University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
INTO THE WILDERNESS.

“Oh, my God! my God!” cried Isaline, clasping
her hands and almost sinking into the arms of her
faithful Rhoda; “this is my doing—mine—and I
shall never forgive myself for my folly!”

“Dar, Miss Isa, chile—dar—you didn't do nuffin
—I's declar' to goodness you didn't!” exclaimed the
frightened mulatto, throwing her arms around her
mistress as if she would shield her from harm.

“Neber said a ting in de hull course ob your long
life, Miss Isa, dat any gemmen 'ud keer tree straws
about!” cried Priscilla, rolling her eyes and waddling
up to her mistress, and doubtless thinking she
was uttering some very consoling words.

“I knowed it!” cried Rough Tom, with a dozen
oaths, as he danced around like one insane; “I
knowed it 'ud come to this yere, or so'thing else,
when that Thing yelled in the forest! Poor Harry!
God bless him! The infarnal, finiky fool, to go,
arter I told him better! Whar's the use? Woofh!
Git out of my way! I'm gitting danngerous! Fotch
my rifle, somebody! I'll run the boat ashore, and
blow their cussed heads off! I'll eat em! I'll

swaller 'em whole, like snakes does tadpoles! Wagh!
wagh!”

“Look! they're not dead yit!” shouted one of the
men. “See! they've got the boat out from the shore,
whar the red-niggers can't reach it without jumping
into the water. Whoop! hurrah! thar they go—
both rifles together—and down comes two painted
devils, screeching like hounds!”

In fact it did appear, on second view, that matters
were not so bad with our friends as had been supposed.
If wounded, they certainly were not killed,
were still at liberty, and had been able to use their
own rifles with such effect as to place at least two of
their enemies hors de combat. A loud, wild cheer
was given them from the larger boats, and they were
now seen putting off on their return, with quick and
vigorous strokes of their oars. Several shots were
still fired at them from the thicket; but they
seemed to possess charmed lives, and in a few
minutes were back among their friends, who received
them with the wildest demonstrations of joy.

“How d'ye do it?” cried Tom, throwing his arms
around Henry and giving him a hug that would
have done justice to a respectable bear. “Lord love
ye, Harry, I seed 'em fire, and seed you drap, and
arter that I wouldn't a gin the wink of a blind nigger
for your chance of gitting off alive! and yit I
don't see as you've got ary scratch!”

“Heaven has been kind to me beyond my deserts,”
replied Henry, “in delivering me unharmed from

such perils; but my brave comrade here did not
meet with the same good fortune, for he has been
struck twice.”

“Just mere scratches!” replied Davis, as he
attempted to spring up from the smaller boat into
the larger one.

But though his words were lightly and cheerily
spoken, his face was very pale, and a minute after
he fell swooning into the arms of one of his comrades.
His wounds, though serious, were not necessarily
mortal; but he had lost much blood, and a
deathlike faintness followed close on his delivery.

“Oh, I am so thankful to God that you have returned
to us alive!” cried Isaline, as she hurriedly
advanced to Henry and grasped both his hands with
hers. “If you had fallen into the hands of the
savages, either living or dead, I should never have
forgiven myself for the words which excited you to
so rash an undertaking!”

“You were not to blame, Miss Isaline, in the
least!” answered Henry, with a flush of pride and
satisfaction. “I went because I felt it was my duty
to attempt the rescue of a fellow being whose tale
of suffering appeared to be true, and even now I
have only to regret the misfortune which befell my
brave companion.”

“It was a noble deed, and Heaven will bless you
for it!”

“It has already, Miss Isaline!” rejoined Henry,
in a low, earnest tone, gazing fondly into her lovely

face and sympathizing eyes; “Heaven has already
blessed me, in preserving my life and giving me the
kind approval of those I so highly esteem.”

Isaline did not reply to this, but her color deepened
and her eyes sought the ground. A brief silence
followed; and then she anxiously inquired if there
was not danger still from the Indians that had so
villainously unmasked themselves.

“I think not,” answered Henry, reflectively. “Unless
in a very large body and by surprise, they would
hardly venture to attack so many deadly rifles as
they must suppose us to possess; and now that they
know us to be on our guard, it is not likely they
will continue down the river, even in the hope of a
future opportunity. No, Miss Isaline, I think this
sudden exposure, with its consequences, is the best
thing for us that could have happened. I am glad
that your words prompted me to go to the rescue
of that pleading wretch, for by so doing I have
made my conscience easy, and it may be an over-ruling
Providence has used the act for the salvation
of us all.”

“Oh, what black-hearted wickedness there is in
the world!” said Isaline, thoughtfully. “It is bad
enough for savages, trained to blood and war from
infancy, to do the cruel deeds of the wilderness; but
what shall be said of the white villains who consort
with them and excite the holiest emotions of the
human heart merely to bring destruction upon fellow
beings of their own country and race? I had

heard of such things, it is true; but until I witnessed
such an act of fiendishness, I could not bring my
mind to realize it.”

“There is an old axiom which says, `The brighter
the angel when he falls, the blacker the demon he
becomes!' ” returned Henry; “and I know for a
truth there are white men among the Indians who
are even more cruel and blood-thirsty than the
natives of the forest! God keep us from falling
into such hands!”

Isaline shuddered at the thought.

“And yet,” she said, “we have a long stretch of
almost unsettled wilderness to pass through to reach
our destination.”

“But there will be many strong arms and vigilant
eyes to guard you from harm,” replied Henry.

“I know I shall be surrounded by brave hearts,”
said Isaline; “but for all that, after what I have
just seen, I confess I am becoming timid. Before I
set out, the journey presented to my careless mind
its bright romance and indistinct perils—but now it
oppresses me with a painful dread. Would to
Heaven it were over, and I were safe in the arms of
my father!”

“Do not be troubled, Miss Isaline! the danger, I
think, is nearly past!” returned Henry. “We shall
soon reach Limestone, now, and from there the inland
journey is little to be feared. Remember the Ohio
will roll between us and the homes of our savage
foes; and of late they seldom venture to cross into

Kentucky, where they have, from time to time, met
with so many serious reverses and sore defeats.”

“Well, I will hope for the best!” sighed Isaline;
“but you must promise me that Henry Colburn will
do no more rash deeds!”

“Your lightest wish shall be my law!” was the
gallant response of the young artist.

Meantime the three large boats, in close company,
were dropping steadily down with the current; and
though both shores were sharply and eagerly scanned
by the anxious voyagers, nothing more was discovered
of a threatening nature. So far as could
be seen, the Indians who had assailed our hero were
not disposed to come any nearer to the descending
boats; and it was generally believed they would
return to their villages, or wait where they were in
the hope of being more successful with the next
party of adventurers. Still there was nothing certain,
and the timid became more troubled and fearful,
and the bravest were disposed to be unusually
vigilant and cautious.

When the boats lay up that night, they anchored
well out in the stream, a double guard was set, the
skiffs were hauled aboard, and no one was allowed
to visit the shore. Nothing, however, occurred to
cause any disturbance, except that once, toward
morning, one or two of the scouts fancied they heard
a wild, distant shriek in the forest, similar to that
we have more than once described, the effect of
which was to unnerve them and depress their spirits

far more than the yells of a hundred savages would
have done.

In the afternoon of the following day the boats
reached Limestone, where passengers, goods and
horses were all disembarked, and preparations made
for the inland journey through a long stretch of
dangerous wilderness. They did not set out, though,
till the third morning after their arrival, and the
nights were passed within the strong walls of a
border block-house, or fort.

It was not the first time in her life that Isaline
had been so lodged. She had already become used
to rough scenes with rough companions, and, so that
she could experience a feeling of security, she was
disposed to accept the rest with that philosophy
which always seeks to find pleasure instead of
annoyance. She was one of those happy natures
who prefer the bright to the dark side of the picture
—and generally have it—for in truth more shadows
cover the realm of fancy than of reality. Her
spirits, so lately depressed, now rose to the height
of merriment, so that many were surprised at the
marked change that had so suddenly taken place.
She laughed at those who seemed vexed, and rallied
those who appeared gloomy, and did everything that
lay in her power to lighten the tedium of the heavy
hours. Some blamed and many praised her, and
Henry thought he never saw her appear more lovely
and interesting.

The third morning after the arrival of the voyagers,

the train started for the interior, the women
and children all being mounted, and the rest of the
horses being loaded with goods, tents, clothing, cooking
utensils, provisions, and other portable things.

Of the whole number who had come down the
Ohio, Davis was the only one left behind at the fort.
His wounds were doing well, and promised speedy
recovery; but he was not in a condition to pursue
the tedious journey through the wilderness, and so
was put under charge of the medical man of the
post.

The scouts acted in their regular capacity—all
of them by turns pushing on in advance, scouring
the country round about, hunting for Indian sign,
and killing such game as fortune threw in their
way. At night they joined the train, and, assisted
by some of the others, kept guard over the camp.

The weather, which had promised a cool rain,
was now again clear and warm, and as yet not a
single frost had begun to change the bright green
of the forest to the variegated hues which render it
so attractive to the lovers of the picturesque and
beautiful.

Only some six or eight miles were made the first
day, and, with the sun still above the horizon, the
camping-ground was selected at a pleasant spot near
a running stream. Here the horses were unloaded
and turned out to graze, the tents pitched, and the
suppers of the different messes cooked and eaten
before the advancing night had fairly closed around

the scene. All so far was well; and though there
was many a palpitating heart among the number
that soon after lay down to repose, all continued
well till morning again showed them a day so lovely
as to make their souls swell with prayers of thanksgiving.

The second day and night, like the first, passed off
without anything to excite alarm; and as the journey
thus far had proved less gloomy and disagreeable
than had been anticipated, the spirits of the most
timid began to grow buoyant. A few days more of
continued prosperity would see them safely among
their friends, where they fancied there would be
little to fear from the hostile tribes of the North.

Though Henry had joined the scouts and acted
with them in perfect harmony, he had never at any
time considered himself bound to continue in their
company, or in the capacity assumed, one moment
longer than might suit his inclination; his birth and
education had placed him in the social scale far
above them, and he knew he could take another
position whenever he should choose; but while he
was with them, he felt it to be his duty to perform
his part with the rest; and therefore, on the present
journey, though it would have given him more
pleasure to have remained by the side of Isaline, as
a friend and fellow traveller, he neglected no task
that the others performed, and was sometimes in the
advance and sometimes in the rear, sometimes hunting
and sometimes standing guard. A horse was at

his disposal whenever he wished to ride; but thus
far he had only mounted him once, and then only
for a few minutes, and his whole conversation with
Isaline had amounted only to general salutations
and passing civilities.

In the afternoon of the third day, however, finding
that everything was going well, and that a few
hours leisure for himself would impose no extra
labor upon any of the rest, Henry mounted his
horse, resolved upon having some pleasant recreation.
Riding up to the side of the fair maiden, who had
of late occupied so much of his thoughts, he said, in
a light, gay tone:

“There, Miss Isaline, congratulate me that at last
I am blessed with time enough to draw a long
breath and inquire after the health and comfort of
the lady it is both my duty and pleasure to serve.”

“Is it possible,” cried Isaline, in well-affected surprise,
“that you really have time to ask the question
and wait for an answer?”

“In truth I believe it is even so,” laughed Henry.

“And are you not afraid your master will discharge
you for some neglect of duty?” pursued the
other, with a serio-comic air. Really, it appears
to me that for a young man of your bringing up
you are taking unheard-of liberties, and it would
pain me very much to see you sent back in disgrace!”

“It certainly is a pleasure to me to know you
take such a deep interest in my welfare!” laughed

the young artist. “But jesting aside—how are you
pleased with your journey thus far, Miss Isaline?”

“Oh, delighted, of course, that I am not talked to
death, can get my breath in spite of the heat, and
still have my head on my own shoulders!”

“And the last is always something to be thankful
for in the wilderness,” returned Henry. “So far
everything has gone well, thank God!” he seriously
added; “and once on the other side of the Licking,
which we are now approaching, I shall feel we are
beginning to be pretty safe. Yonder line of hills,
which you can now and then catch a glimpse of
through the trees, marks the course of one of the
most romantic streams of this romantic region—a
stream that flows in deep, dark solitude, beneath
green and flowery bowers that nature has well fitted
for the sylvan retreats of the Indians' Paradise. I
once spent a week in roaming up and down its delightful
banks, and now and then sketching a scene
of quiet beauty or rugged grandeur; and though no
mortal was with me, I never felt less alone, for I
fancied that legions of spirits of Indian maids and
lovers were hovering around the enchanting place!”

“Did you fancy them armed with tomahawks and
scalping knives?” laughed Isaline. “But pardon
me! I am wrong to jest on so grave a subject!” she
soberly added, with a mischievous look. “Unquestionably
you had a very delightful time; and I shall
only be too happy to learn you escaped as sound in
heart as body, and that the love-shafts of the spirit

Indian maids passed as clear of their mark as the
more tangible bullets of their mortal brothers!”

“I believe I left the romantic region entirely
heart-whole,” rejoined Henry, looking straight into
the bright, merry eyes of his fair companion; “but
whether I shall return to it in the same condition is
something more questionable.”

A very slight flush suddenly tinged the cheek of
the young lady, and she instantly became deeply interested
in looking at something on the other side
of her horse.

“By-the-by,” she said, “I dreamt of Hampton,
last night.”

It was Henry's turn to color, now; but he rejoined,
in a light, easy tone, though it possibly cost him an
effort:

“Nothing seems more natural, Miss Holcombe,
than that we should dream of those who are deep in
our regard.”

“True!” returned Isaline, thoughtfully, as if the
idea his words conveyed was in her case an accepted
fact. “I wonder what can have become of
him?”

“Perhaps he is somewhere in the forest, practicing
with the rifle!” answered Henry, with a slight curl
of the lip and sharp compression of the teeth. “If
he had been a little better marksman, he might have
been here now instead of me!”

“And that Creature that followed him,” said Isaline,

as if pursuing her first train of thought, “what
could it have been?”

Henry looked at her, but did not reply to the question.

“Was your dream a pleasant one?” he asked.

“More ridiculous and horrible than pleasant,” she
answered. “I thought we were all flying through
the air together—the Phantom, with face and body
like a woman, and wings like a bat, spiriting us
away to some dark, unknown region, which at last
we reached, and where the only sounds were groans,
shrieks, and hideous laughter!”

“Whom do you mean by we?” inquired Henry.

“Why, you and I, Hampton, a band of murderous
savages, and the Witch Phantom!”

“A select company!” laughed Henry.

“So I thought!” returned Isaline, with an arch
smile; “but what is more natural than that we should
dream of those who are deep in our regard!”

“Go on with the dream!” said Henry, with a slight
flush.

“That was all. I woke up, with old Priscilla
shaking me for breakfast, and heard some of the
men laughing, and others shouting and swearing at
the horses. But what is that yonder?” queried
Isaline, pointing to a large green mound, that could
be seen through the trees a short distance away to
the right.

“The sepulchre of some portion of a race that
has gone from this world forever!” replied Henry.

“In this broad region, called the Great West, there
are numbers of these landmarks of a people of which
none now living have any record. They came and
they passed away; and these mounds of earth, filled
with human bones and a few rude implements of
stone and clay, are all that is left to tell that they
once lived, moved, thought, reasoned, felt, suffered,
and died!”

“And has the present race of Indians no knowledge
of them? no traditions concerning them?”
inquired Isaline, with awakened curiosity.

“None, I believe—at least so I have understood.”

“I should like to visit this mound.”

“Nothing is easier. You have only to ride down
through the open wood here, and I shall be happy
to accompany you.”

Turning to her servants, who were only a few
paces behind, Isaline bade them keep along with the
train; and merely adding that she would rejoin them
shortly, she gave her high-spirited palfrey a light
touch with her riding whip, and set off at a brisk
canter through the wood—Henry instantly following
and speedily overtaking her.

“Whar's she agwine to?” asked old Priscilla, who
was mounted behind her companion Rhoda, on a
strong, good-natured, sluggish horse, that could
scarcely be whipped out of a walk.

“How d'ye 'spect I knows?” answered Rhoda,
with the petulance of a spoiled child. “Ise doesn't
know ebery ting about missuses doings!”

“Dat dar's cl'ar enough—Ise knows you doesn't—
but you allers talk as ef you did!” grumbled the old
nurse. “Ise does wonder whar she's agwine! Ise
hopes dat young buck won't run off wid her; but
she leans up to him purty sharp, I reckons. Dar
was one time Ise thunk Marsa Hampton had 'em
all fixed; but sence he's done gone to de Debil of de
Forest, Marsa Colbrum 'pears to hev it all cl'ar
wedder. A-a-ah! Ise hopes de Forest Debil won't
git 'em bofh! but Ise got out my skeers on't, I has!”

“You has your skeers out on eberyting!” pouted
Rhoda, with a fierce jerk of the bridle rein.

“And doesn't 'em come true, chile?” exclaimed
Priscilla, rolling her eyes with an air of triumph;
“answer me dat, chile! Didn't Ise hev out my
skeers on Marsa Reginald? and didn't him git done
gone shot in de battle of Branderwine? And didn't
Ise hev out my skeers on Miss Libzabeth? and didn't
shes go dead in no time? Go 'way, chile! you's
young and simple, and doesn't know no'ting!”

“Well,” returned Rhoda, angrily, “Ise says dis
much—dat ef you gits out your skeers on Miss Isa,
and she goes dead, or any of dem tings, I'll wrung
your neck like you does chickens!”

“Ise doesn't keer for dat!” persisted the old nurse,
with a solemn shake of her head. “Ise got out my
skeers on dem two young peoples, and you'll see
someting orful—dar now!”