University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
THE ESCAPE AND ALARM.

Four Indian braves, selected for their keen watchfulness and
tried courage, were set as guard over the prisoners doomed to die
on the morrow. They were armed with knives, tomahawks, and
muskets; and were so placed, that the slightest movement of either
of the captives could be seen. But this last precaution seemed unnecessary;
for the latter were so tightly and securely bound, that to
move at all was next to an impossibility. They were all placed
separately in a row, and every man was bound hand and foot, with
a strong ligament around his neck and attached to a stake near his
head. Two torches stuck in the ground, on either side, cast a

ruddy gleam over their dark figures, and showed the swarthy,
painted, and repulsive persons of the guard standing over them
with that untiring vigilance for which the Indian is so remarkable.

It was perhaps two hours from the release of the female captives,
as recorded in the foregoing chapter, that a noise outside of the
council-house drew the attention of the guard to that quarter. As
the noise continued near the entrance, one of the young warriors
leveled his musket, and challenged in his native tongue. At the
same moment, the skin was pushed rudely aside, and Posetha staggered
into the council-house, holding in one hand a small canteen,
which he seemed in vain trying to get to his lips, with a drunken
gravity truly ludicrous. The Indian that had pointed his musket at
the intruder, now elevated the muzzle, and indulged in a silent
laugh—a proceeding in which his companions also joined.

Posetha, apparently not aware where he was, but winking violently
from the effects of the light on his eyes, continued to stagger forward,
still trying to bring the canteen to his lips, but, from the unsteadiness
of hand and body, not being able to succeed in his purpose.
At length he came to a sudden halt—that is to say a drunken
man's halt—and balancing himself as best he could, stared curiously
upon the guard, whom he now seemingly beheld for the first
time.

“What are you doing here?” he said, in Shawnee, accompanying
his remarks with the usual number of hiccups, and flourishing
his canteen with the comical gestures of an intoxicated man endeavoring
to appear very wise and dignified. “I say what are you
doing here all drunk as beasts? go home, and get sober! and take
a sensible friend's advice, and don't ever taste liquor again.”

Again the guard laughed, and one of them said: “What are
you doing here, Posetha!—what have you got in that canteen?”

“Poison,” answered the other, fumbling about his dress for a
place to hide it, as if afraid it would be taken from him. “Yes,
poison,” he repeated, beginning to stagger back, as if with the intention
of making his escape. “Yes, yes, it wouldn't be good for
you—it would make you sick—and so Posetha will take care of
it.”

“Let us try if it will make us sick,” laughed the young Indian,
approaching the drunken man, and extending his hand, as if to
seize it.

“No, no, no!” returned Posetha, with drunken eagerness, fumbling
more than ever under his scanty garments, and retreating all
the time toward the door. “No, no, no!” he repeated dropping
the canteen on the ground, and, apparently unconscious of it,
continuing his retreat, with quickened, but still unsteady, steps.
“It isn't good for ye—its poison—it would kill ye;” and as the
last words were uttered, he made a sudden lurch toward the door-way,

missed it, and fell sprawling on the earth, where he lay as if
stunned.

The Indians laughed heartily, as they passed the canteen round,
each taking some three or four large draughts, and smacking their
lips with true relish. This emptied the flask, which was now cast
toward Posetha, with good-humored derision, and the guard resumed
their places near the prisoners.

Then it was, reader, had you been near enough for the purpose,
you might have seen, in the dark eyes of Posetha, as he still lay
extended where he fell, a gleam of intelligence, of malicious triumph,
such as the eyes of no really drunken man could by any
possibility send forth. And the meaning of this peculiar look was
soon apparent; for after the lapse of a few minutes, the heads of
the guard, in spite of their efforts to the contrary, began to nod and
droop; and in the course of five minutes more, they themselves
dropped down in their places, unconscious of every thing around
them.

The moment Posetha witnessed this, he sprang to his feet, and
gliding forward with the stealthy tread of that feline animal from
which, and for this reason, he had received his appellation, he approached
the prostrate warriors, and bending down, examined each
closely, and then carefully withdrew their arms. All this, or as
much of it as their peculiar positions would allow, was witnessed
by the prisoners, with emotions of hope and joy impossible for us to
describe, but with a cautious silence that spoke volumes in favor of
their great presence of mind. The hope of liberty, and the fear
of failure, caused the blood to alternate between the head and
heart, and they in consequence experienced an acute sense of
suffocation.

The instant Posetha satisfied himself the guard were safe, and
deprived of all their weapons, he drew his knife, and with a rapidity
that threatened injury to the captives, severed the thongs that
bound them.

“Brother,” he now whispered, in Shawnee, to Harry Miller,
“tell your friends to be silent, and speedy, and follow me. If they
speak, or make the least noise, all will be lost. I will go before
and lead the way; but the moment I halt, let all sink to the earth,
and remain so till they hear my signal.”

“Thou art worthy to be my brother, Christopher,” returned
Harry, brushing a tear from his eye; and it seems just as if Heaven
discovered you to me for the Providential preservation of our
lives.”

He then hurriedly informed the others what Posetha had said,
and urged an immediate departure. The force of his words were
felt; but unfortunately it was impossible to comply with his request,
owing to a want of circulation of blood in their limbs, particularly
their legs, from being so long and tightly corded. By quick and

vigorous rubbings, however, urged with the desperation of men
straining every nerve for life, our friends soon had the satisfaction
of finding themselves able to stand, and even walk. The arms of
the guard were then distributed among them; and extinguishing
the torches, the whole party followed Posetha through the door of
the council house, and once more breathed the open air of freedom,
though surrounded by dangers the most imminent. With a
quick but stealthy step, Posetha led the way through the least frequented
and most thinly settled portion of the village, and in the
course of ten minutes our friends had the satisfaction of seeing the
last hut left behind them.

It may seem a little surprising to the reader, that two parties
should thus have been enabled to leave the town in the dead hours
of night, without any disturbance from the dogs; but when we inform
him, that all the canine animals which had escaped the deadly
drug of Carnele, had been poisoned by Posetha in like manner,
there will, we trust, no longer be any mystery.

A little distance from the village, the party came to a large enclosure,
full of horses. Posetha now informed our friends, through
his brother, that they were about to engage in a bold and hazardous
adventure, which, if successful, would place them in safety,
but that there was great danger of creating an alarm, in which case
it was impossible to tell what would be the result, though in all
probability it would either be death or captivity, and that the fate
of himself, as a traitor to the Indians, would be even worse than
their own, if, indeed, such a thing were possible.

“Well, replied the Colonel, firmly, “it may be death—I cannot
say—but as for myself, I will never again be taken alive by these
inhuman red-skins. Oh! my wife and child! my wife and child!
if they were only free—if I could only know they were in safety—
it now seems to me I could endure any fate; but alas! alas! I fear
it is useless to hope, But can we not make another effort to save
them?” he added, eagerly. “What say you, my brave comrades?”

“We can, we must,” returned Edward; “at least I for one will
go, and either liberate them, or die in the attempt.”

“Ay, ay, we may as well-die now as any time,” put in Wilkes.
“Come, Posetha must know something of their whereabouts—let
us consult him.”

“Yes, yes, a good idea,” chimed in Edward. “But where is
he?” he asked, looking around, and addressing his brother, who
stood near.

“He's scouting round the enclosure, to find out if there's any
Indian sentinels about; and, if so, where they're posted,” answered
the other.

“Well, ef I mought just open my jaws agin, arter havin' on
'em shut for sich a infernal long time, by them thar red-niggers,

as don't know a B from a buzzard,” put in Carnele, who really
spoke for the first time since his capture, “I mought jest say to you
hot-headed gintlemen, that ef you think o' going back into these
here bloodhound's den, to hunt for women, this night, with any
hope o' gittin' them away, you're ayther downright mad, or thunderin'
sight bigger fools nor ever old John tuk ye for, that's all.”

“Well, then, what do you advise, Carnele?” queried the Colonel.
“You must recollect that the friends we have in captivity
are even dearer to us than our own lives; and hence, we would
willingly lay down our lives to save them. You, of course, have
no such urgent reasons for again putting yourself in jeopardy; and,
therefore, I cannot blame you, if you refuse to return on such a
hopeless adventure; but as for myself I am resolved, come what
may, I will not go hence without them.”

“Nor I,” said Edward.

“Nor I,” echoed Wilkes.

“Now, ef you think what I said, was said because 'o my being
afeard to go back with you,” rejoined the old scout, “then I've
jest got to tell you, that ef you know a heap more'n I do, thar's
one thing you don't know, and that's John Carnele, and nothin'
else. No, Cunnel Danforth, thar's not a man, boy, red-nigger or
black, that you could skeer up atween daylight and sundown, that
'ud risk more'n I would, ef I thought as how any good 'ud come
en't; but what's the use 'o your gittin' killed outright, or captur'd
and burnt at the stake, jest to show yourself manly-like? Eh! tell
me that? D'ye think your wife and child 'ud be any the better
for't, eh!”

“We run our risks, of course,” replied the Colonel, “and if
Providence will that we die in the bold attempt, we shall at least
have the consolation of knowing we have done our duty, as soldiers
and men.”

“Yes, that may be powerful consolin' to you; but do ye think it
'ud be so to the women? that's the question.”

“But it is possible we might succeed,” interrupted Edward.
“We run a great risk, of course; but we are not certain of failure;
and we are certain, that unless the trial be made, those we love
will remain in captivity worse than death. There is an old saying,
that if one waits to have all objections first removed, he will never
enter upon any great undertaking.”

“Well, ef you're determined on goin',” replied Carnele, “here's
what'll go along; for nobody never knowed John Carnele desart a
friend in need; but I'll tell ye one thing, and that's as true as
that we've been in the red-nigger's hands; and that is, ef we go,
we'll never come back; and so we mought as well say our prayers,
look to heaven, and bid good-by to airth.”

“But why are ye so positive on this point?” asked Wilkes. “It
seems you forget we have once made the trial already.'

“No, it's you that forgit—or ef you remember it, it don't seem
to do ye much good. You won't say you succeeded that time, I
reckon.”

“But we might, only for my imprudence,” put in Edward.
“Had I followed your directions, friend Carnele, as I should have
done, doubtless our friends and ourselves would now be in safety,
beyond the reach of savages.”

“I don't know 'bout it, Major—I don't know 'bout it; we
mought, and then agin we moughn't; but I know we had a better
chance then nor we'll ever hev agin, leastwise for the pres nt. Now
ef it was men—old Injen hunters—we was goin' to git out o' deficulty,
thar mought be some chance; for with thar exper'ence in
such affares, they'd know enough to hold thar tongues at the right
time; and when once they was free, they'd add so much strength
to our party, instead o' weakening it like women would. And,
besides, thar's no use in thinkin' as how a feller and a gal as loves
one and tother, is ever agoin' to keep their mouths shut when they
once git together. The thing arn't in reason, kase it's agin natur,
and thar's the upshot of the hull matter. Now ef I was agoin' to
advise, I'd say jest let us git away safely ourselves this time, and
then wait for a favorable time for makin' a new trial: and then I'd
hev nobody go 'cept old exper'enced hunters; and then the women
wouldn't hev nothin' to scream about. You see, Cunnel, we knows
whar they is now, and that's half the battle.”

“There is something reasonable in what you say, I'll allow,”
replied Colonel Danforth; “but still it seems cruel and cowardly
to desert them in the manner you counsel. At least, before I decide
either way, I will consult Posetha, and take his advice.”

“And here he comes,” rejoined Miller. “With your permission,
I'll speak to him by himself.”

The foregoing conversation, though not exactly carried on in
whispers, was spoken in tones too low and guarded to be audible
half a dozen paces from where the party stood, within which distance
it was well known there were no unwelcome listeners. The
return of Posetha put an end to the discussion, and all stood in
silence awaiting the result of the interview between the two brothers.
Suddenly Henry Miller made an exclamation in Shawnee, and
threw his arms around Posetha's neck. All were of course surprised
at this singular proceeding at such a time, and every one was
curious to know what it meant. They were not long kept in ignorance;
for hurriedly rejoining the party, and dashing the tears from
his eyes, Henry exclaimed, in English:

“God bless my noble brother, Christopher! He has this night,
alone, and unaided, set your friends at liberty, and conducted them
to a place of safety.”

“Heavens! what is this I hear!” said the Colonel, in a low,
agitated voice.

“Our ears must deceive us!” gasped Edward, not daring to believe
what he had heard.

“It cannot be possible!” put in Wilkes.

“It is true,” said Miller. “Here's my brother; question him.
Come forward, Christopher, and tell us what feats you've performed
to-night.”

The white Indian slowly advanced to the group, and said, in his
own peculiar way:

“Posetha no lie—no forked tongue got. Pale-face wife, pale-face
dove, pale-face daughter, safe.”

“Where? where?” demanded Edward, the Colonel, and Wilkes,
in the same breath.

“No tell now—spoil all. Come with Posetha, and him show
soon—bi'me-by—sometime.”

“Can this be true?” pursued the still doubting Colonel—doubting
through fear, yet believing through hope.

“O, I could clasp you to my heart for the words you have spoken,
Posetha!” said Edward, rapturously. “May the Great Spirit
bless you for this, my friend!” and seizing the hand of the other,
he pressed it to his heart, and thought of Lucy as a being whom
he might yet so clasp in safety and freedom.

Nor were Wilkes and the Colonel behind in testifying their
gratitude to the author of their present happiness. Each grasped
a hand of the noble fellow, and the eyes of both were dim with
tears, as they invoked the blessings of heaven upon his head.

“In this, my friends,” said the Colonel, solemnly, and feelingly,
“do we all behold the hand of a mysterious Providence; for by
saving the life of Posetha, we have saved our own; our friends
have been set at liberty, and to one of our party has been restored
a long lost brother. And more than this, do we not behold the
doom of the Indian, when out of the three, only one was spared,
and that one a white man. Yes, a doom is upon the red-man;
and in spite of all his struggles, all his victories, a few more years
will see him driven far beyond his present hunting grounds, and the
all-conquering white man will take his place. These forests will
then be felled, these fields be turned up by the ploughshare—villages,
unlike this behind us, will spring up, and the quiet hum of
civilization will be every where heard; and if we live to the appointed
age of man, we shall see it. Wo to the Indian—wo!
But come, this is no place for moralizing. Posetha, let us away.
Yet stay! First tell me how it is possible you can have placed the
females in safety, in so short a time? Suppose, for instance, an
alarm be given—and there is no knowing how soon that may be—
may they not be discovered, and re-taken, before we can get to
their assistance?”

“Posetha speak no lie, and him say no. Injen cunning, but he
no look for him in Haunted Cave.”

“Haunted Cave! and where is that, pray tell us?”

“Bi'me-by tell—not now. Come, hosses waiting.”

“But, surely, you will conduct us to them at once?” queried the
Colonel.

“Best let him take his own course,” interposed Miller, who
feared too much pressing on the subject might irritate his brother,
whose sulky disposition, when angered, he well remembered from a
boy. “Best let him take his own course, Colonel, and you may be
sartain he will act discreetly. If he tells you the women are safe,
you may depend upon't they are. The Haunted Cave I think I
remember; and there was also a few old Indians in the village I
knew; but I saw they did'nt recollect me, and so I didn't care to
renew the acquaintance—though it might have saved my life, at the
expense of my liberty. But come! if I was to give advice, I'd
say the quicker we're off, the better; and so 'spose we set about
catching these nags. Have you bridle-ropes, brother?”

“Me got all him,” answered the other. “Me catch hoss, not to
make noise—pale-face ride him, eh?”

“Yes, you had better catch them yourself, and lead them out
here, one at a time; for too many venturing into the enclosure might
frighten them.”

Posetha at once opened the gate, and entered the yard, wherein
were confined more than a hundred high-mettled steeds. From
one of the pickets near the gate-way, he took down a dozen halters,
which he had previously placed here for the very purpose he was
now about to use them, and catching the nearest horse, he threw
one over his head, and led him forth. There was a fire in the eye
of the proud animal, as he arched his neck, champed his teeth, and
pawed the earth, that seemed to bespeak safety from Indian pursuit,
provided the rider could manage him without saddle, and with no
other guide than the halter, which was all he would have to depend
upon. Handing the leading rein to the Colonel, Posetha went
back for another animal; and but a short time elapsed, ere each
of the party had a beast ready for mounting. Posetha then caught
one for himself, and announced that all was ready for the start.

“Had we not better let the rest loose?” said Colonel Danforth.

“For what reason?” asked Miller.

“Why, if an alarm should be given, before we are far on the
way, would not the savages at once resort here for horses to pursue
us? And would they not be more baffled on finding them
gone?”

“There's something in that—eh, brother?” returned Miller, appealing
to Posetha.

“Me tink much danger let hoss loose,” replied the guide.

“But I think there is more to let them remain,” pursued the
Colonel; “and so, men, we will turn them out—that is, if Posetha
does not object.”

“When chief command, warrior obey,” replied Posetha, rather
coldly.

“I mean no offence, my friend,” said the Colonel; “but what
I have suggested, I think is best; and so, men, throw wide the gate,
and let the fiery animals have their liberty.”

His command was obeyed; and a minute later the snorting, whinnying,
prancing and running of the half-tamed beats, created a
noise that bade fair to alarm the town. The Colonel saw his error,
but it was now too late for remedy. At once he gave the orders to
mount and away; but this was much easier said than done; for
the haltered steeds, seeing their companions loose, became impatient
to join them in their frolic; and they reared, and plunged, and pulled
upon their reins, and for a time were wholly unmanageable.

Suddenly a shrill whoop came borne upon the still air, making
the hearts of our friends sink with fear. This was immediately
succeeded by the discharge of a musket, and then by a succession
of whoops, in different parts of the village, showing that the alarm
had spread.