 
 — Borneo and Juliet. 
 
 The course of Stackpole was through the woods, in a 
 direction immediately opposite to that which Roland had 
 ridden to his assistance. 
 
 "He is going to the Lower Ford," said Telie, anxiously. 
 
 To rifle — to ruffle. 
 t Brash — rash, headstrong, over-valiant. 
 
90 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "It is not too late for us to follow him. If there are In- 
 dians in the wood, it is the only way to escape them !" 
 
 "And why should we believe there are Indians in the 
 wood?" demanded Eoland, "because that half -mad rogue, 
 made still madder by his terrors, saw something which his 
 fancy converted into the imaginary Nick of the Woods? 
 You must give me a better reason than that, my good Telle, 
 if you would have me desert the road. I have no faith in 
 your Jibbenainosays." 
 
 But a better reason than her disinclination to travel it, 
 and her fears lest, if Indians were abroad, they would be 
 found lying in ambush at the upper and more frequented 
 pass of the river, the girl had none to give; and, in conse- 
 quence, Eoland (though secretly wondering at her pertinac- 
 ity, and still connecting it in thought with his oft-remem- 
 bered dream), expressing some impatience at the delay they 
 had already experienced, led the way back to the buffalo- 
 road, resolved to prosecute it with vigor. But fate had pre- 
 pared for him, other and more serious obstructions. 
 
 He had scarcely regained the path before he became sen- 
 sible, from the tracks freshly printed in the damp earth, 
 that a horseman, coming from the very river towards which 
 he was bending his way, had passed by whilst he was en- 
 gaged in the wood liberating the horse-thief. This was 
 a circumstance that both pleased and annoyed him. It 
 was so far agreeable, as it seemed to offer the best proof 
 that the road was open, with none of those dreadful savages 
 about it who had so long haunted the brain of Telle Doe. 
 
 But what chiefly concerned the young soldier was the 
 knowledge that he had lost an opportunity of inquiring 
 after his friends, and ascertaining whether they had really 
 pitched their camp on the banks of the river; a circum- 
 stance which he now rather hoped than dared to be cer- 
 tain of, the tempest not seeming to have been so violent in 
 that quarter, as, of necessity, to bring the company to a 
 halt. If they had not encamped in the expected place, but 
 on the contrary, had continued their course to the ap- 
 pointed station, he saw nothing before him but the gloomy 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 91 
 
 prospect of concluding his journey over an unknown road, 
 after nightfall, or returning to the station he had left, also 
 by night; for much time had been lost by the various de- 
 lays, and the day was now declining fast. 
 
 These considerations threw a damp over his spirits, but 
 taught him the necessity of activity; and he was accord- 
 ingly urging his little party forward with such speed as he 
 could, when there was suddenly heard at a distance on the 
 rear the sound of fire-arms, as if five or six pieces were dis- 
 charged together, followed by cries not less wild and alarm- 
 ing than those uttered by the despairing thief. 
 
 These bringing the party to a stand, the quick ears of the 
 soldier detected the rattling of hoofs on the road behind, 
 and presently there came rushing towards them, with furi- 
 ous speed, a solitary horseman, his head bare, his locks 
 streaming in the wind, and his whole appearance betray- 
 ing the extremity of confusion and terror; which was the 
 more remarkable, as he was well mounted, and armed with 
 the usual rifle, knife, and hatchet of the back-woodsman. 
 He looked as if flying from pursuing foes, his eyes being 
 cast backwards, and that so eagerly, that he failed to notice 
 the party of wondering strangers drawn up before him on 
 the road, until saluted by a halloo from Eoland ; at which 
 he checked his steed, looking for an instant ten times more 
 confounded and frightened than before. 
 
 "You tarnation critturs !" he at last bawled, with the ac- 
 cents of one driven to desperation, "if there a'n't no dodg- 
 ing you, then there a'n't. Here's for you, you everlasting 
 varmints — due you darndest!" 
 
 With that he clubbed his rifle, and advanced towards the 
 party in what seemed a paroxysm of insane fury, brandish- 
 ing the weapon, and rolling his eyes with a ferocity that 
 could have only arisen from his being in that happy frame 
 of mind which is properly termed "frighted out of fear." 
 
 "How, you villain !" said Eoland in amazement, "do you 
 take us for wild Indians?" 
 
 "What, by the holy hokey, and a'n't you?" cried the 
 stranger, his rage giving way to the most liyely transports, 
 
93 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "Christian men !" he exclaimed in admiration, "and one of 
 'em a niggur, and two of 'em wimming ! oh, hokey ! You're 
 Captain Forrester, and I've heerd on you ! Thought there 
 was nothing in the wood but Injuns, blast their ugly pic- 
 turs! and blast him, Sy Jones as was, that brought me 
 among 'em ! And now I'm talking of 'em, capting, don't 
 stop to ax questions, but run — cut and run, capting, for 
 there's an everlasting sight of 'em behind me ! — six of 'em, 
 capting, or my name a'n't Pardon Dodge — six of 'em — all 
 except one, and him I shot, the blasted crittur ! for, you see, 
 they followed me behind, and cut me off before, and there 
 was no dodging 'em — (Dodge's my name, and dodgings my 
 natur'), — without gitting lost in the woods; and it was 
 either losing myself or my scalp; and so that riz my 
 Ebenezer, and I banged the first of 'em all to smash — ^if I 
 didn't, then it a'n't no matter !" 
 
 "What, in heaven's name," said Eoland, overcome by the 
 man's volubility and alarm together, "what means all this ? 
 Are there Indians behind us ?" 
 
 "Five of 'em, and the dead feller — shocking long-legged 
 crittur he was — jumped out of a bush, and seized me by 
 the bridle — ^hokey ! how he skeared me ! — Gun went off 
 of her own accord, and shot him into bits as small as four- 
 pence ha'pennies. Then there was a squeaking and squall- 
 ing, and the hull of 'em let fly at me; and then I cut on 
 the back track, and they took and took after, and, I cal- 
 culate, if we wait here a quarter of a minute longer they 
 will be on us just like devils and roaring lions. But where 
 shall we run? You can't git us a hint how to make way 
 through the woods? Shocking bad woods to be lost in! 
 Bad place here for talking, capting — right 'twixt two fires 
 — six Injuns behind (and one of 'em dead), and an al- 
 mighty passel before — the ford's full of 'em!" 
 
 "What!" said Eoland, "did you pass the ford? and is 
 not Colonel Johnson, with his emigrants, there?" 
 
 "Not a man on 'em — saw 'em streaking through the mud, 
 half way to Jackson's. Everlasting lying critturs, them 
 emigrants ! told me there was no Injuns on the road, when 
 
nick; of the woods. 93 
 
 what should I do but see a hull grist on •'em dodging among 
 the bushes at the river, to surround me, the tarnation crit- 
 turs. But I kinder had the start on 'em, and I whipped, 
 and I cut, and I run, and I dodged. And so, says I, 'I've 
 beat you, you tarnation, scalping varmints !' when up jumps 
 that long-legged feller, and the five behind him; and, 
 blast 'em, that riz my corruption. And I — — •" 
 
 "In a word," said Eoland, impatiently, and with a stem 
 accent, assumed perhaps to re-assure his kinswoman, whom 
 the alarming communications of the stranger, uttered in an 
 agony of terror and haste, filled with an agitation which 
 she could not conceal, "you have seen Indians, or you say 
 you have. If you tell the truth, there is no time left for 
 deliberations; if a falsehood " 
 
 "Why should we wait upon the road to question and won- 
 der ?" said Telle Doe, with a boldness and firmness that at 
 another moment would have excited surprise ; "why should 
 we wait here, while the Indians may be approaching ? The 
 forest is open, and the Lower Ford is free." 
 
 "If you can yet lead us thither," said Eoland, eagerly, 
 "all is not yet lost. We can neither advance nor return. 
 On, maiden, for the love of heaven !" 
 
 These hasty expressions revealed to Edith the deep and 
 serious light in which her kinsman regarded their present 
 situation, though at first seeking to hide his anxiety under 
 a veil of composure. In fact, there was not an individual 
 present on whom the fatal news of the vicinity of the red- 
 man had produced a more alarming impression than on Eo- 
 land. Young, brave, acquainted with war, and accustomed 
 to scenes of blood and peril, it is not to be supposed that he 
 entertained fear on his own account; but the presence of 
 one whom he loved, and whom he would have rescued from 
 danger any moment, at the sacrifice of his own. life thrice 
 over, was enough to cause, and excuse a temporary faint- 
 ing of spirit, and a desire to fiy the scene of peril, of which, 
 under any other circumstances, he would have been heartily 
 ashamed. The suddenness of the terror — for up to the 
 present moment he had dreamed of no difSculty comprising 
 
94 KICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 danger, or of no danger implying the presence of savages 
 in the forest — ^had somewhat shocked his mind from its 
 propriety, and left him in a manner unfitted to exercise the 
 decision and energy so necessary to the welfare of his feeble 
 and well-nigh helpless followers. The vastness of his em- 
 barrassment, all disclosed at once — his friends and fellow- 
 emigrants now far away ; the few miles which he had to the 
 last hoped separated him from them, converted into 
 leagues ; Indian enemies at hand ; advance and retreat both 
 alike cut off; and night approaching fast, in which, v^ith- 
 out a guide, any attempt to retreat through the wild' forest 
 would be as likely to secure his destruction as deliverance ; 
 these were circumstances that crowded into his mind with 
 benumbing efEect, engrossing his faculties, when the most 
 active use of them was essential to the preservation of his 
 party. 
 
 It was at this moment of weakness and confusion, while 
 uttering what was meant to throw some little discredit over 
 the story of Dodge, to abate the terrors of Edith, that the 
 words of Telle Doe fell on his ears, bringing both aid and 
 hope to his embarrassed spirits. She, at least, was ac- 
 quainted with the woods ; she, at least, could conduct him, 
 if not to the fortified station he had left (and bitterly now 
 did he regret having left it), to the neglected ford of the 
 river, which her former attempts to lead him thither, and 
 the memory of his dream, caused him now to regard as a 
 city of refuge pointed out by destiny itself. 
 
 "You shall have your way at last, fair Telia," he said, 
 with a laugh, but not of merriment. "Fate speaks for 
 you, and whether I will or not, we must to the Lower 
 Ford !" 
 
 "You will never repent it," said the girl, the bright looks 
 which she had worn for the few moments she was permitted 
 to control the motions of the party returning to her visage, 
 and seeming to emanate from a rejoicing spirit — "they will 
 not think of waylaying us at the Lower Ford !" 
 
 With that lb§ darted into the wood, and, followed by tbf 
 
NICK (yp THE WOODS. 95 
 
 others, including the newcomer, Dodge, was soon at a con- 
 siderable distance from the road. 
 
 "Singular," said Roland to Edith, at whose rein he now 
 rode, endeavoring to remove her terrors, which, though she 
 uttered no words, were manifestly overpowering — "singu- 
 lar that the girl should look so glad and fearless, while 
 we are, I believe, all horribly frightened. It is, however, 
 a good omen. When one so timorous as she casts aside 
 fear there is little reason for others to be frightened." 
 
 "I hope — I hope so," murmured Edith. "But — ^but I 
 have had my omens, Eoland, and they were evil ones. I 
 dreamed — You smile at me !" 
 
 "I do," said the soldier, "and not more at your joyless 
 tones, my fair cousin, than at the coincidence of our 
 thoughts. I dreamed (for I also have had my visions) 
 last night that some one came to me and whispered in my 
 ear 'to cross the river at the Lower Eord, the upper being 
 dangerous.' Verily, I shall hereafter treat my dreams 
 with respect. I suppose — I hope, were it only to prove we 
 have a good angel in common, that you dreamed the same 
 thing?" 
 
 "'So — ^it was not that," said Edith, with a sad and anx- 
 ious countenance. 'Tit was a dream that has always been 
 followed by evil. I dreamed — but it will offend you, cou- 
 sin?" 
 
 "What!" said Roland, "a dream? You dreamed, per- 
 haps, that I forgot both wisdom and affection, when, for 
 the sake of this worthless beast, Briareus, I drew you into 
 difficulty and peril?" 
 
 "ISTo, no," said Edith, earnestly, and then added in a low 
 voice, "I dreamed of Richard Braxley !" 
 
 "Curse him!" muttered the youth, with tones of bitter 
 passion, "it is to him we owe all that now afflicts us — 
 poverty and exile, our distresses and difficulties, our fears 
 and our dangers. For a wooer," he added, with a smile of 
 equal bitterness, "methinks he has fallen on but a rough 
 way of proving his regard. But you dreamed of him. 
 Well, what was it? He came to you with the look of a 
 
96 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 beaten dog, fawned at your feet, and displaying that in- 
 fernal will, 'Marry me,' quoth he, 'faith maid, and I will be 
 a greater rascal than before — I will burn this will, and con- 
 sent to enjoy Eoland Forrester's lands and houses in right 
 of my wife, instead of claiming them in trust for an heir 
 no longer in the land of the living.' Cur! — and but for 
 you, Edith, I would have repaid his insolence as it de- 
 served. But you ever intercede for your worst enemies. 
 There is that confounded Stackpole, now ; I vow to heaven, 
 I am sorry I cut the rascal down! But you dreamed of 
 Braxley ! What said the villain ?" 
 
 "He said," replied Edith, who had listened mournfully, 
 but in silence, to the young man's hasty expressions, like 
 one who was too well acquainted with the impetuosity of 
 his temper, to think of opposing him in his angry mo- 
 ments, or perhaps because her spirits were too much sub- 
 dued by her fears to allow her to play the monitress, — -"he 
 said, and frowningly too, that, 'soft words were with him 
 the prelude to hard resolutions, and that where he could 
 not win as the turtle, he could take his prey like a vulture,' 
 or some such words of anger. Now, Roland, I have twice 
 before dreamed of this man, and on each occasion a heavy 
 calamity ensued, and that on the following day. I dreamed 
 of him the night before our uncle died. I dreamed a sec- 
 ond time, and the next day he produced and recorded the 
 will that robbed us of our inheritance. I dreamed of him 
 again last night, and what evil is now hovering over us I 
 know not, but it is foolish of me to say so, yet my fears 
 tell me it will be something dreadful." 
 
 "Your fears, I hope, will deceive you," said Eoland, smil- 
 ing in spite of himself at this little display of weakness on 
 the part of Edith. "I have much confidence in this girl. 
 Telle, though I can scarce tell why. A free road and a 
 round gallop will carry us to our journey's end by nightfall, 
 and, at the worst, we shall have bright starlight to light us 
 on. Be comforted, my cousin; I begin heartily to suspect 
 yon cowardly Dodge, or Dodger, or whatever he calls him- 
 self, has been imposed upon by his fears, and that he has 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. 9'? 
 
 actually seen no Indians at all. The springing up of a 
 bush from under his horse's feet, and the starting away of 
 a dozen frightened rabbits, might easily explain his conceit 
 of the long-legged Indian and his five murderous accom- 
 plices ; and as for the savages seen in ambush at the ford, 
 the shaking of the cane-brake by the breeze, or by some 
 skulking bear, would as readily account for them. The 
 idea of his being allowed to pass a crew of Indians in their 
 lair, without being pursued or even fired on, is quite pre- 
 posterous." 
 
 These ideas, perhaps devised to dispel his kinswoman's 
 fears, were scarce uttered before they appeared highly rea- 
 sonable to the inventor himself; and he straightway rode 
 to Dodge's side, and began to question him more closely 
 than he had before had leisure to do, in relation to those 
 wondrous adventures, the recounting of which had pro- 
 duced so serious a change in the destination of the party. 
 
 All his efforts, however, to obtain satisfactory confirma- 
 tion of his suspicion were unavailing. The man, now in 
 a great measure relieved from his terrors, repeated his story 
 with a thousand details, which convinced Eoland that it 
 was in its chief features correct. That he had actually 
 been attacked or fired upon by some persons Eoland could 
 not doubt, having heard the shots himself. As to the am- 
 bush at the ford, all he could say was, that he had actually 
 seen several Indians, he knew not the number, stealing 
 through the wood in the direction opposite the river, as if 
 on the outlook for some expected party. Captain Forrester's 
 he supposed, of which he had heard among the emigrants ; 
 and that this giving him the advantage of the first dis- 
 covery, he had darted ahead with all his speed, until ar- 
 rested at an unexpected moment by the six warriors, whose 
 guns and voices had been heard by the party. 
 
 Besides communicating all the information which he pos- 
 sessed on these points, he proceeded, without waiting to be 
 asked, to give an account of his own history, and a very 
 lamentable one it was. 
 
 He was from the Down-East country, a representative of 
 
98 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the Bay State, from which he had been seduced by the ar- 
 guments of his old friend Josiah Jones, to go "a-pedlering" 
 with the latter to the new settlements in the West, where 
 the situation of the colonists, so far removed from all mar- 
 kets, promised uncommon advantages to the adventurous 
 trader. These had been in a measure realized on the upper 
 Ohio, but the prospect of superior gains in Kentucky had 
 tempted the two friends to extend their speculations fur- 
 ther ; and in an evil hour they embarked their assorted no- 
 tions and their own bodies in a flat-boat on the Ohio, in 
 the descent of which it was their fortune to be stripped of 
 every thing, after enduring risks without number, and 
 daily attacks from Indians lying in wait on the banks of 
 the river, which misadventures terminated in the capture 
 of their boat, and the death of Josiah, the unlucky pro- 
 jector of the expedition, Pardon himself barely escaping 
 with his life. 
 
 These calamities were the more distasteful to the worthy 
 Dodge, whose inclinations were of no warlike cast, and 
 whose courage never rose to the fighting point, as he freely 
 professed, until goaded into action by sheer desperation. 
 He had "got enough," as he said, "of the everlasting In- 
 juns, and of Kentucky, where there was such a shocking 
 deal of ''em, that a. peaceable trader's scalp was in no more 
 security than a rambling scout's ;" and cursing his bad luck, 
 and the memory of the friend who had cajoled him into 
 rum, diflSculty, and constant danger, his sole desire was 
 now to return to the safer lands of the East, which he ex- 
 pected to effect most advantageously by advancing to some 
 of the Southeastern stations, and throwing himself in the 
 way of the first band of militia, whose tour of duty in the 
 district was completed, and who should be about to return 
 to their native state. He had got enough of the Ohio, as 
 well as of the Indians ; the wilderness-road possessed fewer 
 terrors, and, therefore, appeared to his imagination the 
 more eligible route of escape. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. S9 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 Their way 
 Lies through the perplex'd paths of this drear wood 
 The nodding horror of whose shady brows 
 Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger; 
 And here their tender age might suffer peril. 
 
 — Comus. 
 
 Dodge's story, which was not without its interest to 
 Eoland, though the rapidity of their progress through the 
 woods, and the constant necessity of being on the alert, kept 
 him a somewhat inattentive listener, was brought to an 
 abrupt close by the motions of Telle Doe, who, having 
 guided the party for several miles with great confidence, 
 began at last to hesitate, and betray symptoms of doubt and 
 embarrassment that attracted the soldier's attention. 
 
 There seemed some cause for hesitation; the glades, at 
 first broad and open, through which they had made their 
 way, were becoming smaller, and more frequently inter- 
 rupted by copses; the wood grew denser and darker; the 
 surface of the ground became broken by rugged ascents 
 and swampy hollows, the one encumbered by stones and 
 mouldering trunks of trees, the other converted by the 
 rains into lakes and pools, through which it was difficult to 
 find a path; whilst the constant turning and winding to 
 right and left to avoid such obstacles, made it a still greater 
 task to preserve the line of direction which Telle had inti- 
 mated was a proper one to pursue. 
 
 "Was it possible," he asked himself, "the girl could be 
 at fault ?" The answer to this question, when addressed to 
 Telie herself, confirmed his fears. She was perplexed, she 
 was frightened; she had been long expecting to strike the 
 neglected road, with which she professed to be so well ac- 
 quainted, and sure she was they had ridden far enough to 
 find it. But the hills and swamps had confused her; she 
 was afraid to proceed^ — she knew not where she was. 
 
100 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 This announcement filled the young soldier's mind with 
 alarm; for upon Telie's knowledge of the woods he had 
 placed his best reliance, conscious that his own experience 
 in such matters was as little to be depended on as that of 
 any of his companions. Yet it was necessary he should now 
 assume the lead himself, and do his best to rescue the 
 party from it;; difficulties ; and this, after a little reflection, 
 he thought he could scarce fail of effecting. 
 
 The portion of the forest through which he was rambling 
 was a kind of triangle> marked by the two roads on the 
 east, with its base bounded by the long-looked-for river; 
 and one of these boundaries he must strike, proceed in 
 whatever direction he would. If he persevered in the 
 course he had followed so long, he must of necessity find 
 himself, sooner or later, in the path which Telle had failed 
 to discover, and failed, as he supposed, in consequence of 
 wandering away to the west, so as to keep it constantly on 
 the right hand instead of in front. To recover it, then, 
 all that was necessary to be done was to direct his course 
 to the right, and to proceed until the road was found. 
 
 The reasoning was just, and the probability was that a 
 few moments would find the party on the recovered path. 
 But a half-hour passed by, and the travellers, all anxious 
 and doubting, and filled with gloom, were yet stumbling 
 in the forest, winding amid labyrinths of bog and brake, 
 hill and hollow, that every moment became wilder and 
 more perplexing. 
 
 To add to their alarm, it was manifest that the day was 
 fast approaching its close. The sun had set, or was so low 
 in the heavens that not a single ray could be seen trembling 
 on the tallest tree ; and thus was lost the only means of de- 
 ciding towards what quarter of the compass they were di- 
 recting their steps. The mosses on the trees were appealed 
 to in vain, — as they will be by all who expect to find them 
 pointing, like the mariner's needle, to the pole. They in- 
 dicate the quarter from which blow the prevailing humid 
 winds of any region of country; but in the moist and 
 dense forests of the interior, they are often equally luxu- 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 101 
 
 riant on every side of the tree. The varying shape and 
 robustness of boughs are thought to offer a better means 
 of finding the points of the compass; but none but In- 
 dians and hunters grown gray in the woods, can profit by 
 their occult lessons. The attempts of Roland to draw in- 
 struction from them served only to complete his confusion ; 
 • and, by and by, giving over all hope of succeeding through 
 any exercise of skill or prudence, he left the matter to for- 
 tune and his good horse, riding, in the obstinacy of de- 
 spair, whithersoever the weary animal chose to bear him, 
 without knowing whether it might be afar from danger, 
 or backwards into the vicinity of the very enemies whom 
 he had labored so long to avoid. 
 
 As he advanced in this manner, he was once or twice in- 
 clined to suspect that he was actually retracing his steps, 
 and approaching the path by which he had entered the 
 depths of the wood ; and on one occasion he was almost as,-- 
 sured that such was the fact, by the peculiar appearance of 
 a brambly thicket, containing many dead trees, which he 
 thought he had noticed while following in confidence after 
 the leading of Telle Doe. 
 
 A nearer approach to the place convinced him of his 
 error, but awoke a new hope in his mind, by showing him 
 that he was drawing nigh the haunts of men. The blazes 
 of the axe were seen on the trees, running away in lines, 
 as if marked by the hands of the surveyor; those trees 
 that were dead, he observed, had been destroyed by gird- 
 ling ; and on the edge of the tangle brake where they were 
 most abundant, he noticed several stalks of maize, the relics 
 of some former harvest, the copse itself having once been, 
 as he supposed, a corn-field. 
 
 "It is only a tomahawk-improvement," said Telle Doe, 
 shaking her head, as he turned towards her a look of joy- 
 ous inquiry; and she pointed towards what seemed to have 
 been once a cabin of legs of the smallest size, — too small 
 indeed for habitation, but which, more than half fallen 
 down, was rotting away, half hidden under the weeds and 
 brambles that grew, and seemed to have grown for years. 
 
102 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 within its little area: "there are many of them in the 
 woods that were never settled." 
 
 Eoland did not require to be informed that a "tomahawk- 
 improvement," as it was often called in those days, meant 
 nothing more than the box of logs in form of a cabin, 
 which the hunter or land speculator could build with his 
 hatchet in a few hours, a few girdled trees, a dozen or more 
 grains of com from his pouch thrust into the soil, with 
 perhaps a few poles laid along the earth to indicate an en- 
 closed field; and that such improvements, as they gave 
 pre-emption rights to the maker, were often established by 
 adventurers to secure a claim in the event of their not light- 
 ing on lands more to their liking. 
 
 Years had evidently passed by since the maker of this 
 neglected improvement had visited his territory, and Eo- 
 land no longer hoped to discover such signs about it as 
 might enable him to recover his lost way. His spirits sunk 
 as rapidly as they had risen, and he was preparing to make 
 one more effort to escape from the forest while the day- 
 light yet lasted, or to find some stronghold in which to pass 
 the night, when his attention was drawn to Telle Doe, who 
 had ridden a little in advance, eagerly scanning the trees 
 and soil around, in the hope that some .ancient mark or 
 footstep might point out a mode of escape. 
 
 As she thus looked about her, moving slowly in advance, 
 her pony on a sudden began to snort and prance, and be- 
 tray other indications of terror, and Telle herself was seen 
 to become agitated and alarmed, retreating back upon the 
 party, but keeping her eyes wildly rolling from bush to 
 bush, as if in instant expectation of seeing an enemy. 
 
 "What's the matter ?" cried Eoland, riding to her assist- 
 ance. "Are we in enchanted land, that our horses must be 
 frightened as well as ourselves?" 
 
 "He smells the war-paint," said Telle, with a trembling 
 voice ; — "there are Indians near us !" 
 
 "Nonsense !" said Eoland, looking around, and seeing, 
 with the exception of the copse just passed, nothing but an 
 open forest, without shelter or harbor for an ambushed foe. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 103 
 
 But at that moment Edith caught him by the arm, and 
 turned upon him a countenance more wan with fear than 
 she had exhibited upon first hearing the cries of Stack- 
 pole. It expressed, indeed, more than alarm — it was the 
 highest degree of terror, and the feeling was so overpower- 
 ing, that her lips, though moving as in the act of speech, 
 gave forth no sound whatever. But what her lips refused 
 to tell, her finger, though shaking in the ague that con- 
 vulsed every fibre of her frame, pointed out, and Eoland, 
 following it with his eyes, beheld the object that had ex- 
 cited so much emotion. 
 
 He started himself, as his gaze fell upon a naked In- 
 dian stretched under a tree hard by, and sheltered from 
 view only by a dead bough lately fallen from its trunk, yet 
 lying so still and motionless that he might easily have been 
 passed by without observation in the growing dusk and 
 twilight of the woods, had it not been for the instinctive 
 terrors of the pony, which, like other horses, had, and in- 
 deed, all other domestic beasts in the settlements, often thus 
 pointed out to their masters the presence of an enemy. 
 
 The rifle of the soldier was in an instant cocked and at his 
 shoulder, while the pedler and Emperor, as it happened. 
 Were too much discomposed at the spectacle to make any 
 such show of battle. They gazed blankly upon the leader, 
 whose piece, settling down into an aim that must have 
 been fatal, suddenly wavered, and then to their surprise, 
 was withdrawn. 
 
 "The slayer has been here before us," he exclaimed ; "the 
 man is dead and scalped already !" 
 
 With these words he advanced to the tree, and the others 
 following, they beheld with horror the body of a savage of 
 vast and noble proportions, lying on its face across the 
 roots of the tree, and glued, it might almost be said, to the 
 earth by a mass of coagulated blood, that had issued from 
 the scalped and axe-cloven skull. The fragments of a rifle, 
 shattered, as it seemed, by a violent blow against the tree 
 under which it lay, were scattered at his side, with a broken 
 powder'tiorn, a splintered knile; the belv§ o| a tomahawk, 
 
104 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 and otlier equipments of a warrior, all in like manner 
 shivered to pieces by the unknown assassin. The warrior 
 seemed to have perished only after a fearful struggle; the 
 earth was torn where he lay, and his hands, yet grasping 
 the soil, were dyed a double red in the blood of his antago- 
 nist, or perhaps in his own. 
 
 While Eoland gazed upon the spectacle, amazed, and 
 wondering how the wretched being had met his death, 
 which must have been very recently, and whilst his party 
 was within the sound of a rifle-shot, he observed a shudder 
 to creep over the apparently lifeless frame ; the fingers re- 
 laxed their grasp of the earth, and then clutched it again 
 with violence; a broken, strangling rattle came from the 
 throat ; and a spasm of convulsion seizing upon every limb, 
 it was suddenly raised a little upon one arm, so as to dis- 
 play the countenance, covered with blood, the eyes retro- 
 verted into their orbits, and glaring with the slightless 
 whites. It was a horrible spectacle, — the last convulsion 
 of many that had shaken the wretched and insensible, yet 
 still suffering clay, since it had received its death-stroke. 
 
 The spasm was the last, and but momentary ; yet it suf- 
 ficed to raise the body of the mangled barbarian so far, that 
 when the pang that excited it suddenly ceased, and with it 
 the life of the sufferer, the body rolled over on the back, 
 and thus lay, exposing to the eyes of the lookers-on two 
 gashes wide and gory on the breast, traced by a sharp knife 
 and a powerful hand, and, as it seemed, in the mere wan- 
 tonness of a malice and lust of blood, which even death 
 could not satisfy. The sight of these gashes answered the 
 question Roland had asked of his own imagination; they 
 were in the form of a cross; and as the legend, so long 
 derided, of the forest-fiend recurred to his memory, he 
 responded, almost with a feeling of superstitious awe, to 
 the trembling cry of Telle Doe : — 
 
 "It is the Jibbenainosay !" she exclaimed, staring upon 
 the corse with mingled horror and wonder; "Nick of the 
 Woods is up again in the forest!" 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 105 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 Yet have they many baits and guileful spells 
 To inveigle and invite the unwary sense 
 Of them that pass unweeting by the way. 
 
 — Gomus. 
 
 While heaven lends us grace. 
 
 Let us fly this cursed place; 
 
 Not a waste or needless sound. 
 
 Till we come to holier ground. 
 
 I shall be your faithful guide 
 
 Through this gloomy covert wide. 
 
 — Oomus. 
 
 There was little really superstitious m the temper of 
 Captain Forrester, and however his mind might be at first 
 stirred by the discovery of a victim of the redoubted fiend 
 so devoutly believed in by his host of the preceding even- 
 ing, it is certain that his credulity was not so much excited 
 as his surprise. He sprang from his horse and examined 
 the body, Ijut looked in vain for the mark of the bullet that 
 had robbed it of life. No gun-shot wound, at least none of 
 importance, appeared in any part. There was, indeed, a 
 bullet-hole in the left shoulder, and, as it seemed, very re- 
 cently inflicted ; but it was bound up with leaves and vul- 
 nerary herbs, in the usual Indian way, showing that it 
 must have been received at some period anterior to the at- 
 tack which had robbed the warrior of life. The gashes 
 across the ribs were the only other wounds on the body; 
 that on the head, made by a hatchet, was evidently the one 
 that had caused the warrior's death. 
 
 If this circumstance abated the wonder the soldier had 
 first felt on the score of a man being killed at so short a. 
 distance from his own party, without any one hearing the 
 shot, he was still more at a loss to know how one of the dead 
 man's race, proverbial for wariness and vigilance, should 
 have been approached by any merely human enemy so nigh 
 as to render fire-arms xmnecessary to his destruction. But 
 that a human enemy had effected the slaughter, inexplicable 
 
106 NICK or THE WOODS. 
 
 as it seemedj he had no doubt ; and he began straightway to 
 search among the leaves strewn over the ground for the 
 marks of his footsteps; not questioning that, if he could 
 find and follow them for a little distance, he should dis- 
 cover the author of the deed, and, which was of more mo- 
 ment to himself, a friend and guide to conduct his party 
 from the forest. 
 
 His search was, however, fruitless; for, whether it was 
 that the shadows of evening lay too dark on the ground, or 
 that eyes more accustomed than his own to such duties were 
 required to detect a trail among dried forest leaves, it was 
 certain that he failed to discover a single footstep, or other 
 vestige of the slayer. T^or were Pardon Dodge and Em- 
 peror, whom he summoned to his assistance, a whit more 
 successful; a circumstance, however, that rather proved 
 their inexperience than the supernatural character of the 
 Jibbenainosay, whose footprints, as it appeared, were not 
 more difficult to find than those of the dead Indian, for 
 which they sought equally in vain. 
 
 While they were thus fruitlessly engaged, an exclamation 
 from Telle Doe drew their attention to a spectacle, sud- 
 denly observed, which to her awe-struck eyes presented the 
 appearance of the very being, so truculent yet supernatural, 
 whose traces, it seemed, were to be discovered only on the 
 breasts of his lifeless victims ; and Eoland, looking up, be- 
 held with surprise, perhaps even for a moment with the 
 stronger feelings of awe, a figure stalking through the 
 woods at a distance, looking as tall and gigantic in the 
 growing twilight, as the airy demon of the Brocken, or the 
 equally colossal spectress seen on the wild summits of the 
 Peruvian Andes. 
 
 Distance and the darkness together rendered the vision 
 indistinct ; but Eoland could see that the form was human, 
 that it moved onwards with rapid strides, and with its 
 countenance bent upon the earth, or upon another moving 
 object, dusky and of lesser size, that rolled before it, guid- 
 ing the way, like the bowl of the dervise in the Arabian 
 story; and, finally, that it held in its bauds, as if on the 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 101' 
 
 watch for an enemy, an implement wondrously like the 
 firelock of a human fighting man. 
 
 At first it appeared as if the figure was approaching the 
 party, and that in a direct line ; but presently Roland per- 
 ceived it was gradually bending its course away to the left, 
 its eyes still so closely fixed on its dusky guide, — ;the very 
 bear, as Eoland supposed, which was said so often to direct 
 the steps of the Jibbenainosay, — that it seemed as if about 
 to pass the party entirely without observation. 
 
 But this it was no part of the young soldier's resolution 
 to permit; and, accordingly, he sprang upon his horse, de- 
 terminated to ride forwards and bring the apparition to a 
 stand, while it was yet at a distance. 
 
 "Man or devil, Jibbenainosay or rambling settler," he 
 cried, "it is, at least, no Indian, and therefore no enemy. 
 Holla, friend!" he exclaimed aloud, and dashed forward, 
 followed, though not without hesitation, by all his com- 
 panions. 
 
 At the sound of his voice the spectre started and looked 
 up; and t"hen, without betraying either surprise or a dis- 
 position to beat a mysterious retreat, advanced to meet the 
 soldier, walking rapidly, and waving its hand all the while 
 with an impatient gesture, as if commanding the party to 
 halt ; a command which was immediately obeyed by Roland 
 and all. 
 
 And now it was that, as it drew nigh, its stature appeared 
 to grow less and less colossal, and the wild lineaments with 
 which fancy had invested it faded from sight, leaving the 
 phantom a mere man, of tall frame indeed, but without a 
 single characteristic of dress or person to delight the soul 
 of wonder. The black bear dwindled into a little dog, the 
 meekest and most insignificant of his tribe, being nothing 
 less or more, in fact, than the identical Peter, which had 
 fared so roughly in the hands, or rather under the feet, 
 of Roaring Ralph Stackpole, at the station, the day before ; 
 while the human spectre, the supposed fiend of the woods, 
 sinking from its dignity in equal proportion of abasement, 
 suddenly presented to Roland's eyes the person of Peter's 
 
108 NICK or THE WOODS. 
 
 master, the humble, peaceful, harmless Nathan Slaughter. 
 
 The transformation was so great and unexpected (for 
 even Koland looked to find in the wanderer, if not a de- 
 stroying angel, at least some formidable champion of the 
 forest), that he could scarce forbear a laugh as Nathan came 
 stalking up, followed by little Peter, who stole to the rear 
 as soon as strangers were perceived, as if to avoid the kicks 
 and cuffs which his experience had doubtless taught him 
 were to be expected on all such occasions. The young 
 man felt the more inclined to indulge his mirth, as the 
 character which Bruce had given him of Wandering Na- 
 than, as one perfectly acquainted with the woods, convinced 
 him that he could not have fallen upon a better person to 
 extricate him from his dangerous dilemma, and thus re- 
 lieved his breast of a mountain of anxiety and distress. 
 
 But the laugh with which he greeted his approach found 
 no response from Nathan himself, who, having looked with 
 amazement upon Edith and Telle, as if marvelling what 
 madness had brought females at that hour into that wild 
 desert, turned at last to the soldier, demanding, with in- 
 auspicious gravity: 
 
 "Friend ! does thee think thee is in thee own parlor with 
 thee women at home, that thee shouts so loud, and laughs 
 so merrily? or does thee know thee is in a wild Kentucky 
 forest, with murdering Injuns all around thee?" 
 
 "I trust not," said Eoland, much more seriously ; 'TDut, in 
 truth, we all took you for Nick of the Woods, the redoubt- 
 able Nick himself; and you must allow, that our terrors 
 were ridiculous enough, when they could convert a peaceful 
 man like you into such a blood-thirsty creature. That 
 there are Indians in the wood I can well believe, having 
 the evidence of Dodge, here, who professes to have seen six, 
 and killed one, and of my own eyes into the bargain. Yon- 
 der lies one, dead, at this moment, under the walnut-tree, 
 killed by some unknown hand, — Telle Doe says by Nick of 
 the Woods himself " 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, interrupting the young man 
 without ceremony, "thee had better think of living Injuns 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 109 
 
 than talk of dead ones; for, of a truth, thee is like to have 
 trouble with them !" 
 
 "Not now, I hope, with such a man as you to help me out 
 of the woods. In the name of heaven, where am I, and 
 whither am I going?" 
 
 "Whither thee is going," replied Nathan, "it might be 
 hard to say, seeing that thee way of travelling is none of 
 the straightest ; nevertheless, if thee continues thee present 
 course, it is my idea thee is travelling to the Upper Ford 
 of the river, and will fetch it in twelve minutes or there- 
 abouts, and, in the same space, find theeself in the midst of 
 thirty ambushed Injuns." 
 
 "Good heavens!" cried Eoland, "have we then been 
 laboring only to approach the cut-throats ? There is not a 
 moment, then, to lose, and your finding us is even more 
 providential than I thought. Put yourself at our head, 
 lead us out of this den of thieves — conduct us to the Lower 
 Ford — ^to our companions, the emigrants; or, if that may 
 not be, take us back to the station, — or any where at all, 
 where I may find safety for these females. For myself, I 
 am incapable of guiding them longer." 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, looking embarrassed, "I would 
 do what I could for thee, but " 
 
 "But! Do you hesitate ?" cried the indignant Virginian, 
 in extreme indignation ; "will you leave us to perish, when 
 you, and you alone, can guide us from the forest?" 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, in a submissive, deprecating 
 tone, "I am a man of peace; and peradventure, the party 
 being so numerous, the Injuns will fall upon us, and, truly, 
 they will not spare me any more than another ; for they kill 
 the non-fighting men as well as them that fight. Truly, I 
 am in much fear for myself; but a single man might es- 
 cape !" 
 
 "If you are such a knave, such a mean-spirited, unfeel- 
 ing dastard, as to think of leaving these women to their 
 fate," said Eoland, giving way to rage, "be assured that the 
 first step will be your last; — I will blow your brains out 
 the moment you attempt to leave us !" 
 
110 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 At these ireful words Nathan's eyes began to widen. 
 
 "Truly," said he, "I don't think thee would be so wicked 1 
 But thee takes by force that which I would have given with 
 good will. It was not my purpose to refuse thee assistance, 
 though it is unseemly that one of my peaceful faith should 
 go with fighting men among men of war, as if to do battle. 
 But, friend, if we should fall upon the angry red men, 
 truly there will bloodshed come of it; and thee wiU say to 
 me, 'Nathan, lift up thee gun and shoot;' and peradven- 
 ture, if I say, 'Nay,' thee will call me hard names, as thee 
 did before, saying, 'If thee don't, I will blow thee brains 
 out !' Friend, I am a man of peace ; and if " 
 
 "Trouble yourself no longer on that score," said the sol- 
 dier, who began to understand how the land lay, and how 
 much the meek Nathan's reluctance to become his guide 
 was engendered by his fears of being called on to take a 
 share in such fighting as might occur — "trouble yourself 
 no longer, we will take care to avoid a contest." 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, "that may not be as thee chooses, 
 the Injuns being all around thee." 
 
 "If a rencontre should be inevitable," said Eoland, with 
 a smile, mingling grim contempt of Nathan's pusillanimity 
 with secret satisfaction at the thought of being thus able to 
 secure the safety of his kinswoman, "all that I shall expect 
 of you will be to decamp with the females, whUst we three, 
 Emperor, Pardon Dodge, and myself, cover your retreat; 
 we can, at least, check the assailants, if we die for it !" 
 
 This resolute speech was echoed by each of the other com- 
 batants, the negro exclaiming, though with no very valiant 
 utterance, "Yes, massa ! no mistake in ole Emperor ; will 
 die for missie and massa!" while Pardon, who was fast 
 relapsing into the desperation that had given him courage 
 on a former occasion, cried out, with direful emphasis, "If 
 there's no dodging the critturs, then there arn't; and if I 
 must fight, then I must; and them that takes my scalp 
 must gin the worth on't, or it a'n't no matter !" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, who listened to these several out- 
 pourings of spirit with much complacency, "I am a man of 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. HI 
 
 peace and amity, according to my conscience ; but if others 
 are men of wrath and battle, according to theirs, I will not 
 take it upon me to censure them — nay, not even if they 
 should feel themselves called upon by hard necessity to 
 shed the blood of their Injun fellow-creatures, who, it must 
 be confessed, if we should stumble on the same, will do 
 their best to make that necessity as strong as possible. But 
 now let us away, and see what help there is for us ; though 
 whither to go, and what to do, there being Injuns before, 
 and Injuns behind, and Injuns all around, truly, truly, it 
 doth perplex me." 
 
 And so, indeed, it seemed; for Nathan straightway fell 
 into a fit of musing, shaking his head, and tapping his fin- 
 ger contemplatively on the stock of that rifle, terrible only 
 to the animals that furnish him subsistence, and all the 
 while in such apparent abstraction that he took no notice 
 of a suggestion made by Roland, — namely, that he should 
 lead the way to the deserted ford, where, as the soldier said, 
 there was every reason to believe there were no Indians, — 
 but continued to argue the difRculty in his own mind, in- 
 terrupting the debate only to ask counsel where there 
 seemed the least probability of obtaining it. 
 
 "Peter!" said he, addressing himself to the little dog, 
 a human adviser, "I have my thoughts on the matter, — 
 a human adviser, "I have my thought on the matter, — 
 what does thee think of matters and things?" 
 
 "My friend," cried Roland, impatiently, "this is no affair 
 to be intrusted to the wisdom of a brute dog." 
 
 "If there is any one here whose wisdom can serve us bet- 
 ter," said Nathan, meekly, "let him speak. Thee don't 
 know Peter, friend, or thee would use him with respect. 
 Many a long day has he followed me through the forest, 
 and many a time has he helped me out of harm and peril 
 from man and beast, when I was at sore shifts to help my- 
 self. For truly, friend, as I told thee before, the Injuns 
 have no regard for men, whether men of peace or war ; and 
 an honest, quiet, peace-loving man can no more roam the 
 wood, hunting for the food that sustains life, without the 
 
lis NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 fear of being murdered, than a fighting man in search of 
 his prey. Thee sees now what little dog Peter is doing? 
 He runs to the tracks and he wags his tail: — truly, I am 
 of the same way of thinking !" 
 
 "What tracks are they?" demanded Eoland, as he fol- 
 lowed Nathan to the path which the latter had been pur- 
 suing when arrested by the soldier, and where the little cur 
 was now smelling about, occasionally lifting his head and 
 wagging his tail, as if to call his master's attention. 
 
 "What tracks!" echoed Nathan, looking on the youth 
 first with wonder and then with commiseration, and adding, 
 "It was a tempting of Providence, friend, for thee to lead 
 poor helpless women into a wild forest. Does thee not 
 know the tracks of thee own horses ?" 
 
 "'Sdeath!" said Eoland, looking on the marks as Na- 
 than pointed them out in the soft earth, and reflecting with 
 chagrin how wildly he had been rambling for more than an 
 hour since they had been impressed on the soil. 
 
 "Thee knows the hoof-marks," said Nathan, now point- 
 ing, with a grin, at other tracks of a different appearance 
 among them; "perhaps thee knows these footprints also?" 
 
 "They are the marks of footmen," said the soldier, in 
 surprise; "but how they came there I know not, no foot- 
 men being of our party." 
 
 The grin that marked the visage of the man of peace 
 widened almost into a laugh, as Eoland spoke. "Verily," 
 he cried, "thee is in the wrong place, friend, in the forest ! 
 If thee had no footmen with thee, could thee have none 
 after thee ? Look, friend, here are tracks, not of one man, 
 but of five, each stepping on tiptoe, as if to tread lightly 
 and look well before him, — each with a moccasin on, — each 
 with a toe turned in ; each " 
 
 "Enough — they were Indians !" said Eoland, with a 
 shudder, "and they must have been close behind us !" 
 
 "Now, friend," said Nathan, "thee will have more re- 
 spect for Peter; for truly it was Peter told me of these 
 things, when I was peaceably hunting my game in the 
 forest. He showed me the track of five ignorant persons 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 113 
 
 rambling through the woods, as the hawk flies in the air — 
 round, round, round, all the time, — or like an ox that has 
 been browsing on the leaves of the buck-eye;* and he 
 showed me that five evil-minded Shawnees were pursuing 
 in their trail. So thinks I to myself, 'these poor creatures 
 will come to mischief, if no one gives them warning of their 
 danger;' and therefore I started to follow, Peter showing 
 me the way. And truly, if there can any good come of my 
 finding thee in this hard case, thee must give all the thanks 
 and all the praise to poor Peter !" 
 
 "I will never more speak ill of a dog as long as I live," 
 said Eoland. "But let us away. I thought our best course 
 was to the Lower Ford; but I find I am mistaken. We 
 must away in the opposite direction." 
 
 "Not so," said Nathan, coolly ; "Peter is of opinion that 
 we must run the tracks over again; and truly, so am I. 
 We must follow these same five Injuns ; it is as much as our 
 lives are worth." 
 
 'TTou are mad !" said Eoland. "This will be to bring us 
 right upon the skulking cut-throats. Let us fly in another 
 direction ; the forest is open before us." 
 
 "And how long does thee think it will keep open? 
 Friend, I tell thee, thee is surrounded by Injuns. On the 
 south, they lie at the ford; on the west is the river rolling 
 along in a flood ; and at the east, are the roads of Shawnees 
 on the scout. Verily, friend, there is but little comfort to 
 think of proceeding in any direction, even to the north, 
 where there are five murdering creatures full before us. 
 But this is my thought, and I rather think it is Peter's ; if 
 we go to the north, we know pretty much all the evil that 
 lies before us, and how to avoid it; whereas by turning 
 to either of the other quarters, we go into danger blind- 
 fold." 
 
 * The buck-eye, or American horse-chestnut, seems to be uni- 
 versally considered in the West a mortal poison, both fruit and 
 leaves. Cattle affected by it, are said to play many remarkable 
 antics, as if intoxicated, — turning, twisting, and rolling about 
 and around, until death closes their agonies. 
 
114 NICK OF THE 'WOODg. 
 
 "And how shall we avoid these five villains before ns ?" 
 asked Koland, anxiously. 
 
 "By keeping them before us," replied Nathan ; "that is, 
 friend, by following them, untU such time as they turn 
 where thee turned before them (and, I warrant me, the 
 evil creatures will turn wheresoever thee trail does) ; when 
 we, if we have good luck, may slip quietly forward, and 
 leave them to follow us, after first taking the full swing of 
 all thee roundabout vagaries." 
 
 "Take your own course," said Eoland; "it may be the 
 best. We can, at the worst, but stumble upon these five; 
 and then (granting that you can, in the meanwhile, bear 
 the females off), I will answer for keeping two or three of 
 the villains busy. Take your own course," he repeated; 
 "the night is darkening around us — ^we must do some- 
 thing." 
 
 "Thee say the truth," cried Nathan. "As for stumbling 
 unawares on the five evil persons thee is in dread of, trust 
 Peter for that; thee shall soon see what a friend thee has 
 in little dog Peter. Truly, for a peaceful man like me, it 
 is needful I should have some one to tell me when dan- 
 gerous persons are nigh." 
 
 With these words, which were uttered with a good coun- 
 tenance, showing how much his confidence in the appar- 
 ently insignificant Peter preserved him from the fears 
 natural to his character and situation, the man of peace 
 proceeded to marshal the company in a line, directing them 
 to follow him in that order, and earnestly impressing upon 
 all the necessity of preserving strict silence upon the 
 march. This being done, he boldly strode forwards, tak- 
 ing a post at least two hundred paces in advance of the 
 others, at which distance, as he gave Eoland to under- 
 stand, he desired the party to follow, as was the more neces- 
 sary, since their being mounted rendered them the more 
 liable to be observed by distant enemies. 
 
 "If thee sees me wave my hand above my head," were 
 his last instructions to the young soldier, who began to be 
 well pleased with his readiness and forecast, "bring thee 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 115 
 
 people to a halt; if thee sees me drop upon the ground, 
 lead them under the nearest cover and kept them quiet; 
 for thee may then be certain there is mischief, or mis- 
 chievous people nigh at hand. But, verily, friend, with 
 Peter's help, we will circumvent them all." 
 
 With this cheering assurance, he now strode forward to 
 his station, and coming to a halt with his dog Peter, Eoland 
 immediately beheld the latter run to a post forty or fifty 
 paces further in advance, when he paused to receive the 
 final orders of his master, which were given with a motion 
 of the same hand that a moment after beckoned the party 
 to follow. 
 
 Had Eoland been sufficiently nigh to take note of pro- 
 ceedings, he would have admired the conduct of the little 
 brute, the unerring accuracy with which he pursued the 
 trail, the soft and noiseless motion with which he stepped 
 from leaf to leaf, casting his eyes ever and anon to the 
 right and left, and winding the air before him as if in 
 reality conscious of peril, and sensible that the welfare of 
 the six mortals at his heels depended upon the faithful 
 exercise of all his sagacity. These things, however, from 
 the distance, Eoland was unable to observe; but he saw 
 enough to convince him that the animal addressed itself to 
 its task with as much zeal and prudence as its master. 
 
 A sense of security, the first felt for several hours, now 
 began to disperse the gloom that had oppressed his spirits ; 
 and Edith's countenance, throughout the whole of the ad- 
 venture a faithful, though doubtless somewhat exaggerated, 
 reflection of his own, also lost much of its melancholy and 
 terror, though without, at any moment, regaining the 
 cheerful smiles that had decked it at the setting-out. It 
 was left for Eoland alone, as his mind regained its elas- 
 ticity, to marvel at the motley additions by which his 
 party had increased in so short a time to twice its original 
 numbers, and to speculate on the prospects of an expedi- 
 tion committed to the guidance of such a conductor as little 
 Peter, 
 
116 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 I heard the tread 
 Of hateful steps! I must be viewless now. 
 
 — Comus. 
 
 The distance at which Eoland with his party followed 
 the guides, and the gloom of the woods, prevented his mak- 
 ing any close observations upon their motions, unless when 
 some swelling ridge, nearly destitute of trees, brought 
 them nearer the light of the upper air. At other times, he 
 could do little more than follow with his eye the tall figure 
 of Nathan, plunging from shadow to shadow, and knoll 
 to knoll, with a pace both free and rapid, and little re- 
 sembling the shambling, hesitating step with which he 
 moved among the haunts of his contemners and oppressors. 
 As for the dog, little Peter, he was only with difficulty seen 
 when ascending some such illuminated knoll as has been 
 mentioned, when he might be traced creeping along with 
 unabated vigilance and caution. 
 
 It was while ascending one of these low, and almost bare 
 swells of ground, that the little animal gave the first proof 
 of that sagacity, or wisdom, as Nathan called it, on which 
 the latter seemed to rely for safety so much more than on 
 his own experience and address. He had no sooner reached 
 the summit of the knoll than he abruptly came to a stand, 
 and by and by cowed to the earth, as if to escape the ob- 
 servation of enemies in front, whose presence he indi- 
 cated in no other way, unless by a few twitches and fiour- 
 ishes of his tail, which, a moment after, became as rigid 
 and motionless as if, with his body, it had been suddenly 
 converted into stone. The whole action, as far as Roland 
 could note it, was similar to that of a well-trained spaniel 
 marking game, and such was the interpretation the soldier 
 put upon it, until Nathan, suddenly stopping, waved his 
 hand as a signal to the party to halt, which was immediately 
 obeyed. 
 
 The next moment Nathan was seen creeping up the hill, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. H'^ 
 
 to investigate the cause of alarm, which he proceeded to do 
 with great caution, as if well persuaded there was danger 
 at hand. Indeed, he had not yet reached the brow of the 
 eminence, when Eoland beheld him suddenly drop upon 
 his face, thereby giving the best evidence of the existence of 
 peril of an extreme and urgent character. 
 
 The young Virginian remembered the instructions of his 
 guide, to seek shelter for his party, the moment this signal 
 was given; and, accordingly, he led his followers without 
 delay into a little tangled brake hard by, where he charged 
 them to remain in quiet, until the cause of the interruption 
 should be ascertained and removed. From the edge of the 
 brake he could see the guide, still maintaining his position 
 on his face, yet dragging himself upward like a snake, until 
 he had reached the top of the hill and looked over into the 
 maze of the forest beyond. 
 
 In this situation he lay for several moments, apparently 
 deeply engaged with the scene before him ; when Forrester, 
 impatient of his silence and delay, anxiously interested in 
 every turn of events, and perhaps unwilling, at a season of 
 diflSculty, to rely altogether on Nathan's unaided observa- 
 tions, gave his horse in charge of Emperor, and ascended 
 the eminence himself; taking care, however, to do as Na- 
 than had done, and throw himself upon the ground when 
 near its summit. 
 
 In this way he succeeded in creeping to Nathan's side, 
 when the cause of alarm was soon made manifest. 
 
 The forest beyond the ridge was, for a considerable dis- 
 tance, open and free from undergrowth, the trees standing 
 wide apart, and thus admitting a broad extent of vision, 
 though now contracted by the increasing dusk of evening. 
 Through this expanse, and in its darkest corner, flitting 
 dimly along, Eoland's eye fell upon certain shadows, at 
 first vague and indistinct, but which soon assumed the 
 human form, marching one after the other in a line, and 
 apparently approaching the very ridge on which he lay, 
 each with the stealthy yet rapid pace of a wild-cat. They 
 were but five in number; but the order of their march, the 
 
118 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 appearance of their bodies, seemingly half naked, and the 
 busy intentness with which they pursued the trail, left so 
 broad and open by the inexperienced wanderers, would have 
 convinced Eoland of their savage character, had he pos- 
 sessed no other evidence than that of his own senses. 
 
 "They are Indians !" he muttered in Nathan's ear. 
 
 "Shawnee creatures," said the latter, with edifying cool- 
 ness ; — "and will think no more of taking the scalps of thee 
 two poor women than of digging ofE thee own." 
 
 "There are but five of them, and " The young man 
 
 paused, and the gloom that a spirit so long harassed by 
 fears, though fears for another, had spread over his counte- 
 nance, was exchanged for a look of fierce decision that bet- 
 ter became his feature. "Harkee, man," he abruptly re- 
 sumed, "we cannot pass the ridge without being seen by 
 them; our horses are exhausted, and we cannot hope to es- 
 cape them by open flight." 
 
 "Verily," said Nathan, "thee speaks the truth." 
 
 "Nor can we leave the path we are now pursuing, with- 
 out fear of falling into the hands of a party more numer- 
 ous and powerful. Our only path of escape, you said, was 
 over this ridge, and towards yonder Lower Ford?" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, with a lugubrious look of assent, 
 "what thee says is true ; but how we are to fly these evil- 
 minded creatures, with poor frightened women hanging to 
 our legs " 
 
 "We will not fly them !" said Eoland, the frown of battle 
 gathering on his brows. "Yonder crawling reptiles — rep- 
 tiles in spirit as in movement, — ^have been dogging our 
 steps for hours, waiting for the moment when to strike with 
 advantage at my defenceless followers; and they will dog 
 us still, if permitted, until there is no escape from their 
 knives and hatchets for either man or woman. There is a 
 way of stopping them — ^there is a way of requiting them !" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, "there is no such way; unless we 
 were wicked men of the world and fighting-men, and would 
 wage battle with them." 
 
 "Why not meet the villains in their own way? Thera 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 119 
 
 are but five of them, — and footmen too ! By heavens, man, 
 we will charge them, — cut them to pieces, and so rid the 
 wood of them ! Four strong men like us fighting, too, in 
 defence of women " 
 
 "Four!" echoed Nathan, looking wonder and alarm to- 
 gether; "does thee think to have me do the wicked thing of 
 shedding blood? Thee should remember, friend, that I 
 am a follower of peaceful doctrines, a man of peace and 
 amity." 
 
 "What!" said Eoland, warmly, "would you not defend 
 your life from the villains? Would you suffer yourself to 
 be tomahawked, unresisting, when a touch of the trigger 
 under your finger, a blow of the knife at your belt, would 
 preserve the existence nature and heaven alike call on you 
 to protect? Would you lie still like a fettered ox to be 
 butchered ?" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, "I would take myself away; or, 
 if that might not be, why then, friend, — verily, friend, if I 
 could do nothing else, — ^truly, I must then give myself up 
 to be murdered." 
 
 "Spiritless, mad, or hypocritical!" cried Roland, with 
 mingled wonder and contempt. Then grasping his strange 
 companion by the arm, he cried, "Harkee, man, if you 
 would not strike a blow for yourself, would you not strike 
 it for another ? What if you had a wife, a parent, a child, 
 lying beneath the uplifted hatchet, and you with these 
 arms in your hands, what ! do you tell me you would stand 
 by and see them murdered? — I say a wife, or child! the 
 wife of your bosom, the child of your heart! — would you 
 see them murdered?" 
 
 At this stirring appeal, uttered with indescribable energy 
 and passion, though only in a whisper, Nathan's counte- 
 nance changed from dark to pale, and his arm trembled in 
 the soldier's grasp. He turned upon him also a look of 
 extraordinary wildness, and muttered betwixt his teeth an 
 answer that betokened as much confusion of mind as agi- 
 tation of spirits. 
 
 "Friend/' he said, "whoever thee is^ it matters nothing to 
 
120 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 thee what might happen, or has happened, in such ease 
 made and provided. I am a man, thee is another, thee 
 has thee conscience, and I have mine. If thee virill fight, 
 fight; settle it with thee conscience. If thee don't like to 
 see thee kinswoman murdered, and thee thinks thee has a 
 call to battle, do thee best with sword and pistol, gun and 
 tomahawk; kill and slay to thee liking; if thee conscience 
 finds no fault with thee, neither will I. But as for me, let 
 the old Adam of the flesh stir me as it may, I have no one 
 to fight for ; wife or child, parent or kinsman, I have none ; 
 if thee will hunt the world over, thee will not find one in 
 it that is my kinsman or relative." 
 
 "But I ask you," said Eoland, somewhat surprised at the 
 turn of Nathan's answer, "I ask you, if you had a wife or 
 child " 
 
 "But I have not," cried ISTathan, interrupting him vehe- 
 mently; "and, therefore, friend, why should thee speak of 
 them ? Them that are dead, let them rest ; they can never 
 cry to me more. Think of thee own blood, and do what 
 seems best to thee for the good thereof." 
 
 "Assuredly I would," said Eoland, who, however much 
 his curiosity was roused by the sudden agitation of his 
 guide, had little time to think of any matters but his o^vn. 
 "Assuredly I would, could I only count upon your hearty 
 assistance. I tell you, man, my blood boils to look at yon- 
 der crawling serpents, and to think of the ferocious object 
 with which they are dogging at my heels ; and I would give 
 a year of my life, — ay, if the whole number of years were 
 but ten, one whole year of all, — for the privilege of pajinff 
 them for their villainy beforehand." 
 
 "Thee has thee two men to back thee," said Nathan, who 
 had now recovered his composure; "and with these two 
 men, if thee is warlike enough, thee might do as much mis- 
 chief as thee conscience calls for. But, truly, it becomes 
 not a man of peace like me to speak of strife and blood- 
 shed. Yet, truly," he added, hastily, "I think there must 
 mischief come of this meeting; for, verily, the evil crea- 
 tures are leaving thee tracks, and coming towards us !" 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 131 
 
 "They stop !" said Forrester, eagerly, — "they look about 
 them — they have lost the track, — they are coming this 
 way! You will not fight, yet you may counsel. What 
 shall I do? Shall I attack them? What can I do?" 
 
 "Friend," replied Nathan briskly, "I can't tell thee 
 what thee can do ; but I can tell thee what a man of Ken- 
 tucky, a wicked fighter of Injuns, would do in such a case 
 made and provided. He would betake him to the thicket 
 where he had hidden his women and horses, and he would 
 lie down with his fighting-men behind a log ; and truly, if 
 those evil-disposed Injun-men were foolish enough to ap- ^ 
 proach, he would fire upon them with his three guns, tak- 
 ing them by surprise, and perhaps, wicked man, killing the 
 better half of them on the spot; and then " 
 
 "And then," interrupted Eoland, taking fire at the idea, 
 'Tie would spring on his horse, and make sure of the rest 
 with sword and pistol ?" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, "he would do no such thing; 
 seeing that the moment he lifted up his head above the 
 logs, he would be liker to have an Injun bullet through it 
 than to see the wicked creature that shot it. Verily, a 
 man of Kentucky would be wiser. He would take the pis- 
 tols thee speaks of, supposing it were his good luck to have 
 them, and let fly at the evil-minded creatures with them 
 also; not hoping, indeed, to do any execution with such 
 small ware, but to make the Injuns believe there were as 
 many enemies as fire-arms; and, truly, if they did not 
 take to their heels after such a second volley, they would 
 be foolisher Injuns than were ever before heard of in Ken- 
 tucky." 
 
 "By heaven," said Forrester, "it is good advice, and I 
 will take it !" 
 
 "Advice, friend! I do not advise thee," said Nathan, 
 hastily ; "truly, I advise to nothing but peace and amity. — 
 I only tell thee what a wicked Kentucky fighting-man would 
 do, — a man that might think it, as many of them do, as 
 lawful to shoot a prowling Injun as a skulking bear." 
 
 "And I would to heaven," said Eoland, "I had but two, 
 
122 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 — nay, but one of them with me this instant. A man like 
 Bruce were ■worth the lives of a dozen such scum. I must 
 do my best." 
 
 "Truly, friend," said Nathan, who had listened to the 
 warlike outpourings of the young soldier with a degree of 
 complacency and admiration one would have scarce looked 
 for in a man of his peaceful character, "thee has a con- 
 science of thee own, and if thee will fight these Injun-men 
 from an ambush, truly I will not censure nor exhort thee to 
 the contrary. If thee can rely upon thee two men, the 
 colored person and the other, thee may hold the evil crea- 
 tures exceedingly uneasy." 
 
 "Alas," said Eoland, the fire departing from his eyes, 
 "you remind me of my weakness. My men will not fight, 
 unless from sheer desperation. Emperor, I know to be a 
 coward, and Dodge, I fear, is no better." 
 
 "Verily," said Nathan, blufBy, "it was foolish of thee to 
 come into the woods in such company — foolisher still to 
 think of fighting five InJun-men with such followers to 
 back thee; and truly," he added, "it was foolishest of all 
 to put the safe-keeping of such helpless creatures into the 
 hands of one who can neither fight for them nor for him- 
 self. Nevertheless, thee is as a babe and suckling in the 
 woods, and Peter and I will do the best we can for thee. 
 It is lucky for thee that as thee cannot fight, thee has the 
 power to fly; and, truly, for the poor women's sake, it is 
 better thee should leave the woods in peace." 
 
 With that, Nathan directed the young man's attention to 
 the pursuing foes, who, having by some mischance lost the 
 trail, had scattered about in search of it, and at last re- 
 covered it ; though not before two of them had approached 
 so nigh the ridge on which the observers lay as to give just 
 occasion for fear lest they should cross it immediately in 
 front of the party of travellers. 
 
 The deadly purpose with which the barbarians were pur- 
 suing him, Eoland could infer from the cautious silence 
 preserved while they were searching for the lost tracks ; and 
 even when these were regained, the discovery was com- 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 123 
 
 municated from one to another merely by signs, not a man 
 uttering so much as a word. In a few moments they were 
 seen again, formed in single file, stealing through the 
 woods with a noiseless but rapid pace, and fortunately bend- 
 ing their steps towards a distant part of the ridge, where 
 Roland and his companions had so lately crossed it. 
 
 "Get thee down to the people," said Nathan ; "lead them 
 behind the thicket, and when thee sees me beckon thee, 
 carry them boldly over the hill. Thee must pass it while 
 the Shawnee-men are behind yonder clump of trees, which 
 is so luckily for thee on the very comb of the swell. Be 
 quick in obeying, friend, or the evil creatures may catch 
 sight of thee ; thee has no time to lose." 
 
 The ardor of battle once driven from his mind, Eoland 
 was able to perceive the folly of risking a needless contest 
 betwixt a superior body of wild Indian warriors and his 
 own followers. But had his warlike spirit been at its 
 height, it must have been quelled in a moment by the ap- 
 pearance of his party, left in the thicket, during his brief 
 absence on the hill, to feed their imaginations with terrors 
 of every appalling character; in which occupation, as ha 
 judged at a glance, the gallant Dodge and Emperor had 
 been even more industrious than the females, the negro 
 looking the very personification of mute horror, and bend- 
 ing low on his saddle, as if expecting every instant a shower 
 of Indian bullets to be let fly into the thicket ; while Pardon 
 expressed the state of his feelings by crying aloud, as soon 
 as Eoland appeared, "I say, capting, if you seed 'em, a'n't 
 there no dodging of 'em no how ?" 
 
 "We can escape, Eoland !" exclaimed Edith, anticipating 
 the soldier's news from his countenance ; "the good man can 
 
 save us 
 
 V" 
 
 "I hope, I trust so," replied the kinsman; "we are in 
 no immediate danger. Be composed, and, for your lives, 
 all now preserve silence." 
 
 A few words served to explain the posture of affairs, and 
 a few seconds to transfer the party from its ignoble hiding- 
 place to the open wood behind it ; when Eoland, casting his 
 
134 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 eyes to where Nathan lay motionless on the hill, awaited 
 impatiently the expected signal. Fortunately, it was soon 
 given; and in a few moments more the party, moving 
 briskly but stealthily over the eminence, had plunged into 
 the dark forest beyond, leaving the bafBed pursuers to fol- 
 low afterwards as they might. 
 
 "Now," said Nathan, taking post at Eoland's side, and 
 boldly directing his course across the track of the enemy, 
 "we have the evil creatures behind us, and, truly, there we 
 will keep them. And now, friend soldier, since such thee 
 is, thee must make thee horses do duty, tired or not ; for if 
 we reach not the Old Ford before darkness closes on us, we 
 may find but ill-fortune crossing the waters. Hark, friend ! 
 does thee hear?" he exclaimed, coming to a pause, as a 
 sudden and frightful yell suddenly rose in the forest be- 
 yond the ridge, obviously proceeding from the five foes, and 
 expressing at once surprise, horror, and lamentation. "Did 
 thee not say thee found a dead Injun in the wood ?" 
 
 "We did," replied the soldier, "the body of an Indian 
 horribly mangled ; and, if I am to believe the strange story 
 I have heard of the Jibbenainosay, it was some of his bloody 
 work." 
 
 "It is good for thee, then, and the maidens that is with 
 thee," said Nathan; "for, truly, the evil creatures have 
 found that same dead man, being doubtless one of their 
 own scouting companions ; and, truly, they say the Injuns, 
 in such cases made and provided, give over their evil de- 
 signs in terror and despair; in which case, as I said, it 
 will be good for thee and thee companions. But follow, 
 friends, and tarry not to ask questions. Thee poor women 
 shall come to no harm, if Nathan Slaughter or little dog 
 Peter can help them." 
 
 With these words of encouragement, Nathan, bounding 
 along with an activity that kept him ever in advance of the 
 mounted wanderers, led the way from the open forest into 
 a labyrinth of brakes and bogs, through paths traced rather 
 by wolves and bears than any nobler animals, so wild, so 
 djfficxilt, and sonietiwieB in appearance go impracticable to 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 135 
 
 be pursued, that Eoland, bewildered from the first, looked 
 every moment to find himself plunged into difficulties from 
 which neither the zeal of Nathan nor the sagacity of the 
 unpretending Peter could extricate his weary followers. 
 
 The night was coming fast, and coming with clouds and 
 distant peals of thunder, the harbingers of new tempests; 
 and how the journey was to be continued, when darkness 
 should at last invest them, through the wild mazes of vine 
 and brake in which they now wandered, was a question 
 which he scarce durst answer. But night came, and still 
 Nathan led the way with unabated confidence and activity, 
 professing a very hearty contempt for all perils and diffi- 
 culties of the woods, except such as proceeded from "evil- 
 minded Shawnee creatures;" and, indeed, averring that 
 there was scarce a nook in the forest for miles around with 
 which he was not as well acquainted as with the patches of 
 his own leathern garments. 
 
 "Truly," said he, "when I first came to this land I did 
 make me a little cabin in a place hard by; but the Injuns 
 burned the same; and, verily, had it not been for little 
 Peter, who gave me a hint of their coming, I should have 
 been burned with it. Be of good heart, friend ; if thee will 
 keep the ill-meaning Injun-men out of my way, I will ad- 
 venture to lead thee any where thee will, within twenty 
 miles of this place, on the darkest night, and that through 
 the thickest cane, or deepest swamp thee can lay eyes on — 
 that is, if I have but little dog Peter to help me. Courage, 
 friend; thee is now coming fast to the river; and if we 
 have but good luck in crossing it, thee shall, peradventure, 
 find theeself nearer thee friends than thee thinks for." 
 
 This agreeable assurance was a cordial to the spirits of 
 all, and the travellers now finding themselves, though still 
 in profound darkness, moving through the open woodlands 
 again, nstead of the maze of copses that had so long con- 
 fined them, Eoland took advantage of the change to place 
 himself at Nathan's side, and endeavor to draw from him 
 some account of his history, and the causes that had brought 
 JiJm into a ppsition jaud wajr of life so ill-suited to his faith 
 
126 NICK or THE "WOODS. 
 
 and peaceful habits. To his questions, however, Nathan 
 seemed little disposed to return satisfactory answers, ex- 
 cept in so far as they related to his adventures since the 
 period of his coming to the frontier; of which he spoke 
 very freely, though succinctly. 
 
 He had built him cabins, like other lonely settlers, and 
 planted corn-fields, from which he had been driven, time 
 after time, by the evil Shawnees, incurring frequent perils 
 and hardships; which, with the persecutions he endured 
 from his more warlike and intolerant neighbors, gradually 
 drove him into the forest to seek a precarious subsistence 
 from the spoils of the chase. 
 
 As to his past life, and the causes that had made him a 
 dweller of the wilderness, he betrayed so little inclination 
 to satisfy the young man's curiosity, that Eoland dropped 
 the subject entirely, not however without suspecting that 
 the imputations Bruce had cast upon his character might 
 have had some foundation in truth. 
 
 But while conning these things over in his mind, on a 
 sudden the soldier stepped from the dark forest into a 
 broad opening, canopied only by the sky, sweeping like a 
 road through the wood, in which it was lost behind him; 
 while, in front, it sank abruptly into a deep hollow or 
 gulf, in which was heard the sullen rush of an impetuous 
 river. 
 
 CHAPTEK XIII. 
 
 Rosse. I have words 
 
 That would he howl'd out in the desert air. 
 Where hearing should not catch them. 
 
 Macduff. What concern they? 
 
 ~—Macheth. 
 
 The roar of the moving flood, for such by its noise it 
 seemed as they descended the river-bank, to which Nathan 
 had so skilfully conducted the party^ awoke in Roland's 
 bosom a feeling of dismay. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 13^ 
 
 "Fear not," said the guide, to whom he imparted his 
 doubts of the safety of the ford ; "there is more danger in 
 one single skulking Shawnee than ten thousand such sput- 
 tering brooks. Verily, the ford is good enough, though 
 deep and rough ; and if the water should soil the young wo- 
 men's garments a little, thee should remember it will not 
 make so ugly a stain as the blood-mark of a scalping 
 savage." 
 
 "Lead on," said Pardon Dodge, with unexpected spirit; 
 "I am not of them 'ere fellers as fears a big river ; and my 
 hoss is a dreadful fine swimmer." 
 
 "In that case," said Nathan, "if thee consents to the 
 same, I will get up behind thee, and so pass over dry-shod ; 
 for the feel of wet leather breeches is quite uncomfort- 
 able." 
 
 This proposal being reasonable enough, was readily ac- 
 ceded to, and Nathan was in the act of climbing to the 
 crupper of Dodge's horse, when little Peter began to mani- 
 fest a prudent desire to pass the ford dry-shod also, by 
 pawing at his master's heels, and beseeching his notice with 
 sundry low but expressive whinings. Such, at least, was 
 the interpretation which Eoland, who perceived the animal's 
 motions, was inclined to put upon them. He was, there- 
 fore, not a little surprised when Nathan, starting from 
 the stirrup into which he had climbed, leaped again to the 
 ground, staring around him from right to left with every 
 appearance of alarm. 
 
 "Eight, Peter !" he at last muttered, fixing his eye upon 
 the further bank of the river, a dark mass of hill and forest 
 that rose in dim relief again the clouded sky, overshadow- 
 ing the whole stream, which lay like a pitchy abyss betwixt 
 it and the travellers, — "right, Peter ! thee eyes is as good 
 as thee nose — thee is determined the poor women shall not 
 be murdered !" 
 
 **What is it you see?" demanded Forrester, "and why 
 do you talk of murdering?" 
 
 "Speak low, and look across the river," whispered the 
 
128 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 guide, in reply ; "does thee see the light glimmering among 
 the rocks by the road side ?" 
 
 "I see neither rocks nor road, — all is to my eyes confused 
 blackness; and as for a light, I see nothing — Stay! 'So; 
 'tis the gleam of a fire-fly." 
 
 "The gleam of a fire-fly!" murmured Nathan, with 
 tones that seemed to mingle wonder and derision with feel- 
 ings of a much more serious character; "it is such a fire- 
 fly as might burn a house, or roast a living captive at the 
 stake ! — It is a brand in the hands of a 'camping Shawnee ! 
 Look, friend, he is blowing it into a flame; and presently 
 thee will see the whole bank around it in a glow." 
 
 It was even as Nathan said. Almost while he was yet 
 speaking, the light, which all now clearly beheld, at first a 
 point as small and faint as the spark of a lampyris, and 
 then a star scarce bigger or brighter than the torch of a 
 jack-o'-lantern, suddenly grew in magnitude, projecting a 
 long and lance-like, though broken reflection over the 
 wheeling current, and then as suddenly shot into a bright 
 and ruddy blaze, illuminating hill and river, and even the 
 anxious countenances of the travellers. At the same time 
 a dark figure, as of a man engaged feeding the flame with 
 fresh fuel, was plainly seen twice or thrice to pass before 
 it. How many others, his comrades, might be watching its 
 increasing blaze or preparing for their wild slumbers 
 among the rocks and bushes where it was kindled, it was 
 impossible to divine. 
 
 The sight of the fire itself in such a solitary spot, and 
 under such circumstances, even if no attendant had been 
 seen by it, would have been enough to alarm the travellers, 
 and compel the conviction that their enemies had not for- 
 gotten to station a force at this neglected ford, as well as 
 at the other more frequented one above, and thus to de- 
 prive them of the last hope of escape. 
 
 This unexpected incident, the climax of a long series of 
 disappointments, all of a character so painful and exciting, 
 drove the young soldier again to despair ; which, feeling the 
 tantalizing sense that he was now within but a few miles 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. 129 
 
 of his companions in exile, and separated from them only 
 by the single obstruction before him, exasperated into a 
 species of fury bordering almost upon frensy. 
 
 "There is but one way of escape," he exclaimed, without 
 venturing even a look towards his kinswoman, or seeking 
 by idle words to conceal the danger of their situation ; "we 
 must pass the river. The roar of the water will drown the 
 noise of our footsteps; we can cross unheard and unlocked 
 for ; and then if there be no way of avoiding them, we can 
 pour a volley among the rascals at their fire, and take ad- 
 vantage of their confusion to gallop by. Look to the wo- 
 men, Nathan Slaughter ; and you. Pardon Dodge and Em- 
 peror, follow me, and do as you see me do." 
 
 "Truly," said Wandering Nathan, with admirable cool- 
 ness and complacency, "thee is a courageous young man, 
 and a young man of sense and spirit, — that is to say, after 
 thee own sense of matters and things ; and truly, if it were 
 not for the poor women, and for the blazing fire, thee might 
 greatly confound and harmfully vanquish the evil creatures, 
 there placed so unluckily on the bank, in the way and man- 
 ner which thee thinks of. But, friend, thee plan will not 
 do ; thee might pass unheard indeed, but not unseen. Does 
 thee not see how brightly the fire blazes on the water? 
 Truly, we should all be seen and fired at before we reached 
 the middle of the stream ; and truly, I should not be sur- 
 prised if the gleam of the fire on the pale faces of th-' 
 poor women should bring a shot upon us where we stand ; 
 and, therefore, friend, the sooner we get us out of the way, 
 the better." 
 
 "And where shall we betake us ?" demanded Eoland, the 
 sternness of whose accents but ill disguised the gloom and 
 hopelessness of his feelings. 
 
 "To a place of safety and of rest," replied the guide, 
 "and to one that is nigh at hand ; where we may lodge us, 
 with little fear of Injuns, until such time as the waters 
 shall abate a little, or the stars give us light to cross them 
 at a place where are no evil Shawnees to oppose us. And 
 then, friend, as to slipping by these foolish creatures who 
 
130 NICK or THE WOODS. 
 
 make sueh bright fires on the public highway, truly, with 
 little Peter's assistance, we can do it with great ease." 
 
 "Let us not delay," said Eoland ; and 'added, sullenly, 
 "though where a place of rest and safety can be found in 
 these detestable woods, I can no longer imagine." 
 
 "It is a place of rest, at least, for the dead," said Kathan, 
 in a low voice, at the same time leading the party back again 
 up the bank, and taking care to shelter them, as he as- 
 cended, as much as possible from the light of the fire, 
 which was now blazing with great brilliancy; "nine hu- 
 man corses — father and mother, grandam and children — 
 sleep under the threshold at the door; and there are not 
 many, white men or Injuns, that will, of their free will, 
 step over the bosoms of the poor murdered creatures after 
 nightfall ; and, the more especially, because there are them 
 that believe they rise at midnight, and roam round the 
 house and the clearings, mourning. Yet it is a good hid- 
 ing place for them that are in trouble ; and many a night 
 have little Peter and I sheltered us beneath the ruined roof, 
 with little fear of either ghosts or Injuns; though, truly, 
 we have sometimes heard strange and mournful noises 
 among the trees around us. It is but a poor place and a 
 sad one ; but it will afford thee weary women a safe resting- 
 place till sueh time as we can cross the river." 
 
 These words of Nathan brought to Eoland's recollection 
 the story of the Ashburns, whom Bruce had alluded to, as 
 having been all destroyed at their station in a single night 
 by the Indians, and whose tragical fate, perhaps, more than 
 any other circumstance, had diverted the course of travel 
 from the ford, near to which they had seated themselves, to 
 the upper, and, originally, less-frequented one. 
 
 It was not without reluctance that Eoland prepared to 
 lead his little party to this scene of butchery and sorrow; 
 for, though little inclined himself to superstitious feelings 
 of any kind, he could easily imagine what would be the 
 effect of such a scene, with its gloomy and blood-stained 
 associations, on the harassed mind of his cousin. But suf- 
 fering and terrorj even on the part of Edith, were not to 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. l^i 
 
 be thought of where they could purchase escape from evils 
 far more real and appalling; and he therefore avoided all 
 remonstrance and opposition, and even sought to hasten 
 the steps of his conductor towards the ruined and solitary 
 pile. 
 
 The hank was soon reascended; and the party, stealing 
 along in silence, presently took their last view of the ford, 
 and the yet blazing fire that had warned them so oppor- 
 tunely from its dangerous vicinity. In another moment 
 they had crept a second time into the forest, though in the 
 opposite quarter from that whence they had come ; making 
 their way through what had once been a broad path, evi- 
 dently cut by the hands of man, through a thicket of cane- 
 brake, though long disused, and now almost choked by 
 brambles and shrubs; and, by and by, having followed it 
 for somewhat less than half a mile, they found themselves 
 on a kind of clearing, which, it was equally manifest, had 
 been once a cultivated field of several acres in extent. 
 
 Throughout the whole of this space, the trunks of the 
 old forest-trees, dimly seen in the light of a clouded sky, 
 were yet standing, but entirely leafless and dead, and pre- 
 senting such an aspect of desolation as is painful to the 
 mind, even when sunshine, and the flourishing maize at 
 their roots, invest them with a milder and more cheerful 
 character. Such prospects are common enough in all new 
 American clearings, where the husbandman is content to 
 deprive the trees of life by girdling, and then leave them 
 to the assaults of the elements and the natural course of 
 decay ; and where a thousand trunks of the gigantic growth 
 of the West are thus seen rising together in the air, naked 
 and hoary with age, they impress the imagination with such 
 gloom as is engendered by the sight of ruined colonnades. 
 
 Such was the case with the present prospect; years had 
 passed since the axe had sapped the strength of the mighty 
 oaks and beeches ; bough after bough, and limb after limb, 
 had fallen into the earth, with here and there some huge 
 trunk itself, overthrown by the blast, and now rotting 
 among weeds on the soil which it cumbered. 
 
132 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 At the present hour, the spectacle was peculiarly mourn- 
 ful and dreary. The deep solitude of the spot — the hour 
 itself — the gloomy aspect of the sky veiled in clouds — ^the 
 occasional rush of the wind sweeping like a tempest through 
 the woods, to be succeeded by a dead and dismal calm — 
 the roll of distant thunder reverberating among the hills; 
 but, more than all, the remembrance of the tragical event 
 that had consigned the ill-fated settlement to neglect and 
 desolation, and gave the deepest character of gloom to the 
 scene. 
 
 As the travellers entered upon the clearing, there oc- 
 curred one of those casualties which so often increase the 
 awe of the looker-on, in such places. In one of the deepest 
 lulls and hushes of the wind, when there was no apparent 
 cause in operation to produce such an eifect, a tall and ma- 
 jestic trunk was seen to decline from the perpendicular, 
 topple slowly through the air, and then fall to the earth 
 with a crash like the shock of an earthquake. 
 
 The poet and the moralizing philosopher may find food 
 for contemplation in such a scene and such a catastrophe. 
 He may see in the lofty and decaying trunks the hoary 
 relics and representatives of a generation of better and 
 greater spirits than those who lead the destinies of his own 
 — spirits, left not more as monuments of the past than as 
 models for the imitation of the present; he may contrast 
 their majesty serenity and rest, their silence and immov- 
 ableness, with the turmoil of the greener growth around, 
 the uproar and collision produced by every gust, and trace 
 the resemblance to the scene where the storms of party, 
 rising among the sons, hurtle so indecently around the gray 
 fathers of a republic, whose presence should stay them ; and, 
 finally, he may behold in the trunks, as they yield at last 
 to decay, and sink one by one to the earth, the fall of each 
 aged parent of his country — a fall, indeed, as of an oak of 
 a thousand generations, shocking the earth around, and 
 producing, for a moment, wonder, awe, grief, and then a 
 long forgetfulness. 
 
 But men in the situation of the travellers have neither 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 133 
 
 time nor inclination for moralizing. The fall of the tree 
 only served to alarm the weaker members of the party, to 
 some of whom, perhaps, it appeared as an inauspicions 
 omen. Apparently, however, it awoke certain mournful 
 recollections in the brains of both little Peter and his mas- 
 ter, the former of whom, as he passed it by, began to 
 snuffle and whine in a low and peculiar manner; while 
 Nathan immediately responded, as if in reply to his coun- 
 sellor's address, "Ay, truly, Peter ! — thee has a good mem- 
 ory of the matter; though five long years is a marvellous 
 time for thee little noddle to hold things. It was under 
 this very tree they murdered the poor old granny, and 
 brained the innocent helpless babe. Of a truth, it was a 
 sight that made my heart sick within me." 
 
 "What!" asked Eoland, who followed close at his heels 
 and overheard the half -soliloquized expressions ; "were you 
 present at the massacre?" 
 
 "Alas, friend," replied Nathan, "it was neither the first 
 nor last massacre that I have seen with these eyes. I 
 dwelt, in them days, in a cabin a little distance down the 
 river; and these poor people, the Ashburns, were my near 
 neighbors ; though, truly, they were not to me as neighbors 
 should be, but held me in disfavor, because of my faith, and 
 ever repelled me from their doors with scorn and ill-will. 
 Yet was I sorry for them, because of the little children they 
 had in the house, the same being afar from succour; and 
 when I found the tracks of the Injun party in the wood, 
 as it was often my fate to do, while rambling in search of 
 food, and saw that they were bending their way towards my 
 own little wigwam, I said to myself, 'whilst they are burn- 
 ing the same, I wUl get me to friend Ashburn, that he may 
 be warned and escape to friend Bruce's station in time with 
 his people and cattle.' 
 
 "But, verily, they held my story light, and laughed at 
 and derided me ; for in them days the people hardened their 
 hearts and closed their ears against me, because I held it 
 not according to conscience to kill Injuns as they did, and 
 so refused. And so, friend, they drove me from their doors ; 
 
134 KICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 seeing which, and perceiving the poor creatures were in a 
 manner besotted and bent upon their own destruction, and 
 the night coming on fast, I turned my steps and ran with 
 what speed I could to friend Bruce's, telling him the whole 
 story, and advising that he should despatch a strong body 
 of horsemen to the place, so as to frighten the evil crea- 
 tures away; for, truly, I did not hold it right that there 
 should be bloodshed. 
 
 "But, truly, and alas, friend ! I fared no better, and per- 
 haps a little worse at the station than I had fared before at 
 Ashburn's; wherefore, being left in despair, I said to my- 
 self I will go into the woods and hide me away, not return- 
 ing to the river, lest I should be compelled to look upon 
 the shedding of the blood of the men and little babes, which 
 I had no power to prevent. But it came into my mind 
 that perhaps the Injuns, not finding me in my wigwam, 
 might lie in wait round about it expecting my return, and 
 so delaying the attack upon friend Ashburn's house, where- 
 by I might have time to reach him and warn him of his 
 danger again; and this idea prevailed with me, so that I 
 rose me up again, and with little Peter at my side, I ran 
 back again, until I had reached this very field ; when Peter 
 gave me to know the Injuns were hard by. Thee don't 
 know little Peter, friend; truly he has the strongest nose 
 for an Injun thee ever saw. Does thee not hear how he 
 whines and snufEs along the grass? Now, friend, were it 
 not that this is a bloody spot that Peter remembers well, 
 because of the wicked deeds he saw performed, I would 
 know by his whining, as truly as if he were to open his 
 mouth and say as much in words, that there were evil In- 
 juns nigh at hand, and that it behoved me to be up and 
 a-doing. 
 
 "Well, friend, as I was saying — it was with such words 
 as these that little Peter told me that mischief was nigh; 
 and truly, I had scarce time to hide me in the corn, which 
 was then in the ear, before I heard the direful yells with 
 which the blood-thirsty creatures, who were then round 
 about the house, woke up its frighted inmates. Verily, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 135 
 
 friend, I will not shock thee by telling thee what I heard 
 and saw. There was a fate on the family, and even on the 
 animals that looked to it for protection. Neither horse 
 nor cow gave them the alarm ; and even the house-dog slept 
 so soundly, that the enemies dragged loose brush into the 
 porch and fired it before any one but themselves dreamed 
 of danger. It was when the flames burst out that the war- 
 whoop was sounded; and when the eyes of the sleepers 
 opened, it was only to see themselves surrounded both by 
 flames and raging Shawnees. 
 
 "Then, friend," continued Nathan, speaking with a fal- 
 tering and low voice, graduated for the ears of Eoland, for 
 whom alone the story was intended, though others caught 
 here and there some of its dismal revealments, "then thee 
 may think, there was rushing out of men, women, and chil- 
 dren, with the crackling of rifles, the crashing of hatchets, 
 the plunge of knives, with yells and shrieks such as would 
 turn thee spirit into ice and water to hear. It was a fear- 
 ful lAassacre; but, friend, fearful as it was, these eyes of 
 mine had looked on one more dreadful before; thee would 
 not believe it, friend, but thee knows not what them see, 
 who have spent their lives on the Injun border ! 
 
 "Well, friend," continued the narrator, after this brief 
 digression, "while they were murdering the stronger, I saw 
 the weakest of all — ^the old grandam, with the youngest 
 babe in her arms, come flying into the corn; and she had 
 reached this very tree that has fallen but now, as if to re- 
 mind me of the story, when the pursuer, for it was but a 
 single man they sent in chase of the poor feeble old wo- 
 man, caught up with her, and struck her down with his 
 tomahawk. Then, friend — for, truly, I saw it all in the 
 light of the flre, being scarce two rods off — ^he snatched the 
 poor babe from the dying woman's arms, and struck it with 
 the same bloody hatchet " 
 
 "And you!" exclaimed Eoland, leaning from his horse 
 and clutching the speaker by the collar, for he was seized 
 with ungovernable indignation, or rather fury, at what he 
 esteemed the cold-blooded cowardice of Nathan, "You!" 
 
136 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 he cried, grasping him as if he would have torn him to 
 pieces, "You, wretch! stood by and saw the child mur- 
 dered !" 
 
 "Friend," said Fathan, with some surprise at the unex- 
 pected assault, but still with great submissiveness, "thee is 
 as unjust to me as others. Had I been as free to shed blood 
 as thee theeself, yet could I not have saved the babe in that 
 way, seeing that my gun was taken from me, and I was 
 unarmed. Thee forgets — or rather I forgot to inform thee 
 — ^how, when I told friend Bruce my story, he took my gun 
 from me, saying that 'as I was not man enough to use it, I 
 should not be allowed to carry it,' and so turned me out 
 naked from the fort. Truly, it was an ill thing of him 
 to take from me that which gave me my meat; and truly 
 too, it was doubly ill of him as it concerned the child; for 
 I tell thee, friend, when I stood in the corn and saw the 
 great brutal Injun raise the hatchet to strike the little 
 child, had there been a gun in my hand, I should — I can't 
 tell thee, friend, what I might have done; but, truly, I 
 should not have permitted the evil creature to do the bloody 
 deed !" 
 
 "I thought so, by heaven!" said Eoland, who had re- 
 laxed his grasp the moment Nathan mentioned the seizure 
 of the gun, which story was corroborated by the account 
 Bruce had himself given of that stretch of authority — "I 
 thought so; no human creature, not an Indian, unless the 
 veriest dastard and dog that ever lived, could have had 
 arms in his hand, and, on such an occasion, failed to use 
 them! But you had humanity — ^j'ou did something?" 
 
 "Friend," said Fathan, meekly, "I did what I could — ■ 
 but, truly, what could I? Nevertheless, friend, I did, be- 
 ing set beside myself by the sight, snatch the little babe out 
 of the man's hands, and fly to the woods, hoping, though 
 it was sore wounded, that it might yet live. But, alas ! be- 
 fore I had run a mile, it died in my arms, and I was covered 
 from head to foot with its blood. It was a sore sight for 
 friend Bruce, whom I found with his people galloping to 
 the ford, to see what ther§ jpight be in piy story; for, it 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 137 
 
 seems, as lie told me himself, that, after he liad driven me 
 away, he could not sleep for thinking that perhaps I had 
 told the truth. And truth enough, he soon found, I had 
 spoken; for, galloping immediately to Ashburn's house, he 
 found nothing there but the corses of the people, and the 
 house partly consumed — for, being of green timber, it could 
 not all burn. There was not one of the poor family that 
 escaped." 
 
 "But they were avenged ?" muttered the soldier. 
 
 "If thee calls killing the killers avenging," replied Na- 
 than, "the poor deceased people had vengeance enough. 
 Of the fourteen murderers, for that was the number, eleven 
 were killed before day-dawn, the pursuers having dis- 
 covered where they had built their fire, and so taken them 
 by surprise; and of the three that escaped, it was after- 
 wards said, by returning captives, that only one made his 
 way home, the other two having perished in the woods in 
 some way unknown. But truly," continued Nathan, sud- 
 denly diverting his attention from the tragic theme to the 
 motions of his dog, "little Peter is more disturbed than is 
 his wont. Truly, he has never had a liking to the spot; 
 I have heard them that said a dog could scent the presence 
 of spirits." 
 
 "To my mind," said Koland, who had not forgotten 
 Nathan's eulogium on the excellence of the animal's nose 
 for scenting Indians, and was somewhat alarmed at what 
 appeared to him the evident uneasiness of little Peter, "he 
 is more like to wind another party of cursed Shawnees, 
 than any harmless disembodied spirits." 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, "it may be that Injuns have 
 trodden upon this field this day, seeing that the wood is full 
 of them; and it is like enough that those very evil crea- 
 tures at the ford hard by have stolen hither, before taking 
 their post, to glut their eyes with the sight of the ruins, 
 where the blood of nine poor white persons was shed by their 
 brothers in a single night ; though, truly, in that case, they 
 must have also thought of the thirteen murderers that 
 Wed for the victims; which would prove sowewhat a draw- 
 
138 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 back to their satisfaction. No, friend; Peter has his likes 
 and his dislikes, like a human being; and this is a spot he 
 ever approaches with abhorrence, — as, truly, I do myself, 
 never coming hither, unless when driven, as now, by neces- 
 sity. But, friend, if thee is in fear, thee shall be satisfied 
 there is no danger before thee ; it shall never be said that I 
 undertook to lead thee poor women out of mischief, only 
 to plunge them into peril. I will go before thee to the 
 ruin, which thee sees there by the hollow, and reconnoitre." 
 
 "It needs not," said Koland, who now seeing the cabin 
 of which they were in search close at hand, and perceiving 
 that Peter's uneasiness had subsided, dismissed his own as 
 being groundless. But, notwithstanding, he thought 
 proper, as Nathan advanced, to ride forward himself, and 
 inspect the condition of the building, in which he was 
 about to commit the safety of the being he held most dear, 
 and on whose account, only, he felt the thousand anxieties 
 and terrors he never could have othenvise experienced. 
 
 The building was a low cabin of logs, standing, as it 
 seemed, on the verge of an abyss, in which the river could 
 be heard dashing tumultuously, as if . among rocks and 
 other obstructions. It was one of those double cabins so 
 frequently found in the West; that is to say, it consisted 
 of two separate cots, or wings, standing a little distance 
 apart, but united by a common roof; which thus afforded 
 shelter to the open hall or passage between them ; while the 
 roof being continued also from the eaves, both before and 
 behind, in pent-house fashion, it allowed space for wide 
 porches, in which, and in the open passage, the summer 
 traveller, resting in such a cabin, will always find the most 
 agreeable quarters. 
 
 How little soever of common wisdom and discretion the 
 fate of the builders might have shown them to possess, 
 they had not forgotten to provide their solitary dwelling 
 with such defences as were common to all others in the 
 land at that period. A line of palisades, carelessly and 
 feebly constructed, indeed, but perhaps sufficient for the 
 purpose intended, enclosed the ground on which the cabin 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 139 
 
 stood; and this being placed directly in the centre, and 
 joining it at the sides, thus divided it into two little yards, 
 one in front, the other in the rear, in which was space suffi- 
 cient for horses and cattle, as well as for the garrison, 
 when called to repel assailants. The enclosure behind ex- 
 tended to the verge of the river-bank, which, falling down 
 a sheer precipice of forty or fifty feet, required no defence 
 of stakes, and seemed never to have been provided with 
 them; while that in front circumscribed a portion of a 
 cleared field, entirely destitute of trees, and almost of 
 bushes. 
 
 Such had been the original plan and condition of a 
 fortified private-dwelling, a favorable specimen, perhaps, 
 of the family-forts of the day, and which, manned by five 
 or six active and courageous defenders, might have bidden 
 defiance to thrice the number of barbarians that had actu- 
 ally succeeded in storming it. Its present appearance was 
 ruinous and melancholy in the extreme. The stockade was 
 in great part destroyed, especially in front, where the 
 stakes seemed to have been rooted up by the winds, or to 
 have fallen from sheer decay; and the right wing or cot, 
 that had suffered most from the flames, lay a blackened 
 and mouldering pile of logs, confusedly heaped on its 
 floor, or on the earth beneath. The only part of the 
 building yet standing was the cot on the left hand, which 
 consisted of but a single room, and that, as Eoland per- 
 ceived at a glance, almost roofless and ready to fall. 
 
 Nothing could be more truly cheerless and forbidding 
 than the appearance of the ruined pile ; and the hoarse and 
 dismal rush of the rivers below, heard the more readily by 
 reason of a deep, rocky fissure, or ravine, running from the 
 rear yard to the water's edge, through which the sound 
 ascended in hollow echoes, adding double horror to its ap- 
 pearance. It was, moreover, obviously insecure and un- 
 tenable against any resolute enemy, to whom the ruins of 
 the fallen wing and stockade, and the rugged depths of the 
 ravine, offered much more effectual shelter, as well as the 
 best place of annoyance. 
 
140 NICK OF THE WOODS, 
 
 The repugnance, however, that Eoland felt to occupy it 
 even for a few hours, was combated by Nathan, who repre- 
 sented that the ford at which he designed crossing the river, 
 several miles farther down, could not be safely attempted 
 until the rise of the waning moon, or until the clouds should 
 disperse, affording them the benefit of the dim starlight; 
 that the road to it lay through swamps and hollows, now 
 submerged, in which could be found no place of rest for 
 the females, exhausted by fatigue and mental suffering; 
 and that the ruin might be made as secure as the station 
 the travellers had left; "for truly," said he, "it is not ac- 
 cording to my ways or conscience to leave any thing to 
 chance or good luck when there is Injun scent in the forest, 
 though it be in the forest ten miles off. Truly, friend, I 
 design, when thee poor tired women is sleeping, to keep 
 watch round the ruin, with Peter to help me ; and if thee- 
 self and thee two male persons have strength to do the 
 same, it will be all the better for the same." 
 
 "It shall be done," said Eoland, as much pleased by the 
 suggestion, as he was by the humane spirit that prompted 
 it : "my two soldiers can watch if they cannot fight, and I 
 shall take care they watch well." 
 
 Thus composing the difficulty, preparations were imme- 
 diately made to occupy the ruin, into which Eoland, having 
 previously entered with Emperor, and struck a light, intro- 
 duced his weary kinswoman with her companion Telle; 
 while Nathan and Pardon Dodge led the horses into the 
 ravine, where they could be easily confined, and allowed to 
 browse and drink at will, being at the same time beyond 
 the reach of observation from any foe that might be yet 
 prowling through the forest. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 141 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 One's hip he slash'd, and split the other's shoulder, 
 And drove them with their brutal yells to seek 
 
 If there might be chirurgeons who could solder 
 The wounds they richly merited, and shriek 
 
 Their baffled rage and pain. 
 
 — Don Jium. 
 
 The light struck by the negro was soon succeeded by a 
 fire, for which ample materials lay ready at hand among 
 the ruins; and as it blazed up from the broken and long 
 deserted hearth, the travellers could better view the dismal 
 aspect of the cabin. It consisted, as has been mentioned, 
 of but a single remaining apartment, with walls of logs, 
 from whose chinks the clay with which they had been origi- 
 nally plastered had long since vanished, with here and 
 there a fragment of a log itself, leaving a thousand gaps for 
 the admission of wind and rain. The ceiling of poles (for 
 it had once possessed a kind of garret) had fallen down 
 under the weight of the rotting roof, of which but a small 
 portion remained, and that in the craziest condition; and 
 the floor of puncheons, or planks of split logs, was in a 
 state of equal dilapidation, more than half of it having 
 rotted away and mingled with the earth on which it re- 
 posed. 
 
 Doors and windows there were none ; but two mouldering 
 gaps in the front and the rear walls, and another of greater 
 magnitude opening from the side into what had once been 
 the hall or passage (though now a platform heaped with 
 fragments of charred windows), showed where the narrow 
 entrance and loop-hole windows had once existed. The 
 former was without leaf or defence of any kind, unless 
 such might have been found in three or four logs standing 
 against the wall hard by, whence they could be easily re- 
 moved and piled against the opening; for which purpose 
 Eoland did not doubt they had been used, and by the 
 houseless Nathan himself. 
 
143 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 But a better protection was oSered by the ruins of the 
 other apartment, which had fallen down in such a way as 
 almost to block up the door, leaving a passage in and out 
 only towards the rear of the building; and, in case of sud- 
 den attack and seizure of this sole entrance, there were 
 several gaps at the bottom of the wall, through one of 
 which, in particular, it would be easy enough to efEect a 
 retreat. At this place the floor was entirely wanting, and 
 the earth below washed into a gully communicating with 
 the rocky ravine, of which it might be considered the head. 
 
 But the looks of the soldier did not dwell long upon the 
 dreary spectacle of ruin; they were soon cast upon the 
 countenance of Edith, concealed so long by darkness. It 
 was even wanner and paler than he feared to find it, and 
 her eye shone with an unnatural lustre, as it met his own. 
 She extended her hands, and placed them in his, gazed 
 upon him piercingly, but without speaking, or indeed seem- 
 ing able to utter a single word. 
 
 "Be of good heart," he said, replying to the look of in- 
 quiry; "we are unfortunate, Edith, but we are safe." 
 
 "Thank heaven!" she exclaimed, but more wildly than 
 fervently; "I have been looking every moment to see you 
 shot dead at my feet ! Would I had died, Roland, my 
 brother, before I brought you to this fatal land. But I 
 distress you! Well, I will not be frightened more. But 
 is not this an adventure for a woman that never before 
 looked upon a cut finger without fainting? Truly, Eo- 
 land, 'truly,' as friend Nathan says, it is as ridiculous as 
 frightful; and then this cabin, where they killed so many 
 poor women and children, — is it not a ridiculous lodging- 
 place for Edith Forrester? a canopy of clouds, a couch of 
 clay, with owls and snakes for my bed-fellows — ^truly, truly, 
 truly, it is very ridiculous !" 
 
 It seemed, for a moment, as if the maiden's effort to ex- 
 change her melancholy and terror for a more joyous feel- 
 ing, would have resulted in producing even greater agita- 
 tion than before; but the soothing words of Eoland, and 
 the encouraging countenance maintained by Telle Doe, who 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. 143 
 
 seemed little affected by their forlorn situation, gradually- 
 tranquillized her mind, and enabled her the better to pre- 
 serve the air of levity and mirthfulness, which she so vainly 
 attempted at first to assume. This moment of calm Eo- 
 land took advantage of to apprise her of the necessity of 
 recruiting her spirits with a few hours' sleep; for which 
 purpose he began to look about him for some suitable place 
 in which to strew her a bed of fern and leaves. 
 
 "Why, here is one strewn for me already," she cried, 
 with an affected laugh, pointing to a corner, in which lay 
 a mass of leaves so green and fresh that they looked as if 
 plucked but a day or two before; "truly, Nathan has not 
 invited me to his hiding-place to lodge me meanly (heaven 
 forgive me for laughing at the poor man; for we owe him 
 cur lives !) ; nay, nor to send me supperless to bed. See !" 
 she added, pointing to a small brazen kettle, which her 
 quick eye detected among the leaves, and which was soon 
 followed by a second that Emperor stirred up from its con- 
 cealment, and both of them, as was soon perceived, still re- 
 taining the odor of a recent savory stew. "Look well. Em- 
 peror — where the kitchen is, the larder cannot be far dis- 
 tant. I warrant me, we shall find that Nathan has pro- 
 vided us a good supper." 
 
 "Such, perhaps, as a woodman only can eat," said Ko- 
 land, who, somewhat surprised at the superfluous number 
 of Nathan's valuables (for to Nathan he doubted not they 
 belonged), had begun stirring the leaves, and succeeded in 
 raking up with his rifle, which he had not laid aside, a little 
 earthen pouch, well stored with parched corn: "A strange 
 fellow this Nathan," he muttered; "he really spoke as if 
 he had not visited the ruin for a considerable period; 
 whereas it is evident he must have slept here last night. 
 But he seems to affect mystery in all that concerns his own 
 private movements — it is the character of his persuasion." 
 
 While Eoland, with the females, was thus laying hands 
 and speculating upon the supposed chattels of their con- 
 ductor, Nathan himself entered the apartment, betraying 
 gome degree of agitation in his countenance, whilst the 
 
144 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 faithful Peter, who followed at his side, manifested equal 
 uneasiness, by snuffing the air, whining, and rubbing him- 
 self frequently against his master's legs. 
 
 "Friends," he cried abruptly, "Peter talks too plainly to 
 be mistaken ; there is mischief nigh at hand, though where 
 or how it can be, sinner and weak foolish man that I am, 
 I know not; we must leave warm fires and soft beds, and 
 take refuge again in the woods." 
 
 This unexpected announcement again banished the blood 
 from Edith's cheeks. She had, on his entrance, caught the 
 pouch of corn from Eoland's hands, intending to present 
 it to the guide, with some such light expressions as should 
 convince her kinsman of her recovered spirits; but the 
 visage and the words of Nathan struck her dumb, and she 
 stood holding it in her hand, without speaking a word, until 
 it caught Nathan's eye. He snatched it from her grasp, 
 surveying it with astonishment, and even alarm, and only 
 ceased to look at it when little Peter, who had run into the 
 corner and among the bed of leaves, uttered a whine louder 
 than before. The pouch dropped from Nathan's hand as 
 his eye fell upon the shining kettles, on which he gazed as 
 if petrified. 
 
 "Wliat, in heaven's name, is the matter ?" demanded Po- 
 land, himself taking the alarm; "are you frighted at your 
 own kettles ?" 
 
 "Mine !" cried Nathan, clasping his hands, and looking 
 terror and remorse together — 'If thee will kill me, friend, 
 thee will scarce do amiss; for, miserable, blind sinner that 
 I am, I have led thee poor luckless women into the very 
 lion's den ! into the hiding-place and headquarters of the 
 very cut-throats that is seeking to destroy thee ! Up and 
 away — does thee not hear Peter howling at the door ? Hist ! 
 Peter, hist! Truly this is a pretty piece of business for 
 thee, Nathan Slaughter ! Does thee not hear them close at 
 hand ?" 
 
 "I hear the hooting of an owl, and the answer of his fel- 
 low," replied Poland, but his words were cut short by a 
 second howl from Peter, and the cry of his master, "Up, 
 
Snatching Edith up as if she had been a feather, Nathan was 
 brought to a stand as his eyes fell upon a naked Indian in the 
 doorway. Page 145. Nick of the Woods 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 145 
 
 if thee be not besotted ; drag thee women by the hands and 
 follow me." 
 
 With these words, Nathan was leaping towards the door, 
 when a cry from Eoland arrested him. He looked round, 
 and perceived Edith had fainted in the soldier's arms. "I 
 will save the poor thing for thee — help thou the other," he 
 cried, and snatching her up as if she had been but a 
 feather, he was again in the act of springing to the door, 
 when brought to a stand by a far more exciting impedi- 
 ment. A shriek from Telie Doe, uttered in sudden terror, 
 was echoed by a laugh, strangely wild, harsh, guttural, and 
 expressive of equal triumph and derision, coming from the 
 door, looking to which, the eyes of Nathan and the soldier 
 fell upon a tall and naked Indian, shorn and painted, who, 
 rifle in hand, the grim smile yet writhing on his features, 
 and exclaiming with a mockery of friendly accost, "Bo- 
 zhoo* brudders — Injun good friend!" was stepping that 
 moment into the hovel ; and as if that spectacle and those 
 sounds were not enough to chill the heart of the spectators, 
 there were seen over his shoulders the gleaming eyes, and 
 heard behind his back the malign laughter of three or four 
 equally wild and ferocious companions. 
 
 "To the door, if thee is a man, — rush !" cried Nathan, 
 with a voice more like the blast of a bugle than the tone 
 of a frighted man of peace, and casting Edith from his 
 arms, he set the example of attack or flight — Eoland 
 scarcely knew which — by leaping against the breast of the 
 daring intruder. Both fell together across the threshold, 
 and Eoland, obeying the call with desperate and frantic 
 ardor, stumbled over their bodies, pitching headlong into 
 the passage, whereby he escaped the certain death that 
 otherwise awaited him, three several rifle shots having been 
 that instant poured upon him from a distance of scarce as 
 many feet. 
 
 *Bo-zhoo,- — a corruption of the French bon jour, a word of 
 salutation adopted by Western Indians from the Voyageurs of 
 Canada, and used by them with great zeal by night as well as 
 by day. 
 
l-ifi NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "Strike, if thee conscience permits thee!" he heard the 
 voice of Nathan cry in his ears, and the next moment a 
 shot from the interior of the hovel, heralded by a quivering 
 cry from the faithful Emperor — "Lorra-gor ! nebber harm 
 an Injun in my life !" struck the hatchet from the shattered 
 hand of a foeman, who had taken advantage of his down- 
 fall to aim a fatal blow at him while rising. A yell of 
 pain came from the maimed and baffled warrior, who 
 springing over the blackened ruins before the door, escaped 
 the stroke of the clubbed rifle which the soldier aimed at 
 him in return, the piece having been discharged by the 
 fall. The cry of the flying assailant was echoed by what 
 seemed in Eoland's ears the yells of fifty supporters, two of 
 whom he saw within six feet of him, brandishing their 
 hatchets, as if in the act of flinging them at his almost de- 
 fenceless person. It was at this moment that he experi- 
 enced aid from a quarter whence it was almost least ex- 
 pected ; a rifle was discharged from the ravine, and as one 
 of the fierce foes suddenly dropped, mortally wounded upon 
 the floor, he heard the voice of Pardon, the Yankee, cry- 
 ing, in tones of desperation, "When there's no dodging 'em, 
 then I'm the man for 'em, or it a'n't no matter !" 
 
 "Bravo ! bravely done. Emperor and Dodge both !" cried 
 Eoland, to whom this happy and quite unexpected display 
 of courage from his followers, and its successful results, 
 imparted a degree of assurance and hope not before felt; 
 for, indeed, up to this moment, his feeling had been the 
 mere frenzy of despair, "courage, and rush on !" And with 
 these words he did not hesitate to dash against the remain- 
 ing foe, striking up the uplifted hatchet with his rifle, and 
 endeavoring with the same effort to dash his weapon into 
 the warrior's face. But the former part only of the 
 manoeuvre succeeded; the tomahawk was indeed dashed 
 aside, but the rifle was torn from his own grasp, and the 
 next moment he was clutched as in the embrace of a bear, 
 and pressed with suffocating force upon the breast of his 
 undaunted adversary. 
 
 "Brudder !" growled the savage, and the form flew from 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 14^ 
 
 his grinning lips, advanced until they were almost in con- 
 tact with the soldier's face, "Brudder !" he cried, as he felt 
 his triumph, and twined his arms still more tightly 
 around Roland's frame, "Long-knife nothing ! hab a scalp, 
 Shawnee !" 
 
 With these words he sprang from the broken floor of the 
 passage, on which the encounter began, and dragging the 
 soldier along, made as if he would have carried him off 
 alive. But although in the grasp of a man of much su- 
 perior strength, the resolution and activity of Eoland pre- 
 served him from a destiny at once so fearful and ignoble. 
 He exerted the strength he possessed at the instant when 
 the bulky captor was springing from the floor to the 
 broken ground beneath, and with such effect that, though 
 it did not entirely release him from his grasp, it carried 
 them headlong to the earth together ; whence, after a brief 
 and blind struggle, both rose together, each clutching at 
 the weapon that promised soonest to terminate the contest. 
 
 The pistol of the soldier, which, as well as Emperor's, the 
 peaceful Nathan had taken the precaution to carry with 
 him into the ruin, had been forgotten in the suddenness 
 and hurry of the assault, his rifle had been wrested from his 
 hands, and thrown he knew not where. The knife, which, 
 like a true adventurer of the forest, he had buckled in his 
 belt, was ready to be grasped ; but the instinct of long habits 
 carried his hand to the broad-sword, which was yet strapped 
 to his thigh; and this, as he rose, he attempted to draw, 
 not doubting that a single blow from the trusty steel would 
 rid him of his brown enemy. But the Shavmee, as bold 
 as alert, and far more discreet, better acquainted too with 
 those savage personal rencontres which make up so large 
 a portion of Indian warfare, had drawn his knife before 
 he had yet regained his footing; and before the Virginia's 
 sword was half unsheathed, the hand that tugged at it 
 was again seized and held as in a vise, while the warrior, 
 elevating his own free weapon above his head, prepared, 
 with a laugh and whoop of triumph to plunge it into the 
 soldier's throat. His countenance, grim with war-paint, 
 
148 NiOK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 grimmer still with ferocious exultation, was distinctly per- 
 ceived, the bright blaze of the fire shining through the 
 gaps of the hovel, so as to illuminate every feature; and 
 Eoland, as he strove in vain to clutch at the uplifted arm 
 so as to avert the threatened blow, could distinguish every 
 motion of the weapon and every change of his foeman's 
 visage. 
 
 But he did not even then despair, for he was in all cir- 
 cumstances afEecting only himself a man of true intrepid- 
 ity; and it was only when, on a sudden, the light wholly 
 vanished from the hovel, as if the brands had been scat- 
 tered and trodden out, that he began to anticipate a fatal 
 result from the advantage possessed by his opponent. But 
 at that very instant, and while blinded by the sudden dark- 
 ness, he was expecting the blow 'which he no longer knew 
 how to avoid, the laugh of the warrior, now louder and 
 more exultant than before, was suddenly changed to a 
 yell of agony. A jet of warm blood, at the same moment, 
 gushed over Eoland's right arm; and the savage, struck 
 by an unknown hand, or by a random ball, fell a dead man 
 at his feet, overwhelming the soldier in his fall. 
 
 "Up, and do according to thee conscience !" cried Nathan 
 Slaughter, whose friendly arm, more nervous than that of 
 his late foe, at this conjunction jerked Eoland from beneath 
 the body ; "for, truly, thee fights like unto a young lion, or 
 an old bear; and, truly, I will not censure thee, if thee 
 kills a whole dozen of the wicked cut-throats! Here is 
 thee gun and thee pistols; fire and shout aloud with thee 
 voice; for, of a verity, thee enemies is confounded by thee 
 resolution; do thee make them believe thee has been rein- 
 forced by numbers." 
 
 And with that the peaceful Nathan, uplifting his voice, 
 and springing among the ruins from log to log, began to 
 utter a series of shouts, all designed to appear as if coming 
 from different throats, and all expressing such manly cour- 
 age and defiance, that even Pardon Dodge, who yet lay 
 ensconced among the rocks of the ravine, and Emperor, 
 the negro, who, it seems, had taken post behind the ruins 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 1^9 
 
 at the door, felt their spirits wax resolute and valiant, and 
 added their voices to the din, the one roaring, "Come on, 
 ye 'tarnal critturs, if you mtist come !" while the other 
 hellowed, with equal spirit, "Don't care for niggah Injun 
 no way — will fight and die for massa and missie !" 
 
 All these several details, from the moment of the ap- 
 pearance of the warrior at the door until the loud shouts 
 of the besieged travellers, took the place of the savage 
 whoops previously sounded, passed in fewer moments than 
 we have taken pages to record them. The rush of Nathan 
 against the leader, the discomfiture of one, and the death 
 of his two other comrades, were indeed the work of but 
 an instant, as it seemed to Eoland ; and he was scarce aware 
 of the assault, before he perceived that it was over. The 
 successful, and, doubtless, the wholly unexpected resist- 
 ance of the little party, resulting in a manner so fatal to 
 the advanced guard of assailants, had struck terror and 
 confusion into the main body, whose presence had been only 
 made known by their yells, not a single shot having yet 
 been fired by them. 
 
 It was in this moment of confusion that Nathan sprang 
 to the side of Eoland, who was hastily recharging his piece, 
 and catching him by the hand, said, with a voice that be- 
 trayed the deepest agitation, though his countenance was 
 veiled in night, — "Friend, I have betrayed thee poor wo- 
 men into danger, so that the axe and scalping-knife is 
 now near their innocent poor heads !" 
 
 "It needs not to speak of it," said Eoland, adding hastily, 
 "The miscreant that entered the cabin — did you kill him ?" 
 
 "Kill, friend! I kill!" echoed Nathan, with accents 
 more disturbed than ever; "would thee have me a mur- 
 derer? Truly, I did creep over him, and leave the 
 cabin " 
 
 "And left him in it alive !" cried Eoland, who was about 
 to rush into the hovel, when Nathan detained him, saying, 
 "Don't thee be alarmed, friend. Truly thee may think it 
 was ill of me to fall upon him so violently; but, truly, 
 he must have split his head on a log, or wounded himself 
 
150 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 with a splinter; or perhaps the colored person struck him 
 with a knife ; but, truly, as it happened, his blood spouted 
 on my hand, by reason of the hurt he got, so that I left 
 him clean dead." 
 
 "Good !" said Eoland ; 'but, by heaven, I hoped and be- 
 lieved you had yourself finished him like a man. But 
 time presses; we must retreat again to the woods — they 
 are yet open behind us." 
 
 "Thee is mistaken," said Nathan, and, as if to confirm 
 his words, there arose at that instant a loud whooping, with 
 the crack of a dozen or more rifles, let fly with impotent 
 rage by the enemy, showing plainly enough that the ruin 
 was already actually environed. 
 
 "The ravine — ^the river !" cried Forrester ; "we can swim 
 it with the horses, if it be not fordable." 
 
 "It is a torrent that would sweep thee, with thee strong- 
 est war-horse, to perdition," muttered Nathan; "does thee 
 not hear how it roars among the rocks and cliffs? It is 
 here deep, narrow, and rocky; and though in the season of 
 drought, a child might step across it from rock to rock, it 
 is a cataract in the time of floods. No, friend, I have 
 brought thee into a trap whence thee has no escape, unless 
 thee would desert thee poor helpless women." 
 
 "Put but them in safety," said Eoland, "and I care not 
 for the rest. And yet I do not despair; we have shown 
 what we can do by resolation ; we can keep the cut-throats 
 at bay till the morning." 
 
 "And what will that advantage thee, except to see thee 
 poor females murdered in the light of the sun, instead of 
 having them killed, out of thee sight in darkness ? Truly, 
 the first glimmer in dawn will be the signal of death to all ; 
 for then the Shawnees will find thee weakness, if indeed 
 they do not find it before." 
 
 "Man !" said Eoland, "why should you drive me to de-. 
 spair? Give me better comfort — give me counsel, or say 
 no more. You have brought us to this pass ; do your best 
 to save us, or our blood be upon your head." 
 
 To these words of unjust reproach, wrung from the 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 151 
 
 young soldier by the bitterness of his feelings, Nathan 
 at first made no reply. Preserving silence for awhile, he 
 said, at last: — 
 
 "Well, friend, I counsel thee to be of good heart, and to 
 do what thee can, making thee enemies, since thee cannot 
 increase thee friends, as few in numbers as possible; to do 
 which, friend," he added, suddenly, "if thee will shoot 
 that evil creature that lies like a log on the earth, creeping 
 towards the ruin, I will have no objection." 
 
 With these words, which were uttered in a low voice, 
 Nathan, pulling the young man behind a screen of fallen 
 timbers near to which they stood, endeavored to point him 
 out the enemy whom his eye had that moment detected 
 crawling towards the hovel with the subtle motion of a 
 serpent. But the vision of Eoland, not yet accustomed to 
 trace objects in the darkness of a wood, failed to discover 
 the approaching foe. 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, somewhat impatiently, "if thee 
 will not consider it as an evil thing of me, and a blood- 
 guiltiness, I will hold thee gun for thee, and thee shall 
 pull the trigger!" — which piece of service the man of 
 peace, having doubtless satisfied his conscience of its law- 
 fulness, was actually about to render the soldier, when the 
 good intention was set at naught by the savage suddenly 
 leaping to his feet, followed by a dozen others, all spring- 
 ing, as it seemed, out of the earth, and rushing with wild 
 yells against the ruin. The suddenness and fury of the 
 attack struck dismay to the bosom of the soldier, who dis- 
 charging his rifle, and snatching up his pistols, already in 
 imagination beheld the bloody fingers of a barbarian 
 grasped among the bright locks of his Edith ; when Nathan, 
 crying, "Blood upon my hands, but not upon my head ! — ■ 
 give it to them, murdering dogs!" let fiy his own piece 
 upon the throng; the effect of which, together with the 
 discharge of Eoland's pistols immediately after, was such 
 as to stagger the assailants, of whom but a single one pre- 
 served resolution enough to advance upon the defenders, 
 whooping to his companions in vkin to follow. 
 
153 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 "Thee will remember I fight to save the lives of thee 
 helpless women!" muttered Nathan in Eoland's ear; and 
 then, as if the first act of warfare had released him for 
 ever from all peaceful obligations, awoke a courage and 
 appetite for blood superior even to the soldier's, and in 
 other words, set him entirely beside himself, he rushed 
 against the advancing Shawnee, dealing him a blow with 
 the butt of his heavy-stocked rifle that crushed through 
 skull and brain as through a gourd, killing the man on the 
 spot. Then, leaping like a buck to avoid the shot of the 
 others, he rushed back to the ruin, and grasping the hand 
 of the admiring soldier, and wringing it with all his 
 might, he cried, "Thee sees what thee has brought me to ! 
 Priend, thee has seen me shed a man's blood ! But, never- 
 theless, friend, the villains shall not kill thee poor women, 
 nor harm a hair of their heads." 
 
 The valor of the man of peace was fortunately seconded 
 on this occasion by Dodge and the negro, the former from 
 his hiding place in the ravine, the latter from among the 
 ruins; and the enemy, thus seriously warned of the dan- 
 ger of approaching too nigh a fortress manned by what very 
 naturally appeared to them eight different persons — for 
 such, including the pistols, was the number of fire-arms — ■ 
 retired precipitately to the woods, where they espressed 
 their hostility only by occasional whoops, and now and 
 then by a shot fired impotently against the ruins. 
 
 The success of this second defence, the spirited behavior 
 of Dodge and Emperor, but more than all the happy change 
 in the principles and practice of Nathan, who seemed as 
 if about to prove that he could deserve the nickname of 
 Bloody, so long bestowed upon him in derision, greatly 
 relieved the spirits of the soldier, who was not without 
 hopes of being able to maintain the contest until the 
 enemy should be discouraged and driven off, or some provi- 
 dential accident bring him succor. 
 
 He took advantage of the cessation of hostilities to creep 
 into the hovel and whisper words of assurance to his fee- 
 bler dependants, of whom indeed Telle Doe now betrayed 
 
NICK or THE WOODS. 153 
 
 the greatest distress and agitation, while Edith on the con- 
 trary maintained, as he judged — for the fire was extin- 
 guished, and he saw not her countenance — a degree of 
 tranquillity he had not dared to hope. It was a tran- 
 quillity, however, resulting from despair and stupor — 
 a lethargy of spirit resulting from over-wrought feelings, 
 in which she happily remained, more than half uncon- 
 scious of what was passing around her. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 Why thou wert better in thy grave, than to answer this ex- 
 tremity. — Lea/r. 
 
 The enemy, twice repulsed, and on hoth occasions with 
 severe loss, had been taught the folly of exposing them- 
 selves too freely to the fire of the travellers; but, al- 
 though driven back, they manifested little inclination to 
 fly further than was necessary to obtain shelter, and as 
 little to give over their fierce purposes. Concealing them- 
 selves severally behind logs, rocks, and bushes, and so dis- 
 posing their force as to form a line around the ruin, open 
 only towards the river, where escape was obviously imprac- 
 ticable, they employed themselves in keeping a strict watch 
 upon the hovel, firing repeated volleys, and as often utter- 
 ing yells, with which they sought to strike terror into the 
 hearts of the travellers. 
 
 Occasionally some single warrior, bolder than the rest, 
 would creep near the ruins, and obtaining such shelter as 
 he could, discharge his piece at any mouldering beam, or 
 other object, which his fancy converted into the exposed 
 body of a defender. But the travellers had taken good 
 care to establish themselves in such positions among the 
 ruins as offered the best protection ; and although the bul- 
 lets whistled sharp and nigh, not a single one had yet re- 
 
154 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 ceived a wound; nor was there nrnch reason to apprehend 
 injury, so long as the darkness of night befriended them. 
 
 Yet it was obvious to all that this state of security could 
 not last long, and that it existed only because the enemy 
 was not yet aware of his advantage. The condition of the 
 ruins was such, that a dozen men of sufficient spirit, divid- 
 ing themselves, and creeping along the earth, might at any 
 moment make their way to any and every part of the 
 hovel without being seen, when a single rush must put it 
 in their power. An open assault, indeed, from the whole 
 body of besiegers, whose number was reckoned by Kathan 
 at full fifteen or twenty, must have produced the same 
 success, though with the loss of several lives. A random 
 shot might at any moment destroy or disable one of the 
 little garrison, and thus rob one important corner of the 
 hovel, which, from its dilapidated state, was wholly in- 
 defensible from within of defence. It was, indeed, as 
 Roland felt, more than folly to hope that all should escape 
 toharmed for many hours longer. 
 
 But the worst fear of all was that previously suggested 
 by Nathan : — all might survive the perils of the night ; but 
 What fate was to be expected when the coming day should 
 expose the party, in all its true weakness, to the eyes of 
 the enemy? If relief came not before morning, Roland's 
 heart whispered him it must come in vain. But the prob- 
 abilities of relief — what were they? The question was 
 asked of Nathan, and the answer went like iron through 
 Roland's soul. They were in the deepest and most solitary 
 part of the forest, twelve miles from Bruce's station, and 
 at least eight from that at which the emigrants were to 
 lodge ; with no other places within twice the distance from 
 which help could be obtained. They had left, three or 
 four miles behind them, the main and only road on which 
 volunteers, summoned from the western stations to repel 
 the invasion, of which the news had arrived before Ro- 
 land's departure from Bruce's village, could be expected 
 to pass ; if, indeed, the strong force of the enemy posted at 
 the Upper Ford had not cut off all conununication between 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 155 
 
 the two districts. From Bruce's station little or no assist- 
 ance could be hoped, the entire strength of its garrison, as 
 Roland well knew, having long since departed to share in 
 the struggle on the north side of Kentucky. Assistance 
 could be looked for only from his late companions, the 
 emigrants, from whom he had parted in an evil hour. But 
 how were they to be made acquainted with his situation ? 
 
 The discussion of these questions almost distracted the 
 young man. Help could only come from themselves. 
 Would it not be possible to cut their way through besiegers ? 
 He proposed a thousand wild schemes of escape; now he 
 would mount his trusty steed, and dashing among the 
 enemy, receive their fire, distract their attention, and per- 
 haps draw them in pursuit, while Nathan and the others 
 galloped off with the women in another quarter ; and again, 
 he would plunge with them into the boiling torrent below, 
 trusting to the strength of the horses to carry them through 
 in safety. 
 
 To these and other wild proposals, uttered in the inter- 
 vals of combat, which was still maintained, with occasional 
 demonstrations on the part of the enemy advancing to a 
 third assault, Nathan replied only by representing the cer- 
 tain death they would bring upon all, especially the "poor 
 helpless women ;" whose condition, with the reflection that 
 he had brought them into it, seemed ever to dwell upon 
 his mind, producing feelings of remorseful excitement not 
 inferior even to the compunctions which he expressed at 
 every shot discharged by him at the foe. Indeed his con- 
 science seemed sorely distressed and perplexed; now he 
 upbraided himself with being the murderer of the two 
 poor women, and now of his Shawnee fellow-creatures ; now 
 he wrung the soldier by the hand, begging him to bear wit- 
 ness that he was shedding blood, not out of malice or wan- 
 tonness, or even self-defence, but purely to save the inno- 
 cent scalps of poor women, whose blood would be other- 
 wise on his head ; and now beseeching the young man with 
 equal fervor to let the world know of his doings, that the 
 blame might fall, not upon the faith of which he was an 
 
156 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 unworthy professor, but upon him, the evil-doer and back- 
 slider. But, with all his remorse and contrition, he mani- 
 fested no inclination to give over the work of fighting ; but, 
 on the contrary, fired away with extreme good- will at every 
 evil Shawnee creature that showed himself, encouraging 
 Koland to do the same, exhibiting throughout the whole 
 contest the most exemplary courage and good conduct. 
 
 But courage and good conduct, although so unexpectedly 
 manifested in time of need by all his companions, Eoland 
 felt, could only serve to defer for a few hours the fate of 
 his party. The night wore away fast — the assailants grew 
 bolder; and from the louder yells and more frequent shots 
 coming from them, it seemed as if their numbers, instead 
 of diminishing under his own fire, were gradually increas- 
 ing, by the dropping in of their scouts from the forest. At 
 the same time, he became sensible that his stores of am- 
 munition were fast decreasing. 
 
 "Friend !" said Nathan, wringing the soldier's hand for 
 the twentieth time, when made acquainted with the de- 
 ficiency, "it is written, that thee women shall be murdered 
 before thee eyes ! Nevertheless, I will do my best to save 
 them. Friend, I must leave thee ! Thee shall have as- 
 sistance. Can thee hold out the hovel till morning? But 
 it is foolish to ask thee; thee nmst hold it out; and with 
 none, save the colored person and the man Dodge, to help 
 thee; for I say to thee, it has come to this at last, as I 
 thought it would, — I must break through the lines of thee 
 Injun foes, and find thee assistance." 
 
 "Oh, if you could !" said Eoland, grasping at the hope ; 
 "but how to pass them in safety ? Hark you, man, we can, 
 by a show of attack on our own part, draw a fire from the 
 villains ; and then a horseman as familiar as yourself with 
 the woods, might dash through and effect his escape. We 
 will do this ; you shall have the best horse, — Briareus him- 
 self ; worn and exhausted as he is, he will bear you off at 
 the top of his sp'eed, and fall dead before he attempts to 
 slacken it. With him, you can reach the emigrants in 
 half an hourj and then — then, hea,veii be praised! you will 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 157 
 
 find men brave and true, who will follow you as quickly to 
 the rescue." 
 
 "It would be the better for thee poor women," replied 
 Nathan, "if I had a fleet horse to bear me on the way 
 faster than I can run on my own legs; but, truly, friend, 
 the riding away of a man on horseback through this crew 
 of murdering Injuns is no such safe matter as thee thinks, 
 where there are knives and axes, as well as rifle-bullets; 
 and it would, besides, be the ruin of thee and thee poor 
 women, as showing the lessening of thee numbers, and the 
 fear that was on thee spirit. Of a truth, what I do must 
 be done in secret; thee enemies must not know it. I must 
 creep among them, friend, and make my way on foot." 
 
 "It is impossible," said Eoland, in despair; "you will 
 only provoke your destruction." 
 
 "It may be, friend, as thee says," responded Nathan; 
 "nevertheless, friend, for thee women's sake, I will adven- 
 ture it; for it is I, miserable sinner that I am, that have 
 brought them to this pass, and that must bring them out 
 of it again, if man can do it. If I succeed, and thee friends 
 is the men thee says, truly, then I shall save thee life and 
 the lives of all; if I fail, then, friend, I shall not see the 
 sight I have seen before, — the death of innocent, helpless 
 women under the Injun scalping-knife. Friend, I tell 
 thee," he continued, "I must creep through thee foes ; and 
 with heaven's help and little Peter's, truly it may be that 
 I shall creep through them successfully." 
 
 At a moment of less grief and desperation, Eoland would 
 have better appreciated the magnitude of the service which 
 Nathan thus offered to attempt, and even hesitated to per- 
 mit what must have manifestly seemed the throwing away 
 of a human life. But the emergency was too great to allow 
 the operation of any but selfish feelings. The existence 
 of his companions, the life of his Edith, depended upon 
 procuring relief, and this could be obtained in no other 
 way. If the undertaking was so dangerous in the ex- 
 treme, he saw it with the eyes of a soldier as well as a lover ! 
 It was ft f^ftt be himself would have dared without besita- 
 
158 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 tion, could it have promised, in his hands, any relief to 
 his followers. 
 
 "Go, then, and God be with you," he muttered, eagerly: 
 "you have our lives in your hand. But it will be long, 
 long before you can reach the band on foot. Yet do not 
 weary or pause by the way. I have but little wealth, — but 
 with what I have, I will reward you." 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, proudly, "what I do, I do for 
 no lucre of reward, but for pity of thee poor women; for, 
 truly, I have seen the murdering and scalping of poor wo- 
 men before, and the seeing of the same has left blood upon 
 my head, which is a mournful thing to think of." 
 
 "Well, be not offended ; do what you can, — our lives may 
 rest on a single minute." 
 
 'I mil do what I can, friend," replied Nathan; "and if 
 I can but pass safely through thee foes, there is scarce a 
 horse in thee company, were it even thee war-horse, that 
 shall run to thee friends more fleetly. But, friend, do thee 
 hold out the house; use thee powder charily; keep up the 
 spirits of thee two men; and be of good heart theeself, 
 fighting valiantly, and slaying according to thee conscience ; 
 and then, friend, if it be heaven's will, I will return to 
 thee and help thee out of all thee troubles." 
 
 With these words of encouragement, Nathan immediately 
 prepared for the undertaking, desperate as it seemed, of 
 making his way through the lines of the enemy. His prep- 
 arations were few and easily made, and consisted prin- 
 cipally of disburthening himself of his powder and ball, 
 which he gave to Eoland to be divided among the three 
 remaining combatants; in drawing up the skirts of his 
 leather coat, which he belted round his waist in such way as 
 to leave his legs free for the peculiar duty to which they 
 were to be put, and summoning to his side little Peter, 
 whom he had taken the earliest opportunity to stow away 
 in a safe place among the ruins, where he had quietly re- 
 mained ever since — for, as Nathan said, "Little Peter's 
 good qualities was, not in fighting, but in taking care of 
 bis master." Hip rifle, although he had robbed himself of 
 
mCK OF THE WOODS. 159 
 
 ammunition, leaving but a single charge in his horn and 
 pouch, Nathan obstinately insisted on retaining and carry- 
 ing with him, however much it might encumber him in his 
 flight; and with this poised in his hand, his knife trans- 
 ferred from his belt to his breast, where it was ready to be 
 grasped at a moment's warning, and little Peter crouched 
 upon the earth before him to guide the way, he prepared to 
 execute his bold purpose, with an alacrity that awoke some- 
 thing like suspicion in Eoland's bosom. 
 
 "If you fail me, man," he muttered, with some agitation, 
 as he pondered upon the effects of such defection, "if you 
 have devised this undertaking only to effect your own es- 
 cape, deserting me, deserting my friends, whom you leave 
 in such extremity, abandoned to our fate, — may heaven fail 
 you in like manner, and that in the time of your greatest 
 need !" 
 
 "If thee knew what it was to creep through a camp of 
 warring Shawnees," said Nathan, with great equanimity, 
 "thee would allow that the cowardly and betraying man 
 would look for some safer way of escape. Do thee but be 
 true to theeself and thee women as I will, and it may be 
 that all shall yet escape unharmed. Farewell, friend," he 
 continued, grasping Eoland's hand, and grasping it as one 
 who meditated the mean and cowardly desertion which Eo- 
 land had imputed to him, could never have done; "if I 
 fall, I shall not hear the last shriek of thee murdered wo- 
 men; if I live, and thee can make good thee defence tiU 
 morning, neither shalt thou." 
 
 With these words, Nathan turned from the soldier, set- 
 ting out upon his dangerous duty with a courage and self- 
 devotion of which. Eoland did not yet know all the merit. 
 He threw himself upon the earth, and muttering to little 
 Peter, "Now, Peter, as thee ever served thee master well 
 and truly, serve him well and truly now," began to glide 
 away among the ruins, making his way from log to log 
 and bush to bush close behind the animal, who seemed to 
 determine the period and direction of every movement. 
 
 His course was down the river, the opposite of that by 
 
160 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 which the party had reached the ruin, in which quarter the 
 woods were highest, and promised the most accessible, as 
 well as the best shelter ; though that could be reached only 
 in the event of his successfully avoiding the different bar- 
 barians hidden among the bushes on its border. 
 
 He soon vanished, with his dog, from the eyes of the sol- 
 dier; who now, in pursuance of instructions previously 
 given him by Nathan, caused his followers to let fly a 
 YoUey among the trees, which had the expected efEect of 
 drawing another in return from the foes, accompanied by 
 their loudest whoops of menace and defiance. In this man- 
 ner Nathan, as he drew nigh the wood, was enabled to form 
 correct opinions as to the different positions of the be- 
 siegers, and to select that point in the line which seemed 
 the weakest; while the attention of the foe was in a meas- 
 ure drawn off, so as to give him the better opportunity of 
 advancing on them unobserved. With this object in view, 
 a second and third volley were fired by the little garrison; 
 after which they ceased making such feints of hostility, and 
 left him, as he had directed, to his fate. 
 
 It was then that, with a beating heart, Eoland awaited 
 the event, and, as he began to figure to his imagination the 
 perils which Nathan must necessarily encounter in the 
 undertaking, he listened for the shout of triumph that he 
 feared would, each moment, proclaim the capture or death 
 of his messenger. But he listened in vain, at least, in 
 vain for such sounds as his skill might interpret into evi- 
 dences of Nathan's fate; he heard nothing but the oc- 
 casional crack of a rifle aimed at the ruin, with the yell 
 of the savage that fired it, the rush of the breeze, the 
 rumbling of the thunder, and the deep-toned echoes from 
 the river below. Nothing whatever occurred, at least for 
 a quarter of an hour, by which he might judge what was 
 the issue of the enterprise; and he was beginning to in- 
 dulge the hope that Nathan had passed safely through the 
 besiegers, when a sudden yell of a peculiarly wild and 
 thrilling character, was uttered in the wood in the quarter 
 in which Nathan had fled; and this exciting, as it seemed 
 
NICK OF THE TVOODS, 161 
 
 to do, a prodigious sensation among his foes, filled him 
 with anxiety and dread. To his ears the shout expressed 
 fury and exultation, such as might well be felt at the sud- 
 den discovery and capture of the luckless messenger; and 
 his fear that such had been the end of Nathan's under- 
 taking was greatly increased by what followed. The shots 
 and whoops suddenly ceased, and, for ten minutes or more, 
 all was silent, save the roar of the river and the whispering 
 of the fitful breeze. 
 
 "They have taken him alive, poor wretch !" muttered the 
 soldier, "and now they are forcing from him a confession 
 of our weakness !" 
 
 It seemed as if there might be some foundation for the 
 suspicion; for presently a great shout burst from the 
 enemy, and the next moment a rush was made against the 
 ruin as if by the whole force of the enemy. "Fire !" 
 shouted Roland to his companions ; "if we must die, let it 
 be like men ;" and no sooner did he behold the dark figures 
 of the assailants leaping among the ruins, than he dis- 
 charged his rifie and a pair of pistols which he had re- 
 served in his own hands, the other pair having been divided 
 between Dodge and the negro, who used them with equal 
 resolution, and with an effect that Roland had not antic- 
 ipated; the assailants, apparently daunted by the weight 
 of the volley, seven pieces having been discharged in rapid 
 succession, instantly beat a retreat, resuming their former 
 positions. From these, however, they now maintained an 
 almost incessant fire ; and by and by several of them, steal- 
 ing cautiously up, effected a lodgment in a distant part of 
 the ruins, whence, without betraying any special desire to 
 come to closer quarters, they began to carry on the war in 
 a manner that greatly increased Roland's alarm, their bul- 
 lets flying about and into the hovel so thickly, that he 
 became afraid lest some of them should reach its hapless 
 inhabitants. 
 
 He was already debating within himself the propriety of 
 transferring Edith and her companion from this ruinous 
 and now dangerous abode to the ravine, where they might 
 
162 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 be sheltered from all danger, at least for a time, when a 
 bolt of lightning, as he at first thought it, shot from the 
 nearest group of foes, flashed over his head, and striking 
 what remained of the roof, stood trembling in it, an arrow 
 of blazing fire. 
 
 The appearance of this missile, followed, as it imme- 
 diately was, by several others, discharged from the same 
 bow, confirmed the soldier's resolution to remove the fe- 
 males, while it greatly increased his anxiety; for although 
 there was little fear that the flames could be communi- 
 cated from the arrows to the roof so deeply saturated by 
 the late rains, yet each, while burning, served like a flam- 
 beau, tc illuminate the ruins below, and must be expected 
 before long to reveal the helplessness of the party, and to 
 light the besiegers to their prey. 
 
 With such fear on his mind, he hesitated no longer to 
 remove his cousin and her companion to the ravine, which 
 was effected with but little risk or difficulty; the ravine 
 heading, as was mentioned before, under the floor of the 
 hovel itself, and its borders being so strewn with broken 
 timbers and planks as to screen the party from observation. 
 He concealed them both among the rocks and brambles 
 with which the hollow abounded, listened a moment to 
 the rush of the flood as it swept the precipitous bank, and 
 the roar with which it seemed struggling among rocky ob- 
 structions above ; and smiling with the grim thought, that, 
 when resistance was no longer availing, there was yet a 
 refuge for his kinswoman within the dark bosom of those 
 troubled waters, to which he felt, with the stern resolution 
 of a Eoman father rather than of a Christian lover, that 
 he could, when nothing else remained, consign her with 
 his own hands, he returned to the ruins, to keep up the 
 appearance of still defending it, and to preserve the en- 
 trance of the ravine. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 163 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds. 
 That here come sacrifices! 
 
 — King John. 
 
 The flaming arrows were still shot in vain at the water- 
 soaked roof, and the combustibles with which they were 
 armed burning out very rapidly, produced but little of 
 that effect in illuminating the ruins which Eoland had 
 apprehended, and for which they had been perhaps in 
 part designed; and, in consequence, the savages soon 
 ceased to shoot them. A more useful ally to the besiegers 
 was promised in the moon, which was now rising over 
 the woods, and occasionally revealing her wan and wasted 
 crescent through gaps in the clouds. Waning in her last 
 quarter, and struggling amid banks of vapor, she yet re- 
 tained sufficient magnitude and lustre, when risen a few 
 more degrees, to dispel the almost sepulchral darkness that 
 had hitherto invested the ruins, and thus proved a more 
 effectual protection to the travellers than their own cour- 
 age. Of this Eoland was well aware, and he watched the 
 increasing light with sullen and gloomy forebodings, 
 though still exhorting his two supporters to hope and cour- 
 age, and setting them a constant example of vigilance and 
 resolution. 
 
 But neither hope nor courage, neither vigilance nor reso- 
 lution, availed to deprive the foe of the advantage he had 
 gained in effecting a lodgment among the ruins, where 
 four or five different warriors still maintained a hot fire 
 upon the hovel, doing, of course, little harm, as it was en- 
 tirely deserted, but threatening mischief enough when it 
 should fall into their hands — a catastrophe that was de- 
 ferred only in consequence of the extreme cautiousness with 
 which they now conducted hostilities, the travellers making 
 only a show of defending it, though sensible that it almost 
 entirely commanded the ravine. 
 
 It was now more than an hour and a half eince Nathan 
 
164 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 had departed, and Eoland was beginning himself to feel 
 the hope he encouraged in the others, that the man of peace 
 had actually succeeded in effecting his escape, and that the 
 wild whoop which he at first esteemed the evidence of his 
 capture or death, and the assault that followed it, had been 
 caused by some circumstance having no relation to Nathan 
 whatever — perhaps by the arrival of a reinforcement, whose 
 coming had infused new spirit into the breasts of the so 
 long-baffied assailants. 
 
 "If he have escaped," he muttered, "he must already be 
 near the camp — a strong man and a fleet runner might 
 reach it in an hour. In another hour — nay, perhaps in 
 half a hour, for there are good horses and bold hearts in 
 the band — I shall hear the rattle of their hoofs in the 
 wood, and the yells of these cursed bandits scattered like 
 dust under their footsteps. If I can but hold the ravine 
 for an hour! Thank heaven, the moon is a second time 
 lost in clouds, — ^the thunder is again rolling through the 
 sky ! A tempest now were better than the gales of Araby 
 — a thunder-gust were our salvation." 
 
 The wishes of the soldier seemed about to be fulfilled. 
 The clouds, which for half an hour had been breaking up, 
 again gathered, producing thicker darkness than before; 
 and heavy peals of thunder, heralded by pale sheets of 
 lightning, that threw a ghastly but insufficient light over 
 objects, were again heard rattling at a distance over the 
 woods. The fire of the savages began to slacken, and by 
 ■ and by entirely ceased. They waited, perhaps, for the mo- 
 ment when the increasing glare of the lightning should en- 
 able them better to distinguish between the broken tim- 
 bers, the objects of so many wasted volleys, and the crouch- 
 ing bodies of the defenders. 
 
 The soldier took advantage of this moment of tran- 
 quillity to descend to the river to quench his thirst, and to 
 bear back some of the liquid element to his waiting follow- 
 ers. While engaged in this duty, he cast his eyes upon the 
 scene, surveying with sullen interest the flood that cut off 
 bis escape from the fatal hovel. The mouth of the ravine 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 165 
 
 was wide, and scattered over with rocks and bushes, that 
 even projected for some little space into the water, the 
 latter vibrating up and down in a manner that proved the 
 strength and irregularity of the current. The river was 
 here bounded by frowning cliffs, from which, a furlong 
 or two above, had fallen huge blocks of stone that greatly 
 contracted its narrow channel ; and among these the swollen 
 waters surged and foamed with the greatest violence, pro- 
 ducing that hollow roar which was so much in keeping 
 with the solitude of the ruin, and so proper an accompani- 
 ment to the growling thunder and the wild yells of the war- 
 riors. Below these massive obstructions, and opposite the 
 mouth of the ravine, the channel had expanded into a pool, 
 in which the waters might have regained their tranquillity 
 and rolled along in peace, but for the presence of an island, 
 which, growing up in the centre of the expanse, consoli- 
 dated by the roots of a thousand sand willows and other 
 trees that delight in such humid soils, and, in times of 
 flood, covered by a raft of drift timber entangled among 
 its trees, presented a barrier, on either side of which the 
 current swept with speed and fury, though, as it seemed, 
 entirely unopposed by rocks. 
 
 In such a current, as Roland thought, there was nothing 
 unusually formidable; a daring swimmer might easily 
 make his way to the island opposite, where, if difficulties 
 were presented by the second channel, he might as easily 
 find shelter from enemies firing on him from the banks. 
 He gazed again on the island, which, viewed in the gloom, 
 revealed to his eyes only a mass of shadowy boughs, rest- 
 ing in peace and security. 
 
 His heart beat high with hope, and he was beginning to 
 debate the chances of success in an attempt to swim his 
 party across the channel on the horses, when a flash of 
 lightning, brighter than usual, disclosed the fancied island 
 a cluster of shaking tree-tops, whose trunks, as wel]*as the 
 soil that supported them, were buried fathoms deep in the 
 flood. At the same moment he heard, coming on a gust 
 that repelled and deadened for a time the louder tumult 
 
166 NICK 01^ THE WOODS. 
 
 from tlie rocks above, other roaring sounds, indicating the 
 existence of other rocky obstructions at the foot of the 
 island, among which, as he could now see, the same flash 
 having shown him the strength of the current in the centre 
 of the channel, the swimmer must be dashed who failed 
 to find footing on the island. 
 
 "We are imprisoned, indeed," he muttered, bitterly — 
 ''Heaven has deserted us." 
 
 As he uttered these repining words, stooping to dip the 
 canteen with which he was provided in the water, a little 
 canoe, darting forward with a velocity that seemed pro- 
 duced by the combined strength of the current and the 
 rower, shot suddenly among the rocks and bushes at the 
 entrance of the ravine, wedging itself fast among them, 
 and a human figure leaped from it to the shore. The sol- 
 dier started back aghast, as if from a dweller of another 
 world; but recovering his courage in an instant, and not 
 doubting that he beheld in the unexpected visitor a Shaw- 
 nee and foe, who had thus found means of assailing his 
 party on the rear, he rushed upon the stranger with drawn 
 sword, for he had laid his rifle aside, and taking him at a 
 disadvantage, while stooping to drag the boat further 
 ashore, he smote him such a blow over the head as brought 
 him instantly to the ground, a dead man to all appearance, 
 since, while his body fell upon the earth, his head, or at 
 least a goodly portion of it, sliced away by the blow, — 
 went skimming into the water. 
 
 "Die, dog!" said Eoland, as he struck the blow; and 
 not content with that, he clapped his foot on the victim's 
 breast, to give him the coup-de-grace, when, wonder of 
 wonders, the supposed Shawnee and dead man opened his 
 lips, and cried aloud, in good choice Salt-river English — 
 "'Tarnal death to you, white man! what are you 
 atter?" 
 
 It was the voice, the never-to-be-forgotten voice, of the 
 captain of horse-thieves; and as Eoland's sword dropped 
 from his hand in surprise, up rose Eoaring Ealph himself, 
 bis eyes rolling, as Koland saw by a second flash of light- 
 
NICK OF THE •WOODS. 167 
 
 ning, with thrice their usual obliquity, his left hand 
 scratching among the locks of hair exposed by the blow of 
 the sabre, which had carried ofE a huge slice of his hat, 
 without doing other mischief, while his right brandished a 
 rifle, which he handled as if about to repay the favor with 
 interest. But the same flash that revealed his visage to 
 the astonished soldier, disclosed also Eoland's features to 
 him, and he fairly yelled with joy at the sight. 
 
 " 'Tarnal death to me !" he roared, first leaping into the 
 air and cracking his heels together, then snatching at Eo- 
 land's hand, which he clutched and twisted with the grip 
 of a bear, and then cracking his heels together again, 
 "'tarnal death to me, sodger, but I know'd it war yow 
 war in a squabbliflcation ! I heerd the cracking and the 
 squeaking ; ' 'Tarnal death to me !' says I, 'thar's Injuns !' 
 And then I thought, and says I, ' 'tamal death to me, who 
 are they atter ?' and then, 'tarnal death to me, it came over 
 me like a striek of lightning, and says I, ' 'tarnal death to 
 me, but it's anngelliferous madam that helped me out of 
 the halter!' Strannger!" he roared, executing another 
 demivolte, "h'yar am I, come to do anngelliferous madam's 
 fighting agin all critturs human and inhuman. Christian 
 and Injun, white, red, black, and party-colored. Show me 
 anngelliferous madam, and then show me the abbregynes ; 
 and if you ever seed fighting, 'tamal death to me, but 
 you'll say it war only the squabbling of seed-ticks and 
 blue-bottle flies ! I say, sodger, show me anngelliferous 
 madam ; you cut the halter and you cut the tug ; but it war 
 madam the anngel that set you on; wharfo', I'm her dog 
 and her niggur from now to etarnity, and I'm come to 
 fight for her, and lick her enemies till you shall see nothing 
 left of 'em but ha'rs and nails !" 
 
 Of these expressions, uttered with extreme volubility 
 and the most extravagant gestures, Eoland took no notice ; 
 his astonishment at the horse-thief's appearance was giv- 
 ing way to new thoughts and hopes, and he eagerly de- 
 manded of Balph how he had got there. 
 
168 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "In the dug-out/'* said Ealph; "found her floating 
 among the bushes, ax'd me out a flopperf with my tom- 
 axe in no time, jumped in, thought of anngelliferous 
 madam, and came down the falls like a cob in a corn van 
 — Arn't I the leaping trout of the waters? Strannger, I 
 don't want to sw'ar, but I reckon if there arn't hell up thar 
 among the big stones, thar's hell no other whar all about 
 Salt Eiver ! But I say, sodger, I came here not to talk nor 
 cavort,^ but to show that I'm the man, Ealph Stackpole, 
 to die dog for them that pats me. So whar's anngelliferous 
 madam? Let me see her, sodger, that I may feel wolfish 
 when I jumps among the red-skins; for I'm all for a 
 fight, and thar arn't no run in me." 
 
 "It is well, indeed, if it shall prove so," said Roland, not 
 without bitterness, "for it is to you alone we owe all our 
 misfortunes." 
 
 With these words, he led the way to the place where, 
 among the horses, concealed among brambles and stones, 
 lay the unfortunate females cowering on the bare earth. 
 The pale sheets of lightning, flashing now with greater 
 frequency, revealed them to Ealph's eyes, a ghastly and 
 melancholy pair, whose appearance were well fitted to 
 move the feelings of a manly bosom; Edith lying almost 
 insensible across Telie's knees, while the latter, weeping 
 bitterly, yet seemed striving to forget her own distresses 
 while ministering to those of her companion. 
 
 " 'Tarnal death to me !" cried Stackpole, looking upon 
 Edith's pallid visage and rayless eyes with more emotion 
 than would have been expected from his rude character, 
 or than was expressed in his uncouth phrases, "if that 
 don't make me eat a niggur, may I be tetotaciously chawed 
 up myself! Oh, you anngelliferous madam, jist look up 
 and say the word, for I'm now ready to mount a wild cat; 
 jist look up, and don't make a die of it, for thar's no oc- 
 
 *Dug-out — a canoe, because dug out, or hollowed with the 
 axe. 
 
 t Flapper — a flapper, a paddle. 
 
 if Cavort — tP f^^7 pranks, to gasconade, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 169 
 
 easion; for arn't I your niggur slave, Ralph Staekpole? 
 and arn't I come to lick all that's agin you, Mingo, Shaw- 
 nee, Delaware, and all? Oh, you anngelliferous erittur, 
 don't swound away, but look up, and see how I'll wallop 
 'em !" 
 
 And here the worthy horse-thief, seeing that his exhor- 
 tations produced no effect upon the apparently dying 
 Edith, dropped upon his knees, and began to blubber and 
 lament over her, as if overcome by his feelings, promising 
 her a world of Indian scalps, and a whole Salt-river full 
 of Shawnee blood, if she would only look up and see how 
 he went about it. 
 
 "Show your gratitude by actions, not by words," said 
 Roland, who, whatever his cause for disliking the zealous 
 Ealph, was not unrejoiced at his presence, as that of a 
 valuable auxiliary; "rise up, and tell me, in the name of 
 heaven, how you succeeded in reaching this place, and 
 what hope there is of leaving it !" 
 
 But Ealph was too much afiBicted with the wretched 
 condition of Edith, whom his gratitude for the life she 
 had bestowed had made the mistress paramount of his 
 soul, to give much heed to any one but herself ; and it was 
 only by dint of hard questioning that Roland drew from 
 him, little by little, an account of the causes which had 
 kept him in the vicinity of the travellers, and finally 
 brought him to the scene of combat. 
 
 It had been, it appeared, an eventful and unlucky day 
 with the horse-thief, as well as the soldier. Aside from 
 his adventure on the beech-tree, enough, in all truth, to 
 mark the day for him with a black stone, he had been pecul- 
 iarly unfortunate with the horses to which he had so un- 
 ceremoniously helped himself. The gallant Briareus, after 
 sundry trials of strength vrith his new master, had at last 
 succeeded in throwing him from his back; and the two- 
 year-old pony, after obeying him the whole day with the 
 docility of a dog, even when the halter was round his neck, 
 and carrying him in safety until within a few miles of 
 iJsqkgoB'g station, bad attempted the game exploit, and sue- 
 
I'i'O NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 eeeded, galloping off on the back-track towards his home. 
 This second loss was the more intolerable, since Stack- 
 pole, having endured the penalty for stealing him, con- 
 sidered himself as having a legal Lynch-like right to the 
 animal, which no one could now dispute. He therefore 
 returned in pursuit of the pony, until night arrested his 
 footsteps on the banks of the river, which, the waters still 
 rising, he did not care to cross in the dark. He had there- 
 fore built a fire by the roadside, intending to camp out 
 till morning. 
 
 "And it was your fire, then, that checked us ?" cried Eo- 
 land, at this part of the story, — "it was your light we took 
 for the watch fire of Indians ?" 
 
 "Injuns you may say," quoth Stackpole, innocently; 
 "for thar war a knot of 'em I seed sneaking over the ford ; 
 and jist as I was squinting a long aim at 'em, hoping I 
 might smash two of 'em at a lick, slam-bang goes a feller 
 that had got behind me, 'tarnal death to him, and roused 
 me out of my snuggery. Well, sodger, then I jumps into 
 the cane, and next into the timber; for I reckoned all In- 
 jun creation war atter me. And so I sticks fast in a lick ; 
 and then to sumtotalize, I wallops down a rock, eend fore- 
 most, like a bull-toad; and, 'tarnal death to me, while I 
 war scratching my head, and wondering whar I came from, 
 I heerd the crack of the guns across the river, and thought 
 of anngelliferous madam. 'Tarnal death to me, sodger, 
 it turned me wrong side out ! and while I war axing all 
 natur' how I war to get over, what should I do but see the 
 old sugar-trough floating in the bushes, — I seed her in a 
 strick of lightning. So pops I in, and paddles I down, till 
 I comes to the rocks — and arn't they beauties? 'H'yar 
 goes for grim death and massacreation,' says I, and tuck 
 the shoot ; and if I didn't fetch old dug-out through slicker 
 than snakes, and faster than a well-greased thunderbolt, 
 niggurs arn't niggurs, nor Injuns Injuns; and, strannger, 
 if you axes me why, h'yar's the wharfo' — 'twar because I 
 thought of anngelliferous madam ! Strannger, I am the 
 gentlemaii to see her out of a fight; and so jist tell her 
 
NICK OF THE 'WOODS. 1^1 
 
 thar's no occasion for being uneasy ; for, 'tarnal death to 
 me, I'll mount Shawnees, and die for her, jist like noth- 
 ing." 
 
 "Wretch that you are," cried Eoland, whose detestation 
 of the unlucky cause of his troubles revived by the dis- 
 covery that it was to his presence at the ford they owed 
 their last and most fatal disappointment, rendered him 
 somewhat insensible to the good feeling and courage which 
 had brought the grateful fellow to his assistance — "you 
 were born for our destruction; every way you have proved 
 our ruin; but for you, my poor kinswoman would have 
 been now in safety among her friends. Had she left you 
 hanging on the beech you would not have been on the 
 river, to cut off her only escape, when pursued close at 
 hand by murderous savages." 
 
 The reproach, now for the first time acquainting Stack- 
 pole with the injury he had, though so unintentionally and 
 innocently, inflicted upon his benefactress; and the sight 
 of her, lying apparently half dead at his feet, wrought up 
 the feelings of the worthy horse-thief to a pitch of desper- 
 ate compunction, mingled with fury. 
 
 "If I'm the crittur that helped her into the fix, I'm the 
 crittur to holp her out of it. 'Tarnal death to me, whar's 
 the Injuns ? H'yar goes to eat 'em !" 
 
 With that he uttered a yell, — the first human cry that 
 had been uttered for some time, for the assailants were 
 still resting on their arms, — and rushing up the ravine, as 
 if well acquainted with the localities of the station, he ran 
 to the ruin, repeating his cries at every step, with a loud- 
 ness and vigor of tone that soon drew a response from the 
 lurking enemy. 
 
 "H'yar, you 'tamal-temporal, long-legged, 'tater-headed 
 paint-faces !" he roared, leaping from the passage floor to 
 the pile of ruins before the door of the hovel (where Em- 
 peror yet lay ensconced, and whither Eoland followed him), 
 as if in utter defiance of the foemen, whom he hailed with 
 such opprobrious epithets, — "h'yar, you bald-head, smoke- 
 dried, punkia-eating red-skins! you half-niggurs ! yoiji 
 
172 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 ''coon-whelps ! you snakes ! you Tarmints ! you ragga- 
 muffins, what goes about licking women and children, and 
 scar'ring anngelliferous madam ! git up and show your 
 scalp-locks; for, 'tarnal death to me, I'm the man to take 
 '"em — eock-a-doodle-doo !" 
 
 And the valiant horse-thief concluded his warlike de- 
 fiance with such a crow as might have struck consternation 
 to the heart, not merely of the best game-cock in Kentucky, 
 but to the bird of Jove itself. Great was the excitement 
 it produced among the warriors. A furious hubbub was 
 heard to arise among them, followed by many wrathful 
 voices, exclaiming, in broken English, with eager haste, 
 "Know him dah! cuss' rascal! Cappin Stackpole! steal 
 Injun boss !" And the "'steal Injun boss !' iterated and re- 
 iterated by a dozen voices, and always with the most 
 iracund emphasis, enabled Eoland to form a proper con- 
 ception of the sense in which his enemies held that ofEence, 
 as well as of the great merits and wide-spread fame of his 
 new ally, whose mere voice had thrown the red-men into 
 such a ferment. 
 
 But it was not with words alone they vented their dis- 
 pleasure. Eifle-shots and execrations were discharged to- 
 gether against the notorious enemy of their pinfolds; who 
 nothing daunted, and nothing loath, let fly his own "speech- 
 ifier," as he denominated his rifle, in return, accompanying 
 the salute with divers yells and maledictions, in which lat- 
 ter he showed himself, to say the truth, infinitely superior 
 to his antagonists. He would even, so great and fervent 
 was his desire to fight the battles of his benefactress to 
 advantage, have retained his exposed stand on the pile of 
 ruins, daring every bullet, had not Eoland dragged him 
 down by main force, and compelled him to seek a shelter 
 like the rest, — from which, however, he carried on the 
 war, loading and firing his piece with wonderful rapidity, 
 and yelling and roaring all the time with triumphant fury, 
 as if reckoning upon every shot to bring down an enemy. 
 
 But it was not many minutes before Eoland began to 
 fear that the fatality which had marked all his relations 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 1^3 
 
 with the intrepid horse-thief, had not yet lost its influence, 
 and that Stackpole's present assistance was any thing but 
 advantageous to his cause. It seemed, indeed, as if the 
 savages had been driven to increased rage by the discovery 
 of his presence; and that the hope of capturing him, the 
 most daring and inveterate of the hungerers after Indian 
 horse-flesh, and requiting his manifold transgressions on 
 the spot, had infused into them new spirit and fiercer de- 
 termination. Their fire became more vigorous, their shouts 
 more wild and ferocious; those who had effected a lodg- 
 ment among the ruins crept nigher, while others appeared, 
 dealing their shots from other quarters close at hand; 
 and, in fine, the situation of his little party became so pre- 
 carious, that Eoland, apprehending every moment a gen- 
 eral assault, and despairing of being again able to repel 
 it, drew them secretly off from the ruin, which he aban- 
 doned entirely, and took refuge among the rocks at the head 
 of the ravine. 
 
 It was then, — while, unconscious of the sudden evacua- 
 tion of the hovel, but not doubting they had driven the 
 defenders into its interior, the enemy poured in half a 
 dozen or more volleys, as preliminaries to the assault which 
 the soldier apprehended, — that he turned to the unlucky 
 Ealph ; and arresting him as he was about to fire upon the 
 foe from his new cover, demanded, with much agitation, 
 if it were not possible to transport the hapless females in 
 the little canoe, which his mind had often reverted to as 
 a probable means of escape, to a place of safety. 
 
 "'Tarnal death to me," said Ealph, "thar's a boiling 
 pot above and a boiling pot below; but am't I the crittur 
 to shake old Salt by the f o'-paw ? Can take anngelliferous 
 madam down ar' a shoot that war ever seed P' 
 
 "And why, in heaven's name," cried the Virginian, "did 
 you not say so before, and relieve her from this horrible 
 situation ?" 
 
 "'Tarnal death to me, am't I to do her fighting first?" 
 demanded the honest Ealph. "Jist let's have another crack 
 at the villains, jist for madam's satisfaction; and then, 
 
174 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 sodger, if you're for taking the shoot, I'm jist the salmon 
 to show you the way. But I say, sodger, I won't lie," he 
 continued, finding Eoland was bent upon instant escape, 
 while the savages were yet unaware of their flight from tha 
 hovel — "I won't lie, sodger; thar's rather a small trough 
 to hold madam and the gal, and me and you and the niggur 
 and the white man;" — (Stackpole was already acquainted 
 with the number of the party) — "and as for the bosses, 
 'twill be all crucifixion to git 'em through old Salt's fingers." 
 
 "Think not of horses, nor of us," said Eoland. "Save 
 but the women, and it will be enough. For the rest of us, 
 we will do our best. We can keep the hollow till we are 
 relieved; for, if Nathan be alive, relief must be now on 
 the way." And in a few hurried words, he acquainted 
 Stackpole with his having despatched the man of peace to 
 seek assistance. 
 
 "Thar's no trusting the crittur. Bloody Nathan," said 
 Ralph ; "though at a close hug, a squeeze on the small ribs, 
 or a kick-up of heels, he's all splendiferous. Afore you 
 see his ugly pietur' ag'in, 'tarnal death to me, strannger, 
 you'll be devoured; — ^the red niggurs thar won't make two 
 bites of you. No, sodger — ^if we run, we run, thar's the 
 principle; we takes the water, the whole herd together, 
 niggurs, bosses, and all, partickelarly the bosses; for, 
 'tarnal death to me, it's ag'n my conscience to leave so 
 much as a hoof. And so, sodger, if you conscientiously 
 thinks thar has been walloping enough done on both sides, 
 I'm jist the man to help you all out of the bobbery ; though, 
 cuss me, you might as well have cut me out of the beech 
 without so much hard axing !" 
 
 These words of the worthy horse-thief, uttered as hur- 
 riedly as his own, but far more coolly, animated the spirits 
 of the young soldier with double hope; and, taking ad- 
 vantage of the busy intentness with which the enemy still 
 poured their fire into the ruin, he despatched Ealph down 
 the ravine to prepare the canoe for the women, while he 
 himself summoned Dodge and Emperor to make an effort 
 for their own deliverance, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. I'^S 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 For what obscured light the heavens did grant. 
 Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
 A doubtful warrant of immediate death. 
 
 — Comedy of Errors. 
 
 The roar of the river, alternating with peals of thunder, 
 which were now loud and frequent, awoke many an anxious 
 pang in Eoland's bosom, as he lifted his half unconscious 
 kinswoman from the earth, and bore her to the canoe; but 
 his anxiety was much more increased, when he came to 
 survey the little yessel itself, which was scarce twelve feet 
 in length, and seemed ill fitted to sustain the weight of 
 even half the party. It was, besides, of the clumsiest and 
 worst possible figure, a mere log, in fact, roughly hollowed 
 out, without any attempt having been made to point its 
 extremities ; so that it looked less like a canoe than an ox- 
 trough; which latter purpose it was perhaps designed 
 chiefly to serve, and intended to be used for the former only 
 when an occasional rise of the waters might make a canoe 
 necessary to the convenience of the maker. Such a vessel 
 managed by a skilful hand might indeed bear the two fe- 
 males, with honest Ealph, through the foaming rapids be- 
 low; but Eoland felt that to burthen it with others would 
 be to insure the destruction of all. 
 
 He resolved, therefore, that no others should enter it; 
 and having deposited Telle Doe in it by the side of Edith, 
 he directed Dodge and Emperor to mount their horses, and 
 trust to their strength and courage for a safe escape. To 
 Emperor, whatever distaste he might have for the adven- 
 ture, this was an order, like all others, to be obeyed with- 
 out murmuring; and, fortunately. Pardon Dodge's human- 
 ity, or his discretion, was so strongly fortified by his con- 
 fidence in the swimming virtues of his steed, that he very 
 readily agreed to try his fortune on horseback. 
 
 "Any thing to git round them everlasting varmint— • 
 
1?6 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 though it a'n't no sich great circumstance to fight 'em 
 neither, where one's a kinder got one's hand in," he cried, 
 with quite a joyous voice ; and added, as if to encourage the 
 others — "it's my idea, that, if such an old crazy boat can 
 swim the river, a hoss can do it a mortal heap better." 
 
 "'Tarnal death to me," said Ealph Stackpole, "them's 
 got the grit that'll go down old Salt on horseback! But 
 it's all for the good of anngelliferous madam; and so, if 
 thar's any hard rubbing, or drowning, or any thing of that 
 synonimous natur', to happen, it am't a thing to be holped 
 no how. But hand in the guns and speechifiers, and make 
 ready for a go ; for, 'tarnal death to me, the abbregynes ar' 
 making a rush for the cabin." 
 
 There was indeed little time left for deliberation. While 
 Ealph was yet speaking, a dozen or more flaming brands 
 were suddenly seen flung into the air, as if against the 
 broken roof, of the cabin, through which they fell into the 
 interior; and, with a tremendous whoop, the savages, thus 
 lighting the way to the assault, rushed against their fancied 
 prey. The nest moment there was heard a yell of disap- 
 pointed rage and wonder, followed by a rush of men into 
 the ravine. 
 
 "Now, sodger," cried Ralph, "stick close to the trough; 
 and if you ever seed etarnity at midnight, you'll see a 
 small sample now !" 
 
 With that he pushed the canoe into the stream, and Eo- 
 land, urging his terrified steed with voice and spur, and 
 leading his cousin's equally alarmed palfrey, leaped in 
 after him, calling to Dodge and Emperor to follow. But 
 how they followed, or whether they followed at all, it was 
 not easy at that moment to determine ; for a bright flash of 
 lightning, glaring over the river, vanished suddenly, leav- 
 ing all in double darkness, and the impetuous rush of the 
 current whirled him he knew not whither, while the crash 
 of the thunder that followed, prevented his hearing any 
 other noise, save the increasing and never absent roar of 
 the waters. 
 
 Another flash illuminated the scene, and during its 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 1'^'^ 
 
 short-lived radiance he perceived himself flying, as it al- 
 most seemed, through the water, borne along by a furious 
 current betwixt what appeared to him two lofty walls of 
 crag and forest, towards those obstructions in the channel, 
 which, in times of flood, converted the whole river into a 
 boiling caldron. They were masses of rock, among which 
 had lodged rafts of drift timber, forming a dam or barrier 
 on either side of the river, from which the descending 
 floods were whirled into a central channel, ample enough in 
 the dry season to discharge the waters in quiet, but through 
 which they were now driven with all the hurry and rage 
 of a torrent. 
 
 The scene, viewed in the momentary glare of the light- 
 ning, was indeed terrific; the dark and rugged walls on 
 either side, the ramparts of timber of every shape and 
 size, from the little willow sapling to the full grown syca- 
 more, piled high above the rocks, and the rushing gulf 
 betwixt them, made up a spectacle sufficient to appal the 
 stoutest heart; and Eoland gasped for breath, as he beheld 
 the little canoe whirl into the narrow chasm, and then 
 vanish, even before the light was over, as if swallowed up 
 in its boiling vortex. 
 
 But there was little time for fear or conjecture. He cast 
 the rein of the palfrey from his hand, directed Briareus's 
 head towards the abyss, and the next moment, sweeping in 
 darkness, and with the speed of an arrow, betwixt the 
 barriers, he felt his charger swimming beneath him in 
 comparatively tranquil waters. Another flash illumined 
 hill and river, and he beheld the little canoe dancing along 
 in safety, scarce fifty yards in advance, with Stackpole 
 waving the tattered fragments of his hat aloft, and yelling 
 out a note of triumph. 
 
 But the lusty hurrah was unheard by the soldier. A 
 more dreadful sound came to his ears from behind, in a 
 shriek that seemed uttered by the combined voices of men 
 and horses, and was heard even above the din of the tor- 
 rent. But it was momentary as dreadful, as if a cry of 
 agony that was soon over. Its fatal cause was soon ex- 
 
1^8 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 hibited, when Eoland, awakened by the sound from the 
 trance which during the brief moment of his passage 
 through the abyss, had chained his faculties, turned, by a 
 violent jerk, the head of his charger up the stream, in 
 the instinctive effort to render assistance to his less for- 
 tunate followers. 
 
 A fainter flash than before played upon the waters, and 
 he beheld two or three dark masses, like the bodies of 
 horses, hurried by among the waves, whilst another of 
 lesser bulk and human form suddenly rose from the depth 
 of the stream at his side. This he instantly grasped in 
 his hand, and dragged half across his saddle-bow, when a 
 broken, strangling exclamation, "Lor-ra-g — g — gor!" 
 made him aware that he had saved the life of the faithful 
 Emperor. 
 
 "Clutch fast to the saddle," he cried, and the negro 
 obeying with another ejaculation, the soldier turned Briar- 
 eus again down the stream, to look for the canoe. But 
 almost immediately his charger struck the ground; and 
 Eoland, to his inexpressible joy, found himself landed on 
 a projecting bank, on which the current had already swept 
 the canoe, with its precious freight unharmed. 
 
 "If that arn't equal to coming down a strick of light- 
 ning," cried Roaring Ealph, as he helped the soldier from 
 the water, "thar's no legs to a jumping bull-frog ! Smash 
 away, old Salt!" he continued, apostrophizing, with great 
 exultation and self-admiration, the river whose terrors he 
 had thus so successfully defied ; "arn't I the gentleman for 
 you? Eoar as much as you cussed please; when it comes 
 to fighting for anngelliferous madam, I can lick you, old 
 Salt, 'tarnal death to me ! And so, anngelliferous madam, 
 don't you car' a copper for the old crittur; for thar's 
 more in his bark than his bite. And as for the abbregynes, 
 if I've fou't 'em enough for your satisfaction, we'll jist 
 say good-by to 'em, and leave 'em to take the scalp off old 
 Salt." 
 
 The consolation thus offered by the worthy captain of 
 horse-thieves was lost upon Edith, who, locked in the arms 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. l'i'9 
 
 of her kinsman, and sensible of her escape from the horrid 
 danger that had so long surrounded her, sensible also of 
 the peril from which he had just been released, wept her 
 terrors away upon his breast, and for a moment almost for- 
 got that her sufferings were not yet over. 
 
 It was only for an instant that the young soldier indulged 
 his joy. He breathed a few words of comfort and en- 
 couragement, and then turned to inquire after Dodge, 
 whose gallant bearing in the hour of danger had con- 
 quered the disgust he first felt at his cowardice, and won 
 upon his gratitude and respect. But the Yankee appeared 
 not, and the loud calls Roland made for him were echoed 
 only by the hoarse roar from the barriers, now left far be- 
 hind, and the thunder that yet pealed through the sky. 
 Nor could Emperor, when restored a little to his wits, 
 which had been greatly disturbed by his own perils in the 
 river, give any satisfactory account of his fate. He could 
 only remember that the current had borne himself against 
 the logs, under which he had been swept, and whirled he 
 knew not whither, until he found himself in the arms of 
 his master; and Dodge, who had rushed before him into 
 the flood, he supposed had met a similar fate, but without 
 the happy termination that marked his own. 
 
 That the Yankee had indeed found his death among the 
 roaring waters, Eoland could well believe, the wonder only 
 being how the rest had escaped in safety. Of the five 
 horsesj three only had reached the bank, Briareus and the 
 palirey, which had fortunately followed Eoland down the 
 miadle of the chasm, and the horse of the unlucky Pardon. 
 The others had been either drowned among the logs, or 
 swept down the stream. 
 
 A few minutes sufficed to acquaint Roland with these 
 several losses, but he took little time to lament them. The 
 deliverance of his party was not yet wholly effected, and 
 every moment was to be improved, to put it, before day- 
 light, beyond the reach of pursuit. The captain of horse- 
 thieves avouched himself able to lead the way from the 
 wilderness, to conduct the travellers to a safe ford below, 
 
180 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 and thence, through the woods, to the rendezvous of the 
 emigrants. 
 
 "Let it he any where," said Roland, "where there is 
 safety; and let us not delay a moment longer. Our re- 
 maining here can avail nothing to poor Dodge." 
 
 With these words he assisted his kinswoman upon her 
 palfrey, placed Telle Doe upon the horse of the unfor- 
 tunate Yankee, and giving up his own Briareus to the ex- 
 hausted negro, prepared to resume his ill-starred journey 
 on foot. Then taking post on the rear, he gave the 
 signal to his new guide, and once more the travellers were 
 buried in the intricacies of the forest. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Then altogether 
 They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence. 
 
 — Comedy of Errors. 
 
 It was at a critical period when the travellers effected 
 their escape from the scene of their late sufferings. The 
 morning was already drawing nigh, and might, but for the 
 heavy clouds that prolonged the night of terror, have been 
 seen shooting its first streaks through the eastern skies. 
 Another half hour, if for that half hour they could have 
 maintained their position in the ravine, would have seen 
 them exposed in all their helplessness to the gaze and to 
 the fire of the determined foe. It became them to improve 
 the few remaining moments of darkness, and to make such 
 exertions as might put them, before dawn, beyond the 
 reach of discovery or pursuit. 
 
 Exertions were accordingly made, and, although man 
 and horse were alike exhausted, and the thick brakes and 
 oozy swamps through which Roaring Ralph led the way, 
 opposed a thousand obstructions to rapid motion, they 
 had left the fatal ruin at least two miles behind them, or 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 181 
 
 so honest Stackpole averred, when the day at last broke 
 over the forest. To add to the satisfaction of the fugi- 
 tives, it broke in unexpected splendor. The clouds parted, 
 and as the floating masses rolled lazily away before e pleas- 
 ant morning breeze, they were seen lighted up and tinted 
 with a thousand glorious dyes of sunshine. 
 
 The appearance of the great luminary was hailed with 
 joy, as the omen of a happier fate than had been heralded 
 by the clouds and storms of evening. Smiles began to 
 beam from the haggard and care-worn visages of the 
 travellers ; the very horses seemed to feel the inspiring in- 
 fluence of the change ; and as for Eoaring Ealph, the sight 
 of his beautiful benefactress recovering her good looks, 
 and the exulting consciousness that it was his hand which 
 had snatched her from misery and death, produced such 
 a fever of delight in his brain as was only to be allayed 
 by the most extravagant expressions and actions. He as- 
 sured her a dozen times over, "he was her dog and her 
 slave," and vowed he would "hunt her so many Injun 
 scalps, and steal her such a 'tamal chance of Shawnee 
 hosses, thar shouldn't be a gal in all Kentucky should come 
 up to her for stock and glory;" and, finally, not content 
 with making a thousand other promises of an equally ex- 
 travagant character, and swearing, "that, if she axed it, he 
 would go down on his knees, and say his prayers to her," 
 he offered, as soon as he had carried her safely across the 
 river, to "take the back-track, and lick, single-handed, all 
 the Injun abbregynes that might be following." 
 
 Indeed, to such a pitch did his enthusiasm run, that, 
 not knowing how otherwise to give vent to his overcharged 
 feelings, he suddenly turned upon his heel, and shaking his 
 fist in the direction whence he had come, as if against the 
 enemy who had caused his benefactress so much distress, he 
 pronounced a formal and emphatic curse upon their whole 
 race "from the head-chief to the commoner, from the 
 whiskey-soaking warrior down to the pan-licking squall-a- 
 baby," all of whom he anathematized with as much origi- 
 nality as fervor of expression ; after which he proceeded with 
 
183 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 more sedateness to resume his post at the head of the 
 travellers, and conduct them onwards on their way. 
 
 Another hour was now consumed in diving amid cane- 
 brakes and swamps, to which Eoaring Ealph evinced a de- 
 cidedly greater partiality than to the open forest, in which 
 the travellers had found themselves at the dawn; and in 
 this he seemed to show somewhat more of judgment and 
 discretion than would have been argued from his hair- 
 brained conversation; for the danger of stumbling upon 
 scouting Indians, of which the country now seemed 
 so full, was manifestly greater in the open woods than 
 in the dark and almost unfrequented cane-brakes; and the 
 worthy horse-thief, with all his apparent love of fight, 
 was not at all anxious that the angel of his worship should 
 be alarmed or endangered, while entrusted to his zealous 
 safe keeping. 
 
 But it happened in this case, as it has happened with 
 better and wiser men, that Stackpole's cunning overreached 
 itself, as was fully shown in the event; and it would have 
 been happier for himself and all, if his discretion, instead 
 of plunging him among difficult and almost impassable 
 bogs, where a precious hour was wasted in effecting a mere 
 temporary security and concealment from observation, had 
 taught him the necessity of pushing onwards with all pos- 
 sible speed, so as to leave pursuers, if pursuit should be 
 attempted, far behind. 
 
 At the expiration of that hour, so injudiciously wasted, 
 the fugitives issued from the brake, and stepping into a 
 narrow path, worn by the feet of bisons, among stunted 
 shrubs and parched grasses, along the face of a limestone 
 hill, sparingly scattered over with a similar barren growth, 
 began to wind their way downward into a hollow vale, in 
 which they could hear the murmurs, and perceive the 
 glimmering waters of the river over which they seemed 
 never destined to pass. 
 
 "Thar, 'tarnal death to me!" roared Ealph, pointing 
 downwards with triumph, "arn't that old Salt now, look- 
 ing as s;weet and liquorish as a whole troughful of sugar- 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS, 183 
 
 tree ? We'll jist take a dip at him, anngellif erous madam, 
 jist to wash the mud off our shoes ; and then, 'tarnal death 
 to me, fawwell to old Salt and the abbregynes together — 
 cock-a-doodle doo!" 
 
 With this comfortable assurance, and such encourage- 
 ment as he could convey in the lustiest gallicantation ever 
 fetched from lungs of man or fowl, the worthy Stackpole, 
 who had slackened his steps, but without stopping while 
 he spoke, turned his face again to the descent; when, as if 
 that war-cry had conjured up enemies from the very air, 
 a rifle bullet, shot from a bush not six yards off, suddenly 
 whizzed through his hair, scattering a handful of it to 
 the winds; and while a dozen more were, at the same in- 
 stant, poured upon other members of the unfortunate 
 party, fourteen or fifteen savages rushed out from their 
 concealment among the grass and bushes, three of whom 
 seized upon the rein of the unhappy Edith, while twice 
 as many sprang upon Captain Forrester, and, before he 
 could raise an arm in defence, bore him to the earth, a 
 victim Or a prisoner. 
 
 So much the astounded horse-thief saw with his own 
 eyes; but before he could make good any of the number- 
 less promises he had volunteered during the morning jour- 
 ney, of killing and eating the whole family of North Amer- 
 ican Indians, or exemplify the unutterable gratitude and 
 devotion he had as often professed to the fair Virginian, 
 four brawny barbarians, one of them rising at his side and 
 from the very bush whence the bullet had been discharged 
 at his head, rushed against him, flourishing their guns and 
 knives, and yelling with transport, "Got you now, Cappin 
 Stackpole, steal-hoss ! No go steal no hoss no more ! roast 
 on great big fire !" 
 
 "'Tarnal death to me!" roared Stackpole, forgetting 
 every thing else in the instinct of self-preservation; and 
 firing his piece at the nearest enemy, he suddenly leaped 
 from the path into the bushes on its lower side, where was 
 a precipitous descent, down which he went rolling and 
 crashing with a velocity almost equal to that of the bullets 
 
184 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 that were sent after him. Three of the four assailants 
 immediately darted after in pursuit, and their shouts grow- 
 ing fainter and fainter as they descended, were mingled 
 with the loud yell of victory, now uttered by a dozen savage 
 voices from the hillside. 
 
 It was a victory, indeed, in every sense, complete, almost 
 bloodless, as it seemed to the assailants, and effected at a 
 moment when the hopes of the travellers were at the high- 
 est; and so sudden was the attack, so instantaneous the 
 change from freedom to captivity, so like the juggling 
 transition of a dream the whole catastrophe, that Forrester, 
 although overthrown and bleeding from two severe wounds 
 received at the first fire, and wholly in the power of his 
 enemies, who flourished their knives and axes in his face, 
 yelling with exultation, could scarce appreciate his situa- 
 tion, or understand what dreadful misadventure had hap- 
 pened, until his eye, wandering among the dusky arms that 
 grappled him, fell first upon the body of the negro Em- 
 peror, hard by, gored by numberless wounds, and trampled 
 by the feet of his slayers, and then upon the apparition, a 
 thousand times more dismal to his eyes, of his kinswoman 
 snatched from her horse and struggling in the arms of her 
 savage captors. 
 
 The frensy with which he was seized at this lamentable 
 sight endowed him with a giant's strength; but it was ex- 
 erted in vain to free himself from his enemies, all of whom 
 seemed to experience a barbarous delight at his struggles, 
 some encouraging him with loud laughter, and in broken 
 English, to continue them, while others taunted and 
 scolded at him more like shrewish squaws than valiant 
 warriors, assuring him that they were great Shawnee fight- 
 ing-men, and he a little long-knife dog, entirely beneath 
 their notice; which expressions, though at variance with 
 all his pre-conceived notions of the stern gravity of the 
 Indian character, and rather indicative of a roughly jocose 
 than a darkly ferocious spirit, did not prevent their taking 
 the surest means to quiet his exertions and secure their 
 prize, by tying his hands behind him with a thong of 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 185 
 
 buffalo tide, drawn so tight as to inflict the most ex- 
 cruciating pain. 
 
 But pain of body was then, and for many moments after, 
 lost in agony of mind, which could be conceived only by 
 him who, like the young soldier, has been doomed, once in 
 his life, to see a tender female, the nearest and dearest ob- 
 ject of his affections, in the hands of enemies, the most 
 heartless, merciless, and brutal of all the races of men. He 
 saw her pale visage convulsed with terror and despair — 
 he beheld her arm stretched towards him, as if beseeching 
 the help he no longer had the power to render — and ex- , 
 pected every instant the fall of the hatchet, or the flash of 
 the knife that was to pour her blood upon the earth before 
 him. 
 
 He would have called upon the wretches around for pity, 
 but his tongue clove to his mouth, his brain spun round; 
 and such became the intensity of his feeling, that he was 
 suddenly bereft of sense, and feU like a dead man to the 
 earth, where he lay for a time, ignorant of all events pass- 
 ing around, ignorant also of the duration of his insensi- 
 bUity. 
 
 CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 There the still-varying pangs, which multiply 
 Until their very number makes men hard 
 By the infinities of agony, 
 Which meet the gaze, whate'er it may regard — 
 The groan, the roll in dust, the all-white eye 
 Turn'd back within its socket! 
 
 — Don Juan. 
 
 When the soldier recovered his senses, it was to wonder 
 again at the change that had come over the scene. The 
 loud yells, the bitter taunts, the mocking laughs, were 
 heard no more ; and nothing broke the silence of the wilder- 
 ness, save the stir of the leaf in the breeze, and the ripple 
 of the river against its pebbly banks below. He glanced a 
 moment from the bush in which he was lying, in search of 
 
186. NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the barbarians who had lately covered the slope of the hill, 
 but all had vanished; captor and captive alike had fled; 
 and the sparrow twittering among the stunted bushes, and 
 the grasshopper singing in the grass, were the only living 
 objects to be seen. The thong was still upon his wrists, 
 and as he felt it rankling in his flesh, he almost believed 
 his savage captors, with a refinement in cruelty the more 
 remarkable as it must have robbed them of the sight of 
 his dying agonies, had left him thus bound and wounded, 
 to perish miserably in the wilderness alone. 
 
 This suspicion was, however, soon driven from his mind ; 
 for, making an effort to rise from his feet, he found him- 
 self suddenly withheld by a powerful grasp, while a gut- 
 tural voice muttered in his ear from behind, with accents 
 half angry, half exultant, — "Long-knife no move; — see 
 how Piankeshaw kill Long-knife's brudders ! — Piankeshaw 
 great fighting man!" He turned his face with difficulty, 
 and saw, crouching among the leaves behind him, a grim 
 old warrior plentifully bedaubed over head and breast with 
 the scarlet clay of his native Wabash, his dark shining 
 eyes bent now upon the rifle which he held extended over 
 Eoland's body, now turned upon Poland himself, whom 
 he seemed to watch over with a miser's, or a wildcat's 
 affection, and now wandering away up the stony path 
 along the hillside, as if in expectation of the coming of 
 an object dearer even than rifle or captive to his imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 In the confused and distracted state of his mind, Po- 
 land was as little able to understand the expressions of the 
 warrior, as to account for the disappearance of his mur- 
 derous associates; and he would have marvelled for what 
 purpose he was thus concealed among the bushes with his 
 grim companion, had not his whole soul been too busily 
 and painfully occupied with the thoughts of his vanished 
 Edith. He strove to ask the wild barbarian of her fate, 
 but the latter motioned him fiercely to keep silence; and 
 the motion and the savage look that accompanied it being 
 disregarded, the Indian drew a long knife from his belt. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 18'J' 
 
 and pressing the point on Eoland's throat, muttered too 
 sternly and emphatically to be misconceived — "Long-knife 
 speak, Long-knife die! Piankeshaw fight Long-knife's 
 brudders — Piankeshaw great fighting man !" from which 
 all that Eoland could understand was that there was mis- 
 chief of some kind still in the wind, and that he was com- 
 manded to preserve silence on the peril of his life. What 
 that mischief could be he was unable to divine ; but he was 
 not kept long in ignorance. 
 
 As he lay upon the ground, his cheek pillowed upon a 
 stone which accident, or perhaps the humanity of the old 
 warrior, had placed under his head, he could distinguish a 
 hollow, pattering, distant sound, in which, at first mis- 
 taken for the murmuring of the river over some rocky 
 ledge, and then for the clatter of wild beasts approaching 
 over the rocky hill, his practiced ear soon detected the 
 trampling of a body of horse, evidently winding their way 
 along the stony road which had conducted him to captivity, 
 and from which he was but a few paces removed. 
 
 His heart thrilled within him. Was it, could it be, a 
 band of gallant Kentuckians, in pursuit of the bold marau- 
 ders, whose presence in the neighborhood of the settle- 
 ments had been already made known? or could they be 
 (the thrill of expectation grew to transport as he thought 
 it) his fellow-emigrants summoned by the faithful Nathan 
 to his assistance, and now straining every nerve to over- 
 take the savages, whom they had tracked from the deserted 
 ruin? 
 
 He could now account for the disappearance of his cap- 
 tors, and the death-like silence that surrounded him. Too 
 vigilant to be taken unawares, and perhaps long since 
 appvized of the coming of the band, the Indians had re- 
 sumed their hiding-places in the grass and among the 
 bushes, preparing for the newcomers an ambuscade similar 
 to that they had so successfully practiced against Eoland's 
 unfortunate party. 
 
 "Let them hide as they will, detestable miscreants," he 
 lautteyed to hiwgelfj with feelings of vindictiye triumph j 
 
188 NICK OP THE :WOODS. 
 
 "they will not, this time, have frighted women, and a 
 handful of dispirited fugitives to deal with!" 
 
 With these feelings burning in his bosom, he made an 
 effort to turn his face towards the top of the hill, that he 
 might catch the first sight of the friendly band, and glut 
 his eyes with the view of the anticipated speedy discomfi- 
 ture and destruction of his enemies. In this first effort 
 he received unexpected aid from the old warrior, who, per- 
 ceiving his intention, pulled him round with his own hands, 
 telling him, with the'grim complacency of one who desired 
 a witness to his bravery, "Now, you hold still, you see, — 
 you see Piankeshaw old Injun, — ^you see Piankeshaw kill 
 man, take scalp, kill all Long-knife: — debbil great fight- 
 ing man, old Piankeshaw !" which self-admiring assurance, 
 repeated for the third time, the warrior pronounced with 
 extreme earnestness and emphasis. 
 
 It was now that Roland could distinctly perceive the 
 nature of the ground on which his captors had formed 
 their ambush. The hill along whose side the bison- 
 path went winding down to the river with an easy descent, 
 was nearly bare of trees, its barren soil affording nourish- 
 ment only for a coarse grass, enamelled with asters and 
 other brilliant flowers, and for a few stunted cedar-bushes, 
 scattered here and there ; while, in many places the naked 
 rock, broken into ledges and gullies, the beds of occasional 
 brooks, was seen gleaming grey and desolate in the sun- 
 shine. Its surface being thus broken, was unfit for the 
 operations of cavalry ; and the savages being posted as Ro- 
 land judged from the position of the old Piankeshaw, mid- 
 way along the descent, where were but few trees of suffi- 
 cient magnitude to serve as a cover to assailants, while 
 they themselves were concealed behind rocks and bushes, 
 there was little doubt they could inflict loss upon any ad- 
 vancing body of footmen of equal numbers, and perhaps 
 repel them altogether. But Roland, now impressed with 
 the belief that the approaching horsemen, whose trampling 
 grew heavier each moment, as if they were advancing at 
 a full trot, composed the flower of his own band^ had 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 189 
 
 little fear of the result of a contest. He did not doubt 
 they would outnumber the savages, who, he thought, could 
 not muster more than fifteen or sixteen guns ; and, coming 
 from a station which, he had been taught to believe, was 
 of no mean strength, it was more than probable their num- 
 bers had been reinforced by a detachment from its garri- 
 son. 
 
 Such were his thoughts, such were his hopes, as the 
 party drew yet nigher, the sound of their hoofs clattering 
 at last on the ridge of the hill ; but his disappointment may 
 be imagined, when, as they burst at last on his sight, emerg- 
 ing from the woods above, the gallant party dwindled sud- 
 denly into a troop of young men, only eleven in number, 
 who rattled along the path in greater haste than order, as 
 if dreaming of any thing in the world but the proximity 
 of an enemy. The leader he recognized at a glance, by 
 his tall figure, as Tom Bruce the younger, whose feats of 
 regulation the previous day had produced a strong though 
 indirect influence on his own fortunes; and the ten lusty 
 youths who followed at his heels, he doubted not, made up 
 the limb and body of that inquisitorial court, which, under 
 him as its head, had dispensed so liberal allowance of 
 border law to honest Ealph Stackpole. 
 
 That they were now travelling on duty of a similar 
 kind, he was strongly inclined to believe; but the appear- 
 ance of their horses covered with foam, as if they had 
 ridden far and fast, their rifles in readiness in both hands, 
 as if in momentary expectation of being called on to use 
 them, with an occasional gesture from the youthful leader, 
 who seemed to encourage them to greater speed, convinced 
 him they were bent upon more serious business, perhaps in 
 pursuit of the Indians with whose marauding visitation 
 some accident had made them acquainted. 
 
 The smallness of the force, and its almost entire incom- 
 petence to yield him any relief, filled the soldier's breast 
 with despair; but, hopeless as he was, he could not see 
 the gallant young men rushing blindly among the savages, 
 each of whose rifles was already selecting its victim, witk- 
 
190 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 out making an effort to apprise them of their danger. 
 Forgetting, therefore, his own situation, oi generously dis- 
 regarding it, he summoned all his strength, and, as they 
 began to descend the hill, shouted aloud, "Beware the am- 
 bush ! Halt " 
 
 But before the words were all uttered, he was grasped 
 by the throat with strangling violence, and the old warrior, 
 whose left hand thus choked his utterance, drew his knife 
 a second time with the other, and seemed for an instant as 
 if he would have plunged it into the soldier's bosom. 
 
 But the cry had not been made in vain, and although, 
 from the distance, the words had not been distinguished by 
 the young Kentuckians, enough was heard to convince 
 them the enemy was nigh at hand. They came to an im^ 
 mediate halt, and Eoland, whose throat was still held by 
 the warrior and his bosom threatened by the vengeful knife, 
 but whose eyes neither the anguish of suffocation nor the 
 fear of instant death could draw from the little band, saw 
 them leap from their horses, which were given in charge of 
 one of the number, who immediately retired beyond the 
 brow of the hill ; while Tom Bruce, a worthy scion of a war- 
 like stock, brandishing his rifle in one hand, and with the 
 other pointing his nine remaining followers down the road, 
 cried, in tones so clear and manly that they came to Eo- 
 land's ear, — "Fow, boys, the women's down thar, and the 
 red-skins with them! Show fight, for the honor of Ken- 
 tuck and the love of woman. Every man to his bush, 
 and every bullet to its Injun! Bring the brutes out of 
 their cover !" 
 
 This speech, short and homely as it was, was answered 
 by a loud shout from the nine young men, who began to 
 divide, with the intention of obeying its simple final in- 
 structions; when the Indians, seeing the design, unwilling 
 to forego the advantage of the first open shot, and per- 
 haps hoping by a weak fire to mask their strength, and de- 
 coy the young Kentuckians into closer quarters, let fly 
 fl volley of sj^ or seven guns fropi tjie b^ishes near tq yb§r9 
 
:NICK 0^ THE WOODS. 191 
 
 lloland lay, but without doing much mischief, or even de- 
 ceiving the young men, as was exepected. 
 
 "Thar they go, the brutes !" roared Tom Bruce, adding, 
 as he sprang with his followers among the bushes, "show 
 "em your noses, and keep a good squint over your elbows." 
 
 "Long-knife big fool, — Piankeshaw eat him up!" cried 
 the old warrior, now releasing the soldier's throat from 
 durance, but speaking with tones of ire and indignation: 
 "Shall see how great Injun fighting-man eat up white 
 man !" 
 
 With these words, leaving Eoland to endure his bonds, 
 and solace himself as he might, he crept away into the 
 long grass, and was soon entirely lost to sight. 
 
 The combat that now ensued was one so different in most 
 of its characteristics from all that Eoland had ever before 
 witnessed, that he watched its progress, notwithstanding 
 the tortures of his bonds and the fever of his mind, with 
 an interest even apart from that which he necessarily felt 
 in it, as one whose all of happiness or misery depended 
 upon its issue. In all conflicts in which he had been en- 
 gaged, the adverse ranks were arrayed face to face, looking 
 upon each other as they fought; but here, no man saw his 
 enemy, both parties concealing themselves so effectually in 
 the grass, and among the rocks and shrubs, that there was 
 nothing to indicate even their existence, save the occa- 
 sional discharge of a rifle, and the wreath of white smoke 
 curling up from it into the air. In the battles of regular 
 soldiers, too, men fought in masses, the chief strength of 
 either party arising from the support which individuals 
 thus gave to one another, each deriving additional courage 
 and confidence from the presence of his fellows. Here, 
 on the contrary, it seemed the first object of each indi- 
 vidual, whether American or Indian, to separate himself 
 as far from his friends as possible, seeking his own enemies, 
 trusting to his own resources, carrying on the war on his 
 own foundation — in short, like the enthusiastic Jerseyman, 
 who, without belonging to either side, was found, at the 
 battle of Monmouth, peppering away from behind a fence 
 
193 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 at whatever he fancied a foeman — "fighting on his own 
 hook" entirely. 
 
 It did not seem to Eoland as if a battle, fought upon 
 such principles, could result in any great injury to either 
 party. But he forgot, or rather he was ignorant, that the 
 separation of the combatants, while efEecting the best pro- 
 tection, not merely to any one individual, but to all his 
 comrades, who must have been endangered, if near him, 
 by every bullet aimed at himself, did not imply either fear 
 or hesitation on his part, whose object, next to that men- 
 tioned, was to avoid the shots of the many, while seeking 
 out and approaching a single antagonist, whom he was 
 ever ready singly to encounter. 
 
 And thus it happened that, while Eoland deemed the 
 antagonists were manoeuvering over the hillside, dragging 
 themselves from bush to bush and rock to rock, to no 
 profitable purpose, they were actually creeping nigher and 
 nigher to each other every moment; the savages crawling 
 onwards with the exultation of men who felt their superior 
 strength, and the Kentuckians advancing with equal alac- 
 rity, as if ignorant of, or bravely indifEerent to, their in- 
 feriority. 
 
 It was not a long time, indeed, before the Virginian be- 
 gan to have a better opinion of the intentions of the re- 
 spective parties; for, by and by, the shots, which were at 
 first fired very irregularly and at long intervals, became 
 more frequent, and, as it seemed, more serious; and an 
 occasional whoop from an Indian, or a wild shout from a 
 Kentuckian, showed that the excitement of actual conflict 
 was beginning to be felt on either side. At the same time 
 he became sensible, from the direction of the firing, that 
 both parties had gradually extended themselves in a line, 
 reaching, notwithstanding the smallness of their numbers, 
 from the crest of the hill on the one hand, to the borders 
 of the river on the other, and thus perceived that the gal- 
 lant Eegulators, however ignorant of the science of war, 
 and borne by impetuous tempers into a contest with a more 
 numerous foe, were not in the mood to be taken either oil 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 193 
 
 the flank or rear, but were resolved, in true military style, 
 to keep their antagonists before them. 
 
 In this manner the conflict continued for many minutes, 
 the combatants approaching nearer and nearer, the excite- 
 ment waxing fiercer every instant, until shots were in- 
 cessantly exchanged, and, as it seemed, with occasional ef- 
 fect; for the yells, which grew louder and more frequent 
 on both sides, were sometimes mingled with cries of pain on 
 the one hand, and shouts of triumph on the other; during 
 all which time, nothing whatever was seen of the com- 
 batants, at least by Eoland, whose mental agonies were not 
 a little increased by his being a compelled spectator, if 
 such he could be called, of a battle in which he was so 
 deeply interested, without possessing the power to mingle 
 in it, or strike a single blow on his own behalf. 
 
 His fears of the event had been, from the first, much 
 stronger than his hopes. Aware of the greatly superior 
 strength of the savages, he did not doubt that the moment 
 would come, when he should see them rush in a body upon 
 the Kentuekians, and overwhelm them with numbers. But 
 that was a measure into which nothing but an uncommon 
 pitch of fury could have driven the barbarians; for with 
 marksmen like those opposed to them, who needed but a 
 glance of an enemy to insure his instant destruction, the 
 first spring from the grass would have been the signal of 
 death to all who attempted it, leaving the survivors, no 
 longer superior in numbers, to decide the contest with 
 men, who were, individually, in courage, strength, and 
 skill, at least their equals. 
 
 Indeed, a bloody proof of the extreme folly of such a 
 course on the part of the Indians was soon shown, when 
 the Eegulators, fighting their way onwards, as if wholly 
 regardless of the superior numbers of the foe, had ad- 
 vanced so nigh the latter as to command (which, from 
 occupying the highest ground, they were better able to do) 
 the hiding-place of some of their opponents. Three young 
 warriors, yielding to their fury, ashamed perhaps of being 
 thus bearded by a weaker foe, or inflamed with the hope of 
 
194 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 securing the scalp of one young Kentuckian who had crept 
 dangerously nigh, suddenly sprang from their lairs, and, 
 guided by the smoke of the rifle which he had just dis- 
 charged, rushed towards the spot, yelling with vindictive 
 exultation. They were the first combatants Eoland had 
 yet seen actually engaged in the conflict; and he noted 
 their appearance and act of daring with a sinking heart, as 
 the prelude to a charge from the whole body of the Indians 
 upon the devoted Kentuckians. But scarcely were their 
 brown bodies seen to rise from the grass, before three rifles 
 were fired from as many points on the hillside, following 
 each other in such rapid succession, that the ear could 
 scarce distinguish the different explosions, each of them 
 telling with fatal effect upon the rash warriors, two of 
 whom fell dead on the spot, while the third and foremost, 
 uttering a faint whoop of defiance, and making an effort 
 to throw the hatchet he held in his hand, suddenly stag- 
 gered and fell in like manner to the earth. 
 
 Loud and bold was the shout of the Kentuckians at this 
 happy stroke of success, and laughs of scorn were mingled 
 with their warlike hurrahs, as they prepared to improve 
 the advantage so fortunately gained. Loudest of all, in 
 both laugh and hurrah, was the young Tom Bruce, whose 
 voice was heard, scarce sixty yards off, roaring: "Hurrah 
 for old Kentuck! Try ''em agin, boys! give it to 'em 
 handsome once more ! and then, boys, a rush for the wo- 
 men !" 
 
 The sound of a friendly voice at so short a distance fired 
 Eoland's heart with hope, and he shouted aloud himself, no 
 Indians seeming nigh, for assistance. But his voice was 
 lost in a tempest of yells, the utterance of grief and fury, 
 with which the fall of their three companions had filled 
 the breasts of the savages. The effect of this fatal loss, 
 stirring up their passions to a sudden frensy, was to goad 
 them into the very step they had hitherto so wisely avoided. 
 All sprang from the ground as with one consent, and, re- 
 gardless of the exposure and danger, dashed, with hideous 
 ghouts, against the Kentuckians. But the volley with 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 195 
 
 whicli they were received, each Kentuckian selecting his 
 man, and firing with unerring and merciless aim, damped 
 their short-lived ardor ; and quickl}' dropping again among 
 the grass and bushes, they were fain to continue the com- 
 bat as they had begun it, in a way, which, if it produced 
 less injury to their antagonists, was conducive of greater 
 safety to themselves. 
 
 The firing was now hot and incessant on both sides, 
 particularly on the part of the Regulators, who, inspired 
 by success, but still prudently avoiding all unnecessary ex- 
 posure of their persons, pressed their enemies with a 
 spirit from which Eoland now for the first time drew the 
 happiest auguries. Their stirring hurrahs bespoke a con- 
 fidence in the result of the fray, infinitely cheering to his 
 spirits; and he forgot his tortures, which, from the many 
 frantic struggles he had made to force the thong from his 
 wrists, drawing it at each still further into his flesh, were 
 now almost insupportable, when, amid the din of firing 
 and yelling, he heard Tom Bruce cry aloud to his com- 
 panions, "Now, boys! one more crack, and then for the 
 rifle-butt, knife, and hatchet !" 
 
 It seemed, indeed, as if the heavy losses the Indians had 
 sustained had turned the scale of battle entirely in favor 
 of the Kentuckians. It was evident, even to Eoland, that 
 the former, although yelling and shouting with as much 
 apparent vigor as ever, were gradually giving ground before 
 the latter, and retreating towards their former lairs; 
 while he could as clearly perceive, from Bruce's expressions, 
 that the intrepid Kentuckian was actually preparing to 
 execute the very measure that had caused such loss to his 
 enemies, and which, being thus resolved on, showed his 
 confidence of victory. 
 
 "Ready, boys!" he heard him shout again, and even 
 nigher than before — "take the shoot with full pieces, and 
 let the skirmudgeons have it handsome !" 
 
 At that conjuncture, and just when Forrester caught his 
 breath with intense and devouring expectation, an incident 
 occurred which entirely changed the face of affairs, and 
 
196 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 snatched the victory from the hands of the Kentuckians. 
 The gallant Bruce, thus calling upon his followers to pre- 
 pare for the charge, had scarce uttered the words recorded, 
 before a voice, lustier even than his own, bellowed from a 
 bush immediately on his rear — "Take it like a butcher's 
 bull-dog, tooth and nail! — knife and skull-splitter, foot 
 and finger, give it to 'em every way — cock-a-doodle-doo !" 
 
 At these words, coming from a quarter and from an 
 ally entirely unexpected, young Bruce looked behind him 
 and beheld, emerging from a hazel bush, through which 
 it had forced its way, the visage of Eoaring Ealph Stack- 
 pole, its natural ugliness greatly increased by countless 
 scratches and spots of blood, the result of his leap down the 
 ledge of rocks, when first set upon by the Indians, and his 
 eyes squinting daggers and ratsbane, especially while he 
 was giving utterance to that gallinaceous slogan with 
 which he was wont to express his appetite for conflict, and 
 with which he now concluded his unceremonious saluta- 
 tion. 
 
 The voice and visage were alike familiar to Brace's 
 senses, and neither was so well fitted to excite alarm as 
 merriment. But, on the present occasion, they produced 
 an effect upon the young Eegulator's spirits, and through 
 them upon his actions, the most unfortunate in the world; 
 to understand which it must be recollected that the worthy 
 Kentuckian had, twenty-four hours before, with his own 
 hands, assisted in gibbeting honest Ealph on the beech- 
 tree, where, he had every reason to suppose, his lifeless 
 body was hanging at that very moment. His astonish- 
 ment and horror may therefore be conceived, when, turn- 
 ing in some perturbation at the well-known voice, he be- 
 held that identical body, the corse of the executed horse- 
 thief, crawling after him in the grass, "winking, and blink- 
 ing, and squinting," as he was used afterwards to say, "as 
 if the devil had him by the postern." It was a spectacle 
 "which the nerves of even Tom Bruce could not stand; it 
 did what armed Indians could not do, — it frightened him 
 out of his propriety. Forgetting his situation, his com- 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 19^ 
 
 rades, the savages — forgetting every thing but the fact of 
 his having administered the last correction of Lynch-law 
 to the object of his terror, he sprang on his feet, and roar- 
 ing, "By the etarnal devil, here's Ealph Stackpole!" he 
 took to his heels, running, in his confusion, right in the 
 direction of the enemy, among whom he would have pres- 
 ' ently found himself, but for a shot, by which before he 
 had run six yards, the unfortunate youth was struck to the 
 earth. 
 
 The exclamation, and the sight of Ealph himself, who 
 also rose to follow the young leader upon what he deemed 
 a rush against the foe, electrified the whole body of the 
 Eegulators, who were immediately thrown into confusion, 
 of which the savages took the same advantage they had 
 taken of Bruce's agitation, firing upon them as they rose, 
 and then rushing upon them to end the fray, before they 
 could recover their wits or spirits. 
 
 It needed but this, and the fall of their leader, to render 
 the disorder of the young men irretrievable; and, accord- 
 ingly, in less than a moment they were seen, — all, at least, 
 who were not already disabled — flying in a panic from the 
 field of battle. It was in vain that the captain of horse- 
 thieves, divining at last the cause of their extraordinary 
 flight, roared out that he was a living man, with nothing of 
 a ghost about him whatever ; the panic was universal and 
 irremediable, and nothing remained for him to do but to 
 save his own life as quickly as possible. 
 
 " 'Tarnal death to me !" he bellowed, turning to fly ; but 
 a groan from Bruce fell on his ear. He ran to the side of 
 the fallen youth, and catching him by the hand, exclaimed, 
 "Now for the best leg, Tom, and a rush uphill to the 
 bosses !" 
 
 "You am't hanged then, after all?" muttered the jun- 
 ior ; and then fell back as if unable to rise, adding faintly, 
 "Go ; — ^rat it, I'm done for. As for the — '1 — savages, what 
 I have to say — '1 — '1. But I reckon scalping^s not much; 
 — ^'1 — ^'1, — one soon gets used to it !" 
 
 And thus the young Kentuckian, his blood oozing fastj 
 
IPS NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 his mind wandering, his utterance failing, muttered, re- 
 signed himself to his fate, ignorant that even Stackpole 
 was no longer at his side to hear him. His fate did, in- 
 deed, seem to be inevitable; for while Stackpole had him 
 by the hand, vainly tugging to get him on his feet, three 
 different Indians were seen running with might and main 
 to quench the last spark of his existence, and to finish 
 Stackpole at the same time. 
 
 But in that very emergency, the ill-luck which seemed 
 to pursue the horse-thief, and all with whom he was asso- 
 ciated, found a change; and destiny sent them both as- 
 sistance in a way and by means as unexpected as they were 
 unhoped for. The approach of the savages was noticed by 
 Ecaring Ealph, who, not knowing how to save his young 
 executioner, against whom he seemed to entertain no feel- 
 ings of anger whatever, and whose approaching fate he ap- 
 peared well disposed to revenge beforehand, clapped his 
 rifle to his shoulder, to make sure of one of their number; 
 when his eye was attracted by the spectacle of a horse rush- 
 ing up the stony road, neighing furiously and scattering 
 the Indians from before him. It was the charger Briareus, 
 who had broken from the tree where he had been fastened 
 below, and now came dashing up the hill, distracted with 
 terror, or perhaps burning to mingle in the battle, which 
 he had heard and snuffed from afar. He galloped by the 
 three Indians, who leaped aside in alarm, while Stackpole, 
 taking advantage of the moment, ran up and seized him 
 by the bridle. In another moment he had assisted the 
 fainting Kentuckian upon the animal's back, leaped up 
 behind him, and was dashing with wild speed up the hill, 
 yelling with triumph, and laughing to scorn the bullets 
 that were shot vainly after. 
 
 All this the unhappy Eoland beheld, and with a revul- 
 sion of feelings that can only be imagined. He saw, with- 
 out, indeed, entirely comprehending the cause, the sudden 
 confusion and final flight of the little band, at the moment 
 of anticipated victory. He saw them flying wildly up the 
 hill, in irretrievable routj followed by the whooping victors, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 199 
 
 who, with the fugitives, soon vanished entirely from view, 
 leaving the field of battle to the dead, and to the thrice 
 miserable captives. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The prisoner. 
 Whom he, in this adventure, hath surpris'd. 
 To his own use he keeps. 
 
 — Henry IV. 
 
 The conflict, though sharp and hot, considering the 
 insignificant number of combatants on either side, was of 
 no very long duration, the whole time, from the appearance 
 of the Kentuckians until the flight, scarce exceeding half 
 an hour. But the pursuit, which the victors immediately 
 commenced, lasted a much longer space; and it was more 
 than an hour — an age of suspense and suffering to the 
 soldier — ^before the sound of whooping on the hill apprised 
 him of their return. They brought with them, as trophies 
 of success, two horses, on each of which sat three or four 
 different Indians, as many indeed as could get upon the 
 animal's back, where they clung together, shouting, laugh- 
 ing, and otherwise diverting themselves, more like joyous 
 school-boys than stern warriors who had just fought and 
 won a bloody battle. 
 
 But this semblance of mirth and good humor lasted no 
 longer than while the savages were riding from the hill- 
 top to the battle-ground; which having reached, they 
 sprang upon the ground, and running wildly about, uttered 
 several cries of the most mournful character, — laments, 
 as Eoland supposed, over the bodies of their fallen com- 
 panions. 
 
 But if such was their sorrow, while looking upon their 
 own dead, the sight of their lifeless foemen, of whom two, 
 besides the negro Emperor, who had been tomahawked the 
 moment after he fell, had been unhappily left lying on the 
 fieldj soog (jb&nged it iRtq fi^jcer passion, The wail bq-i 
 
200 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 came a yell of fury, loud and frightful; and Eoland could 
 see them gathering round each corse, striking the senseless 
 clay repeatedly with their knives and hatchets, each seek- 
 ing to surpass his fellow in the savage work of mutilation. 
 Such is the red-man of America, whom courage — an at- 
 tribute of all lovers of blood, whether man or animal ; mis- 
 fortune — ^the destiny in every quarter of the globe of every 
 barbarous race, which contact with a civilized one cannot 
 civilize; and the dreams of poets and sentimentalists, have 
 invested with a character wholly incompatible with his 
 condition. Individual virtues may be, and indeed fre- 
 quently are^lound among men in a natural state; but 
 honor, justice, and generosity, as characteristics of the 
 mass, are refinements belonging only to an advanced stage 
 of civilization. 
 
 In the midst of this barbarous display of unsatisfied 
 rage, several of the savages approached the unfortunate 
 Eoland, and among them the old Piankeshaw, who, flourish- 
 ing his hatchet, already clotted with blood, and looking 
 more like a demon than a human being, made an effort to 
 dash out the soldier's brains ; in which, however, he was re- 
 strained by two younger savages, who caught him in their 
 arms, and muttered somewhat in their own tongue, which 
 mollified his wrath in a moment, causing him to burst into 
 a roar of obstreperous laughter. 
 
 "Ees, — ^good !" he cried, grinning with apparent benevo- 
 lence and friendship over the helpless youth; — "no hurt 
 Long-knife; take him Piankeshaw nation; make good 
 friend squaw, papoose — all brudders Long-knife." 
 
 With these expressions, of the purport of which Eoland 
 could understand but little, he left him, retiring with the 
 rest, as Eoland soon saw, to conceal or bury the bodies of 
 his slain comrades, which were borne in the arms of the 
 survivors to the bottom of the hill, and there, carefully and 
 in silence, deposited among thickets, or in the crannies of 
 the rock. 
 
 This ceremony completed, Eoland was again visited by 
 his Piankeshaw friend and the two young warriors who 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 201 
 
 had saved his life before, and were perhaps fearful of 
 trusting it entirely to the tender mercies of the senior. 
 It was fortunate for Roland that he was thus attended ; for 
 the old warrior had no sooner approached him than he 
 began to weep and groan, uttering an harangue, which, 
 although addressed, as it seemed, entirely to the prostrate 
 captive, was in the Indian tongue, and therefore wholly 
 wasted upon his ears. Nevertheless, he could perceive that 
 the Indian, was relating something that weighted very 
 heavily upon his mind, that he was warming with his sub- 
 ject, and even working himself up into a passion ; and, in- 
 deed, he had not spoken very long before his visage changed 
 from grief to wrath, and from wrath to the extreme of 
 fury, in which he began to handle his hatchet as on the 
 previous occasion, making every demonstration of the best 
 disposition in the world to bury it in the prisoner's brain. 
 
 He was again arrested by the young savages, who mut- 
 tered something in his ear as before; and again the effect 
 Tvas to convert his anger into merriment, the change being 
 effected with a facility that might well have amazed the 
 prisoner, had his despair permitted him to feel any lighter 
 emotion. "Good!" replied the old warrior, as if in reply 
 to what the others had said; "Long-knife go Piankeshaw 
 nation, — make great sight for Piankeshaw !" 
 
 And so saying, he began to dance about, with many 
 grimaces of visage and contortions of body, that seemed 
 to have a meaning for his comrades, who fetched a whoop 
 of admiration, though entirely inexplicable to the soldier. 
 Then seizing the latter by the arm, and setting him on his 
 feet, the warrior led, or dragged him a little way down 
 the hill to a place on the roadside where the victors were 
 assembled, deliberating, doubtless, upon the fate of their 
 prisoners. 
 
 They seemed to have suffered a considerable loss in the 
 battle, twelve being the whole number now to be seen; 
 and most of these, judging from the fillets of rags and 
 bundles of green leaves tied about their limbs, had been 
 wounded, — two of them, to all appearance, very severely, if 
 
203 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 not mortally; for they lay upon the earth a little aparE 
 from the rest, in whose motions they seemed to take no 
 interest. 
 
 As Eoland approached, he looked in vain amid the throng 
 for his kinswoman. Neither she nor Telie Doe was to be 
 seen. But casting his eye wildly around, it fell upon a 
 little grove of trees not many yards off, in which he could 
 perceive the figures of horses, as well as of a tall barbarian 
 who stood on its edge, as if keeping guard, wrapped, not- 
 withstanding the sultriness of the weather, in a blanket, 
 from chin to foot, while his head was as warmly invested 
 in the ample folds of a huge scarlet handkerchief. He 
 stood like a statue, his arms folded on his breast, and lost 
 under the heavy festoons of the blanket; while his eyes 
 were fastened upon the group of Indians on the roadside, 
 from which they wandered only to glare a moment upon 
 the haggard and despairing visage of the soldier. 
 
 In that copse, Eoland doubted not the savages had con- 
 cealed a hopeless and helpless captive, the being for whom 
 he had struggled and suffered so long and so vainly, the 
 maid whose forebodings of evil had been so soon and so 
 dreadfully realized. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the savages on the roadside began the 
 business for which they had assembled; that seemed to be, 
 in the first place, the division of spoils, consisting of the 
 guns, horses, and clothes of the dead, with sundry other 
 articles, which, but for his unhappy condition, Eoland 
 would have wondered to behold ; for there were among them 
 rolls of cloth and calico, heaps of hawks' -bells and other 
 Indian trinkets, knives, pipes, powder and ball, and other 
 such articles, even to a keg or two of the fire-water, enough 
 to stock an Indian trading-house. 
 
 These, wherever and however obtained, were distributed 
 equally among the Indians by a man of lighter skin than 
 themselves — a half-breed, as Eoland supposed — who 
 seemed to exercise some authority among them, though ever 
 deferring in all things to an old Indian of exceedingly 
 fierce and malignaiit aspect^ though wasted sind witherec] 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. 203 
 
 into the semblance of a consumptive wolf, who sat upon 
 a stone, buried in gloomy abstraction, from which, time by 
 time, he awoke, to direct the dispersion of the valuables, 
 through the hands of his deputy, with exceeding great 
 gravity and state. 
 
 The distribution being effected, and evidently to the 
 satisfaction of all present, the savages turned their looks 
 upon the prisoner, eyeing him with mingled triumph and 
 exultation; and the old presiding officer, or chief, as he 
 seemed to be, shaking off his abstraction, got upon his feet 
 and made him an harangue, imitating therein the ancient 
 Piankeshaw, though with this difference, that, whereas the 
 latter spoke entirely in his own tongue, the former thought 
 fit, among abundance of Indian phrases, to introduce some 
 that were sufficiently English to enable the soldier to guess, 
 at least, at part of his meaning. 
 
 His oration, however, as far as Eoland could understand 
 it, consisted chiefly in informing him that he was a very 
 great chief, who had killed abundance of white people, 
 men, women, and children, whose scalps had for thirty 
 years and more been hanging in the smoke of his Shawnee 
 lodge — ^that he was very brave, and loved a white man's 
 blood better than whiskey, and that he never spared it out 
 of pity — adding, as the cause, and seeming well pleased 
 that he could boast a deficiency so well befitting a warrior, 
 that he "had no heart," his interior being framed of stone 
 as hard as the flinty rock under his feet. 
 
 This exordium finished, he proceeded to bestow sundry 
 abusive epithets upon the prisoner, charging him with 
 having put his young men to a great deal of needless 
 trouble, besides having killed several ; for which, he added, 
 the Long-knife ought to expect nothing better than to have 
 his face blackened and be burnt alive — a hint that pro- 
 duced an universal grunt of assent on the part of the 
 auditors. 
 
 Having received this testimony of approbation, he re- 
 sumed his discourse, pursuing it for the space of ten min- 
 utes or more with considerable vigor and eloquence; but' 
 
204 NICK OP THE "WOODS. 
 
 as the whole speech consisted, like most other Indian 
 speeches, of the same things said over and over again, those 
 same things being scarcely worth the trouble of utterance, 
 we think it needless to say any thing further of it; except 
 that, first, as it seemed to Eoland, as far as he could under- 
 stand the broken expressions of the chief, he delivered a 
 very furious tirade against the demon enemy of his race, 
 the bloody Jibbenainosay, the white man's War-Manito, 
 whom he declared it was his purpose to fight and kill, as 
 soon as that destroyer should have the courage to face him, 
 the old Shawnee chief, like a human warrior, — and that it 
 inspired several others to get up and make speeches like- 
 wise. Of all these the burden seemed to be the unpar- 
 donable crime of killing their comrades, of which the 
 young soldier had been guilty ; and he judged, by the fury 
 of their countenances, that they were only debating 
 whether they should put him to death on the spot, or carry 
 him to their country to be tortured. 
 
 The last speaker of all was the old Piankeshaw, whose 
 meaning could be only guessed at from his countenance 
 and gestures, the one being as angry and woe-begone as the 
 latter were active and expressive. He pointed, at least a 
 dozen times over, to two fresh and gory scalps — ^the most 
 highly valued trophies of victory — that lay at the feet of 
 the Shawnee chief, as many times to the horse, and thrice 
 as often at the person of Eoland, who stood now surveying 
 his dark visage with a look of sullen despair, now casting 
 his eyes with a gaze of inexpressible emotion towards the 
 little copse, in which he still sought in vain a glimpse of 
 his Edith. 
 
 But if the old warrior's finger was often bent towards 
 these three attractive objects, innumerable were the times 
 it was pointed at the two or three little whiskey-kegs, which 
 not having been yet distributed, lay untouched upon the 
 grass. The words with which he accompanied these ex- 
 pressive gestures seemed to produce a considerable effect 
 upon all his hearers, even upon the ancient chief, who, at 
 the close of the oration, giving a sign to one of his young 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. ^05 
 
 men, the latter ran to the copse and instantly returned, 
 bringing with him one of the horses, which the chief im- 
 mediately handed over, through his deputy, to the orator, 
 and the orator to one of the two young warriors, who seemed 
 to be of his own tribe. 
 
 The chief then pointed to a keg of the fire-water, and 
 this was also given to the Piankeshaw, who received it 
 jivith a grin of ecstasy, embraced it, snuffed at its odorif- 
 erous contents, and then passed it in like manner to his 
 second follower. The chief made yet another signal, and 
 the deputy, taking Eoland by the arm, and giving him a 
 piercing, perhaps even a pitying look, delivered him like- 
 wise into the hands of the Piankeshaw, who, as if his hap- 
 piness were now complete, received him with a yell of ]oy, 
 that was caught up by his two companions, and finally 
 joined in by all the savages present. 
 
 This shout seemed to be the signal for the breaking up 
 of the convention. All rose to their feet, iterating and 
 reiterating the savage cry, while the Piankeshaw, clutch- 
 ing his prize, and slipping a noose around the thong that 
 bound his arms, endeavored to drag him to the horse, on 
 which the young men had already secured the keg of 
 liquor, and which they were holding in readiness for the 
 elder barbarian to mount. 
 
 At that conjecture, and while Eoland was beginning to 
 suspect that even the wretched consolation of remaining 
 in captivity by his kinswoman's side was about to be de- 
 nied him, and while the main body of savages were ob- 
 viously bidding farewell to the little bands of Pianke- 
 shaws, some shaking them by the hands, while others made 
 game of the prisoner's distress in sundry Indian ways, 
 and all uttering yells expressive of their different feelings, 
 there appeared rushing from the copse, and running among 
 the barbarians, the damsel Telle Doe, who, not a little to 
 the surprise even of the ill-fated Roland himself, ran to his 
 side, caught the rope by which he was held, and endeavored 
 frantically to snatch it from the hands of the Piankeshaw. 
 
 The act, for one of her peculiarly timorous spirit, was 
 
206 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 surprising enough; but a great transformation seemed to 
 have suddenly taken place in her character and even her 
 appearance, which was less that of a feeble woman en- 
 gaged in a work of humanity, than of a tigress infuriated 
 by the approach of hunters against the lair of her sleeping 
 young. She grasped the cord with unexpected strength, 
 and her eyes flashed fire as they wandered around, until 
 they met those of the supposed half-breed, to whom she 
 called, with tones of the most vehement indignation, — ■ 
 "Oh, father, father ! what are you doing ? You won't give 
 him up to the murderers? You promised, you prom- 
 ised " 
 
 "Peace, fool !" interrupted the man thus addressed, tak- 
 ing her by the arm, and endeavoring to jerk her from the 
 prisoner; "away with you to your place, and be silent." 
 
 "I will not, father; — I will not be silent, I will not 
 away!" cried the girl, resisting his efEorts, and speaking 
 with a voice that mingled the bitterest reproach with im- 
 ploring entreaty; "you are a white man, father, and not 
 an Indian; yes, father, you are no Indian, and you prom- 
 ised no harm should be done, — ^you did, father, you did 
 promise !" 
 
 "Away, gal, I tell you !" thundered the renegade par- 
 ent; and he again strove to drag her from the prisoner. 
 But Telle, as driven frantic by the act, flung her arms 
 round Roland's body, from which she was drawn only by 
 an efllort of strength which her weaker powers were unable 
 to resist. But even then she did not give over her purpose ; 
 but starting from her father's arm, she ran screaming back 
 to Eoland, and would have again clasped him in her own; 
 when the renegade, driven to fury by her opposition, ar- 
 rested her with one hand, and with the other catching up a 
 knife that lay in the grass, he made as if, in his fit of pas- 
 sion, he would have actually plunged it into her breast. 
 His malevolent visage and brutal threat awoke the terrors 
 of the woman in her heart, and she sank on her knees, cry- 
 ing, with a piercing voice, — "Oh, father, don't kill me J 
 don't kill your own daughter !" 
 
" Oh, father, don't kill me! don't kill your own daughter!" 
 said the girl falling on her knees before the outlaw. Page 2o5. 
 
 Nick oj ihe Woods 
 
NICK OF a?HE WOODS. SO^ 
 
 "Kill you, indeed!" muttered the outlaw, with a laugh 
 of scorn ; "even Injuns don't kill their own children ;" and, 
 taking advantage of her terror, he beckoned to the Pianke- 
 shaw, who, as well as all the other Indians, seemed greatly 
 astounded and scandalized at the indecorous interference 
 of a female in the affairs of warriors, to remove the pris- 
 oner ; which he did by immediately beginning to drag him 
 down the hill. The action was not unobserved by the girl, 
 whose struggles to escape from her father's arms, to pursue, 
 as it seemed, after the soldier, Eoland could long see, while 
 her wild and piteous cries were still longer brought to his 
 ears. 
 
 As for Eoland himself, the words and actions of the girl, 
 though they might have awakened the suspicions, not be- 
 fore experienced, of her good faith, and even appeared to 
 show that it was less to unlucky accident than to foul con- 
 spiracy he owed his misfortunes, — did not, and could not, 
 banish the despair that absorbed his mind, to the exclusion 
 of every other feeling. He seemed even to himself to be 
 in a dream, the sport of an incubus, that oppressed every 
 faculty and energy of spirit, while yet presenting the most 
 dreadful phantasms to his imagination. His tongue had 
 lost its function; he strove several times to speak, but 
 tongue and spirit were alike paralyzed. The nightmare 
 oppressed mind and body together. 
 
 It was in this unhappy condition, the result of over- 
 wrought feelings and intolerable bodily suffering, that he 
 was led by his Piankeshaw masters down the hill to the 
 river, which they appeared to be about to pass; whilst the 
 chief body of marauders were left to seek another road from 
 the field of battle. Here the old warrior descended from 
 his horse, and, leaving Roland in charge of the two juniors, 
 stepped a little aside to a place where was a ledge of rocks, 
 in the face of which seemed to be the entrance to a cavern, 
 although carefully blocked up by masses of stone that had 
 been but recently removed from its foot. 
 
 The Piankeshaw, taking post directly in front of the 
 whole, began to utter many mournful ejaculations, which 
 
208 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 were addressed to the insensate rock, or perhaps to the 
 equally insensate corse of a comrade concealed within. 
 He drew, also, from a little pouch — ^his medicine bag — ■ 
 divers bits of bone, wood, and feathers, the most valued 
 idols of his fetich, which he scattered about the rock, sing- 
 ing the while, in a highly lugubrious tone, the praises of 
 the dead, and shedding tears that might have been sup- 
 posed the outpourings of genuine sorrow. 
 
 But if sorrow it was that thus afEected the spirits of the 
 warrior, as it seemed to have done on several previous occa- 
 sions, it proved to be as easily eonsolable as before, as the 
 event showed; for, having finished his lamentations, and 
 left the rock, he advanced towards Eoland, whom he threat- 
 ened for the third time with his knife; when one of the 
 younger Indians muttering a few words of remonstrance, 
 and pointing at the same time to the keg of fire-water 
 on the horse's back, his grief and rage expired together in 
 a haw-haw, ten times more obstreperous and joyous than 
 any he had indulged before. Then mounting the horse, 
 seemingly in the best humor in the world, and taking the 
 end of the cord by which Eoland was bound, he rode into 
 the water, dragging the unfortunate prisoner along at his 
 horse's heels, while the younger Piankeshaws brought up 
 the rear, ready to prevent resistance on the soldier's part, 
 should he prove in any degree refractory. 
 
 In this ignominous manner the unhappy Forrester 
 passed the river, to do which had, for twenty-four hours, 
 been the chief object of his wishes. The ford was wide, 
 deep, and rocky, and the current strong, so that he was 
 several times swept from his feet, and, being unable to rise, 
 would have perished, — happy could he have thus escaped 
 his tormentors, — ^had not the young warriors been nigh to 
 give him assistance. Assistance, in such cases, was indeed 
 always rendered; but his embarrassments and perils only 
 afforded food for mirth to his savage attendants, who, at 
 every fall and dip in the tide, made the hills resound with 
 their vociferous laughter. Ij>i*. only ^mong .children (we 
 mean, of course, bad ones) and savages, who are but grown 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 309 
 
 children, after all, that we find malice and mirth go hand 
 in ISndTMrhe Tvil"l~t5 create misery, and the power to see 
 it invested in ludicrous colors. 
 
 The river was at last crossed, and the bank being as- 
 cended, the three warriors paused a moment to send their 
 last greeting across to their allies, who were seen climbing 
 the hill, taking their own departure from the battle-ground. 
 Even Roland was stirred from his stupefaction, as he be- 
 held the train, some on foot, some on the captured horses, 
 winding up the narrow road to the hill-top. He looked 
 among them for his Edith, and saw her, or fancied he saw 
 her, for the distance was considerable, — supported on one 
 of the animals, grasped in the arms of a tall savage, the 
 guard of the grove, whose scarlet turban, glittering in the 
 sunshine, and his ample white blanket flowing over the 
 flanks of the horse, made the most conspicuous objects in 
 the train. But while he looked, barbarian and captive 
 vanished together behind the hill, for they were at the head 
 of the train. There remained a throng of footmen, who 
 paused an instant on the crest of the ridge to return the 
 farewell whoop of the three Piankeshaws. This being 
 done, they likewise vanished ; and the Piankeshaws, turning 
 their faces towards the west, and dragging the prisoner 
 after them, resumed their journey. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, 
 While night's black agents to their prey do rouse. 
 
 — MacbetK. 
 
 The agony which Roland sufEered from the thong so 
 tightly secured upon his virists, was so far advantageous, 
 as it distracted his mind from the subject which had at 
 first been the chief source of his distress; for it was im- 
 possible to think long even of his kinswoman, while endur- 
 ing tortures that were aggravated by every jerk of the rope, 
 
210 NICK OS' THE WOODS. 
 
 by which he was dragged along; these were growing more 
 insupportable every moment. His sufferings, however, 
 seemed to engage little of the thoughts of his conductors, 
 who, leaving the buffalo-road, and striking into the path- 
 less forest, pushed onward at a rapid pace, compelling him 
 to keep up with them; and it was not until he had twice 
 fainted from pain and exhaustion, that, after some discus- 
 sion, they thought fit to loosen the thong, which they after- 
 wards removed altogether. 
 
 Then, whether it was that they were touched at last 
 with compassion, or afraid that death might snatch the 
 prisoner from their hands, if too severely treated, they 
 proceeded even to take other measures of a seemingly 
 friendly kind, to allay his pangs; washing his lacerated 
 wrists in a little brook, on whose banks they paused to 
 give him rest, and then binding them up, as well as the 
 two or three painful, though not dangerous wounds he had 
 received, with green leaves, which one of the juniors 
 plucked, bruised, and applied with every appearance of 
 the most brotherly interest; while the other, to equal, or 
 surpass him in benevolence, took the keg of whiskey from 
 the horse's back, and filling a little wooden bowl that he 
 took from the pack, insisted that the prisoner should 
 swallow it. In this recommendation the old Piankeshaw 
 also concurred; but finding that Eoland recoiled with dis- 
 gust, after an attempt to taste the fiery liquor, he took the 
 bowl into his own hands, and despatched its contents at a 
 draught. "Good ! great good !" he muttered, smacking his 
 lips with high gusto ; "white man make good drink — - 
 Piankeshaw great friend white man's liquor." 
 
 Having thus opened their hearts, nothing could be, to 
 appearance, more friendly and affectionate than the bear- 
 ing of the savages, at least so long as they remained at the 
 brook; and even when the journey was resumed, which it 
 soon was, their deportment was but little less loving. It 
 is true, that the senior, before mounting his horse, pro- 
 ceeded very coolly to clap the noose, which had previously 
 been placed on Eoland's arms, around his neck, where it 
 
KICK OF THE WOODS. 211 
 
 bade fair to strangle him, at the first false step of the horse ; 
 but the young Indians walked at his side, chattering in 
 high good humor; though, as their stock of English ex- 
 tended only to the single phrase, "Bozhoo, brudder," which 
 was not in itself very comprehensive, though repeated at 
 least twice every minute, it may be supposed their conversa- 
 tion had no very enlivening effect on the prisoner. 
 
 Nor was the old Piankeshaw much behind the juniors 
 in good humor; though, it must be confessed, his feelings 
 were far more capricious and evanescent. One while he 
 would stop his horse, and dragging Eoland to his side, pat 
 him affectionately on the shoulder, and tell him, as well 
 as his broken language could express his intentions, that 
 he would take him to the springs of the Wabash, one of 
 the principal seats of his nation, and make him his son and 
 a great warrior; while at other times, having indulged in 
 a fit of sighing, groaning, and crying, he would turn, in a 
 towering rage, and express a resolution to kill him on the 
 spot, — from which bloody disposition, however, he was 
 always easily turned by the interference of the young 
 men. 
 
 These capricious changes were, perhaps, owing, in a 
 great measure, to the presence of the whiskey-keg, which 
 the old warrior ever and anon took from its perch among 
 the packs behind him, and applied to his lips, sorely, as it 
 appeared, against the will of his companions, who seemed 
 to remonstrate with him against a practice so unbecoming 
 a warrior, while in the heart of a foeman's country, and not 
 a little also against his own sense of propriety; for his 
 whole course in relation to the keg was like that of a fish 
 that dallies round the angler's worm, uncertain whether 
 to bite, now looking and longing, now suspecting the hook 
 and retreating, now returning to look and long again, until 
 finally unable to resist the temptation, it resolves upon a 
 little nibble, which ends, even against its own will, in a 
 furious bite. 
 
 It was in this manner the Piankeshaw addressed him- 
 self to his treasure; the effect of which was to render each 
 
212 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 letuming paroxysm of affection and sorrow more energetic 
 than before, while it gradually robbed of their malignity 
 those fits of anger with which he was still occasionally 
 seized ; but it added double fluency to his tongue ; and not 
 content with muttering his griefs in his own language, ad- 
 dressing them to his people, he finally began to pronounce 
 them in English, directing them at Eoland; whereby the 
 latter was made acquainted with the cause of his sorrow; 
 this, it appeared, was nothing less than the loss of a son, 
 killed in the battle with the Kentuckians, and left to 
 moulder, with two or three Shawnee corses, in the cave by 
 the river side; which loss he commemorated a dozen times 
 over, and with a most piteous voice, in a lament that cele- 
 brated the young warrior's virtues. 
 
 "Lost son!" he ejaculated; "good huntaw: kill bear, 
 kill bufl'alo, catch fish, feed old squaw, and young squaw, 
 and little papoose — good son ! mighty good son ! Good 
 fighting man : kill man Virginnee, kill man Kentucky, kill 
 man Injun-man; take scalp, squaw scalp, papoose scalp, 
 man scalp, all kind of scalp — debbil good fighting man! 
 No go home no more Piankeshaw nation; no more kill 
 bear, no more kill buffalo, no more catch fish, no more feed 
 old squaw, and young squaw, and little papoose; no more 
 kill man, no more take scalp — lose own scalp, take it Long- 
 knife man Kentucky; no more see old Piankeshaw son, 
 leave dead, big hole Kentucky; no more see no more 
 Piankeshaw son, Piankeshaw nation!" 
 
 With such lamentations, running at times into rage 
 against his prisoner, as the representative of those who 
 had shed the young warrior's blood, the old Piankeshaw 
 whiled away the hours of travel; ceasing them only when 
 seized with a fit of affection, or when some misstep of the 
 horse sent a louder gurgle, with a more delicious odor, 
 from the cask at his back; which music and perfume to- 
 gether were a kind of magic not to be resisted by one who 
 stood so greatly in need of consolation. 
 
 The effect of such constant and liberal visitations to the 
 comforter and enemy of his race, continued for several 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 313 
 
 hours together, was soon made manifest in the old warrior, 
 who grew more loquacious, more lachrymose, and more 
 foolish every moment; until, by and by, having travelled 
 till towards sunset, a period of six or seven hours from the 
 time of setting out, he began to betray the most incontes- 
 tible evidences of intoxication. He reeled on the horse's 
 back, and, finally, becoming tired of the weight of his gun, 
 he extended it to Eoland, with a very magisterial yet 
 friendly nod, as if bidding him take and carry it. It was 
 snatched from him, however, by one of the younger war- 
 riors, who was too wise to intrust a loaded carbine in the 
 arms of a prisoner, and who had, perhaps, noted the sud- 
 den gleam of fire, the first which had visited them since 
 the moment of his capture, that shot in Eoland's eyes, as 
 he stretched forth his hands to take the weapon. 
 
 The old Piankeshaw did not seem to notice who had 
 relieved him of the burden. He settled himself again on 
 the saddle as well as he could, and jogged onward, prattling 
 and weeping, according to the mood of the moment, now 
 droning out an Indian song, and now nodding with drow- 
 siness; until at last slumber or stupefaction settled so 
 heavily upon his senses that he became incapable of guid- 
 ing his horse; and the weary animal, checked by the un- 
 conscious rider, or stopping of his own accord to browse 
 the green cane-leaves along the path, the Piankeshaw sud- 
 denly took a lurch wider than usual, and fell, like a log, to 
 the ground. 
 
 The younger savages had watched the course of proceed- 
 ings on the part of the senior with ill-concealed dissatisfac- 
 tion. The catastrophe completed their rage, which, how- 
 ever, was fortunately expended upon the legitimate cause 
 of displeasure. They tumbled the unlucky cask from its 
 perch, and, assailing it with horrible yells and as much ap- 
 parent military zeal as could have been exercised upon a 
 human enemy lying in like manner at their feet, they 
 dashed it to pieces with their tomahawks, scattering its 
 precious contents upon the grass. 
 
 While they were thus engaged, the senior rose from the 
 
214 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 earth, staring about him for a moment with looks of 
 stupid inquiry ; until, beginning at last to comprehend the 
 accident that had happened to him, and perhaps moved by 
 the fate of his treasure, he also burst into a fury; and 
 snatching up the nearest gun, he clapped it to the horse's 
 head, and shot it dead on the spot, roaring out, "Cuss' 
 white-man hoss! throw ole Piankeshaw! No good noth- 
 ing ! Cuss' debbil hoss !" 
 
 This act of drunken and misdirected ferocity seemed 
 vastly to incense the younger warriors ; and the senior wax- 
 ing as wrathful at the wanton destruction of his liquor, 
 there immediately ensued a battle of tongues betwixt the 
 two parties, who scolded and rated one another for the 
 space of ten minutes or more with prodigious volubility 
 and energy, the juniors expatiating upon the murder of 
 the horse as an act of the most unpardonable folly, while 
 the senior seemed to insist that the wasting of so much good 
 liquor was a felony of equally culpable dye ; and it is prob- 
 able he had the better side of the argument, since he con- 
 tinued to grumble for a long time, even after he had 
 silenced the others. 
 
 But peace was at last restored, and the savages prepared 
 to resume their journey; but not until they had unani- 
 mously resolved, that the consequences of the quarrel should 
 be visited upon the head of the captive. Their apparent 
 good-humor vanished, and the old Piankeshaw, stagger- 
 ing up, gave Eoland to understand, in an oration full of 
 all the opprobrious epithets he could muster, either in 
 English or Indian, that he, the Piankeshaw, being a very 
 great warrior, intended to carry him to his country, to 
 run the gauntlet through every village of the nation, and 
 then to burn him alive, for the satisfaction of the women 
 and children ; and while pouring this agreeable intelligence 
 into the soldier's ears, the juniors took the opportunity to 
 tie his arms a second time, heaping on his shoulders their 
 three packs; to which the old man afterwards insisted on 
 adding the saddle and bridle of the horse, though for no 
 very ostensible object, together with a huge mass of the 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 215 
 
 flesh, dug with his knife from the still quivering carcass, 
 which was perhaps designed for their supper. 
 
 Under this heavy load, the unhappy and degraded sol- 
 dier was compelled to stagger along with his masters ; but 
 fortunately for no long period. The night was fast ap- 
 proaching; and having soon arrived at a little glade in 
 the forest, where a spring of sweet water bubbled from the 
 grass, they signified their intention to make it their camp- 
 ing ground for the night. A fire was struck, the horse- 
 flesh stuck upon a fork and roasted, and a share of it ten- 
 dered to the prisoner; who, sick at heart, and feverish in 
 body, refused it with as much disgust as he had shown at 
 the whiskey, expressing his desire only to drink of the 
 spring, which he was allowed to do to his liking. 
 
 The savages then collected grass and leaves, with which 
 they spread a couch under a tree beside their fire; and 
 here, having compelled the soldier to lie down, they pro- 
 ceeded to secure him for the night with a cruel care, that 
 showed what value the loss of the horse and fire-water, the 
 only other trophies of victory, led them to attach to him. 
 A stake was cut and laid across his breast, and to the ends 
 of this his out-stretched arms were bound at both wrist 
 and elbow. A pole was then laid upon his body, to the 
 extremities of which his feet and neck were also bound ; so 
 that he was secured as upon, or rather under, a cross, with- 
 out the power of moving hand or foot. As if even this 
 were not enough to satisfy his barbarous companions, they 
 attached an additional cord to his neck; and this, when 
 they lay down beside him to sleep, one of the young war- 
 riors wrapped several times round his own arm, so that 
 the slightest movement of the prisoner, were such a thing 
 possible, must instantly rouse the jealous savage from his 
 slumbers. 
 
 These preparations being completed, the young men lay 
 doWn, one on each side of the prisoner, and were soon fast 
 asleep. 
 
 The old Piankeshaw, meanwhile, sat by the fire, now 
 musing in drunken revelry, — "in cogibundity of cogita- 
 
216 NICK OF THE WOODS, 
 
 tion," — ^now grumbling a lament for his perisHed son, 
 which, by a natural license of afHietion, he managed to 
 intermingle with regrets for his lost liquor, and occasion- 
 ally heaping maledictions upon the heads of his wasteful 
 companions, or soliciting the prisoner's attention to an 
 account that he gave him, at least six times over, of the 
 peculiar ceremonies which would be observed in burning 
 him, when once safely bestowed in the Piankeshaw nation. 
 In this manner, the old savage, often nodding, but always 
 rousing, again succeeded in amusing himself nearly half 
 the night long; and it was not until near midnight that 
 he thought fit, after stirring up the fire, and adding a fresh 
 log to it, to stretch himself beside one of the juniors, and 
 grumble himself to sleep. A few explosive and convulsive 
 snorts, such as might have done honor to the nostrils of a 
 war-horse, marked the gradations by which he sank to re- 
 pose; then came the deep, long-drawn breath of mental 
 annihilation, such as distinguished the slumber of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 To the prisoner alone sleep was wholly denied, for which 
 the renewed agonies of his bonds, tied with the supreme 
 contempt for suffering which always marks the conduct of 
 savages to their captives, would have been sufficient cause, 
 had there even been no superior pangs of spirit to banish 
 the comforter from his eyelids. Of his feelings, during the 
 journey from the river, which, in consequence of number- 
 less delays caused by the old Piankeshaw's drunkenness, 
 could scarce have been left more than eight or ten miles 
 behind — we have said but little, since imagination can only 
 picture them properly to the reader. 
 
 Grief, anguish, despair, and the sense of degradation 
 natural to a man of spirit, a slave in the hands of coarse 
 barbarians, kept his spirit for a long time wholly subdued 
 and torpid; and it was not until he perceived the old 
 Piankeshaw's repeated potations and their effects, that he 
 began to wake from his lethargy, and question himself 
 whether he might not yet escape, and, flying to the nearest 
 settlements for assistance, strike a blow for the recovery of 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 217 
 
 his kinswoman. Weak from exhaustion and wounds, en- 
 tirely unarmed, and closely watched, as he perceived he 
 was, by the young warriors, notwithstanding their affected 
 friendship, it was plain that nothing could be hoped for, 
 except from caution on his part, and the most besotted 
 folly on that of his captors. This folly was already made 
 perceptible in at least one of the party ; and as he watched 
 the oft-repeated visitations of the senior to the little keg, 
 he began to anticipate the period when the young men 
 should also betake themselves to the stupefying draught, 
 and give him the opportunity he longed for with frantic, ^ 
 though concealed, impatience. 
 
 This hope fell when the cask was dashed to pieces; but 
 hope, once excited, did not easily forsake him. He had 
 heard and read of escapes made by captives like himself 
 from Indians when encamped by night in the woods, — ^nay, 
 of escapes made when the number of captors and the 
 feebleness of the captive (for even women and boys had 
 thus obtained their deliverance) , rendered the condition of 
 the latter still more wretched than his own. Why might 
 not he, a man and soldier, guarded by only three foemen, 
 succeed, as others had succeeded, in freeing himself ? 
 
 This question, asked over and over again, and each time 
 answered with greater hope and animation than before, 
 employed his mind until his wary captors had tied him to 
 the stakes, as has been mentioned, leaving him as incapable 
 of motion as if every limb has been solidified into stone. 
 Had the barbarians been able to look into his soul at the 
 moment when he first strove to test the strength of the 
 ligatures, and found them resisting his efforts like bands 
 of brass, they would have beheld deeper and wilder tor- 
 tures than any they could hope to inflict, even at the stake. 
 The effort was repeated once, twice, thrice — a thousand 
 times — but always in vain ; the cords were too securely tied, 
 the stakes too carefully placed, to yield to his puny strug- 
 gles. He was a prisoner in reality — without resource, 
 without help, without hope. 
 
 And thus he passed the whole of the bitter night, watch- 
 
SIS NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 ing the slow progress of moments counted only by the 
 throbbings of his fevered temples, the deep breathings of 
 the Indians, and the motion of the stars creeping over the 
 vista opened to the skies from the little glade, a prey to 
 despair, made so much more poignant by disappointment 
 and self-reproach. Why had he not taken advantage of 
 his temporary release from the cords, to attempt escape 
 by open flight, when the drunkenness of the old Pianke- 
 shaw would have increased the chances of success ? He had 
 lost his best ally in the cask of liquor; but he resolved — 
 if the delirious plans of a mind tossed by the most f rensied 
 passions could be called resolutions, — a second day should 
 not pass by without an effort better becoming a soldier, bet- 
 ter becoming the only friend and natural protector of the 
 hapless Edith. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the night passed slowly away; the 
 moon, diminished to a ghastly crescent, rose over the 
 woods, looking down with a sickly smile upon the prisoner, 
 — an emblem of his decayed fortunes and waning hopes; 
 and a pale streak, the first dull glimmer of dawn, was 
 seen stealing up the skies. But neither moon nor streak 
 of dawn yet threw light upon the little glade. The watch- 
 fire had burned nearly away, and its flames no longer illu- 
 minated the scene. The crackling of the embers, with an 
 occasional echo from the wood hard by, as of the rustling 
 of a rabbit, or other small animal, dravm by the unusual 
 appearance of fire near his favorite fountain, to satisfy a 
 timorous curiosity, was the only sound to be heard; for 
 the Indians were in the dead sleep of morning, and their 
 breathing was no longer audible. 
 
 The silence and darkness together were doubly painful 
 to Eoland, who had marked the streak of dawn, and longed 
 with fierce impatience for the moment when he should be 
 again freed from his bonds, and left to attempt some of 
 those desperate expedients which he had been planning all 
 the night long. In such a frame of mind, even the acci- 
 dental falling of a half-consumed brand upon the embers, 
 and its sudden kindling into flame, were circumstances of 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 319 
 
 an agreeable nature ; and the ruddy glare thrown over the 
 boughs above his head was welcomed as the return of a 
 friend, bringing with it hope, and even a share of his long- 
 lost tranquillity. 
 
 But tranquillity was not fated to dwell long in his 
 bosom. At that very moment, and while the blaze of the 
 brand was brightest, his ears were stunned by an explosion 
 bursting like a thunderbolt at his very head, but whether 
 coming from earth or air, from the hands of heaven or the 
 fire-lock of a human being, he knew not ; and immediately 
 after there sprang a huge dark shadow over his body, and 
 there was heard a crash as of an axe falling upon the flesh 
 of the young Indian who slept on his right side. A dis- 
 mal shriek, the utterance of agony and terror, rose from 
 the barbarian's lips ; and then came the sound of his foot- 
 steps, as he darted, with a cry still wilder, into the forest, 
 pursued by the sound of other steps; and then all again 
 was silent, — all save the groans, and the rustling in the 
 grass, of limbs convulsed in the death-throe at the soldier's 
 side. 
 
 Astounded, bewildered, and even horror-struck, by these 
 incomprehensible events, the work of but an instant, and 
 all unseen by Eoland, who, from his position, could look 
 only upwards towards the boughs and skies, he would have 
 thought himself in a dream, but for the agonized struggles 
 of the young Indian at his side, which he could plainly 
 feel as well as hear; until by and by they subsided, as if in 
 sudden death. Was it a rescue? was that shot fired by a 
 friend? that axe wielded by a human auxiliary? those 
 sounds of feet dying away in the distance, were they the 
 steps of a deliverer? The thought was ecstasy, and he 
 shouted aloud, "Eetum, friend, and loose me ! return !" 
 
 No voice replied to the shout; but it roused from the 
 earth a dark and bloody figure, which, staggering and fall- 
 ing over the body of the young warrior, crawled like a 
 scotched reptile upon Eoland's breast; when the light of 
 the fire shining upon it revealed to his eyes the horrible 
 spectacle of the old Piankeshaw warrior, the lower part of 
 
220 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 his face shot entirely away, and his eyes rolling hideously, 
 and, as it seemed, sightlessly, in the pangs of death, his 
 hand clutching the knife with which he had so often 
 threatened, and with which he yet seemed destined to take, 
 though in the last gasp of his own, the soldier's life. With 
 one hand he felt along the prisoner's body, as if seeking a 
 vital part, and sustained his own weight, while with the 
 other he made repeated, though feeble and ineffectual, 
 strokes with the knife, all the time rolling, and staggering, 
 and shaking his gory head in a manner most horrible to 
 behold. But vengeance was denied the dying warrior ; his 
 blows were offered impotently and without aim; and, be- 
 coming weaker at every effort, his left arm at last failed 
 to support him, and he fell across Eoland's body ; in which 
 position he immediately after expired. 
 
 In this frightful condition Eoland was left, shocked, 
 although relieved from fear, by the savage's death, crying 
 in vain to his unknown auxiliary for assistance. He ex- 
 erted his voice, until the woods rang with his shouts; but 
 hollow echoes were the only replies; neither voice nor re- 
 turning footsteps was to be heard; and it seemed as if he 
 had been rescued from the Indians' hands, only to be left, 
 bound and helpless, to perish piecemeal among their bodies. 
 The fear of a fate so dreadful, with the weight of the old 
 Piankeshaw, a man of almost gigantic proportions, lying 
 upon his bosom, was more than his agonized spirits and 
 exhausted strength could endure; and his wounds sud- 
 denly bursting out afresh, he lapsed into a state of insensi- 
 bility, — in which, however, it was happily his fate not long 
 to remain. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 Never did captive with a freer heart 
 
 Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace 
 
 His golden, uncontroll'd enfranchisement. 
 
 — Richard II. 
 
 When Eoland recovered his consciousness, he was no 
 longer a prisoner extended beneath the Indian cross. His 
 limbs were unbound, and he himself lying across the knees 
 of a man who was busily engaged sprinkling his head and 
 breast with water from the little well, to which he had been 
 borne while still insensible. He stared around him with 
 eyes yet filmy and vacant. The first objects they fell on 
 were two lifeless figures, the bodies of his late savage mas- 
 ters, stretched near the half-extinguished fire. He looked 
 up to the face of his deliverer, which could be readily seen, 
 for it was now broad day, and beheld, with such thriU of 
 pleasure as had not visited his bosom for many weary days, 
 the features of his trusty guide and emissary, honest Na- 
 than Slaughter, who was pursuing the work of resuscita- 
 tion with great apparent zeal, while little dog Peter stood 
 by waggiag his tail, as if encouraging him to perseverance. 
 
 "What, Nathan !" he cried, grasping at his hand, and 
 endeavoring, though vainly, to rise from his knee, "do I 
 dream! is it you?" 
 
 "Verily, thee speaks the truth," replied Nathan; — "it 
 is me — me and little Peter; and, truly, it is nobody else." 
 
 "And I am free again? free, free! And the savages? 
 the vile, murdering Piankeshaws ? Dead ! surprised, killed 
 — every dog of them !" 
 
 "Thee speaks the truth a second time," said Nathan 
 Slaughter, snufBing and hesitating in his speech; "the 
 wicked enemies and captivators will never trouble thee 
 more." 
 
 'And who — ^who was it that rescued me? Haii! there 
 is blood on your face ! your hands are red with it ! It was 
 i/oUf then, that save4 we ? you that killed the accursed cut- 
 
S22 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 throats ? Noble Nathan ! brave Nathan ! true Nathan ! 
 how shall I ever requite the act — ^how shall I ever forget 
 it?" And as he spoke, the soldier, yet lying across Na- 
 than's knees, for his limbs refused to support him, grasped 
 his preserver's hands with a fervor of gratitude that gave 
 new life and vigor to his exhausted spirits. 
 
 "And thee does not think then," muttered Nathan, 
 snufQing twice as much as before, but growing bolder as 
 Eoland's gratitude reassured him — "thee does not think — 
 that is, thee is not of opinion — that is to say, thee does not 
 altogether hold it to be as a blood-guiltiness, and a wicked- 
 ness, and a shedding of blood, that I did take to me the 
 weapon of war, and shoot upon the wicked oppressors, to 
 the saving of thee life ? Truly, friend, it was to save thee 
 life — thee must remember that; it was as a thing that was 
 necessary, and not to be helped. Truly, friend, it was my 
 desire to help thee in peace, and with a peaceful hand; 
 but, of a truth, there was thee enemies at thee side, with 
 their guns and their knives ready to start up and knock out 
 thee unfortunate brains. Truly, friend, thee sees it 
 couldn't be helped; and, truly, I don't think thee con- 
 science can condemn me." 
 
 "Condemn you indeed !" cried the young man ; "it was 
 an act to bind my gratitude for ever — an act to win you 
 the admiration and respect of the whole world, which I 
 shall take care to make acquainted with it." 
 
 "Nay, friend," said Nathan, hastily, "the less thee says 
 of it the better; if thee is theeself satisfied in thee con- 
 science of its lawfulness, it is enough. Do thee there- 
 fore hold thee tongue on this and all other matters wherein 
 thee has seen me do evil ; for, truly, I am a man of peaceful 
 faith, and what I have done would be but as a grief and 
 a scandal to the same." 
 
 "But my friends — ^my poor Edith! — ^wretch that I am 
 to think of myself, or of others, while she is still a cap- 
 tive !" cried Roland, again endeavoring to rise. But his 
 limbs, yet paralyzed from the tightness with which the 
 thongs had been bound around them, tottered beneath him. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 223 
 
 and but for Nathan, he must have fallen to the earth. 
 "The emigrants," he continued, with incoherent haste; — 
 "you brought them I They are pursuing the savages ? they 
 have rescued her? Speak, Nathan — tell me all; tell me 
 that my cousin is free !" 
 
 "Truly, friend," muttered Nathan, his countenance los- 
 ing much of the equanimity that had begun to cover it, 
 and assuming a darker and disturbed expression, "thee 
 doth confuse both theeself and me with many questions. 
 Do thee be content for awhile, till I chafe thee poor legs, 
 which is like the legs of a dead man, and tie up thee 
 wounds. When thee can stand up and walk, thee shall 
 know all I have to tell thee, both good and bad. It is 
 enough thee is theeself safe." 
 
 "Alas ! I read it all from your looks,^' cried the soldier ; 
 "Edith is still a prisoner ; and I lie here a miserable crushed 
 worm, incapable of aiding, unable even to die for her! 
 But the emigrants, my friends? they are at least urging 
 the pursuit ? there is a hope they will retake her ?" 
 
 "Truly, friend," said Nathan, "thee shall know all, if 
 thee will but have patience, and hold thee tongue. Truly, 
 the many things thee says doth perplex me. If thee loves 
 thee poor kinswoman, and would save her from cruel bond- 
 age and sorrow, thee must be quiet till I have put thee 
 again upon thee legs ; which is the first thing to be thought 
 about; and after that, thee shall have my counsel and 
 help to do what is good and proper for the maiden's re- 
 jieeming." 
 
 With these words, Nathan again addressed himself to 
 the task of chafing Eoland's half-lifeless limbs, and bind- 
 ing up the several light, though painful wounds which he 
 had received in the conflict; and the soldier submitting 
 in despair, though still entreating Nathan to tell him the 
 worst, the latter began at last to relate his story. 
 
 The bold attempt of Nathan to pass the line of besiegers 
 at the ruin, it seemed, he had accomplished without diffi- 
 culty, though not without risk ; but this part of the narra- 
 tive he hurried over^ as well as his passage of the river at 
 
S24 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 a solitary and dangerous ford in the wildest recesses of the 
 forest. Then, striking through the woods, and aiming for 
 the distant station, he had arrived within but a few miles 
 of it when it was his fortune to stumble upon the band of 
 Regulators, who, after their memorable exploit at the beech- 
 tree, had joined the emigrants, then on their march through 
 the woods, and conveyed them to the station. 
 
 Here passing the night in mirth and frolic, they were 
 startled at an early hour by the alarming intelligence, 
 brought by a volunteer hunter, who had obtained it none 
 could tell how, of the presence of the Indian army on the 
 north side ; and leaving their friends to arm and follow as 
 they could, the visitors immediately mounted their horses 
 to return to Bruce's station, and thence to seek the field of 
 battle. To these unexpected friends, thus opportunely met 
 in the woods, Nathan imparted his story, acquainting them, 
 in the same words of the presence of enemies so much 
 nearer at hand than was dreamed, and of the unfortunate 
 dilemma of Forrester and his helpless party— an account 
 that fired the blood of the hot youths as effectually as it 
 could have done if expressed in the blast of a bugle. 
 
 A council of war being called on the spot, it was resolved 
 to gallop at once to the rescue of the travellers, without 
 wasting time in seeking additional assistance from the 
 emigrants or their neighbors of the station just left; 
 which indeed, as from Nathan's observations, it did not 
 seem that the numbers of the foe could be more than double 
 their own, the heroic youths held to be entirely needless. 
 Taking Nathan up, therefore, behind him, and bearing 
 him along to point out the position of the Indians, the 
 gallant Tom Bruce, followed by his equally gallant com- 
 panions, dashed through the woods, and succeeded by day- 
 break in reaching the ruin; where, as Nathan averred, so 
 judiciously had they laid their plans for the attack, the 
 Indians, if still there, might have been surprised, entirely 
 worsted, and perhaps the half of them cut off upon the 
 spot; "which," as he rather hastily observed, "would have 
 been a great comfort to all concerned." 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 825 
 
 But the ruin was deserted, besiegers and besieged had 
 alike vanished, as well as the bodies of those assailants 
 who had fallen in the conflict, to find their graves under 
 the ruins, among the rocks, or in the whirling eddies of 
 the river. The tracks of the horses being discovered in 
 the ravine and at the water's edge, it was inferred that the 
 whole party, too desperate, or too wise, to yield themselves 
 prisoners, had been driven into the river, and there 
 drowned; and this idea inflaming the fury of the Ken- 
 tuckians to the highest pitch, they sought out and easily 
 discovered among the canes, the fresh trail of the Indians, 
 which they followed, resolving to exact the fullest measure 
 of revenge. 
 
 Nathan, the man of peace, from whom (for he had not 
 thought proper to acquaint the young men with the war- 
 like part he had himself taken in the battles of the night) 
 no further services were expected, was now turned adrift, 
 to follow, or protect himself as he might; and the young 
 men betook themselves to the pursuit with as much speed 
 as the wild character of the woods permitted. But it 
 formed no part of honest Nathan's designs to be left be- 
 hind. His feelings were too deeply involved in the fate 
 of the unhappy individuals, whose misadventures he could, 
 or thought he could, so clearly trace to his own indiscre- 
 tion, to sufEer him to rest, while it was yet wrapped in 
 obscurity. He had accepted the charge and responsibility 
 of extricating them from their perils; and his conscience 
 could not be appeased until he had determined for himself 
 whether in truth they were yet beyond the reach of as- 
 sistance. 
 
 Making his own observations from the appearance of 
 the different tracks in the ravine, and satisfying himself 
 there was among them one more Christian footprint than 
 could be accounted for, he followed after the young men, 
 examining the Indian trail in places where it had not been 
 effaced by the Kentuckians, until he became convinced 
 that the fugitives had, in some unaccountable way, escaped 
 alive from the river, and were still struggling in retreat, 
 
226 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 led by some friendly guide, although closely pursued by the 
 foe. This discovery, it was also probable, had been made 
 by the Kentuckians, who had, in consequence, urged their 
 horses to the utmost, and arriving on the hill where the 
 savages lay in ambush, rushed to the attack, and fought 
 and lost the battle before Nathan could reach them. He 
 met them, indeed, retreating in full rout before the vic- 
 tors, many wounded, all overcome by panic, and none will- 
 ing or able to throw any light upon the cause of defeat. 
 
 One, indeed, cheeking his horse a moment to bid the 
 man of peace look to himself and avoid the savages, who 
 were still urging the pursuit, hastily assured him that the 
 defeat was all owing to Captain Ralph's ghost, which had 
 suddenly got among them, yelling for vengeance on his 
 executioners; for which reason the conscience-stricken 
 Regulator called Nathan to witness his oath, which he 
 now made, "that he would never lynch a man again as 
 long as he lived." And the worthy warrior, having 
 added, with another oath, which he called a still superior 
 power to attest, "that he had seen Stackpole fly ofE with 
 Tom Bruce's soul on the back of a devil in shape of a 
 big black horse breathing ilames and sulphur," struck spur 
 again into his own charger — ^not, however, until he had 
 first generously invited Bloody Nathan to get up behind 
 him, to escape the savage pursuers who were now seen 
 close behind. 
 
 Declining the heroic ofFer, and bidding' the youth effect 
 his own escape, Nathan immediately dived, with his in- 
 separable friend and adviser, little Peter, among the canes ; 
 where he lay concealed until well assured the victors had 
 abandoned the pursuit, and returned to the field of battle. 
 
 "Then, friend," said the man of peace, who may now be 
 permitted to tell his own story, "I took counsel of Peter 
 as to what we should do ; and, truly, it was our opinion we 
 should creep after the murdering Shawnee creatures 
 (though, verily, there was more than Shawnees engaged in 
 this wicked business) and see what had become of thee, 
 and thee poor women ; being that we were in a manner, as 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. SS'}' 
 
 I may say, the cause of thee troubles, in carrying thee to 
 the very place where we should not, wicked sinners that we 
 are — that is, wicked sinner that I am; for, truly, little 
 Peter had nothing to do with that matter, having done his 
 best to keep us from the ruin. 
 
 "Well, friend, as soon as we thought it safe, we crept 
 to the spot on the hillside; and safe enough it was, the 
 savages having departed, leaving nothing behind them, 
 save two young Kentuckians, and the colored person, whom 
 they had prevailed over, and hewn to pieces with their 
 hatchets; besides four corpses of their own, which they 
 had stuck in a cave, where Peter snuffed them out — truly, 
 friend, thee don't know what a nose little Peter has ! Well, 
 friend, I saw then that thee enemies had divided, the main 
 body departing one way over the hill, while a smaller party 
 had crossed the river with a horse and prisoner. Truly, 
 it was Peter's opinion that this prisoner was theeself, — 
 thee own very self (a thing I could not be so certain of on 
 my part, seeing that I had never tracked thee save by thee 
 horse-prints only), and that, if we followed thee, we might, 
 in some way, aid thee to escape, thee captivators being so 
 few in number. 
 
 "And so, friend, we waded the river, and followed thee 
 trail until night came ; when little Peter undertook to nose 
 thee on in the dark ! which he did very successfully, until 
 we reached the place where the savages had killed their 
 horse and broken their cask of liquor; when, truly, the 
 scent of the same did so prevail over Peter's nose, that I 
 was in fear he never would smell right again in all his life ; 
 which was a great -grief to me ; for, truly, Peter's nose is, 
 as I may say, the staff of my life, my defence, and my suc- 
 cour— (truly, thee don't know the value of little Peter's 
 nose !) And, moreover, the savor of the dead horse did 
 somewhat captivate his attention ; for, truly, little Peter is 
 but a dog, and he loves horse-flesh. 
 
 "Well, friend, this was a thing that perplexed me ; until, 
 by and by, having brought little Peter to reason in the 
 matter of the horse, and washed his nose in a brook which 
 
238 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 it was my fortune to discover, he did bethink him what he 
 was after, and so straightway hunt for the track; which 
 being recovered, we went on our way, until we lighted right 
 on thee captivators' camp-fire ; and, truly, we lighted upon 
 it much sooner than we expected. 
 
 "Well, friend," continued the narrator, "having crept 
 up as near as I durst, I could see how thee was fixed, tied 
 to the poles so thee could not help theeself, and the three 
 savages lying beside thee, with their guns in the hollows of 
 their arms, ready to be seized in a moment. Truly, friend, 
 the sight threw me into another perplexity; and I lay 
 watching thee and thee cruel oppressors for more than an 
 hour, marveling in what way I could give thee help." 
 
 "An hour !" cried Eoland ; "a friend lying by me during 
 that hour, the most wretched and distracted of my whole 
 existence! Had you but cut the rope, and given me the 
 knife to strike a blow for myself !" 
 
 "Trulj," said the man of peace, "I did so desire to do, 
 seeing that then thee might have killed the Injuns theeself ; 
 which would have been more seemly, as being a thing thee 
 conscience would not disapprove of ; whereas mine, as thee 
 may suppose, was quite averse to any such bloody doings 
 on my own part. But, truly, I durst not adventure upon 
 the thing thee speaks of; for, first, I saw by the stick on 
 thee breast, thee was tied so tight and fast, it would be an 
 hour's work to cut thee loose, — thee captivators lying by 
 all the while; and, secondly, I knew by the same reason, 
 thee limb would be so numb thee could neither stand upon 
 thee legs, nor hold a weapon in thee hand, for Just as long 
 a time; and beside, I feared, in case thee should discover 
 there was help nigh at hand, thee might cry out in thee 
 surprise, and so alarm thee sleeping captivators. 
 
 "And so, friend, I was in what thee might call a pucker, 
 not knowing what to do ; and so I lay hard by thee, with 
 Peter at the back of me, watching and revolving the matter 
 for that whole hour, as I told thee; when suddenly down 
 fell a stick into the fire, and the same blazing up brightly, 
 I saw two of the savages lying beside thee, their heads so 
 
NICK OF THE -WOODS. S29 
 
 close together, thee might have supposed they both grew 
 from the same pair of shoulders, and so nigh to me withal, 
 that, verily, I might have poked them with the muzzle of 
 my gun. 
 
 "Truly, friend," continued Nathan, looking both be- 
 wildered and animated, as he arrived at this period of his/ 
 ' story, "I can't tell thee how it then happened, — whether it| 
 was a sort of nervousness in my fingers' ends, or whether 
 it was all an accident ; but, truly, as it happened, my gun 
 went off in my hands, as it might be of its own accord, 
 and truly it blew the two evil creatures' brains out ! And 
 then, friend, thee sees, there was no stopping, there being 
 the third of thee captivators to look after ; and truly, as I 
 had done so much, I thought I might as well do all, — ^the; 
 killing of three men being but a litlte worse than the kill-\ 
 ing of two ; and, besides, the creature would have hurt thee, 
 as thee lay at his mercy. And so, friend, I did verily ! 
 spring upon him, sinner that I am, and strike him a blow ' 
 with my hatchet, which I had taken from my belt to be 
 ready; whereupon he fled, and I after him, being in great 
 fear lest, if he escaped, he should return upon thee and kill 
 thee, before I could get back to cut thee loose. And so, 
 friend, it happened that I killed him likewise ! — for which 
 I don't think thee can, in thee heart, blame me, seeing that 
 it was all over and over again on thee account, and no- 
 body else's. Truly, friend, it is quite amazing, thee ill 
 things thee hast brought me to !" 
 
 "Had there been twenty of the villains, and you had 
 killed them all, I should have held it the noblest and most 
 virtuous act you could have performed," said Eoland, too 
 fiercely agitated by his own contending passions to note 
 the strange medley of self-accusing and exculpatory ex- 
 pressions, the shame-faced, conscience-stricken looks, al- 
 ternating with gleams of military fire and self-compla- 
 cency, with which the man of peace recounted his bloody 
 exploit, or the adroit attempt with which he concluded it, 
 to shuffle the responsibility of the crime, if crime it were, 
 from his own to the young Virginian's shoulders. At an- 
 
230 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 other moment, the latter might have speculated with as 
 much surprise as approval on the extraordinary metamor- 
 phosis of Nathan, the man of amity and good will, into a 
 slayer of Indians, double dyed in gore; but at that junc- 
 ture, he had little inclination to dwell on any thing sav3 
 his own liberation and the hapless fate of his cousin. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 Yon gull, Malvolio, is turned heathen, a very renegado. 
 
 — Twelfth Night. 
 Mai. Dispute it like a man. 
 Mao. I shall do so; 
 
 But I must also feel it like a man; 
 
 I cannot but remember such things were, 
 
 That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, 
 
 And would not take their part? 
 
 — Macbeth. 
 
 By dint of chafing and bathing in the spring, still foul 
 and red with the blood of the Piankeshaws, the limbs of 
 the soldier soon recovered their strength, and he was able 
 to rise, to survey the scene of his late sufferings and libera- 
 tion, and again recur to the harassing subject of his kins- 
 woman's fate. Again he beset Bloody Nathan, — now un- 
 doubtedly worthy the name — with questions, which soon 
 recalled the disturbed looks which his deliverer had worn 
 when first assailed with interrogatories. He adjured him 
 to complete the good work he had so bravely begun, by 
 leaving himself to his fate, and making his way to the emi- 
 grants, or to the nearest inhabited station, whence assist- 
 ance might be procured to pursue the savages and their 
 captives, before it might be too late. 
 
 "Lead the party first to the battle-ground," he said; "I 
 am now as a child in strength, but I can cravi-l thither to 
 meet you; and once on a horse again, be assured no one 
 shall pursue better or faster than I." 
 
NICK OF THE -WOODS. 231 
 
 "If thee thinks of rescuing the maiden — " said Nathan. 
 
 "I will do so, or die," exclaimed Eoland, impetuously; 
 "and would to heaven I could die twice over, so I might 
 snatch her from the murdering monsters. Alas ! had you 
 but followed them, instead of these three curs, and done 
 that service to Edith you have done to me !" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, "thee talks as if ten men were as 
 easily knocked on the head as ten rabbits. But, hearken, 
 friend, and do thee have patience for a while ! There is a 
 thing in this matter that perplexes me; and, verily, there 
 is two or three. Why did thee desert the ruin? and who 
 was it led thee through the canes? Let me know what it 
 was that happened thee; for, of a truth, there is more in 
 this same matter than thee thinks." 
 
 Thus called upon, Roland acquainted Nathan with the 
 events that had succeeded his departure from the ruin — 
 the appearance of Ealph Stackpole, and the flight of the 
 party by the river, — circumstances that moved the wonder 
 and admiration of Nathan — and with all the other oc- 
 currences up to the moment of the defeat of the Ken- 
 tuckians, and the division of the plunder among the vic- 
 torious Indians. The mention of these spoils, the rifles, 
 bolts of cloth, beads, bells, and other gewgaw trinkets, pro- 
 duced an evident impression on Nathan's mind, which was 
 greatly increased when Eoland related the scene betwixt 
 Telle Doe and her reprobate father, and repeated those 
 expressions which seemed to show that the attack upon 
 the party was by no means accidental, but the result of 
 a previously formed design, of which she was not ignorant. 
 
 "Where Abel Doe is, there, thee may be sure, there is 
 knavery," said Nathan, demanding earnestly if Eoland 
 had seen no other white man in the party. 
 
 "I saw no other," he replied ; "but there was a tall man 
 in a blanket, wearing a red turban, who looked at me from 
 a distance; and I thought he was a half-breed, like Doe, — 
 for so, at first, I supposed the latter to be." 
 
 "Well, friend, and he seemed to command the party, did 
 he not ?" demanded Nathan, with interest. 
 
233 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "The leader," replied Eoland, "was a vile, grim old 
 rascal, that they called Kehauga, or Kenaxiga, or " 
 
 "Wenonga !" cried Nathan, with extraordinary vivacity, 
 his whole countenance, in fact, lighting np with the ani- 
 mation of intense interest — ^"an old man, tall and raw- 
 boned, a scar on his nose and cheek, and a halt in his gait, 
 his left middle finger short of a joint, and a buzzard's beak 
 and talons tied to his hair? It is Wenonga, the Black 
 Vulture ! Truly, little Peter, thee is but a dolt and a dog, 
 that thee told me nothing about it !" 
 
 The soldier remarked with some surprise the change in 
 Nathan's visage, and with still more his angry reproaches 
 of the trusty animal, the first he had heard him utter. 
 
 "And who then is the old Black Vulture," he asked, "that 
 he should drive from your mind even the thought of 
 my poor wretched Edith?" 
 
 "Thee is but a boy in the woods^ if thee never heard of 
 Wenonga, the Shawnee," replied Nathan, hastily — "a man 
 that has left the mark of his axe on many a ruined cabin 
 along the frontier, from the Bloody Eun of Bedford to 
 the Kenhawa and the Holston. He is the chief that boasts 
 he has no heart; and truly he has none, being a man that 
 has drunk the blood of women and children. Friend ! thee 
 kinswoman's scalp is already hanging at his girdle !" 
 
 This horrible announcement, uttered with a fierce ear- 
 nestness that proved the sincerity of the speaker, froze Ro- 
 land's blood in his veins, and he stood speechless and gasp- 
 ing; until Nathan, noting his agitation, and recovering in 
 part from his own ferment of spirits, exclaimed even more 
 hastily than before — "Truly, I have told thee what is 
 false — ^thee kinswoman is safe — a prisoner, but alive and 
 safe." 
 
 "You have told me she is dead — ^murdered by the foul 
 assassins," said Eoland; "and if it be so, it avails not to 
 deny it. If it be so, Nathan," he continued, with a look 
 of desperation, "I call heaven and earth to witness, that I 
 wiU pursue the race of the slayers with thrice the fury of 
 their own wsUce — never to pause, never to rest, never t9 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 233 
 
 be satisfied with vengeance, while an Indian lives with 
 blood to be shed, and I with strength to shed it." 
 
 "Thee speaks like a man !" said Nathan, grasping the 
 soldier's hand, and fairly crushing it in his grip — "that is 
 to say," he continued, suddenly letting go his hold, and 
 seeming somewhat abashed at the fervor of his sympathy, 
 "like a man, according to thee own sense of matters and 
 things. But do thee be content, thee poor maid is alive, 
 and like to be so; and that thee may be assured of it, I 
 will soon tell thee the thing that is on thy miad. Friend, 
 do thee answer me a question. Has thee any enemy among 
 the Injuns ? — that is to say, any reprobate white man like 
 this Abel Doe — ^who would do thee a wrong?" 
 
 The soldier stared with surprise, and replied in the 
 negative. 
 
 "Has thee no foe then at home, whom thee has theeself 
 wronged to that point that he would willingly league with 
 murdering Injuns to take thee life?" 
 
 "I have my enemies, doubtless, like all other men," said 
 Eoland, "but none so basely, so improbably malignant." 
 
 "Verily, then, thee makes me in a perplexity as before," 
 said Nathan; "for as truly as thee stands before me, so 
 truly did I see, that night when I left thee at the ruins, 
 and crawled through the Injun lines, a white man that sat 
 at a fire with Abel Doe, the father of the maid Telle, apart 
 from the rest, and counselled with him how best to sack 
 the cabin, without killing the two women. Truly, friend, 
 it was a marvel to myself, there being so many of the mur- 
 dering villains, that they did so little mischief ; but, truly, 
 it was because of the women. And, truly, there was foul 
 knavery between these two men; for I heard high words 
 and chaffering between them, as concerning a price or re- 
 ward which Abel Doe claimed of the other for the help he 
 was rendering him, in snapping thee up with thee kins- 
 woman. Truly, thee must not think I was mistaken; for 
 seeing the man's red shawl round his head gleaming in the 
 fire, and not knowing there was any one nigh him (for 
 JVbel D(?e Jajr flat upon the e^rtb) a wicked thought came 
 
234 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 into my heart; 'for, truly,' said I, 'this man is the chief, and 
 being alone, a man might strike him with a knife from 
 behind the tree he rests against, and being killed, his peo- 
 ple will fly in fear, without any more bloodshed ;' but creep- 
 ing nearer, I saw that he was but a white man in disguise ; 
 and so having listened awhile, to hear what I could, and 
 hearing what I have told thee, I crept away on my jour- 
 ney." 
 
 The effect of this unexpected revelation upon the young 
 Virginian was as if an adder had suddenly fastened upon 
 his bosom. It awoke a suspicion, involving indeed an im- 
 probability such as his better reason revolted at, but full 
 of pain and terror. But wild and incredible as it seemed, 
 it received a kind of confirmation from what Nathan added. 
 
 "The rifle-guns, the beads, and the cloth," he said, "that 
 were distributed after the battle — does thee think they were 
 plunder taken from the young Kentuckians they had van- 
 quished? Friend, these things were a price with which 
 the white man in the red shawl paid the assassin villains 
 for taking thee prisoner — thee and thee kinswoman. His 
 hirelings were vagabonds of all the neighboring tribes, 
 Shawnees, Wyandots, Delawares, and Piankeshaws, as I 
 noted well when I crept among them ; and old Wenonga is 
 the greatest vagabond of all, having long since been de- 
 graded by his tribe for bad luck, drunkenness, and other 
 follies natural to an Injun. My own idea is, that that 
 white man thirsted for thee blood, having given thee up to 
 the Piankeshaws, who, thee says, had lost one of their men 
 in the battle; for which thee would certainly have been 
 burned alive at their village: but what was his design in 
 captivating thee poor kinswoman that thee calls Edith, 
 truly I cannot divine, not knowing much of thee history." 
 
 "You shall hear it," said Eoland, with hoarse accents — 
 "at least so much of it as may enable you to confirm or dis- 
 prove your suspicions. There is indeed one man whom I 
 have always esteemed my enemy, the enemy also of Edith — 
 a knave capable of any extremity, yet never could I have 
 dreamed of a villainy so daring, so transcendant as this !" 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. ^35 
 
 So saying, Eoland, smothering his agitation as he could, 
 proceeded to acquaint his rude friend, now necessarily his 
 confident, with so much of his history as related to Brax- 
 ley, his late uncle's confidental agent and executor; — a 
 man whom Eoland's revelations to the gallant and inquisi- 
 tive Colonel Bruce, and still more, perhaps, his conversa- 
 tion with Edith in the wood, may have introduced suffi- 
 ciently to the reader's acquaintance. But of Braxley, 
 burning with a hatred he no longer chose to subdue, the 
 feeling greatly exasperated, also, by the suspicion Nathan's 
 hints had infused into his mind, he now spoke without re- 
 straint; and assuredly, if one might have Judged by the 
 bitterness of his invectives, the darkness of the colors with 
 which he traced the detested portrait, a baser wretch did 
 not exist on the whole earth. 
 
 Yet to a dispassionate and judicious hearer it might 
 have seemed that there was little in the evidence to bear 
 out an accusation so sweeping and heavy. Little, indeed, 
 had the soldier to charge against him save his instrumental- 
 ity in defeating hopes and expectations, which had been 
 too long indulged to be surrendered without anger and 
 pain. That this instrumentality, considering all the cir- 
 cumstances, was to be attributed to base and fraudulent 
 motives, it was natural to suspect ; but the proofs were far 
 from being satisfactory, as they rested chiefly on surmises 
 and assumptions. 
 
 It will be recollected, that on the death of Major For- 
 rester, Braxley had brought to light a testament of un- 
 doubted authenticity, but of ancient date, in which the 
 whole estate of the deceased was bequeathed to his own in- 
 fant child, — an unfortunate daughter, who, however, it 
 had never been doubted, had perished many years before 
 among the flames of the cabin of her foster-mother, but 
 who Braxley had made oath was, to the best of his knowl- 
 edge, still alive. His oath was founded, he averred, upon 
 the declaration of a man, the husband of the foster-mother, 
 a certain Atkinson, whom tory principles and practices, 
 and perhaps crimes and outrages — for such vas charged 
 
236 NICK OF THE :W00DS. 
 
 against him — had long since driven to seek refuge on the 
 frontier, but who had privily returned to the major's house, 
 a few weeks before the latter's death, and made confession 
 that the girl was still living; but, being recognized by an 
 old acquaintance, and dreading the vengeance of his coun- 
 trymen, he had immediately fled again to the frontier, 
 without acquainting any one with the place of the girl's 
 concealment. The story of Atkinson's return was con- 
 firmed by the man who had seen and recognized him, but 
 who knew nothing of the cause of his visit; and Braxley 
 declared he had already taken steps to ferret him out, and 
 had good hopes through his means of recovering the lost 
 heiress. 
 
 This story Eoland affected to believe a vile fabrication, 
 the result of a defep-laid, and, unfortunately, too success- 
 ful design on Braxley's part, to get possession, in the name 
 of an imaginary heiress, of the rich estates of his patron. 
 The authenticity of the will, which had been framed at a 
 period when the dissensions between Major Forrester and 
 his brothers were at the highest, Eoland did not doubt; it 
 was the non-existence of the individual in whose favor it 
 had been executed, a circumstance which he devoutly be- 
 lieved, that gave a fraudulent character to its production. 
 He even accused Braxley of having destroyed a second will 
 (by which the former was of course annulled, even sup- 
 posing the heiress were still living), a testament framed a 
 few months before his uncle's death; in which the latter 
 had bequeathed all his possessions to Edith, the child of 
 his adoption. 
 
 That such a second will had been framed, appeared from 
 the testator's own admissions ; at least, he had so informed 
 Edith, repeating the fact on several different occasions. 
 The fact, indeed, even Braxley did not deny; but he 
 averred, that the second instrument had been destroyed by 
 the deceased himself, as soon as the confession of Atkin- 
 son had acquainted him with the existence of his own un- 
 fortunate daughter. This explanation Roland rejected en- 
 tireljr, insisting that during the whole period of Atkinson's 
 
NICK OF THE 'WOODS. ^37 
 
 visit, and for some weeks before, his uncle had been in a 
 condition of mental imbecility and unconsciousness, as in- 
 capable of receiving and understanding the supposed con- 
 fession as he was of acting on it. The story was only an 
 additional device of Braxley to remove from himself the 
 suspicion of having destroyed the second will. 
 
 But whatever might have been thought of these imputa- 
 tions, it was evident that the young soldier had another 
 cause for his enmity, — one, indeed, that seemed more 
 operative on his mind and feelings, than even the loss of 
 fortune. The robber and plunderer, for these were the 
 softest epithets he had for his rival, had added to his 
 crimes the enormity of aspiring to the afEections of his 
 kinswoman, whom the absence of Roland, and the helpless 
 imbecility of her uncle, left exposed to his presumption and 
 his arts. Had the maiden smiled upon his suit, this in- 
 deed might have seemed a legitimate cause of hatred on 
 the part of Eoland; but Edith had repelled the lover with 
 firmness, perhaps even with contempt. The presumption 
 of such a rival Roland might perhaps have pardoned; but 
 he saw in the occurrences that followed, a bitter and malig- 
 nant revenge of the maiden's scorn, which none but the 
 basest of villains could have attempted. 
 
 It was this consideration which gave the sharpest edge 
 to the young man's hatred; and it was his belief that a 
 wretch, capable of such a revenge, was willing to add to it 
 any other measure of villainy, however daring and fiend- 
 ish, that had turned his thoughts upon Braxley, when Na- 
 than's words first woke the suspicion of a foeman's design 
 and agency in the attack on his party. How Braxley, a 
 white man and a Virginian, and, therefore, the foe of every 
 western tribe, could have so suddenly and easily thrown 
 himself into the arms of the savages, and brought them to 
 his own plans, it might have been difficult to say. But 
 anger is credulous, and fury stops not at impossibilities. 
 
 "It is Braxley himself!" he cried, at the close of his 
 narration; "how can it be doubted? He announced pub- 
 licly his intention to proceed to the frontier, to the Ken- 
 
338 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 hawa settlementSj in search of the fabulous heiress, and 
 was gone before our party had all assembled in Fincastle. 
 Thus, then, he veiled his designs, thus concealed a medi- 
 tated villainy. But his objects — it was not my miserable 
 life he sought — what would that avail him? — ^they aimed 
 at my cousin, — and she is now in his power !" 
 
 "Truly, then," said Nathan, who listened to the story 
 with great interest, and now commented on Eoland's agi- 
 tation with equal composure, "thee doth make a great fuss 
 for nothing; for truly, the maid will not be murdered — ■ 
 truly, thee has greatly relieved my mind. Thee should 
 not think the man, being a white man, will kill her."' 
 
 "Kill her!" cried Eoland, "would that twenty bullets 
 had pierced her heart, rather than she should have fallen 
 alive into the hands of Braxley ! Miserable wretch that I 
 am ; what can I do to save her ? We will rescue her, Na- 
 than ; we will seek assistance ; we will pursue the ravisher ; 
 — it is not yet too late. Speak to me — I shall go dis- 
 tracted ; what must we do ? — what can we do ?" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, "I fear me, we can do nothing. — ■ 
 Don't thee look so frantic, friend; I don't think thee has 
 good sense ! Thee talks of assistance — what is thee think- 
 ing about? Where would thee seek assistance? Has thee 
 forgot the Injun army is on the north side, and all the 
 fighting men of the stations gone to meet them? There 
 is nobody to help thee." 
 
 "But the emigrants, my friend? they are vet nigh at 
 hand." 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, "thee is mistaken. The news of 
 the Injuns, that brought friend Thomas the younger into 
 the woods, did greatly dismay them, as the young men re- 
 ported; and, truly, they did resolve to delay their journey 
 no longer, but start again before the break of day, that they 
 might the sooner reach the Falls, and be in safety with 
 their wives and little ones. There is no help for thee. 
 Thee and me is alone in the wilderness, and there is no 
 friend with us. Leave wringing thee hands, for it can do 
 thee no good," 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 239 
 
 "I am indeed friendless, and there is no hope," said Eo- 
 land, with the accents of despair ; "while we seek assistance, 
 and seek it vainly, Edith is lost — lost for ever! Would 
 that we had perished together ! Hapless Edith ! wretched 
 Edith ! Was ever wretch so miserable as I ?" 
 
 With such expressions the young man gave loose rein to 
 his feelings, and Nathan surveyed, first with surprise, and 
 then with a kind of gloomy indignation, but never, as it 
 seemed, with any thing like sympathy, the extravagance 
 of his grief. 
 
 "Thee is but a madman !" he exclaimed at last, and with 
 a tone of severity that arrested Eoland's attention; "does 
 thee curse thee fate, and the Providence that is above thee, 
 because the maid of thee heart is carried into captivity un- 
 harmed? Is thee wretched because thee eyes did not see 
 the Injun axe struck into her brain ? Friend, thee does not 
 know what such a sight is; but I do — ^yes, I have looked 
 upon such a thing, and I will tell thee what it is; for it 
 is good thee should know. 
 
 "Look, friend," he continued, grasping Eoland by the 
 arm, as if to command his attention, and surveying him 
 with a look both wild and mournful; "thee sees a man 
 before thee who was once as young and happy as thee — 
 yea, friend, happier, for I had many around me to love 
 me — the children of my body, the wife of my bosom, the 
 mother that gave me birth. Thee did talk of such things 
 to me in the wood — thee did mention them one and all — 
 wife, parent and child ! Such things had I, and men 
 spoke well of me. But thee sees what I am! There is 
 none of them remaining — 'none only but me; and thee 
 sees me what I am ! 
 
 "Ten years ago I was another man — a poor man, friend, 
 but one that was happy. I dwelt upon the frontiers of 
 Bedford — thee may not know the place; it is amiong the 
 mountains of Pennsylvania, and far away. There was 
 the house that I did build me ; and in it there was all that 
 I held dear, 'my gray old mother' — (that's the way thee 
 did call her, when thee spoke of her in the wood!) — 'the 
 
340 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 wife of my bosom/ and 'the child of my heart/ — ^the 
 children, friend, for there were five of them, sons and 
 daughters together, — ^little innocent babes that had done 
 no wrong ; and, truly, I loTed them well. 
 
 "Well, friend, the Injuns came around us; for being 
 bold, because of my faith that made me a man of peace, 
 and the friend of all men, I sat me down far on the border. 
 But the Shawnees came upon me, and came as men of war, 
 and their hands were red with the blood of my neighbors, 
 and they raised them against my little infants. Thee asked 
 me in the wood what I would do in such case, having arms 
 in my hand ? Friend, I had arms in my hand at that mo- 
 ment — a gun that had shot me the beasts of the mountains 
 for food, and a knife that had pierced the throats of bears 
 in their dens. I gave them to the Shawnee chief, that 
 he might know I was a friend. 
 
 "Friend ! if thee asks me now for my children I can tell 
 thee. With my own knife he struck down my eldest boy ! 
 with my own gun he slew the mother of my children. If 
 thee should live till thee is gray, thee will never see the 
 sight I saw that day ! When thee has children that Injuns 
 murder as thee stands by — a wife that clasps thee legs in 
 the writhings of death, her blood spouting up to thee 
 bosom, where she has slept — an old mother calling thee to 
 help her in her death struggle; — then, friend, then thee 
 may see — then thee may know — then thee may feel — then 
 thee may call theeself wretched, for thee will be so ! Here 
 was my little boy — does thee see? — here his two sisters — ■ 
 thee understands? — there. Thee may think I would have 
 snatched a weapon to help them then! Well, thee is 
 right ; but it was too late ! All murdered, friend ! — all — ■ 
 all — all cruelly murdered !" 
 
 It is impossible to convey an idea of the extraordinary 
 vehemence, the wild accents, the frantic looks, with which 
 Nathan ended the horrid story into which he had been be- 
 trayed by his repining companion. His struggles to sub- 
 due the passions that the dreadful recollections of a whole 
 family's butchery awoke in his bosom, only served to add 
 
NICK OP THE "WOODS. 841 
 
 double distortion to his changes of countenance, which, a 
 tetter index of the convulsion within than were his broken, 
 incoherent, half-inarticulate words, assumed at last an 
 appearance so wild, so hideous, so truly terrific, that Eo- 
 land was seized with horror, deeming himself confronted 
 with a raging maniac. He raised his hand to remove that of 
 Nathan, which still clutched his arm, and clutched it with 
 painful force; but while in the act, the fingers relaxed 
 of themselves, and Nathan dropped suddenly to the earth, 
 as if struck down by a thunder-bolt, his mouth foaming, 
 his eyes distorted, his hands clenched, his body convulsed — 
 in short, exhibiting every proof of an epileptic fit, brought 
 on by overpowering agitation of mind. 
 
 As he fell, little Peter sprang to his side, and throwing 
 his paws on his unconscious master's breast, stood over 
 him, as if to protect him, growling at Eoland, who, though 
 greatly shocked at the catastrophe, did not hesitate to offer 
 such relief as was in his power. Disregarding the menace 
 of the dog, which seemed at last to undersiand the purpose 
 was friendly, he raised Nathan's head upon his knee, 
 loosened the neckcloth that bound his throat, and spriakled 
 his face with water from the spring. 
 
 While thus engaged, the cap of the sufferer fell from 
 his head, and Roland saw that Nathan carried with him a 
 better cause for the affliction than could be referred to any 
 mere temporary emotion, however overwhelming to the 
 mind. A horrible scar disfigured the top of his head, 
 which seemed to have been, many years before, crushed by 
 the blows of a heavy weapon ; and it was equally manifest 
 that the savage scalping knife had done its work on the 
 mangled head. 
 
 The soldier had heard that injuries to the head often 
 resulted in insanity of some species or other; he could 
 now speculate on better grounds, and with better reason, 
 upon some of those singular points of character which 
 seemed to distinguish the houseless Nathan from the rest 
 of his fellowmen. 
 
242 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Be comforted : 
 Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge 
 To cure this deadly grief. 
 
 — Macbeth. 
 
 The connilsion was but momentary, and departed with 
 almost the same suddenness that marked its accession. 
 Nathan started half up, looked wildly around him, survey- 
 ing the bodies of the two Piankeshaws, and the visage of 
 the sympathizing soldier. Then snatching up and re- 
 placing his hat with one hand, and grasping Roland's with 
 the other, he exclaimed, as if wholly unconscious of what 
 had happened him : — 
 
 "Thee has heard it, and thee knows it, — thee knows 
 what the Shawnees have done to me — they have killed 
 them all, all that was of my blood ! Had they done so by 
 thee, friend," he demanded, with wild eagerness, "had they 
 done so by thee^ what would thee have done to them?" 
 
 "Declared eternal war upon them and their accursed 
 race !" cried Roland, greatly excited by the story ; "I would 
 have sworn undying vengeance, and I would have sought 
 it — ay, sought it without ceasing. Day and night, sum- 
 mer and winter, on the frontier and in their own lands 
 and villages I would have pursued the wretches, and pur- 
 sued them to the death." 
 
 "Thee is right!" cried Nathan, wringing the hand he 
 
 still held, and speaking with a grin of hideous approval ; 
 
 "by night and by day, in summer and winter, in the wood 
 and in the wigwam, thee would seek for their blood, and 
 thee would shed it; — ^thee would think of thee wife and 
 thee little babes, and thee heart would be as stone and fire 
 within thee — thee would kill, friend, thee would kill, thee 
 would kill !" And the monosyllable was breathed over and 
 over again with a ferocity of emphasis that showed how 
 deep and vindictive was the passion in the speaker's mind. 
 
 Then, with a transition of feeling as unexpected as it was 
 
NICK OF THE -WOODS. 243 
 
 abrupt, he added, still wringing Eoland's hand, as if he 
 had found in him a sympathizing friend, whose further 
 kindness he was resolved to deserve and to repay — "Thee 
 is right; I have thought about what thee has said — thee 
 shall have assistance. Thee is a brave man, and thee has 
 not mocked at me because of my faith. Thee enemies 
 shall be pursued, and the maid thee loves shall be re- 
 stored to thee arms." 
 
 "Alas !" said Eoland, almost fearing from the impetuos- 
 ity, as well as confidence with which Nathan now spoke, 
 that his wits were in a state of distraction, "where shall 
 we look for help, since there are none but ourselves in this 
 desert, of whom to ask it ?" 
 
 "From our two selves it must come, and from none 
 others," said Nathan, briskly. "We will follow the mur- 
 dering thieves that have robbed thee of thee treasure, and 
 we will recover the maid Edith from their hands." 
 
 "What! unaided? alone?" 
 
 "Alone, friend, with little Peter to be our guide, and 
 Providence our hope and our stay? Thee is a man of 
 courage, and thee heart will not fail thee, even if thee 
 should find theeself led into the heart of the Injun nation. 
 I have thought of this thing, friend, and I perceive there 
 is good hope we shall prevail, and prevail better than if 
 we had an hundred men to follow at our backs ; unless we 
 had them ready with us, to march this very day. Does 
 thee hear me, friend? The Shawnee fighting men are 
 now in Kentucky, assembled in a great army, scalping 
 and murdering as they come; their villages are left to be 
 guarded by women and children, and old men no longer 
 fit for war. Thee understands me ? If thee waits till thee 
 collects friends, thee will have to cut thee way with them 
 through fighting men returned to their villages before thee ; 
 if thee proceeds as thee is, thee has nothing to fear that 
 thee cannot guard against with thee own cunning — noth- 
 ing to oppose thee that thee cannot conquer with thee own 
 strength and courage." 
 
 "And how/' cried Eoland, too ardent of temper, too 
 
344 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 ready to snatch at any hope, to refuse his approbation to 
 the enterprise, though its difficulties immediately crowded 
 before his eyes, "how shall we follow a trail so long and 
 cold? where shall we find arms? where " 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, interrupting him, "thee speaks 
 without thought. For arms and ammunition, thee has 
 thee choice among the spoils of these dead villains, thee cap- 
 tivators. For the trail, thee need not think nothing of 
 that ; lost or found, thee may be certain it leads to the old 
 Vulture's town on the Miami; there thee will find thee 
 cousin, and thither I can lead thee." 
 
 "Let us go, then, in heaven's name," cried Eoland, "and 
 without delay ; every moment is precious." 
 
 "Thee speaks the truth; and if thee feels thee limbs 
 strong enough " 
 
 "They are nerved by hope; and while that remains, I 
 will neither faint nor falter. Edith rescued, and one blow 
 • — one good blow struck at the villain that wrongs her ! — 
 then let them fail me, if heaven wills it, and fail me for 
 
 ever 
 
 Few more words were required to confirm Roland's ap- 
 proval of the project so boldly, and, indeed, as it seemed, 
 so judiciously advised by his companion. To seek assist- 
 ance was, as Nathan had justly said, to cast away the op- 
 portunity, which the absence of the warriors from their 
 towns opened to his hopes, — an opportunity in which craft 
 and stratagem might well obtain the success not to be won 
 at a late;f period, and after the return of the marauders, 
 even by a band of armed men. 
 
 Turning to the corses that still lay on the couch of leaves 
 where they expired, Nathan began, with little ceremony, 
 and none of the compunction that might have been ex- 
 pected, to rob them of their knives, guns, and ammunition, 
 with which Eoland, selecting weapons to his liking, was 
 soon well armed. The pouches of the warriors, containing 
 strips of dried venison, and stores of parched corn, Nathan 
 appropriated in the same way, taking care, from the super- 
 abundance, to reward the services of little Peter, who re-i 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 345 
 
 ceived with modest gratitude, but despatched with ener- 
 getic haste, the meal which his appearance, as well as his 
 appetite, showed was not a blessing of every day occurrence. 
 
 These preparations concluded, Nathan signified his 
 readiness to conduct the young soldier on his way. But as 
 he stepped to the edge of the little glade, and turned to 
 take a last look of the dead Indians, the victims of his own 
 warlike hand, a change came over his appearance. The 
 bold and manly look which he had for a moment assumed, 
 was exchanged for an air of embarrassment, almost timid- 
 ity, such as marked his visage of old, at the station. He 
 hesitated, paused, looked at the bodies again, and then 
 at Eoland ; and finally muttered aloud, though with doubt- 
 ing accents: — 
 
 "Thee is a man of war, friend, — a man of war and a 
 soldier ! and thee fights Injuns even as the young men of 
 Kentucky fights them; and thee may think it but right 
 and proper, as they do, in such case made and provided, 
 to take the scalps off the heads of these same dead vaga- 
 bonds! Truly, friend, if thee is of that mind, truly, I 
 won't oppose thee !" 
 
 "Their scalps? I scalp them!" cried Eoland, with a 
 soldier's disgust; "I am no butcher; I leave them to the 
 bears and wolves, which the villains in their natures so 
 strongly resembled. I will kill Indians wherever I can; 
 but no scalping, Nathan, no scalping from me !" 
 
 "Truly, it is just as thee thinks proper," Nathan mum- 
 bled out; and without further remark, he strode into the 
 wood, following the path which the Piankeshaws had 
 travelled the preceding evening, until, with Eoland, he 
 reached the spot where had happened the catastrophe of 
 the keg, — a place but a few hundred paces distant from 
 the glade. Along the whole way he had betrayed symp- 
 toms of dissatisfaction and uneasiness, for which Eoland 
 could not account ; and now, having arrived at this spot, he 
 came to a pause, and revealed the source of his trouble. 
 
 "Do thee sit down here and rest thee weary limbs, 
 friend," he said. "Truly, I have left two Injun guns lying 
 
246 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 open to the day ; and truly, it doth afBict me to think so ; 
 for if other Injuns should chance upon this place, they 
 must needs find them, and perhaps use them in killing poor 
 white persons. Truly, I will hid them in a hollow tree, 
 and return to thee in a minute." 
 
 With these words he immediately retraced his path, 
 leaving Eoland to wonder and speculate at leisure over the 
 singular intermixture of humane and ferocious elements, 
 of which his character seemed compounded. But the 
 speculation was not long indulged ; in a few moments Fa- 
 than's footsteps were heard ringing along the arched path, 
 and he again made his appearance, hut looking a new man. 
 His gait was fierce and confident, his countenance bold 
 and expressive of satisfaction. "Things should never he 
 done by halves," he muttered, but more as if speaking to 
 his own thoughts than to his companion. 
 
 With this brief apology, he again led the way through 
 the forest; but not until Eoland had observed, or thought 
 he observed, a drop of blood fall from his tattered knife 
 sheath to the earth. But the suspicion that this little 
 incident, coupled with the change in Nathan's deportmerit, 
 awoke in Eoland's mind, he had no leisure to pursue ; Na- 
 than now striding forward at a pace which soon brought 
 his companion to a painful sense of his own enfeebled and 
 suffering condition. 
 
 "Thee must neither faint nor flag," said Nathan; "thee 
 enemies have the start of thee by a whole day; and they 
 have the horses also. Truly, it is my fear, that with these 
 horses and thee kinswoman, Abel Doe and the man Brax- 
 ley, thee foeman, may push on for the Injun town with 
 what speed they can, leaving their Injun thieves the foot- 
 men, to follow on as they may, or perhaps to strike through 
 the woods for the north side, to join the ramping villains 
 that are there burning and murdering. Thee must keep 
 up thee strength till nightfall, when thee shall have good 
 meat to eat, and a long sleep to refresh thee; and, truly, 
 on the morrow thee with be very well^ though a little 
 feverish." 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. S4? 
 
 With such encouragement, repeated time by time as 
 seemed to him needful, Nathan continued to lead through 
 wood and brake, with a vigor and freshness of step that 
 moved the wonder and envy of Eoland, who knew that, 
 like himself, Nathan had been without sleep for two 
 nights in succession; besides, having employed the inter- 
 vening days in the most laborious exertions. Such an 
 example of untiring energy and zeal, and the reflection 
 that they were displayed in his cause — in the cause of his 
 hapless Edith — supported Eoland's own flagging steps; 
 ^and he followed without murmuring, until the close of 
 the day found him again on the banks of the river that 
 had witnessed so many of his sufferings. He had been 
 long aware that Nathan had deserted the path of the 
 Piankeshaws; but not doubting his superior knowledge of 
 the woods had led him into a shorter path, he was both 
 surprised and concerned, when, striking the river at last, 
 he found himself in a place entirely unknown, and appar- 
 ently many miles below the scene of conflict of the previous 
 day. 
 
 "He that would follow upon the heels of Wenonga," said 
 Nathan, "must walk wide of his footsteps, for fear lest 
 he should suddenly tread on the old reptile's tail. Thee 
 don't know the craft of an old Injun that expects to be 
 followed, — as, truly, it is like the Black Vulture may ex- 
 pect it now. Do thee be content, friend; there is more 
 paths to Wenonga's town than them that Wenonga fol- 
 lows; and, truly, we may gain something by taking the 
 shortest." 
 
 Thus satisfying Eoland he had good reasons for choosing 
 his own path, Nathan led the way to the verge of the 
 river; where, leaving the broad buffalo-trace by which he 
 descended the banks, and diving through canes pnd rocks, 
 until he had left the ford to which the path led, a quarter- 
 mUe or more behind, he stopped at last under a grim cliff, 
 overgrown with trees and brambles, where a cove or hol- 
 low in the rock, of a peculiarly wild, solitary, and defensi- 
 ble character, invited him to take up quarters for the night. 
 
248 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 Nor did this seem the first time Wandering Kathan had 
 sought shelter in the place^ which possessed additional 
 advantage in a little spring that trickled from the rock, 
 and collected its limpid stores in a rocky basin hard by; 
 there were divers half-burned brands lying on its sandy 
 floor, and a bed of fern and cane-leaves, not yet dispersed 
 by the winds, that had evidently been once pressed by a 
 human form. 
 
 "Thee will never see a true man of the woods," said 
 Nathan, with much apparent self-approval, "build his 
 camp-fire on a road-side, like that unlucky foolish man, 
 Ealph Stackpole by name, that ferried thee down the river. 
 Truly, it was a marvel he did not drown thee all, as well 
 as the poor man Dodge! Here, friend, we can sleep in 
 peace ; and, truly, sleep will be good for thee, and me, and 
 little Peter." 
 
 With these words, Nathan set about collecting dried logs 
 and branches which former fioods had strown in great 
 abundance along the rocks; and dragging them into the 
 cove, he soon set them in a cheerful blaze. He then drew 
 forth his stores of provender, the corn and dried meat he 
 had taken from the PiankeshaVs pouches, — the latter of 
 which, after a preliminary sop or two in the spring, for 
 the double purpose of washing off the grains of gunpowder, 
 tobacco, and what not, the usual scrapings of an Indian's 
 pocket, and of restoring its long-vanished juices, — ^he 
 spitted on twigs of cane, and roasted with exceeding pa- 
 tience and solicitude at the fire. To these dainty viands 
 he added certain cakes and lumps of some nondescript sub- 
 stance, as Eoland supposed it, until assured by Nathan it 
 was good maple-sugar, and of his own making. 
 
 "Truly," said he, "it might have been better, had it 
 been better made. But, truly, friend, I am, as thee may 
 say, a man that lives in the woods, having neither cabin 
 nor wigwam, the Injuns having burned down the same, 
 so that it is tedious to rebuild them; and having neither 
 pots nor pans, the same having been all stolen, I did make 
 my sugar in the wooden troughs, boiling it down with hot 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. ^49 
 
 stones ; and, truly, friend, it doth serve the purpose of salt, 
 and is good against hunger in long journeys." 
 
 There was little in the dishes, set off by Nathan's cook- 
 ery, or his own feelings, to dispose the sick and weary sol- 
 dier to eat; and having swallowed but a few mouthfuls, 
 he threw himself upon the bed of leaves, hoping to find 
 that refreshment in slumber which neither food nor the 
 conversation of his companion could supply. His body 
 being as much worn and exhausted as his mind, the latter 
 was not doomed to be long tossed by grief and fear; and 
 before the last hues of sunset had faded in the west, ;. 
 slumber had swept from his bosom the consciousness of his 
 own sufferings, with even the memory of his Edith. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Nathan had gathered more wood to 
 supply the fire during the night, and added a new stock 
 of cane-leaves for his own bed; having made which to his 
 liking, disposed his arms where they could be seized at a 
 moment's warning, and, above all, accommodated little 
 Peter with a couch at his own feet, he also threw himself 
 at length, and was soon sound asleep. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 The day shall not be up so soon as I, 
 To try the lair adventure. 
 
 — King John. 
 But seeing, flashing forward, like the day 
 
 Over the hills, a fire enough to blind 
 Those who dislike to look upon a fray. 
 He stumbled on. 
 
 — Don Juan. 
 
 The morning-star, peeping into the hollow den of the 
 wanderers, was yet bright on the horizon, when Eoland 
 was roused from his slumbers by Nathan, who had already 
 risen and prepared a hasty meal, resembling in all respects 
 that of the preceding evening. To this the soldier did 
 better justice than to the other ; for, although feeling sore 
 
250 NICK OP THE WOODS, 
 
 and stiff in every limb, he experienced none of the feverish 
 confsequences Nathan had predicted, from his wounds; 
 and his mind, invigorated by so many hours of rest, was 
 more tranquil and cheerful. The confidence Nathan 
 seemed to feel in the reasonableness and practicability of 
 their enterprise, however wild and daring it might have 
 seemed to others, was his own best assurance of its success ; 
 and hope thus enkindled, growing with his growing 
 strength, it required no laborious effort to summon the 
 spirits necessary to sustain him during the coming trials. 
 
 This change for the better was not unnoticed by Nathan, 
 who exhorted him to eat freely, as a necessary prelude to 
 the labors of the day ; and the rude meal being quickly and 
 satisfactorily despatched, and little Peter receiving his due 
 share, the companions, without further delay, seized their 
 arms and re-commenced their journey. Crossing the river 
 at the buffalo-ford above, and exchanging the road to which 
 it led for wilder and lonelier paths traced by smaller ani- 
 mals, they made their way through the forest, travelling 
 with considerable speed, which was increased as the warmth 
 of exercise gradually restored their native suppleness to 
 the soldier's limbs. 
 
 And now it was that, as the opening of a glorious dawn, 
 flinging sunshine and life over the whole wilderness, in- 
 fused still brighter hopes into Eoland's spirit, he began to 
 divide his thoughts between his kinswoman and his guide, 
 bestowing more upon the latter than he had previously 
 found time or inclination to do. His strange appearance, 
 his stranger character, his sudden metamorphosis from a 
 timid, and somewhat over-conscientious professor of the 
 doctrines of peace and good-will, into a highly energetic 
 and unremorseful, not to say, valiant, man of war, were 
 all subjects to provoke the soldier's curiosity; which was 
 still further increased when he pondered over the dismal 
 story Nathan had so imperfectly told him on the past day. 
 
 Of those dreadful calamities which, in Nathan's own 
 language, "had made him what he was," a houseless wan- 
 derer of the wilderness, the Virginian would have gladly 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. ®51 
 
 known more ; but his first allusion to the subject produced 
 such evident disorder in Nathan's mind, as if the recollec- 
 tion were too harrowing to be borne, that the young man 
 immediately repressed his inquiries, and diverted his 
 guide's thoughts into another channel. 
 
 His imagination supplied the imperfect links in the 
 story ; he could well believe that the same hands which had 
 shed the blood of every member of the poor borderer's fam- 
 ily, might have struck the hatchet into the head of the 
 resisting husband and father; and that the effects of that 
 blow, with the desolation of heart and fortune which the 
 heavier ones, struck at the same time, had entailed, might 
 have driven him to the woods, an idle, and perhaps aim- 
 less wanderer. 
 
 How far these causes might have operated in leading Na- 
 than into those late acts of blood which were at such vari- 
 ance with his faith and professions, it remained also for 
 Eoland to imagine; and, in truth, he imagined they had 
 operated deeply and far; though nothing in Nathan's own 
 admissions could be found to sanction any belief, save that 
 they were the results partly of accident, and partly of 
 sudden and irresistible impulse. 
 
 At all events, it was plain that his warlike feats, however 
 they might at first have shocked his sense of propriety, 
 now sat but lightly on his conscience; and, indeed, since 
 his confession at the Piankeshaw camp, he ceased even to 
 talk of them, perhaps resting upon that as an all-sufficient 
 explanation and apology. It is certain, from that moment 
 he bore himself more freely and boldly, entered no protest 
 whatever against being called on to do his share of such 
 fighting as might occur — a stipulation made with such 
 anxious forethought, when he first consented to accompany 
 the lost travellers — ^nor betrayed any tenderness of invec- 
 tive against the Indians, whom, having first spoke of 
 them only as "evil-minded poor Shawnee creatures," he 
 now designated, conformably to established usage among 
 his neighbors of the stations, as "thieves and dogs," 
 "bloody villains, and rapscallions;" all which expressions 
 
252 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 he bestowed with as much ease and emphasis as if he had 
 been accustomed to use them all his life. 
 
 With this singular friend and companion, Roland pur- 
 sued his way through the wilderness, committing life, and 
 the hopes that were dearer than life, to his sole guidance 
 and protection; nor did any thing happen to shake his 
 faith in either the zeal or ability of Nathan to conduct to 
 a prosperous issue the cause he had so freely and disin- 
 terestedly espoused. 
 
 As they thridded the lonely forest-paths together, Na- 
 than explained at length the circumstances upon which 
 he founded his hopes of success in their project; and in 
 doing so, convinced the soldier, not only that his sagacity 
 was equal to the enterprise, but that his acquaintance with 
 the wilderness was by no means confined to the region south 
 of the Ohio; the northern countries, then wholly in the 
 possession of the Indian tribes, appearing to be just as 
 well known to him, the Miami country in particular, in 
 which lay the village of the Black Vulture. How this 
 knowledge had been obtained was not so evident; for al- 
 though he averred he hunted the deer or trapped the 
 beaver on either side the river, as appeared to him most 
 agreeable, it was hardly to be supposed he could carry on 
 such operations in the heart of the Indian nation. But it 
 was enough for Eoland that the knowledge so essential to 
 his own present plans was really possessed by his conductor, 
 and he cared not to question how it had been arrived at; 
 it was an augury of success, of which he felt the full 
 influence. 
 
 The evening of that day found him upon the banks of 
 the Kentucky, the wild and beautiful river from which 
 the wilderness around derived its name; and the next 
 morning, crossing it on a raft of logs speedily constructed 
 by Nathan, he trod upon the soil of the north side, famous 
 even then for its beauty and for the deeds of bloodshed, 
 almost daily enacted among its scattered settlements, and 
 destined, unhappily, to be rendered still more famous for a 
 tragedy which that very day witnessed, far o# among th^ 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 253 
 
 barren ridges of the Licking, where sixty of the district's 
 best and bravest sons fell the victims less of Indian sub- 
 tlety than of their own unparalleled rashness. But of that 
 bloody fi'^ld the travellers were to hear thereafter ; the vul- 
 tures were winging their flight towards the fatal scene; 
 but they alone could snuff, in that silent desert, the scent 
 of the battle that vexed it. 
 
 Sleeping that night in the woods, the next day, being 
 the fourth since they left the Piankeshaw camp, beheld 
 the travellers upon the banks of the Ohio; which, seen 
 for the first time in the glory of summer, its crystal waters 
 wheeling placidly along amid hills and forests, ever re- 
 flected in the bright mirror below, and with the air of 
 virgin solitude which, through so many leagues of its 
 course, it still presents, never fails to fill the beholder's 
 mind with an enchanting sense of its loveliness. 
 
 Here a raft was again constructed; and the adventurers 
 pushing boldly across, were soon upon the opposite shore. 
 This feat accomplished, Nathan took the precaution to 
 launch their frail float adrift in the current, that no tell- 
 tale memorial of a white man's visit should remain to be 
 read by returning warriors. The next moment ascending 
 the bank of the river, he plunged with his companion into 
 a maze of brake and forest, neither of them then dreaming 
 that upon the very spot where they toiled through the 
 tangled labyrinths, a few years should behold the magic 
 spectacle of a fair city, the Queen of the West, uprisen 
 with the suddenness, and almost the splendor, of the Fata- 
 Morgana, though, happily, doomed to no such evanescent 
 existence. Then handling their arms, like men who felt 
 they were in a foeman's country, and knew that every fur- 
 ther step was to be taken in peril, they resumed their jour- 
 ney, travelling with such speed and vigor (for Eoland's 
 strength had returned apace), that at the close of the 
 day, they were, according to Nathan's account, scarce 
 twenty miles distant from the Black Vulture's village, 
 which they might easily reach the following day. On the 
 follpvin^ daj^j accordingly^ they resumed ^m march. 
 
354 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 avoiding all paths, and stealing through the most unfre- 
 quented depths of the woods, proceeding with a caution 
 which was every moment becoming more obviously neces- 
 sary to the success of their enterprise. 
 
 Up to this period their journey had presented nothing of 
 interest, being a mere succession of toil, privation, and oc- 
 casional suffering, naturally enough to be expected in such 
 an undertaking; but it was now about to be varied by an 
 adventure of no little interest in itself, and, in its conse- 
 quences, destined to exercise a powerful influence on the 
 prospects of the travellers. 
 
 Laying their plans so as to reach the Indian village only 
 about nightfall, and travelling but slowly, and with great 
 circumspection, they had not at midday accomplished much 
 more than half the distance ; when they came to a halt in 
 a little dell, extremely wild and sequestered, where Nathan 
 proposed to rest a few hours and recruit their strength with 
 a warm dinner, — a luxury they had not enjoyed for the 
 last two days, during which they had subsisted upon the 
 corn and dried meat from the Indian wallets. Accident 
 had a few moments before provided them materials for a 
 more palatable meal. They had stumbled upon a deer 
 that had just fallen under the attack of a catamount; 
 which, easily driven from its yet warm and palpitating 
 quarry, surrendered the feast to its unwelcome visitors. 
 
 An inspection of the carcass showed that the animal had 
 been first struck by the bullet of some wandering Indian 
 hunter, a discovery that somewhat concerned Nathan, 
 until, after a more careful examination of- the wound, 
 which seemed neither severe nor mortal, he was convinced 
 the poor beast had run many long miles, until, in fact, 
 wholly exhausted before the panther had finished the work 
 of the huntsman. This circumstance removing his un- 
 easiness, he helped himself to the choicest portion of the 
 animal, amputated a hind leg without stopping to flay it, 
 and, clapping this upon his shoulder in a very businesslike 
 way, left the remainder of the carcass to be despatched by 
 the wildcat at ber leisure. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 255 
 
 The little dell, in which Nathan proposed to cook and 
 enjoy his savory treasure, at ease and in safety, was en- 
 closed by hills ; of which the one by which they descended 
 into it fell down in a rolling slope densely covered with 
 trees; while the other, rocky, barren, and almost naked, 
 rose precipitously up, a grim picture of solitude and deso- 
 lation. A scanty brook, oozing along through the swampy 
 bottom of the hollow, and supplied by a spring near its 
 head, at which the two friends halted, to prepare their 
 meal, ran meandering away, among alders and other 
 swampy plants, to find exit into a larger vale that opened 
 below, though hidden from the travellers by the winding 
 of the rocky ridge before them. 
 
 In this lonely den, Nathan and Koland began straight- 
 way to disencumber themselves of arms and provisions, 
 seeming well satisfied with its convenience. But not sq 
 little Peter; who, having faithfully accompanied them so 
 far, now following humbly at his master's heels, and now, 
 in periods of alarm or doubt, taking post in front, the 
 leader of the party, uplifted his nose, and feU to snuffing 
 about him in a way that soon attracted his master's notice. 
 Smelling first around the spring and then giving a look 
 both up and down the glen, as if to satisfy himself there 
 was nothing wrong in either of those quarters, he finally 
 began to ascend the rocky ridge, snuffing as he went, and 
 ever and anon looking back to his master, and soliciting 
 his attention by a wag of his tail. 
 
 "Truly, thee did once wag to me in vain !" said Nathan, 
 snatching up his gun, and looking volumes of sagacious 
 response at his brute ally, 'Tjut thee won't catch me nap- 
 ping again ; though, truly, what thee can smell here, where 
 is neither track of man nor print of beast, truly, Peter, I 
 have no idea !" 
 
 With these words, he crept up the hiU himself, follow- 
 ing in little Peter's wake; and Eoland, who also grasped 
 his rifle, as Nathan had done, though without perhaps at- 
 taching the same importance to Peter's note of warning, 
 thought fit to imitate his example. 
 
256 NICK or THE "WOODS. 
 
 In this manner cautiously crawling up, the two friends 
 reached the crest of the hill; and peering over a precipice 
 of fifty or more feet sheer descent, with which it suddenly 
 dipped into a wild but beautiful little valley below, be- 
 held a scene that, besides startling them somewhat out of 
 their tranquillity, caused both to bless their good fortune 
 they had not neglected the warning of their brute con- 
 federate. 
 
 The vale below, like that they had left, opened into a 
 wider bottom land, the bed of a creek, which they could 
 see shining among the trees that overshadowed the rich 
 alluvion; and into this poured a rivulet that chattered along 
 through the glen, at their feet, in which it had its sources. 
 The hill on the other side of the little vale, which was of 
 an oval figure, narrowest at its outlet, was rough and 
 precipitous, like that on which they lay ; but the two unit- 
 ing above, bounded the head of the vale with a long, bushy, 
 sweeping slope — a fragment of a natural amphitheatre — 
 which was evidently of easy ascent, though abrupt and 
 steep. The valley thus circumscribed, though broken, 
 and here and there deeply furrowed by the watercourse, 
 was nearly destitute of trees, except at its head, where a 
 few young beeches flung their silver boughs and rich green 
 foliage abroad over the grassy knolls, and patches of 
 papaws drooped their loose leaves and swelling fruit over 
 the stream. 
 
 It was in this part of the valley, at the distance of three 
 or four hundred paces from them, that the eyes of the two 
 adventurers, directed by the sound of voices, which they had 
 heard the instant they reached the crest of the ridge, fell, 
 first, upon the smoke of a huge fire curling merrily up into 
 the air, and then upon the bodies of no less than five In- 
 dian warriors, all zealously and uproariously engaged in 
 an amusement highly characteristic of their race. There 
 was among them a white man, an unfortunate prisoner, as 
 was seen at a glance, whom they had bound by the legs to 
 a tree ; around which the savages danced and leaped, yell- 
 ing now with rage, now in merriment, but all the while 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. B57 
 
 belaboring the poor wretch with rods and switches, which, 
 at every turn round the tree, they laid about his head and 
 shoulders with uncommon energy and zest. 
 
 This was a species of diversion better relished, as it 
 seemed, by the captors than their captive ; who, infuriated 
 by his pangs, and perhaps desiring, in the desperation of 
 the moment, to provoke them to end his sufferings with the 
 hatchet, retaliated with his fists, which were at liberty, 
 striking fiercely at every opportunity, and once with such 
 effect as to tumble one of the tormentors to the earth, — a 
 catastrophe, however, that the others rewarded with roars 
 of approving laughter, though without for a moment in- 
 termitting their own cruelties. 
 
 This spectacle, it may be well supposed, produced a 
 strong effect upon the minds of the travellers, who, not 
 without alarm on their own account at the discovery of 
 such dangerous neighbors, could not view without emotion 
 a fellow white man and countryman helpless in their hands, 
 and enduring tortures perhaps preliminary to the more 
 dreadful one of the stake. They looked one another in the 
 face; the Virginian's eyes sparkled with a meaning which 
 Nathan could not misunderstand; and clutching his rifle 
 tighter in his hands, and eyeing the young man with an 
 ominous stare, he muttered, — "Speak, friend, — thee is a 
 man and a soldier — what does thee think, in the case made 
 and provided ?" 
 
 "We are but two men, and they five," replied Eoland, 
 firmly, though in the lowest voice; and then repeated, in 
 the same energetic whisper, — "we are but two men, Na- 
 than ; but there is no kinswoman now to unman me !" 
 
 Nathan took another peep at the savages, before speak- 
 ing. Then looking upon the young man with an uneasy 
 countenance, he said, — "We are but two men, as thee says, 
 and they five ; and, truly, to do what thee thinks of, in open 
 day, is a thing not to be thought on by men that have soft 
 places in their bosoms. Nevertheless, I think, according 
 to thee own opinion, we being strong men that have the 
 wind of the villains, and a good cause to help us, truly, we 
 
258 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 might snap the poor man they have captivated out of their 
 hands, with considerable much of damage to them besides, 
 the murdering rapscallions ! But, friend," he added, see- 
 ing Eoland give way to his eagerness, — "thee spoke of the 
 fair maid, thee cousin — if thee fights this battle, truly, 
 thee may never see her more." 
 
 "If I fall," said Eoland, — but he was interrupted by 
 Nathan : — 
 
 "It fs not that thee is to think of. Truly, friend, thee 
 may fight these savages, and thee may vanquish them ; but 
 unless thee believes in thee conscience thee can kill them 
 every one — truly, friend, thee can hardly expect it?" 
 
 "And why should we? It is enough if we can rescue 
 the prisoner." 
 
 "Friend, thee is mistaken. If thee attacks the villains, 
 and but one of them escapes alive to the village, sounding 
 the alarm, thee will never enter the same in search of the 
 maid, thee kinswoman. Thee sees the case; thee must 
 choose between the captive there and thee cousin !" 
 
 This was a view of the case, and, as Eoland felt, a Just 
 one, well calculated to stagger his resolutions, if not en- 
 tirely to abate his sympathy for the unknown sufferer. 
 As his hopes of success in the enterprise for which he had 
 already dared and endured so much, evidently depended 
 upon his ability to approach the Indian village without 
 awakening suspicion, it was undeniable that an attack upon 
 the party in the vale, unless resulting in its complete de- 
 struction, must cause to be borne to the Black Vulture's 
 town, and on the wings of the wind, the alarm of white 
 men in the woods; and thus not only cut him ofE from 
 it, but actually bring upon himself all the fighting men 
 who might be remaining in the village. To attack the 
 party, with the expectation of wholly destroying it, was, 
 or seemed to be, an absurdity. But to desert a wretched 
 prisoner whom he had it perhaps in his power to rescue 
 from captivity, and from a fate still more dreadful, was a 
 dereliction of duty, of honor, of common humanity, of 
 Trhich he could scarce persuade himself to be guilty. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. S50 
 
 He cast his eyes upon the glen, and once more looked 
 upon the captive, who had sunk to the ground as if from' 
 exhaustion, and whom the savages, after beating him awhile 
 longer, as if to force him again on his feet, that they might 
 enjoy their amusement awhile longer, now fell to securing 
 with thongs. As Eoland looked, he remembered his own 
 night of captivity, and hesitated no longer. Turning to 
 Nathan, who had been earnestly reading the struggles of 
 his mind, as revealed in his face, he said, and with un- 
 faltering resolution, — "You say we can rescue that man — 
 I was a prisoner, like him, bound too, — a helpless, hope- 
 less captive, — ^three Indians to guard me, and but one 
 friend to look upon me; yet did not that friend abandon 
 me to my fate. God wUl protect my poor cousin, we must 
 rescue him !" 
 
 "Thee is a man, every inch of thee !" said Nathan, with 
 a look of uncommon satisfaction and fire ; "thee shall have 
 thee will, in the matter of these murdering Shawnee dogs ; 
 and it may be, it will be none the worse for thee kins- 
 woman." 
 
 With that, he motioned Eoland to creep with him beyond 
 the crest of the hill, where they straightway held a hur- 
 ried consultation of war to determine upon the plan of 
 proceedings, in the prosecution of an adventure so wild 
 and perilous. 
 
 The soldier, burning with fierce ardor, proposed that 
 they should take post respectively, the one at the head, the 
 other at the outlet of the vale, and creeping as nigh the 
 enemy as they could, deliver their fire, and then rushing on, 
 before the savages could recover from their surprise, do 
 their best to finish the affair with their hatchets, a plan 
 which, as he just said, offered the only prospect of cutting 
 off the retreat of those who might survive the fire. 
 
 But Nathan had already schemed the matter otherwise; 
 he had remarked the impossibility of approaching the 
 enemy from below, the valley offering no concealment 
 which would make an advance in that quarter practicable ; 
 whereas the bushes on the slope, where the two walls of 
 
260 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the glen united, afforded the most inviting opportunity to 
 creep on the foe without fear of detection. 
 
 "Truly," said he, "we will get us as nigh the assassin 
 thieves as we can ; and, truly, it may be our luck, each of us, 
 to get a brace of them in range together, and so bang them 
 beautiful !" — an idea that was manifestly highly agreeable 
 to his imagination, from which he seemed to have utterly 
 banished all those disgusts and painsgivings on the subject 
 of fighting, which had formerly afflicted it; "or, perhaps, 
 if we can do nothing better," he continued, "we may catch 
 the vagabonds wandering from their guns, to pick up sticks 
 for their fire; in which ease, friend, truly, it may be our 
 luck to help them to a second volley out of their own pieces ; 
 or, if the worst must come, truly, then, I do know of a 
 device that may help the villains into our hands, even to 
 their own undoing !" 
 
 With these words, having first examined his own and 
 Eoland's arms to see that all were in proper battle condi- 
 tion, and then directed little Peter to ensconce in a bush, 
 wherein little Peter straightway bestowed himself. Bloody 
 Nathan, vpith an alacrity of motion and ardor of look that 
 indicated any thing rather than distaste to the murderous 
 work in hand, led the way along the ridge, until he had 
 reached the place where it dipped down to the valley, cov- 
 ered with the bushes, through which he expected to ad- 
 vance to a desirable position undiscovered. 
 
 But a better auxiliary even than the bushes was soon dis- 
 covered by the two friends. A deep gully, washed in the 
 side of the hill by the rains, was here found running ob- 
 liquely from its top to the bottom, affording a covered way 
 by which, as they saw, at a glance, they could approach 
 within twenty or thirty yards of the foe entirely unseen; 
 and, to add to its advantages, it was the bed of a little 
 watercourse, whose murmurs, as it leaped from rock to 
 rock, assured them they could as certainly approach un- 
 heard. 
 
 "Truly," muttered Nathan, with a grim chuckle, as he 
 looked, first at the friendly ravine, and then at the savages 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. S61 
 
 below, "the Philistine rascals is in our hands, and we will 
 smite them hip and thigh !" 
 
 With thi§ inspiring assurance, he crept into the ravine; 
 and Eoland following, they were soon in possession of a 
 post commanding, not only the spot occupied by the 
 enemy, but the whole valley. 
 
 Peeping through the fringe of shrubs that rose, a ver- 
 dant parapet, on the brink of the gully, they looked down 
 upon the savage party, now less than forty paces from the 
 muzzles of their guns, and wholly unaware of the fate pre- 
 paring for them. The scene of diversion and torment was 
 over; the prisoner, a man of powerful frame but squalid 
 appearance, whose hat, — a thing of shreds and patches, — 
 adorned the shorn pate of one of the Indians, while his 
 coat, equally rusty and tattered, hung from the shoulders 
 of a second, lay bound under a tree, but so nigh that they 
 could mark the laborious heavings of his chest. Two of 
 the Indians sat near him on the grass, keeping watch, 
 their hatchets in their hands, their guns resting within 
 reach against the trunk of a tree, overthrown by some 
 hurricane of former years, and now mouldering away. A 
 third was engaged with his tomahawk, lopping away the 
 few dry boughs that remained on the trunk. Squatting 
 at the fire, which the third was thus laboring to replenish 
 with fuel, were the two remaining savages; who, holding 
 their rifles in their own hands, divided their attention be- 
 twixt a shoulder of venison roasting on a stick in the fire, 
 and the captive, whom they seemed to regard as destined to 
 be sooner or later disposed of in a similar manner. 
 
 The position of the parties precluded the hope Nathan 
 had ventured to entertain of getting them in a cluster, and 
 so doing double execution with each bullet; but the dis- 
 appointment neither chilled his ardor, nor embarrassed his 
 plans. His scheme of attack had been framed to embrace 
 all contingencies; and he wasted no further time in de- 
 liberation. A few whispered words conveyed his last in- 
 structions to the soldier ; who, reflecting that he was fight- 
 ing in the cause of humanity, remembering his own heavy 
 
263 NICK OF THE W00D8. 
 
 wrongs, and marking the fiery eagerness that flamed from 
 Nathan's visage, banished from his mind whatever disin- 
 clination he might have felt at beginning the fray in a 
 mode so seemingly treacherous and ignoble. He laid his 
 axe on the brink of the gully at his side, together with his 
 foraging cap; and then, thrusting his rifle through the 
 bushes, took aim at one of the savages at the fire, Nathan 
 directing his piece against the other. Both of them pre- 
 sented the fairest marks, as they sat wholly unconscious of 
 their danger, enjoying in imagination the tortures yet to 
 be inflicted on the prisoner. But a noise in the gully, — 
 the falling of a stone loosened by the soldier's foot, or a 
 louder than usual splash of water, — suddenly roused them 
 from their dreams; they started up, and turned their eyes 
 towards the hill. — "Now, friend !" whispered Nathan ; "if 
 thee misses, thee loses thee maiden, and thee life into the 
 bargain. Is thee ready ?" 
 "Eeady," was the reply. 
 
 "Right, then, through the dog's brain, — fire!" 
 The crash of the pieces, and the fall of the two victims, 
 both marked by a fatal aim, and both pierced through the 
 brain, were the first announcement of peril to their com- 
 panions ; who, springing up with yells of fear and astonish- 
 ment, and snatching at their arms, looked wildly around 
 them for the unseen foe. The prisoner also, astounded out 
 of his despair, raised his head from the grass, and glared 
 around. The wreaths of smoke curling over the bushes 
 on the hillside betrayed the lurking-place of the assailants, 
 and savages and prisoner turning together, they all beheld 
 at once the spectacle of two human heads, — or, to speak 
 more correctly, two human caps, for the heads were far 
 below them, — rising in the smoke, and peering over the 
 bushes, as if to mark the result of the volley. Loud, 
 furious, and exulting were the screams of the Indians, as, 
 with the speed of thought, seduced by a stratagem often 
 practised among the wild heroes of the border, they raised 
 and discharged their pieces against the imaginary foes so 
 incautiously exposed to their vengeance. The caps fell. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 263 
 
 and with them the rifles that had been employed to raise 
 them; and the voice of Nathan thundered through the 
 glen, as he grasped his tomahawk and sprang from the 
 ditch, — "Now, friend! up with thee axe, and do thee 
 duty !" 
 
 With these words the two assailants at once leaped into 
 view, and with a bold hurrah, and bolder hearts, rushed 
 towards the fire, where lay the undischarged rifles of their 
 first victims. The savages yelled also in reply, and two 
 of them bounded forward to dispute the prize. The third, 
 staggered into momentary inaction by the suddenness and 
 amazement of the attack, rushed forward but a step; but 
 a whoop of exultation was on his lips, as he raised the 
 rifle which he had not yet discharged, full against the 
 breast of Bloody Nathan. 
 
 But his triumph was short-lived ; the blow, so fatal as it 
 must have proved to the life of Nathan, was averted by an 
 unexpected incident. The prisoner, near whom he stood, 
 putting all his vigor into one tremendous effort, burst his 
 bonds, and, with a yell ten times louder and fiercer than 
 had been yet uttered, added himself to the combatants. 
 With a furious cry of encouragement to his rescuers, — 
 "Hurrah for Kentucky ! — give it to 'em good !" he threw 
 himself upon the savage, beat the gun from his hands, and 
 grasping him in his brawny arms, hurled him to the earth, 
 where, rolling over and over in mortal struggle, growling 
 and whooping, and rending one another like wild beasts, 
 the two, still locked in furious embrace suddenly tumbled 
 down the banks of the brook, there high and steep, and 
 were immediately lost to sight. 
 
 Before this catastrophe occurred, the other Indians and 
 the assailants met at the fire; and each singling out his 
 opponent, and thinking no more of the rifles, they met as 
 men whose only business was to kill or to die. With his axe 
 flourished over his head, Nathan rushed against the tallest 
 and foremost enemy, who, as he advanced, swung his 
 tomahawk, in the act of throwing it. Their weapons 
 parted from their hands at the same moment, and with 
 
264 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 perhaps equal accuracy of aim; but, meeting with a crash 
 in the air, they fell together to the earth, doing no harm 
 to either. The Indian stooped to recover his weapon, but 
 it was too late; the hand of Nathan was already upon his 
 shoulder; a single effort of his vast strength sufficed to 
 stretch the savage at his feet; and holding him down with 
 knee and hand, Nathan snatched up the nearest axe. "If 
 the life of thee tribe was in thee bosom," he cried, with a 
 look of unrelenting fury, of hatred, deep and ineffaceable, 
 "thee should die the dog's death, as thee does!" and with 
 a blow furiously struck, and thrice repeated, he despatched 
 the struggling savage as he lay. 
 
 He rose, brandishing the bloody hatchet, and looked for 
 his companion. He found him upon the earth, lying upon 
 the breast of his antagonist, whom it had been his good 
 fortune to overmaster. Both had thrown their hatchets, 
 and both without effect, Eoland because skill was wanting, 
 and the Shawnee because, in the act of throwing, he had 
 stumbled over the body of one of his comrades, so as to 
 disorder his aim, and even to deprive him of his footing. 
 Before he could recover himself, Eoland imitated Nathan's 
 example, and threw himself upon the unlucky Indian, — a 
 youth, as it appeared, whose strength, perhaps at no mo- 
 ment equal to his own, had been reduced by recent wounds, 
 — and found that he had him entirely at his mercy. This 
 circumstance, and the knowledge that the other Indians 
 were now overpowered, softened the soldier's wrath; and 
 when Nathan, rushing to assist him, cried aloud to him to 
 move aside, that he might "knock the assassin knave's 
 brains out," Eoland replied by begging Nathan to spare 
 his life. "I have disarmed him," he cried — "he resists no 
 more — don't kill him." 
 
 "To the last man of his tribe !" cried Nathan, with unex- 
 ampled ferocity; and, without another word, drove the 
 hatchet into the wretch's brain. 
 
 Th€ victors now leaping to their feet, looked round for 
 the fifth savage and the prisoner ; and directed by a horri- 
 ble din under the bank of |;he stream, vhich was resound- 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. S65 
 
 ing ■with curses, groans, heavy blows, and the splashing of 
 ■water, ran to the spot, where the last incident of battle 
 was revealed to thea in a spectacle as novel as it ■was 
 shocking. The Indian lay on his back, suffocating in mire 
 and water, while astride his body sat the late prisoner, 
 covered from head to foot with mud and gore, furiously 
 plying his iists, for he had no other ■weapons, about the 
 head and face of his foe, his blows falling like eledge 
 hammers or battering rams, with such strength and fury, 
 that it seemed impossible any one of them could fail to 
 crush the skull to atoms ; and all the while garnishing them 
 ■with a running accompaniment of oaths and maledictions 
 little less emphatic and over^whelming. "You switches 
 gentlemen, do you, you exflunctified, perditioned rascal? 
 Arn't you got it, you nigger-in-law to old Sattan? you 
 'tarnal half-imp you? H'yar's for you, you dog, and 
 thar's for you, dog's dog ! H'yar's the way I pay you in 
 a small change of sogdologers !" 
 
 And thus he cried, until Roland and Nathan, seizing 
 him by the shoulders, dragged him by main force from the 
 Indian, whom, as was found, when they came to examine 
 the body afterwards, he had actually pommelled to death, 
 the skull having been beaten in as with bludgeons. The 
 victor sprang upon his feet, and roared his triumph aloud, 
 — "Arn't I licked him handsome ! Hurrah for Kentucky 
 and old Salt — Cock-a-doodle-doo!" 
 
 And with that, turning to his deliverers, he displayed 
 to their astonished eyes, though disfigured by blood and 
 mire, the never-to-be-forgotten features of the captain of 
 horse-thieves, Eoaring Ealph Stackpole. 
 
366 NICK or THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 And, had you not by wondrous fortune come, 
 This vengeance on me had they executed. 
 
 — Titus Andronicus. 
 
 The amazement of Stackpole, at finding to whom lie 
 owed his deliverance, was not less than that of the travel- 
 lers; but it was mingled in his case with feelings of the 
 most unbounded and clamorous delight. Nathan he 
 grasped by the hands, being the first upon whom he set his 
 eyes ; but no sooner had they wandered to the soldier, than 
 throwing his arms around him, he gave him a hug, neither 
 tender nor respectful, but indicative of the intensest affec- 
 tion and rapture. 
 
 "You cut the rope, strannger, and you cut the tug," he 
 cried, "on madam's beseeching ! but h'yar's the time you 
 helped me out of a fix without axing ! ISTow, strannger, I 
 arn't your dog, 'cause how, I'm anngelliferous madam's; 
 but if I arn't your dog, I'm your man, Ealph Stackpole, to 
 be your true blue through time and etarnity, any way you'll 
 ax me ; and if you wants a sodger, I'll list with you, I will, 
 'tarnal death to me 1" 
 
 "But how, in heaven's name, came you here a prisoner? 
 I saw you escape with mine own eyes," said Eoland, better 
 pleased, perhaps, at the accession of such a stout auxiliary 
 than with his mode of professing love and devotion. 
 
 "Strannger," said Balph, "if you war to ax me from now 
 till doomsday about the why and the wharfo', I couldn't 
 make you more nor one answer ; I come to help annegellif- 
 erous madam out of the hands of the abbregynes, accord- 
 ing to my sworn duty as her natteral-bom slave and re- 
 demptioner ! I war hard on the track when the villains 
 here caught me." 
 
 '^hat !" cried Eoland, his heart for the first time warm- 
 ing towards the despised horse-thief, while even Nathan 
 surveyed him with something like complacency, "you are 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. ^67 
 
 following my poor eousinj then? You were not brought 
 here a prisoner?" 
 
 "If I war I wish I may be shot," said Ealph ; "it warn't 
 a mile back, on the ridge, whar the Injuns nipped me; 
 'cause how, I jist banged away at a deer, and jist then up 
 jumps the rascals on me, af o' I had loaded old speechifier ; 
 and so they nabb'd me! And so, sodger, h'yar's the way 
 of it all. You see d'you see, as soon as Tom Bruce comes 
 to, so as to be able to hold the boss himself " 
 
 '^Vhat," said Roland, "was he not mortally wounded?" 
 
 "He arn't hurt much to speak on, for all of his looking 
 so much like coflBn-meat at the first jump ; it war a kind of 
 narvousness that come over him that men feels when they 
 gets the thwack of a bullet among the narves. And so, 
 you see, d'you see, says I, 'Tom Bruce, do you stick to the 
 erittur, and he'll holp you out of the skrimmage;' and 
 says I, 'I'll take the back track, and follow atter madam.' 
 And says hi, says he — but, 'tarnal death to me, let's scalp 
 these h'yar dead villains, and do the talking atter? l)id 
 you see the licking I gin this here feller? It war a 
 reggelar fair knock-down-and-drag-out, and I lick'd him! 
 Thar's all sorts of ways of killing Injuns; but I reckon 
 I'm the only gentleman in all Kentuck as ever took a 
 scalp in the way of natur' ! Hurrah for Kentuck ! and 
 hurrah for Ealph Stackpole, for he ar' a screamer!" 
 
 The violation of the dead bodies was a mode of crowning 
 their victory which Eoland would have gladly dispensed 
 with; but such forbearance, opposed to all border ideas of 
 manly spirit and propriety, found no advocate in the cap- 
 tain of horse-thieves, and none, we are sorry to say, even 
 in the conscientious Nathan, who, having bathed his peace- 
 ful sword too deep in blood to boggle longer at trifles, 
 seemed mightily inclined to try his own hand at the exer- 
 cise. But this addition to the catalogue of his back- 
 slidings was spared him. Eoaring Ealph falling to work 
 with an energy of spirit and rapidity of execution which 
 showed he needed no assistance^ and left no room for com- 
 petition. 
 
368 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 Such is tlie practice of the border, and such it has been, 
 ever since the mortal feud, never destined to be really 
 ended but with the annihilation of the American race, 
 first began between the savage and the white intruder. It 
 was, and is, essentially a measure of retaliation, compelled, 
 if not justified, by the ferocious example of the red-man. 
 Brutality ever begets brutality ; and magnanimity of arms 
 can be only exercised in the case of a magnanimous foe. 
 With such, the wildest and fiercest rover of the frontier 
 becomes a generous, and even humane enemy. 
 
 The Virginian was yet young in the war of the wilder- 
 ness; and turning in disgust from a scene he could not 
 prevent, he made his way to the fire, where the haunch of 
 venison, sending forth a savory steam through the whole 
 valley, was yet roasting on the rude Indian spit, — a spec- 
 tacle which (we record it with shame) quite banished from 
 his mind, not only all thoughts of Ralph's barbarism, but 
 even the sublime military ardor awakened by the din and 
 perils of the late conflict. Nor were its effects less po- 
 tential upon Nathan and Ealph, who, having first washed 
 from their hands and faces the stains of battle, now drew 
 nigh, snufiing the perfume of a dinner with as much ardor 
 as they could have bestowed on the scent of battle. The 
 haunch, cooked to their hands, was straightway removed to 
 a convenient place; where all, drawing their knives, feL. 
 foul with an energy of appetite and satisfaction that left 
 them oblivious of most sublunary affairs. The soldier for- 
 got his sorrows, and Nathan forgot little Peter, — though 
 little Peter, by suddenly creeping out of the bushes on the 
 hill, and crawling humbly to the table, and his master's 
 side, made it apparent he had not forgot himself. 
 
 As for the captain of horse-thieves, he forgot every thing 
 save the dinner itself, which he attacked with an appetite 
 well nigh ravenous, having, as he swore, by way of grace 
 over the first mouthful, eaten nothing save roots and leaves 
 for more than three days. It was only when, by despatch- 
 ing at least twice his share of the joint, he began to feel, 
 as he said, "summat like a hoss and a gentleman," that 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. S69 
 
 the others succeeded in drawing from him a full account 
 of the circumstances which had attended his solitary in- 
 road into the Indian country, and his fall into the clutches 
 of the Shawnee party. 
 
 But little had the faithful fellow to impart, beyond what 
 he had already told. Galloping from the fatal hill, the 
 scene of defeat to the young Kentuckians, he sustained Tom 
 Bruce in his arms, until the latter, reviving, had recovered 
 strength enough to provide for his own safety ; upon which 
 Ealph, with a degree of quixotism that formed a part of 
 his character, and which was, in this instance, strengthened 
 by his grateful devotion to Edith, the saver of his life, de- 
 clared he would pursue the trail of her captors, even if it 
 led him to their village, nor cease his efforts until he had 
 rescued her out of their hands, or laid down his life in 
 her service. In this resolution he was encouraged by 
 Bruce, who swore, on his part, that he would instantly fol- 
 low with his father, and all the men he could raise, recover 
 the prisoners, and burn the towns of the whole Shawnee 
 nation about their ears; a determination he was perhaps 
 the more readily driven to by the reflection, that the un- 
 lucky captives were his father's individual guests, and had 
 been snatched away while still, in a manner, under, or 
 relying on, his father's protection. So much he promised, 
 and so much there was no doubt he would, if able, perform ; 
 nevertheless, he exhorted Ralph to do his best in the mean 
 while to help the strangers, vowing, if he succeeded in 
 rendering them any assistance, or in taking a single scalp 
 of the villains that had borne them off, he would not only 
 never lynch him himself, but would not even allow others 
 to do it, though he were to steal all the horses in Kentucky, 
 his father's best bay mare included. 
 
 Thus encouraged, the valiant horse-thief, bidding fare- 
 well to Tom Bruce and Brown Briareus together, com- 
 menced making good his words, by creeping back to the 
 battlefield; when, arriving before Nathan, he struck the 
 trail of the main party, and immediately pursued it with 
 zeal and courage, but stni with the necessary caution and 
 
270 NICK or THE WOODS. 
 
 circumspectioii ; his hopes of being able to do something 
 to the advantage of his benefactress, resting principally on 
 his knowledge of several of the outer Indian towns, in 
 every one of which, he boasted, he had stolen horses. 
 
 Being but poorly provided with food, and afraid to hunt 
 while following so closely on the heels of the marauders, he 
 was soon reduced to want and suffering, which he bore for 
 three days with heroic fortitude; until at last, on the 
 morning of the present day, being in a state of utter star- 
 vation, and a buck springing up in his path, he could re- 
 sist the temptation no longer, and so fired upon it. The 
 animal being wounded, and apparently severely, he set off 
 in pursuit, too eager to lose time by re-charging his piece; 
 and it was while he was in that defenceless condition that 
 the five Indians, a detachment and rearguard as it proved, 
 of the very party he was dogging, attracted by the sound 
 of his gun, stole upon him unawares and made him a 
 prisoner. 
 
 This, it seems, had happened but a short distance be- 
 hind ; and there was every reason to suppose that the buck 
 from whose loins the travellers had filched the haunch, 
 that destiny had superseded by a better, was the identical 
 animal whose seducing appearance had brought Stackpole 
 into captivity. He was immediately recognized by his 
 captors, whose exultation was boundless, as indeed was their 
 cruelty; and he could only account for their halting with 
 him in that retired hollow, instead of pushing on to dis- 
 play their prize to the main body, by supposing they could 
 not resist their desire to enjoy a snug little foretaste of the 
 joys of torturing him at the stake, all by themselves, — a 
 right they had earned by their good fortune in taking him. 
 In the valley, then, they had paused, and tying him up, 
 proceeded straightway to flog him to their heart's content; 
 and they had just resolved to intermit the amusement 
 awhile in favor of their dinner, when the appearance of 
 his boldest deliverers, rushing into their camp, converted 
 the scene of brutal merriment into one pf retributiye yea- 
 geanpe and bloo^, 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. S'J'l 
 
 The discovery that the five hviman beings he had con- 
 tributed so much to destroy, were part and parcel of the 
 very band, the authors of all his sufferings, and captors of 
 his kinswoman, abated some little feelings of compunction 
 with which Eoland had begun occasionally to look upon 
 the gory corses around him. 
 
 The main body of marauders, with their prisoner, there 
 seemed good reason to suppose were yet upon their march 
 to the village, though too far advanced to leave any hope 
 of overtaking them, were that even desirable. It is true, 
 that Eoland, fired by the thought of being so near his kins- 
 woman, and having before his eyes a proof of what might 
 be done by craft and courage, even against overwhelming 
 numbers, urged Nathan immediately to reconunenee the 
 pursuit; the Indians would doubtless halt to rest and re- 
 fresh, as the luckless five had done, and might be ap- 
 proached and destroyed, now that they themselves had in- 
 creased tlieir forces by the rescue of Ralph, in the same 
 way. "We can carry with us," he said, "these Indians' 
 guns, with which we shall be more than a match for the 
 villains;" and he added other arguments, such, however, 
 as appeared much more weighty to himself than to honest 
 Nathan. 
 
 That the main party should have halted, as he supposed, 
 did not appear at all probable to Nathan; they had no 
 cause to arrest them in their journey, and they were but a 
 few miles removed from the village, whither they would 
 doubtless proceed without delay to enjoy the rewards of 
 their villainy, and end the day in revelry and debauch. 
 "And truly, friend," he added, "it will be better for thee, 
 and me, and the maid Edith, that we steal her by night 
 from out of a village defended only by drowsy squaws and 
 drunken warriors, than if we were to aim at taking her 
 out of the camp of a war party. Do thee keep thee pa- 
 tience ; and, truly, there is no telling what good may come 
 of it." In short, Nathan had here, as in previous in- 
 stances, made up his mind to conduct affairs his own way j 
 
273 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 and Eoland, thougli torn by impatience, could do notliing 
 better than submit. 
 
 And now, the dinner being at last despatched, Nathan 
 directed that the bodies of the slain Indians should be 
 tumbled into a gully, and hidden from sight; a measure 
 of such evident precaution as to need no explanation. This 
 was immediately done; but not before Ealph and the man 
 of peace had well rummaged the pouches of the dead, help- 
 ing themselves to such valuables and stores of provender 
 and ammunition as they could lay hands on ; in addition to 
 which, Nathan stripped from one a light Indian hunting- 
 shirt, from another a blanket, a woman's shawl, and a 
 medicine bag, from a third divers jingling bundles of 
 brooches and hawk-bells, together with a pouch containing 
 vermilion and other paints, the principal articles of savage 
 toilet; which he made up into a bundle, to be used for a 
 purpose he did not conceal from his comrades. He then 
 seized upon the rifles of the dead (from among which 
 Stackpole had already singled out his own), and, remov- 
 ing the locks, hid them away in crannies of the clifEs, con- 
 cealing the locks in other places; — a disposition which he 
 also made of the knives and tomahawks; remarking, with 
 great justice, that "if honest Christian men were to have 
 no good of the weapons, it was just as well murdering 
 Injuns should be no bettter ofE." 
 
 These things concluded, the dead covered over with 
 boughs and brambles, and nothing left in the vale to attract 
 a passing and unobservant eye, he gave the signal to re- 
 sume the march, and with Eoland and Captain Ealph stole 
 from the field of battle. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. SI'S 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 List, list! I hear 
 Some far-off halloo break the silent air. 
 
 — Comus. 
 
 The twilight was darkening in the west when the three 
 adventurers, stealing through tangled thickets and along 
 lonely ridges, carefully avoiding all frequented paths, 
 looked out at last, from a distant hill, upon the valley in 
 which lay the village of the Black Vulture. The ruddy 
 light of evening, bursting from clouds of crimson and 
 purple, and shooting down through gaps of the hills in 
 cascades of fire, fell brightly and sweetly on the little 
 Drairies or natural meadow lands, which, dotted over with 
 clumps of trees, and watered by a fairy river, a tributary 
 of the rapid Miami, winding along from side to side, now 
 hiding beneath the shadow of the hills, now glancing into 
 light, gave an air of tender beauty to the scene, better be- 
 fitting, as it might have seemed, the retreat of the inno- 
 cent and peaceful sons of Oberon, than the wild and war- 
 like children of the wilderness. Looking further up the 
 vale, the eye fell upon patches of ripening maize, waving 
 along the river, and, beyond these, just where the valley 
 winded away behind the hills, at the distance of a mile or 
 more, thin wreaths of smoke, creeping from roofs of bark 
 and skins, indicated the presence of the Indian village. 
 
 Thus arrived at the goal and haven of their hopes, the 
 theatre in which was to be acted the last scene in the drama 
 of their enterprise, the travellers surveyed it for a while 
 from their concealment in deep silence, each speculating in 
 his own mind upon the exploits still to be achieved, the 
 perils yet to be encountered, ere success should crown their 
 exertions, already so arduous and so daring; then, creeping 
 back again into a deep hollow convenient for their purpose, 
 they held their last consultation, and made their final 
 preparations for entering the village. This Nathan at 
 first proposed to do entirely alone, to spy out the condition 
 
2V4 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 of the yillage, and to discover, if possible, in what qnartel* 
 the marauders had bestowed the unhappy Edith; and this 
 being a duty requiring the utmost secrecy and circumspec- 
 tion, he insisted it could not be safely committed to more 
 than one person. 
 
 "In that case," said valiant Ealph, "I'm your gentle- 
 man. Do you think, old father Bloody (and, 'tarnal death 
 to me, I do think you're 'ginnin' to be a peeler of the rale 
 ring-tail specie — I do, old Kusty, and thar's my fo'-paw 
 on it. You've got to be a man at last, a feller for close 
 locks and fighting Injuns that's quite cur'ous to think on, 
 and I'll lick any man that says a word agin you, I will, 
 'tarnal death to me) ; but I say, do you think I'm come so 
 far atter madam to gin up the helping her out of bondage 
 to any mortal two-legg'd erittur whatsomever? I'm the 
 person what knows this h'yar town better nor ar' another 
 feller in all Kentucky, and that I stick on, for, cuss me, 
 I've stole bosses in it !" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, after reflecting awhile, "thee 
 might make theeself of service to the maid, even in thee 
 own way; but, verily, thee is an unlucky man, and thee 
 brings bad luck wheresoever thee goes, and I'm afeard of 
 thee." 
 
 "Afeard of your nose !" said Ealph, with great indigna- 
 tion. "Arn't I jist been slicked out of the paws of five 
 mortal abbregynes that had me in the tugs ? and amt that 
 luck enough for any feller? I tell you what. Bloody Na- 
 than, me and you will snufE the track together; you shall 
 hunt up angelliferous madam, and gin her my compliments, 
 and, while you're about it, I'll steal her a horse to ride ofE 
 on !" 
 
 "Truly," said Nathan, complacently, "1 was thinking of 
 that; for they says thee is good in a horse-pound, and it 
 needs the poor maid should have something better to de- 
 pend on in flight than her own poor innocent legs. And 
 so, friend, if thee thinks in thee conscience thee can help 
 her to a strong animal, without fear of discovery, I don't 
 care if thee goes with me; and truly, if thee could steal 
 
NICK OP THE -WOODS. 2^5 
 
 two or three more of the creatures for our own riding, it 
 might greatly advantage the maid." 
 
 "Thar you talk like a feller of gumption," said Ealph; 
 "only show me the sight of a bit of skin rope for halters, 
 and you'll see a sample of hoss-stealing to make your ha'r 
 stand on eend !" 
 
 "Of a truth," said Nathan, "thee shan't want for hal- 
 ters, if leather can make them. There is that on my back 
 which will make thee a dozen; and truly, as it needs I 
 should now put me on attire more suitable to an Injun 
 village, it is a satisfaction thee can put the old garment to 
 such good use." 
 
 With these words, Nathan stripped off his coat of skins, 
 so aged and so venerable, and gave it to the captain of 
 horse-thieves, who, vastly delighted with the prize, in- 
 stantly commenced cutting it into strips, which he twisted 
 together, and fashioned into rude halters, whilst Nathan 
 supplied its place by the loose calico shirt he had selected 
 from among the spoils of the Indian party, throwing over 
 it, mantlewise, the broad Indian blanket. His head he 
 bound round with the gaudy shawl which he had also taken 
 from the brows of a dead foeman; and he hung about his 
 person various pouches and ornamented belts, provided for 
 the purpose. Then, daubing over his face, arms, and 
 breast with streaks of red, black, and green paint, that 
 seemed designed to represent snakes, lizards, and other 
 reptiles, he was, on a sudden, converted into a highly re- 
 spectable-looking savage, as grim and awe-inspiring as 
 these barbaric ornaments and his attire, added to his lofty 
 stature, could make him. Indeed, the metamorphosis was 
 so complete, that Captain Ealph, as he swore, could scarce 
 look at him without longing, as this worthy personage ex- 
 pressed it, "to be at his top-knot." 
 
 In the meanwhile, Forrester had not deferred with 
 patience to an arrangement which threatened to leave him, 
 the most interested of all, in inglorious activity, while his 
 companions were laboring in the cause of his Edith. He 
 remonstrated, and insisted upon accompanying them to 
 
276 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the village, to share with them all the dangers of the 
 enterprise. 
 
 "If there was danger to none but ourselves, truly, thee 
 should go with us and welcome," said Nathan, represent- 
 ing. Justly enough, the little service that Eoland, destitute 
 of the requisite knowledge and skill, could be expected to 
 render, and the dangers he must necessarily bring upon the 
 others, in case of any, the most ordinary difficulties aris- 
 ing in their progress through the village. Everything 
 must now depend upon address, upon cunning and pres- 
 ence of mind; the least indiscretion (and how many might 
 not the soldier, his feelings wound up to a pitch of the 
 intensest excitement, commit), must of a necessity termi- 
 nate in the instant destruction of all. In short, Eoland 
 was convinced, though sorely against his will, that wisdom 
 and affection both called on him to play the part Nathan 
 assigned him; and he submitted to be ruled accordingly, 
 with the understanding, however, that the rendezvous, in 
 which he was to await the operations of the others, should 
 be upon the very borders of the village, whence he might, 
 in any pressing emergency, iu case of positive danger and 
 conflict, be immediately called to their assistance. 
 
 When the twilight had darkened away, and the little 
 river, rippling along on its course, sparkled only in the 
 light of the stars, the three friends crept from their retreat, 
 and descended boldly into the valley ; where, guided by 
 the barking of dogs, the occasional yells of a drunken or 
 gamesome savage, and now and then the red glare of a fire 
 flashing from the open crannies of a cabin, they found 
 little difficulty in approaching the Indian village. It was 
 situated on the further bank of the stream, and, as de- 
 scribed, just behind the bend of the vale, at the bottom of 
 a rugged, but not lofty hill ; which, jutting almost into the 
 river, left yet space enough for the forty or fifty lodges 
 composing the village, sheltering them in winter from the 
 bitter blasts that rush, at that season, from the northern 
 lakes. Beyond the river, on the side towards the travel- 
 lers, the vale was broader; and it was there the Indians 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 877 
 
 had chiefly planted their corn-fields, — ^fields enriched hy 
 the labor, perhaps also by the tears, of their oppressed and 
 degraded women. 
 
 Arriving at the borders of the cultivated grounds, the 
 three adventurers crossed the river, which was neither 
 broad nor deep, and stealing among logs and stumps at 
 the foot of the hill, where some industrious savage had in 
 former years begun to clear a field, which, however, his 
 wives had never planted, they lay down in concealment, 
 waiting until the subsiding of the imusual bustle in the 
 village, a consequence manifestly of the excesses which 
 Nathan predicted the victors would indulge in, should 
 render their further advance impracticable. 
 
 But this was not the work of a moment. The savage 
 can drink and dance through the night with as lusty a zeal 
 as his white neighbor; the song, the jest, the merry tale, 
 are as dear to his imagination; and in the retirement of 
 his own village, feeling no longer the restraint of solid 
 gravity, — assumed in the haunts of the white man less to 
 play the part of a hero than to cover the nakedness of his 
 own inferiority, — ^he can give himself up to wild andul- 
 gence, the sport of whim and frolic; and when the fire- 
 water is the soul of the feast, the feast only ends with the 
 last drop of liquor. 
 
 It could be scarcely doubted that the Indians of the vil- 
 lage were this night paying their devotions to the Manito 
 of the rum-keg, and drinking folly and fury together from 
 the enchanted draught, which one of the bravest of the 
 race — ^its ardorer and victim, like Logan the heroic, and 
 Ked-Jacket the renowned, — declared could only have been 
 distilled "from the hearts of wildcats and the tongues of 
 women, — ^it made him so fierce and so foolish;" nor could 
 it, on the other hand, be questioned that many a sad and 
 gloomy reminiscence, the recollection of wrong, of defeat, 
 of disaster, of the loss of friends and of country, was 
 mingled in the joy of the debauch. 
 
 From their lurking-place near the village, the three 
 friends could hear many a wild whoop, now fierce and 
 
~'J'8 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 startling, now plaintive and mourning, — ^the one, as Na* 
 than and Ealpli said, the halloo for revenge, the other the 
 whoop of lamentation, — at intervals chiming strangely in 
 with unmeaning shrieks and roaring lau'ghter, the squeak- 
 ing of women and the gibbering of children, with the 
 barking of curs, the utterance of obstreperous enjoyment, 
 in which the whole village, brute and human, seemed 
 equally to share. For a time, indeed, one might have 
 deemed the little hamlet an outer burgh of Pandemonium 
 itself; and the captain of horse-thieves swore, that, hav- 
 ing been of opinion "the red abbregynes war the rale 
 children of Sattan, and niggurs only the grand-boys, he 
 should now hold the matter to be as settled as if booked 
 down in an almanac, — he would, "tarnal death to him." 
 
 But if the festive spirit of the barbarians might have 
 lasted for ever, there was, it appeared, no such exhaustless 
 quality in their liquor ; and that failing at last, the uproar 
 began gradually to decrease, although it was not until 
 within an hour of midnight that Bloody Nathan declared 
 the moment had arrived for entering the village. 
 
 He then rose from his lair, and repeating his injunc- 
 tions to Roland to remain where he was, until the issue of 
 his own visit should be known, added a word of parting 
 counsel, which, to Roland's imagination, bore somewhat 
 an ominous character. 
 
 "The thing that is to come,'"' he said, "neither thee nor 
 me knows any thing about ; for, truly, an Indian village is 
 a war-trap, which one may sometimes creep into easy 
 enough ; but, truly, the getting out again is another matter. 
 And so, friend, if it should be my luck, and friend Ralph's, 
 to be killed or captivated, so that we cannot return to thee 
 again, do thee move by the first blink of day, and do thee 
 best to save thee own life; and, truly, I have some hope 
 thee may succeed, seeing that, if I should fall, little Peter 
 (which I mil leave with thee, for truly he would but en- 
 cumber me among the dogs of the village, having better 
 skill to avoid murdering Injuns than the creatures of his 
 own kind), will make thee his master, — as, verily, he can 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 279 
 
 no longer serve a dead one, and show thee the way back 
 again from the wilderness. Truly, friend, he hath an af- 
 fection for thee, for thee has used him well; which he can 
 say of no other person, save only thee and me excepted." 
 
 With that, having laid aside his gun, which, as he repre- 
 sented, could be in such an undertaking of no service, and 
 directed Stackpole to do the same, he shook Eoland by the 
 hand, and, waiting an instant till Ealph had followed his 
 example, and added his farewell in the brief phrase, — 
 "Sodger, I'm atter my mistress; and, for all Bloody Na- 
 than's small-talk about massacree and captivation, we'll 
 fetch her, with a most beautiful lot of bosses; so thar's no 
 fawwell about it," — turned to little Peter, whom he ad- 
 dressed quite as gravely as he had done the Virginian: 
 "Now, little dog Peter," said he, "I leave thee to take care 
 of theeself and the young man that is with thee; and do 
 thee be good and faithful, and obedient, as thee always has 
 been, and have a good care thee keeps out of mischief." 
 
 With these words, which Peter doubtless perfectly under- 
 stood, for he squatted himself down on the ground, with- 
 out any attempt to follow his master, Nathan departed, 
 with Eoaring Ealph at his side, leaving Eoland to mutter 
 his anxieties and fears, his doubts and impatience, into the 
 ears of the least presuming of counsellors. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 Having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only 
 in rogue. — Winter's Tale. 
 
 The night was brilliantly clear, the stars shining with 
 an excess of lustre, with which Nathan would perhaps, at 
 that moment, have gladly dispensed, since it was by no 
 means favorable to the achievement he was now so daringly 
 attempting. Fortunately, however, the Indian village lay, 
 lor the most part, in the shadow of the hill, itself covered 
 
280 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 with majestic maples and tulip-trees, that rose in dark 
 and solemn masses above it, and thus offered the conceal- 
 ment denied in the more open parts of the valley. With 
 Ealph still at his side, he crept round the projecting corner 
 of the hill, and, shrouded in its gloom, drew nigh the vil- 
 lage, wherein might be still occasionally heard the halloo 
 of a drunken savage, followed by an uproarious chorus of 
 barking and howling curs. 
 
 Whether it was that these sounds, or some gloomy fore- 
 bodings of his own, awoke the anxieties of Nathan, he did 
 not deign to reveal; but by and by, having arrived within 
 but a few paces of a wretched pile of skins and boughs, the 
 dwelling of some equally wretched and improvident bar- 
 barian, he came to a sudden halt, and withdrawing the cap- 
 tain of horse-thieves aside from the path, addressed him in 
 the following terms: — 
 
 "Thee says, friend, thee has taken horses from this very 
 village, and that thee knows it well?" 
 
 "As well," replied Ralph, "as I know the stepmothers 
 on my own thumbs and fingers — I do, 'tamal death to me — 
 that is to say, all the parts injacent and outjacent, circum- 
 surrounding the hoss-stamp; for thar's the place of my 
 visiting. The way to fetch it, old Bloody, is jist to fetch 
 round this h'yar old skin-pot, whar thar's a whole bee's- 
 nest of young papooses the size of bull-toads— from that, 
 up (I know it, 'cause how I heerd 'em squallin' ; and thar 
 war some one a lickin' 'em) ; or, if you don't favor taking 
 it so close to the skirmudgeons, then you must claw up the 
 knob h'yar, and then take and take the shoot, till you fetch 
 right among the bosses, whar you h'ar them whinnying 
 down the holler ; and thar " 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, cutting him short, "it is on thee 
 doings, more than on them of any others, that the hopes 
 of the maid Edith " 
 
 "Call her anngelliferous madam," said Ealph, "for I 
 can't stand any feller being familiar with her — I can't, no 
 how." 
 
 "Well, friendj" said Nathan, "it is on thee doings that 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 881 
 
 her escaping the Shawnee villains this night depends. If 
 thee does well, it may be we shall both discover and carry 
 her safe away from captivation; if thee acts as a foolish, 
 imprudent man — and truly, friend, I have my fears of 
 thee — thee will both fail to help her theeself, and prevent 
 others doing it, who, it may be, has the power." 
 
 "Old Bloody," said the captain of horse-thieves, with 
 something like a gulp of emotion, "you arn't respectable to 
 a feller's feelings. But I will stand anything from you, 
 'cause how, you down'd my house in a fa'r tusle, and you 
 holped the captain thar that holjied me out of trouble. If , 
 you're atter ginning me a bit of wisdom, and all on 
 madam's account, I'm jist the gentleman that h'ars you. 
 State the case, and h'yar stands I confawmable." 
 
 "Well, friend," said Nathan, "what I have to advise thee 
 is, that thee stops where thee is, leaving the rest of this 
 matter entirely to me; seeing that, as thee knows nothing 
 of this Injun village, excepting the horse-pound thereof, 
 it will not be safe for thee to enter. Do thee rest where 
 thee is, and I will spy out the place of the maiden's con- 
 cealing." 
 
 "Old fellow," said Captain Kalph, "you won't pretend 
 you knows more of the place than me? You don't go for 
 to say you ever stole a hoss here?" 
 
 "Do thee be content, friend," said Nathan, "to know 
 there is not a cabin in all the village that is unbeknown to 
 me ; do thee be content with that. Thee must not go near 
 the pound, until thee knows for certain the maid thee calls 
 madam can be saved. Truly, friend, it may be we cannot 
 help her to-night, but may do so to-morrow night." 
 
 "I see what you're up to," said Ealph; "and thar's no 
 denying it war a natteral piece of nonsense to steal a hoss 
 afo' madam war ready to ride him. And so, old Nathan, 
 if it ar' your qualified opinion I'll sarve madam better by 
 snuggin' under a log, than by snuffin' atter her among the 
 cabins, I'm jist the gentleman to knock under, accordin' 
 to reason." 
 
 This declaration seemed greatly to relieve the uneasi- 
 
283 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 ness of Nathan, who, recommending him to be as good as 
 his word, and ensconce among some logs lying near the 
 path, awaiting the event of his own visit to the heart of the 
 village, immediately took his leave; though not with the 
 timid and skulking step of a spy. Wrapping his blanket 
 about his shoulders, and assuming the gait of a savage, 
 he stalked boldly forwards; jingling under his mantle 
 the bundle of hawk-bells which he carried in his hand, 
 as if actually to invite the observation of such barbarians 
 as were yet moving through the village. 
 
 But this stretch of audacity, as the listening horse-thief 
 was at first inclined to esteem it, was soon seen to have been 
 adopted with a wise foreknowledge of its effects in remov- 
 ing one of the first and greatest difBeulties in the wan- 
 derer's way. At the first cabin was a troop of yelling 
 curs, that seemed somewhat disturbed by the stranger's 
 approach, and disposed to contest his right of passing scot 
 free; but a jerk of the bells settled the difficulty in a mo- 
 ment, and the animals, mute and crest-fallen, slunk hastily 
 away, as if expecting the crash of a tomahawk about their 
 ears, in the usual summary Indian way, to punish their 
 presumption in baying a warrior. 
 
 "A right-down natteral, fine conceit!" muttered Cap- 
 tain Ealph, approvingly ; "the next time I come a-grabbin' 
 hosses, if I don't fetch a bushel of the jinglers I wish I 
 may be kicked ! Them thar Injun dogs is always the 
 devil." 
 
 In the meanwhile, Nathan, though proceeding with such 
 apparent boldness, and relying upon his disguise as all- 
 sufficient to avert suspicion, was by no means inclined to 
 court any such dangers as could be really avoided. If the 
 light of a fire, still burning in a wigwam, and watched by 
 wakeful habitants, shone too brightly from its door, he 
 crept by with the greatest circumspection, and he gave as 
 wide a berth as possible to every noisy straggler who yet 
 roamed through the village. 
 
 There was indeed necessity for every precaution. It 
 was evident that the village was by no means so destitute 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 283 
 
 of defence as he had imagined — ^that the warriors of We- 
 nonga had not generally obeyed the call that carried the 
 army of the tribes to Kentucky, but had remained in in- 
 glorious ease and sloth in their own cabins. There was 
 no other way, at least, of accounting for the dozen or more 
 male vagabonds whom he found at intervals stretched here 
 before a fire, where they had been carousing in the open 
 air, and there lying asleep across the path, just where the 
 demon of good cheer had dropped them. 
 
 Making his own inferences from their appearance, and 
 passing them with care, sometimes even, where their slum- 
 bers seemed unsound, crawling by on his face, he suc- 
 ceeded at last in reaching the central part of the village, 
 where the presence of several cabins of logs, humble 
 enough in themselves, but far superior to the ordinary 
 hovels of an Indian village, indicated the abiding place of 
 the superiors of the clan, or of those apostate white men, 
 renegades from the states, traitors to their country and to 
 civilization, who were at that day, in so many instances, 
 found uniting their fortunes with the Indians, following, 
 and even leading them, in their bloody incursions upon the 
 frontiers. 
 
 To one of those cabins Nathan made his way with 
 stealthy step; and peeping through a chink in the logs, 
 beheld a proof that here a renegade had cast his lot, in 
 the appearance of some half-a-dozen naked children, of 
 fairer hue than the savages, yet not so pale as those of his 
 own race, sleeping on mats round a fire, at which sat, 
 nodding and dozing, the dark-eyed Indian mother. 
 
 One brief, earnest look Nathan gave to this spectacle; 
 then stealing away, he bent his steps towards a neighboring 
 cabin, which he approached with even greater precautions 
 than before. This was a hovel of logs, like the other, but 
 of still better construction, having the uncommon con- 
 venience of a chimney built of sticks and mud, through 
 whose low wide top ascended volumes of smoke, made ruddy 
 by the glare of the flames below. A cranny here also afforded 
 the means of spying into the doings within; and Nathan, 
 
284 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 who approached it with the precision of one not unfamiliar 
 with the premises, was not tardy to avail himself of its 
 advantages. Bare naked walls of logs, the interstices 
 rudely stuffed with moss and clay — a few uncouth wooden 
 stools — a rough tahle— a bed of skins, — and implements of 
 war and the chase, hung in various places about the room, 
 all illuminated more brilliantly by the fire on the hearth 
 than by the miserable tallow candle, stuck on a lamp of 
 humid clay, that glimmered on the table, were not the 
 only objects to attract the wanderer's eye. Sitting by the 
 fire were two men, both white; though the blanket and 
 calico shirt of one, and the red shawl which he was just 
 in the act of removing from his brows as Nathan peeped 
 through the chink, with an uncommon darkness of skin 
 and hair, might have well made him pass for an Indian. 
 His figure was very tall, well proportioned, and athletic; 
 his visage manly, and even handsome, though the wrinkles 
 of forty winters furrowed deeply in his brows, and perhaps 
 a certain repelling gleam, the light of smothered passions, 
 shining from the eyes below, might have left that merit 
 questionable with the beholder. 
 
 The other was a smaller man, whom Eoland, had he been 
 present, would have recognized as the supposed half-breed, 
 who, at the partition of spoils, after the capture of his 
 party and the defeat of the young Kentuckians, had given 
 him a prisoner into the hands of the three Piankeshaws — 
 in a word, the renegade father of Telle Doe. Nor was his 
 companion less familiar to Nathan, who beheld in his 
 sombre countenance the features of that identical stranger, 
 seen with Doe at the fire among the assailants at the mem- 
 orable ruin, whose appearance had awakened the first sus- 
 picion that there was more in the attack than proceeded 
 from ordinary causes. 
 
 This was a discovery well fitted to increase the interest, 
 and sharpen the curiosity of the man of peace, who, peer- 
 ing in upon the pair from the chink, gave all his faculties 
 to the duty of listening and observing. The visage of 
 Doe, dark and sullen at the best, was now peculiarly moody ; 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 285 
 
 -and he sat gazing into the fire, apparently regardless of 
 his companion, who, as he drew the shawl from his head, 
 and threw it aside, muttered something in Doe's ears, but 
 in a voice too low for Nathan to distinguish what he said. 
 The whisper was repeated once and again, but without 
 seeming to produce any impression upon Doe's ears; at 
 which the other growing impatient, gave, to Nathan's great 
 satisfaction, a louder voice to his discourse: — 
 
 "Hark you. Jack — Atkinson — Doe — Shanogenaw — Eat- 
 tlesnake — or whatever you may be pleased to call yourself," 
 he cried, striking the muser on the shoulder, "are you mad, 
 drunk or asleep ? Get up, man, and tell me, since you will 
 tell me nothing else, what the devil you are dreaming 
 about?" 
 
 "Why, curse it," said the other, starting up somewhat 
 in anger, but draining, before he spoke, a deep draught 
 from an earthen pitcher that stood on the table — "I was 
 thinking, if you must know, about the youngster, and the 
 dog's death we have driven him to — Christian work for 
 Christian men, eh !" 
 
 "The fate of war !" exclaimed the renegade's companion, 
 with great composure; "we have won the battle, boy — ^the 
 defeated must bear the consequences." 
 
 "Ondoubtedly," said Doe — "up to the rack, fodder or 
 no fodder; that's the word; there's no 'scaping them con- 
 sequences, them must be taken as they come — gantelope, 
 fire-roasting, and all. But, I say, Dick — saving your 
 pardon for being familiar," he added, "there's the small 
 matter to be thought on in the case, — and that is, it was 
 not Injuns, but rale right down Christian men that brought 
 the younker to the tug. It's a bad business for white men, 
 and it makes me feel oncomfortable." 
 
 "Pooh," said the other, with an air of contemptuous com- 
 miseration, "you are growing sentimental. This comes of 
 listening to that confounded whimpering Telle." 
 
 "No words agin the gal !" cried Doe, sternly ; "you may 
 say what you like of me, for I'm a rascal that desarves it ; 
 but I'U stand no barking agin the gal." 
 
386 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "Why, she's a good girl and a pretty girl — ^too good and 
 too pretty to have so crusty a father — and I have nothing 
 against her, but her taking on so about the younker, and so 
 playing the devil with the wits and good looks of my own 
 bargain." 
 
 "A dear bargain she is like to prove to all of us," said 
 Doe, drowning his anger or remorse in another draught 
 from the pitcher. "She has cost us eleven men already; 
 it is well the bulk of the whelps was Wabash and Maumee 
 dogs, or you would have seen her killed and scalped, for 
 all of your guns and whiskey — ^you would, there's no two 
 ways about it. Howsomever, four of 'em was dogs of our 
 own, and two of them was picked off by the Jibbenainosay. 
 I tell you what, Dick, I'm not the man to skear at a raw- 
 head-and-bloody-bones, but I do think the coming of this 
 here cursed Jibbenainosay among us, just as we was nab- 
 bing the gal and the sodger, was as much as to say there 
 was no good could come of it; and so the Injuns thought 
 too — ^you saw how hard it was to bring 'em up to the 
 scratch, when they found he had been knifing a fellow 
 right among 'em! I do believe the crittur's Old Nick 
 himself !" 
 
 "So don't I," said the other; "for it is quite unnatural 
 to suppose the devil would ever take part against his own 
 children." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Doe, "you don't believe in the crittur." 
 
 "Good Jack, honest Jack," replied his companion, "I 
 am no such ass." 
 
 "Them that don't believe in hell, will natterly go agin 
 the devil," muttered the renegade, with strong signs of 
 disapprobation; and then added, earnestl}— "look you, 
 squire, you're a man that knows more of things than me, 
 and the likes of me. You saw that 'ere Injun dead in 
 the woods under the tree, where the five scouters had left 
 him a living man ?" 
 
 "Ay," said the man of the turban; "but he had been 
 wounded by the horsemen you so madly suffered to pass 
 the ambush at the ford, and was obliged to stop from loss 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 287 
 
 of blood and faintness. What so natural as to suppose 
 the younker fell upon him (we saw the tracks of the whole 
 party where the body lay) and slashed him in your devil's 
 style, to take advantage of the superstitious fears of the 
 Indians !" 
 
 "There's nothing like being a lawyer, sartain !" grumbled 
 Doe ; "but the warrior right among us, there, at the ruin ? 
 — you seed him yourself — ^marked right in the thick of us ! 
 I reckon you won't say the sodger, that we had there 
 trapped up fast in the cabin, put the cross on that Injun 
 too?" Af-. 
 
 "Nothing nSOTe likely," said the sceptic, — "a stratagem 
 a bold man might easily execute in the dark." 
 
 "Well, squire," said Doe, waxing impatient, "you may 
 jist as well work it out according to law that this same 
 sodger younker, that never seed Kentucky afore in his life, 
 has been butchering Shawnees there, ay, and in this d — d 
 town too, for ten years agone. Ay, Dick, it's true, jist as 
 I tell you J there has been a dozen or more Injun warriors 
 struck and scalped in our very wigwams here, in the dead 
 of the night, and nothing, in the morning, but the mark of 
 the Jibbenainosay to tell who was the butcher. There's 
 ■not a cussed warrior of them all that doesn't go to his 
 bed at night in fear; for none knows when the Jibbe- 
 nainosay, — the Howl of the Shawnees, — may be upon him. 
 You must know, there was some bloody piece of business 
 done in times past (Injuns is the boys for them things) — 
 the murdering of a knot of innocent people — by some of 
 the tribe, with the old villain Wenonga at the head of 'em. 
 Ever since that, the Jibbenainosay has been murdering 
 among them; and they hold that it's a judgment on the 
 tribe, as ondoubtedly it is. And now, you see, that's jist 
 the reason why the old chief has turned such a vagabond ; 
 for the tribe is rifled at him, because of his bringing such 
 a devil on them, and they won't follow him to battle no 
 more, except some sich riff-raff, vagabond rascals as them 
 we picked up, for this here rascality, no how. And so, you 
 eee^ it has a sort of set the old feller mad; he thinks of 
 
2S8 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 nothing but the Jibbenainosay — (that is, when he's sober; 
 though, cuss him, I believe it's all one when he's drunk, 
 too) — of hunting him up and killing him; for he's jist a 
 feller to fight the devil, there's no two ways about it. It 
 was because I told him we was going to the woods on Salt, 
 where the crittur abounds, and where he might get wind 
 of him, that he smashed his rum-keg, and agreed to go with 
 us." 
 
 "Well, well," said Doe's associate, "this is idle talk. We 
 have won the victory, and must enjoy it. I must see the 
 prize." 
 
 "What good can come of it?" demanded Doe, moodily: 
 "the gal's half dead, and whole crazy, — or so Telle says. 
 And as for your gifting any good will out of her, cuss me 
 if I believe it. And Telle says " 
 
 "That Telle will spoil all ! I told you to keep the girl 
 away from her." 
 
 "Well, and didn't I act aeeordin' ? I told her I'd mur- 
 der her if she went near her again — a full-blooded, rale- 
 grit rascal to talk so to my own daughter, ain't I? But 
 I should like to know where's the good of keeping the girl 
 from her since it's all she has for comfort ?"' 
 
 "And that is the very reason she must be kept away," 
 said the stranger, with a look malignly expressive of self- 
 approving cunning, "there must be no hope, no thought of 
 security, no consciousness of sympathy, to make me more 
 trouble than I have had already. She must know where 
 she is, and what she is, a prisoner among wild savages; a 
 little fright, a little despair, and the work is over. You 
 understand me, eh? There is a way of bringing the devil 
 himself to terms; and as for a woman, she is not much 
 more unmanageable. One week of terrors, real and imag- 
 ined, does the work; and then, my jolly Jack, you have 
 won your wages." 
 
 "And I have desarved 'em," said Doe, striking his fist 
 upon the table with violence ; "for I have made myself jist 
 
 the d dest rascal that was ever made of a white man. 
 
 Lying, and cheating, and perjuring, and murdering — ^it'a 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 289 
 
 nothing better nor murder, that giving up the younker, that 
 never did harm to me or mine, to the Piankeshaws — for 
 they'll bu/n him, they will, d — n 'em ! there's no two ways 
 about it. — There's what I've done for you ; and if you were 
 to give me half the plunder, I reckon 'twould do no more 
 than indamnify me for my rascality. And so here's the 
 end on't ; — ^you've made me a rascal, and you shall pay for 
 it." 
 
 "It is the only thing the world ever does pay for," said 
 the stranger, with edifying coolness, "and so don't be 
 afflicted. To be a rascal is to be a man of sense, — ^pro- 
 vided you are a rascal in a sensible way, — that is, a profit- 
 able one." 
 
 "Ay," said Doe, "that is the doctrine you have been 
 preaching ever since I knowed you ; and you have made a 
 fortun' by it. But as for me, though I've toed the track 
 after your owu leading, I'm jist as poor as ever, and ten 
 times more despisable, — I am, d — n me; for I'm a white 
 Injun, and there's nothing more despisable. But here's 
 the case," he added, working himself into a rage, — "I 
 won't be a rascal for nothing, — I'm sworn to it; and this is 
 a job you must pay for to the full vally, or you're none 
 the better on it." 
 
 "It will make your fortune," said his companion in 
 iniquity; "there was bad luck about us before; but all is 
 now safe — the girl will make us secure." 
 
 "I don't see into it a bit," said Doe, morosely; "you 
 were secure enough without her. The story of the other 
 gal you know of gave you the grab on the lands and 
 vall'ables ; and I don't see what's the good to come of this 
 here other one, no how." 
 
 "Then have you less brains, my Jolly Jack, than I have 
 given you credit for," said the other. "The story you 
 speak of is somewhat too flimsy to serve us long. We 
 must have a better claim to the lands than can come of 
 possession in trust for an heir, not to be produced till we 
 can find the way to Abraham's bosom. We have now ob- 
 tained it; the younker, thanks to your Piankeshaw cut' 
 
290 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 throats, is on the path to Paradise; the girl is left alone, 
 sole claimant, and heiress at law. In a word. Jack, I 
 design to marry her; — -ay, faith, will-she nill-she, I will 
 marry her; and thereby, besides gratifying certain private 
 whims and humors not worth mentioning, I will put the 
 last finish to the scheme, and step into the estate with a 
 clear conscience." 
 
 "But the will, the cussed old will ?" cried Doe. "You've 
 got up a cry about it, and there's them that won't let it 
 drop so easy. What's an heir at law agin a will ! You 
 take the gal back, and the cry is, 'Where's the true gal, 
 the major's daughter?' I reckon, you'll find you've jist 
 got yourself into a trap of your own making !" 
 
 "In that case," said the stranger, with a grin, "we must 
 e'en act like honest men, and find (after much hunting 
 and rummaging, mind you ! ) the major's last will." 
 
 "But you burned it!" exclaimed Doe; "you told me so 
 yourself." 
 
 "I told you so. Jack; but that was a little bit of inno- 
 cent deception, to make you easy. I told you so, but I 
 kept it, to guard against deception; and here it is," added 
 the speaker, drawing from amid the folds of his blankets a 
 roll of parchment, which he proceeded very deliberately to 
 spread upon the table. "The very difficulty you mention 
 occurred to me; I saw it would not do to raise the devil 
 without retaining the power to lay him. Here, then, is the 
 will that settles the affair to your liking. The girl and the 
 younker are co-heirs together; but the latter dying intes- 
 tate, you understand, the whole falls into the lap of the 
 former. Are you easy now, honest Jack ? Will this satisfy 
 you all is safe?" 
 
 "It's jist the thing to an iota," ejaculated Doe, in whom 
 the sight of the parchment seemed to awaken cupidity and 
 exultation together; "there's no standing agin it in any 
 court in Virginnee !" 
 
 "Eight, my boy," said his associate. "But where is the 
 girl? I must see her." 
 
 "In the cabin with Wenonga's squaw, right over agin 
 
NICK 01^ THE VOODS. 291 
 
 the Council-hovise," replied Doe, adding, with animation, 
 'Tjut I'm agin your going nigh her till we settle up accounts 
 jist as honestly as any two sich d — d rascals can. I say, 
 by G — , I must know how the book stands, and how I'm 
 to finger the snacks ; for snacks is the word, or the bargain's 
 no go." 
 
 "Well, we can talk of this on the morrow." 
 
 "To-night's the time," said Doe; "there's nothing like 
 having an honest understanding of matters aforehand. I'm 
 not going to be cheated — ^not meaning no offence in saying 
 so; and I've jist made up my mind to keep the gal out of 
 your way till we've settled things to our liking." 
 
 "Spoken like a sensible rogue," said the stranger, with a 
 voice of all franlmess and approval, but with a lowering 
 look of impatience which Nathan, who had watched the 
 proceedings of the pair with equal amazement and interest, 
 could observe from the chink, though it was concealed from 
 Doe by the position of the speaker, who had risen from his 
 stool, as if to depart, but who now sat down again, to 
 satisfy the fears of his partner in villainy. To this he 
 immediately addressed himself, but in tones lower than 
 before, so that Nathan could no longer distinguish his 
 words. 
 
 But Nathan had heard enough. The conversation, as 
 far as he had distinguished it, chimed strangely in with 
 all his own and Eoland's suspicions; there was, indeed, 
 not a word uttered that did not confirm them. The con- 
 fessions of the stranger, vague and mysterious as they 
 seemed, tallied in all respects with Eoland's account of 
 the villainous designs imputed to the hated Braxley; and 
 it was no little additional proof of his identity that, in 
 addressing Doe, whom he styled throughout as Jack, he had, 
 once at least, called him by the name of Atkinson — a refu- 
 gee whose connection with the conspiracy in Eoland's 
 story Nathan had not forgotten. It was not, indeed, sur- 
 prising that Abel Doe should possess another name, since 
 it was a common practice among renegades like himself, 
 from some sentiment of shame or other obvious reasons^ to 
 
292 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 assume an alias and nom de guerre, under which they ac- 
 quired their notoriety ; the only wonder was, that he should 
 prove to be that person whose agency in the abduction of 
 Edith would, of all other men in the world, go furthest 
 to sustain the belief of Braxley being the principal con- 
 triver of the outrage. 
 
 Such thoughts as these may have wandered through Na- 
 than's mind, but he took little time to con them over. He 
 had made a discovery at that moment of more stirring im- 
 portance and interest. Allowing that Edith Forrester was 
 the prisoner of whom the disguised stranger and his sordid 
 confederate spoke, and there was little reason to doubt it, 
 he had learned, out of their own mouths, the place of her 
 concealment, to discover which was the object of his daring 
 visit to the village. Her prison-house was the wigwam of 
 Wenonga, the chief, if chief he could still be called, whom 
 the displeasure of his tribe had robbed of almost every 
 vestige of authority ; and thither Nathan, to whom the vile 
 bargaining of the white men no longer offered interest, 
 supposing he could even have overheard it, instantly de- 
 termined to make his way. 
 
 But how was Nathan to know the cabin of the chief 
 from the dozen other hovels that surrounded the Council- 
 house? That was a question which perhaps Nathan did 
 not ask himself; for, creeping softly from Doe's hut, and 
 turning into the street (if such could be called the irregular 
 winding space that separated the two lines of cabins com- 
 posing the village), he stole forward, with nothing of the 
 hesitation or doubt which might have been expected from 
 one unfamiliar with the village. 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. S93 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 My brain, more busy than the laboring spider. 
 Weaves tedioua snares to trap mine enemies. 
 
 — Henry VI. 
 
 While Nathan lay watching at the renegade's hut, 
 there came a change over the aspect of the night little less 
 favorable to his plans and hopes than even the discovery 
 of Edith's place of concealment which he had so fortunately 
 made. The sky became suddenly overcast with clouds, 
 and deep darkness invested the Indian village; while 
 gusts of wind, sweeping with a moaning sound over the 
 adjacent hills, and waking the forests from their repose, 
 came rushing over the village, whirring and fluttering 
 aloft like flights of the boding night raven, or the more 
 powerful bird of prey that had given its name to the chief- 
 tain of the tribe. 
 
 In such darkness, and with the murmur of the blasts 
 and the rustling of boughs to drown the noise of his foot- 
 steps, Nathan no longer feared to pursue his way, and, 
 rising boldly to his feet, drawing his blanket close around 
 him, and assuming, as before, the gait of a savage, he 
 strode forwards, and, in less than a minute, was upon the 
 public square — if such we may call it — the vacant area in 
 the centre of the village, where stood the rude shed of bark 
 and boughs, supported by a circular range of posts, all 
 open, except at top, to the weather, which custom had 
 dignified with the title of Council-house. 
 
 The bounds of the square were marked by clusters of 
 cabins placed with happy contempt of order and symmetry, 
 and by trees and bushes that grew among and behind them, 
 particularly at the foot of the hill on one side, and, on 
 the other, along the borders of the river, which, in the 
 pauses of the gusts, could be heard sweeping hard by over 
 a broken and pebbly channel. Patches of bushes might 
 even be seen growing in places on the square itself; and 
 here and there were a few tall trees, remnants of the old 
 
394 iJiCK OF 5^HE WOODS. 
 
 forest which had once overshadowed the scene, towering 
 aloft, and sending forth on the blast such spiritual mur- 
 murs and wild oraculous whispers as were wont, in ancient 
 days, to strike an awe through soothsayers and devotees in 
 the sacred groves of Dodona. 
 
 Through this square, looking solitude and desolation 
 together, lay the path of the spy; and he trod it without 
 fear, although it offered an obstruction that might well 
 have daunted the zeal of one less crafty and determined. 
 In its centre, and near the Council-house, he discovered a 
 fire, now burning low, but still, as the breeze time by time 
 fanned the decaying embers into flame, sending forth light 
 enough to reveal the spectacle of at least a dozen savages 
 stretched in slumber around it, with as many ready rifles 
 stacked roimd a post hard by. 
 
 Their appearance, without affrighting, greatly perplexed 
 the man of peace, who, though at first disposed to regard 
 them as a kind of guard, to whom had been committed the 
 charge of the village and the peace of the community dur- 
 ing the uproar and terrors of the debauch, found reason, 
 upon more mature inspection, to consider them a band from 
 some neighboring village, perhaps an out-going war-party, 
 which, unluckily for himself, had tarried at the village to 
 share the hospitalities and take part in the revels of its 
 inhabitants. Thus there was near the fire a huge heap of 
 dried corn-husks and prairie-grass, designed for a couch — 
 a kind of luxury which Nathan supposed the villagers 
 would have scarce taken the trouble to provide unless for 
 guests, whose warlike pride and sense of honor would not 
 permit them to sleep under cover until they had struck 
 the enemy in his own country, and were returning victori- 
 ous to their own; and, as a proof that they had shared as 
 guests in all the excesses of their hosts, but few of them 
 were seen huddled together on the couch, the majority 
 lying about in such confusion and postures as could only 
 have been produced by the grossest indulgence. 
 
 Pausing a while, but not deterred by the discovery of 
 such undesirable neighbors, Nathan easily avoided them, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 295 
 
 by making the circuit of the square; creeping along from 
 tree to tree, and bush to bush, until he had left the whole 
 group in the rear, and arrived in the vicinity of a cabin, 
 which, from its appearance, might with propriety be sup- 
 posed the dwelling of the most distinguished demagogue 
 of the tribe. It was a cottage of logs, very similar to those 
 of the renegades, who had themselves perhaps built it for 
 the chief, whose favor it was so necessary to purchase by 
 every means in their power; but as it consisted of only a 
 single room, and that by no means spacious, the bar- 
 barian had seen fit to eke it out by a brace of summer apart- 
 ments, being tents of skins, which were pitched at its ends 
 like wings, and perhaps communicated directly with the 
 interior, though each had its own particular door of mats 
 looking out upon the square. 
 
 All these appearances Nathan could easily note, in occa- 
 sional gleams from the fire, which, falling upon the rude 
 and misshapen lodge, revealed its features obscurely to the 
 eye. It bore an air of solitude that became the dwelling 
 of a chief. The soil around it, as if too sacred to be 
 invaded by the profane feet of the multitude, was left 
 overgrown with weeds and starveling bushes; and an an- 
 cient elm, rising among them, and flinging its shadowy 
 branches wide around, stood like a giant watchman, to 
 repel the gaze of the curious. 
 
 This solitude, these bushes, through which he could crawl 
 unobserved, and the shadows of the tree, offering a con- 
 cealment equally effectual and inviting, were all circum- 
 stances in Nathan's favor ; and giving one backward glance 
 to the fire on the square, and then fixing his eyes on one 
 of the tents, in which, as the mat at the door shook in the 
 breeze, he could detect the glimmering of a light, and 
 fancied he could even faintly hear the murmur of voices, 
 he crawled among the bushes, scarcely doubting that he 
 was now within but a few feet of the unhappy maid in 
 whose service he had toiled so long and so well. 
 
 But the path to the wigwam was not yet free from ob- 
 structions, He had scarce pushed aside the first bush in 
 
296 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 his way, opening a vista into the den of leaves -where he 
 looked to find his best concealment, before a flash of light 
 from the fire, darting through the gap, and falling upon a 
 dark grim visage almost within reach of his hand, showed 
 him that he had stumbled unawares upon a sleeping savage, 
 — a man that had evidently staggered there in his drunken- 
 ness, and falling among the bushes, had straightway given 
 himself up to sottish repose. 
 
 For the first time a thrill smote through the bosom of 
 the spy, but it was not wholly a thrill of dismay. There 
 was little indeed in the appearance of the wretched sleeper, 
 at that moment, to inspire terror ; for, apart from the con- 
 dition of the helpless impotence to which his ungovern- 
 able appetites had reduced him, he seemed to be entirely 
 unarmed, — at least ISTathan could see neither knife nor 
 tomahawk about him. But there was that in the grim 
 visage, withered with age and seamed with many a scar, — 
 in the mutilated, but bony and still nervous hand lying 
 on the broad naked chest, — and in the recollections of the 
 past they recalled to Kathan's brain, which awoke a feel- 
 ing not less exciting, if less unworthy, than fear. 
 
 In the first impulse of surprise, it is true, he started 
 backwards, and grovelling flat upon his face, as if to beat 
 an instant retreat in the only posture which could con- 
 ceal him, if the sleeper should have been disturbed by his 
 approach. But the savage slept on, drugged to stupefac- 
 tion by many a deep and potent draught; and JSTathan pre- 
 serving his snake-like position only for a moment, rose 
 slowly upon his hands, and peered over again upon the un- 
 conscious barbarian. 
 
 But the bushes had closed again around him, and the 
 glimmer of the dying fire no longer fell upon the bar- 
 barian. With an audacity of daring that marked the 
 eagerness and intensity of his curiosity, Nathan with his 
 hands pushed the bushes aside, so as again to bring a 
 gleam upon the swarthy countenance; which he perused 
 with such feelings as left him for a time unconscious of 
 the object of his enterprise, unconscious of every thing 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 297 
 
 save the spectacle before him, the embodied representation 
 of features which events of fonner years had painted in 
 indelible hues on his remembrance. 
 
 The face was that of a warrior, worn with years, and 
 covered with such scars as could be boasted only by one of 
 the most distinguished men of the tribe. Deep seams also 
 marked the naked chest of the sleeper ; and there was some- 
 thing in the appearance of his garments of dressed hides, 
 which, though squalid enough, were garnished with multi- 
 tudes of silver broaches and tufts of human hair, with here 
 and there a broad Spanish dollar looped ostentatiously to 
 the skin, to prove he was any thing but a common brave. 
 To each ear was attached a string of silver coins, strung 
 together in regular gradation from the largest to the small- 
 est, — a profusion of wealth which could appertain only to 
 a chief. 
 
 To prove, indeed, that he was no less, there was visible 
 upon his head, secured to the tiara, or glory, as it might 
 be called (for such is its figure) of badgers' hairs, which is 
 so often found woven around the scalp-lock of a north- 
 western Indian, an ornament consisting of the beak and 
 claws of a buzzard, and some dozen or more of its sable 
 feathers. These, as Nathan had previously told the sol- 
 dier, were the distinguishing badges of Wenonga, or the 
 Black Vulture (for so the name is translated) and it was 
 no less a person than Wenonga himself, the oldest, most 
 famous, and at one time the most powerful chief of his 
 tribe, who thus lay, a wretched, squalid sot, before the doors 
 of his own wigwam, which he had been unable to reach. 
 
 Such was Wenonga, such were many of the bravest and 
 most distiaguished of his truly unfortunate race, who 
 exchanged their lands, their fathers' graves, and the lives 
 of their people, for the doubtful celebrity which the white 
 man is so easily disposed to allow them. 
 
 The spy looked upon the face of the Indian ; but there 
 was none at hand to gaze upon his own, to mark the hide- 
 ous frown of hate, and the more hideous grin of delight, 
 that mingled on and distorted his visage, as he gloated, 
 
298 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 snake-like, over that of the chief. As he looked, he drew 
 from its sheath in his girdle his ■well-worn but still bright 
 and keen knife, which he poised in one hand, while feeling 
 with what seemed extraordinary fearlessness or confidence 
 of his prey, with the other along the sleeper's naked breast, 
 as if regardless how soon he might awake. But Wenonga 
 still slept on, though the hand of the white man lay upon 
 his ribs, and rose and fell with the throbs of his warlike 
 heart. The knife took the place of the hand, and one 
 thrust would have driven it through the organ that had 
 never beaten with pity or remorse ; and that thrust Nathan, 
 quivering through every fibre with nameless joy and exul- 
 tation, and forgetful of every thing but his prey, was 
 about to make. He nerved his hand for the blow, but it 
 trembled with eagerness. He paused an instant, and be- 
 fore he could make a second effort, a voice from the wig- 
 wam struck upon his ear, and the strength departed from 
 his arm. 
 
 He staggered back, and awoke to consciousness; the 
 sound was repeated ; it was the wail of a female voice, and 
 its mournful accents, coming to his ear in an interval of 
 the gust, struck a new feeling into his bosom. He remem- 
 bered the captive, and his errand of charity and mercy. 
 He drew a deep and painful breath, and muttering, but 
 within the silent recesses of his breast, "Thee shall not call 
 to me in vain !" buried the knife softly in his sheath. 
 
 Then crawling silently away, and leaving the chief to his 
 slumbers, he crept through the bushes until he had reached 
 the tent from which the mourning voice proceeded. Still 
 lying upon his face, he dragged himself to the door, and 
 looking under the corner of the mat that waved before it in 
 the wind, he saw at a glance that he had reached the goal 
 of his journey. 
 
 The tent was of an oval figure, and of no great extent; 
 but being lighted only by a fire burning dimly in the 
 centre of its earthen floor, and its frail walls darkened by 
 smoke, the eye could scarcely penetrate to its dusky ex- 
 tremity, It consisted, as has been said, of skins, which 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. S99 
 
 were supported upon poles, wattled together like the 
 frame-work of a crate or basket; the poles of the opposite 
 sides being kept asunder by cross pieces, which, at the com- 
 mon centre of intersection or radiation, were themselves 
 xipheld by a stout wooden pillar. Upon this pillar, and 
 on the slender rafters, were laid or suspended sundry 
 Indian utensils of the kitchen and the field, — wooden 
 bowls, earthen pans, and brazen pots, guns, hatchets, and 
 fish-spears, with ears of corn, dried roots, smoked meats, 
 blankets, and skins, and many articles that had perhaps 
 been plundered from the Long-knives, such as halters and 
 bridles, hats, coats, shawls, and aprons, and other such 
 gear; among which was conspicuous a bundle of scalps, 
 some of them with long female tresses, — ^the proofs of the 
 prowess of a great warrior, who, like the other fi.ghting men 
 of his race, accounted the golden ringlets of a girl as noble 
 a trophy of valor as the grizzled locks of a veteran soldier. 
 
 On the fioor of the tent, piled against its sides and fur- 
 thest extremity, was the raised platform of skins, with rude 
 partitions and curtains of mats, which formed the sleep- 
 ing-couch, or, perhaps we might say, the sleeping-apart- 
 ments of the lodge. But these were in a great measure 
 hidden under the heaps of blankets, skins, and other trum- 
 pery articles, that seemed to have been snatched in some 
 sudden hurry from the floor, which they had previously 
 cumbered. In fact, there was every appearance that the 
 tent had been for a long time used as a kind of store-room, 
 the receptacle of a bandit's omnium-gatherum, and had 
 had been hastily prepared for unexpected inmates. 
 
 But these particulars, which he might have noted at a 
 glance, Nathan did not pause to survey. There were ob- 
 jects of greater attraction for his eyes in a group of three 
 female figures; in one of whom, standing near the fire, 
 and grasping the hands and garments of a second, as if 
 imploring pity or protection, her hair dishevelled, her visage 
 bloodless, her eyes wild with grief and terror, he beheld 
 the object of his perilous enterprise, the lovely and unhappy 
 Jldith Forrester, Struggling in her grasp, as if to escape, 
 
300 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 yet weeping, and uttering hurried expressions that were 
 meant to soothe the agitation of the captive, was the 
 renegade's daughter, Telie, who seemed herself litile 
 less terrified than the prisoner. The third person of the 
 group was an Indian beldam, old, withered, and witch-like, 
 who sat crouching oyer the fire, warming her skinny hands, 
 and only intermitting her employment occasionally to eye 
 the more youthful pair with looks of malignant hatred and 
 suspicion. 
 
 The gale was still freshening, and the elm-boughs rustled 
 loudly in the wind ; but Nathan could overhear every word 
 of the captive, as, still grasping Telie by the hand, she 
 besought her, in the language of desperation, "not to leave 
 her, not to desert her at such a moment," while Telie, still 
 shedding tears, which seemed to be equally those of shame 
 and sorrow, entreated her to fear nothing, and permit her 
 to depart. 
 
 "They won't hurt you, — no, my father promised that," 
 she said; "it is the chief's house, and nobody will come 
 nigh to hurt you. You are safe, lady ; but oh ! my father 
 will kill me if he finds me here." 
 
 "It was your father that caused it all !" cried Edith, 
 with a vehement change of feeling; "it was lie that be- 
 trayed us, he that killed, oh ! killed my Eoland ! Go, I 
 hate you ! Heaven will punish you for what you have done ; 
 Heaven will never forgive the treachery and the murder. 
 Go, go; they will kill me, and then all will be well, — ^yes, 
 all will be well !" 
 
 But Telie, thus released, no longer sought to fly. She 
 strove to obtain and kiss the hand that repelled her, sob- 
 bing bitterly, and reiterating her assurances that no harm 
 was designed the maiden. 
 
 "No, no harm ! Do I not know it all !" exclaimed 
 Edith, again giving way to her fears, and grasping Telie's 
 arm. "You are not like your father; if you betrayed me 
 once, you will not betray me again. Stay with me, — ^yes, 
 stay with me, and I'll forgive you — forgive you all. That 
 man, — that dreadful man! I know him well; he will 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 301 
 
 come : — ^he has murdered my cousin, and he is — oh heaven, 
 how bjack a villain! Stay with me. Telle, to protect me 
 from that man; stay with me, and I'll forgive all you have 
 done." 
 
 It was with such wild entreaties Edith, agitated by an 
 excitement that seemed almost to have unsettled her brain, 
 still urged Telle not to abandon her ; while Telle, repeating 
 again and again her protestations that no injury was de- 
 signed or could happen, and that the old woman at the 
 fire was specially deputed to protect her and would do so, 
 begged to be permitted to go, insisting, with every appear- 
 ance of sincere alarm, that her father would kill her if she 
 remained, — that he had forbidden her to come near the 
 prisoner, which, nevertheless, she had secretly done, and 
 would do again, if she could this time avoid discovery. 
 
 But her protestations were of little avail in moving 
 Edith to her purpose; and it was only when the latter, 
 worn oiit by suffering and agitation, and sinking helpless 
 on the couch at her feet, had no longer the power to oppose 
 her, that Telle hurriedly, yet with evident grief and re- 
 luctance, tore herself away. She pressed the captive's 
 hand to her lips, bathed it in her tears, and then with many 
 a backward glance of sorrow, stole from the lodge. 
 
 Nathan crawled aside as she passed out, and watching a 
 moment until she had fled across the square, returned to 
 his place of observation. He looked again into the tent, 
 and his heart smote him with pity as he beheld the wretched 
 Edith sitting in a stupor of despair, her head sunk upon 
 her breast, her hands clasped, her ashy lips quivering, but 
 uttering no articulate sound. "Thee prays heaven to help 
 thee, poor maid!" he muttered to himself; "heaven de- 
 nied the prayer of them that was as good and as lovely; 
 but thee is not yet forsaken !" 
 
 He took his knife from its sheath, and turned his eyes 
 upon the old hag, who sat at the fire with her back partly 
 towards him, but her eyes fastened upon the captive, over 
 whom they wandered with the fierce and unappeasable 
 malice that was in those days seen rankling in the breast 
 
302 NICK or THE WOODS. 
 
 of many an Indian mother, and expended upon prisoners at 
 the stake with a savage, nay, a demoniacal zeal, that might 
 have put warriors to shame. In truth, the unlucky cap- 
 tive had always more to apprehend from the squaws of a 
 tribe than from its warriors ; and their cries for vengeance 
 often gave to the torture wretches whom even their cruel 
 husbands were inclined to spare. 
 
 With knife in hand, and murderous thoughts in his 
 heart, Nathan raised a corner of the mat, and glared for 
 a moment upon the beldam. But the feelings of the white 
 man prevailed, he hesitated, faltered, and dropping the 
 mat in its place, retreated silently from the door. Then 
 restoring his knife for a second time to its sheath, listen- 
 ing awhile to hear if the drunken Wenonga yet stirred in 
 his lair, and taking a survey of the sleepers at the nearly 
 extinguished fire, he crept away, retraced his steps through 
 the village to the place where he had left the captain of 
 horse-thieves, whom — ^to the shame of that worthy be it 
 spoken — ^he found fast locked in the arms of Morpheus, and 
 breathing such a melody from his upturned nostrils as 
 might have roused the whole village from its repose, had 
 not that been at least twice as sound and deep as his own. 
 
 " 'Tarnal death to me !" said he, rubbing his eyes when 
 Nathan shook him from his slumbers, "I war nigh gone in 
 a dead snooze ! — ^being as how I arn't had a true reggelar 
 mouthful of snortin' this h'yar no time, — considering I al- 
 ways took it with my hoptical peepers right open. But I 
 say. Bloody Nathan, what's the last news from the abbre- 
 gynes and anngelliferous madam?" 
 
 "Give me one of thee halters," said Nathan, "and do thee 
 observe now what I have to say to thee." 
 
 "A halter !" cried Ealph, in dudgeon ; "you arn't for do- 
 ing all, and the hoss stealing too ?" 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, "with this halter I must bind 
 one that sits in watch over the maiden ; and, truly, it is 
 better it should be so, seeing that these hands of mine have 
 never been stained with the blood of woman." 
 
 "And you have found my mistress, Qld Bloody?" said 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 303 
 
 Ralph, in a rapture. "Jist call the captain, and let's be a 
 doing!" 
 
 "He's a brave youth, and a youth of mighty heart," said 
 Nathan, 'T3ut this is no work for them that has never seen 
 the ways of an Injun village. Now, friend, does thee hear 
 me? The town is alive with fighting men, and there is a 
 war party of fourteen painted Wyandots sleeping on the 
 Council-square. But don't thee be dismayed thereupon; 
 for truly these assassin creatures is all besotted with drink ; 
 and were there with us but ten stout young men of Ken- 
 tucky, I do truly believe we could knock every murdering 
 dog of 'em on the head, and nobody the wiser. Does thee 
 hear, friend ? Do but thee own part in this endeavor well, 
 and we will save the young and tender maid thee calls 
 madam. Take theeself to the pound, which thee may 
 safely do by following the hill ; pick out four good horses, 
 fleet and strong, and carry them safely away, going up the 
 valley, — ^mind, friend, thee must go up, as if thee was 
 speeding thee way to the Big Lake, instead of to Kentucky ; 
 then, when thee has ridden a mile, thee may cross the brook, 
 and follow the hills till thee has reached the hiding place 
 that we did spy from out upon this village. Thee hears, 
 friend? There thee will find the fair maid Edith; which 
 I will straightway fetch out of her bondage. And, truly, 
 it may be, that I have learned that this night, which will 
 make both her and the young man thee calls captain, which 
 is a brave young man, both rich and happy. And now, 
 friend, thee has heard me, and thee must do thee duty." 
 
 "If I don't fetch her the beautifulest boss that war ever 
 seed in the woods," said Ealph, "thar's no reason, except 
 because the Injuns arn't had good luck this year in grab- 
 bing ! And I'd fetch him round up the holler, jist as you 
 say too, and round about till I strike the snuggery jist the 
 same way; for thar's the way you show judgmatical, and 
 I'm el'ar of your way of thinking. And so now, h'yar's 
 my fo'paw, in token thar's no two ways about me, Ealph 
 Stackpole, a hoss to my friends, and a nigger to them that 
 
304 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 With these words, the two associates, equally zealous in 
 the cause in which they had embarked, parted, each to 
 achieve his own particular share of the adventure, in which 
 they had left so little to be done by the young Virginian. 
 
 But, as it happened, neither Roland's inclination nor 
 fate was favorable to his playing so insignificant a part in 
 the undertaking. He had remained in the place of con- 
 cealment assigned to him, tortured by suspense, and racked 
 by self-reproach, for more than an hour; until, his im- 
 patience getting the better of his judgment, he resolved to 
 creep nigher the village, to ascertain, if possible, the state 
 of affairs. He had arrived within ear-shot of the pair, 
 and without overhearing all, had gathered enough of their 
 conversation to convince him that Edith was at last found, 
 and that the blow was now to be struck for her deliverance. 
 His two associates separated before he could reach them; 
 Ealph plunging among the bushes that covered the hill, 
 while Nathan, as before, stalked boldly into the village. 
 He called softly after the latter to attract his notice; but 
 his voice was lost in the gusts sweeping along the hill, and 
 Nathan proceeded forwards without heeding him. He 
 hesitated a moment whether to follow, or return to his sta- 
 tion, where little Peter, more obedient, or more prudent 
 than himself, still lay, having resolutely refused to stir at 
 the soldier's invitation to accompany him, until finally 
 surrendering his discretion to his anxiety, he resolved to 
 pursue after Nathan, — a measure of imprudence, if not of 
 folly, which at a less exciting moment no one would have 
 been more ready to condemn than himself. But the image 
 of Edith in captivity, and perhaps of Braxley standing by, 
 the master of her fate, was impressed upon his heart as if 
 pricked into it with daggers; and to remain longer at a 
 distance and in inaction was impossible. Imitating Na- 
 than's mode of advance as well as he could, guided by his 
 dusky figure, and hoping soon to overtake him, he pushed 
 forward, and was soon in the dreaded village. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 805 
 
 CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 Thou 
 Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains 
 Thee and the devil alike. 
 
 — Cymbelme. 
 
 In the meanwhile Edith sat in the tent abandoned to 
 despair, her mind not yet recovered from the stunning 
 effect of her calamity, struggling confusedly with images 
 of blood and phantasms of fear, the dreary recollections of 
 the past mingling with the scarce less dreadful anticipa- 
 tions of the future. Of the battle on the hillside she re- 
 membered nothing, save the fall of her kinsman, shot 
 down at her feet — all she had herself witnessed, and all 
 she could believe; for Telle Doe's assurances, contradicted 
 in efEect by her constant tears and agitation, that he had 
 been carried off to captivity like herself, conveyed no con- 
 viction to her mind; from that moment events were pic- 
 tured on her memory as the records of a feverish dream, 
 including all the incidents of her wild and hurried jour- 
 ney to the Indian village. But with these broken and 
 dreamlike reminiscences, there were associated recollections, 
 vague, yet not the less terrifying, of a visage that had 
 haunted her presence by day and night throughout the 
 whole journey, watching over her with the pertinacity of 
 an evil genius; and which, as her faculties woke slowly 
 from their trance, assumed every moment a more distinct 
 and dreaded appearance in her imagination. 
 
 It was upon these hated features, seen side by side with 
 the blood-stained aspect of her kinsman, she now pondered 
 in mingled grief and terror; starting occasionally from 
 the horror of her thoughts only to be driven back to 
 them again by the scowling eyes of the old crone; who, 
 still crouching over the fire, as if the warmth could never 
 strike deep enough into her frozen veins, watched every 
 movement and every look with the vigilance, and, as it 
 seemed, the viciousness of a serpent. No ray of pity shone 
 
SOS Nick 01* i?he -woods. 
 
 even for a moment from her forbidding, and even hideous 
 countenance; she offered no words, she made no signs of 
 sympathy; and, as if to prove her hearty disregard or 
 profound contempt for the prisoner's manifest distress, 
 she by and by, to while the time, began to drone out a 
 succession of grunting sounds, such as make up a red 
 man's melody, and such indeed as any village urchin can 
 drum with his heels out of an empty hogshead. 
 
 The song, thus barbarously chaunted, at first startled 
 and affrighted the captive; but its monotony had at last 
 an effect which the beldam was far from designing. It 
 diverted the maiden's mind in a measure from its own 
 harassing thoughts, and thus introduced a kind of com- 
 posure where all had been before painful agitation. Nay, 
 as the sounds, which were at no time very loud, mingled 
 with the piping of the gale without, and the rustling of the 
 old elm at the door, they lost their harshness, and were 
 softened into a descant that was lulling to the senses, and 
 might, like a gentler nepenthe, have in time cheated the 
 over-weary mind to repose. 
 
 Such, perhaps, was beginning to be its effect. Edith 
 ceased to bend upon the hag the wild, terrified looks that 
 at first rewarded the music; she sunk her head upon her 
 bosom, and sat as if gradually giving way to a lethargy 
 of spirit, which, if not sleep, was sleep's most beneficent 
 substitute. 
 
 Prom this state of calm she was roused by the sudden 
 cessation of the music; and, looking up, she beheld, with 
 a renewal of all her alarm, a tall man, standing before 
 her, his face and figure both enveloped in the folds of a 
 huge blanket, from which, however, a pair of gleaming 
 eyes were seen rivetted upon her countenance. At the 
 same time, she observed that the old Indian woman had 
 risen, and was stealing softly from the apartment. Filled 
 with terror, she would have rushed after the hag to claim 
 her protection; but she was immediately arrested by the 
 visitor, who, seizing her by the arm firmly, yet with an 
 air of respect, and suffering his blanket to drop to the 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 307 
 
 ground, displayed to her gaze features that had long dwelt 
 in darkest fathoms upon her mind. As he seized her, he 
 muttered, and still with an accent of the most earnest re- 
 spect — "Fear me not, Edith ; I am not yet an enemy." 
 
 His voice, though one of gentleness, and even of music, 
 completed the terrors of the captive, who trembled in his 
 hand like a quail in the clutches of a kite, and would, but 
 for his grasp, as powerful to sustain as to oppose, have 
 fallen to the floor. Her lips quivered, but they gave forth 
 no sound; and her eyes were fastened upon his with a 
 wildness and intensity of glare that showed the fascination, 
 the temporary self-abandonment of her spirit. 
 
 "Fear me not, Edith Forrester," he repeated, with a 
 voice even more soothing than before; "you know me; — I 
 am no savage; — I will do you no harm." 
 
 "Yes, — yes, — ^yes," muttered Edith at last, but in the 
 tones of an automaton, they were so broken and inarticu- 
 late, yet so unnaturally calm and unimpassioned — "I know 
 you — yes, yes, I do know you, and know you well. You 
 are Eichard Braxley — the robber, and now the persecutor 
 of the orphan ; and this hand that holds me is red with the 
 blood of my cousin. Oh, villain ! villain ! are you not yet 
 content ?" 
 
 "The prize is not yet won," replied the other, with a 
 smile that seemed intended to express his contempt of the 
 maiden's invectives, and his ability to forgive them: "I 
 am indeed Richard Braxley, the friend of Edith Forrester, 
 though she will not believe it — a rough and self-willed 
 one, it may be, but still her true and unchangeable friend. 
 Where will she look for a better ? Anger has not alienated, 
 contempt has not estranged me; injury and injustice still 
 find me the same. I am still Edith Forrester's friend ; and 
 such, in the sturdiness of my affection, I will remain, 
 whether my fair mistress will or no. But you are feeble 
 and agitated, sit down and listen to me. I have that to 
 say which will convince my thoughtless fair one the day of 
 disdain is now over." 
 
 All these expressions, though uttered with seeming 
 
308 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 blandnesSj were yet accompaHied by an air of decision, 
 and even eommand, as if the speaker were conscious the 
 maiden was fully in his power, and not unwilling she 
 should know it. But his attempt to make her resume her 
 seat upon the pile of skins from which she had so wildly 
 started at his entrance was resisted by Edith, who, gather- 
 ing courage from desperation, and shaking his hand from 
 her arm, as if snatching it from the embraces of a serpent, 
 replied, with even energy — "I wiU not sit down — I will 
 not listen to you. Approach me not — touch me not. You 
 are a villain and a murderer, and I loathe, oh ! unspeakably 
 
 loathe your presence. Away from me, or " 
 
 "Or," interrupted Braxley, with the sneer of a naturally 
 mean and vindictive spirit, "you will cry for assistance! 
 From whom do you expect it ? From wild, murderous, be- 
 sotted Indians, who, if roused from their drunken slum- 
 bers, would be more likely to assail you with their hatchets 
 than to weep for your sorrows? Know, fair Edith, that 
 you are now in their hands; — that there is not one of 
 them who would not rather see those golden tresses hung 
 blackening in the smoke froia the rafters of his wigwam, 
 than floating over the brows they adorn. Look aloft: 
 there are ringlets of the young and fair, the innocent and 
 tender, swinging above you ! Learn, moreover, that from 
 these dangerous friends there is none who can protect you, 
 save me. Ay, my beauteous Edith," he added, as the cap- 
 tive, overcome by the representation of her perils so un- 
 scrupulously, nay, so sternly made, sank almost fainting 
 upon the pile, "it is even so; and you must know it. It 
 is needful you should know what you have to expect if 
 you leave my protection. But that you will not reject; 
 in faith, you cannot! The time has come, as I told you it 
 would, when your disdainful scruples — I speak plainly, 
 fair Edith ! — are to be at an end. I swore to you, and 
 it was when your scorn and unbelief were at the highest — ■ 
 that you should yet smile upon the man you disdained, and 
 smile upon no other. It was a rough and uncouth threat 
 for a lover; but my mistress would have it so. It was a 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS, 309 
 
 vow breathed in anger ; but it was a vow not meant to be 
 broken. You tremble ! I am cruel in my wooing ; but 
 this is not the moment for compliment and deception. You 
 are mine, Edith; I swore it to myself — ay, and to you. 
 You cannot escape. You have driven me to extremities; 
 but they have succeeded. You are mine; or you are — 
 nothing." 
 
 "Nothing let it be," said Edith, over whose mind, prone 
 to agitation and terror, it was evident the fierce and domi- 
 neering temper of the individual could exercise an irre- 
 sistible control, — and who, though yet striving to resist, 
 was visibly sinking before his stem looks and menacing 
 words, — "let it be nothing! Kill me, if you will, as you 
 have already killed my cousin. Oh! mockery of passion, 
 of humanity, of decency, to speak to me thus; — to me, 
 the relative, the more than sister, of him you have so basely 
 and cruelly murdered !" 
 
 "I have murdered no one," said Braxley, with stony 
 composure; "and, if you will but listen patiently, you will 
 find I am stained by no crime save that of loving a woman 
 who forces me to woo her like a master, rather than a 
 slave. Your cousin is living, and in safety." 
 
 "It is false," cried Edith, wringing her hands; "with 
 my own eyes I saw him fall, and fall covered with blood !" 
 
 "And from that moment you saw nothing more," re- 
 joined Braxley. "The blood came from the veins of others ; 
 he was carried away alive, and almost unhurt. He is a 
 captive, — a captive like yourself. And why? Shall I re- 
 mind my fair Edith how much of her hostility and scorn 
 I owed to her hot and foolish kinsman? how he persuaded 
 her the love she so naturally bore so near a relative was 
 reason enough to reject the aifection of a suitor? how im- 
 possible she should listen to the dictates of her own heart, 
 or the calls of her interest, while misled by a counsellor 
 so indiscreet, yet so trusted? Before that unlucky young 
 man stepped between me and my love, Edith Forrester 
 could listen, — nay, and could smile. Nay, deny it, if you 
 will; but hearken. Your cousin is safe; — rely upon that; 
 
310 NICK OF THE :W"OODS. 
 
 but rely he will never again see the home of his birth, o* 
 the kinswoman whose fortunes he has so opposed, until 
 she is the wife of the man he misjudges and hates. He is 
 removed from my path ; it was necessary to my hopes. His 
 life is at all events, safe; his deliverance rests with his 
 kinswoman — when she has plighted her troth, and surely 
 she will plight it." 
 
 "Never ! never !" cried Edith, starting up, her indigna- 
 tion for a moment getting the better of her fears; "with 
 one so false and treacherous, so unprincipled and ungrate- 
 ful, so base and so revengeful — with such a man, with such 
 a villain, never ! no, never !"• 
 
 "I am a villain indeed, Edith," said Braxley, but with 
 exemplary coolness; "all men are so. Good and evil are 
 sown together in our natures, and each has its season and 
 its harvest. In this breast, as in the breast of the worst 
 and the noblest, nature set, at birth, an angel and a devil, 
 either to be the governor of my actions, as either should 
 be best encouraged. If the devil be now at work, and have 
 been for months, it was because your scorn called him from 
 his slumbers. Before that time, Edith, I was under the 
 domination of my angel — who then called, or who deemed 
 me a villain? Was I then a robber and persecutor of the 
 orphan ? Am I now ? Perhaps so ; but it is yourself that 
 have made me so. For you I called up my evil genius to 
 my aid, and my evU genius aided me. He bade me woo 
 no longer like the turtle, but strike like the falcon. 
 Through plots and stratagems, through storms and perils, 
 through battle and blood, I have pursued you, and I have 
 conquered at last. The captive of my sword and my spear, 
 you will spurn my love no longer; for in truth, you can- 
 not. I came to the wilderness to seek an heiress for your 
 uncle's wealth ; I have found her. But she returns for her 
 inheritance the wife of the seeker ! In a word, my Edith 
 — for why should I, who am now the master of your fate, 
 forbear the style of a conqueror ? why should I longer sue, 
 who have the power to command ? you are mine — mine be- 
 yond the influence of caprice or change — mine beyond the 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 311 
 
 hope of escape. This village you will never leave, but as 
 a bride." 
 
 So spoke the bold wooer, elated by the consciousness of 
 successful villainy, and perhaps convinced from long ex- 
 perience of the timorous, and doubtless feeble character oi 
 the maid, that a haughty and overbearing tone would prO' 
 duce an impression, however painful it might be to her, 
 more favorable to his hopes than the soft hypocrisy of suing. 
 He was manifestly resolved to wring from her fears tha 
 consent not to be obtained from her love ; nor had he mis- 
 calculated the power of such a display of bold, unflinching, 
 energetic determination to consummate all his schemes, in 
 awing, if not bending, her youthful spirit. She seemed 
 indeed stunned, wholly overpowered by his resolved and 
 violent manner; and she had scarcely strength to mutter 
 the answer that rose to her lips. 
 
 "If it be so," she faltered out, "this village then I must 
 never leave ; for here I will die, die even by the hands of 
 barbarians, and die a thousand times, ere I look upon you, 
 base and cruel man, with any but the eyes of detestation. 
 I hated you ever — I hate you yet." 
 
 "My fair mistress," said Braxleyj__jwijih,j, sneer, that 
 might _well have become the lip of the devil he had pro- 
 nounced the then ruler of his breast, "knows not all the 
 alternative. Death is a boon the savages may bestow when 
 the whim takes them ; but before that they must show theii' 
 affection for their prisoner. There are many that can ad- 
 mire the bright eyes and ruddy cheeks of the white maiden ; 
 arid some one, doubtless, will admit the stranger to a cor- 
 ner of his wigwam and his bosom ! Ay, madam, I will 
 speak plainly — it is as the wife of Eichard Braxley, or of 
 a pagan savage, you go out of the tent of Wenonga. Or 
 why go out of the tent of Wenonga at all? Is Wenonga 
 insensible to the beauty of his guest? The hag that I 
 drove from the fire seemed already to see in her prisoner the 
 maid that was to rob her of her husband." 
 
 "Heaven help me !" exclaimed Edith, sinking again to 
 her seat, wholly overcome by the horrors it was the object 
 
313 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 of the wooer to accumulate on her mind. He noted the 
 effect of his threat, and, stealing up, he took her trembling, 
 almost lifeless hand, adding, but in a softer voice: — 
 
 "Why will Edith drive one who adores her to these ex- 
 tremities ? Let her smile but as she smiled of yore, and 
 all will yet be well. One smile secures her deliverance from 
 all that she dreads — ^her restoration to her home and to hap- 
 piness. With that smile the angel again awakes in my 
 bosom, and all is love and tenderness !" 
 
 "Heaven help me !" iterated the trembling girl, strug- 
 gling to shake oif Braxley's hand. But she struggled 
 feebly, and in vain; and Braxley, in the audacity of his 
 belief that he had frightened her into a more reasonable 
 mood, proceeded the length of throwing an arm around his 
 almost insensible victim. 
 
 But heaven was not unmindful of the prayer of the 
 desolate and helpless maid. Scarce had his arms encircled 
 the waist of the captive, when a pair of arms, long and 
 brawny, enfolded his body as in the hug of an angry bear, 
 and, in an instant, he lay upon his back on the floor, a 
 knee upon his breast, a hand at his throat, and a knife, 
 glittering blood-red in the light of the fire, flourished 
 within an inch of his eyes; while a voice, subdued to a 
 whisper, yet distinct as if uttered in tones of thunder, 
 muttered in his ears, "Speak, and thee dies !" 
 
 The attack, so wholly unexpected, so sudden, and so vio- 
 lent, was as irresistible as astounding; and Braxley, un- 
 nerved by the surprise and by fear, succumbing as to the 
 stroke of an avenging angel, the protector of innocence, 
 whom his villainy had conjured from the air, lay gasping 
 on the earth without attempting the slighest resistance, 
 while the assailant, dropping his knife and producing a 
 long cord of twisted leather, proceeded, with inexpressible 
 dexterity and speed, to bind his limbs, which he did in a 
 manner none the less effectual for being so hasty. An 
 instant sufficed to secure him hand and foot; in another, 
 a gag was clapped in his mouth and secured by a turn of 
 the rope round his neck ; at the third, the conqueror, thrust- 
 
In an instant Braxley lay upon his back on the floor, a knee 
 upon his breast, a knife at his throat. Page 312. 
 
 Nick of the Woods 
 
NICK OF THE -WOODS. 313 
 
 ing his hand into his bosom, tore from it the stolen will, 
 which he immediately after buried in his own. Then, 
 spurning the baflfled villain into a corner, and flinging over 
 his body a pile of skins and blankets, until he was entirely 
 hidden from sight, he left him to the combined agonies of 
 fear, darkness, and sufEocation. 
 
 Such was the rapidity, indeed, with which the whole 
 affair was conducted, that Braxley had scarce time to catch 
 a glimpse of his assailant's countenance ; and that glimpse, 
 without abating his terror, took but little from his amaze- 
 ment. It was the countenance of an Indian — or such it 
 seemed — grimly and hideously painted over with figures of 
 snakes, lizards, skuUs, and other savages, which were re- 
 peated upon the arms, the half-naked bosom, and even the 
 squalid shirt of the victor. One glance, in the confusion 
 and terror of the moment, Braxley gave to his extraordinary 
 foe; and then the mantles piled upon his body concealed 
 all objects from his eyes. 
 
 In the mean while, Edith, not less confounded, sat 
 cowering with terror, until the victor, having completed 
 his task, sprang to her side — a movement, however, that 
 only increased her dismay — crying with warning gestures, 
 "Fear not and speak not ; up and away !" when, perceiving 
 she recoiled from him with all her feeble strength, and was 
 indeed unable to rise, he caught her in his arms, muttering, 
 "Thee is safe — thee friends is nigh !" and bore her swiftly, 
 yet noiselessly, from the tent. 
 
314 NICK OP THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Pent to linger 
 But with a grain a day, I would not buy 
 Their mercy at the price of one fair word. 
 
 — Coriolanua. 
 
 The night was even darker than before; the fire of the 
 Wyandots on the square had burned so low as no longer 
 to send even a ray to the hut of Wenonga, and the wind, 
 though subsiding, still kept up a sufficient din to drown 
 the ordinary sound of footsteps. Under such favorable 
 circumstances, Nathan (for, as may be supposed, it was 
 this faithful friend who had snatched the forlorn Edith 
 from the grasp of the betrayer) stalked boldly from the 
 hut, bearing the rescued maiden in his arms, and little 
 doubting that, having thus so successfully accomplished 
 the first and the greatest step in the enterprise, he could 
 now conclude it in safety, if not with ease. 
 
 But there were perils yet to be encountered which the 
 man of peace had not taken into anticipation, and which, 
 indeed, would not have existed, had his foreboding doubts 
 of the propriety of admitting either of his associates, and 
 honest Stackpole especially, to a share of the exploit, been 
 suffered to influence his counsels to the exclusion of that 
 worthy but unlucky personage altogether. He had scarce 
 stepped from the tent-door before there arose on the sud- 
 den, and at no great distance from the square over which 
 he was hurrying his precious burthen, a horrible din — a 
 stamping, snorting, galloping, and neighing of horses, as 
 if a dozen famished bears or wolves had suddenly made 
 their way into the Indian pinfold, carrying death and 
 distraction into the whole herd. And this alarming omen 
 was almost instantly followed by an increase of all the up- 
 roar, as if the animals had broken loose from the pound, 
 and were rushing, mad with terror, towards the centre of 
 the village. 
 
 At the first outbreak of the tumult, Nathan had dropped 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 315 
 
 immediately into the bushes before the wigwam; but per- 
 ceiving that the sounds increased, and were actually draw- 
 ing nigh, and that the sleepers were waking on the square, 
 he sprang again to his feet, and, flinging his blanket 
 around Edith, who was yet incapable of aiding herself, 
 resolved to make a bold effort to escape while darkness and 
 the confusion of the enemy permitted. There was, in 
 truth, not a moment to be lost. The slumbers of the bar- 
 barians, proverbially light at aU times, and readily broken, 
 even when the stupor of drunkenness has steeped their 
 faculties, were not proof against sounds at once so unusual 
 and so uproarious. A sudden yell of surprise, bursting 
 from one point, was echoed by another and another voice, 
 and in a moment the square resounded with these signals 
 of alarm, added to the wilder screams which some of them 
 set up, of 'TLiong-knives ! long-knives!" as if the savages 
 supposed themselves suddenly beset by a whole army of 
 charging Kentuckians. 
 
 It was at this moment of dismay and confusion that 
 Nathan rose from the earth, and, all other paths being 
 now cut off, darted across a corner of the square towards 
 the river, which was in a quarter opposite to that whence 
 the sounds came, in hopes to reach the alder-thicket on its 
 banks before being observed. And this, perhaps, he would 
 have succeeded in reaching, had not fortune, which seemed 
 this night to give a loose rein to all her fickleness, prepared 
 a new and greater difficulty. 
 
 As he rose from the bushes, some savage, possessed of 
 greater presence of mind than his fellows, cast a decaying 
 brand from the fire into the heap of dried grass and maize- 
 husks, designed for their couches, which, bursting imme- 
 diately into a furious flame, illuminated the whole square 
 and village, and revealed, as it was designed to do, the 
 cause of the wondrous uproar. A dozen or more horses 
 were instantly seen galloping into the square, followed by 
 a larger and denser herd behind, all agitated by terror, all 
 plunging, rearing, prancing, and kicking, as if possessed 
 by a legion of evil spirits, though driven, as was made 
 
316 NICK OF THE iWOODS, 
 
 apparent by the yells which the Indians set up on seeing 
 him, by nothing more than the agency of a human being. 
 
 At the first flash of the flames seizing upon the huge 
 bed of straw, and whirling up in the gust in a prodigious 
 volume, Nathan gave up all for lost, not doubting that he 
 would be instantly seen and assailed. But the spectacle 
 of their horses dashing madly into the square, with the 
 cause of the tumult seen struggling among them, in the 
 apparition of a white man sitting aloft entangled inextric- 
 ably in the thickest of the herd, and evidently borne for- 
 ward with no consent of his own, was metal more attrac- 
 tive for Indian eyes; and Nathan perceived that he was 
 not only neglected in the confusion by all, but was likely to 
 Remain so long enough to enable him to put the thicket be- 
 twixt him and the danger of discovery. 
 
 "The knave has endangered us, and to the value of the 
 scalp on his own foolish head," muttered Nathan, his indig- 
 nation speaking in a voice louder than a whisper: 'T)ut, 
 truly, he will pay the price; and, truly, his loss is the 
 maiden's redeeming !" 
 
 He darted forwards as he spoke; but his words had 
 reached the ears of one, who, cowering like himself among 
 the weeds around Wenonga's hut, now started suddenly 
 forth, and displayed to his eyes the young Virginian, who, 
 rushing eagerly up, clasped the rescued captive in his arms, 
 crying, — "Forward now, for the love of heaven! forward, 
 forward I" 
 
 "Thee has ruined all!" cried Nathan, with bitter re- 
 proach, as Edith, rousing from insensibility at the well- 
 known voice, opened her eyes upon her kinsman, and all 
 unmindful of the place of meeting, unconscious of every 
 thing but his presence, — the presence of him whose sup- 
 posed death she had so long lamented, — sprang to his em- 
 brace with a cry of joy that was heard over the whole 
 square, a tone of happiness, pealing above the rush of the 
 winds and the uproar of men and animals. "Thee has 
 ruined all ! — ^theeself and the maid ! Save thee own life." 
 
 With these words, Nathan strove to tear Edith from his 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 317 
 
 grasp, to make one more effort for her rescue ; and Eoland, 
 yielding her to his superior strength, and perceiving that a 
 dozen Indians were running against them, drew his toma- 
 hawk, and, with a self-devotion which marked his love, his 
 consciousness of error, and his heroism of character, waved 
 Nathan away, while he himself rushed back upon the pur- 
 suers, not so much, however, in the vain hope of disputing 
 the path, as, by laying down his life on the spot, to pur- 
 chase one more hope of escape to his Edith. 
 
 The act, so unexpectedly, so audaciously bold, drew a 
 shout of admiration from the throats which had before 
 only uttered yells of fury; but it was mingled with fierce 
 laughter, as the savages, without hesitating at, or indeed 
 seeming at all to regard, his menacing position, ran upon 
 him in a body, and avoiding the only blow they gave him 
 the power to make, seized and disarmed him — a result that, 
 notwithstanding his fierce and furious struggles, was ef- 
 fected in less space than we have taken to describe it. 
 Then leaving him in the hands of two of their number, 
 who proceeded to bind him securely, the others rushed after 
 Nathan, who, though encumbered by his burthen, again 
 inanimate, her arms clasped around his neck, as they had 
 been round that of her kinsman, made the most desperate 
 exertions to be off, seeming to regard her weight no more 
 than if the burthen had been a cushion of thistle-down. 
 He ran for a moment with astonishing activity, leaping 
 over bush and gully, where such crossed his path, with 
 such prodigious strength and suppleness of frame, as to the 
 savages appeared; little short of miraculous ; and it is more 
 than probable he might have effected his escape had he 
 chosen to abandon the helpless Edith. As it was, he for 
 a time bade fair to make his retreat good. He reached 
 the low thicket that fringed the river, and one more step 
 would have found him in at least temporary security. 
 
 But that step was never to be taken. As he ap- 
 proached, two tall barbarians suddenly sprang from the 
 cover, where they had been taking their drunken slum- 
 bers; and responding with exulting whoops to the cries 
 
318 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 of the others, they leaped forward to secure him. But he 
 turned aside, running downwards to where a lonely wig- 
 wam, surrounded by trees, ofEered the concealment of its 
 shadow. But he turned too late ! a dozen fierce wolf-like 
 dogs, rushing from the cabin, and emboldened by the cries 
 of the pursuers, rushed upon him, hanging to his skirts, 
 and entangled his legs, rending and tearing all the while, 
 so that he could fly no longer. The Indians were at his 
 heels; their shouts were in his ears; their hands were 
 almost upon his shoulders, he stopped, and turning towards 
 them, with a gesture and look of desperate defiance, and 
 still more desperate hatred, exclaimed — "Here, devils ! cut 
 and hack ! your time has come, and I am the last of them !" 
 And holding Edith at the length of his arm, he pulled open 
 his garment, as if to invite the death-stroke. 
 
 But his death, at least at that moment, was not sought 
 after by the Indians. They seized him, and, Edith being 
 torn from his hands, dragged him, with endless whoops, 
 towards the fire, whither they had previously borne the cap- 
 tured Koland, over whom, as over himself, they yelled 
 their triumph; while screams of rage from those who had 
 dashed among the horses after the daring white man, who 
 had been seen among them, and the confusion that still 
 prevailed, showed that he also had fallen into their hands. 
 
 The words of defiance which Nathan breathed at the 
 moment of yielding were the last he uttered. Submitting 
 passively to his fate, he was dragged onwards by a dozen 
 hands, a dozen voices around him vociferating their sur- 
 prise at his appearance even more energetically than the 
 joy of their triumph. His Indian habiliments and painted 
 body evidently struck them with astonishment, which in- 
 creased as they drew nearer the fire, and could better dis- 
 tinguish the extraordinary devices he had traced so care- 
 fully on his breast and visage. Their looks of inquiry, 
 their questions, jabbered freely in broken English as well 
 as in their own tongue, Nathan regarded no more than 
 their taunts and menaces, replying to these, as to all, only 
 with a wild and haggard stare, which seemed to awe several 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 319 
 
 of the younger warriors, who began to exchange looks of 
 peculiar meaning. At last, as they drew nearer the fire, 
 an old Indian staggered among the group, who made way 
 for him with a kind of respect, as was, indeed, his due — 
 for he was no other than the old Black Vulture himself. 
 Limping up to the prisoner, with as much ferocity as his 
 drunkenness would permit, he laid one hand upon his 
 shoulder, and with the other aimed a furious hatchet-blow 
 at his head. The blow was arrested by the renegade. Doe, 
 or Atkinson, who made his appearance at the same time 
 with Wenonga, and muttered some words in the Shawnee 
 tongue, which seemed meant to soothe the old man's fury. 
 
 "Me In]un-man!" said the chief, addressing his words 
 to the prisoner, and therefore in the prisoner's language — 
 *Me kill all white man! Me Wenonga; me drink white 
 man blood! me no heart!" 
 
 And to impress the truth of his words on the prisoner's 
 mind, he laid his right hand, from which the axe had been 
 removed, as well as his left, on Nathan's shoulder, in which 
 position supporting himself, he nodded and wagged his 
 head in the other's face, with as savage a look of malice as 
 he could infuse into his drunken features. To this the 
 prisoner replied by bending upon the chief a look more 
 hideous than his own, and indeed so strangely unnatural 
 and revolting, with lips so retracted, features so distorted 
 by some nameless passion, and eyes gleaming with fires so 
 wild and unearthly, that even Wenonga, chief as he was, 
 and then in no condition to be daunted by any thing, drew 
 slowly back, removing his hands from the prisoner's shoul- 
 der, who immediately fell down in horrible convulsions, 
 the foam flying from his lips, and his fingers clenching 
 like spikes of iron into the flesh of two Indians that had 
 hold of him. 
 
 Taunts, questions, and whoops were heard no more 
 among the captors, who drew aside from their wretched 
 prisoner, as if from the darkest of their Manitoes, all look- 
 ing on with unconcealed wonder and awe. The only per- 
 son, indeed, who seemed undismayed at the spectacle, was 
 
330 NICK OP THE WOODS, 
 
 the renegade, who, as Nathan shook and writhed in the fit, 
 beheld the corner of a piece of parchment projecting from 
 the bosom of his shirt, and looking vastly like that identical 
 instrument he had seen but an hour or two before in the 
 hands of Braxley. Stooping down, and making as if he 
 would have raised the convulsed man in his arms, he drew 
 the parchment from its hiding place, and, unobserved by 
 the Indians, transferred it to a secret place in his own 
 garments. He then rose up, and stood like the rest, look- 
 ing upon the prisoner, until the fit had passed ofE, which 
 it did in but a few moments, Nathan starting to his feet, 
 and looking around him in the greatest wildness, as if, 
 for a moment, not only unconscious of what had befallen 
 him, but even of his captivity. 
 
 But unconsciousness of the latter calamity was of no 
 great duration, and was dispelled by the old chief sapng, 
 but with looks of drunken respect, that had succeeded his 
 insane fury — "My brudder great medicine white-man ! great 
 white man medicine ! Me Wenonga, great Injun captain, 
 great kill-man-white-man, kill-all-man, man-man, squaw- 
 man, little papoose-man ! Me make medicine-man brudder 
 man ! Medicine-man tell Wenonga all Jibbenainosay ? 
 — where find Jibbenainosay? how kill Jibbenainosay? kill 
 white-man's devil-man ! Medicine-man tell Injun-man 
 why medicine-man come Injun town? steal Injun pris- 
 oner? steal Injun boss? Me Wenonga — me good brudder 
 medicine-man." 
 
 This gibberish, with which he seemed, besides express- 
 ing much new-born good-will, to intimate that its cause 
 lay in the belief that the prisoner was a great white con- 
 jurer, who could help him to a solution of sundry interest- 
 ing questions, the old chief pronounced with much solemn- 
 ity and suavity; and he betrayed an inclination to continue 
 it, the captors of Nathan standing by and looking on with 
 vast and eager interest. 
 
 But a sudden and startling yell from the Indians who 
 had charge of the young Virginian, preceded by an ex- 
 clamation from the renegade who had stolen among them, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 331' 
 
 upset the curiosity of the party — or rather substituted a 
 new object for admiration, which set them all running to- 
 wards the fire, where Roland lay bound. The cause of the 
 excitement was nothing less than the discovery which Doe 
 had just made, of the identity of the prisoner with Roland 
 Forrester, whom he had with his own hands delivered into 
 those of the merciless Piankeshaws, and whose escape from 
 them, and sudden appearance in the Shawnee village, were 
 events just as wonderful to the savages as the supposed 
 powers of the white medicine-man, his associate. 
 
 But there was still a third prodigy to be wondered at. 
 The third prisoner was dragged from among the horses to 
 the fire, where he was almost immediately recognized by 
 half-a-dozen different warriors, as the redoubted and in- 
 corrigible horse-thief Captain Stackpole. The wonderful 
 conjurer, and the wonderful young Long-knife, who was 
 one moment a captive in the hands of Piankeshaws on 
 the banks of the Wabash, and the next an invader of a 
 Shawnee village in the valley of the Miami, were both for- 
 gotten ; the captain of horse-thieves was a much more won- 
 derful person, or, at the least, a much more important prize. 
 His name was howled aloud, and in a moment became the 
 theme of every tongue ; and he was instantly surrounded by 
 every man in the village — ^we may say, every woman and 
 child, too, for the alarm had brought the whole village 
 into the square; and the shrieks of triumph, the yells of 
 unfeigned delight with which all welcomed a prisoner so 
 renowned and so detested, produced an uproar ten times 
 greater than that which gave the alarm. 
 
 It was indeed Stackpole, the zealous and unlucky slave 
 of a mistress, whom it was his fate to injure and wrong in 
 every attempt he made to serve her; and who had brought 
 himself and his associates to their present bonds by merely 
 tolling on the present occasion too hard in her service. 
 It seems — for so he was used himself to tell the tale — 
 that he entered the Indian pound with the resolution to 
 fulfil Bloody Nathan's instructions to the letter; and he 
 accordingly selected four of the best animals of the herd, 
 
322 NICK OF THE WOODS, 
 
 which he succeeded in haltering without difficulty or noise. 
 Had he paused here, he might have retreated with his 
 prizes without fear of discovery. But the excellence of 
 the opportunity — the best he had ever had in his life — the 
 excellence, too, of the horses, thirty or forty in number, 
 "the primest and beautifullest critturs," he averred, "what 
 war ever seed in a hoss-pound," with a notion which now 
 suddenly beset his grateful brain, namely, that by carrying ^ 
 off the whole herd he could "make anngelliferous madam 
 rich in the item of hoss-flesh," proved too much for his 
 philosophy and his judgment ; and after holding a council 
 of war in his own mind, he came to a resolution "to steal 
 the lot." 
 
 This being determined upon, he imitated the example of 
 magnanimity lately set him by Nathan, stripped off and 
 converted his venerable wrap-rascal into extemporary hal- 
 ters, and so made sure of half-a-dozen more of the best 
 horses ; with which, and the four first selected, not doubting 
 that the remainder of the herd would readily follow at their 
 heels, he crept from the fold, to make his way up the val- 
 ley, and round among the hills, to the rendezvous. But 
 that was a direction in which, as he soon learned to his 
 cost, neither the horses he had in hand, nor those that 
 were to follow in freedom, had the slightest inclination to 
 go; and there immediately ensued a struggle between the 
 stealer and the stolen, which, in the space of a minute or 
 less, resulted in the whole herd making a demonstration 
 towards the centre of the village, whither they succeeded 
 both in carrying themselves and the vainly resisting horse- 
 thief, who was borne along on the backs of those he had 
 haltered, like a land-bird on the bosom of a torrent, inca- 
 pable alike of resisting or escaping the flood. 
 
 In this manner, he was taken in a trap of his own mak- 
 ing, as many a better and wiser man of the world has been, 
 and daily is; and it was no amelioration of his distress to 
 think he had whelmed his associates in his ruin, and de- 
 feated the best and last hopes of his benefactress. It was 
 with such feelings at his heart that he was dragged up to 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 323 
 
 the fire, to be exulted over and scolded at as long as it 
 should seem good to his captors. But the latter, exhausted 
 by the day's revels, and satisfied with their victory, so com- 
 plete and so bloodless, soon gave over tormenting him, 
 resolving, however, that he should be soundly beaten at 
 the gantelope on the morrow, for the especial gratification, 
 and in honor of the Wyandot party, their guests. 
 
 This resolution being made, he was, like Eoland and 
 Nathan, led away bound, each being bestowed in a different 
 hut, where they were committed to safer guards than had 
 been appointed to watch over Edith ; and, in an hour after, 
 the village was again wrapped in repose. The last to be- 
 take themselves to their rest were Doe, and his confederate, 
 Braxley, the latter of whom had been released from his dis- 
 agreable bonds when Edith was carried back to the tent. 
 It was while following Doe to his cabin, that he discovered 
 the loss of the precious document, upon the possession of 
 which he had built so many stratagems and so many hopes 
 of success. His agitation and confusion were so great at 
 the time of Nathan's assault, that he was wholly unaware 
 it had been taken from him by this assailant ; and Doe, to 
 whom its possession opened newer and bolder prospects, and 
 who had already formed a design for using it to his own 
 advantage, affected to believe that he had dropped it on 
 the way, and would easily recover it on the morrow, as no 
 Indian could possibly attach the least value to it. 
 
 Another subject of agitation to Braxley was the re-ap- 
 pearance of his rival; who, however. Doe assured him, was 
 "now as certainly a dead man as if twenty bullets had been 
 driven through his body. He is in the hands of the Old 
 Vulture," said he grimly, "and he will burn in fire jist as 
 sure as we will, Dick Braxley, when the devil gits us! — 
 that is, unless we ourselves save him." 
 
 "We, Jack !" said the other with a laugh ; "and yet who 
 knows how the wind may blow you? But an hour ago 
 you were as remorseful over the lad's supposed death, as 
 you are now apparently indifferent what befalls him." 
 
 "It is true," replied DoCj coolly ; "but see the difference ! 
 
324 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 When the Piankeshaws were burning him — or when I 
 thought the dogs were at it — it was a death of my making 
 for him ; it was I that helped him to the stake. But here 
 the case is altered. He comes here on his own hook; the 
 Injuns catch him on his own hook ; and, d — n them ! 
 they'll burn him on his own hook! and so ifs no matter 
 of my consarning. There's the root of it." 
 
 This explanation satisfied his suspicious ally ; and having 
 conversed awhile longer on what appeared to them most 
 wonderful and interesting in the singular attempt at the 
 rescue, the two retired to their repose. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXII. 
 
 Let him call me rogue for being so far officious; for I am 
 proof against that title, and what shame else belongs to it. 
 
 — Winter's Tale. 
 
 The following day was one of unusual animation and 
 bustle in the Indian village, as the prisoners could dis- 
 tinguish even from their several places of confinement, 
 without, however, being sensible of the cause. From sun- 
 rise until after midday, they heard, at intervals, volleys of 
 fire-arms shot off at the skirts of the town, which, being 
 followed by shrill halloos as from those that fired them, 
 were immediately re-echoed by all the throats in the vil- 
 lage — men, women, children, and dogs uniting in a clamor 
 that was plainly the outpouring of savage exultation and 
 delight. It seemed as if parties of warriors, returning 
 victorious from the lands of the Long-knife, were time by 
 time marching into, and through the village, proclaiming 
 the success of their arms, and exhibiting the bloody trophies 
 of their triumph. The hubbub increased, the shouts be- 
 came more frequent and multitudinous, and the village for 
 a second time seemed given up to the wildest and maddest 
 revelry, to the sway of unchained demons, or of men aban- 
 doned to all the horrible impulses of lycanthropy. 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 3^5 
 
 During all this time, the young Virginian lay bound in 
 a wigwam, guarded by a brace of old warriors, who occa- 
 sionally varied the tedium of watching by stalking to the 
 door, where, like yelping curs paying their respects to 
 passers-by, they uplifted their voices, and vented a yell or 
 two in testimony of their approbation of what was going 
 « on without. Now and then, also, they even left the wig- 
 wam, but never for more than a few moments at a time; 
 when, having thus amused themselves, they would return, 
 squat themselves down by the prisoner's side, and proceed 
 to entertain him with sundry long-winded speeches in 
 their own dialect, of which, of course, he understood not 
 a word. 
 
 Wrapped in his own bitter thoughts, baffled in his last 
 hope, and now grown indifferent what might befall him, he 
 lay upon the earthen floor during the whole day, expect- 
 ing almost every moment to behold some of the shouting 
 crew of the village rush into the hovel and drag him to the 
 tortures, which, at that period, were so often the doom of 
 the prisoner. 
 
 But the solitude of his prison-house was invaded only by 
 his two old jailers; and it was not until nightfall that he 
 beheld a third human countenance. At that period Telle 
 Doe stole trembling into the hut, bringing him food, which 
 she set before him, but with looks of deep grief and deeper 
 abasement, which he might have attributed to shame and 
 remorse for a part played in the scheme of captivity, had 
 not all her actions shown that, although acquainted with 
 the meditated outrage, she was sincerely desirous to avert 
 it. 
 
 Her appearance awakened his dormant spirits, and re- 
 called the memory of his kinswoman, of whom he besought 
 her to speak, though well aware she could speak neither 
 hope nor comfort. But scarce had Telle, more abashed 
 and more sorrowful at the question, opened her lips to 
 reply, when one of the old Indians interposed with a 
 frown of displeasure, and taking her by the arm, led her 
 angrily to the door, where he waved her away, with ges- 
 
326 NICK 0^ THE WOODS. 
 
 tures that seemed to threaten a worse reception should she 
 presume to return. 
 
 Thus thwarted and driven back again upon his own 
 reflections, Eoland gave himself up to despondency, await- 
 ing with sullen indifference the fate which he had no doubt 
 was preparing for him. But he was doomed once more 
 to experience the agitations of hope, the tormentor not less 
 than the soother of existence — the 
 
 "Brother of Fear, more gayly clad, 
 The merrier fool o' th' two yet quite as mad." 
 
 Soon after nightfall, and when his mind was in a con- 
 dition resembling the hovel in which he lay — a cheerless 
 ruin, lighted only by occasional flickerings from a fire of 
 spirit fast smouldering into ashes — he heard a step enter 
 the door, and by and by a Jabbering debate commenced be- 
 tween the new comer and his guards, which resulted in 
 the latter presently leaving the cabin. The intruder then 
 stepped up to the fire, which he stirred into a flame ; and 
 seating himself full in its light, revealed, somewhat to 
 Eoland's surprise, the form and visage of the renegade, 
 Abel Doe, whose acts on the hillside had sufficiently im- 
 pressed his lineaments on the soldier's memory. He eyed 
 the captive for awhile very earnestly, but in deep silence, 
 which Eoland himself was the first to break. 
 
 To the soldier, however, bent upon preserving the sullen 
 equanimity which was his best substitute for resignation, 
 there was enough in the appearance of this man to excite 
 the fiercest emotions of indignation. Others might have 
 planned the villainy which had brought ruin and misery 
 upon his head; but it was Doe who, for the bravo's price, 
 and with the bravo's baseness, had set the toils around him, 
 and struck the blow. It was, indeed, only through the 
 agency of such an accomplice that Braxley could have put 
 his schemes into execution, or ventured even to attempt 
 them. The blood boiled in his veins, as he surveyed the 
 mercenary and unprincipled hireling, and strove, though 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 327 
 
 in vain, to rise upon his fettered arms, to give energy to 
 his words of denunciation: — 
 
 "Villain !" he cried, "base caitiff ! have you come to boast 
 the fruits of your rascally crime? Mean, wretched, das- 
 tardly villain !" 
 
 "Eight, captain!" replied Doe, with a consenting nod 
 of the head, "you have nicked me on the right p'int; 
 villain's the true word to begin on; and, perhaps, 'twill 
 be the one to end on ; but that's as we shall conclude about 
 it, after we have talked the matter over." 
 
 "Begone, wretch — ^trouble me not," said Eoland, "I 
 have nothing to say to you, but to curse you." 
 
 "Well, I reckon that's natteral enough, too, that cussing 
 of me," said Doe, "seeing as how I've in a manner de- 
 sarved it. But there's an end to all things, even to cuss- 
 ing; and may be, you'll jist take a jump the other way, 
 when the gall's over. A friend to-day, an enemy to-mor- 
 row, as the saying is ; and you may just as well say it back- 
 wards; for, as things turn up, I'm no sich blasted enemy 
 just now, no-way no-how. I'm for holding a peace-talk, as 
 the Injuns say,d — ^n 'em, burying the axe, and taking a whiff 
 or two at the kinnikinick of friendship. So cuss away, if 
 it will do you good; and I'll stand it. But as for being 
 off, why I don't mean it no-way. I've got a bargain to 
 strike with you,, and it is jist a matter to take the tiger- 
 cat out of you — it is, d — n it; and when you've heard it, 
 you'll be in no sich hurry to get rid of me. But afore we 
 begin, I've jist got a matter to ax you; and that is — how 
 the h — you cleared the old Piankeshaw and his young 
 uns?" 
 
 "If you have any thing to propose to me," said Eoland, 
 smothering his wrath as well as he could, though scarcely 
 hoping assistance or comfort of any kind from the man who 
 had done him such injury, "propose it and be brief, and 
 trouble me with no questions." 
 
 "Well now," said Doe, "a civil question might as well 
 have a civil answer ! If you killed the old feller and the 
 young uns, you needn't be ashamed of it; for, cuss me, I 
 
328 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 think all the better of you for it; for it's not every feller 
 can kill three Injuns that has him in the tugs, by no means, 
 no-how. But, I reckon, the ramseallions took to the liquor 
 (Injuns will be Injuns, there is no two ways about it!) 
 and you riz on 'em, and so payed 'em up scot and lot, ac- 
 cording to their desarvings? You couldn't have done a 
 better thing to make me beholden ; for, you see, I had the 
 giving of you up to 'em, and I felt bad — I did, d — n me, 
 for I knew the butchers would bum you if they got you to 
 the Wabash; — I did, captain, and I had bad thoughts 
 about it. But it was a cussed mad notion of you, follow- 
 ing us, it was, there's no denying ! Howsomever, I won't 
 talk of that. I jist want to ax you where you picked up 
 that Injun-looking feller that was lugging off the gal, and 
 what's his natur'? The Injuns say, he's a conjurer; now 
 I never heerd of conjurors among the whites, like among 
 the Injuns, afore I cut loose from 'em, and I'm cur'ous on 
 the subject! I jist ax you a civil question, and I don't 
 mean no harm in it. There's nobody can make the feller 
 out; and, as for Ealph Stackpole, blast him, he says he 
 never seed the crittur afore in his life !" 
 
 "If you would have me answer your question," said Eo- 
 land, in whom Doe's discourse was beginning to stir up 
 many a former feeling, "you must first answer mine. This 
 person you speak of — what is to be his fate?" 
 
 "Why, burning, I reckon; but thafs according as he 
 pleases the old Vulture ; for, if he can find out what never 
 an Injun medicine has been able to do, it may be the old 
 chief will feed him up, and make him his conjurer. They- 
 say, he's conjuring with the crittur now." 
 
 "And Stackpole — ^what will they do with him?" 
 
 "Burn him, sartain ! They're jist waiting till the war- 
 riors come in from the Licking, where, you must know, 
 they have taken a hundred scalps, or so, at one grab ; and 
 then the feller will roast beyond all mention." 
 
 "And I, too," said the Virginian, with such calmness as 
 he could, — "I, too, am to meet the same fate?" 
 
 "Most ondoubtedly," said Doe, with an ominous nod of 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 339 
 
 assent. "There's them among us that speajc well of you, 
 as having heart enough to made an Injun ; but there's them 
 that have sworn you shall burn; and bum you must! — 
 
 That is, onless " But he was interrupted by Koland 
 
 exclaiming hurriedly : — 
 
 "There is but one more to speak of — ^my cousin? my 
 poor, friendless cousin?" 
 
 "There," said Doe, "you needn't be afeard of burning, 
 by no means whatsomever. We didn't catch the gal to 
 make a roast of. She is safe enough ; there's one that will 
 care take of her." 
 
 "And that one is the villain Braxley! Oh, knave that 
 you are, could you have the heart, — ^you have a daughter of 
 your own — could you have committed her into the arms 
 of such a villain?" 
 
 "No, by G — , I couldn't !" said Doe, with great earnest- 
 ness; "but another man's daughter is quite another thing. 
 Howsomever, you needn't take on for nothing; for he 
 means to marry her and take her safe back to Virginny; 
 and, you see, I bargained with him agin all rascality; for 
 I had a gal of my own, and I couldn't think of his playing 
 foul with the poor crittur. No ; we had an understanding 
 about all that when we was waiting for you on old Salt. 
 All Dick wants is jist a wife that will help him to them 
 lands of the old major. And that, you see, is jist the whole 
 reason of our making the grab on you." 
 
 "You confess it then!" cried Koland, too much excited* 
 by the bitterest of passions to be surprised at the singular 
 communicativeness of his visitor; "you sold yourself to 
 the villain for gold ! for gold you hesitated not to sacrifice 
 the happiness of one victim of his passions, the life of 
 another! Oh, basest of all that bear the name of man, 
 how could you do this villainy ?" 
 
 "Because," replied Doe, with as much apparent sincerity 
 as emphasis, — "because I am a d — d rascal; — there's no 
 sort of doubt about it ; and we won't be tender, the way we 
 talk of it. I was an honest man once, captain, but I am 
 a rascal now ; — warp and woof^ skin-deep and heart deep — ■ 
 
330 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 ay, to the bones and the marrow — I am all the way a rascal ! 
 But don't look as if you was astonished already. I come 
 to make a clean breast of all sorts of matters, — jist, captain, 
 for a little bit of your advantage and my own ; and there's 
 things coming that will make you look a leetle of a sight 
 wilder ! And, first and foremost, to begin — ^have you any 
 particular longing to be out of this here Injun town, and 
 well shut of the d — d fire torture?" 
 
 "Have I any desire to be free ! Mad question !" 
 
 "Well, captain, I'm jist the man, and the only one that 
 can help you; for them that would, can't, and them that 
 can, won't. And, secondly and lastly, captain, — as the 
 parsons say in the settlements — ^have you any hankering to 
 be the master of the old major your uncle's lands and 
 houses ?" 
 
 "If you come to mock and torture me," said Koland — 
 but was interrupted by the renegade: — 
 
 "It is jist to save you from the torture," said he, "that 
 I'm now speaking; for, cuss me, the more I think of it, 
 the more I can't stand it no-how. I'm a rascal, captain, 
 but I'm no tiger-cat — especially to them that hasn't mis- 
 used me; and there's the grit of a man about you, that 
 strikes my feelings exactly. But you see, captain, there's 
 a bargain first to be made between us, afore I comes up 
 to the rack. But I'll make tarms easy." 
 
 "Make them what you will, and But, alas ! where 
 
 shall I find means to repay you? I who am robbed of 
 every thing ?" 
 
 "Didn't I say I could help you to the major's lands and 
 houses? and an't they a fortun' for an emperor?" 
 
 "You ! you help me ? help me to them ?" 
 
 "Captain," said the renegade, with sundry emphatic nods 
 of the head, "I'm a sight more of a rascal than you ever 
 dreamed on ! and this snapping of you up by Injun deviltry, 
 that you think so hard of, is but a small part of my mis- 
 doings ; I've been slaving agin you this sixteen years, more 
 or less, — slaving (that's the word, for I made a niggur of 
 myself) to rob you of these here very lands that I'm now 
 
NICK OF THE 'WOODS. 331 
 
 thinking of helping you to ! You don't believe me, cap- 
 tain? Well, did you ever hear of a certain honest fellow 
 of old Augusta, called John Atkinson?" 
 
 "Hah!" cried the soldier, looking with new eyes upon 
 the renegade; "you are then the fellow upon whose per- 
 jured testimony Braxley relied to sustain his frauds?" 
 
 ''The identical same man, John Atkinson — or Jack, as 
 they used to call me; but now Abel Doe, for convenience' 
 sake," said the refugee, with great composure; "and so, 
 now, you can see into the whole matter. It was me that 
 had the keeping of the major's daughter that you knows 
 of. Well; I was an honest feller in them days, — I was, 
 captain, by G — !" repeated the fellow with something that 
 sounded like remorseful utterance, "and jist as contented 
 in my cabin on the mountain as the old major himself in 
 his big house at Fellhallow. But Dick Braxley came, 
 d — n him, and there was an end of all honest doings; for 
 Dick was high with the old major, and the major was agin 
 his brothers; and says Dick, says he. Tut but this little 
 gal,' — meaning the major's daughter — 'out of the way, and 
 I'm jist as good as the major's heir; and I'll make your 
 f ortun ' " 
 
 "Ay ! and it was he then, the villain himself," cried Eo- 
 land, "who devised this horrible iniquity, which, by in- 
 nuendo at least, he charged upon my father ! You are a 
 rascal, indeed ! And you murdered the poor child ?" 
 
 "Murdered ! No, rat it, there was no murdering in the 
 case ; it was jist hiding in a hole, as you may call it. We 
 burned down the wigwam, and made on as if the gal was 
 burned in it; and then I stumped ofE to the Injun border, 
 among them that didn't know me, and, according to Dick's 
 advice, helped myself to another name, and jist passed off 
 the gal for my own daughter." 
 
 "Your own daughter!" cried Eoland, starting half up, 
 but being unable to rise on account of his bonds; "the 
 story then is true ! and Telia Doe is my uncle's child, the 
 lost heiress ?" 
 
 "Well, supposing she is?" said Atkinson, "I reckon 
 
332 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 you'd not be exactly the man to help her to her rights?" 
 
 "Ay, by heaven, but I would though!" said Roland, "if 
 rights they be. If my uncle, upon knowledge that she was 
 still alive, thought fit to alter his intentions with regard to 
 Edith and myself, he would have found none more ready 
 to acknowledge the poor girl's claims than ourselves, none 
 more ready to befriend and assist her." 
 
 "Well ! there's all the difference between being an honest 
 feller and a rascal !" muttered Atkinson, casting his eyes 
 upon the fire, which he fell to studying for a moment with 
 great earnestness. Then, starting up hastily, and turning 
 to the prisoner, he exclaimed: — 
 
 "There's not a better gal in the etarnal world! You 
 don't know it, captain; but that Telle, that poor crittur 
 that's afeard of her own shadow, did run all risks, and play 
 all manner of fool's tricks, to save you from this identical 
 same captivation; and the night you was sleeping at 
 Bruce's fort, and we waiting for you at the ford, she cried, 
 and begged, and prayed that I would do you no more mis- 
 chief ; and, cuss her, she threatened to tell you and Bruce, 
 there the whole affair of the ambush; till I scarced her 
 with my tomahawk, like a d — d rascal as I am (but there's 
 nothing will fetch her round but fear of murdering), and 
 so swore her to keep silence. And then, captain, her run- 
 ning away after you in the woods — why it was jist to cir- 
 cumvent us — ^to lead you to the t'other old road, and so save 
 you; it was, captain, and she owned it; and if you'd 'a' 
 taken to her leading, as she axed you, she'd '&' got you out 
 of the snarl altogether. Howsomever, captain," he con- 
 tinued, after making those admissions, which solved all 
 the enigmas of Telie's conduct ; "I won't lie in this matter 
 no-how. The gal is no gal of the major's, but my ovm 
 flesh and blood; the major's little crittur sickened on the 
 border, and died off in less than a year; and so there was 
 all our rascally burning and lying for nothing ; for, if we 
 had waited awhile, the poor thing would have died of her 
 own accord. 
 
 "Well, captain, I'm making a long story about nothing; 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 833 
 
 but the short of it is, I didn't make a bit of a fortun' at 
 all, but fell into troubles ; and the end was, I turned Injun, 
 jist as you see me ; and a feller there, Tom Bruee, took to 
 my little gal out of charity; and so she was bred up a 
 beggar's brat, with every body" a-jeering of her, because of 
 her d — d rascally father. And you see, this made a wolf 
 of me ; for I couldn't bring her among the Injuns to marry 
 her to a cussed nigger of a savage, — no, captain, I couldn't ; 
 for she's my ovm natteral flesh and blood, and, captain, I 
 love her ! 
 
 "And so, I goes back to Virginny, to see what Braxley 
 could do for her ; and there, d — n him, he puts me up to a 
 new rascality; which was nothing less than setting up my 
 gal for the major's daughter, and making her a great heir- 
 ess, and marrying of her. Howsomever, this wouldn't do, 
 this marrying; for, first, Dick Braxley was a bigger rascal 
 than myself, and it was agin my conscience to give him 
 the gal, who was a good gal, desarving of an honest hus- 
 band; and, next, the feller was mad after young madam, 
 and there was no telling how soon he might p'ison my gal 
 to marry the other. And so we couldn't fix the thing then 
 to our liking; no-way; but by and by we did. For when 
 the major died, he sends for me in a way I told him of; 
 and here's jist the whole of our rascality. We was, in the 
 first place, jist to kUl you ofE " 
 
 "To kill me, villain!" cried Eoland, whose interest was 
 already excited to the highest pitch by the renegade's 
 story. 
 
 "Not exactly with our own hands ; for I bargained agin 
 that ; but it was agreed you should be put out of the way of 
 ever returning agin to Virginny. Well, captain, Dick 
 was then to marry the young lady; and then jist step into 
 the major's estate, by virtue of the major's will, — the sec- 
 ond one, you must know, which Dick took good care to 
 hide away, pretending to suppose the major had destroyed 
 it." 
 
 "And that will," exclaimed Eoland, "the villain, the un- 
 paralleled villain^ is still possessed of?" 
 
334 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "Ifo, rat him — the devil has turned upon him at last, 
 and it is in better hands !" said Atkinson ; and without 
 more ado, he drew the instrument from his bosom, and un- 
 folded it before Eoland's astonished eyes. "Eead it," said 
 Doe, with exulting voice: "I can make nothing of the 
 cussed pot-hooks myself, having never been able to stand 
 the flogging of a school-house ; but I know the fixings of it 
 — the whole estate devised equally to you and the young 
 woman, to be divided according as you may agree of your- 
 selves — a monstrous silly way, that; but there's no help- 
 ing it." 
 
 And holding it before the Virginian, in the light of the 
 fire, the latter satisfied himself at a glance that Atkinson 
 had truly reported its contents. It was written with his 
 uncle's own hand, briefly but clearly; and while manifest- 
 ing throughout the greatest affection on the part of the 
 testator towards his orphan niece, it contained no expres- 
 sions indicative either of ill-will to his nephew, or dis- 
 approbation of the part the young man had chosen to play 
 in the great drama of revolution. And this was the more 
 remarkable, as it was dated at a period soon after Eoland 
 had so wilfully, or patriotically, fled to fight the battles of 
 his country, and when, it might have been supposed, the 
 stern old loyalist's anger was at its acme. A better and 
 more grateful proof that the young man had neither lost 
 his regard nor confidence, was shown in a final codicil, 
 dated in the year of Eoland's majority, in which he was 
 associated with Braxley as executor, the latter worthy 
 having been made to figure in that capacity alone, in the 
 body of the will. 
 
 "This is indeed a discovery!" cried Eoland, with the 
 agitation of Joy and hope. "Cut my bonds, deliver me, 
 with my cousin and companions, and the best farm in the 
 manor shall reward you ; nay, you shall fix your own terms 
 for your daughter and yourself." 
 
 "Exactly," said Atkinson, who, although the prisoner 
 was carefully bound, exhibited a jealous disinclination to 
 let the will come near his hands, md now restored it carg- 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 335 
 
 fully to his own bosom ; "we must talk over that matter of 
 tarms, just to avoid mistakes. And to begin, captain, I 
 will jist observe, as before, that if you don't take my ofEer, 
 and close with me hard and fast, you will roast at an 
 Injun's stake jist as sartainly as you are now snugging by 
 an Injun fire; you will, d — n me, there's no two ways 
 about it !" 
 
 "The terms, the terms?" cried Eoland eagerly; "name 
 them ; I will not dispute them." 
 
 But the renegade was in no such hurry. 
 
 "You see," said he, "I'm a d — d rascal, as I said; and 
 in this matter, I am jist as much a rascal as before, for 
 I'm playing foul with Braxley — ^having bargained to work 
 out the whole thing in his sarvice. Howsomever, there is 
 a kind of fair play in cheating hinij seeing it was him that 
 made a rascal of me. And, moresomever, I have my doubts 
 of him, and there's no way I can hold him up to a bargain. 
 And, lastly, captain, I don't see how he can be of any 
 sarvice to my gal ! He can't marry her, if he would ; and 
 if he could, he shouldn't have her ; and as for leaving her to 
 his tender mercies, I would jist as soon think of hunting 
 her up quarters in a bear's den. And as for keeping her 
 among these d — d brutes, the Injuns — for brutes they are, 
 captain, there's no denying it " 
 
 "Why need you speak of it more? I will find her a 
 home and protection — a home and protection for both of 
 you." 
 
 "As for me, captain, thanking you for the favor, you 
 won't do me so sich thing, seeing as how I don't look for it. 
 There's two or three small matters agin me in the Settle- 
 ments, which it is no notion of mine to bring up for reckon- 
 ing. The gal's the crittur to be protected; and I'll take 
 my pay out chiefly in the good you do to her ; and for the 
 small matters, not meaning no offence, I can trust best to 
 her — for she's my daughter, and she won't cheat me. Now, 
 captain, a better gal than Telle — ^her true name's Matilda, 
 but she never heard any thing of it but Telle — a better gal 
 was never seen in the woods, for all she's young and timor' 
 
336 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 some ; and it's jist my notion and my desire, that, whatevei 
 may become of me, nothing but good shall become of her. 
 And now, captain, here's my tarms : I'll cut you loose from 
 Injun tugs and Injun fires, carry you safe to the Settle- 
 ments, and give you this here precious sheepskin — which is 
 just as much as saying I'll make you the richest man, in 
 farms, flocks, and niggers, in all Virgiany; and you shall 
 marry the gal, and make a lady of her." 
 
 "Marry her !" cried Koland, in amazement and conster- 
 nation — "marry her !" 
 
 "Ay, captain ! that's the word," said Atkinson ; "I have 
 an idea you'll make her a good husband, for you're an 
 honest feller, and a brave one — I'll say that for you; and 
 she'll make you a good wife, she will, by G — , or I'll give 
 you my scalp on it. I reckon the crittur has a liking for 
 you already ; for I never did see any body so beg, and plead, 
 and take on for mortal feller. Marry her's the tarms ; and, 
 I reckon, you'll allow, they're easy ones ?" 
 
 "My good friend, you are surely jesting," said the Vir- 
 ginian. "I will do for her whatever you can wish or de- 
 mand. The best farm in the whole estate shall be hers, 
 and the protection of my kinswoman wUl be cheerfully and 
 gratefully granted." 
 
 "As for jesting, captain," said the renegade, with a 
 lowering brow, "there's not one particle of it about me 
 from top to toe. I offer you a bargain, that has all the 
 good on your side; and I reckoned you'd 'a' 'jumped at 
 it, with a whole hoss-load of thank'ees. I offer you a gal 
 that's the best gal in the whole etarnal wood; and, I 
 reckon, you may count all that this here sheepskin will 
 bring you, as jist so much dowry of my giving. An't that 
 making tarms easy? — for, as for the small matters for 
 myself, them is things I will come upon the gal for, with- 
 out troubling you for me. 
 
 "Now you see, captain, I'll jist argue the matter. You 
 may reckon it strange I should make you such an offer; 
 and ondoubtedly, so it is. But here's the case. First, cap- 
 tain, I'm agin burning you ; it makes me oneasy to thinlv of 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 83? 
 
 it — for you han't done me no harm, and you're a young 
 feller of the rale Virginny grit, jist after my own heart, 
 and I takes to you. And next, captain, there's the gal, — 
 a good gal, captain, that's desarving of all I can do for 
 her, and a heap more. But, captain, what's to become of 
 the erittur, when I'm done for? You see some of these 
 cussed Injuns — or it may be the white men, for they're all 
 agin me — will take the scalp off me some day, sooner or 
 later, there's no two ways about it. Well, then, what's to 
 become of the poor gal, that han't no friend in the big 
 world to care for her? Now, you see, I'm thinking of the 
 gal, and I'm making the bargain for her ; and I made it in 
 my own mind, jist the minute I seed you were a captive 
 among us, and laid my hand on this here will. Said I to 
 myself, TU save the youngster, and I'll marry my gal to 
 him, and there's jist two good things I'll do for the pair 
 of 'em.' 
 
 "And so, captain, there's exactly the end of it. If you'll 
 take the gal, you shall have her, and you'll make three dif- 
 ferent critturs greatly beholden to you; — first, the gal, 
 who's a good gal, and a comely gal, and will love and honor 
 you jist as hard as the best madam in the land ; next my- 
 self, that am her father, and longs to give her to an honest 
 feller that won't misuse her ; and, last, you own partickelar 
 self; — for the taking of her is exactly the only way you 
 have of getting back the old major's lands, and, what I 
 hold to be jist as agreeable, dragging clear of a hot Injun 
 fire, that will roast you to cinders, if you remain in this 
 d — d village two days longer !" 
 
 "My friend," cried Eoland, driven to desperation, for he 
 perceived Atkinson was making his extraordinary proposal 
 in perfectly good faith and simplicity, as a regular matter 
 of business, "you know not what you ask. Free me and 
 my kinswoman " 
 
 "As for young madam there," interrupted the renegade, 
 "don't be at all oneasy. She's in good hands, I tell you; 
 and Braxley 'U fetch her straight off to Virginny, as soon 
 as he has brought her to reason." 
 
338 mCK OF 5:HE WOODS. 
 
 "And your terms," said Eoland, smothering Ms fury as 
 he could, "imply an understanding that my cousin is to 
 be surrendered to him." 
 
 "Ondoubtedly," replied Doe; "there's no two ways 
 about it. I work on my own hook, in the matter of the 
 fortun' — ^'eause how, Dick's not to be trusted, where the 
 play's all in his own hands ; but as for cheating him out of 
 the gal, there's no manner of good can come of it, and it's 
 clear agin my own interest. ISTo, captain, here's the case: 
 you takes my gal Telle, and Braxley takes the t'other ; and 
 so it's all settled fair between you." 
 
 "Hark you, rascal !" cried Eoland, giving way to his 
 feelings ; "if you would deserve a reward, you must win it, 
 not by saving me, but my cousin. My own life I would 
 buy at the price of half the lands which that will makes me 
 master of; for the rescue of Edith from the vile Braxley, 
 I would give all. Save her, — save her from Braxley, and 
 then ask me what you will." 
 
 "Well," said Atkinson, "and you'll marry my gal?" 
 
 "Death and furies ! are you besotted ? I will enrich her, 
 — ay, with the best of my estate, — ^with all, she shall have 
 it all." 
 
 "And you won't have her then?" cried the renegade, 
 starting up in anger. "You don't think her good enough 
 for you, because you're of a great quality stock, and she's 
 come of nothing but me, John Atkinson, a plain back- 
 woods feller? Or mayhap," he added, more temperately, 
 "you're agin taking her, because of my being sich a d — d 
 notorious rascal? Well, now I reckon that's a thing no- 
 body will know of in Virginny, unless you should tell it 
 yourself. You can jist call her Telle Jones, or Telle 
 Small, or any nickname of that natur', and nobody'll be 
 the wiser; and I shall jist say nothing about myself— I 
 won't, captain, d — ^n me; for it's the gal's good I'm hunt- 
 ing after, and none of my own." 
 
 "You are mad, I tell you," cried the soldier. "Fix your 
 own terms for her; I will execute any instruments, I will 
 give you any bond." 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 330 
 
 "None of your cussed bonds for me," said Doe, with 
 great contempt; "I knows the worth of 'em, and I'm jist 
 lawyer enough to see how you could get out of 'em by 
 swearing they were written under compulsion, or what- 
 somever you call it. And, besides, who's to stop your 
 cheating the gal that has nobody to take care of her, when 
 you gits her in Virginny, where I darn't follow her ? No, 
 captain, there's jist but one way to make all safe and fair; 
 and that's by marrying her. So marry her, captain; and, 
 jist be short, captain, you must marry her or burn, there's 
 no two ways about it. I make you the last offer; there's 
 no time for another; for to-morrow you must be help'd 
 off, or it's too late for you. Come, captain, jist say the 
 word — marry the gal, and I'll save you." 
 
 "You are mad, I tell you again. Marry her I neither 
 can nor will. But " 
 
 "There's no occasion for more," interrupted Doe, start- 
 ing angrily up. "You've jist said the word, and that's 
 enough. And now, captain, when you come to the stake, 
 don't say I brought you there; — no, d — n it, don't — ^for 
 I've done jist all I could do to help you to life and for- 
 tun' — I have, d — ^n me, you can't deny it." 
 
 And with these words, uttered with sullen accents and 
 looks, the renegade stole from the hut, disregarding all Ro- 
 land's entreaties to him to return, and all the offers of 
 wealth with which the latter, in a frensy of despair, .sought 
 to awaken his cupidity and compassion. The door-mats 
 had scarce closed upon his retreating figure before they 
 were parted to give entrance to the two old Indians, who 
 immediately assumed their position at his side, preserving 
 them with vigilant fidelity throughout the remainder of 
 the night. 
 
340 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 What signifies my deadly-standing eye, 
 My silence, and my cloudy melancholy? 
 Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand. 
 Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. 
 
 — Titus Andronious. 
 
 In the mean time, and at the very moment when the 
 renegade was urging his extraordinary proposals on the 
 young Virginian, a scene was passing in the hut of We- 
 nonga, in which one of Roland's fellow-prisoners was des- 
 tined to play an important and remarkable part. There, in 
 the very tent in which he had struck so daring a blow for 
 the rescue of Edith, but in which Edith appeared no 
 more, lay the luckless Nathan, a victim not so much of his 
 own rashness as of the excessive zeal, not to say folly, of 
 his coadjutors. And thither he had been conducted but a 
 few hours before, after having passed the previous night 
 and day in a prison-house less honored, but fated, as it 
 proved, to derive peculiar distinction from the presence 
 of such a guest. 
 
 His extraordinary appearance, partaking so much of 
 that of an Indian juggler arrayed in the panoply of leger- 
 demain, had produced, as was mentioned, a powerful effect 
 on the minds of his captors, ever prone to the grossest 
 credulity and superstition; and this was prodigiously in- 
 creased by the sudden recurrence of his disease, — a dreadful 
 infliction, whose convulsions seem ever to have been pro- 
 posed as the favorite exemplars for the expression of 
 prophetic fury and the demoniacal orgasm, — and were 
 aped alike by the Pythian priestess on her tripod and the 
 ruder impostor of an Indian wigwam. The foaming lips 
 and convulsed limbs of the prisoner, if they did not "speak 
 the god" to the awe-struck barbarians, declared at least the 
 presence of the mighty fiend who possessed his body; and 
 when the fit was over, though they took good care to bind 
 him with thongs of bison-hide, like his companions, and 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 341 
 
 led him away to a place of security, it was with a degree 
 of gentleness and respect, that proved the strength of their 
 belief in his supernatural endowments. 
 
 This belief was still further indicated the next day, by 
 crowds of savages who flocked into the wigwam where ho 
 was confined, some to stare at him, some to inquire the 
 mysteries of their fate, and some, as it seemed, with cre- 
 dulity less unconditional, to solve the enigma of his appear- 
 ance, before yielding their full belief. Among these last 
 were the renegade and one or two savages of a more sa- 
 gacious or sceptical turn than their fellows, who beset the 
 supposed conjurer with questions calculated to pluck out 
 the heart of his mystery. 
 
 But questions and curiosity were in vain. The conjurer 
 was possessed by a silent devil; and whether it was that 
 the shock of his last paroxysm had left his mind be- 
 numbed and stupefied, whether his courage had failed at 
 last, leaving him plunged in despair, or whether, indeed, 
 his frigid indifference was not altogether assumed, to serve 
 a peculiar purpose, it was nevertheless certain that he be- 
 stowed not the slightest attention on any of his questioners, 
 not even upon Doe, who had previously endeavored to un- 
 ravel the riddle by seeking the assistance of Ealph Stack- 
 pole, — assistance, however, which Ealph, waxing sagacious 
 of a sudden, professed himself whoUy unable to give. The 
 faithful fellow indeed professed to be Just as ignorant of 
 the person and character of the young Virginian; swear- 
 ing, with a magnanimous resolve, to assume the pains and 
 penalties of Indian ire on his own shoulders, that "the 
 hoss-stealing" (which he doubted not would be held the 
 most unpardonable feature in the adventure), "was jist 
 a bit of a private speculation of his own, — that there was 
 nobody with him, — ^that he had come on his expedition 
 alone, and knew no more of the other fellows than he did 
 of the 'tarnal tempers of Injuns bosses, — ^not he!" In 
 short the sceptics were baffled, and the superstitious were 
 left to the enjoyment of their wonder and awe. 
 
 At nightfall, Nathan was removed to Wenonga's cabin, 
 
343 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 where the chief, surrounded by a dozen or more warriors, 
 made him a speech in such English phrases as he had ac- 
 quired, informing the prisoner, as before, that "he, We- 
 nonga, was a great chief and warrior; that the other, the 
 prisoner, was a great medicine-man, and, finally, that he, 
 Wenonga, required of his prisoner, the medicine-man, by 
 his charms, to produce the Jibbenainosay, the unearthly 
 slayer of his people and curse of his tribe, in order that he, 
 the great chief, who feared neither warrior nor devil, might 
 fight him like a man and kill him, so that he, the aforesaid 
 destroyer, should destroy his young men in the dark no 
 longer." 
 
 Not even to this speech, though received by the war- 
 riors with marks of great approbation, did Nathan vouch- 
 safe the least notice ; and the savages despairing of moving 
 him to their purpose at that period, but hoping perhaps to 
 find him in a more reasonable mood at another moment, 
 left him, — but not until they had again inspected the 
 thongs, and satisfied themselves they were tied in knots 
 strong and intricate enough to hold even a conjurer. They 
 also, before leaving him to himself, placed food and water 
 at his side, and in a way that was perhaps designed to show 
 their opinion of his wondrous powers ; for as his arms were 
 pinioned tightly behind his backi,at-was evident he could 
 feed himself only by magic. ^/"^ 
 
 The stolid indifference to all sublunary matters which 
 had distinguished Nathan throughout the scene, vanished 
 the moment he found himself alone. In fact, the step of 
 the savage the last to depart was yet rustling among the 
 weeds at the Black Vulture's door, when, making a violent 
 effort, he succeeded in placing himself in a sitting posture, 
 and glared with eager look around the apartment, which 
 was, as before, dimly lighted by a fire on the floor. The 
 piles of skins and domestic utensils were hanging about, 
 as on the preceding night ; and, indeed, nothing seemed to 
 have been disturbed except the weapons, of which there had 
 been so many when Edith occupied the den, but of which 
 not a single one now remained. Over the fire — the long 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 343 
 
 tresses that depended from it swinging and fluttering in 
 the currents of smoke and heated air — was the bundle of 
 scalps to which Braxley had so insidiously directed the 
 gaze of Edith, and which was now one of the first objects 
 that met Nathan's eyes. 
 
 Having reconnoitred every corner and cranny, and con- 
 vinced himself that there was no lurking savage watching 
 his movements, he began straightway to test the strength of 
 the thong by which his arms were bound, but without mak- 
 ing the slightest impression on it. The cord was strong; 
 the knots were securely tied; and after five or six minutes 
 of struggling, in which he made the most prodigious efforts 
 to tear it asunder, without hesitating at the anguish it 
 caused him, he was obliged to give over his hopes. Fain 
 could he have, like Thomson's demon in the net of the good 
 EJiight, enjoyed that consolation of despair, to 
 
 "Sit him felly down, and gnaw his bitter nail." 
 
 He summoned his strength, and renewed his efforts again 
 and again, but always without effect; and being at last 
 persuaded of his inability to aid himself, he leaned back 
 against a bundle of skins, to counsel with his own thoughts 
 what hope, if any, yet remained. 
 
 At that instant, and while the unuttered misery of his 
 spirit might have been read in his haggard and despairing 
 eyes, a low whining sound, coming from a corner of the 
 tent, but on the outside, with a rustling and scratching, as 
 if some animal were struggling to burrow its way betwixt 
 the skins and the earth into the lodge, struck his ear. He 
 started and stared round with a wild but joyous look of 
 recognition. 
 
 "Hist, hist!" he cried — or rather whispered, for his 
 voice was not above his breath — "hist, hist! If thee ever 
 was wise, now do thee show it !" 
 
 The whining ceased; the scratching and rustling was 
 heard a moment longer; and then, fising from the s]jiu 
 
344 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 wall under whicli he had made his way, appeared — no 
 bulky demon, indeed, summoned by the conjurer to his 
 assistance — but little dog Peter, his trusty, sagacious, and 
 hitherto inseparable friend, creeping with stealthy step, 
 but eyes glistening with affection, towards the bound and 
 helpless prisoner. 
 
 "I can't hug thee, little Peter !" cried the master, as the 
 little animal crawled to him, wagging his tail, and throw- 
 ing his paws upon Nathan's knee, looked into his face with 
 a most meaning stare of inquiry — "I can't hug thee, 
 Peter ! Thee sees how it is ! the Injuns have ensnared me. 
 But where thee is, Peter, there, there is hope. Quick, little 
 Peter!" he cried, thrusting his arms out from his back; 
 "thee has teeth, and thee knows how to use them — ^thee has 
 gnawed me free before. Quick, little Peter, quick ! Thee 
 teeth is the knives, and with them thee can cut me free !" 
 
 The little animal, whose remarkable docility and sagacity 
 have been instanced before, seemed actually to understand 
 his master's words, or, at least, to comprehend from his 
 gestures the strange duty that was now required of him; 
 and, without more ado, he laid hold with his teeth upon 
 the thong round Nathan's wrist, tugging and gnawing at 
 it with a zeal and perseverance that seemed to make his 
 master's deliverance, sooner or later, sure ; and his industry 
 Was quickened by Nathan, who all the while encouraged 
 him with whispers to continue his efforts. 
 
 "Thee gnawed me loose when the four Shawnees had me 
 bound by their fire, at night, on the banks of Kenhawa — 
 (does thee remember that, Peter?) Ay, thee did, while 
 the knaves slept ; and from that sleep they never waked, the 
 murdering villains ! — ^no, not one of them ! Gnaw, little 
 Peter, — gnaw hard and fast, and care not if thee wounds 
 me with thee teeth; for, truly, I will forgive thee, even if 
 thee bites me to the bone. Faster, Peter, faster! Does 
 thee boggle at the ekin because of its hardness ? Truly, I 
 have seen thee a-hunkering, Peter, when thee would have 
 cracked it like a marrow-bone ! Fast, Peter, fast ; and 
 thee shall see me again in freedom !" 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 345 
 
 With such expressions Nathan inflamed the zeal of his 
 familiar, who continued to gnaw for the space of five 
 minutes or more, and with such efEect, that Nathan, who 
 ever and anon tested the hrute's progress by a violent jerk 
 at the rope, found, at the fourth or fifth effort, that it 
 yielded a little, and cracked, as if its fibres were already 
 giving way. 
 
 "Now, Peter! tug, if thee ever tugged!" he cried, his 
 hopes rising almost to ecstasy; "a little longer; one bite 
 more, — a little, but a little longer, Peter, if thee loves 
 thee master! Yea, Peter, and we will walk the woods , 
 again in freedom ! Now, Peter, now for thee last bite !" 
 
 But the last bite Peter, on the sudden, betrayed a dis- 
 inclination to make. He ceased his toil, jostled against 
 his master's side, and uttered a whine, the lowest that 
 could be made audible. 
 
 "Hah !" cried Nathan, as, at the same instant, he heard 
 the sound of footsteps approaching the wigwam, "thee 
 speaks the truth, and thee accursed villains is upon us; 
 away with thee, dog — thee shall finish thee work by and 
 by!" 
 
 Faithful to his master's orders, or perhaps to his own 
 sense of what was fitting and proper in such a case, little 
 Peter leaped hastily among the skins and other litter that 
 covered half the floor and the sleeping-berths of the lodge, 
 and was immediately out of sight, having left the apart- 
 ment, or concealed himself in its darkest corner. The 
 steps approached; they reached the door; Nathan threw 
 himself back, reclining against his pile of furs, and fixed 
 his eyes upon the mats at the entrance. They were pres- 
 ently parted; and the old chief, Wenonga, came halting 
 into the apartment, — halting, yet with a step that was 
 designed to indicate all the pride and dignity of a war- 
 rior. And this attempt at state was the more natural and 
 proper, as he was armed and painted as if for war, his 
 grim countenance hideously bedaubed on one side with 
 vermilion, on the other with black, a long scalping-knife, 
 without sheath or cover, swinging from his wampum belt. 
 
346 NICK or THE WOODS. 
 
 while a hatchet, the blade and handle both of steel, was 
 grasped in his hand. 
 
 In this guise, and with a wild and demoniacal glitter of 
 eye, that seemed the result of mingled drunkenness and 
 insanity, the old chief stalked and limped up to the pris- 
 oner, looking as if bent upon his instant destruction. That 
 his passions were up in arms, that he was ripe for mis- 
 chief and blood, was indeed plain and undeniable; but he 
 soon made it apparent that his rage was only conditional 
 and alternative, as regarded the prisoner. Pausing within, 
 three or four feet of him, and giving him a look that 
 seemed designed to freeze his blood, it was so desperately 
 hostile and savage, he extended his arm and hatchet, — not, 
 however, to strike, as it appeared, but to do what might 
 be Judged almost equally agreeable to nine-tenths of his 
 race, — that is, to deliver a speech. 
 
 "I am Wenonga I" he cried, in his own tongue, being 
 perhaps too much enraged to think of any other, — "I am 
 Wenonga, a great Shawnee chief. I have fought the Long- 
 knives, and drunk their blood; when they hear my voice 
 they are afraid, — they run howling away like dogs when 
 the squaws beat them from the fire — who ever stood before 
 Wenonga? I have fought my enemies, and killed them. 
 I never feared a white man; why should I fear a white 
 man's devil ? Where is the Jibbenainosay, the curse of my 
 tribe? — the Shawneewannaween, the howl of my people? 
 He kills them in the dark, — he creeps upon them while 
 they sleep ; but he fears to stand before the face of a war- 
 rior ! Am I a dog ? or a woman ? The squaws and the 
 children curse me, as I go by ; they say I am the killer of 
 their husbands and fathers ; they tell me it was the deed of 
 Wenonga that brought the white man's devil to kill them ; 
 if Wenonga is a chief, let him kill the killer of his people ! 
 I am Wenonga ; I am a man ; I fear nothing ; I have sought 
 the Jibbenainosay. But the Jibbenainosay is a coward ; he 
 walks in the dark, he kills in the time of sleep — ^he fears 
 to fight a warrior ! My brother is a great medicine-man ; 
 be is a white m^n, and he knows how to find the white 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 347 
 
 man's devils. Let my brother speak for me ; let him show 
 me where to find the Jibbenainosay ; and he shall be a 
 great chief, and the son of a chief; Wenonga will make 
 him his son, and he shall be a Shawnee !" 
 
 "Does Wenonga, at last, feel he has brought a devil 
 upon his people ?" said Nathan, speaking for the first time 
 since his capture, and speaking in a way well suited to 
 strike the interrogator with surprise. A sneer, as it 
 seemed, of gratified malice crept over his face, and was 
 visible even through the coat of paint that still invested his 
 features ; and, to crown all, his words were delivered in the 
 Shawnee tongue, correctly and unhesitatingly pronounced; 
 which was itself, or so Wenonga appeared to hold it, a 
 proof of his superhuman acquirements. 
 
 The old chief started, as the words fell upon his ear, and 
 looked around him in awe, as if the prisoner had already 
 summoned a spirit to his elbow. 
 
 "I have heard the voice of the dead!" he cried. "My 
 brother is a great medicine ! But I am a chief ; I am not 
 afraid." 
 
 "The chief tells me lies," rejoined Nathan, who, having 
 once unlocked his lips, seemed but little disposed to resume 
 his former silence; — "the chief tells me lies; there is no 
 wliite devil hurts his people \" 
 
 "I am an old man, and a warrior, — I speak the truth !" 
 said the chief, with dignity; and then added, with sudden 
 feeling, — "I am an old man; I had sons and grandsons — 
 young warriors, and boys that would soon have blacked 
 their faces for battle* — where are they ? The Jibbenaino- 
 say has been in my village, he has been in my wigwam — 
 there are none left — ^the Jibbenainosay killed them!" 
 
 "Ay!" exclaimed the prisoner, and his eyes shot fire as 
 he spoke, "they fell under his hand, man and boy, — ^there 
 was not one of them spared — they were of the blood of 
 Wenonga 1" 
 
 * The young warriors of many tribes are obliged to confine 
 tlxemselves to black paint, during their probationary campaigns. 
 
348 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 "Wenonga is a great chief!" cried the Indian; "he is 
 childless ; but childless he has made the Long-knife." 
 
 "The Long-knife, and the son of Onas !" said Nathan. 
 
 The chief staggered back, as if struck by a blow, and 
 stared wildly upon the prisoner. 
 
 "My brother is a medicine-man, — ^he knows all things !" 
 he exclaimed. "He speaks the truth; I am a great war- 
 rior; I took the scalp of the Quakel* " 
 
 "And of his wife and children — you left not one alive ! — 
 Ay!" continued Nathan, fastening his looks upon the 
 amazed chief, "you slew them all ! And he that was the 
 husband and father, was the Shawnees' friend, the friend 
 even of Wenonga !" 
 
 "The white men are dogs and robbers !" said the chief ; 
 "the Quakel was my brother; but I killed him. I am an 
 Indian — I love white man's blood. My people have soft 
 hearts ; they cried for the Quakel ; but I am a warrior with 
 no heart. I killed them; their scalps are hanging to my 
 fire-post ! I am not sorry ; I am not afraid." 
 
 The eyes of the prisoner followed the Indian's hand, as 
 he pointed, with savage triumph, to the shrivelled scalps 
 that had once crowned the heads of childhood and inno- 
 cence, and then sunk to the floor, while his whole frame 
 shivered as with an ague-fit. 
 
 "My brother is a great medicine-man," iterated the 
 chief; "he shall show me the Jibbenainosay, or he shall 
 die." 
 
 "The chief lies!" cried Nathan, with a sudden and 
 taunting laugh ; "he can talk big things to a prisoner, but 
 he fears the Jibbenaiaosay !" 
 
 "I am a chief and warrior; I will fight the white man's 
 devil !" 
 
 "The warrior shall see him then," said the captive, with 
 extraordinary fire. "Cut me loose from my bonds, and I 
 will briag him before the chief." 
 
 * Quakels — a corruption of Quakers, whom the Indians of 
 Pennsylvania originally designated as the sons of Ofias, that 
 being one pf the names they bestowed upoii Penn, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 349 
 
 And as he spoke, he thTust out his legs, inviting the 
 stroke of the axe upon the thongs that bound his ankles. 
 
 But this was a favor, which, stupid or mad as he was, 
 Wenonga hesitated to grant. 
 
 "The chief," cried ISTathan, with a laugh of scorn, 
 "would stand face to face with the Jibbenainosay, and yet 
 fears to loose a naked prisoner !" 
 
 The taunt produced its effect. The axe fell upon the 
 thong, and Nathan leaped to his feet. He extended his 
 wrists. The Indian hesitated again. "The chief shall 
 see the Jibbenainosay!" cried Nathan; and the cord was 
 cut. The prisoner turned quickly round, and while his 
 eyes fastened with a wild but joyous glare upon his jailer's, 
 a laugh, that woidd have become the jaws of a hyena, 
 lighted up his visage, and sounded from his lips. "Look !" 
 he cried, "thee has thee will! Thee sees the destroyer of 
 thee race, — ay, murdering villain, the destroyer of thee peo- 
 ple, and thee own !" 
 
 And with that, leaping upon the astounded chief with 
 rather the rancorous ferocity of a wolf than the enmity of 
 a human being, and clutching him by the throat with one 
 hand, while with the other he tore the iron tomahawk from 
 his grasp, he bore him to the earth, cliriging to him as he 
 fell, and using the wrested weapon with such furious haste 
 and skill, that before they had yet reached the ground, he 
 had buried it in the Indian's brain. Another stroke, and 
 another, he gave with the same murderous activity and 
 force ; and Wenonga trode the path to the spirit-land, bear- 
 ing the same gory evidences of the unrelenting and success- 
 ful vengeance of the white man that his children and 
 grandchildren had borne before him. 
 
 "Ay, dog, thee dies at last! at last I have caught 
 thee !" 
 
 With these words, Nathan, leaving the shattered skull, 
 dashed the tomahawk into the Indian's chest, snatched the 
 sealping-knife from the belt, and with one griding sweep 
 of the blade, and one fierce jerk of his arm, the gray scalp- 
 Jock of tbg Warrior was torn fropi the dishonored head, 
 
350 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 The last proof of the slayer's ferocity was not given until 
 he had twice, with his utmost strength, drawn the knife 
 over the dead man's breast, dividing skin, cartilage, and 
 even bone before it, so sharp was the blade, and so power- 
 ful the hand that urged it. 
 
 Then, leaping to his feet, and snatching from the post 
 the bundle of withered scalps, — ^the locks and ringlets of 
 his own murdered children, — which he spread a moment 
 before his eyes with one hand, while the other extended, as 
 if to contrast the two prizes together, the reeking scalp- 
 lock of the murderer, he sprang through the door of the 
 lodge, and fled from the village; but not until he had, in 
 the insane fury of the moment, given forth a wild, ear- 
 piercing yell, that spoke the triumph, the exulting trans- 
 port of long-baffled but never-dying revenge. The wild 
 whoop thus rising in the depth and stillness of the night, 
 startled many a wakeful warrior and timorous mother 
 from her repose. But such sounds in a disorderly hamlet 
 of barbarians were too common to create alarm or uneasi- 
 ness; and the wary and the timid again betook themselves 
 to their dreams, leaving the corse of their chief to stiffen 
 on the floor of his own wigwam. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIV. 
 
 Now they reach thee in their anger: 
 
 Fire and smoke and hellish clangor 
 
 Are around thee! — Byron. 
 
 Feom an uneasy slumber, into which, notwithstanding 
 his sufferings of mind and body, he had at last fallen, Eo- 
 land was roused at the break of day by a horrible clamor 
 that suddenly arose in the village. A shrill scream, that 
 seemed to come from a female voice, was first heard; then 
 a wild yell from the lungs of a warrior, which was caught 
 ,iij) and repestfd \>^ other voicesj and, in a few moments, 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 351 
 
 the whole town resounded with shrieks, dismal and thrill- 
 ing, and expressing astonishment mingled with fear and 
 horror. 
 
 The prisoner, incapable of comprehending the cause of 
 such a commotion, looked to his guards, who had started 
 up at the first cry, grasped their arms, and stood gazing 
 upon one another with perturbed looks of inquiry. The 
 shriek was repeated by one, — twenty, — an hundred throats ; 
 and the two warriors, with hurried exclamations of alarm, 
 rushed from the wigwam, leaving the prisoner to solve the 
 riddle as he might. But he tasked his faculties in vain. 
 His first idea — and it sent the blood leaping to his heart- 
 that the village was suddenly attacked by an army of white 
 men, — perhaps by the gallant Bruce, the commander of the 
 station where his misfortunes had begun, — ^was but mo- 
 mentary; no lusty hurrahs were heard mingled with the 
 shrieks of the savages, and no explosions of fire-arms de- 
 noted the existence of conflict. And yet he perceived that 
 the cries were all of surprise and dismay. Some voices 
 were uplifted in rage, which was evidently spreading 
 among the agitated barbarians, and displacing the other 
 passions in their minds. 
 
 In the midst of the tumult, and while he was yet lost in 
 wonder and speculation, the renegade Doe suddenly rushed 
 into the wigwam, pale with afEright and agitation. 
 
 "They'll murder' you, captain!" he cried, "there's no 
 time for holding back now; take the gal, and I'll save you. 
 The village is up, — they'll have your blood, — ^they're cry- 
 ing for it already, — squaws, warriors and all, — ay, d — n 
 'em, there's no stopping 'em now !" 
 
 "What in heaven's name is the matter?" demanded the 
 soldier. 
 
 "All etarnity's the matter !" replied Doe, with vehement 
 utterance ; "the Jibbenainosay has been in the village, and 
 killed the chief, ay, d — ^n liim, struck him in his own house, 
 marked him at his own fire ! he lies dead and scalped, — ay, 
 and crossed too, — on the floor of his own wigwam; the 
 conjurer gone, snapped up by his devil, and Wenonga stifE 
 
352 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 and gory. Don't you hear 'em yelling ? The Jibbenaino- 
 say, I tell you — he has killed the chief ; we found him dead 
 in his cabin, and the Injuns are bawling for revenge — they 
 are, d — n 'em, and they'll murder you — burn you — ^tear 
 you to pieces; they will, there's no two ways -about it; 
 they're singing out to murder the white men, and they'll 
 be on you in no time !" 
 
 "And there is no escape !" cried Eoland, whose blood 
 curdled, as he listened to the thrilling yells that were in- 
 creased in number and loudness, as if the enraged bar- 
 barians, rushing madly through the village, were gather- 
 ing arms to destroy the prisoners, — "there is no escape ?" 
 
 "Take the gal! jist say the word, and I'll save you, or 
 die with you, I will, d — n me !" exclaimed Doe, with fierce 
 energy. "There's bosses grazing in the pastures; there's 
 halters swinging above us; I'll mount you, and save you. 
 Say the word, captain, and I'll cut you loose, and save you 
 — say it, and be quick; your life depends on it — ^hark! 
 the dogs is coming! Hold out your arms till I cut the 
 tug." 
 
 "Any thing for my life !" cried the Virginian ; "but if 
 it can be only bought at the price of marrying the girl, it is 
 lost." 
 
 And the soldier would have resisted the efEort Doe was 
 making for his deliverance. 
 
 "You'll be murdered, I tell you !" re-echoed Doe, with 
 increased vehemence, holding the knife ready in his hand : 
 "they're coming on us; I don't want to see you butchered 
 like an ox. One word, captain ! — I'll take your word ; 
 you're an honest feller, and I'll believe in you; jist one 
 word, captain. I'll help you; I'll fight the dogs for you; 
 I'll give you weapons. The gal, captain ! life and the for- 
 tun', captain ! — the gal ! the gal !" 
 
 "Never, I tell you, never !"' cried Eoland, who, faithful 
 to the honor and integrity of spirit which conducted the 
 men of that day, the mighty fathers of the republic through 
 the vicissitudes of revolution to the rewards of liberty, 
 would not stoop to the meanness of falsehood and decep- 
 
NICK OF THE "WOODS. 853 
 
 tion, even in that moment of peril and fear; — "any thing 
 but that — ^but that, never!" 
 
 But, whilst he spoke. Doe, urged on by his own impetu- 
 ous feelings, had cut the thong from his wrists, and was 
 even proceeding to divide those that bound his ankles, dis- 
 regarding all his protestations and averments, or perhaps 
 drowning them in his own eager exclamations of, "The 
 gal, captain, — the word, jist one word !" when a dozen or 
 more savages burst into the hut, and sprang upon the 
 Virginian, yelling, cursing, and flourishing their knives 
 and hatchets, as if they would have torn him to pieces on 
 the spot. And such, undoubtedly, was the aim of some 
 of the younger men, who struck at him several furious 
 blows, that were only averted by the older warriors at the 
 expense of some of their own blood shed in the struggle, 
 which was, for a moment, as fiercely waged over the 
 prisoner, as the conflict of enraged hounds over the body 
 of a disabled panther, that all are emulous to worry and 
 tear. 
 
 One instant of dreadful confusion, of shrieks, blows, 
 and maledictions, and the Virginian was snatched up in 
 the arms of two or three of the strongest men, and dragged 
 from the hut; but only to find himself surrounded by a 
 herd of villagers, men, women, and children, who fell upon 
 him with as much fury as the young warriors had done, 
 beating him with bludgeons, wounding him with their 
 knives, so that it seemed impossible the older braves could 
 protect him much longer. But others ran to their assist- 
 ance; and forming a circle around him, so as to exclude 
 the mob, he was borne onwards, in temporary security, but 
 destined to a fate to which murder on the spot would have 
 been gentleness and mercy. 
 
 The tumult haa roused Edith also from her painful 
 slumbers; and the more necessarily, since although re- 
 moved from the tent in which she was first imprisoned, 
 she was still confined in Wenonga's wigwam. It was the 
 scream of the hag, the chieftain's wife, who had discovered 
 bis body, that first gave the alarm; and the villagers all 
 
354 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 rushing to 'the cabin, and yelling their astonishment and 
 terror, there arose an uproar, almost in her ears, that was 
 better fitted to fright her to death than to lull her to re- 
 pose. She started from her couch, and, with a woman's 
 weakness, cowered away in the furthest corner of the lodge, 
 to escape the pitiless foes, whom her fears represented as 
 already seeking her life. Nor was this chimera banished 
 from her mind, when a man, rushing in, snatched her 
 from her ineffectual concealment, and hurried her towards 
 the door. But her terrors ran in another channel when 
 the ravisher, conquering the feeble resistance she attempted, 
 replied to her wild entreaties "not to kill her," in the well- 
 remembered voice of Braxley. 
 
 "Kill you, indeed!" he muttered, but with agitated 
 tones ; — "I come to save you ; even you are in danger from 
 the maddened villains ; they are murdering all ! "We must 
 fly, — ay, and fast. My horse is saddled, — ^the woods are 
 open — I will yet save you." 
 
 "Spare me; — for my uncle's sake, who was your bene- 
 factor, spare me!" cried Edith, struggling to free herself 
 from his grasp. But she struggled in vain. "I struggle 
 to save you," cried Braxley ; and without uttering another 
 word, bore her from the hut; and, still grasping her with 
 an arm of iron, sprang upon a saddled horse, — ^the identical 
 animal that had once sustained the weight of the unfor- 
 tunate Pardon Dodge, — which stood under the elm-tree, 
 trembling with fright at the scene of horror then repre- 
 sented on the square 
 
 Upon this vacant space was now assembled the whole 
 population of the village, old and young, the strong and 
 the feeble, all agitated alike by those passions which, when 
 let loose in a mob, whether civilized or savage, almost en- 
 force the conviction that there is something essentially 
 demoniac in the human character and composition; as if, 
 indeed, the earth of which man is framed, had been gath- 
 ered only after it had been trodden by the foot of the 
 Prince of Darkness. 
 
 Even Edith forgot for a moment her fears of Braxley,— 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 355 
 
 Kay, she clung to him for protection, — ^when her eye fell 
 apon the savage herd, of whom the chief number were 
 browded together, in the centre of the square, surrounding 
 /some object rendered invisible by their bodies, while others 
 /were rushing tumultuously hither and thither, driven by 
 causes she could not divine, brandishing weapons, and 
 uttering howls without number. One large party was 
 passing from the wigwam itself, their cries not less loud 
 or ferocious than the others, but changing occasionally 
 into piteous lamentations. They bore in their arms the 
 body of the murdered chief, — an object of such horror, 
 that when Edith's eyes had once fallen upon it, it seemed 
 as if her enthralled spirit would never have recovered 
 strength to remove them. 
 
 But there was a more fearful spectacle yet to be seen. 
 The wife of Wenonga suddenly rushed from the lodge, 
 bea;ring a fire-brand in her hand. She ran to the body of 
 the chief, eyed it for a moment, with such a look as a 
 tigeress might cast upon her slaughtered cub; and then, 
 uttering a scream that was heard over the whole square, 
 and whirling the brand round her head, until it was in a 
 flame, fled with frantic speed towards the centre of the 
 area, the mob parting before her, and replying to her 
 shrieks, which were uttered at every step, with outcries 
 scarce less wild and thrilling. As they parted thus, open- 
 ing a vista to the heart of the square, the object which 
 seemed the centre of attraction to all, was fully revealed to 
 the maiden's eyes. 
 
 Chained to two strong posts near the Council-house, 
 their arms drawn high above their heads, a circle of brush- 
 wood, prairie-grass, and other combustibles heaped around 
 them, were two wretched captives, — white men, from whose 
 persons a dozen savage hands were tearing their garments, 
 while as many more were employed heaping additional 
 fuel on the pile. One of these men, as Edith could see 
 full well, for the spectacle was scarce an hundred paces re- 
 moved, was Eoaring Kalph, the captain of the horse-thieves. 
 The other — and that was a sight to rend her eye-balls from 
 
356 ICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 their sockets, — ^was her unfortunate kinsman, — ^the play- 
 mate of her childhood, the friend and lover of maturer 
 years, — ^her cousin, — brother, — ^her all, — Roland Forrester. 
 It was no error of sight, no delusion of mind ; the spectacle 
 was too palpable to be doubted; it was Eoland Forrester 
 whom she saw chained to the stake, surrounded by yelling 
 and pitiless barbarians, impatient for the commencement 
 of their infernal pastime, while the wife of the chief, kneel- 
 ing at the pile, was already endeavoring with her brand 
 to kindle it into flame. 
 
 The shriek of the wretched maiden, as she beheld the 
 deplorable, the maddening sight, might have melted hearts 
 of Btone, had there been even such among the Indians. 
 But Indians, engaged in the delights of torturing a pris- 
 oner, are as the dead chief had boasted himself, without 
 heart. Pity, which the Indian can feel at another moment, 
 as deeply, perhaps, and benignly as a white man, seems 
 then, and is, entirely unknown — as much so, indeed, as if 
 it had never entered into his nature. His mind is then 
 voluntarily given up to the drunkenness of passion; and 
 cruelty, in its most atrocious and fiendish character, reigns 
 predominant. The familiar of a Spanish Inquisition has 
 sometimes moistened the lips of a heretic stretched upon 
 the rack, — the buccaneer of the tropics has relented over 
 the contumacious prisoner gasping to death under his 
 lashes and heated pincers; but we know of no instance 
 where an Indian, torturing a prisoner at the stake, the 
 torture once begun, has ever been moved' to compassionate, 
 to regard with any feelings but those of exultation and joy, 
 the agonies of the thrice-wretched victim. 
 
 The shriek of the maiden was unheard, or unregarded; 
 and Braxley, — ^himself so horrified by the spectacle, that, 
 while pausing to give it a glance, he forgot the delay was 
 also disclosing it to Edith, — ^grasping her tighter in his 
 arms, from which she had half leaped in her frensy, turned 
 his horse's head to fly, without seeming to be regarded or 
 observed by the savages, which was perhaps in part owing 
 to his having resumed his Indian attire. But, as he turned 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 357 
 
 he could not resist the impulse to snatch one more look at 
 his doomed rival. 'A universal yell of triumph sounded 
 over the square ; the flames were already bursting from the 
 pile, and the torture was begun. 
 
 The torture was begun, but it was not destined long to 
 endure. The yell of triumph was yet resounding over the 
 square and awaking responsive echoes among the surround- 
 ing hills, when the explosion of at least fifty rifles sharp, 
 rattling, and deadly, like the war-note of the rattlesnake, 
 followed by a mighty hurrah of Christian voices, and the 
 galloping of horse into the village from above, converted 
 the whole scene into one of amazement and terror. The 
 ToUey was repeated, and by as many more guns ; and in an 
 instant there was seen rushing into the square a body of 
 at least an hundred mounted white men, their horses cov- 
 ered with foam, and staggering with exhaustion, yet 
 spurred on by their riders with furious ardor; while twice 
 as many footmen were beheld rushing after, in mad rivalry, 
 cheering and shouting, in reply to their leader, whose voice 
 was heard in front of the horsemen, thundering out — . 
 "Small change for the Blue Licks! Charge 'em, the 
 brutes ! give it to 'em handsome !" 
 
 The yells of dismay of the savages, taken thus by sur- 
 prise, and, as it seemed, by a greatly superior force, whose 
 approach, rapid and tumultuous as it must have been, their 
 universal devotion to the Saturnalia of blood had rendered 
 them incapable of perceiving — ^the shouts of the mounted 
 assailants, as they dashed into the square and among the 
 mob, shouting as they came, or handling their rifles like 
 maces and battle-axes — the trampling and neighing of the 
 horses, and the thundering hurras of the footmen charging 
 into the town with almost the speed of the horse — ^made a 
 din too horrible for description. 
 
 The shock of the assault was not resisted by the Indians 
 even for a moment. Some rushed to the neighboring wig- 
 wams for their guns; but the majority, like the women and 
 children, fled to seek refuge among the rocks and bushes of 
 the over-hanging hill; from which, however, as they ap« 
 
35^ NICS OF THE WOODS. 
 
 proached it, a deadly volley was shot upon them by foe- 
 men who already occupied its tangled sides. Others ag^in 
 fled towards the meadows and corn-fields, where, in like 
 manner, they were intercepted by bands of mounted Long- 
 knives, who seemed pouring into the valley from every hill. 
 In short, it was soon made apparent that the village of the 
 Black Vulture was assailed from all sides, and by such an 
 army of avenging white men as had never before penetrated 
 into the Indian territory. 
 
 All the savages, — all, at least, who were not shot or 
 struck down in the square, — fled from the village; and 
 among the foremost of them was Braxley, who, as much 
 astounded as his Indian confederates, but better prepared 
 for flight, struck the spurs into his horse, and, still retain- 
 ing his helpless prize, dashed across the river, to escape as 
 he might. 
 
 In the meanwhile the victims at the stake, though roused 
 to hope and life by the sudden appearance of their country- 
 men, were neither released from bonds nor perils. Though 
 the savages fled, as described, from the charge of the white 
 men, there were some who remembered the prisoners, and 
 were resolved that they should never taste the sweets of 
 liberty. The beldam, who was still busy kindling the pile, 
 roused from her toil by the shouts of the enemy and the 
 shrieks of her flying people, looked up a moment; and 
 then, snatching at a knife dropped by some fugitive, rushed 
 upon Stackpole, who was nearest her, with a wild scream 
 of revenge. The horse-thief, avoiding the blow as well as 
 he could, saluted the hag with a furious kick, his feet 
 being entirely at liberty; and such was its violence that 
 the woman was tossed into the air, as if from the horns of 
 a bull, and then fell, stunned and apparently lifeless, to 
 perish in the flames she had kindled with her own breath. 
 
 A tall warrior, hatchet in hand, with a dozen more at his 
 back, rushed upon the Virginian. But before he could 
 strike, there came leaping with astonishing bounds over the 
 bodies of the wounded and dying, and into the circle of 
 fire, a figure that might have filled a better and braver war- 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 359 
 
 rior with dread. It was the medicine-man, and former 
 captive, the Indian habiliments and paint still on his body 
 and visage, though both were flecked and begrimed with 
 blood. In his left hand was a bundle of scalps, the same 
 he had taken from the tent of Wenonga ; the grizzled scalp- 
 lock of the chief, known by the vulture feathers, beak, and 
 talons still attached to it, was hanging to his girdle, while 
 the steel battle-axe, so often wielded by Wenonga, was 
 gleaming aloft in his right hand. 
 
 The savage recoiled, and with loud yells of "The Jibbe- 
 nainosay! the Jibbenainosay !" turned to fly, while even 
 those behind him staggered back at the apparition of the 
 destroyer, thus tangibly presented to their eyes; nor was 
 their awe lessened, when the supposed fiend, taking one 
 step after the retreating leader of the gang, drove the fatal 
 hatchet into his brain, with as lusty a whoop of victory as 
 ever came from the lungs of a warrior. At the same mo- 
 ment he was hidden from their eyes by a dozen horsemen 
 that came rushing up, with tremendous huzzas, some dart- 
 ing against the band, while others sprung from their horses 
 to liberate the prisoners. But this duty had been already 
 rendered, at least in the case of Captain Forrester. The 
 axe of Wenonga, dripping with blood to the hilt, divided 
 the rope at a single blowj and then Eoland's fingers were 
 crushed in the grasp of his preserver, as the latter ex- 
 claimed, with a strange, half-frantic chuckle of triumph 
 and delight: — 
 
 "Thee sees, friend ! Thee thought I had deserted thee ! 
 Truly, truly, thee was mistaken !" 
 
 "Hurrah for old Bloody Nathan ! I'll never say Q to a 
 Quaker agin, as long as I live!" exclaimed another voice, 
 broken, feeble, and vainly aiming to raise a huzza ; and the 
 speaker, seizing Nathan with one hand, while the other 
 grasped tremulously at Captain Forrester's, displayed to 
 the latter's eyes the visage of Tom Bruce the younger, pale, 
 sickly, emaciated, his once gigantic proportions wasted 
 away, and his whole appearance indicating any thing but 
 fitness for a field of battle, 
 
360 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "Strannger !" cried the youth, pressing the soldier's 
 hand with what strength he could, and laughing faintly, 
 "we've done the handsome thing by you, me and dad, thar's 
 no denying! But we went your security agin all sorts of 
 danngers in our beat; and thar's just the occasion. But 
 h'yar's dad to speak for himself; as for me, I rather think 
 breath's too short for wasting." 
 
 "Hurrah for Kentucky!" roared the colonel of the sta- 
 tion, as he sprang from his horse and seized the hand his 
 son had released, wringing and twisting it with a fury of 
 friendship and gratulation, which, at another moment, 
 ATOuld have caused the soldier to grin with pain. "H'yar 
 we are, captain !" he cried ; "picked you out of the yam- 
 bers ! — swore to f oiler you and young madam to the eend 
 of creation, — ^beat up for recruits, sung out 'Blue Lick' to 
 the people, roused the general from the Falls — whole army, 
 a thousand men: — double quick-step; — found Bloody Na- 
 than in the woods — whar's the creatur' ? — ^told of your 
 fixin'; beat to arms, flew ahead, licked the enemy, — and 
 ha'n't we exterminated 'em?" 
 
 With these hurried, half incoherent expressions, the gal- 
 lant Kentuckian explained, or endeavored to explain, the 
 mystery of his timely and most happy appearance; an 
 explanation, however, of which the soldier bewildered by 
 the whirl of events, the tumult of his ovm feelings, and 
 not less by the uproarious congratulations of his friends, of 
 whom the captain of horse-thieves, released from his post 
 of danger, was not the least noisy or affectionate, heard, or 
 understood, not a word. To these causes of confusion were 
 to be added the din and tumult of conflict, the screams of 
 the flying Indians, and the shouts of pursuing and oppos- 
 ing white men, rising from every point of the compass; 
 for from every point they seemed rushing in upon the foe, 
 whom they appeared to have completely environed. 
 
 Was there no other cause for the distraction of mind 
 which left the young soldier, while thus beset by friendly 
 hands artd ypices, incapaMg Pf giving them bis whole 
 
NICK OP THE ■WOODS. 361 
 
 attention? His thoughts were upon his kinswoman^ of 
 whose fate he was still in ignorance. 
 
 But before he could ask the question prompted by his 
 anxieties, it was answered by a cheery hurrah from Bruce's 
 youngest son, Kiehard, who came galloping into the square, 
 and up to the place of torture, whirling his cap into the 
 air, in. a frensy of boyish triumph and rapture. At his 
 heels, and mounted upon the steed so lately bestridden by 
 Braxley, the very animal, which, notwithstanding its un- 
 common swimming virtues, had left its master. Pardon 
 Dodge, at the bottom of Salt Eiver, was — could Eoland be- 
 lieve his eyes ? — ^the identical Pardon Dodge himself, look' 
 ing a hero, he was so begrimed with blood and gunpowder, 
 and whooping and hurrahing, as he came, with as much 
 spirit as if he had been born on the border, and accustomed 
 all his life to fighting Indians. 
 
 But Eoland did not wonder long at the unlooked-for 
 resurrection of his old ally of the ruin. In his arms, sus- 
 tained with an air of infinite pride and exultation, was an 
 apparition that blinded the Virginian's eyes to every other 
 object; — it was Edith Forrester, who, extending her own 
 arms, as the soldier sprang to meet her, leaped to his em- 
 brace with such wild cries of delight, such abandonment 
 of spirit to love and happiness, as stirred up many a wo- 
 manish emotion in the breast of the surrounding Ken- 
 tuekians. 
 
 "There !" cried Dodge, "there, capting ! Seed the ever- 
 lasting Injun feller carrying her off on the boss; knowed 
 the crittur at first sight ; took after, and brought the feller 
 to ; seed it was the young lady, and was jist as glad to find 
 her as to find my boss, — if I wa'n't, it a'n't no matter." 
 
 "Thar, dad!" cried Tom Bruce, grasping his father's 
 arm, and pointing, but with unsteady finger and glisten- 
 ing eye, at the two cousins, — "that, that's a sight worth 
 dying for!" with which words he fell suddenly to the 
 earth. 
 
 "Dying, you brute !" cried the father, in surprise and con- 
 cern J "ypn srVt had a bit, Toni ?" 
 
363 NICK OP THE "WOODS. 
 
 "'Not an iota," replied the youth, faintly, "except them 
 etarnal slugs I fetched from old Salt ; but, I reckon, they've 
 done for me; I felt 'em a dropping, a dropping inside, all 
 night. And so, father, if you'll jist say I've done as much 
 as my duty, I'll not make no fuss about going." 
 
 "Going, you brute!" iterated the father, clasping the 
 hand of his son, while the others, startled by the young 
 man's sudden fall, gathered around to offer help or to 
 gaze with alarm on his fast changing countenance ; "why, 
 Tom, my boy, you don't mean to make a die of it?" 
 
 "If — if you think I've done my duty to the strannger 
 and the young lady," said the young man; and added, 
 feebly pressing the father's hand, — "and to you, dad, — ^to 
 you and mother, and the rest of 'em." 
 
 "You have, Tom," said the colonel, with somewhat a 
 husky voice — "to the travelling strannger, to mother, father 
 and all " 
 
 "And to Kentucky?" murmured the dying youth. 
 
 "To Kentucky," replied the father. 
 
 "Well, then, it's no great matter. You'll jist put Dick 
 in my place; he's the true grit; thar'U be no mistake in 
 Dick, for all he's only a young blubbering boy; and then 
 it'll be jist all right as before. And it's my notion, 
 father " 
 
 "Well, Tom, what is it?" demanded Bruce, as the young 
 man paused, as if from mingled exhaustion and hesita- 
 tion. 
 
 "I don't mean no offence, father," said he — "but it's my 
 notion, if you'll never let a poor traveller go into the 
 woods without some dependable body to take care of 
 him " 
 
 "You're right, Tom; and I an't mad at you for saying 
 so ; and I won't." 
 
 "And don't let the boys abuse Bloody Nath'an, for, I 
 reckon, he'll fight, if you let him take it in his own way. 
 And, — and, father, don't mind Captain Ealph's stealing a 
 hoss or two out of our pound !" 
 
 "He may steal a lot pf 'em, the villain!" said Bruce, 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 3G3 
 
 shaking his head to dislodge the tears that were starting 
 in his eyes ; "and he shall be none the wuss of it." 
 
 "Well, father," — ^the young man spoke with greater ani- 
 mation, and with apparently reviving strength, — "and you 
 think we have pretty considerably licked the Injun's h'yar, 
 jiat now?" 
 
 "We have, Tom, — ^thar's no doubting it. And we'll 
 lick 'em over and over again, till they've had enough of 
 it." 
 
 "Hurrah for Kentucky !" cried the young man, exerting 
 his remaining strength to give energy to the cry, so often 
 uplifted, in succeeding years, among the wild woodlands 
 around. It was the last efforts of his sinking powers. He 
 fell back, pressed his father's and his brother's hands, and 
 almost immediately expired, — a victim not so much of his 
 wounds, which were not in themselves necessarily fatal, 
 nor perhaps even dangerous, had they been attended to, as 
 of the heroic efforts, so overpowering and destructive in his 
 disabled condition, which he had made to repair his father's 
 fault; for such he evidently esteemed the dismissing the 
 travellers from the station without sufficient guides and 
 protection. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 And Eetribution, of delay grown tir'd. 
 
 Hath smote the villains. — Anon. 
 
 Thus fell the young Kentuckian, a youth endeared to 
 all who knew him, by his courage and good humor; and 
 whose fall would, at a moment of less confusion, have 
 created a deep and melancholy sensation. But he fell 
 amid the roar and tempest of battle, when there was oc- 
 casion for other thoughts and other feelings than those of 
 mere individual grief. 
 
 The Indians had been driven from their village as de- 
 scribed, aiming not to fight but to fly; but being inter- 
 
364 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 cepted at all points by the assailants, and met, here by 
 furious volleys poured from the bushy sides of the hill, 
 there by charges of horsemen, galloping through the mea- 
 do^¥S and corn-fields, they were again driven back into the 
 town, where, in sheer desperation, they turned on their 
 foes to sell their lives as dearly as they might. 
 
 They were met at the edge of the village by a party of 
 horse and footmen that at first dislodged them, with whom, 
 being driven pell-mell among them by the shock of the in- 
 tercepting bands, they waged a fierce and bloody, but brief 
 conflict ; and still urged on by the assailants behind, fought 
 their way back to the square, which, deserted almost en- 
 tirely at the period of young Bruce's fall, was now sud- 
 denly seen, as he drew his last gasp, scattered over with 
 groups of men flying for their lives, or struggling to- 
 gether in mortal combat ; while the screams of terror-struck 
 women and children gave a double horror to the din. 
 
 The return of the battle to their own immediate vicinity 
 produced its efEects upon the few who had remained by 
 the dying youth. It fired, in especial, the blood of Cap- 
 tain Ealph, who, snatching up a fallen axe, rushed towards 
 the nearest combatants, roaring, by way of consolation, or 
 sympathy, to the bereaved father, "Don't take it hard, 
 eunnel, — I'll have a scalp for Tom's sake in no time !" 
 
 As for Bloody Nathan, he had disappeared long before, 
 with most of the horsemen who had galloped up to the stake 
 with the younger Bruce and his father, being evidently 
 too fiercely excited to remain idle any longer. The father 
 and brother of the deceased, the two cousins, and Pardon 
 Dodge, who lingered by the latter, still on his horse, as if 
 old companionship with the soldier, and the service just 
 rendered the maid, had attached him to all their interests, 
 were all that remained on the spot. But all were driven 
 from a contemplation of the dead as the surge of battle 
 again tossed its bloody spray into the square. 
 
 "Thar's no time for weeping," muttered Bruce, softly 
 laying the body of the youth (for Tom had expired in his 
 arms) upon the earth; "he died like a man, and thar's the 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 865 
 
 eend of it. Up, Dick, and stand by the lady — ^tliar's more 
 work for ns." 
 
 "Everlasting bad work, eunnel!" cried Dodge; "they're 
 a killing the squaws ! hark, dun't you hear 'em squeaking ? 
 Now, eunnel, I can kill your 'tarnal man fellers, for they've 
 riz my ebenezer, and I've kinder got my hand in; but I 
 rather ealkilate I han't no disposition to kill wimming !" 
 
 "Close round the lady!" shouted Bruce, as a sudden 
 movement in the mass of combatants, and the parting from 
 it of a dozen or more wild Indian figures, flying in their 
 confusion, for they were pursued by thrice their number 
 of white men, right towards the little party at the stake, 
 threatening the latter with unexpected danger. 
 
 "I'm the feller for ''em, now that my hand's in !" cried 
 Pardon Dodge ; and taking aim with his rifle, the only one 
 in the group that was charged, at the foremost of the In- 
 dians, he shot him dead on the spot, — a feat that instantly 
 removed all danger from the party; for the savages, yell- 
 ing at the fall of their leader, and the discovery of an- 
 tagonists thus drawn up in front, darted off to the right 
 hand at the wildest speed, as wildly pursued by the greater 
 number of Kentuckians. 
 
 And now it was that, as the wretched and defeated bar- 
 barians, scattering at Dodge's fire, fled from the spot, the 
 party at the stake beheld a sight well fitted to turn the 
 alarm they had for a moment felt on their own account, 
 into horror and pity. The savage shot down by Dodge was 
 instantly scalped by one of the pursuers, of whom five or 
 six others rushed upon another man — for a second of the 
 fugitives had fallen at the same moment, but only wounded, 
 — attacking him furiously with knives and hatchets, while 
 the poor wretch was seen with raised arms vainly beseech- 
 ing for quarter. As if this spectacle was not in itself 
 sufficiently pitiable, there was seen a girlish figure at the 
 man's side, struggling with the assailants, as if to throw 
 herself between them and their prey, and uttering the most 
 heart-piercing shrieks. 
 
 *'It is Telle Doe," shouted Forrester, leaping from his 
 
366 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 kinswoman's side, and rushing with the speed of light to 
 her assistance. He was followed, at almost as fleet a 
 step, by Colonel Bmce, who recognized the voice at the 
 same instant, and knew, by the ferocious cries of the men, 
 — "Kill the accursed tory ! kill the renegade villain !" that 
 it was the girl's apostate father, Abel Doe, who was dying 
 under their vengeful weapons. 
 
 "Hold, friends, hold !" cried Eoland, as he sprang amid 
 the infuriated Kentuckians. His interposition was for a 
 moment successful; surprise arrested the impending wea- 
 pons; and Doe, taking advantage of the pause, leaped to 
 his feet, ran a few yards, and then fell again to the ground. 
 
 "No quarter for turn-coats and traitors ! no mercy for 
 white Injuns !" cried the angry men, running again at 
 their prey. But Eoland was before them; and as he be- 
 strode the wounded man, the gigantic Bruce rushed up, 
 and catching the frensied daughter in his arms, exclaimed, 
 with tones of thunder, "Off, you perditioned brutes ! would 
 you kill the man before the eyes of his own natteral-born 
 daughter? Kill Injuns, you brutes, — thar's the meat for 
 you !" 
 
 "Hurrah for Gunnel Tom Bruce !" shouted the men in 
 reply; and satisfying their rage with direful execrations, 
 invoked upon "all white Injuns, and Injun white men," 
 they rushed away in pursuit of more legitimate objects of 
 hostility, if such were still to be found, — a thing not so 
 certain, for few Indian whoops were now mingled with 
 the white man's cry of victory. 
 
 In the meanwhile Eoland had endeavored to raise the 
 bleeding and mangled renegade to his feet; but in vain, 
 though assisted by the efforts of the unhappy wretch him- 
 self; who, raising his hands, as if to avert the blows of 
 an unrelenting enemy, ejaculated wildly, — "It ain't noth- 
 ing, — it's only for the gal — don't murder a father before 
 his own child." 
 
 "You are safe, — fear nothing," said Eoland, and at the 
 same moment poor Telle herself rushed into the dying 
 man's arms, crying, with tones that went to the Virginiaii's 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 36? 
 
 heart, — "They're gone, father, they're gone ! Now get up, 
 father, and they won't hurt you no more ; the good captain 
 has saved you, father ; they won't hurt you, they won't hurt 
 you no more." 
 
 "Is it the captain?" cried Doe, struggling again to rise, 
 while Bruce drew the girl gently from his arms: "Is it 
 the captain?" he repeated, bending his eager looks and 
 countenance, ghastly with wounds, upon the Virginian. 
 "They han't murdering you then? I'm glad on it, cap- 
 tain ; — I'll die easier, captain ! And the gal too ?" he ex- 
 claimed, as his eye fell upon Edith, who scarce knowing in 
 her horror what she did, but instinctively seeking the pro- 
 tection of her kinsman, had crept up to the group now 
 around the dying wretch — "It's all right, captain? But 
 where's Dick? where's Dick Braxley? You han't killed 
 him among you?" 
 
 "Think not of the villain," said Eoland; "I know 
 nought of him." 
 
 "I'm a dying man, captain," exclaimed Doe; "I know'd 
 this would be the end of it. If Dick's a prisoner, jist 
 bring him up and let me speak with him. It will be for 
 your good, captain." 
 
 "I know nothing of the scoundrel — ^think of yourself," 
 said the Virgiaian. 
 
 "Why, there, don't I see his red han'kercher !" cried 
 Doe, pointing to Dodge, who, from his horse, which he 
 had not yet deserted, perhaps, from fear of again losing 
 him, sat looking with soldier-like composure on the ex- 
 piring renegade, until made conscious that the shawl which 
 he had tied round his waist, somewhat in the manner of an 
 officer's sash, had become an object of interest to Doe and 
 all others present. 
 
 "I took it from the Injun feller," said he, with great 
 self-complacency, "the everlasting big rascal that was a 
 carrying off madam on my own hoss, and madam was jist 
 as dead as a piece of rock. I know'd the crittur, and sung 
 out to the feller to stop, and he wouldn't; and so I jist 
 blazed away at him, right bang at his back — knocked him 
 
368 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 over jist like a streak o' lightning, and had the scalp off 
 his 'tamal ugly head afore yon could say John Eobinson ! 
 — and all the while, madam was jist as dead as a piece of 
 rock. Here's the top-knot, and an ugly dirty top-knot it 
 is !" With which words the valiant Dodge displayed his 
 trophy, a scalp of black hair, yet reeking with blood. 
 
 A shiver passed through Edith's frame, she grasped her 
 cousin's arm to avoid falling, and with a countenance as 
 white and ghastly as countenance could be, exclaimed : — 
 
 "It was Braxley — It was he carried me off — ^but I knew 
 nothing — it was he ! Yes, it was he !" 
 
 "It warn't a white man?" cried Dodge, dropping his 
 prize in dismay; while even Eoland staggered with horror 
 at the thought of a fate so sudden and dreadful overtaking 
 his rival and enemy. 
 
 "Ha, ha !" cried the renegade, with a hideous attempt at 
 laughter ; "I told Dick the devil would have us ; but I had 
 no idea Dick would be the first afore him ! Shot — scalped 
 — sarved like a mere dog of an Injun ! Well, the game's 
 up at last, and we've both made our f ortun's ! Captain, 
 I've been a rascal all my life, and I die no better. You 
 wouldn't take my offer, captain — it's no matter." He 
 fumbled in his breast, and presently drew to light the will, 
 with which he so vainly strove the preceding night to effect 
 his object with Eoland; it was stained deeply with his 
 blood. "Take it, captain," he cried, "I give it to you 
 without axing tarms; I leave it to yourself, captain. But 
 you'll remember her, captain ? The gal, captain ! the gal ! 
 I leave it to yourself " 
 
 "She shall never want friend or protector/' said Eo- 
 land. 
 
 "Captain," murmured the renegade with his last breath, 
 and grasping the soldier's hand with his last convulsive 
 effort, "you're an honest feller ; I'll — yes, captain, I'll trust 
 you !" 
 
 These were the renegade's last words ; and before Bruce, 
 who muttered, half in reproach, half in kindness, "The 
 gal never wanted friend or protector till she fled from me, 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. ^<^^ 
 
 who was a father to her," could draw the sobbing daughter 
 away, the wretched instrument of a still more wretched 
 principal in villainy had followed his employer to his last 
 account. 
 
 In the meanwhile the struggle was over, the battle was 
 fought and won. The army — for such it was, being com- 
 manded in person by the hero of Kaskaskias,* the great 
 protector, and almost founder of the West — summoned in 
 haste to avenge the slaughter at the Blue Licks — a la- 
 mentable disaster, to which we have several times alluded, 
 although it was foreign to our purpose to venture more 
 than an allusion — and conducted with unexampled speed 
 against the Indian towns on the Miami, had struck a blow 
 which was destined long to be remembered by the Indians, 
 thus for the first time assailed in their own territory. 
 Consisting of volunteers well acquainted with the woods, 
 all well mounted and otherwise equipt, all familiar with 
 battle, and all burning for revenge, it had reached within 
 but ten or twelve miles of Wenonga's town, and within still 
 fewer of a smaller village, which it was the object of the 
 troops first to attack at sunset of the previous day, and en- 
 camped in the woods to allow man and horse, both well 
 nigh exhausted, a few hours' refreshment, previous to 
 marching upon the neighboring village ; when Nathan, fly- 
 ing with the scalp and arms of Wenonga in his hand, and 
 looking more like an infuriated madman than the inoffen- 
 sive man of peace he had been so long esteemed, suddenly 
 appeared amidst the vanguard, commanded by the gallant 
 Bruce, whom he instantly apprised of the condition of the 
 captives at Wenonga's town, and urged to attempt their 
 deliverance. 
 
 This was done, and with an effect which has been already 
 seen. The impetuosity of Bruce's men, doubly inflamed 
 by the example of the father and his eldest son, to whom 
 the rescue of their late guests was an object of scarce in- 
 ferior magnitude, even compared with the veangeance for 
 
 * Gen. George Rogers Clark. 
 
o'^O NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 v.'hich they burned in common with all others, had in some 
 measure defeated the hopes of the general, who sought, by 
 a proper disposition of his forces, completely to invest the 
 Indian village, so as to insure the destruction or capture 
 of every inhabitant. As it was, however, very few escaped ; 
 many were killed, and more, including all the women and 
 children (who, honest Dodge's misgivings to the contrary 
 notwithstanding, were in no instance designedly injured) 
 taken prisoners. And this, too, at an expense of but very 
 few lives lost on the part of the victors; the Indians at- 
 tempting resistance only when the fall of more than half 
 their numbers, and the presence of foes on every side, con- 
 vinced them that flight was wholly impracticable. 
 
 The victory was, indeed, so complete, and — as it ap- 
 peared that several bands of warriors from more distant 
 villages were in the town at the time of attack — the blow 
 inflicted upon the tribe so much severer than was antici- 
 pated even from a series of attacks upon several different 
 towns, as was at first designed, that the victors, satisfied 
 that they had done enough to convince the red-man of the 
 irresistible superiority of the Long-knife, satisfied, too, 
 perhaps, that the cheapness of the victory rendered it more 
 valuable than a greater triumph achieved at a greater loss, 
 gave up at once their original design of carrying the war 
 into other villages, and resolved to retrace their march to 
 the settlements. 
 
 But the triumph was not completed until the village, 
 with its fields of standing com, had been entirely destroyed, 
 a work of cruel vengeance, yet not so much of vengeance as 
 of policy; since the destruction of their fields, by driving 
 the savages to seek a winter's subsistence for their families 
 in the forest, necessarily prevented their making warlike 
 inroads upon their white neighbors during that season. 
 The maize-stalks, accordingly, soon fell before the knives 
 and hatchets of the Kentuekians ; while the wigwams were 
 given to the flames. When the last of the rude habitations 
 had fallen, crashing, to the earth, the victors began their 
 letreat towards the frontier; so that within a very few 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 3?1 
 
 hours after they first appeared, as if bursting from the 
 earth, amid the amazed barbarians, nothing remained 
 upon the place of conflict and site of a populous village 
 save scattered ruins and mangled corses. 
 
 Their own dead the invaders bore to a distance, and in- 
 terred in the deepest dens of the forest; and then, with 
 their prisoners, carried with them as the surest means of 
 inducing the tribe to beg for peace, in order to effect their 
 deliverance, they resumed the path, which in good time 
 led them again to the settlements. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Now our sands are almost run. 
 More a little, and then done. 
 
 — Pericles. 
 
 With the battle at the Black Vulture's town the interest 
 of our story ceases; and there it may be said to have its 
 end. The deliverance of the, cousins^ the one from cap- 
 Jility.a9i.-d£ath, the other from a fate to them more dread- 
 
 ^JuL tha2i_d£ath ; the restoration of the will of their_ uncle ; 
 
 _and the Jail. of ^ the daring and unprincipled villain, to 
 
 jyljose jcaaQhinations they owed all their calamities, had 
 changed jthejjujrent of their fortunes, which was now to 
 
 ,jGse„in,a jchaxmel where „the eye could no longer .trace ob- 
 structions. The last peal of thunder had dissipated the 
 clouds of adversity, and the star of their destiny shone out 
 with all its original lustre. The future was no longer one 
 of mere hope, it presented all the certainty of happiness of 
 which human existence is capable. 
 
 Such being the case, and our story having actually ar- 
 rived at its end, it would be a superfluous and unprofitable 
 task to pursue it further, were it not that other individuals, 
 whose interests were so long intermingled with those of the 
 cousins, have a claim upon our notice. And first, before 
 speaking of the most important of all, the warlike man of 
 
373 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 peace, the man-slaying hater of blood, the redoubtable Na- 
 than Slaughter — ^let us bestow a word upon honest Pardon 
 Dodge, whose sudden reappearance on the stage of life so 
 greatly astonished the young Virginian. 
 
 This resuscitation, however, as explained by Dodge him- 
 self, was after all, no such wonderful matter. Swept from 
 his horse by the violence of the flood, in the memorable 
 flight from the ruin, a happy accident had flung him upon 
 the raft of timber, that bordered the fatal chute; where, 
 not doubting that, from the fury of the current, all his 
 companions had perished, and that he was left. to contend 
 alone against the savages, he immediately sought a con- 
 cealment among the logs, in which he remained during the 
 remainder of the night and the greater part of the follow- 
 ing day, until pretty well assured the Indians were no 
 longer in his vicinity. Then, scaling the cliffy banks of 
 the river, and creeping through the woods, it was his good 
 fortune at last to stumble upon the clearings around 
 Bruce's station, at which he arrived soon after the de- 
 feated Eegulators had effected their return. 
 
 Here, having now lost his horse, arms, every thing but 
 life, having battled away also in the midnight siege some 
 of those terrors that made Indians and border life so hate- 
 ful to his imagination, and being perhaps seduced by the 
 hope of repairing his losses and revenging the injuries he 
 had suffered, he was easily persuaded to follow Colonel 
 Bruce, and the army of Kentuckians, to the Indian terri- 
 tory, where fate, through his arm, struck a blow so dread- 
 fully, yet retributively Just, at the head of the long-pros- 
 pering villain, the unprincipled and unremorseful Braxley. 
 
 It was mentioned, that when Nathan first burst upon the 
 astonished Bruce, where he lay with his vanguard, en- 
 camped in the woods, his appearance and demeanor were 
 rather those of a truculent madman, than of the simple- 
 minded, inoffensive creature he had so long appeared to 
 the eyes of all who knew him. His Indian garments and 
 decorations contributed somewhat to this effect; but the 
 man, it was soon seen, ^s more changed in spirit than in 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 373 
 
 outward attire. The bundle of scalps in his hand, the 
 single one, yet reeking with blood, at his belt, and the axe 
 of Wenonga, gory to the helve, and grasped with a hand 
 not less blood-stained, were not more remarkable evidences 
 of transformation than were manifested in his countenance, 
 deportment, and expressions. His eye beamed with a wild 
 excitement, with exultation mingled with fury; his step 
 was fierce, active, firm, and elastic, like that of a warrior 
 leaping through the measures of the war-dance; and when 
 he spoke, his words were of battle and bloodshed. He 
 flourished the axe of Wenonga, pointed grimly toward the 
 village, and while recounting the number of warriors who 
 lay therein waiting to be knocked on the head, he seemed, 
 judging his thoughts from his gestures, to be employed in 
 imagination in despatching them with his own hands. 
 
 When the march, after a hasty consultation, was agreed 
 upon and resumed, he, although on foot, maintained a posi- 
 tion at the head of the army, guiding it along with a readi- 
 ness and precision which argued extraordinary familiarity 
 with all the approaches to the village; and when the as- 
 sault was actually commenced, he was still among the fore- 
 most, as the reader has seen, to enter the village and the 
 square. To cut the bonds of the Virginian, and utter a 
 fervent expression of delight at his rescue, was not enough 
 to end the ferment in Nathan's mind. Leaving the Vir- 
 ginian immediately to the protection of the younger Bruce, 
 he rushed after the flying Indians, among whom he re- 
 mained fighting wherever the conflict was hottest, until 
 there remained no more enemies to encounter, achieving 
 such exploits as flUed all who beheld him with admiration 
 and amazement. 
 
 Kor did the fervor of his fury end altogether even with 
 the battle. He was among the most zealous in destroying 
 the Indian village, applying the fire with his own hands to 
 at least a dozen different wigwams, shouting with the most 
 savage exultation, as each burst into flames. 
 
 It was not indeed until the work of destruction was com- 
 pleted, the retreat commenced, and the army once more 
 
374 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 buried in the woods, that the demon which had thus taken 
 possession of his spirit, seemed inclined to relax its hold, 
 and restore him once more to his wits. It was then, how- 
 ever, that the remarks which all had now leisure to make 
 on his extraordinary transformation, the mingled jests and 
 commendations of which he found himself the theme, be- 
 gan to make an impression on his mind, and gradually 
 wake him as from a dream that had long mastered and dis- 
 tracted his faculties. The fire of military enthusiasm 
 flashed no more from his eyes, his step lost its bold spring 
 and confidence, he eyed those who so liberally heaped praise 
 on his lately acquired courage and heroic action, with un- 
 easiness, embarrassment, and dismay ; and cast his troubled 
 eyes around, as if in search of some friend capable of giv- 
 ing counsel and comfort in such case made and provided. 
 His looks fell upon little Peter, who had kept ever at his 
 side from the moment of his escape from the village, and 
 now trotted along with the deferential humility which be- 
 came him, while surrounded by so gallant and numerous an 
 assemblage; but even little Peter could not relieve him 
 from the weight of eulogy heaped on his head, nor from 
 the prickings of the conscience, while every word of praise 
 and every encomiastic huzza seemed stirring up his breast. 
 
 In this exigency, he caught sight of the Virginian — 
 mounted once more upon his own trusty Briareus, which 
 the younger Bruce had brought with him to the field of 
 battle, — and remembered on the sudden that he had not yet 
 made him acquainted with the important discovery of the 
 will, which he had so unexpectedly made in the village. 
 The younger soldier was riding side by side with his cousin, 
 for whom a palfrey had been easily provided from the In- 
 dian pound, and indulging with her many a joyous feeling 
 that their deliverance was so well suited to inspire ; but his 
 eye gleamed with double satisfaction, as he marked the 
 approach of his trusty associate and deliverer. 
 
 "We owe you life, fortune, every thing," he cried, ex- 
 tending his hand ; "and be assured, neither Edith nor my- 
 self will forget it. But how is this, Nathan?" he added, 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 375 
 
 with a smile, as he perceived the bundle of scalps, which 
 Nathan, in the confusion or absence of his mind, yet 
 dangled in his hands, — "you were not used so freely to 
 display the proofs of your prowess !" 
 
 "Friend," said Nathan, giving one look, ghastly with 
 sorrow and perturbation, to the shaking ringlets, another 
 to the youth, "thee looks upon locks that was once on the 
 heads of my children!" He thrust the bundle into his 
 bosom, and pointed with a look of inexpressible triumph to 
 that of Wenonga, hanging to his belt. "And here," he 
 muttered, "is the scalp of him that slew them! It is 
 enough, friend; thee has had my story — thee will not cen- 
 sure me. But, friend," he added, hastily, as if anxious to 
 revert to another subject; "I have a thing to say to thee, 
 which it concerns thee, and thee fair maid, thee cousin, to 
 know. There was a will, friend, — a true and lawful last 
 will and testament of thee deceased uncle, in which thee- 
 self and thee cousin was made the sole heirs of the same. 
 Truly, friend, I did take it from the breast of the villain 
 that plotted thee ruin; but, truly, it was taken from me 
 again, I know not how." 
 
 "I have it safe," said Eoland, displaying it for a mo- 
 ment, with great satisfaction, to Nathan's eyes. "It makes 
 me master of wealth, which you, Nathan, shall be the first 
 to share. You must leave this wild life of the border, and 
 go with me to Virginia." 
 
 "I, friend !" exclaimed Nathan, with a melancholy shake 
 of the head; "thee would not have me back in the settle- 
 ments, to scandalize them that is of my faith? No, frieiid; 
 my lot is cast in the woods, and thee must not ask me 
 again to leave them. And, friend, thee must not think I 
 have served thee for the lucre of money or gain ; for, truly, 
 these things is now to me as nothing. The meat that feeds 
 me, the skins that cover, the leaves that make my bed, are 
 all in the forest around me, to be mine when I want them ; 
 and what more can I desire? Yet, friend, if thee thinks 
 theeself obliged by whatever I have done for thee, I would 
 ask of thee one favor that thee can grant," 
 
3 '^6 NICK OF THE "WOODS. 
 
 "An hundred !" said the Virginian, warmly. 
 
 "Nay, friend," muttered Nathan, with both a warning 
 and beseeching look, "all that I ask is, that thee shall say 
 nothing of me that should scandalize and disparage the 
 faith to which I was born." 
 
 "I understand you," said Eoland, "and will remember 
 your wish." 
 
 "And now, friend," continued Nathan, "do thee take 
 theeself to the haunts of thee fellows, the habitations of 
 them that is honest and peaceful, — ^thee, and the good 
 maiden, thee cousin; for, truly, it is not well, neither for 
 thee nor for her — and especially for her, that is feeble and 
 fearful — ^to dwell nigh to where murdering Injuns 
 abound." 
 
 "Yet, go with us, good Nathan," said Edith, adding her 
 voice to the entreaties of her kinsman; "there shall be 
 none to abuse or find fault with you." 
 
 "Thee is a good maid," said Nathan, surveying her with 
 an interest that became mournful as he spoke. "When 
 thee goes back to thee father's house, thee will find them 
 that will gladden at thee coming, — and hearts will yearn 
 with joy over thee young and lovely looks. Thee will 
 smile upon them, and they will be happy. Such," he 
 added, with deep emotion, "such might have been my fate, 
 had the Injun axe spared me but a single child. But it 
 is not so; there is none left to look upon me with smiles 
 and rejoicing, — none to welcome me from the field and 
 the forest with the voice of love — no, truly, truly, there is 
 not one, — not one." 
 
 And as he spoke his voice faltered, his lip quivered, and 
 his whole countenance betrayed the workings of a be- 
 reaved and mourning spirit. 
 
 "Think not of this," said Eoland, deeply affected, as well 
 as his cousin, by this unexpected display of feeling in the 
 rude wanderer; "the gratitude of those you have so well 
 served shall be to you in place of a child's affection. We 
 will never forget our obligations. Come with us, Nathan, 
 — come with us," 
 
NICK OP THE WOODS. 37"? 
 
 But Nathan, ashamed of the weakness which he could 
 not resist, had turned away to conceal his emotion; and, 
 stalking silently off, with the ever-faithful Peter at his 
 heels, was soon hidden from their eyes. 
 
 "I will find some way to hring him round," said Eo- 
 land. "A braver heart, a truer friend, never served man 
 in time of need. I shall never enjoy ease of mind if I 
 find not some way to reward him, and some way I will." 
 
 But the Virginian never saw his wild comrade again. 
 Neither Nathan's habits nor inclinations carried him often 
 into the society of his fellow-men, where reproaches and ^ 
 abuse were sure to meet him. Insult and contumely were, 
 indeed, no longer to be dreaded by the unresisting wan- 
 derer, after the extraordinary proofs of courage which he 
 had that day given. But, apparently, he now found as 
 little to relish in encomiums passed on his valor, as in the 
 invectives to which he had been formerly exposed. He 
 stole away, therefore, into the woods, abandoning the army 
 altogether, and was no more seen during the march. 
 
 But Eoland did not doubt he should behold him again 
 at Bruce's station, where he soon found himself, with his 
 kinswoman, in safety; and where — now happily able to 
 return to the land of his birth and the home of his an- 
 cestors — he remained during a space of two or three weeks, 
 waiting the arrival of a strong band of Virginian rangers, 
 who (their term of military service on the frontier having 
 expired) were on the eve of returning to Virginia, and 
 with whom he designed seeking protection for his own little 
 party. 
 
 During all this period he impatiently awaited the re- 
 appearance of Nathan, but in vain; and as he was in- 
 formed, and, indeed, from Nathan's own admissions, knew 
 that the latter had no fixed place of abode, he saw that it 
 was equally vain to attempt hunting him up in the forest. 
 In short, he was compelled to depart on his homeward 
 journey, — a journey happily accomplished in safety, — 
 without again seeing him; but not until he had left with 
 the commander of the station a goodly store of such articles 
 
3V8 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 of comfort and necessity as he thought would prove ac- 
 ceptable to his solitary friend. 
 
 Nor did he depart without making others of his late 
 associates acquainted with his bounty. The pledge he had 
 given the dying renegade, he offered to redeem to the daugh- 
 ter, by bearing her with him to Virginia, and providing 
 her a secure home, under the protection of his cousin ; but 
 Telie preferring rather to remain in the family of Colonel 
 Bruce, who seemed to entertain for her a truly parental 
 affection, he took such steps as speedily converted the poor 
 dependent orphan into a person of almost wealth and con- 
 sequence. His bounty-grants and land- warrants he left 
 in the hands of Bruce, with instruments to locate them to 
 the best advantage in favor of the girl, to whom he as- 
 signed them with the proper legal formalities ; a few hun- 
 dred acres, however, being conveyed to Captain Ealph, and 
 the worthy Dodge, — of whom the latter had given over 
 all thought of returning to the Bay State, having, as he 
 said, "got his hand in to killing Injuns, and not caring a 
 fourpence ha'penny for the whole everlasting set of 
 them." 
 
 Thus settling up his accounts of gratitude, he joyously, 
 and with Edith still more joyous at his side, turned his 
 face towards the Bast and Virginia — ^towards Fellhallow 
 and home — to enjoy a fortune of happiness, to which the 
 memory of the few weeks of anguish and gloom passed in 
 the desert, only served to impart additional zest. 
 
 Nor did he, even in the tranquil life of enjoyment which 
 he was now enabled to lead, lose his interest in the in- 
 dividuals who had shared his perils and sufferings. His 
 inquiries, made wherever and whenever intelligence could 
 be obtained, were continued for many years, until, in fact, 
 the district and wilderness of Kentucky existed no more, 
 but were both merged in a State, too great and powerful 
 to be longer exposed to the inroads of savages. The in- 
 formation which he was able to glean in relation to the 
 several parties, was, however, uncertain and defective, the 
 means of intelligence being, at that early period, far from 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 379 
 
 satisfactory ; but such as "it was, we hasten to lay it before 
 the reader. 
 
 The worthy Colonel Bruce continued to live and flourish 
 with his station, which soon grew into a town of consider- 
 able note. The colonel himself, when last heard from, 
 was no longer a colonel, his good stars, his military services, 
 and, perhaps, the fervent prayers of his wife, having 
 transformed him, one happy day, into a gallant brigadier. 
 His son Dick trode in the footsteps, and grew into the 
 likeness of his brother Tom, being as brave and good- 
 humored, and far more fortunate; and Eoland heard, a 
 few years after his own departure from Kentucky, with 
 much satisfaction, that the youth was busily occupied, dur- 
 ing such intervals of peace as the Indians allowed, in clear- 
 ing and cultivating the lands bestowed on Telle Doe, whom 
 he had, though scarce yet out of his teens, taken to wife. 
 
 No very certain information was ever obtained in regard 
 to the fate of Pardon Dodge ; but there was every reason to 
 suppose he remairied in Kentucky, fighting Indians to the 
 last, having got so accustomed to that species of pastime, 
 as to feel easy while practising it. We are the more in- 
 clined to think that such was the case, as the name is not 
 yet extinct on the frontier, and one individual bearing it, 
 has, very recently, in one of the fiercest, though briefest of 
 Indian wars, covered it with immortal lustre. 
 
 Of Ealph Stackpole, the invader of Indian horse-pounds, 
 it was Captain Forrester's fortune to obtain more minute, 
 though, we are sorry to say, scarce more satisfactory intel- 
 ligence. The luck, good and bad together, which had dis- 
 tinguished Eoaring Ealph in all his relations with Eoland, 
 never, it seems, entirely deserted him. His improvident, 
 harum-scarum habits, had very soon deprived him of all 
 the advantages that might have resulted from the soldier's 
 munificent gift, and left him a landless, good-for-nothing, 
 yet contented vagabond as before. 
 
 With poverty returned sundry peculiar propensities, 
 which he had manifested in former days; so that Ealph 
 again lost savor in the nostrils of his acquaintance; and 
 
380 NICK OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the last time that Forrester heard of him he had got into 
 a difficulty, in some respects similar to that in the woods at 
 Salt Eiver, from which Eoland, at Edith's intercession, 
 had saved him. In a word, he was one day arraigned, be- 
 fore a county court in Kentucky, on a charge of horse-steal- 
 ing, and matters went hard against him, his many offences 
 in that line having steeled the hearts of all against him, 
 and the proofs of guilt, in this particular instance, being 
 both strong and manifold. 
 
 Many an angry and unpitying eye was bent upon the 
 unfortunate fellow, when his counsel rose to attempt a 
 defence, which he did in the following terms; "Gentle- 
 men of the jury," said the man of law, — "here is a man. 
 Captain Salph Stackpole, indicted before you on the charge 
 of stealing a horse; and the afEa'r is pretty considerably 
 proved on him." Here there was a murmur heard through- 
 out the court, evincing much approbation at the counsel's 
 frankness. "Gentlemen of the jury," continued the orator, 
 elevating his voice, "what I have to say in reply is, first, 
 that that man thar'. Captain Ealph Stackpole, did, in the 
 year seventeen seventy-nine, when this good state of Ken- 
 tucky, and particularly those parts adjacent to Bear's Grass 
 and the mouth thereof, where now stands the town of 
 LouisvUle, were overrun with yelping Injun-savages, — did, 
 I say, gentlemen, meet two Injun-savages in the woods on 
 Bear's Grass, and take their scalps, single-handed — a feat, 
 gentlemen of the jury, that an't to be performed every day 
 even in Kentucky!" — Here there was considerable tumult 
 in the court, and several persons began to swear. — "Sec- 
 ondly, gentlemen of the jury," exclaimed the attorney-at- 
 law, with a still louder voice, "what I have to say secondly, 
 gentlemen of the jury, is, that this same identical prisoner 
 at the bar. Captain Ealph Stackpole, did, on another occa- 
 sion, in the year seventeen eighty-two, meet another Injun- 
 savage in the woods, — a savage armed with rifle, knife, 
 and tomahawk, — and met him with — ^j'ou suppose, gentle- 
 men, with gun, axe, and scalper, in like manner? — No, 
 gentlemen of the jury ! — with his fists, and" (with a voice 
 
NICK OF THE WOODS. 381 
 
 of thunder) "licked him to death in the natural way! 
 Gentlemen of the jury, pass upon the prisoner, — ^guilty, or 
 not guilty?" 
 
 The attorney resumed his seat; his arguments were irre- 
 sistible. The jurors started up in their box, and roared out 
 to a man, "Not guilty!" 
 
 Prom that moment, it may be supposed, Eoaring Ealph 
 could steal horses at his pleasure. Nevertheless, it seems, 
 he immediately lost his appetite for horseflesh ; and, leav- 
 ing the land altogether, he betook himself to a more con- 
 genial element, launched his broad-horn on the narrow 
 bosom of the Salt, and was soon afterwards transformed 
 into a Mississippi alligator; in which amphibious condi- 
 tion, we presume he roared on till the day of his death. 
 
 As for the valiant Nathan Slaughter — the last of the 
 list of worthies after whom the young Virginian so often 
 inquired — ^less was discovered in relation to his fate than 
 that of the others. A month, or more, perhaps, after Eo- 
 land's departure, he re-appeared at Bruce's station, where 
 he was twice or thrice again seen. But, whether it was 
 that, as we have once before hinted, he found the cheers 
 and hearty hurrahs in token of respect for his valiant deeds 
 at Wenonga's town, with which Bruce's people received 
 him, more embarrassing and offensive than the flings and 
 sarcasms with which they used in former days to greet his 
 appearance, or whether he had some still more stirring 
 reason for deserting the neighborhood, it is certain that 
 he, in a short time, left the vicinity of Salt Eiver alto- 
 gether, going no man knew whither. He went, and with 
 him his still inseparable friend, little dog Peter. 
 
 From that moment, the Jibbenainosay ceased to frequent 
 his accustomed haunts in the forest; the phantom Nick 
 of the Woods was never more beheld stalking through the 
 gloom, nor was his fearful cross ever again seen traced on 
 the breast of ^ slaughtered Indian. 
 
 yHfl UW, 
 
Go&d Fiction l?i^ortii Reading. 
 
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 A COLONIAL FREE-LANCE. A story of American Colonial Times. By 
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 IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING. A Romance of the American Revolution. 
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 GARTHOWEN. A story of a Welsh Homestead. By Allen Raine. Cloth, 
 
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 MIFANWY, The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allan Raine. Cloth, 
 
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 ^or Bale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the pnV 
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Good Fictioii Worth Reading. 
 
 A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field 
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 ' DARNLEY. A Romance of the times of Henry Vin. and Cardinal Wolsey 
 By G, P. R. James. Cloth, lamo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis 
 3£^ce,$i.oo. 
 
 I In point of publication, "Damley" is that work by Mr. Jamee which 
 follows "Richelieu," and. If rumor can be credited, it was owing to the ad- 
 V'ice and insistence of our own Washington Irving that we are indebted 
 primarily for the story, the young author questioning whether he could 
 properly paint the difference in the characters of the two great cardinals, l 
 And it is not surprising that James should have hesitated; be had beeol 
 eminently successful In giving to the world the portrait of Blchelieu as ^ff 
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 much like tempting fortune. Irving insisted that "Darnley" came natur- 
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 the author set about the work. 
 
 As a historical romance *'Darnley" is a book that can be taken up 
 pleasurably again and again, for there is about it that subtle charm whict, 
 thoBft who are strangerb to the works of G. P. R. James have claimed was 
 only to be Imparted by Dumas. 
 
 If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial attention, 
 the account of the meeting of the kings on the historic "field of the cloth ot 
 rold" would entitle the story to the most favorable consideration of every 
 reader. 
 
 There is really but little pure romance In this story, for the author hat 
 taken care to imagine love passages only between those whom history ba* 
 credited with having entertained the tender passion one for another, and 
 he succeeds in making such lovers as all the world must love. 
 
 CAPTAIN BRAND, OP THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE. By I,ieut. 
 Heniy A. Wise, U.S. N. (Harry Gringo), Cloth, i2mo. with four illustra* 
 tions tjy J. Watson Davis. Price, $i.oo. 
 
 The re-publicatlon of this story will please those lovers of sea yami 
 who delight in so much of the salty flavor of the ocean as can come through 
 the medium of a printed page, for never has a story of the sea and thosH 
 "who go down in ships" been written by one more familiar with the scene# 
 depicted. 
 
 The one book of this gifted author which Is best remembered, and which 
 will be read with pleasure for many years to come, is "Captain Brand." 
 who, as the author states on his title page, was a "pirate of eminence in 
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 never been excdled^ and as a story of piratical life, told without the usual 
 tcmbelUshmentB of blood and thunder, it has no equal. 
 
 j NICK OF THE WOODS- A story of the ^rly Settlers of Kentucky. By 
 I Robert Montgomery Bird. Cloth, lamo. with four iliustraitions by J. Watson 
 Davis. Price, ^i.oo. 
 
 This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier life In 
 Kentucky was originally published In the year 1837. The novel, long out of 
 print, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for its realistic presentation of 
 Indian and frontier life in the early days of settlement in the South, nar- 
 rated in the tale with all the art of a practiced writer. A very charming 
 love romance runs through the story. This new and tasteful edition of 
 "Nick of the Woods'* will be certain to make many new admirers for 
 this enehantlng story from Dr. Bird's clever and versatile pen. 
 
 For sale by all booksellerB, or sent postpaid on receipt of pries by the pulj? 
 
Good Fiction Wortli Reading. 
 
 A seriea of romances containing several of tlie old favorites in the field 
 of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy 
 that axcel in thrilling and absorbing interest. 
 
 GUY FAWKES, A Romance of the Gunpowder Tr*Mson. By Wm. Harri- 
 son Ainsworth. Cloth, laino. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. 
 » *?rice, ^i.oo, 
 
 I 
 
 .' The "Gunpowder Plot" was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament, 
 the King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England. 
 was weak-minded and extravagant He hit upon the efficient scheme ot 
 'extorting money from the people by Imposing taxes on the Catholics. In 
 their natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits oon- 
 "Cluded to overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were arrested, 
 and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other prisoners with 
 royal vigor. A very Intense love atory runs through the entire romance. 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER. A Romance of the Early Settlers in the 
 Ohio Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, izmo. with four illustrations by J. Watson 
 Davis. Price, $i .00. 
 
 A book rather out of the ordinary Is this "Spirit of tn© Border." The 
 main thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian mis- 
 sionaries in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given details of tht. 
 frontier life of those hardy ploneera who broke the wilderness for the plant- 
 ing of this great nation. Chief among these, as a matter of eourse, is 
 liewls Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and at the same time the most 
 admirable of all the brave men who spent their lives battling with the 
 savage foe, that others might dwell in comparative security. 
 
 Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian "Village 
 of Peace" are given at some length, and with minute description. The 
 efforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have been 
 before, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders of the 
 several Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be of interest to 
 the student. 
 
 By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivfd word- 
 pictures of the thrllllDg a,dventures, and the Intense paintings of the beau- 
 ties of nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests. 
 
 It Is the spirit of the frontier which Is described, and one can by It, 
 perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly braved 
 every privation and danger that the westward progress of the star of em- 
 pire might be the more certain and rapid. A love story, simple and tender*, 
 runs through the book. 
 
 RICHELIEU. A tale of France in the reign of King I/3uis Xm. By G. P, 
 R. James, Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $z.oo. 
 
 In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance. "Richelieu,** and waB 
 recognized at once as one of the masters of the craft. 
 
 In this book he laid the story during those later days of the great car- 
 dinal's life, when his power was beginning to wane, but while it wae 
 yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanic outbursts which, 
 overwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmost wave of prosperity. 
 One of the most striking portions of the story Is that of Cinq Mar's conspir- 
 acy; the method of conducting criminal cases, and the political trickery 
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 It is a powerful romance of love and diplomacy, and 1p. point of thrUUi^ 
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 |^>r sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by t£i*fmb> 
 lishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 53-58 Duane St., NvwYoffi, 
 
Good Fiction Worth Reading. 
 
 A series of romances containlnc: several of the old favorites in the field 
 of historical fiction, replete with powerfal romances of love and diplomacy 
 that excel in thrilling and absorbinf interest. 
 
 WINDSOR CASTLE. A Historical Romance of the Rei^ of Henry VHI., 
 Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 
 lamo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $i.oo. 
 
 "Windsor Caatle" Is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and Anne 
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 and Anne Boleyn was forced to the block to make room for her successor. 
 This romance is one of extreme interest to all readers. 
 
 HORSESHOE ROBINSON. A tale of the Tory Ascendency in South Caro- 
 lina in 1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. 
 Watson Davis. Price, $i.oo. 
 
 Among the old favorites in the field of what Is known as historical Ac- 
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 The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the thread 
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 price In blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as their share In the 
 winning of the republic. 
 
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 have tried vainly in these latter days to procure a eopy that they might 
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 THE PEARL OP ORR'S ISLAND. A story of the Coast of Maine. By 
 
 Harriet Beecher Stowe. Cloth, i2mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
 
 Written prior to 1862, the "Pearl of Orr's Island" is ever new; a book 
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 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the pub* 
 Usben, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 50-58 Duane St.. New York.