Mrs. Jones saw the propriety of this, and gratefully a.s.sented to the captain's plan, and at the hour appointed--all the preparations having been efficiently made--the wounded man was carefully placed upon the nicely-constructed litter, the women and children taken upon the soldiers' horses, and the little cavalcade moved noiselessly out on the star-lighted prairie.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE MYSTERIOUS FIRE.

Few words were spoken, as the handful of brave men, with the rescued women and children, and the suffering squatter moved on. Experienced scouts were thrown out on either hand, to give notice of danger, for at any moment the wily foe might spring upon them.

"Where can Long Hair be?" whispered Tom to his mother.

"I cannot imagine," she answered; "he left the cabin as I was telling you about the loss of the children through the treachery of Yellow Bank. His eyes glared while I was speaking, and there was a look on his face that I could not interpret. Do you suppose he is trusty?"

"Trusty!" echoed Tom; "why, mother, he perilled his life for us."

"Yes, I know it, child; he is unlike any Indian I ever saw. But why did he leave so mysteriously?"

"I don't know," replied Tom. "Captain Manly tried to find him; he wished to present him to General McElroy. He said he did not doubt that government would reward Long Hair for his services."

"Well," sighed his mother, shuddering as she spoke, "how different these Indians are from us! They come and go so noiselessly, and talk so little! But what is that?" she exclaimed, glancing back.

"What?" inquired Tom.

"Why, that light,"--pointing in the direction from which they came.

And Tom saw against the dark woods, for a background, thick flying sparks from the cabin chimney made themselves visible for miles across the prairie.

A scout now rode up, to call the attention of the captain to the same appearance.

"I cannot comprehend it!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed that officer, putting his gla.s.s to his eyes. "It is clear that the cabin is not on fire. It seems to be occupied." And, riding up to Mrs. Jones, he said, "Madam, can you tell me if there was any fuel in the fireplace when we left?"

"There was not," was the decided reply.

"But there is a large fire burning on the hearth now; how do you account for that? It's a trick of the savages," he muttered, as he put spurs to his steed; "and yet," he added, "it is not like the Indians to go into a house and make a fire. If they had discovered our retreat, they would be too cunning thus to let us know that they had found it out; we should see them prowling around as stealthily as so many panthers. Somebody's alive and stirring there; who can it be?"

The singular incident served to heighten the anxiety of all, and stimulate the soldiers to make as good progress as they could without too greatly distressing the wounded man. Several times, in the dim light, the groaning and pallor of her husband led Mrs. Jones to fear he was dying, and, with Tom and Robert, she watched every change in his appearance, tenderly ministering to him. Fresh relays of men took the places of those who bore him, taking their turn at the litter with alacrity, for Tom's dutiful and heroic conduct, and the mother's loving gentleness and patient endurance, and the squatter's stubborn defence of the lone cabin against such odds, had won the hearts of the soldiers, and they had resolved to see the family safe within the walls of the fortress, or, if attacked on the prairie, to defend them to the death.

"How did it happen," asked Captain Manly, in a low voice, of the mother, "that your cabin was enclosed with those walls of heavy logs.

Were you expecting an attack?"

"Long Hair gave us warning," she replied; "and husband persuaded the settlers to cut down trees and build the walls."

"And your husband directed the defence?"

"Yes," said she, "and he made a sortie, and rescued a number of neighbors, who would otherwise have been murdered,--the very persons who afterwards deserted in the night, leaving, in their haste, the outer door wide open. We should all have been sacrificed before morning, had we not been startled at seeing Long Hair standing in the cabin. How he got in undiscovered through so many enemies, and notified us of our danger in so timely a manner, we could not conjecture. Husband secured the door again, and Long Hair vanished as he came, saying, 'Long Hair go quick, get sojer, come right back bimeby, quick!' that was, I suppose, when he came to the fort, as Tom told us about, and not succeeding in his errand, hurried to find Tom, to intercede with you for us."

"You have had a hard time of it," said the captain, "and your husband stood a siege before which a well-manned fort might have fallen. I only hope that the brave fellow'll get well, and enjoy the fruits of his n.o.ble conduct. If I had a few hundred men like him, I could sweep the red-skins from the soil."

But the jarring, and the motion, and the pain were proving too much for the wounded pioneer, and delirium setting in, he began to rave, speaking, however, slowly and distinctly, and without a tinge of the squatter dialect, but in the purer English of his early days.

"There!" he exclaimed, pointing his finger, "you've come again. I knew you would not let me rest."

"He's thinking of the Indians," remarked the captain, sorrowfully; "the confounded red-skins!"

"I told you he stole it all. Will you hara.s.s me into my grave? A set of vampires, sucking the life-blood of an honest man!"

"Now he wanders," said the captain; and, sending for the surgeon, the latter opened his medicine case, and, lighting a match to read the labels on his vials, administered an opiate, and the sufferer sank into a troubled stupor.

"Ah!" whispered the mother to Tom, "it is not the savages that disturb his mind so; it's the old agony of a wounded spirit."

About noon, the next day, they came in sight of the fort. How welcome the frowning walls to the weary women and children! How sublime seemed the national flag, floating proudly on the breeze, symbol of a united sovereignty of states, powerful to protect its citizens on the ocean and the land, in the teeming city, and in the wilds of the wilderness!

General McElroy received the settlers in the kindest manner, causing them to feel at once that they were among friends. Airy, quiet apartments were a.s.signed to the wounded man and his household, and the ladies of the garrison vied with each other in their attentions to him and his stricken family. Often would Mrs. McElroy come in and sit by Mr. Jones, that his wife might get some rest. With her and her husband Tom had become a great favorite, and they entertained a high respect for the mother.

The squatter's life in the open air, roaming the prairies, tended to build up for him a healthy physical organization, favorable to the healing of the wound; and as this progressed, the doctor marvelled that he did not get stronger. He was strangely liable to delirious attacks, and opiates gradually lost their influence over him.

One day the surgeon entered as his patient, wildly raving, was exclaiming, with great vehemence,--

"I tell you, again, that I have nothing to pay with, and you will give me no chance to earn. O, what a load to carry! Debt! debt! debt! Shall I never find rest?" Then, in a moment more, his thoughts relapsing to another subject, he murmured, "What did the preacher say?

'Come--unto--me--and I will--give you rest;' yes, that is what I want.

O, if only I could come!"

The surgeon watched him through the delirium, and said,--

"Madam, it is not the bullet of the savage that's killing your husband, but some more deadly sore. He needs medicine for the mind, rather than the body; and when he is himself, you had better call in the chaplain to converse with him."

An hour later, when Mr. Jones had an easy interval, she gently said,--

"Husband, you are very sick. Don't you think it might do you good to have a little talk with the minister?"

"Minister!" he feebly answered; "what minister?"

"The minister that belongs to the fort."

"I don't know him," replied the sick man, suspiciously. "But there is _one_ minister that I do know," he added, after a moment's pause.

"Who?" she inquired.

"Why, _him_!" he answered, impatiently, as if he thought she ought to understand.

"You mean the missionary," she returned.

"Yes; if I could talk with him, I would like to."

The wife mentioned his remarks to the surgeon, and General McElroy sent for the missionary.

It was evening, of a lowering, rainy day, when the messenger returned with Mr. Payson. It had been drizzling and dripping all day, but towards night the clouds grew black and wild, and a furious wind dashed the big rain-drops violently against the window. The air was raw, and seemed to pierce to the bones. The old fort buildings were delightful in fair weather, but now were damp and chilly. Mrs. Jones feared for the effect of the storm on her husband, whose frame, since his wound, had been extremely sensitive to atmospheric changes; and dreading that, if he was disturbed, he would relapse into delirium, she concluded not to invite the missionary in to see him until morning. She had disposed everything as comfortably as possible about the bed, and had a nourishing broth and his medicines handy, when Mrs.

McElroy entered, and said,--