"We must watch first," said Martin, "to see if they all continue in the same lodge, for if they divide, we must arrange accordingly. Who will remain with the prisoners?"

"I won't," said John, in a positive manner.

"You must, John, if it be decided that you do," said Alfred.

"Better not, sir," replied Malachi; "for as soon as the boy hears the crack of the rifles, he will leave his prisoners, and join us; that I'm sure of. No, sir, the Strawberry can be left with the prisoners. I'll give her my hunting-knife; that will be sufficient."

They remained for about half an hour more watching the lodges, but every thing appeared quiet, and not a single person came out. Having examined the priming of the rifles, every man was directed to take up a certain position, so as to surround the buildings and support each other. John was appointed to the office of looking after his cousin Mary, and preventing the women from escaping with her from the lodge in which she was confined; and John took his office willingly, as he considered it one of importance, although it had been given him more with a view that he might not be exposed to danger. Leaving the prisoners to the charge of the Strawberry, who, with her knife drawn, stood over them, ready to act upon the slightest attempt of escape on their part, the whole party now crept softly toward the lodges, by the same path as had been taken by Malachi and the Indian woman. As soon as they had all arrived, they waited for a few minutes, while Malachi reconnoitered, and when they perceived that he did so, they all rose up and hastened to their allotted stations round the lodge into which the Angry Snake and his followers had entered. The Indians appeared to be asleep, for every thing remained quiet.

"Let us first lead Miss Percival away to a place of safety," whispered Captain Sinclair.

"Do you do it, then," said Alfred; "there are plenty of us without you."

Captain Sinclair hastened to the lodge in which Miss Percival had been placed, and opened the door. Mary Percival, as soon as she beheld Captain Sinclair, uttered a loud scream of delight, and, rising from the skins on which she had been laid, fell upon his neck. Captain Sinclair caught her in his arms, and was bearing her out of the lodge, when an Indian woman caught him by the coat; but John, who had entered, putting the muzzle of his rifle into their faces, they let go and retreated, and Captain Sinclair bore away Mary in his arms into the brushwood, where the Strawberry was standing over the Indian prisoners.

The scream of Mary Percival had roused the Indians, who, after their exhaustion and privations, were in a sound sleep; but still no movement was to be heard in the lodge, and a debate, between Malachi and Alfred, whether they should enter the lodge or not, was put an end to by a rifle being fired from the lodge, and the fall of one of the soldiers, who was next to Alfred. Another shot followed, and Martin received a bullet in his shoulder, and then out bounded the Angry Snake, followed by his band, the chief whirling his tomahawk, and springing upon Malachi, while the others attacked Alfred and Martin, who were nearest to the door of the lodge. The rifle of Malachi met the breast of the Angry Snake as he advanced, and the contents were discharged through his body. The other Indians fought desperately, but the whole of the attacking party closing in, they were overpowered. Only two of them, however, were taken alive, and these were seriously wounded. They were tied and laid on the ground.

"He was a bad man, sir," said Malachi, who was standing over the body of the Indian chief; "but he will do no more mischief."

"Are you much hurt, Martin?" inquired Alfred.

"No, sir, not much; the ball has pa.s.sed right through and touched no bone; so I am in luck. I'll go to the Strawberry, and get her to bind it up."

"He is quite dead, sir," said Graves, who was kneeling by the side of the soldier who had been shot by the first rifle.

"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Alfred. "Well, I'm not sorry that they commenced the attack upon us; for I do not know whether I could have used my rifle unless they had done so."

"They never expected quarter, sir," said Malachi.

"I suppose not. Now, what are we to do with the women? They can do no harm."

"Not much, sir; but, at all events, we must put it out of their power.

We must take possession of all the weapons we can find in the lodges. We have their two rifles; but we must collect all the bows and arrows, tomahawks, and knives, and either destroy or keep possession of them.

John, will you look to that? Take Graves with you."

"Yes," replied John, who with Graves, immediately commenced his search of the lodges.

The two women, who had been in the lodge with Mary Percival, had remained where they were, as John's rifle had kept them from leaving the lodge; but the other two had escaped into the woods during the affray.

This was of little consequence; indeed, the others were told that they might go away, if they would; and as soon as they heard this from Malachi, they followed the example of their companions. John and Graves brought out all the arms they could find, and Malachi and Alfred then went to the bushes to which Mary Percival and Sinclair had previously retired. Alfred embraced his cousin, who was still too greatly agitated to say much, being almost overpowered by the sudden transition in all her thoughts and feelings:--and, in the variety of her emotions, perhaps the most bewildering was that occasioned by the re-appearance of Percival,--like a restoration from the dead. Alfred was in consultation with Malachi, when he perceived the flames bursting out of the lodges.

Martin, as soon as his wound was dressed, had returned and set fire to them.

"It's all right, sir," said Malachi; "it will leave the proof of our victory, and be a caution to other Indians."

"But what will become of the women?"

"They will join some other band, sir, and tell the story. It is better that they should."

"And our prisoners, what shall we do with them?"

"Release them; by and by, sir, we shall have nothing to fear from them; but we will first take them two or three days' march into the woods, in case they have alliance with any other band whom they might call to their a.s.sistance."

"And the wounded Indians?"

"Must be left to Providence, sir. We can not take them. We will leave them provisions and water. The women will come back and find them; if they are alive, they will look after them; if dead, bury them. But here comes John, with some bears' skins which he has saved for Miss Mary; that was thoughtful of the boy. As soon as the flames are down, we will take up our quarters in the clearing, and set a watch for the night; and to-morrow, with the help of G.o.d, we will commence our journey back. We shall bring joy to your father and mother, and the sooner we do it the better; for they must be any thing but comfortable at our long absence."

"Yes," said Mary Percival; "what a state of suspense they must be in!

Truly, as the Bible saith, 'Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.'"

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

Not one of the party slept much on this night. There was much to do, and much to be looked after. Captain Sinclair, as it may be supposed, was fully occupied with Mary Percival, of whom more anon. As soon as they had taken up their position in the clearing, and made arrangements for the accommodation of Mary, they relieved the Strawberry from her charge of the prisoners, whom they brought to the clearing, and made to sit down close to them. Percival, who had not yet been freed from his bonds, was now untied, and suffered to walk about, one of the men keeping close to him, and watching him carefully. The first object which caught his eye, was the body of the Angry Snake. Percival looked on it for some time, and then sat down by the side of it. There he remained for more than two hours, without speaking, when a hole having been dug out by one of the party, the body was put in and covered up. Percival remained a few minutes by the side of the grave, and then turned to the two wounded Indians. He brought them water, and spoke to them in the Indian tongue; but while he was still with them, Mary sent for him to speak with him, for as yet she had scarcely seen him. The sight of Mary appeared to have a powerful effect upon the boy; he listened to her as she soothed and caressed him, and appearing to be overcome with a variety of sensations, he lay down, moaned, and at last fell fast asleep.

The soldier who had been shot by the Angry Snake was buried before they buried the chief. Martin's wound had been dressed by his wife, the Strawberry, who was very skillful in Indian surgery. She had previously applied cataplasms made from the bruised leaves which she and the Indian woman had sought for, to the feet of Mary Percival, which were in a state of great inflammation, and Mary had found herself already much relieved by the application. Before the day dawned, the two Indians who had been wounded, were dead, and were immediately buried by the side of the chief.

Alfred and Malachi had resolved to set off the next morning, on their return home, if they found it possible to convey Mary Percival; but their party was now reduced, as one of the soldiers had been killed, and Martin was incapable of service. The Indian woman would also be fully loaded with the extra rifles, the two which they had captured from the Indians, the one belonging to the soldier, and Martin's, who could not carry any thing in his present state.

They were now only six effective men, as John could not be of much use in carrying, and, moreover, was appointed to watch Percival. Then they had the two prisoners to take charge of, so that they were somewhat embarra.s.sed. Malachi, however, proposed that they should make a litter of boughs, welded together very tight, and suspended on a pole so as to be carried between two men. Mary Percival was not a very great weight, and, by relieving each other continually, they would be able to get some miles every day, till Mary was well enough to walk with them. Alfred a.s.sented to this, and, as soon as it was daylight, went into the woods with Malachi, to a.s.sist him in cutting the boughs. On their return, they found that all the rest of the party were up, and that Mary felt little or no pain. They made their breakfast on their salt provisions, which were now nearly expended, and as soon as their meal was over, they put Mary upon the litter and set off, taking the Indian prisoners with them, as they thought it not yet advisable to give them their liberty. The first day they made but a few miles, as they were obliged to stop, that they might procure some food. The party were left under a large tree, which was a good land-mark, under the charge of Captain Sinclair, while Malachi and Alfred went in search of game. At nightfall they returned with a deer which they had killed, when the Strawberry informed them that the Indian woman had told her, that about two miles to the southward there was a river which ran into the lake, and that there were two canoes belonging to the band, hauled up in the bushes on the beach; that the river was broad and swift, and would soon take them to the lake, by the sh.o.r.es of which they could paddle the canoe to the settlement. This appeared worthy of consideration, as it would in the end, perhaps, save time, and at all events allow Mary Percival to recover. They decided that they would go to the river, and take the canoes, as the Indian woman said that they were large enough to hold them all.

The next morning, guided by the Indian woman, they set off in the direction of the river, and arrived at it in the afternoon. They found the canoes, which were large, and in good order, and having carried them down to the beach, they resolved to put off their embarkation till the following day, as they were again in want of provisions for their subsistence. Alfred, Malachi and John went out this time, for Percival had shown himself so quiet and contented, and had gradually become so fond of being near Mary Percival, that he appeared to have awakened from his Indian dream, and renewed all his former a.s.sociations. They did not, therefore, think it necessary to watch him any more--indeed, he never would leave Mary's side, and began now to ask many questions, which proved that he had recalled to mind much of what had been forgotten during his long sojourn with the Indians. The hunters returned, having been very successful, and loaded with meat enough to last for four or five days. At daylight the next morning, they led the prisoners about half a mile into the woods, and, pointing to the north as to the direction they were to go, cast loose the deer-thongs which confined them, and set them at liberty. Having done this, they embarked in the canoes, and were soon gliding rapidly down the stream.

The river upon which they embarked, at that time little known to the Europeans, is now called the river Thames, and the town built upon it is named London. It falls into the upper part of Lake Ontario, and is a fine rapid stream. For three days they paddled their canoes, disembarking at night to sleep and cook their provisions, and on the fourth they were compelled to stop, that they might procure more food.

They were successful, and on the next day they entered the lake, about two hundred miles to the west of the settlement. Mary Percival was now quite recovered, and found her journey or voyage delightful; the country was in full beauty; the trees waved their boughs down to the river side, and they did not fall in with any Indians, or perceive any lodges on the bank. Sometimes they started the deer which had come down to drink in the stream, and on one occasion, as they rounded a point, they fell in with a herd which were in the water swimming across, and in this position they destroyed as many as they required for their food till they hoped to arrive at the settlement.

Percival was now quite reconciled to his removal from an Indian life, and appeared most anxious to rejoin his father and mother, of whom he talked incessantly; for he had again recovered his English, which, strange to say, although he perfectly understood it when spoken to, he had almost forgotten to p.r.o.nounce, and at first spoke with difficulty.

The weather was remarkably fine, and the waters of the lake were so smooth, that they made rapid progress, although they invariably disembarked at night. The only annoyance they had was from the musquitoes, which rose in clouds as soon as they landed, and were not to be dispersed until they had lighted a very large fire, accompanied with thick smoke; but this was a trifle compared with their joy at the happy deliverance of the prisoners, and success of their expedition.

Most grateful, indeed, were they to G.o.d for his mercies, and none more so than Mary Percival and Captain Sinclair, who never left her side till it was time to retire to rest.

On the sixth day, in the forenoon, they were delighted to perceive Fort Frontignac in the distance, and although the house at the settlement was hid from their sight by the point covered with wood which intervened, they knew that they were not above four or five miles distant. In less than another hour, they were abreast of the prairie, and landed at the spot where their own punt was moored. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell had not perceived the canoes, for, although anxiously looking out every day for the return of the party, their eyes and attention were directed on land, not having any idea of their return by water.

"My dear Alfred," said Mary, "I do not think it will be prudent to let my aunt see Percival at once; we must prepare her a little for his appearance. She has so long considered him as dead, that the shock may be too great."

"You say true, my dear Mary. Then we will go forward with Captain Sinclair and Malachi, and John. Let Percival be put in the middle of the remainder of the party, who must follow afterward, and then be taken up to Malachi's lodge. He can remain there with the Strawberry until we come and fetch him."

Having made these arrangements, to which Percival was with difficulty made to agree, they walked up as proposed, to the house. Outside of the palisade, they perceived Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, with their backs toward them, looking toward the forest, in the direction which the party had taken when they left. But when they were half-way from the beach, Henry came out with Oscar from the cottage, and the dog, immediately perceiving them, bounded to them, barking with delight. Henry cried out, "Father--mother, here they are,--here they come." Mr. and Mrs. Campbell of course turned round, and beheld the party advancing; they flew to meet them, and as they caught Mary in their arms, all explanation for a time was unnecessary--she was recovered, and that was sufficient for the time.

"Come, mother, let us go into the house, that you may compose yourself a little," said Alfred,--that she might not perceive Percival among the party that followed at a distance. "Let me support you. Take my arm."

Mrs. Campbell, who trembled very much, did so, and thus turned away from the group among whom Percival was walking. Emma was looking at them attentively, and was about to exclaim, when Captain Sinclair put his finger to his lips.

As soon as they arrived at the house, and had gone in, Alfred, in a few words, gave them an account of what had pa.s.sed--how successful they had been in their attempt, and how little they had to fear from the Indians in future.

"How grateful I am!" exclaimed Mrs. Campbell. "G.o.d be praised for all his mercies! I was fearful that I should have lost you, my dear Mary, as well as my poor boy. He is lost forever--but G.o.d's will be done."

"It is very strange, mother," said Alfred, "but we heard, on our journey, that the Indians had found a white boy in the woods."

"Alas! not mine."