University of Virginia Library

24. CHAPTER XXIV.

The rising of the sun, its crimson rays streaming over
the misty summits of the mountains, was the signal for a
renewal of the fierce shouts of the implacable enemy.

A portion of the besiegers had ascended to the summit
of the cliff. But the small band of defenders posted there
the preceding day had vanished. Yet Moody congratulated
himself upon the occupancy of positions which were
calculated to effect his diabolical purpose. The besieged
could not escape without falling into his hands, nor could
succour reach them without first entering his ambuscade.

The aged chief, unmindful of the machinations of his foes,
again entertained the maidens with anecdotes of Charles
Edward after the disaster at Culloden, and described particularly
the conduct of Flora Macdonald, exhibiting her
miniature executed in Paris; and the admiration of the
girls was not diminished by the assurance that Flora, like
Lochiel himself, was at that moment sojourning in America.

But Paddy's views could not be confined within the
narrow limits of his rock-bound habitation. And so he

wandered to the balcony, and peeped out from behind the
ivy-vines and cedar-bushes.

A single glance sufficed to appal him. A dozen Tories
and Indians were grouped around the slender sapling, the
topmost bough of which still remained attached to the
point of jutting rock, bound by the strong cord of buffalo-hide.

They stood in silent wonder or whispered consultation,
heedless of the dangerous proximity of the besieged. But
no shot had been fired at them in the night, and it was inferred
the old man had no arms, or was, like the Moravians
and Quakers, averse to shedding blood. It did not occur
to them that one of their own number (the Indian who had
ascended the tree being absent) had used the sapling to
gain access to the masked opening in the cliff, which, from
the location of Paddy in the night when declaring the decision
of the aged chief, they were now convinced communicated
with the cave that contained the victims they had
doomed to destruction.

“Some one of their friends got in during the night,”
said Moody. “And if a white man can enter, why can't
an Indian?”

This was succeeded by “ughs!” of approbation, and
several of the Senecas volunteered to make the attempt.
At that moment the Indian who had climbed the tree joined
them; and, as he was a famous adventurer, and one of the
bravest men of the party, Moody was surprised to see him
sit down and muse in silence.

“Will you not go first?” he asked.

“No! Me no go!” was the abrupt response. And
Moody turned away, and bestowed his praises on the intrepid
chief already ascending.

“Misther Cameron! Misther Cameron!” cried Paddy,
rushing into the presence of the old man.

“Weel? Speak, mon.”

“Plase yer honour, I want a gun or a pisthol. They're
standing down there by the strame, and in full view o' me,
and I want to give 'em a broadside from the balcony.”

“Pooh! And why? Why would you shed their blude?
Ane or twa more or less will make na difference. Be merciful,
mon, and save thy valour for the moment when fighting
is necessary. You shall not disturb them.”

And, turning to the girls, the old man resumed his narrative
with perfect unconcern. But he had not proceeded
far before Paddy returned, pale and trembling.

“Misther Cameron! They're coming! They'll be here
in a minute! They're climbing in at the winder! We'll
be murthered!”

“Don't be alarmed, my children,” said the old man,
rising. “The thong must be cut, and then they will
desist.”

“Let Paddy do it!” said Julia. “Do not go yourself,
sir!”

“Plase yer honour,” said Paddy, quickly, “me knife's
too dull!”

“Take my dirk,” said Mr. Cameron, offering the polished
blade.

“And plase let me have the loan of yer pisthol, for fear
wan of 'em may be in.”

“And Solo shall accompany you,” said Julia.

Paddy returned cautiously and reluctantly to the balcony,
accompanied by the girls and followed by Solo. The Indian
had not reached the face of the cliff, but was within
a few feet of it, and making rapid progress in the perilous
ascent. By a spasmodic effort, Paddy, after giving the
pistol to Julia, succeeded in severing the cord. The elastic
sapling sprang back to its original position, and hurled the
adventurous climber some fifty feet into the brushwood,
through which he plunged with great force, crashing
among the boughs, and finally fell to the earth, amid
the shouts and laughter of the spectators.

The Indian, unhurt, but greatly exasperated, emerged
from the bushes, and threw his tomahawk in the direction
of the half-concealed aperture.

“Dodge!” cried Paddy, falling down on his knees,
while the girls, supposing a volley was about being fired at
them, involuntarily followed his example; and the next instant
the tomahawk, glancing from the side of the orifice,
fell harmless at their feet.

Moody soon after announced to his followers that he had
conceived a plan by which they could obtain an entrance.
And when he explained his scheme the whoops of the
savages were almost deafening. They were seen running
in different directions and gathering materials for the fabrication

of a rope of sufficient length and strength to convey
the men from the summit of the cliff down to the opening
that had been discovered in its side. This was speedily
accomplished, for the Indians have nimble fingers; and
their exultant halloo, the meaning of which Julia perfectly
comprehended, burst upon the air and was reverberated in
the valleys.

The great cable, composed of hempen strings, hair, and
hides, was tied to a rock on the apex of the cliff and within
a few feet of the edge of the precipice. Here the scene
was wild in the extreme. A few cedars and thorns, dwarfed
in their growth for the want of soil, from exposure to the
chilling blasts of winter and the excessive heats of summer,
comprised the sparse vegetation of the spot, which seemed
a locality never designed for the presence of man, savage
or civilized. But now, like demons of mischief, the fell Indians
and Tories, their faces bathed in the red rays of the
morning sun, flitted hither and thither on the dreary apex
of the summit, making the solitary place more hideous by
their whoops and grimaces.

The summit of the cliff jutted over its base, so that those
above, who were to lower their companions, could not see
the aperture. Therefore the party was divided, one half
remaining below, and the air was filled with their loudly-shouted
communications.

It was decided that the cable should reach down to the
stream below, to be ascended or descended, as might be the
most practicable and advantageous.

The first Indian who ventured over the precipice was
furiously assailed by an enormous eagle, having its nest
on one of the ledges or shelves inaccessible to all animals
not possessing wings or incapable of suspending themselves
in mid-air. The brave bird, seeing the dusky savage approaching
its young, uttered a shrill scream and darted at
him, and the Indian's head-dress of feathers and tinsel was
scattered in fragments on the wind. Descending again
like a bolt from a thundercloud, the eagle ripped open with
his beak and talons the skin on the shaven crown of the
invader of his domestic precincts. A cry of pain startled
the spectators, and the next moment the suspended savage
relaxed his grasp and fell headlong into the shallow stream
beneath, upon whose bed of rocks his body was crushed

like the flattened ball of a rifle against a flint-stone! A
cry of horror escaped the lips of Julia and Kate, who witnessed
the occurrence from the masked balcony, themselves
unseen. The friends of the unlucky Indian rushed forward
and dragged his mangled corpse from the water.
A broken shaft of an arrow floating down the current
attracted no attention, or was supposed to have belonged
to the unfortunate adventurer. His body was covered
with wounds, and no minute examination was instituted, as
the fall alone had been sufficient to produce death.

A second Indian descended the cable, and,—although untouched
by the eagle, which, however, did not cease to dart
at his head, in defiance of the shots fired at him,—like the
first, and precisely at the same place, uttered the death-shriek,
and fell upon the same rock at the bottom of the
shallow stream.

This time the shaft remained in the body, and a yell of
rage succeeded the discovery. But from whence had it
been fired? They did not suppose it possible for the Scots
to go over the edge of the precipice and find a lodgment in
its face. Nor was it possible. But there were hidden paths
at the extremity of the cliff, leading along the shelves on
its front. With these the Scots were familiar; and these
narrow paths were soon discovered by the Indians, burning
more furiously than ever for revenge. But it was a fearful
place,—a dizzy height,—netted over in some places by
creepers and stunted brambles, with ever and anon dwarf
cedars growing out of the fissures whose only soil was the
decomposed leaves blown thither.

A general search for the hidden foe ensued. All other
enterprises were suspended. Like trained bloodhounds, the
Indians sought and found the trail of the three or four
clansmen, sole defenders of the chief who had, in his native
land, commanded a thousand.

Shouts of demoniac joy announced the discovery. Two
or three of the boldest Indians precipitately followed it,
unheeding the advice of the more aged and experienced
warriors, who would have had a consultation upon the best
mode of dislodging the enemy.

On they rushed, leaping over rifts and holding by the
tenacious cedars, when their progress was suddenly arrested
by the ferocious growl of a panther, whose head protruded

from a small cave in the rock beside the path and but a
few paces before them!”

“Ugh! ugh!” each of the Indians uttered in turn, on
beholding the glaring eyes of the beast. The growl had
likewise been heard by those below, watching the progress
of the young warriors. And when they beheld the head
of the animal thrust from the rock, they fired and wounded
him. He sprang forward with a cry of rage, and, seizing
the foremost of the Indians in the narrow path, they fell
together on the rocks beneath, both mangled and dead.

At this juncture a warwhoop was heard in a westerly
direction. Moody and the Senecas listened with suspended
breath for its repetition, not having immediately comprehended
its import amid the confusion of sounds. They
knew not whether to look for friends or enemies. They
were aware that the remnant of the company of patriots
from that vicinity which might survive the slaughter in the
valleys of Pennsylvania would soon arrive to the succour
of the besieged. They had been assured, however, by
Queen Esther and Brandt and Walter Butler, that but few
of that little band would escape; and, whatever might be
the number of survivors, they would be quickly followed,
and perhaps preceded, by Brandt himself and the implacable
Queen of the Senecas.

But the warwhoop was not repeated. Moody and his
men immediately posted themselves in the passes of the
intersecting valleys to defend the approaches to the cliff.

This was hardly accomplished, when the aged chieftain,
hastily closing the book from which he had been reading
aloud to his fair auditors, while Paddy slumbered in oblivious
security, announced the approach of Charles.

“Thank heaven!” exclaimed Julia; “but how have you
learned it?”

“My bonnie lassie kens not the meaning of the air
played on the horn by my brave clansman hidden in the
cliff. The young chief advances! My boy survives, and
I shall once more clasp him in my arms!”

“Thank heaven!” repeated Julia. “But, sir, are we
not here surrounded by the enemy? And may he not fall
before our eyes?”

“He will sweep them away like the mist of the morning!
Our cage will be opened, and my pretty birds will bask

again in their native air and flutter in the sunshine.
Listen!” continued the old man, leading the way to the
balcony. “That is the Oolah of the Senecas! They are
already flying before my victorious Charlie!”

It was true; but they were retreating toward the cliff,
resolved to prevent any communication with it by a desperate
stand at the stream that swept round its base.
With their backs toward the besieged, and sheltered in
front by the embankment of the stream, the bushes and
trees, Moody and his party awaited the approach of the
rescuers.

“Be me sowl!” cried Paddy, gazing down at the backs
of the Tories and Indians, “it sames to me it would be a
bloody shame not to help our frinds who are going to fight
for us! Plase, sir,” he continued, “let us open a masked
battery on 'em behint, and show 'em we have the courage
to fight.”

“Oh, sir,” said Julia, “let me unite with Paddy in beseeching
you to render whatever assistance may be in your
power!”

“It shall be done, my lassie!” said the roused chief.

He then directed Paddy to bring forth some half a dozen
brace of pistols. These he charged with powder only, saying
it was not necessary to spill blood in repelling such a
foe. No shot having been fired from the cliff, the enemy
naturally supposed they were unprovided with weapons;
and when the pistols should be discharged in quick succession,
the panic would be complete, for the inference that
succours had entered the garrison would be unavoidable.
But this must be done at the proper time, and he give the
signal. Soon, the close proximity of the rescuers was
announced by a simultaneous discharge of rifles, both from
the embankment and from the trees and bushes on the level
space beyond. The floating clouds of smoke prevented the
spectators in the fissure from having more than fitful
glances of the conflict; but the fire, once begun, was continued
without intermission, accompanied by shouts and
yells and the death-shrieks of the fallen. The fiercest intensity
of the struggle fluctuated from right to left, as the
combatants strove to outflank each other. The awful
braying of the ass, still retained by the Senecas, announced
that blood was flowing; and the continued barking of the

little brown dog, ever and anon flitting in view, was proof
of Van Wiggens being among the survivors.

“Now let us surprise them!” said the old man. “There
are four of us, and if we fire in quick succession they will
suppose there are eight guns in their rear. Besides, I see
my faithful men on the cliff are plying their arrows.”

He was obeyed. And the demonstration was crowned
with complete success. Moody, appalled, was the first to
give way, and his Tories followed him. The Indians could
not maintain the conflict alone, and soon fled after them.
Crossing the shallow stream, and passing over the ruins of
the burnt hut, they sought shelter in the ravine at the head
of the range of cliffs. Here they made another stand,
their rifles still partially commanding the position they had
relinquished, but not including within their range the
ground occupied by Charles.

Charles, convinced that his parent and Julia must be
looking down from the aperture, with the location of which
he was familiar, advanced into an open space, and waving
his hat, was joyfully recognised by those whose prayers
were unceasingly uttered for his preservation.

He was joined soon after by Murphy, Van Wiggens, and
Peter Shaver, the latter leading the ass, which he had met
within the woods, and which it seemed was destined to be
ever crossing his path.

“Where's Hugh?” asked the old chief, from the rift in
the rock.

“Fallen!” was the sad response.

The old man, pale and sorrowful, bowed his head upon
his breast.

“Tam dem!” cried Van Wiggens, as a fresh volley was
fired by the Indians, the only effect of which was a slight
wound in the ear of Watch, who uttered a sharp cry and
shook off the blood.

“Hide yourself, my son!” cried the old man, “or come
hither immediately; else they will slay you before my eyes.
It is my little treasure and your life they seek!”

“I cannot abandon my brave men, father,” said Charles.
“And the battle is not over yet. We have been followed
by Brandt and a few of his bravest warriors, urged on by
the bloodthirsty Esther! She murdered my men who became
their prisoners with her own wrinkled hands! And

Brandt, whom I loved and called my brother, seeks to slay
me, believing I killed his sister. Twice have I spared his
life, hoping to make him hear my denial, but I was disappointed.
When he listens to me, and believes me, as he
must, he will retire. I hear him now! That is his terrible
warwhoop! Spare him, my brave men! Spare him, for
my sake, and for the sake of his poor murdered sister.
Let me speak with him, and we shall be reconciled.”

When he ceased speaking, the junction of Brandt with
Moody and his Senecas was announced by the most deafening
yells.