A few rods more brought the party into the little clearing surrounding the cabin of the Hintons. If David had before felt a hope that the invaders would pass the cabin, it was doomed now to an utter extinguishment. Favoured by the darkness, the hostile warriors glided into the clearing, and in a moment the devoted habitation was surrounded by hundreds of the red fiends, eager for the blood of innocence.
The pain and anxiety of the scout can be well imagined.
For some minutes David awaited, with anxiety, the expected onset. Still, all was silent. Filled with vague apprehensions, he crawled nearer, to gain a more extensive view. Finding himself unopposed, he worked his way into the clearing, and scanned the prospect before him. Between the dwelling and its present position, several smaller cabins had been erected, shutting the former from his view. He could perceive a large number of savages about the buildings. To gain a point from which to make another observation, he must move some thirty rods to the eastward, and, as the quickest mode of reaching the place, he returned at once to the wood. Here he met no restraint, and had nearly reached the coveted position, when he espied a crouching figure directly in his path.
The first thought of the scout was to spring to cover; but, before he had time to execute it, the query which broke from the savage, in his authoritative tones, changed the purpose.
“My brave! Where goest thou?” was the demand of the Indian, in the dialect of the Winnebagoes.
The question revealed to David two important facts! The person before him was a chief, unaware of the character of the scout. They were within two yards of each other at the moment, and David cared not to waste time. With a peculiar motion, he glided a pace nearer the waiting chief, and, with a movement like the rapid sweep of thought, whirled his rifle through the air, bringing its heavy breech full upon the painted scalp of the Indian. Without a sound, he fell to the earth, his skull cloven in twain.
“One imp the less, to gloat over the poor women and children they will murder. I hate to spill blood, but that’s what they’re here for, and they must reap what they sow. But it’s uncommon curious what keeps them so still.”
Glancing around, to make sure he was not running into an ambuscade, a few rapid steps carried him forward to the point selected for his reconnaissance. Here it was soon apparent what had kept the savages so silent. Large piles of rubbish had been gathered about the principal cabin, to which fire had been applied in many places. The scout gazed silently upon the spectacle, while his clenched hands and fierce expression showed how terrible was the rage within that bosom.
“Oh, my poor friends!” he mused. “I am to blame for all this – I who might have saved you. But, burn on! There shall be a fearful recompense.”
At this moment the few savages who had remained standing, threw themselves prone upon the earth.
CHAPTER II.
THE HINTON FAMILY AND THEIR FATE
Eight years before the opening of our story, Elisha Hinton, removing from his New England home, with his wife and three children, had located in the western land of promise. Being frugal and industrious, a few years found the happy family comfortably settled, surrounded by all the abundant blessings conferred by the productive soil and the ancient forest.
But to them, as all others, bitter was mixed with the sweet. The pet of the family – little Ella – the youngest daughter, sickened. All the medical skill of the region round about was resorted to, but in vain. Day by day she wasted away, becoming paler and thinner, until it was fully apparent to the sorrowing friends that she could not long survive. And, while they hung grief-stricken about her couch, she clasped those little transparent hands, murmured fondly of the bright home above, and passed away.
Shortly after this bereavement, the settlement in which Elisha resided became involved in factious quarrels and divisions. Nothing was further from the character of the man, and, as the last alternative, he resolved to remove to the very verge of civilization. Here, far from all disturbing causes, Mr. Hinton had passed five years, devoting his time to the instruction of his remaining children, George and Emily. The latter, especially, was it the delight of her parents to instruct and prepare for the life before her. Emily proved an apt scholar – far exceeding educational acquirements others of her position.
One year, before this tale opens, the wife and mother had suddenly sickened and died. With breaking hearts they made her a grave beneath the wide-spreading branches of an old oak, and here consigned her to that unbroken rest where there should be no more of sorrow or pain.
The afternoon which initiates this story had been the first mournful anniversary of the day when she was laid to rest. As the sun sunk from sight, the family group gathered about the cabin door. Elisha Hinton, as was his wont, took from its rest the worn family Bible, and read from its pages the words of hope and consolation: “I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you. Yet, a little while and the world seeth me no more; but ye shall see me; because I live, ye shall live also.” With moving pathos the words fell from the lips of the father, and, as the last sound floated upon the calm evening air, he closed the book, and bowed his head upon his hands.
“My children,” he said, after a slight pause, “this is to me a solemn day. One year since your dear mother passed away, leaving us weary pilgrims to follow, and meet her in the fullness of time in a happier land. I know not why it should be so, but, it has seemed to me to-day that her spirit was near, whispering me to hasten and meet her in that blissful land, where partings are unknown. There sin and suffering never come, and turmoil and dissensions are never known!”
The simple worshippers sat thus, conversing of topics most closely connected with their present, till darkness settled about them; then, with a cheerful good-night, they separated, each seeking their quiet cots.
Little did they dream of the impending fate so soon to burst upon them. The father and daughter were ere long wrapped in quiet slumber, but George remained awake. He could not sleep. He listened to the chirping cricket, the quiet breathing of his father, and the gentle sighing of the winds without. Gradually he lost that keen consciousness, and from a state of indistinctness and confusion, sunk into a pleasant sleep.
Soon wild fancies obtruded into his brain, and after rolling from side to side under their influence for some time, he suddenly awoke, as fully as at noonday. For a moment he wondered what had awakened him. He listened. Surely there could be no mistaking that sound! The sharp crackling of a fire fell upon his ear.
Directly above his couch was a narrow aperture, which had been constructed for a loop-hole, but which had thus far been used only for the purpose of ventilation. He rose quickly, and applied his eye to the opening, but a fierce current of heat and smoke caused him to recoil instantly. Leaping from his couch he found that the room was filled with smoke. The mystery was then solved. The house was on fire!
Springing quickly to the cot of his father, the startled young man aroused him, and briefly communicating his discovery, hastened to awake his sister. Then he turned to a window and endeavoured to gaze out. Vain effort! The smoke whirled past it in dark masses, while alternate jets of flame mingled with the dusky clouds. By this time both Emily and her father had thrown on their garments, and before George could unbar the door they were at his back, white with alarm and anxiety. The father had seized his rifle, but the young man did not pause for weapons. He threw open the door, and the entire party stepped quickly forth.
For a moment they were blinded by the whirling smoke, but, passing beyond it, they turned to view the extent of the conflagration. Simultaneously, the yells of a hundred savage throats burst upon their horrified ears – the rapid reports of a score of rifles followed – and father and son sunk to the earth, pierced by many bullets. Although Emily felt the garments she wore cut and torn by the whistling shots, she was uninjured by the deadly shower. She saw her father and brother fall, knew that they were