University of Virginia Library

24. CHAPTER XXIV.
The Living and the Dead.

Henry and Isaline were still conversing together
in whispers, in their place of concealment, when the
former suddenly started, with a look of alarm, turned
slightly pale, and placed his finger to his lips. Isaline
had not herself heard anything; but she feared
they were menaced with new danger; and instantly
the blood forsook her sweet face, her breathing
ceased, and her heart appeared to become still.

“It may have been fancy,” at length whispered
Henry, “but I thought I heard a sound like the distant
snapping of a dry stick.”

“Oh, Heaven grant our cruel enemies be not returned!”
gasped Isaline.

“There! hark! do you hear that?”

“I hear something like the rustling of bushes,
Henry.”

“All still again!” said Henry, after a brief pause.
“Perhaps it was only some animal passing through
the wood here!”

“God grant it!”

“Ha! there again!”

“It is like a human voice now!” gasped Isaline,
the picture of terror and despair.

“It is a human voice, speaking in a low tone!”
said Henry. “There! another voice now, as if in
reply!”

“Friend or foe, Henry?”

“The sounds seem hardly guttural enough for
savages.”

“Oh, if the borderers have only returned!” said
Isaline.

“Hark!” said Henry, with a bright flush of joy.
“I do believe I hear the voices of our friends!”

“Oh, Father in Heaven, grant it!” prayed Isaline.

The sounds gradually became more audible, as if
the speakers were drawing nearer to the spot where
our lovers still remained concealed.

Presently other voices were heard; and immediately
after, both Henry and Isaline were able to distinguish
the solemn words:

“We'd better dig thar graves here!”

Isaline laid her trembling hand upon the arm of
her companion, and looked almost wildly into his
face.

“Our friends have returned to bury their dead!”
he said, with a look of solemn awe. “God be
praised, that deliverance has come to us! But there
will be a sight, my dear, sweet Isaline, that you
must not look upon! Let me go out to them alone,
my darling; and when all is over, I will return for
you and conduct you from this terrible place.”

“Oh, dear Henry, are you sure?”

There was no need of a reply to the question—for
in the same moment a voice, which they both recognized,
was heard saying:

“Whar's the use? I can't find Harry Colburn,
eyther living or dead.”

“Ha! my friend Tom! I must go to him at
once!” said Henry, with a bright gleam of satisfaction.
“Remember, dearest, you must not leave here
till I return for you!” he added, as he quietly rose
and cautiously crept out of the thicket.

“Oh, look out well for danger, dear Henry!” returned
Isaline, warningly.

“I will, my darling, never fear!”

On creeping out from the thicket, Henry perceived
his late companions grouped together at the foot of
a tree, Rough Tom among the number. He approached
them quietly, and was not perceived till
within a few feet, when he was greeted with a shout
of pleasure. Rough Tom fairly danced with delight,
and grasped his hand as warmly as if he had been
absent for a month.

“Harry, my boy,” he said, “I'm glad to see you!
for I war afeard that eyther the red-niggers, or the
Phantom, or some other infarnal thing had sent you to Kingdom Come!”

“I had a wonderful preservation, Tom!” said
Henry; and as he spoke, his eye fell upon three still,
bloody forms, that lay stretched out, side-by-side, at
the feet of the men. “Dead?” he asked, with a
shudder, pointing to the bodies.

“All dead,” answered Tom, “but only one of 'em
sculped. We've picked 'em up and fotched 'em
he-yar to bury 'em. Thar's two more on us missing
yit, though I kind o' hope they'll turn up like you
has. But whar'd you come from, Harry?”

“Do you see those brambles, filling up the hollow
made by the uprooting of that old tree yonder?”

“I'spect.”

“I have been concealed there ever since you left.”

“Too skeered to run and make a slinking fool
of yourself, like we done, hey?” grinned the old
woodman.

“No, I have not been scared at all—at least in
the way you probably suppose!” smiled Henry.
“I was thrown down there by an Indian, who fell
with me, and I suppose would have killed me, had
he not himself become frightened and run away in
such haste as to forget his rifle.”

“And you warn't skeered by the — screeching
Phantom, nary onct, hey?” said Tom, with a doubting,
quizzical look.

“I have not heard the Phantom—at least to-day.”

“No? Then what did you hear? Call it the
Devil, ef you likes that better.”

“I was stunned by my fall, I suppose, for I heard
nothing!” rejoined Henry, purposely prolonging the
subject, in order to draw Tom out and then give him
a pleasant surprise. “When I came to my senses, I
was greatly astonished to find that both you and the
Indians had gone and left the field clear. At first I

was alarmed, thinking the savages might be in pursuit
of you; but subsequently I came to another
conclusion. What was the real cause of your flight?
and where are our enemies now?”

“What become of the Injuns, I don't know,” answered
Tom; “but we all got skeered together, by a
most infarnal screech—jest like that we've heerd
afore—and all on us run—me leading off and making
a gineral jackass of myself. Harry, you know
this yere arn't the fust time I've run, and made a
cussed, scrouging, coward ninny of myself, jest for a
screech or two; but ef ever I does it ag'in, jest you
mention it to old Rough Tom, and guv him my compliments,
and tell him he's a — fool! Agh!
woofh! whar's the use?”

“And did you really hear a shriek, Tom, like that
we have heard before?”

“Yes! we heerd it last night whar we was
camped you know, and this morning ag'in, right in
the middle of the fight.”

“Did it sound like the scream of a woman?”

“So'thing like it—only more so.”

“Where was it?”

“The Lord knows!”

“Where were you?”

“Right over thar, whar you sees that bent tree.”

The spot pointed out was about twenty yards
from the bramble-pit, and Henry asked if the sound
appeared to have come from that direction.

Tom did not know—it appeared to him to have
come from everywhere.

“I think I have got hold of the Creature that
made the noise!” said Henry, gravely.

“You hev got it cotched, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Killed it?”

“No.”

“Got it yit?”

“Yes.”

“Whar is it?”

“In yonder bramble-pit.”

“Woofh! thunder! what is't like!”

“Very much like a woman.”

“Big as a woman?”

“As big as some women.”

“Any fire and brimstone about it?”

“Have not seen any. You see I am not scorched
anywhere—not even my hair singed.”

“It arn't the same one I seed then!” said Tom;
“for that thar war all fire and brimstone!”

“Except the hair and scales like a fish, as you
remember you mentioned, Tom!” smiled Henry.

“Shagh! whar's the use? I'd like to see this
critter of yourn, Harry!”

“Well, you shall; and you will be pleased with
the sight I know. I have not been so delighted
with anything since I lost the colonel's daughter.”

“Ah, that poor gal!” sighed Tom. “I'm afeard
them devils put her out of the way, and that we'll

never see her ag'in! I say, younker, how's we
agwine to face the colonel and tell him we lost the
gal?”

“It would be hard to do I know, Tom; but then
we have the satisfaction of knowing we did all in
our limited human power, and are not to be blamed
for results.”

“You don't take it so hard's you done at fust, do
ye, lad?” said Tom, kindly. “I'm glad on't—fur I
spected what lettle sense you'd got war agwine to
peg out and leave you luny! In course I'd go my
death to save that ar' gal; but ef it can't be did,
why, whar's the use? We'll hev to face the
colonel; and you'll hev to find another gal, or else
let the courting business drap, which I spect ar' a
heap the best. I never had no women bothering
me—no, sir!”

“Well, come, Tom, let me show you this Creature,
that I am satisfied gave you such a fright.”

“Down in the brambles thar, and nigh as big as
a woman?”

“Yes.”

“How've you got it fastened?”

“I left it perfectly free.”

Tom turned and faced his young companion and
laughed derisively.

“You're a confounded finiky fool about some
things, younker!” he said. “D'yer s'pose that ar'
Varmint's agwine to stay thar by itself, whilst you
goes around and axes up your friends to make a

monkey show on't? And that jest puts me in mind
—how'd you cotch it?”

“It caught me first, Tom!” smiled Henry.
“When I recovered my senses, after my fall, I
found it in my very arms; and it has been with me
ever since; and it being so tame, I thought of course
it would not run away, even if I left it alone for a
few minutes; so, as I happened to hear you speak
my name, I hastened here to meet you. But come
and see for yourself!”

“Eyther you're a — fool or I is, and I knows
it arn't me!” grumbled the old woodman, as he went
forward with Henry, leaving the others busy in digging
the graves of their dead comrades with their
knives and hatchets.

“By-the-by, Tom, are you sure we are perfectly
safe here from an attack of the savages we were
fighting with?” asked Henry, as they walked toward
the thicket, glancing around him somewhat anxiously.
“If they got frightened off from the same
cause as you did, may they not take the same notion
to return?”

“No danger, I reckon!” answered Tom. “They'll
be glad enough, I spect, to make purty clean tracks
for the Ohio now, and we oughter foller 'em! We
scouted all around afore we come he-yar, and seed
thar trail leading off in that direction; and ef t'other
party, as went off with Pete Billings that way, keeps
thar eyes skinned, we'll hev every dog of 'em yit!
I wonder whar the other two missing fellers is that

we can't git no trace of? I don't know whether
they was wownded, tuk prisoners, or what!”

“Here we are!” said Henry, as they drew near
the place where Isaline still remained concealed.
“An Indian and myself, after a shot at each other
and a miss on both sides, rushed together here and
clinched; and he got the better of me, and threw me
down into these brambles, himself falling with me;
and when I came to my senses, he was gone, and the
wood around here was completely deserted. Do
you stay here a minute, Tom, and I will go down
and bring out the Creature I have been telling you
about.”

“And you think you'll find it thar yit?” rejoined
Tom, shaking his head. “Shagh!”

“Oh, yes—for I am certain it would not run
away!” said Henry, as he disappeared on the other
side.

He was absent only a minute; and then reappeared,
helping out Isaline—who, having heard
most of the conversation, understood the whole matter,
and needed no explanation from Henry.

The moment Tom saw her, he started and stared
—rubbed his eyes and stared again—and then, with
a yell of delight, rushed up, threw his strong, rough
arms around her, and, giving her a hug that almost
took her breath, exclaimed:

“Catermounts and allergaters! ef this he-yar don't
beat all creation, whar's the use? Why, gal—I beg
pardon—Miss Holcombe, I mean—I'm as tickled to

see you as ef you war my—my—own mother!
How d'yer do it?”

The other borderers now came running up—among
whom were the scouts who had journeyed so far
with Isaline—and for a few minutes there was a
scene of wild, noisy, joyful excitement. Many questions
were asked and answered, and loud and hearty
was the laugh at the idea that the whole field of battle
had been cleared by the single scream of a
frightened woman.

“Well, boys,” at length said Tom, “we mustn't
lose too much time now; and so, as soon's you've
got them poor fellers kivered decent, we'll hold a
confab, and fix on our next doings, and tramp out
of this, eyther arter the red-niggers or back to some
fort.”

“We'll soon be through now!” replied one of the
men, as they went back to their solemn work,
leaving Rough Tom, Henry and Isaline standing together.

“Ah, you rascal!” cried Tom, with a laugh, giving
Henry a hearty slap on his shoulder; “I don't
wonder you tuk it so easy with the Phantom!
Wagh! you've had your joke on me, and I spect I
owes you so'thing; but I'm too powerful happy jest
now to pay it, with the colonel's darter back ag'in
amongst us all safe!”

As he said this, standing close by the bramble-pit,
with Henry and Isaline both looking at him and
smiling, five or six savages suddenly sprung upon

them, with their horrid yells; and, before the least
resistance could be made, our two friends were overpowered
and borne down to the earth, and poor
Isaline was pinioned in the strong arms of Methoto.
At the same moment the rest of the savages burst
upon the larger group of Kentuckians, yelling like
fiends, and pouring in a destructive volley.