A stifled groan was heard, and that almost as soon as my companion ceased to speak. I felt my blood curdle at these frightful evidences of human suffering; and an impulse of humanity caused me to move, as if about to rise. The hand of Trackless checked the imprudence.
“No good,” he said, sternly. “Sit still. Warrior know how to sit still.”
“But, Heavenly Providence! There is some one in agony, quite near us, man. Did you not hear a groan Trackless?”
“To be sure, hear him.—What of that? Pain make groan come, alway, from pale-face.”
“You think, then, it is a white-man who suffers? if so, it must be one of our party, as there is no one else near us. If I hear it again, I must go to his relief, Onondago.”
“Why you behave like squaw? What of little groan? Sartain, he pale-face; Injin never groan on war-path. Why he groan, you t’ink? Cause Huron meet him. That reason he groan. You groan, too, no sit still. Injin know time to shoot—know time not to shoot.”
I had every disposition to call aloud, to inquire who needed succour; yet the admonitions of my companion, aided as they, were by the gloomy mysteries of that vast forest, in the hour of deepest night, enabled me to command the impulse. Three times, notwithstanding, was that groan repeated; and, as it appeared to me, each time more and more faintly. I thought, too, when all was still in the forest—when we sat ourselves in breathless expectation of what might next reach our ears—attentive to each sighing of the night-air, and distrustful even of the rustling leaf—that the last groan of all, though certainly the faintest of any we had heard, was much the nearest. Once, indeed, I heard, or fancied I heard, the word ‘water,’ murmured in a low, smothered tone, almost in my ear. I thought, too, I knew the voice; that it was familiar to me; though I could not decide, in the state of my feelings, exactly to whom, it belonged.
In this manner we passed what, to me, were two of the most painful hours of my life, waiting the slow return of light. My own impatience was nearly ungovernable; though the Indian sat, the whole of that time, seemingly as insensible as the log which formed his seat, and almost as motionless. At length this intensely anxious, and even physically painful watch, drew near its end. Signs of day gleamed through the canopy of leaves, and the rays of dull light appeared to struggle downward, rendering objects dimly discernible.
It was not long ere we could ascertain that we had so completely covered ourselves, as to be in a position where the branches of the pines completely shut out the view of objects beyond. This was favourable to reconnoitring, however, previously to quitting our concealment, and enabled us to have some care of ourselves while attending to the duties of humanity.
Susquesus used the greatest caution in looking around before he left the cover. I was close at his side, peeping through such openings as offered; for my curiosity was so intense, that I almost forgot the causes for apprehension. It was not long before I heard the familiar Indian interjection, “hugh!” from my companion; a proof that something had caught his eye, of a more than ordinarily exciting character. He pointed in the way I was to look, and there, indeed, I beheld one of those frightful instances of barbarous cruelty, that the usages of savage warfare have sanctioned, as far back as our histories extend, among the forest warriors of this continent. The tops of two saplings had been brought down near each other, by main force, the victim’s hands attached firmly to upper branches of each, and the trees permitted to fly back to their natural positions, or as near them as the revolting means of junction would allow. I could scarce believe my senses, when my sight first revealed the truth. But there hung the victim, suspended by his arms, at an elevation of at least ten or fifteen feet from the earth. I confess I sincerely hoped he was dead, and the motionless attitude of the body gave me reason to think it might be so. Still, the cries for “help,” uttered wildly, hopelessly, in the midst of a vast and vacant forest, the groans extorted by suffering, must have been his. He had probably been thus suspended and abandoned, while alive!
Even the Onondago could not restrain me, after I fully saw and understood the nature of the cruelty which had been exercised on the miserable victim who was thus suspended directly before my eyes, and I broke out of the cover, ready, I am willing to confess, to pull trigger on the first hostile red-man I saw. Fortunately for myself, most probably, the place had long been deserted. As the back of the sufferer was towards me, I could not tell who he was; but his dress was coarse, and of the description that belongs to the lowest class. Blood had flowed freely from his head, and I made no doubt he had been scalped; though the height at which he hung, and the manner in which his head had fallen forward upon his breast, prevented me front ascertaining the fact at once, by the aid of sight. Thus much did I perceive, however, ere the Indian joined me.
“See!” said Susquesus, whose quick eye never let anything escape it long, “told you so; Huron been here.”
As this was said, the Indian pointed significantly at the naked skin, which was visible between the heavy, coarse shoes of the victim, and the trowsers he wore, when I discovered it was black. Moving quickly in front, so as to get a view of the face, I recognised the distorted features of Petrus, or Pete, Guert Ten Eyck’s negro. This man had been left with the surveyors, it will be remembered, and he had either fallen into the hands of his captors, while at the hut, engaged in his ordinary duties, or he had been met in the forest while going to, or coming from those he served, and had thus been treated. We never ascertained the facts, which remain in doubt to this hour.
“Give me your tomahawk, Trackless,” I cried, as soon as horror would permit me to speak, “that I may cut down this sapling, and liberate the unfortunate creature!”
“No good—better so,” answered the Indian. “Bear—wolf can’t get him, now. Let black-skin hang—good as bury—no safe stay here long. Look round and count Huron, then go.”
“Look round and count the Hurons,” I thought to myself; “and in what manner is this to be done?” By this time, however, it was sufficiently light to see foot-prints, if any there were, and the Onondago set about examining such traces of what had passed at that terrible spot, as might be intelligible to one of his experience.
At the foot of a huge oak, that grew a few yards from the fatal saplings, we found the two wooden, covered pails in which we knew Pete had been accustomed to carry food to Mr. Traverse and the chain-bearers. They were empty, but whether the provisions they unquestionably had contained fell to the share of those for whom they were intended, or to that of the captors, we never learned. No traces of bones, potato-skins, or other fragments were discovered; and, if the Hurons had seized the provisions, they doubtless transferred them to their own repositories, without stopping to eat. Susquesus detected proof that the victim had been seated at the foot of the oak, and that he had been seized at that spot. There were the marks of many feet there, and some proofs of a slight scuffle. Blood, too, was to be traced on the leaves, from the foot of the oak, to the place where poor Pete was suspended; a proof that he had been hurt, previously to being abandoned to his cruel fate.
But the point of most interest with Trackless was to ascertain the number of our foes. This might be done, in some measure, according to his view of the matter, by means of the foot-prints. There was no want of such signs, the leaves being much disturbed in places, though after a short but anxious search, my companion thought it wisest to repair to the hut, lest those it contained might be surprised in their sleep. He gave me to understand that the enemy did not appear to be numerous at that spot, three or four at most, though it was quite possible, nay highly probable, that they had separated, and that their whole force was not present at this miserable scene.
It was broad daylight when we came in sight of the hut again, and I perceived Jaap was up and busy with his pots and kettles near the spring. No one else was visible, and we inferred that Guert and Dirck were still on their pallets. We took a long and distrustful survey of the forest around the cabin, from the height where we stood, ere we ventured to approach it any nearer. Discovering no signs of danger, and the forest being quite clear of underbrush or cover of any sort, large trees excepted, for some distance