University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.
THE LAST FLIGHT AND CAPTURE.

“Hist!” whispered Henry, to his trembling companion,
as he reached out and drew his rifle from
the old tree against which it was leaning; “not a
sound above your breath! Yet do not be too much
alarmed, for I am almost certain I was not discovered;
and, if so, we are as safe here as if a mile away.
Remain perfectly quiet here, dear Isaline, and let me
creep forward and reconnoitre.”

“Oh, Henry, you will not leave me! I must go
with you!”

“Follow me, then, but so cautiously as not to snap
the smallest twig, for these savages have very sharp
ears, and I tremble to think what would be your
doom should anything occur to betray our presence
here.”

We have said the island was thickly covered with
trees and bushes; but the whole space was small;
and from the spot where Henry first discovered the
Indians, to the point where he could look out
through a close covert upon the open grove of the
main land, was only a few yards—though so great
was his caution that he was comparatively a long
time in reaching it.

When at length he did get there, he saw that
which not only made him shudder, but awakened
the most strange and conflicting emotions—for there,
on the very spot where he had stopped with his fair
companion to gaze around upon the beauties of the
place, stood six hideously painted savages and three
white men—one of the latter being no other than
his long lost foe, Charles Hampton, the second Methoto,
and the third the villain who had attempted to
decoy himself and companions ashore on the Ohio.

A thousand thoughts rushed whirling through his
brain in a moment. Hampton then was not dead, but
had managed to join the Indians, and perhaps had
incited them to follow the train in the hope of finding
some opportunity of attacking it at advantage,
and of carrying out his own wicked purpose of
obtaining revenge and getting possession of Isaline.
It was natural to conjecture that they had observed
where two horses had turned off from the main body
the day before, and that a part of them at least had
followed that trail, and it might be that the storm
had saved himself and companion from immediate
capture. It was unnecessary to imagine what movements
had been made subsequently, since it was
clear enough that this party had got upon their trail
after the loss of the horses, and that nothing but the
darkness had again saved them from the hands of
their enemies. At daylight of the present morning
it was probable these savages had again discovered
their trail and rapidly pursued it to Methoto's cabin,

where the white Indian, conversing with them in
their own language, had undoubtedly given them all
the information in his possession, and had then willingly
joined them in the pursuit.

So much for the past, but what of the future? It
was terrible to contemplate! Henry saw that he
and Isaline were already cut off from their companions,
whom they had so fondly hoped to join
soon, and what chance of escape had they now?
The thought of their present condition made him
shudder; and yet he felt grateful to that kind Providence
which had so wonderfully preserved them
thus far, and even here had caused them to turn
aside and perhaps be saved from the capture that
would have ensued had they continued their flight.

All these thoughts went through the brain of
Henry almost at a flash as his eyes rested upon the
terrible group before him. For some cause the
whole party had halted upon the very spot where he
and Isaline had stopped scarcely two hours before,
but evidently not, like him, to admire the surrounding
beauties. The Indians were speaking together
in the thick, guttural tones of their native tongue,
and gesticulating rapidly, almost fiercely; and the
white men were standing a little apart and looking
at them—two of them evidently listening understandingly,
and Hampton noting the debate or dispute
with the interest of one concerned in the issue.
Of what they said, Henry of course knew nothing;
but from their gestures, he judged that the majority

were for continuing the pursuit, and one or two were
for turning back. If so, the counsels of the former
evidently prevailed—for suddenly the whole group
of Indians sprung forward along the trail, and the
white men as quickly followed.

Henry now turned back to Isaline, who had
stopped a couple of paces behind him; and his face
was so white, and his look so full of distress and
dismay, that she involuntarily clasped her hands
and gasped:

“What is it?”

“Did you see, dear Isaline?”

“No, nothing—I dared not creep up near enough
—but I heard strange voices.”

“Charles Hampton, Methoto, and the white decoy,
are united with six Indians in pursuit of us!”

“Merciful God!”

“They have gone forward on our trail, but they
will soon find where it ceases, and then I fear they
will suspect the truth and begin a search of this
island.”

“Oh, Father in Heaven!” gasped Isaline, pressing
her hands upon her heart, with a look of terrible
despair.

For a few moments Henry seemed lost in distracting
thought.

“It must be done!” he at length said, in a startling
whisper; “there is no other hope!”

Isaline looked the question her lips did not pronounce.

“Should the Indians come back here to make a
search, as I believe they will, there is no place on
this island where we could long escape their keen
eyes!” pursued Henry; “and if we were to fly now,
and get off without being discovered, they would
soon be upon our fresh trail and overtake us!”

“Then we are lost!” gasped Isaline.

“One only hope remains; but it is a desperate
risk, and will require all your courage—all your
nerve!”

“Speak! what is it?”

“You must place your life in my hands, and with
me leap into the rushing waters, and let them bear
us downward wherever God wills! Are you prepared
for the terrible venture?”

“Yes, my dear friend!” hurriedly answered Isaline;
“I will do whatever you advise! I will
commend my soul to God, and trust all to Him and
you!”

“If you will only remain passively in the water,
and not clutch me convulsively and encumber my
limbs, I think I can guide you safely to the shore:
if not, dear Isaline, at least I will perish with you.”

“Oh, no, no, Henry, my dear friend!” returned
Isaline, with the self-sacrifice of a noble soul; “do not
give up your own life; but if you find you cannot
save both, at least save yourself!”

“Isaline,” rejoined Henry, fairly trembling with
the excess of various contending emotions, “I receive
your counsel in the spirit it is meant, and therefore

forgive you; but oh! you do not know me, do not
comprehend my feelings, or such words would never
have been spoken! To give you up now, is more
than to give up life itself; to see you perish now,
would be to see the beauties, the joys, the glories
of the world swept away forever!—to see the brightness
of existence become a rayless gloom! But,
come! come! we are wasting precious time! wasting
moments on which our very salvation may depend!
Ah, Heaven have mercy! hark to that yell! Our
foes have discovered that our trail no longer leads
that way, and they will soon be back here in search
of us! Quick, quick, dear Isaline! gather all your
nerve for the great trial, and follow me, for life or
for death!”

He hurriedly crept back through the bushes,
(fearing to stand upright lest he should be discovered,)
to the edge of the rushing, roaring stream,
and Isaline closely followed him. Then came the
thought of Methoto's rifle—how was he to dispose
of that! To attempt carrying it in his hand, would
be to endanger the life of his sweet companion; to
leave it, or sink it in the stream, would almost be to
give up the hope of procuring food to live on in the
event of escape, to say nothing of losing the means
of defence. A moment of rapid thought, and he
determined on lashing it to his back. He regretted
it was loaded, for the charge in it would become
wet and difficult to remove, and to fire it off now
would be almost certain to bring the Indians directly

upon the spot. There was no time for delay—
whatever he would do he must do quickly—and
having decided upon his plan, he forthwith carried
it into execution. Fortunately he had a small cord
in the pocket of his hunting frock; and with this and
his belt, his own nimble hands, and the trembling
fingers of Isaline working under his direction, he
soon had his rifle secured in the manner he intended.

All was now prepared for the perilous undertaking
before him—the committing of himself and sweet
charge to the mercy of God, in the dark, turbid
waters of the river rushing along at their feet; and
taking a hand of the pallid, shuddering girl in his,
he solemnly asked:

“Are you ready, dear one, for the fearful trial,
for life or for death?”

“As ready now, dear friend, as I ever may be!”
came from her ashy lips. “To your care, dear
Henry, under God, I commit myself, for time or for
eternity!”

“And may the good God continue His mercies to
us!” he prayed. “Leap!”

They both sprung forward together; and down
they went, with a sullen plunge, into the rapid
stream, the dark waters for a moment closing over
them with a triumphant gurgle.

Henry was a good swimmer, and his presence of
mind did not desert him; but Isaline gasped, and
struggled, and clutched wildly hold of him, in a

manner that required all his strength and skill to
save them both from a watery grave. He was equal
to the emergency, however, and soon had her in a
position where she could do him no harm; and then,
as they went floating down on the bosom of the
current, he gave his whole attention to keeping her
head above water, and avoiding a collision with the
rocks, trees, and obstructions along the shore. Once
he made a desperate effort to swim over to the opposite
bank; but finding the attempt too perilous, he
quickly abandoned it, and confined himself only to
what was prudent and safe. With one hand firmly
holding Isaline, he found he could use his other
limbs to advantage in swimming forward somewhat
faster than the current carried them; and seeing a
large drift-log a few yards ahead of him, he made
strenuous exertions to reach it, and finally succeeded.
From that moment he felt that the danger of the
water was past; and when the first bend of the river
was turned, so that the savages above could not
possibly see them, he began to breathe freer, and
once more to have hope. He soon managed to get
Isaline fairly upon the log and himself by her side,
and then he had only to preserve a proper balance
and let the current carry them forward.

In this way they floated on downward for something
like a mile, when they came to a wild, romantic
spot, where the river narrowed and the banks were
steep and high, with trees and bushes growing down
to the water and reaching far out over it.

“Perhaps, dear Isaline,” he said, “we shall find no
better place for landing than this. Here is a noble
thicket, in which to conceal ourselves and rest; and
by climbing into the thick branches of some of these
trees, I do not think that the sharp eyes of our enemies
would be able to discover us, even should they
come searching down the bank of the river.”

“Do as you think best, my dear friend,” she replied,
in a low, sweet tone, expressive of the most
unbounded confidence in him, her guide and protector.
“I am only too thankful to you, under God,
for our present escape, and shall trust everything to
your discretion and judgment.”

“God bless you, dear lady!” he rejoined, with
passionate warmth; “and if I may only be permitted
to save you from these awful perils of the wilderness,
and restore you to the arms of your honored father,
I shall then see the happiest moments of my eventful
existence!”

“Oh, my dear, dear father!” exclaimed Isaline,
bursting into tears; “shall I ever behold him again?”

“I have great hope now,” replied Henry; “for if
we can only succeed in eluding these savages a while
longer, they will certainly give up the search.
Doubtless they would have done so long ere this,
but for the promptings of that fiend incarnate, who
is seeking you for a wicked purpose.”

“You allude to Charles Hampton?” said Isaline,
with a shudder.

“Yes! I think him, in this case, the master spirit

of evil! How he chanced to fall in with that other
treacherous villain, I cannot imagine, unless he purposely
sought refuge among the Indians after his
wild flight that night in the forest; but unquestionably
the two have found themselves congenial souls
in deeds of darkness.”

“But is it not strange the Indians have not made
him a close prisoner?”

“Not if he voluntarily fled to them for protection,
claiming to be an Englishman and hating their foes
—which, through the decoy acting as interpreter, he
could readily make them understand. The red man
has his policy as well as the white, and seldom fails
to encourage, by kind treatment and even promotion,
desertions to himself from his enemies—for
these, to a certain extent, weaken the latter, and
materially aid him in getting his revenge.”

“And after all, it seems his shrieking pursuer—
the dread Demon or Phantom—did not destroy him,
as the scouts were fain to believe!”

“No, would to Heaven it had! or that I had kept
my first purpose and sent a ball through him!”

“Better for your future peace of mind, Henry,
that you did not!” rejoined Isaline. “I hold that
we have no right to take human life except in self-defence;
and though he treacherously fired at you,
yet after the ball had missed its mark you were no
longer in deadly peril from him.”

“Not then, perhaps, but I may be now, or hereafter;
and what is more, dear Isaline, you may be

also!” said Henry, in a tone that showed he was far
from being satisfied with matters as they were.

While thus conversing, the young artist had not
been unmindful of his design of landing in that
wild retreat; and having now floated under a tree
that he fancied would best serve his purpose, he
reached up, took hold of a limb, and drew the log
in to the shore.

“Up in these branches, dear Isaline,” he said, “I
think we can rest in safety; and, if possible, I wish
you to climb into them without touching a foot on
land, that there may be no mark left below to betray
us in case the Indians should come down through
here searching for us.”

With some assistance from him, Isaline succeeded
in gaining the body of the tree, and the next minute
Henry was himself by her side. It did seem to
them then, as they looked upon the matted leaves
below them, with scarcely a spot where their sight
could penetrate through the foliage and rank vegetation
to the earth beneath, that they had at last
reached a place of absolute safety for whatever time
they might choose to remain there. Of course their
clothes were wet through and clinging to them in a
manner not the most pleasant; but fortunately the
air was warm and would not chill them, and they
were too grateful for their deliverance, and had too
much matter for serious consideration, to bestow
even a thought upon such trifles.

Henry now examined his powder-horn, and found

to his satisfaction that the contents were perfectly
dry. He next unfastened his rifle and examined
that. It had been submerged so long that the
powder in the pan, and probably that in the barrel
also, was soaked through, and all about it was still
dripping wet.

“I shall have trouble in getting out this charge,”
he said.

He proceeded to wipe the lock, and clean out the
wet powder from the pan and fill it with dry.

“Perhaps by flashing this off, a few times,” he
again remarked, as if rather thinking aloud than
addressing his companion, “the powder inside will
become dry enough to take fire and drive out the
ball.”

“Will it be prudent to try the experiment now?”
anxiously inquired Isaline. “If it should go off,
will it not make a report loud enough to be heard
by our enemies in case they are in the vicinity?”

“It certainly would not be prudent to fire off the
piece now,” replied Henry; “but there can be no
harm in flashing the powder in the pan a few times,
which will tend to dry the other and be so much
time saved.”

He snapped the piece as he spoke, and there
followed a bright flash and a light smoke. He
immediately repeated the experiment, with the same
result. He tried it the third time, and, to his great
surprise and even consternation, the charge within,

after hanging fire a short time, went off with a loud
report.

“God have mercy on us!” gasped Isaline.

“Fool! dolt! blockhead!” were the terms of angry
reproach that Henry applied to himself: “how long
must I live in the wilderness, surrounded by the
most deadly perils, to learn ordinary prudence!
The powder could not have been as wet as I supposed.
I do not think the report was heard by our
enemies,” he added, after listening for a few minutes
and glancing sharply around him; “but no thanks
to me, who deserve punishment for my folly! If
kind Heaven favors our escape this time, it will be a
lesson to me for the future!”

He braced himself among the limbs, and immediately
began to wipe out and reload his weapon;
but Isaline remained motionless and silent, with one
hand pressed upon her heart, and her sweet features
pale and anxious.

For the next few minutes not another word was
spokn even in a whisper. Henry finished reloading
his rifle, and then kept his eyes anxiously
moving from point to point among the thick leaves
of the covert. It was little he could see, where
branches, vines and bushes were so woven in together
that the noon-day sun rarely penetrated to the teeming
earth.

At length, in looking around, he casually glanced
at the face of Isaline, and fairly started at beholding
the expression of horror which the features displayed.

The eyes, bent downward, were strained
open and glaring, the lips were apart, the nostrils
compressed, and every lineament was rigidly fixed
and ghastly. She seemed to be gazing at some
frightful object, and to be fairly petrified with fear;
and instantly looking for the cause of her terror,
Henry felt his own blood run cold and his hair rise
as he caught a glimpse of a half-naked savage stealing
along through the thick bushes on the very
edge of the stream, with a motion so guarded as
not to make a noise equal to the rustling of a leaf.

The Indian came up directly under the tree in
which our friends were concealed, and then stopped,
apparently attracted by the appearance of the log
on which the fugitives had come ashore. Then his
sharp, black eyes were thrown around in quick,
searching glances, and were suddenly lifted to the
limb which Henry had first taken hold of to pull
the log in, and from which a twig or two and some
leaves had been broken and dropped on the bushes
below and into the edge of the water. The next
moment his basilisk eyes were searching the body
of the tree; and Henry mentally groaned at the
thought that now all hope was over, and possibly because
of his own imprudence—for had his rifle not
been discharged, the keen eyes of this savage might
not have been so specially directed to his present
place of concealment, and his foes might have gone
on and missed him.

So quick and searching were the glances of the

Indian below, that not more than twenty or thirty
seconds elapsed, from the moment when he stopped
under the tree, before he gave the triumphant yell,
or halloo, of discovery.

Loud and shrill the startling sound rung out upon
the still air, and went echoing through the wood,
only to be instantly taken up and repeated several
times from two or three different quarters; and,
mingling with these horrible screeches, came also
the distinctive shouts of the white renegades.

Henry felt that now indeed his last faint hope had
expired, and instantly turned his despairing gaze
upon his sweet and silent companion. It was just
in time, for poor Isaline had already fainted and was
in the act of falling, and it required a quick and
vigorous exertion on his part to keep her senseless
form from dropping down to the feet of the exultant
savage below.