University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

—Thomson's Seasons.

Day had fully dawned, and some crimson-tinted clouds were even
announcing that the sun was not far below the horizon, when
Henrich, awaking from sleep, bounded suddenly to his feet, alarmed
at the very profoundness of his repose, and at the conjectured evils
which might have occurred during its continuance. His first glance
was at the boat, where the closely enveloped figures of the ladies
were quietly reposing, and his next at the sentinel who remained
motionless at his post, with no signs of weariness or impatience.

“Your watch has been undisturbed?” he said, hastily approaching
the Huron, “and you have discovered no traces of the count
and his party; is it so?”

It was with a look almost of affection that the Indian's eyes
encountered those of his young friend and deliverer, and for a
moment he seemed dwelling in memory upon the events of the
preceding day:

“There has been no harm,” he said; “a wolf howled from the
hill,” pointing to a projection of the bank near the sleepers—“and
a wild-cat leaped over the boat, but I clapped my hands, and they
ran away.”

“Is it possible?” exclaimed Henrich, glancing at the ladies, “that

they have been exposed to perils like these? they must not know
it, or they will even yet die of terror. But the count,—learn you
aught of him?”

“He has gone home,” replied the Huron, bitterly, pointing at the
same time to a tree at a little distance from where they stood; “see,
the Algonquin has said it; my white brother can read!”

Henrich was not usually disposed to doubt his scholarship in the
particular named, but he found himself not a little puzzled on
approaching the tree, to construe the simple tokens it contained, nor
was it without the aid of the Lynx that he fully comprehended
them.

“Here is an arrow fixed in the bark, pointing to the north,” he
said,—“that is plain enough; somebody has gone in that direction;
stay, here are six notches on it, one considerably in advance of the
others; that I suppose means that the whole party have gone, consisting
of five men and their leader; but why does the arrow point
upward as well as northward?” he said, addressing the Huron;
“they certainly have not gone through the air.”

“They have gone a great way,” answered the Lynx.

“Ah, yes, I am dull—that signifies a distant destination very
plainly,” Henrich replied, or rather muttered to himself; “and it is
partly broken here in the middle, I suppose, to show that the object
of the expedition is defeated or abandoned?”

“Right,” said the Huron; “my brother can read the language
of the red men: does he see anything more?”

“The tree is blazed a little here on the north side with a hatchet,”
replied Huntington, “and there are a few rude marks, but I can
make nothing of them: here is a new moon down in one corner;
and there is something like a face, with a hand before it; if it is
designed for a likeness of your friend, I don't envy him his beauty.”

“My brother must go to school,” said the Indian smiling,—“he
cannot read; see, the moon was setting when they started, and the
Algonquin was ashamed!”

The symbols which have been described were of the coarsest
kind, and such as may have been prepared almost within the time
which has been consumed in reading the brief description of them;
yet, they preserved a general accuracy of outline that spoke well for
the artistical talents of the savage. That they reflected still more
credit upon his heart, need scarcely be said, since, being compelled
thus to desert a friend in the land of their common enemy, he
sought by these means to enable the other still to overtake and
rejoin his companions; and there was little doubt that every halting-place
on his homeward journey would bear evidence of the same
generous design.

“The moon was setting when they started, do you say?” asked
Henrich; “it must have been, then, but a few hours before our
arrival; if we had known it we might have overtaken them, and
might possibly do so, even yet.”

The Huron had longed for this proposition, though he had but
little hopes that the ladies would accede to it; a love of truth, however,
would not permit him to hold out any false hopes of success;
the canoes, he said, were swifter than the skiff, and had already six
hours the start; but the count made many pauses, and lost much
time in frequently crossing the river at the least alarm.

“But the sun is moving, while we stand still,” he continued,
pointing to the eastern horizon, where the orb of day was just
beginning to appear,—“let the daughter of the great chief speak—
the Lynx must obey.”

“You are right; no time must be lost, if we are to proceed,”
answered Henrich; “go waken them, and we will decide the question
with a full council board.”

“We will spare you that trouble, gentlemen, or sachems,” exclaimed
the laughing voice of Blanche, at their side; “we have been up
these three minutes, and Emily has even found a rivulet in the rocks,
in which she is making her ablutions, and of which I am to have the

second privilege; I dare say we shall have breakfast ready in a
trice: what would you please to order?”

“I do not know, really,” said Henrich, “a grilled screech-owl
might not be amiss, or a few frogs from the creek: if these cannot
be procured, we must try to content ourselves with the commoner
dainties of ham, bread, and pastry, with which my good grandmother
has so liberally supplied us.”

“Many thanks, then, for her kindness,” Blanche replied; “I really
supposed all our hopes of a meal depended upon finding Count
Carlton's larder: is anything yet learned in regard to his
movements?”

“Everything,” answered Huntington; “the Lynx has received a
letter from an Algonquin Indian who belonged to his company.”

“A letter from an Indian!—how written?—and by what post?
Surely you are jesting.”

“By this post,” Henrich added, pointing to the tree at their side,
“and if I have rightly followed the direction of your eyes, they have
already discovered it.”

“I see a broken arrow which seems to have been caught in the
crevices of the bark,” the young lady answered with an earnest air:
“if there is any meaning in it, tell me, I pray, without delay: are
our friends at hand?”

“I grieve to say they are gone, Miss Montaigne: they started last
evening for home, but two hours before our arrival—see, here is the
proof.”

Henrich proceeded to explain the various symbols before them to
the great astonishment of Blanche, whose extreme interest in the
information left her little thought for the ingenuity displayed in
conveying it.

“And is it possible, Mr. Huntington,” she said, “that this intelligence,
which seems to be indebted to an active imagination for half
its meaning, can be relied on—can be the proper basis of any
action?”

“It is as reliable as ever were general orders under the sign-manual
of the Baron Montaigne,” answered the young man promptly;
“I would venture my life on its accuracy; the Lynx has not thought
it necessary even to look for any corroborative testimony, and only
waits your decision as to your wishes.”

“What can I decide? what ought I to do?” she asked, looking
imploringly, and with an alarmed air upon Huntington—“Surely,
surely we cannot continue our journey, with only yourself and the Lynx
for our protectors; nothing, indeed, but my father's injunctions
would have induced me to attempt it, even with the larger escort
which we anticipated. There can be but slight hope of overtaking
the count if we should follow him, and it only remains to return to
the city: what think you, Mr. Huntington, does not prudence
demand such a course, and have I not done all that duty requires
in trying to meet the wishes of my father?”

“You certainly have discharged your full duty, Miss Montaigne,
if I can correctly estimate your position,” Henrich answered, “and
prudence, as you say, forbids the thought of attempting to travel to
Castle Montaigne, with so slight a guard; yet I own that I speak
with the bias of a strong wish for your return to New York. The
Huron thinks there would be a chance of our overtaking his late
companions, but scarcely claims it, I believe, to be very probable.”

“Doubtless, we must return,” said Blanche, “yet we will leave
nothing in reason, undone; it is early, and the day will be long; if
you please, therefore, and the Lynx is willing—”

“You command this company, Miss Montaigne,” said Henrich,
smiling, “please to speak in the imperative mood; no eastern despot
has a more willing slave than the Huron seems disposed to be to
you,—and I, you know, am his brother.”

“You honor me overmuch. The Sultaness, then, if you will have
it so, will proceed in her barge up the river for the space of three or
four hours; if within that time no trace of our recusant subjects can
be found, we will return and abandon the search. The count, you

know,” she continued, dropping her assumed air, “may have
encamped on the shore, and may discover us from his hiding-place;
he may not think it prudent to travel by daylight so near the
English capital.”

The plan of action being once settled, no time was lost in carrying
it out; the boat was re-transferred to the creek, and, within
a few minutes, the whole company embarked, not a little elated with
the novelty and interest of the occasion. The morning was fine
and the air exhilarating, and there were many conspiring causes to
throw joy and gladness into young and confident hearts, buoyant
with a thousand indefinite yet brilliant hopes. They dropped
quietly down the glassy stream, and into the broad blue river,
greeted by the early song of birds, and catching the fragrance of a
thousand flowers; while the voice of the chirruping squirrel, and the
tapping of the busy woodpecker, and the far faint voice of the wary
crow, and now and then the crashing tread of some larger animal,
startled from his repose, told that the forests were alive with their
countless varieties of existence; aye, and all were happy, and were
proclaiming to the dull eye and ear of man, plainer than printed
tomes or sounding speech, the one great beneficent Author of
Nature.