9. IX.
HOW GEORGE MADE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF CANNIE.
THE girl seemed to feel that a friend was coming
to her rescue, for her head was turned even in
the midst of her struggle against the watery
death which threatened her, toward the boy.
Her garments at first afforded her some support, and
George thought he could easily reach her; but this hope
began to disappear, and his trembling lips and flushed face
showed his desperate anxiety. His eyes burned, and leaning
forward on his animal, he devoured the sinking form
with his looks, and struck the animal with his hand to hasten
its speed.
Before he had arrived within twenty yards of the young
girl, the water began rapidly to fill her clothing, and thus
to add its own weight to the weight of her body. She gradually
sank lower and lower; her long, chestnut hair rested
on the water, and the waves toyed with it.
Nothing but the bright face was now visible; the small,
bare arms were raised above the water; and a cry for help
issued from the child's lips. George felt his throat choke;
his eyes seemed to be starting from his head; his hands
trembled like a leaf. Again a faint cry came from the
child's lips—again the small arms beat the water; but the
effort only hastened her fate. A wave passed over her
head while George was still ten feet from her, panting,
overcome with horror and despair.
Then she was gone! snatched from him! suffocated within
his very sight! He uttered a groan of despair. But
suddenly he seemed to feel that one course was left him;
he might still save her. He threw himself from the saddle
into the stream; passed over the space which separated
them with half a dozen strokes, and came to her side. A
curl of hair, before he was conscious of it, glided into his
hand, and the next moment the girl was in his arms, her
pale face lay upon his shoulder, and he swam with his almost
lifeless burden to the shore.
George raised her in his arms, as though she had been
an infant, and bore her to a grassy bank. Here, he used
every means to restore her to consciousness, and at the end
of ten minutes had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing
her open her eyes.
“Oh, sir! I was nearly drowned, was I not?” she murmured.
“Yes, indeed you were,” said George, gazing kindly on
the little face.
“Did you save me?” said the girl.
“I believe I did,” said George, smiling, to keep up her
spirits; “you fell into the water, and”——
“Oh, yes! I remember all now—oh, me!”
And with a shudder, the girl closed her eyes, overcome
by the recollection.
“Don't think about it any more,” said the boy; “it will
agitate you. And you ought not to keep these wet clothes
on—you ought to go home at once. And I must ask you
your name, and where you live.”
The girl sighed, and said, faintly:
“My name is Cannie Powell, and we live up in the Fort
Mountain, sir.”
“Very far?”
“Oh, no, not very, sir.”
“Don't call me sir,” said George, smiling; “I'm only a
boy, and it seems so constrained; my name is George.”
The lips of the girl moved as though she were impressing
the name forever upon her memory.
“You ought to go home at once now,” he said, “I will go
and catch my horse, and we will return together.”
The girl's cheeks colored, and she murmured:
“You are very kind! But I ought not to—you were
going”——
“Nowhere! nowhere in the world; if I had been, I know
my duty as a gentleman.”
And George raised his head with simplicity; and casting
a last look toward Cannie, went to search for his horse.
The intelligent animal had not wandered far. Emerging
from the water, after being abandoned by his master, he
had quietly commenced feeding on the long grass—and now
allowed himself to be recaptured easily.
George led him back to the spot where the girl sat, and
throwing one stirrup over the saddle, helped her to mount,
in spite of many protestations that she could easily walk. The
boy only smiled, and with the air of an elderly protector,
led the animal by the bridle, along the narrow road,
through the rugged gorge. To the music of the brawling
Passage Creek they thus entered the Valley of the Fort.
Glancing often back at his little charge, the yough now
took in every detail of her face and figure. Long chestnut
hair fell in moist, rich curls around a delicate face, with
large, hazel eyes, rosy cheeks, and lips full of a grave sweetness
and simplicity. There was something fresh and pure
in every trait of the countenance, and the slender form possessed
a childish grace and attraction. She was not clad
like the daughter of a woodman, and this fact had very soon
attracted George's attention. The fabric of her dress was
almost rich, although greatly worn; traces of embroidery
were visible upon the skirt; and around her neck the girl
wore a string of very beautiful pearls. Her small feet were
cased, it is true, in rough, high-reaching shoes; but her
white stockings were of the finest silk; and her hands had
evidently never been acquainted with toil.
These singular peculiarities of the girl's dress attracted, as
we have said, the attention of her companion; but he did not
dwell on them as strongly as he would have done, had he
lived longer in the wild country which they were traversing,
whose inhabitants still wore such rude costumes. He was
looking at the sweet face which riveted his eyes, and he
gazed at her so intently that the girl colored under his
look. George saw that the blush was occasioned by his
glance, and immediately looked away, and commenced talking—the
girl replying with her grave sweetness, in which
he found a singular charm.
They thus took their way along the wooded road, and
soon disappeared behind the huge trees.
Had George chanced to look back as the road turned a
great mossy rock, he would have seen something to startle
him. As the two forms disappeared, the red leaves of an
immense oak slightly rustled—a swarthy face peered carefully
out—and the next moment an Indian, who had lain
close at full length on one of the great limbs, dropped
noiselessly to the ground. He was a young man, apparently
about twenty-three, with a slender figure, bare to the waist.
His nervous limbs were cased in fringed leggings of doeskin;
his feet in moccasins, profusely decorated with the quills of
the porcupine—and above his forehead nodded a plume of
bright-colored feathers, the badge of a chief. In his bearing
there was something noble and impressive; and as he
stood for a moment leaning with crossed arms, bare like
his chest, upon a long cedar bow, he presented an appearance
eminently attractive for its wild and graceful beauty.
The young Indian looked gravely in the direction taken
by George and Cannie—threw a quick glance toward the
sky—then murmuring something in a low voice, which was
very musical and sad, set forward with the rapid pace of a
hunter, on the path which they had followed. He saw
them mount the winding road, and approach a little mountain
dwelling. Then, as if satisfied that further watching
was useless, he sighed, plunged into the forest again, and
was lost in the shadow of the autumn foliage.
