"I think we had better go down to the lake. We can take the boat and go over to the island."

"That's fust rate," replied Ethan, with enthusiasm. "The Injins hain't got no boats, and can't foller us. Now we'll go down; but be keerful.

It would be miser'ble to break your neck here, arter gittin' clear of the fire and the Injins both."

Ethan descended, holding on at each side of the aperture with his hands, and thrusting his feet into the solid ma.s.s of hay in the mow.

f.a.n.n.y, adopting the same method, also reached the ground in safety.

"'Sh!" said Ethan, as he took her arm. "Run for them bushes!" and he pointed to a little thicket near the barn.

f.a.n.n.y ran with all her speed to the bushes, and concealed herself behind them. She was immediately followed by Ethan. The barn was now nearly consumed; the portion of the roof which had not before fallen in, now sunk down with a crash upon the ma.s.ses of burning hay. The lake was beyond the house, which they were obliged to pa.s.s in order to reach their destination.

"I s'pose the sooner we start, the sooner we'll git there," said Ethan, after he had carefully surveyed the ground to ascertain if any savages were near.

"I am ready, Ethan. I will do whatever you say."

"We'll go now, then. Foller me, f.a.n.n.y."

Ethan led the way, but they had hardly emerged from the bushes before they were appalled to find that they were discovered by their savage foes.

"Ho, ho, ho!" yelled the Indians from behind them.

It appeared that Lean Bear and his companions had waited in the vicinity until the burning barn was so far consumed that it was not deemed possible for a human being to remain concealed in it, and then moved off towards another part of the settlement. With watchful eyes behind as well as before them, they had discovered the young fugitives when they left the clump of bushes.

"Ho, ho, ho!" shouted the painted wretches, as they gave chase to f.a.n.n.y and Ethan.

"Run for the house!" cried Ethan.

"Why not for the lake?" asked f.a.n.n.y, in an agony of despair.

"They'll ketch you afore you git half way there. Run for the house!"

They were both running with all their might; and f.a.n.n.y, though against her judgment, directed her steps to the house. As they approached the back door, an Indian boy and a squaw came out of the building, where they had probably been searching for such valuables as might have escaped the hasty observation of the party who had sacked the premises.

The boy was apparently about ten years old, and the woman appeared to be his mother.

f.a.n.n.y, not suspecting any harm from a woman and so young a boy, still ran towards the door, being in advance of Ethan, who was chivalrous enough to place himself in position to cover the retreat of his companion in case of need. To the surprise of f.a.n.n.y, the squaw placed herself in her path, and attempted to seize her, uttering yells hardly less savage than those of her male companions. The terrified girl paused in her rapid flight till Ethan came up. The resolute fellow had already picked up a heavy cart stake, and when he saw the new and unexpected peril which menaced f.a.n.n.y, he rushed forward, and though the squaw drew a long knife and stood her ground, he dealt her a heavy blow on the head, which felled her to the ground.

"Run into the house as fast as you kin, f.a.n.n.y," said Ethan.

She obeyed, and, in doing so, pa.s.sed the scalped and mutilated form of her aunt, which lay near the door. The sight made her sick at heart, and she had almost fainted under the horror induced by a single glance at the ghastly spectacle. Such might, and probably would be her own fate, for it was hoping against hope to expect any other issue.

She reached the door, and clung to the post for support. Then she saw that Ethan, instead of following her, was pursuing the Indian boy. It was but a short chase, for he immediately overtook the youth, and in spite of his yells, dragged him into the house with him. Ethan seemed then to have a savage spirit, for he handled the boy without mercy, dragging him by the hair of the head, and kicking him to accelerate his movements.

The capture of the young Indian had been witnessed by the whole of the pursuing party, who yelled with renewed vigor when they saw him borne into the house. When they reached the place where the squaw had fallen, they paused. The tall form of Lean Bear was seen bending over her, and it was plain that there was confusion in the counsels of the savages.

"Hold this boy, f.a.n.n.y," said Ethan, out of breath with the violence of his exertions, as he took from the belt of the little prisoner a small scalping-knife, and offered it to f.a.n.n.y. "Don't let him go, no-how; stick him ef he don't keep still."

"I can hold him; I don't want the knife," replied she, as she grasped the boy by the arms, bending them back behind him.

Taking her handkerchief, she tied his arms behind him, so that he was powerless to do her any mischief. She then cut off a portion of the clothes line, which hung up in the kitchen, and tied his feet together.

In this condition, he was secured to a door. The boy looked cool and savage; he did not cry, and ceased to struggle only when the bonds prevented him from doing so.

"Now we are ready for sunthin'," said Ethan, as he appeared with two guns and a revolver, which he had taken from their place of concealment behind the oven.

CHAPTER XV.

THE CONFERENCE.

Mr. Grant, like all settlers and backwoodsmen, had a profound respect and veneration for his weapons. They were absolutely necessary for purposes of defence in a new country, and upon their skilful use often depended the supplies in the family larder. More coveted than any other property by the Indians, trappers and strollers of the prairies, he was obliged to secure them carefully, so that they should not be stolen; and Mr. Grant, in building his house, had provided the place behind the oven for their reception.

One of the guns was a fowling-piece, and the other a rifle. The appropriate ammunition for each was kept in the secret closet with the weapon. For the revolver there was a plentiful supply of patent cartridges. Mr. Grant owned two of these arms, but the other he had taken with him.

Like all western boys, Ethan French was accustomed to the use of the rifle and the fowling-piece, though he had never particularly distinguished himself as a marksman. It was a bold idea on his part to think of defending f.a.n.n.y and himself from the attacks of the savages; but, desperate as was the thought, it was his only hope, for the Indians were murdering all who fell into their hands. There was a slight chance for him, which he was disposed to improve.

Ethan evidently had some other purpose in view than that of merely defending himself and his companion from the savages--a purpose indicated by his capture of the Indian boy, though he had not had time to explain it to f.a.n.n.y. He was firm and resolute, exhibiting a courage which no one would have supposed he possessed; indeed, we can hardly know what is in any person until he is tried in the fiery furnace.

f.a.n.n.y, too, had ceased to tremble. The firmness and determination of Ethan had inspired her with courage, and without stopping to consider the odds against him, she ventured to hope that his efforts would be crowned with some measure of success. The occupation of the last few moments was calculated to increase her courage, for "something to do"

is always the best antidote for fear. She had bound the young savage, and secured him to the door, when Ethan appeared with the weapons; and now she anxiously waited the development of his next movement.

"What are you going to do, Ethan?" she asked, as her companion walked to the door.

"I don't know jest exactly what I'm go'n to do; but I'm go'n to do sunthin', as sure as you're alive. I reckon I've done sunthin' already, for them Injins hes come to a dead halt."

"Can you see them?"

"Yes, I kin. They look kinder anxious."

The group of savages had gathered around the prostrate form of the squaw. She could not have been killed, or even very badly injured, by the blow she had received. Two of the party appeared to be at work over her, while the others, among whom Lean Bear was prominent, were holding a consultation near the spot.

"I reckon I got 'em whar the har 's short," added Ethan, with something like a chuckle at his own cleverness.

"What do you mean, Ethan?" asked f.a.n.n.y, not yet able to comprehend the situation.

"D'ye see that little Injin?" replied he, pointing at the prisoner.

"Yes; and I wondered what you dragged him into the house for."

"Don't you see his fine fixin's--his necklaces and his moccasons? I reckon that boy belongs to the big Injin."

"You mean Lean Bear."

"Yes, if that's his name. He looks enough like him to be his son.

Gittin' him 's what made 'em stop short jist whar they was. I tell you we've got 'em whar the har 's short."

"What are you going to do with him?"