University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.
THE PHANTOM IN CAMP.

Of that wild flight, when she was literally dragged
away by Methoto and an Indian, Isaline Holcombe
could never tell anything very distinctly. That she
all the time had her senses, she was not certain, for
her remembrance had the indistinctness of a wild,
horrible dream, with one change following another
with a suddenness not real. At first she was being
impelled through the forest while the sun was yet
shining; and her next recollection was of being
dragged along in thick darkness, with pains in
her limbs and feet, bushes brushing across her face,
and a feeling of faintness and weariness impossible
to describe. At this time too she heard, or fancied
she heard, a voice not unlike Hampton's complaining
that somebody was killing her; while she felt herself
that death was not far off, and that she would
gladly welcome it as the end of pain and trouble
and the certainty of rest. Next it was night still,
and she was reclining in some gloomy place, supported
by human arms, with the shadowy outline
of a log-cabin looming up before her in the dim
starlight, and shadowy figures flitting to and fro,
and sounds like heavy blows coming dully to her

ish, that her frank, open nature could not grasp it
—could not comprehend it; and reflecting that she
was alone, unprotected, and in such a villain's power,
she burst into tears, and once more became the weak,
trembling girl.

It was Charles Hampton's present design to get
Isaline removed to some point where Methoto would
not be likely to find her till the Indians should be
again collected together; and then, by getting Blodget
to explain the whole matter to the savages, he
doubted not she would be awarded to him as his
private property—or, what was about the same thing,
his wife—and then he would be left to manage her
to suit himself; but while he now stood looking
at her, considering how best to accomplish his purpose,
since she had refused to accompany him except
by force, Methoto and an Indian suddenly burst into
the thicket. Catching hold of Isaline, one on either
side, they jerked her upon her feet, and darted away
through the wood, fairly dragging her along between
them. Alarmed at the probable danger behind,
Hampton also fled with them, and they were soon
joined by some half-a-dozen savages, all apparently
flying for their lives.

The truth was, the assailing party of whites outnumbered
the Indians as two to one; and having
just discovered this, and that they were being
outflanked and surrounded, while a strong sally was
being made from the fort, their leaders suddenly
sounded the signal yells of retreat, and they were
now flying in dismay.

pieces of meat were also hung up in different places;
and near the centre of the camp was a pile of plunder,
consisting principally of clothing of both sexes,
farming implements, and household utensils. All
this seemed to prove, that, if the Indians had been
defeated at Higgins' Block-house, they had managed
to collect together, the majority of them at least, and
take ample revenge, during their night retreat, upon
lonely, isolated settlers. The night, as we have
shown, had been to Isaline as a wild, horrible dream;
but she knew now that what she had seen were the
indistinct glimmerings of a dreadful reality, and she
thanked God that she had been spared the mental
anguish of seeing and knowing more.

Every one in the camp, except Isaline herself,
appeared now to be asleep—as if, feeling perfectly
secure, after the fatigues of the day and night, each
had thrown himself down to recruit, with peaceful
rest, his over wearied frame—and she, poor girl, for
a moment thought of the possibility of stealing away
and making her escape. But then she knew not
where she was, nor where to go; and the probabilities
were so strong that some one would shortly
awake and miss her, should she make the attempt,
and then alarm the camp and have the whole party
on her trail, that she at once abandoned the idea
as hopeless of success.

Suddenly she had her whole attention arrested
and fixed by something she did not comprehend.
It was the cautious and noiseless movement of some

object, resembling a human being, which was descending
a tree just beyond the circle of sleeping
warriors. It was not yet light—only the dull gray
of breaking day—and at that distance she could not
see distinctly enough to be certain that the object in
question was not a mere animal. It might in fact
be a bear, for it did not look unlike one. Isaline
remained perfectly still, with her eyes fixed intently
upon it. It descended to the ground, and yet remained
upright like a man. Then it began to move
stealthily forward, into the very circle of the sleeping
warriors, toward herself. As it drew nearer, she
fancied it looked more and more like a human being
—but like a naked human being—all covered with
short, brownish hair, face as well as body. Could it
be the dread Phantom of the Forest? the fearful Unknown
that had made so many brave men tremble?
Isaline felt her very blood run cold and her hair
rise. Nearer and still nearer it came, till only a few
paces divided the mysterious object from herself, and
still she remained silent and motionless, holding her
breath, and glaring at it as if it were an apparition
from the unseen world. At length it stopped, exactly
where a large piece of meat hung swinging
below the limb of a tree. The next moment the
hairy hands grasped the object of its quest and disengaged
it, and the Unknown began to glide away
like a shadow, but with a gradually accelerated motion.
Only a few seconds more it remained in sight,
and then to the strained eyes of Isaline it seemed to
vanish into air.

A minute or two after, the forest resounded with
that peculiarly wild, prolonged, quavering shriek
that had so often blanched the faces of the superstitious
borderers.

Almost like one man the startled savages came
bounding to their feet, grasping their muskets and
tomahawks, and looking wildly and fiercely around
them. Of course they saw nothing to alarm them;
and then some of them seemed to think the fearful
sound had been made by Isaline, and hurriedly
approached her, with horrid scowls and threatening
gestures. She shuddered and commended her soul
to God, fearing her last moment had come. The
danger was certainly imminent, and perhaps the
grim King of Terrors had never drawn nearer to
her than then—for a dozen angry, bloodthirsty
savages were each eager to hang her gory scalp to
his own girdle. The white men alone saved her.
Hampton, Blodget and Methoto, each perceiving the
murderous design, sprung forward together and
interposed their bodies between her and the infuriated
Indians. Then Blodget spoke to them in a
rapid, vehement manner, and Methoto addressed
them the moment he ceased. The words of both
united had the desired effect, and the Indians finally
turned away in silence, as if ashamed of their
murderous demonstration.

“How do you find yourself this morning, Isaline?”

asked Hampton, in a kindly tone, as soon as
he could speak to her alone.

As we have said before, he was naturally a handsome
man; but at this time his beauty was greatly
marred by the rough treatment he had received from
the hands of Methoto on the previous day. One
eye was nearly closed, the other was bloodshot, one
cheek was swollen and black and blue, and his
general appearance was distressed and haggard—
enough so to excite something like compassion in
the breast of the fair girl he had so deeply wronged.
Isaline looked at him steadily for a moment, and
answered, in a low, melancholy tone:

“I am none the better for being here, Charles
Hampton, and I am disposed to wish I were already
numbered with the victims who have gone before
me!”

“Oh, say not so, Miss Isaline!” he returned, with
an appearance of considerable feeling, whether
feigned or real. “You were roughly used last
night, I admit; but though it was not my fault then,
I shall do what I can to guard you against it in the
future.”

“Charles Hampton,” she solemnly rejoined, “I am
forced to believe I owe the worst of my misfortunes
to you! I have seen and heard enough to convince
me that you are one of the prime movers in these
wicked doings which have robbed me of all that
makes life desirable!”

“I have done wrong, I confess,” he replied, with a

penitential air; “but it was because of my mad passion—my
wild, idolatrous love for one whom I saw
and felt to be passing beyond my reach! Oh, Isaline!
perhaps you may faintly comprehend me, when I tell
you that Heaven for me could have no joys if you
were absent, and hell itself no terrors if you were
present! Pity me, Isaline Holcombe—pity me—you
who should pity me—for I am suffering for my sins
even now!”

“Say rather your crimes, Charles Hampton! for
innocent blood has gone up to the Throne of Jehovah
to appear in judgment against you! Pity you I may;
but do not ask me to forgive! God alone can do
that! Look at yonder bloody trophies, torn from
the heads of pleading, shrieking victims, young and
old, who never wronged you even in thought!”

“It was a horrid night's work!” returned Hampton,
with a shudder; “but I had no hand in it.”

“Delude not yourself with that false idea!” was
the stern rejoinder of Isaline. “Your hand was in
it—ay, and your soul was in it—when you united
with and became one of the murderous band that
did it!”

“Enough of this!” said Hampton, rather coldly;
“one does not care to be entertained with reproaches,
or words abusive of one's self! The past is past.
Can I do anything for you now?”

“I do not know that you can,” answered Isaline.
“I feel now as if the time will not be long that I
shall need human aid.”

“Nay, you must cheer up and hope for the best!
With the exception of being dragged through the
wood, by Methoto and an Indian in their hurried
flight, you have not been so badly used; and even
that might have been avoided, had you gone with
me at my request. And I must add this in my own
favor, that, notwithstanding you treated me with so
much scorn and contempt, I did all I could for you,
and plead with Methoto to give you into my charge.
When the Indians had collected together before the
first log cabin they attacked, and Methoto rushed in
to the work of slaughter, you know that I turned
from the wild scene of butchery and sought only to
protect you; and that when the horses were captured,
I begged one for myself and placed you on
it, and afterward guarded you hither, and made
everything as comfortable for you as I possibly
could.”

“It was you then that did all this for me?” said
Isaline, apparently somewhat moved by the kindness
shown and the absence of cruel indifference
which might have been displayed.

“Did you not know it was me?” asked Hampton.

“No, I knew little of what took place last night.
I have a few horrid recollections, but they seem
rather to belong to some horrid dream than a reality.
I have a painful impression of seeing a cabin on fire,
and hearing wild shrieks and yells and the reports
of fire-arms, and then of being borne rapidly away.

That is all I remember till I awoke this morning and
found myself here.”

“And it was you that gave that fearful shriek?”

“No! I think it was that strange Creature that
followed you in the forest. I saw it come down from
a tree yonder, and glide into the camp like a spectre,
and then glide off and vanish. It had the form of
a human being, but seemed to be all covered with
short, brownish hair.”

“It must be some wild animal!” said Hampton,
glancing sharply around him; “though I am told
that trouble always comes to those who see and hear
it!”

“Do the Indians know anything about it?” inquired
Isaline.

“I will ask Blodget,” answered Hampton; and he
immediately turned away to seek that individual.

He was absent for several minutes; and Isaline
first saw him talking with Blodget and Methoto,
and then observed the Indians gradually collect
around the three and seem to become much interested
in what was being said.

Meantime Isaline got upon her feet, and found
them and her ankles so swollen, scratched and
bruised, from being dragged through the wood,
over sticks, logs and stones, that it was painful
for her to stand and difficult for her to walk.

When Hampton returned to her, he reported that
the Indians had only heard the strange sound since
crossing the Ohio; but being naturally superstitious,

they had, after his story had been repeated to them,
announced it as their belief that it was an evil spirit,
which boded no good to them, and that as soon as
they should arrive at home they would consult their
Prophet or Great Medicine concerning it.

“It may bode evil to them and others,” said Isaline,
gloomily, “but I no longer fear that anything
can change my condition for the worse.”

“On the contrary, your seeing it may be all the
better for you!” returned Hampton.

“How so?”

“The Indians say, that as you saw it approach
you, without its doing you any harm, you must
in some degree be under its protection, and that
trouble may come upon whoever shall attempt to injure
you.”

“Then God bless the Unknown, whatever it is!”
said the poor, forlorn captive, with deep fervor.
“But tell me,” she pursued, “in what part of the
country we are now, and what the Indians are going
to do next?”

“I cannot answer either question, Isaline,” replied
Hampton, “because I do not know.”

“Are we far from the station we left last night?”

“Yes, a good many miles, for we did not reach
here till midnight or past, though we rode a good
part of the time and rode fast.”

“And how many cabins were plundered and burnt
on the way?”

“Three.”

“And those scalps were taken last night?”

“I suppose so; for I know some of the settlers
were killed, and I saw the Indians stretching their
bloody trophies on hoops after we had reached this
place.”

“And they could find time for that? the wretches!”

“It was only the work of some two or three
minutes, each warrior doing his own. By the time
I had fixed you in a comfortable position and
tethered my horse, the slowest one was ready for
his blanket, and most of the others appeared to be
asleep even then.”

“And that meat I see hanging in different places?”

“At one of the farm-houses they killed an ox
and a cow, and brought so much away with them.
And that reminds me, my dear Isaline, that you
have not tasted a morsel since yesterday morning,
and must in consequence be very weak and faint!”

“I have no desire for food,” sighed the other,
“and do not care if I never have again.”

“Just wait and see how I will tempt you!” said
Hampton, as he hurried away to prepare a breakfast
for her.

The savages had by this time kindled a fire, and
most of them were busy in cutting off slices of meat
and toasting them. In plundering the farm-houses,
too, they had found a few corn cakes and small
loaves of bread, and these they now equally divided
among all, giving Hampton two shares, one for himself
and the other for the fair prisoner. He soon

returned to Isaline, with a well toasted slice of meat
laid upon a piece of bread, and handed it to her,
with the remark:

“Would to Heaven I had something better to
offer you; but in this case, as in many others, my
dear Isaline, you must take the will for the deed!”

“I do not care to eat,” returned the other.

“Oh, you must, or you will faint by the way!”

“Let me die by the way then!”

Come, come—this is folly! Cheer up! How do
you know that the great future has not many bright
things in store for you?”

She seemed to reflect for a moment, and then said,
in a tone of deep solemnity:

“The future belongs to God, not man, it is true,
and so I will eat!”

She took the food in her hand, and was in the act
of carrying a portion of it to her lips, when the
recollection of her last meal suddenly flashed upon
her. It was of a similar kind, similarly prepared,
and urged upon her by words scarcely more tenderly
spoken; but, oh! by how different a being! Brave,
noble, generous, self-sacrificing Henry Colburn!
where was he now? and what comparative fiend of
darkness now stood in his place! Her heart rose
to her throat, her hands trembled, her frame shook,
and she burst into tears.

“Well, well—what now? what now?” somewhat
impatiently demanded Hampton.

“Do not question, but leave me for a while!”

sobbed Isaline. “I shall be calmer soon, and will
then eat what you have prepared for me, with thanks
for all the kindness you have shown!”

There was no deceit in this. She did thank him
for his kindness, even while she remembered his
cruelty against him. The words did deceive Hampton
nevertheless—or rather, perhaps, he drew from
them an inference never intended, and deceived himself.

“All right!” he thought, as he turned back to the
fire to prepare his own morning meal; “she is
coming round as well as heart can wish. I have
been too harsh with her at times perhaps, and a
little kindness now is doing wonders. If I can only
manage to get her safely into the Indian country,
the rest will be easy. Of course she will then consent
to marry me, to save herself from something
worse; and then I will take her to Canada, and have
the ceremony legally and publicly performed. And
then” (rubbing his hands in pleased anticipation,)
“ha! ha! and then! Thanks to my being a lawyer's
clerk, I know exactly what she is going to inherit
from her mother's half uncle, Sir Joshua Speed; and
I would venture a heavy wager I am the only man
in this—country who does know anything about
it; for old Sir Joshua hates America as the devil
does holy water—especially since the late war has
terminated in Yankee Independence—and, being an
eccentric old bachelor, he has just willed this girl his
fortune, not from any love of her or any of her family,

but merely to spite his English cousins, who are
looking hopefully forward to his death! Thanks,
too, to the money I wormed out of that burglar before
he had his trial and sentence, on pretence that
my master would get him clear, I have had plenty
of capital to work with—especially as I made the
Virginia fools believe me to be the third son of an
English lord, and so got the entrée of their best society,
(Heaven save the mark!) and good keeping at
little cost. Being a dead shot, with either rifle or
pistol, of course they knew me to be a gentleman—of
course they did. I played a bold game; but then,
`Nothing venture, nothing have!' Everything was
going well, till that—, long haired, romantic,
scouting fool of an artist crossed my path, and then
matters suddenly changed for the worse. Well, now
again they have changed for the better, thanks to
the desperate course I have taken! and if I play my
cards well, I shall win yet. I should have got that
fellow Colburn out of the way without making my
hate too manifest; that was bad policy; and abusing
him in the presence of the girl was still worse—for
it is clear she loves him madly; but then it is not so
easy to keep one's passions under on all occasions.
His escape was most unfortunate, for of course he
will urge a fierce pursuit; and if the Indians do not
now make a hurried flight out of the country, we
may get into trouble yet. That savage butchery
was horrible to one not used to it! But then, after
all, what of it? Everybody has to die some time;
and, it being a mere question of time, a few years,
more or less, can make no great difference to people
who at the best have a hard struggle to live. I wonder
if I am to have any more trouble from that white
Indian? Should he not interfere again, the past may
go; but let him beware how he again attempts to
come between me and my prize!”

With these and many other dark thoughts flitting
through his active brain, the scheming villain proceeded
to toast his meat and eat his breakfast with
a heartiness that showed his appetite had not yet
become impaired by what had occurred.