Ticonderoga: A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley

CHAPTER XXIX CHAPTER XXIX On that part of Lake Champlain, or Corlear, as it was called by the Indians, where, quitting the narrow basin which it occupies from its southern extremity to some distance northward of Ticonderoga, it opens out into a broader sheet of water, and sweeps round the small peninsula of Crown Point, a large canoe was seen crossing to the Canada side, with some sixteen or seventeen persons on board, amongst whom were Edith Prevost and her companion, Woodchuck. There was no attempt at concealment, no creeping along under shelter of the banks, but boldly and openly the Indians paddled on, within range of the guns of the French fort, and then directly across the bows of two large, flat-bottomed boats or batteaux, accompanied by several light canoes, each of the latter containing six or seven men, which were going down the lake in the direction of Ticonderoga. From each of the larger boats the flag of France was conspicuously displayed; but as the strange canoe above mentioned seemed bearing straight for the shore, fully in possession of France, its movements, for a time, appeared to excite no attention. Neither the batteaux nor the other canoes altered their course, the men in the former continuing a shouted conversation in a mixed jargon, part French, part Indian, with their dusky companions in the lesser craft, who kept as nearly alongside as possible. At length, however, it would seem some suspicion was excited. Two figures, male and female, were discerned from the batteaux in the stern of the strange canoe, whose dress at once showed them to belong to none of the Indian tribes, and was also somewhat different from that of either the Canadian colonists or the native French. The two parties were now within less than a hundred yards of each other, and it seemed doubtful whether the large canoe would clear the eastern French boat without trouble. But suddenly a voice was raised loud in the foremost batteau and a question was put in French as to whither the others were bound, and who they were. The Indians were silent, for they did not understand the words addressed to them; but Woodchuck whispered eagerly: "Answer! answer! if you can speak their jargon. Rather be in the hands of French officers than these incarnate devils!" Edith's eyes had been cast down, and so full of bitter tears that she had seen nothing since they left the western shore. But now she looked up, and in an instant her presence of mind returned. It is true she did not speak at once, for she feared her voice would not reach the boat; but it was nearing the canoe fast, and in a moment after the question was repeated in a more peremptory and a more distinct tone. "Tell them we are allies of the great French chief," said Apukwa, who seemed to comprehend in some degree the meaning of the call. "Say we are going to join our Canadian father;" and he glared fiercely as he spoke. "We are English!" exclaimed Edith, in French, exerting her utmost power of voice. "We are English and Iroquois, going I know not whither!" Instantly, at a signal from the batteaux, the light canoes dashed out with extraordinary rapidity, and before any effectual effort could be made to escape, the larger canoe was surrounded, while the yells of the Hurons announced that they recognized at length a band of ancient enemies. With a fiend-like look at Edith, Apukwa drew his tomahawk from his belt; but the brother of the Snake spoke some words to him in a low tone, the weapon was replaced, the men ceased to work the paddles, and every face assumed the quiet stillness of perfect indifference. The yells and whoops of the Hurons still continued, so that one danger seemed only to be escaped to encounter a still greater. Their fierce faces and dark, half-naked forms, tattooed and painted, were seen all round, and the tomahawk and the knife were brandished, as if for immediate action. But one of the large boats bore right down amongst them, and soon grappled the canoe in which Edith and her companion were. A handsomely dressed, middle-aged man stood up in the stern, as it came near, and turning to an Indian who seemed a chief, by his side, said to him in French: "Keep your people quiet, Great Elk!" A few words were then spoken, or rather shouted, by the Indian to the others in the canoes, in a language which Edith did not at all understand, and in an instant every Huron sank down in silence, and the light skiffs lay quiet upon the water, or only moved slightly with the momentum they had already received from the paddles. Then raising his hat and plume, with an air of much grace, the French officer addressed Edith, saying: "Will you have the goodness to explain to me, mademoiselle, who and what you are, and how you came to be in the position in which I find you? I am sorry to be obliged to detain a lady, but you have too many men with you to suffer your canoe to pass." "I am the daughter of an English gentleman," replied Edith. "I have been attacked and captured with the friend who was escorting me from my father's house to that of Colonel Schneider; my two servants were murdered--at least one of them, I am sure, was. The Indians who are with me are Iroquois, who are taking me forcibly across the lake, toward Canada, and I have little doubt that I shall be put to death also, if you do not save me from their hands." "But this is a strange story, mademoiselle," said the officer. "The Iroquois and your countrymen are in alliance." "I cannot account for it," said Edith. "They are certainly Iroquois, for they speak no other language, except a few words of English. You must ask them what is the meaning of their conduct, if you have any on board who can speak their tongue." The officer turned once more to his Indian companion and addressed some words to him in French; but the chief shook his head, and then drawing his eyelids together, as if to see more distinctly, gazed into the canoe, scanning the persons of the Indians closely. "They are Iroquois," he said, at length. "Let us scalp them." This proposal the officer did not think fit to comply with, at least for the time, and he replied, with a laugh: "Wait a little, my friend. The Great Elk shall have scalping enough soon. We will take them ashore with us, at all events, and perhaps may learn more. Then, if they are really enemies, you may exercise your skill upon them to your heart's content. The lady and her English companion, however, I claim as my prisoners. Permit me, mademoiselle, to assist you into the boat. You will be safer here, and may trust to the honor and courtesy of a French gentleman." "I have no fears on that score, sir," answered Edith, rising; and, with the aid of the officer and Woodchuck, passing into the other boat, which, flat-bottomed and heavily laden, was not much higher above the water than the canoe. Woodchuck followed her closely, but not without exciting the wrath of the Honontkoh. They had sat ever since the canoe had been grappled by the boat with the most tranquil stillness. Not a limb, not a feature had moved; and to the eye of an observer ignorant of their habits, they would have seemed perfectly indifferent to all that was taking place. In fact, one of them appeared actually going to sleep; for the sun, which had now broken out after the storm, shone full on his face, and his eyes were closed, and his head bent. But the moment that Woodchuck put his foot over the side of the batteau a yell of disappointed rage burst from every lip; and, unable to contain himself, Apukwa arose and poured forth a few words of Huron, mixed with a good deal of Iroquois. "Hold your tongues!" exclaimed the French officer, waving his hand imperiously. "Tow them along behind us; and you, Great Elk, command your people to keep close round them and see they do not cut the rope and slip away." The orders were given as he directed, and the arrangements made; but when all was completed, and the boat was once more moving along the lake, the Indian by his side pulled the officer's sleeve, thus interrupting a speech he had just begun, with a gallant air, to Edith, and seemed to explain something to him in a low tone. "Well, we shall soon find out," said the Frenchman, with a gay laugh. "If they are Iroquois who are going to become Hurons, and take service under his majesty, we will make them fight for us where we are going. We shall not have too many hands to help us, Great Elk, and they'll make a good reinforcement to your party. As for the lady and her attendant, I will take care of them;" and turning to Edith, with a courteous smile, he spread his roquelaure in a more convenient part of the boat, and assisted her to seat herself more comfortably, saying: "Mademoiselle is a great deal too charming to travel any more with such savages. But may I know the name of this gentleman? Can he not speak French?" "Not a word, I believe," replied Edith. "That is singular," exclaimed the Frenchman, giving expression to the general feeling of his nation, who seem to believe that the French language is one of those blessings of God which it is strange He should deny to any of his creatures. "What is his name?" It instantly passed through the mind of Edith that if she gave her good companion the name of Captain Brooks she would be certain to cause his detention as a prisoner of war, and she therefore simply replied: "He is called Woodchuck." "Woodchuck!" exclaimed the Frenchman; "quel drol de nom! Is Monsieur Woodchuck in the army?" To the question, thus put, Edith could fairly answer in the negative, for Brooks, though he had seen no little fighting in his day, was merely one of those amateur soldiers, then very common in the provinces, who rarely missed an opportunity of joining some band of volunteers in times of war with France, or fighting upon their own hand, according to the Dutchman's expression, as one of the extensive class called stragglers. They generally bore away from the field, especially if they distinguished themselves, some military title, such as captain or major, without ever having commanded half a dozen men in their lives. After having asked hie questions, and settled his conduct, the French officer's next business was, of course, politeness, and he would fain have engaged his lovely companion in gay and lively conversation during the rest of their little voyage; but Edith, though her mind was greatly relieved to find herself freed from the power of the Honontkoh, had many a subject of melancholy contemplation to occupy her thoughts. There was the dark and dreary consideration of her brother's fate; there was the uncertainty of what might befall her father and her lover; there was the separation from all most dear to her; there was the doubt, even now, whether she might not herself be detained a prisoner amongst strangers; for the war in America had hitherto been conducted by the French upon principles the most barbarous and most opposed to the ordinary characteristics of the nation. The scene which succeeded the capture of Fort William Henry was a dark and damning fact, never to be obliterated from the minds of men; and although it has been put forth by an American author as the only stain upon the character of Montcalm, that author must surely have forgotten the violated capitulation of Oswego, the death of the gallant De la Court, and the scalping and massacre of the sick in the hospital. All that we can trust is that these barbarities were only permitted, not encouraged. But how can we account for or excuse, how can we even palliate, the witting and voluntary delivery of twenty of the garrison into the hands of the Indians, in direct violation of the articles of capitulation, to be tortured to death under the very eyes of the French soldiery, as compensation for the loss of twenty of the French Indians? It is a fact which has never been denied, or it would be too horrible for belief. Edith replied briefly, therefore, to the compliments and pretty speeches of her military companion, and in the meanwhile the boat proceeded rapidly over the surface of the lake, passed Crown Point, and entered the narrow portion of Lake Champlain, which stretches from that promontory to the spot where the Sounding Waters, as the Indians called the outlet of Lake George, flow into the greater lake, near Ticonderoga. The French officer, somewhat baffled in his attempts to make her speak, tried his fortune with Woodchuck, but with still less success; for to everything he said in French he received what can hardly be called an answer in English; and generally, it must be said, not a very civil one; for Brooks was filled with all the most unreasonable prejudices of his country, and never uttered the word "Frenchman" without coupling it with the epithet "rascally." The voyage was brought to a close, however, before night fell, for the boat stopped short by a mile or two of Ticonderoga, and considerably to the north of the spot where the ferry now exists. The scene would have appeared beautiful, had Edith's mind been free to enjoy it, for in front were seen the tops of the several bold eminences round the French fort, On the one side were those rich lands, varied at that time with scattered masses of forest, though now more highly cultivated, known as the New Hampshire grants, and to the westward a varied country, rising gradually to the foot of the Mohegan Mountains. The spot chosen for the landing was a secluded cove in the woods, where the shelving rocks broke through the soil and dipped gradually into the water. Boats and canoes were all speedily hauled up. The commander of the party, with delicate attention, handed Edith out, and then gave orders to his men to follow him, which was effected with rapidity and precision. The savages, under the orders of their chief, took care of the Iroquois prisoners, and apparently by no slight act of forbearance resisted the great temptation to possess themselves of their scalps. When all had disembarked the canoes were drawn safely up under concealment of the bushes on either side, and the voyageurs in the two larger boats pushed off and took their way up the lake again. "I fear, mademoiselle," said the captain of the French soldiers, who might have amounted to sixty or seventy, "I must trouble you to take a somewhat fatiguing promenade of some four or five miles; at least so I am told, for I have never been here myself, and do not know the distance." "Then are we not going to Fort Ticonderoga?" asked Edith. "Not so," replied the officer. "We are going a little beyond, and I shall have no opportunity of detaching any party whom I could trust to send you into the fort to-night. The Indians, indeed, could be spared--at least a sufficient number to escort you--but I should really be apprehensive from what I know of their habits, that you might not be quite so safe in their charge as under the protection of my musketeers, with your devoted servant at their head. We will endeavor to make you as comfortable as we can for the night, and I doubt not that early to-morrow I shall be visited by some superior officer, who will have the honor of conveying you to the fort." "Then am I to consider myself as a prisoner?" asked Edith, in a cold tone. "I did not know that it was the habit of French officers to make women captives." "No!" replied the Frenchman, with a graceful bow; "we ourselves are much more frequently their captives. But, my dear lady, within the limits of this garrison I myself have no command--am merely acting under orders, and feel myself imperatively bound to send you and your companion, Monsieur Woodchuck, to the commandant of the fortress, who will act, I am sure, as he finds befitting. I only regret that I cannot do so at once; but my orders are strict, my route marked out, and I am told to hasten across this small peninsula, as fast as possible without approaching the fortress. It is certainly a rather long walk, but if you feel fatigued I can easily make my men construct a little litter, and carry you. We shall find some preparation made for us where we are going, though, I am afraid, not very suitable for your use." Edith evidently saw that remonstrance was in vain; and saying that she should prefer to walk, she took the arm of Woodchuck, and explained to him as they went all that had passed between her and the Frenchman. "I guess he is going to form an ambuscade," said Woodchuck. "If so, Miss Prevost, our army must be near, and we shall be long in their hands. I wish to heaven I could get away from them, and had but a horse to carry me," he added, thoughtfully, and with a sigh. "But it's no use wishing. God knows his own ways best! Them Hurons look very much as if they would eat the Oneidas before they've done. Pray God they mayn't take such a fancy to us, too!" Thus saying, he took the place which was assigned to him and Edith in the march. A number of Indians preceded, several little parties moved upon the flanks, the small body of French infantry moved on two abreast, for the trail was barely wide enough for that number. Woodchuck and Edith followed them, and the French officer, with the Indian whom he called Great Elk, walked next, succeeded by the Iroquois prisoners, a large quantity of baggage, borne on men's shoulders, and the remainder of the Huron auxiliaries. It was now twilight in the forest, and for more than an hour after darkness had fallen upon the earth the weary and somewhat perilous march was continued. Once a small stream was crossed, Woodchuck taking up his fair companion in his sturdy arms and bearing her over like an infant. Nothing of any note occurred, except a slow and low-toned conversation in the rear, which led Edith to believe that the Iroquois, her late captors, had found some of the other band of natives with whom they could converse; but she could not distinguish anything that was said. Weary and exhausted, the sight of a fire at length glimmering through the trees was an exceedingly pleasant sight to her eyes, and a minute or two after a scene presented itself which might have seemed dreary and comfortless enough under other circumstances, but which looked cheerful and comfortable after that long and miserable march. The trail which they had followed terminated in a small open space, flanked on three sides by low earthworks of no very regular construction, but evidently designed by an experienced military hand. The outer surface of these works was partially concealed by a thicket, and great care had been taken not only to preserve the brambles and the large-leaved raspberry, but to fill every gap in this shrubbery screen with branches of pine, and hemlock, and maple. Within these embankments the ground had, to a certain extent, been cleared, though two or three of the larger trees had been left standing, to prevent a vacancy being apparent from without. About the middle of the open space a number of rude huts had been erected, of small felled trees and branches; and before one, somewhat larger than the rest, a sentinel was seen planted, who, at the moment Edith came in sight, stood motionless, presenting arms, as his comrades filed into the little quadrangle. Behind the soldier, and between him and the huts, was a large blazing fire, which threw out his dark figure, sharply outlined upon the flame. "Ah! this will do," said the French commander, in a tone of relief. "The commandant has been careful of us. Mademoiselle, I welcome you to my redoubt, and will do my best to make the evening pass pleasantly for you. Now bring in the baggage. Tell the cook to get supper ready; and you, Pierrot, see that hut properly arranged for this young lady's accommodation. I calculated on sleeping upon a very comfortable bearskin to-night, but I will most willingly resign it to you, mademoiselle, in the hope of your passing a good night's rest." Edith would fain have declined accepting a sacrifice so enhanced, but the captain insisted; and his servant, whom he called Pierrot, at once set about the preparations for her comfort with a degree of skill and dexterity truly French. In the meantime, while Edith, sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, waited till all was ready, and while a group of stragglers unpacked the baggage which had just been deposited from the sturdy shoulders of the bearers, the French officer called his friend, the Huron chief, to council; and Apukwa and the other Oneidas were brought before him, accompanied by two young Hurons, who undertook to act as interpreters. Many were the questions asked, and what between the captain's ignorance of Indian manners, and the interpreters' ignorance both of the French and Iroquois, the worthy officer seemed completely puzzled. At length, however, after consulting the Great Elk in a low voice, he exclaimed: "Tell them, if their tale be really true--though I've got my doubts, for I never heard of Free Masons amongst Indians before, and that must be what you mean by Honontkoh--but if their tale be really true, they may stay here with us, and prove their devotion to His Majesty Louis the Fifteenth, King of France, by fighting the English at our side. They shall be sharply watched, however," he added, in a low voice, as if speaking to himself. Apukwa heard his words translated, and then, saying something in reply, pointed to Edith and her English companion with a look of too much meaning to be misunderstood. "Nothing of the kind," answered the French officer, without waiting for the words which seemed about to follow. "Tell him there's but one choice, either to prove their story and their loyalty by fighting on our side, or to pass under the fire of these gentlemen," and he laid his hand upon a pile of muskets which stood close beside him. This intimation was quite sufficient. The Honontkoh agreed to stay and fight without any further conditions, and the Frenchman then gave strict orders, both to his own soldiers and the Hurons--by whom they were much more likely to be efficiently obeyed--that their very doubtful allies should be kept continually in sight. He then seemed to cast all thought of the affair behind him, and turned toward Edith, who was already in the hut, saying: "I hope, mademoiselle, Pierrot has taken good care of you." "With all the skill and courtesy of a Frenchman, monsieur," she answered, really pleased with the attention and almost fatherly kindness of the soldier who had been arranging the hut. "Then, now, as you have the means of rest, it only remains to provide you with meat and drink," said the officer. "I see they have spread my tablecloth on the grass there. Will you and your friend come and partake of my fare? Pray make my words understood to him." Woodchuck readily agreed to accept the Frenchman's hospitality, but Edith declined taking anything more than a little bread and some wine, alleging that she needed rest more than anything. The French officer, however, would not be content with this, but with his own hands brought her some savory messes which would not have disgraced a Parisian dinner table, some choice wine, and, what was still more valuable to her, a small lamp. He then closed the hurdle door of the hut upon her and returned to his meal with Woodchuck, keeping up with him for half an hour a sort of conversation by words and signs, one-half of which was probably unintelligible to both. The Frenchman then took possession of another hut, and invited Woodchuck to share it with him for the night; but the stout woodsman declined any covering but the sky, and stretching himself across Edith's door, was soon in profound slumber. CHAPTER XXX We must go back for a very short time to the spot whence Edith and her Oneida captors set out upon what proved to the latter an unfortunate voyage across Lake Champlain, and to the very moment after their canoe had left the shore. The Long House, as the Five Nations were pleased to call their territory, extended from the great lakes and a point far west, to the banks of the Hudson and Lakes Huron and Champlain; but, as is always the case in border countries, the frontier was often crossed, both by wandering or predatory bands of Hurons and other nations under the sway of France, and by outlaws from the Iroquois tribes attached to England. The peculiar habits and laws of the Indian tribes rendered the incorporation of fugitives with other nations a very easy matter, although the language of the Five Nations would seem to be radically different from that of the tribes originally inhabiting the seaboard of America. Indeed, on the western shore of Lake Champlain not a few pure Hurons were to be found; for that tribe, during the successful campaigns of France against England, with which what is called the French and Indian war commenced, had somewhat encroached upon the Iroquois territory, supported in their daring by the redoubted name of Montcalm. With some of these, it would seem, Apukwa and his companions had entered into a sort of tacit alliance, and toward their dwellings they had directed their steps after their attack upon Edith and her little escort, in the expectation of readily finding a canoe to waft them over the lake. At first they had been disappointed, for the barks which had been there the day before were gone; and when they did find the canoe in which they ultimately commenced their voyage, the avaricious old man to whom it belonged would not let them use it without a world of bargaining; and it cost them a considerable portion of the little stock of ornaments and trinkets which they had found in Edith's plundered baggage, before the Huron consented to lend them that which they did not dare take by force. Thus more than an hour was passed, after they reached the lake shore, before they departed; and their taking their course so boldly across the bows of the French boats was more a matter of necessity than choice, although they little doubted a good reception from the inveterate enemies of England. No sooner, however, had the canoe shot out into the water than the figure of a tall, dark woman emerged from the bushes of the low point under which the skiff had lain, and she began wringing her hands with every appearance of grief and anxiety. "O, what will poor massa do!" she cried, in a piteous voice. "What will poor massa do! Him son killed, him daughter stolen, and Chaudo tomahawked! Ah, me! ah, me! What will we all do?" Her imprudent burst of grief had nearly proved destructive to poor Sister Bab. The old Huron had turned him quietly toward a small birch bark cabin in the forest hard by, and would never have remarked the poor negress if she had confined the expression of her cares to mere gesture; but her moans and exclamations caught the quick ear of the savage, and he turned and saw her plainly, gazing after the canoe. With no other provocation than a taste for blood, he stole quietly through the trees, with the soft, gliding, noiseless motion peculiar to his race, and making a circuit so as to conceal his advance, he came behind the poor creature just as she beheld the canoe which bore away her young mistress stopped and surrounded by the little flotilla of the French. Another moment would have been fatal to her, for the Indian was within three yards, when a large rattlesnake suddenly raised itself in his path and made him recoil a step. Whether attracted by the small, but never-to-be-forgotten sound of the reptile's warning, or some noise made by the Huron in suddenly drawing back, the poor negress turned her head and saw her danger. With a wild scream she darted away toward the lake, The savage sprang after her with a yell, and though old he retained much of the Indian lightness of foot. Onward toward the shore he drove her, meditating each moment to throw his hatchet if she turned to the right or left. But Sister Bab was possessed of qualities which would not have disgraced any of his own tribe, and even while running at her utmost speed she contrived continually to deprive him of his aim. Not a tree, not a shrub, not a mass of stone that did not afford her a momentary shelter, and of every inequality of the ground she took advantage. Now she whirled sharply round the little shoulder of the hill; now, as the tomahawk was just balanced to be thrown with more fatal certainty, she sprang down a bank which almost made the Indian pause. Then she plunged head foremost, like a snake, through the thick brushwood, and again appeared in a different spot from that where he had expected to see her. Still, however, he was driving her toward the lake, at a spot where the shores were open, and where he felt certain of overtaking her. On she went, however, to the very verge of the lake, gazed to the right and left, and seeing with apparent consternation that the banks rounded themselves on both sides, forming a little bay, near the center of which she stood, she paused for a single instant, as if in despair. The Huron sprang after with a wild whoop, clutching the tomahawk firmly to strike the fatal blow. But Sister Bab was not yet in his grasp, and with a bold leap she sprang from the ledge into the water. Her whole form instantly disappeared, and for at least a minute her savage pursuer stood gazing at the lake in surprise and disappointment, when suddenly he saw a black object appear at the distance of twenty or thirty yards, and suddenly sink again. A few moments after it rose once more, still farther out, and then the brave woman was seen striking easily away toward the south. Rendered only more eager by the chase, and more fierce by disappointment, the Huron ran swiftly along the shore, thinking that he could easily tire her out or cut her off; but, in sunny waters in far distant lands, she had sported with the waves in infancy, and taking the chord of the bow where he was compelled to take the arc, she gained in distance what she lost in speed. So calm was she, so cool, that turning her eyes from her pursuer, she gazed over the water in the direction where she had seen her beloved young mistress carried, and had the satisfaction of beholding the canoe towed along by one of the French boats. Why she rejoiced she hardly knew, for her notions on such matters were not very definite; but anything seemed better than to remain in the hands of the murderers of poor Chaudo. Her thoughts were still of Edith, and she asked herself: "Where are they taking her to, I wonder. Perhaps I may come up with them if that redskin would but leave off running along by the shore and let me land and cross the narrow point. He may run the devil foot. He can't catch Bab. I'll dive again. He think her drowned." Her resolution was instantly executed; and whether it was that her stratagem was successful, or that the Huron had less than Indian perseverance and gave up the chase, when she rose again she saw him turning toward the woods, as if about to go back to his lodge. But Bab had learned caution, and she pursued her way toward the small peninsula where stood the French fort of Crown Point, which at the period I speak of had been nearly stripped of its garrison to reinforce Ticonderoga. She chose her spot, however, with great care, for though in her wanderings she had made herself well acquainted with the country, she was, of course, ignorant of the late movements of the troops, and fancied that the French posts extended as far beyond the walls of the fortress as they had formerly done. A little woody island, hardly separated from the mainland, covered her approach, and the moment her feet touched the shore she darted away into the forest and took the trail which led nearly due south. The neck of the point was soon passed, and once more she caught sight of the French boats still towing the canoe on which her thoughts so particularly rested. The short detention of the French party, and the advantage she gained by her direct course across the point, had put her a little in advance, and she ran rapidly on till she reached the mouth of the small river now called Putnam's Creek, which, being flooded by the torrents of rain that had fallen in the earlier part of the day, made her pause for a moment, gazing at the rushing and eddying waters coming down, and doubting whether she had strength left to swim across it. The boats, by this time, were somewhat in advance, and when she gazed after them she naturally came to the conclusion that they were bound for what she called, after the Indian fashion, Cheeonderoga. Suddenly, however, as she watched, she saw their course altered, and it soon became evident that they intended to land considerably north of the fort. Running up the creek, then, till she found a place where she could pass, she followed an Indian trail through the woods, lying a little to the west of the present line of road, and at length reached an eminence nearly opposite to Shoreham--a spur of Mount Hope, in fact--when she once more caught a view of the lake, just in time to see the disembarkation of the French troops and the Indians. Notwithstanding her great strength, the poor negress was by this time exceedingly tired; but still that persevering love which is one of the brightest traits of her unfortunate race, carried her on. "If I can catch sight of them again," she thought, "I can carry ole massa tidings of where she is." Encouraged by this idea, she pushed on without pause; but night overtook her before she had seen any more of the party, and poor Bab's spirit began to fail. More slowly she went, somewhat doubtful of her way, and in the solitude, the darkness, and the intricacy of the woods, fears began to creep over her which were not familiar to her bosom. At length, however, she thought she heard voices at a distance, and a minute or two after she found herself on the bank of a small brook. She paused and listened. The voices were now more audible, and without hesitation she crossed and crept cautiously along in the direction from which the sounds came. A moment or two after, the flickering of a fire through the trees attracted her attention, and more and more carefully she crept on upon her hands and knees, through the low brush, still seeing the blaze of the firelight, when she raised her eyes, but unable to perceive the spot whence it proceeded. A small pine, cut down, next met her hand as she crept along, and then a number of loose branches tossed together; and now Sister Bab began to get an inkling of the truth. "It must be what dey call an ambush," she thought, and raising herself gently, she found that she was close to a bank of earth over which the firelight was streaming. The sounds of voices were now distinctly heard, but she could not understand one word, for it seemed to her that they were speaking in two different languages, if not more, but each of them was strange to her. At one time she fancied she heard Edith's voice, but still the language spoken was a strange one, and although the bank of earth was not more than shoulder high, she did not venture at first to rise to her whole height in order to look over it. At length, however, came some words of English, and the voice, which she judged to be Edith's, was plainly heard, saying: "This gentleman is asking you, my good friend, if you will not go and take some supper with him where the people have spread a cloth yonder." Bab could resist no more, but raised herself sufficiently to bring her eyes above the top of the breastwork, and gazed over into the little rude redoubt. On the right, and at the farther part of the enclosure, were a number of Indians seated on the ground; and, besides the fire already burning, several others were being piled up amidst the various groups of natives. Somewhat on the left, and stretching well nigh across the western side of the other space, were the French soldiers, in groups of five or six, with their arms piled near them. Other straggling parties were scattered over the ground, and two sentinels, with musket on shoulder, appeared on the other side of the redoubt; but the group which attracted the poor woman's chief attention was on her right, near a spot where some small huts had been erected. It consisted of three persons, a gaily dressed French officer, a man in the garb of a soldier, but with his arms cast aside, and lastly, a short, powerful man, in a yellowish-brown hunting shirt, whom Sister Bab at once recognized as her old acquaintance the Woodchuck. That sight was quite enough, and sinking down again amongst the bushes, she crept slowly away to a little distance, and there lay down to meditate as to what was next to be done. At one time she was tempted to enter the French redoubt and remain with her young mistress. Several considerations seemed in favor of this course; and let it be no imputation upon poor Bab that hunger and the savory odors which came wafted over the earthwork were not without their influence. But then she thought: "If I do, how will ole Massa ever know where Missy is?" and this remembrance enabled her to resist the strong temptation. "I will stay here and rest till the moon get up," thought the poor woman. "I know dey must be coming up de lake by dis time, and I can catch dem before to-morrow." To prevent herself from sleeping too long if slumber should overtake her, she crept farther out of the thick wood and seated herself in a more open spot, with her clasped hands over her knees, but with nothing else to support her. Various sorts of fears suggested themselves to her mind as she thus sat; but oppressive weariness was more powerful than thought, and in a few moments her head was nodding. Often she woke up during the first hour, but then she slept more profoundly, bending forward till her forehead touched her knees. It is probable, too, that she dreamed, for in the course of the next two hours several broken sentences issued from her lips in a low murmur. At length, however, she woke with a start, and found the moon silvering the whole sky to the eastward, where some bold heights towered up, still obscuring the face of the orb of night. She sat and gazed somewhat bewildered, hardly knowing where she was. But the musical voice of the falling waters, which have gained for the outlet of Lake Horicon an ever enduring name, and the grand outline of Mount Defiance seen through the trees, soon showed her that she was on that narrow point of land lying between Front Brook and the falls. She waited till the moon had fully risen, and then stole quietly away again, keeping a southwestern course nearly up the current of the brook, and for three hours she pursued her way with a rapid and untiring foot. She had no idea of the time, and wondered if the day would never break. But the moonlight was beautifully clear, and the calm beams, as if they had some affinity with the woodland solitude, seemed to penetrate through the branches and green leaves even more easily than can the sunshine. Her fears had now nearly passed away, for she knew that she must be far beyond the French and Huron posts, and could only expect to meet with the scouts and outposts of the English army, or with parties of friendly Indians, and she consequently went on without care or precaution. Suddenly she found herself emerging from the wood into one of those low, open savannas, of which I have already spoken, close to the spot where the embers of a fire were till glowing. The grass was soft and her tread was light, but the sleep of the Indian is lighter still, and in an instant three or four warriors started up around her. "I am a friend! I am a friend!" cried the negress in the Iroquois tongue. "Who be you--Mohawks?" "Children of the Stone," replied the man nearest to her, gazing at her earnestly by the moonlight. "I have seen the Dark Cloud before, but does she not dwell in the house of our brother Prevost?" "Yes, yes!" cried Sister Bab, eagerly. "I'm his slave girl, Bab, who came to the Oneida Castle with my own Missy. But now she is the prisoner of bad men, and I have escaped, tired and hungry, and am nearly dead!" "Come with me," said the Indian. "I will take thee where thou shalt have rest to comfort thee and meat to support thee, till the Black Eagle come. He will not be long, for he will keep the warpath night and day till he is here, and his wings are swift." The poor woman shuddered at the name of the terrible chief, for it was closely connected in her mind with the circumstances of her young master's fate; but wearied and exhausted, the prospect of food and repose was a blessing, and she followed the Indian in silence to the other side of the savanna. CHAPTER XXXI Sixteen thousand gallant men, led by a brave and experienced general, and supported by a fine, though not very large park of artillery, seemed certainly sufficient for the reduction of a small fortress not very well garrisoned, nor supplied with any great abundance of stores. But it seemed the fate of English officers in North America to adhere strictly to all ancient rules, when ancient rules could be of no service in face of a new and totally different mode of warfare, and to abandon those rules at times and in circumstances when only they could be available. A large fleet of bateaux had been collected at the southern extremity of Lake George, ready to transport the troops to the destined point of attack; and a council of the most experienced officers was held on the evening of the third of July, to consider the farther proceedings of the army. All had now assembled at what was then commonly called in the province "Fort Lyman," although the name was already formally changed to "Fort Edward." General Abercrombie was there in person, and a number of other officers appeared at the council likewise, whose experience in Indian warfare was superior to his own. There is much reason to believe that had Abercrombie's own opinion been followed in acting against a French fort, under French command, all the operations would have been conducted in the same manner, and upon the same system which would have guided a similar enterprise in Europe, and thus much bloodshed and some disgrace would have been spared. It was represented to the commander-in-chief, however, that numerous bodies of Indians were acting upon the side of France; that all operations carried on according to European rules had hitherto failed in America, and more than one bloody disaster was held up as a warning to his eyes; which he unhappily suffered to bias his own better judgment. In a word, as it was known that every day fresh reinforcements were being thrown into Ticonderoga, large bodies of Indians being collected for its defence, and preparations of every kind in progress, it was determined that a sudden and rapid rush should be made upon the fort, and that no consideration should be put in competition with celerity of movement and boldness of attack. Lord H---- alone represented that, from what he had personally learned during the last six months, it was absolutely necessary to employ cannon; though, perhaps with a want of proper confidence in his own reputation, he offered to lead the advanced parties, lest the opinion he expressed should seem to anyone to savor of timidity. At as early an hour as possible the march commenced along what was called the King's road; and in high spirits, regiment after regiment entered the forest, confident in their numbers and their prowess. The regular troops pursued the well constructed causeway, while clouds of Mohawks were scattered on the flanks, sweeping the forest ground on either side. The artillery, on the heavy and clumsy carriages of that day, the tumbrels and the baggage wagons, came lumbering in the rear, and a large troop of stragglers followed, comprising the scouts, who might have been much more advantageously employed in the front, but who, for some reason unexplained, had very little service assigned to them on the expedition. General Abercrombie and his staff, with several of the superior officers, followed slowly behind all the rest, well aware that the advance of the forces would meet with no opposition, at least upon the first day's march. To this group, from every quarter, came numerous messengers throughout the day, some bringing news of a fresh levy marching up from the eastern States; some, from the front, seeking clearer orders when any little difficulty or impediment occurred; some from Albany, with intelligence from that city or New York: and several Indian runners from the west, bearing more important tidings from the Indian tribes, now all in movement to support their British allies. Amongst the rest appeared the silent runner Proctor, with a letter to General Abercrombie, who, as soon as he had read it, turned to Lord H----, saying: "This is a communication from your friends the Oneidas, my lord, but written by some Englishman who signs himself 'Gore.' He states that a war party of the nation is already on the western bank of the lake, and that the main body, under Black Eagle himself, is expected in the course of the day. I suppose we may therefore consider ourselves secure upon our left flank." "Undoubtedly," replied Lord H----, with a look of anxiety which almost induced the Commander-in-chief to believe that he did entertain doubts which he did not choose to express. "You think so, I presume," said Abercrombie, gazing at him. "Entirely," replied Lord H----; "but I was in hopes of hearing some other intelligence of a private nature, concerning Mr. Prevost's son, whose alarming position amongst the Oneidas I mentioned to you, if you recollect." "There is nothing more," said General Abercrombie, handing him the letter; "but there is the messenger. Probably he can give you some information." Lord H---- immediately turned toward Proctor, who was running at a sort of trot by the side of the general's horse, and inquired if he had been at the Castle of the Oneidas. The man shook his head and trotted on. "Then where did you last come from?" asked Lord H----; but Proctor only lifted his hand and pointed toward the northwest. "How many miles?" demanded the young nobleman, determined to get some speech out of him. The man lifted up his hands three times with the ten fingers spread abroad, without opening his lips. "Did you hear, amongst those who sent you," asked Lord H----, "any tidings of young Mr. Prevost?" The man shook his head, but then suddenly stopped in his trot, and said, as if upon recollection: "They thought he had been put to death." He paused, as if what he had said had cost him a great effort, but then added, slowly, when he saw the painful expression of the young nobleman's countenance: "They only thought. They did not know. They left before." "Did you see or hear of a man whom you know as Woodchuck--the man you saw with me at Albany?" asked Lord H----; but the other shook his head, and nothing more could be extracted from him. The man was then sent forward to join the rear guard, but his taciturnity gave Lord H---- good assurance that Mr. Prevost, who had gone forward, would not be pained by the terrible rumor which he bore. The long and fatiguing march to the nearest point of Lake Horicon I need not describe. Many of the scenes recorded in the life of the gallant Putnam passed near or on the very route pursued; and the feats of daring and the escapes of that fine soldier are almost as marvelous still in our eyes as in those of the savage Indians of his own time, who supposed him to bear a charmed life. Suffice it that, after encountering great difficulty and some fatigue, in dragging the cannon over a road which, in the neighborhood of the settled portion of the colony was good enough, but which became almost impassable near the lake, in consequence of the heavy rains, the whole army arrived in safety at the newly constructed and yet incomplete works of Fort George, lying a little east of the site of the ever memorable Fort William Henry. By the care and diligence of the commissary general, everything that could refresh the weary soldiers was found prepared. A fleet of one hundred and thirty-five large boats and nine hundred bateaux were seen lying along the shore of the lake of pure and holy waters; and hardly a head was laid down to slumber in the huts that night which did not fondly fancy that Ticonderoga must inevitably fall. As usual with him, in camp or on the march, Lord H---- dined with his soldiers, and shared their simple fare; but he passed the evening with Mr. Prevost, who had found quarters in the fort. Both were grave, but the deeper gravity was with Lord H----; for though, through the mind of the elder man continually flitted painful fancies--thoughts, images, or whatever they may be called--of the fate of Brooks, and his lips murmured twice, almost involuntarily, the words "Poor Woodchuck!" yet the certainty which he felt of the safety of his son, however great the sacrifice which purchased it, was a comfort, a great, a mighty consolation, although he almost reproached himself for the sensation of rejoicing which he could not help experiencing. Lord H----, on the contrary, felt no such certainty. Ever since his conversation with Proctor, if conversation it can be called, a gloomy feeling of apprehension had rested on him. He did not doubt poor Woodchuck in the least; he was sure that he would hold fast to his resolution. Neither had he any fears that the execution of his purpose would be delayed or prevented by any such accident as that which had in reality occurred. But he asked himself: "Might he not come too late?" They had been told the time allowed by the Oneida chief to provide a substitute for Walter, and had taken it at the European calculation of months; but since he heard that a rumor of the young man's death was prevalent amongst the Indians, he doubted whether there had not been a mistake. The very rumor showed that some of the natives, at least, imagined the time had expired, and implied that their calculation was different. The effect upon the mind of Edith, he knew, would be terrible, when she found that her brother might have been saved, but that his life had been lost by such a mistake. From Mr. Prevost he strove to hide his apprehensions as far as possible, knowing well that previous anxiety never diminishes an inevitable evil; and soon after nightfall he left him to seek thought in his own tent. The sky was clear and cloudless; the stars shining out with a largeness and a luster such as European skies can never give. A light breeze stirred the waters of the lake and made them musical along the shore, and one of the voyageurs was singing a tranquil song of home in a clear, mellow voice, as he sat in his bark. The air was mild and gentle as a morning dream, and yet the whole had that solemn calmness which is always allied to melancholy. He sat there long; no inclination to sleep interrupted his reveries, notwithstanding the fatigue of the day; and at length the moon rose over the high eastern hills, showing an unrivaled scene of solemn beauty. The young nobleman rose, and after gazing round him for a few moments, drinking in, as it were, the solemn loveliness, he then walked on slowly toward the blackened remains of Fort William Henry. There was little to be seen there. Montcalm had not left his work half done; for all had been destroyed, and little beyond some irregularities in the ground, and some large detached fragments of masonry, showed where so many gallant men had fought in their country's cause, only to be slaughtered after surrender by a treacherous enemy. By report he knew the ground well, and after pausing for a minute or two amongst the ruins, he turned down the dark and fearful dell where the horrible massacre was perpetrated. Every rock around had echoed to the yell of the Indians, the groan of the dying soldiers, or the shrieks of defenceless women and children. Every tree had seen beneath its boughs some of the deeds of horror and of blood which went to make up that great crime. The bones of hundreds were lying still unburied; and when the moonlight fell on the western side of the gorge, some portion of a woman's garment, caught upon a bush, was seen fluttering in the breeze. The immediate path along which Lord H---- went was still in profound shadow; but suddenly, across the moonlit side a little in advance of him, he saw gliding along, with noiseless steps, a troop of eight or ten shadowy forms, looking like ghosts in the pale moonlight. So much was their color the same as the rocks around, that you might almost fancy you saw through them, and that they were but the shadows from some other objects, cast upon the broken crags as they passed. Lord H---- stood and gazed, when suddenly the band stopped; and, comprehending that he had been perceived, he challenged them in English, judging at once that they must be a troop of friendly Indians. A deep voice replied in the same language, but with a strong Indian accent: "We are friends, children of the Stone. Can you tell us where to find Prevost?" As he spoke, the leader of the Indians had advanced nearer, down the sloping ground at the foot of the rocks, and there seemed something in his tall, powerful form, and majesty of carriage, familiar to the eyes of the young nobleman, who exclaimed: "Is that the Black Eagle?" "It is," answered the other, whose limited knowledge of English did not suffer him to indulge in his usual figurative language. "Art thou the Falling Cataract?" "I am he to whom you gave that name," answered Lord H----; "but what want you with Mr. Prevost? Where is his son?" "On yonder side of Horicon," answered the Indian chief, pointing with his hand toward the western side of the lake. "The boy is safe; be thy mind at rest." Lord H---- took the hand he proffered, and pressed it in his; but at the same time he asked: "And poor Woodchuck--what of him?" "I know not," answered Black Eagle. "We have not beheld him." "That is strange," answered the young nobleman. "He set out to deliver himself up to you, to save the young man's life." "He is brave," answered Black Eagle. "The Good Spirit kept him away." "Then how was the boy delivered?" asked Lord H----. "We feared your people would be inexorable." "The Great Spirit spoke by the voices of the women," answered the chief. "She who sees beyond the earth in her visions heard the voice and told its words. It was decreed that if the boy died, our wives, our daughters, our sisters should all die with him; and we listened to the voice, and obeyed." "Come with me quickly," said Lord H----, eagerly. "Let us carry the news to Mr. Prevost. He is here at the fort now, holding an office in our army." "I know it," replied Black Eagle. "I have been to his lodge, and found no one but the slaves, who told me. The boy I sent on with my people, for the children of the Stone have taken the warpath for England, and a thousand warriors are on their way to the place of the sounding waters. He goes to fight amongst us as our son. But I must speak with Prevost before I go, for the wings of the Black Eagle are spread, perhaps for his last flight; and who knows but he will leave his scalp on the warpost of the Huron?" Lord H---- led the way with a quick step, and the chief and his companions followed. At the first outpost they were, of course, challenged, and strict orders having been given to admit no troop of Indians within the limits of the fort, the young nobleman and the chief proceeded alone to the quarters of Mr. Prevost. They found him still up, and busily writing orders for the following morning. When he beheld the face of Black Eagle following his noble friend, he started up, and at first drew back; but then, with a sudden change of feeling, he seized the warrior's hand, exclaiming: "My son lives! My son lives, or you would not be here!" "He lives," replied the Black Eagle; and he then proceeded to give the same account to Mr. Prevost which had been heard by Lord H----. The former, however, understanding the Indian better, soon drew from him, partly in English, and partly in Iroquois, the whole particulars of Walter's deliverance. "And would you really have slain him?" asked Mr. Prevost. "I would," replied Black Eagle, calmly and firmly. "I would have torn out my own heart had the laws of my people required it!" The father mused for a few moments, and then said, in a thoughtful tone: "I believe you would. Dear Otaitsa, did she really, then, peril her life to save her young friend?" "She did more," answered Black Eagle. "She was one of those who prepared to go to the happy hunting grounds with him; but I tell thee, Prevost, not the sight of my child, with the knife in her hand, ready to plunge it into her own heart, made the Black Eagle pause or hesitate. It was that we heard the voice of the Great Spirit in the words that were spoken. He only can change the laws of the Oneida, and He changed them. But now hear me, Prevost, for I must back to my people and thy son. I sent them forward toward the Sounding Waters, while I sought thee, first at thy lodge and then here; and I must join them, for they must not throw a hatchet or fire a rifle without the Black Eagle." He had seated himself when first he entered, but now he rose and stood erect, as if about to make a speech. "There is a blossom on the bough of the Black Eagle's tree," he said, "which is dear to his eyes, and thou hast a bough on thy tree which is dear to thee. Otaitsa is a Christian--believes in your Good Spirit. She is descended from a race of warriors, every one of whom has left a name in the hearts of their people. She is of the highest race of the highest tribe of the children of the Stone. The blood of the redman is as fine as the blood of the white. Her mother was the daughter of a great chief, and of a race as good as thine own; a race that is renowned." Mr. Prevost bent down his head, but he knew the Indian customs too well to interrupt, and the chief went on, saying: "The Blossom loves the Bough; the Bough loves the Blossom. She has purchased him, she has bought him for herself; she has offered her heart's blood for his price. Is he not hers? If the Black Eagle should never return from his war flight, if the bullet of the French should break his wing, or the arrow of the Huron pierce his heart, will his brother Prevost bind the Blossom and the Bough together as the white men bind them, and as the Christian people unite those who love, together? Will he take the Blossom to his own home, and make her indeed his daughter?" Mr. Prevost rose and threw his arms round the chief, saying: "Thou art my brother. I will do as thou hast said, and may the Good Spirit deal with me as I deal with thee in this matter. Thy daughter is my daughter, my son is thy son. But thou knowest not, perhaps----" Black Eagle raised his hand, saying in Iroquois: "Forbear! I know what I know; thou knowest what thou knowest. We may believe much that it is not right to prove. Silence is a good thing when secrets are dangerous. Now go I to my people with my heart at rest;" and without more words he glided out of the room.

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