ascertain, suspended as he was from the tree. But, scalped he must be, as an Indian never permits a dead captive to escape this mutilation.”
“And you have been out in the forest three hours, you tell me, Corny?—You and Trackless?”
“About that time, I should judge. The heart must have been of stone, that could resist those cries!”
“I do not blame you, Littlepage, though it would have been kinder, and wiser, had you taken your friends with you. We must stick together, in future, let what may happen. Poor Petrus! I wonder Doortje should have hinted nothing of that nigger’s fate!”
We then held a long consultation on the subject of our mode of proceeding, next. It is unnecessary to dwell on this conference, as its conclusions will be seen in the events of the narrative; but it was brought to a close by a very sudden interruption, and that was the sound of an axe in the forest. The blows came in the direction of the scene of Pete’s murder, and we had collected our rifles, and were preparing to move towards the suspected point, when we saw Jaap staggering along, coming to the hut, beneath the load of his friend’s body. The fellow had stolen away, unseen, on this pious duty, and had executed it with success. In a minute or two he reached the spring, and began to wash away the revolting remains of the massacre from the head of the Huron’s victim.
We now ascertained that poor Pete had been badly cut by knives, as well as scalped, and suspended in the manner related. Both arms appeared to be dislocated, and the only relief to our feelings, was in the hope that an attempt to inflict so much suffering must have soon defeated itself. Guert, in particular, expressed his hope that such was the case, though the awful sounds of the past night were still too fresh in my ears to enable me to believe all I could wish on that subject A grave was dug, and we buried the body at once, rolling a large log or two on the spot, in order to prevent wild beasts from disinterring it. Jaap worked hard in the performance of these rites, and Guert Ten Eyck actually repeated the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed over the grave, when the body was placed in it, with a fervour and earnestness that a little surprised me.
“He was but a nigger, Corny, it is true,” said the Albanian, a little apologetically perhaps, after all was over, “but he was a very goot nigger, in the first place; then, he had a soul, as well as a white man—Pete had his merits, as well as a Tominie, and I trust they will not be forgotten in the last great account. He was an excellent cook, as you must have seen, and I never knew a nigger that had more of the dog-like fidelity to his master. The fellow never got into a frolic without coming honestly to ask leave; though, to be sure, I was not a hard master, in these particulars, on reasonable occasions.”
We next ate our breakfasts, with as much appetite as we could. Shouldering our packs, and placing all around, and in the hut, as much as possible in the condition in which we had found the place, we then commenced our march, Susquesus leading, as usual.
We went in quest of the surveyors, who were supposed to be in the south-east corner of the Patent, employed as usual, and ignorant of all that had passed. At first, we had thought of discharging our rifles, as signals to bring them in; but these signals might apprize our enemies, as well as our friends, of our presence, and the distance was too great, moreover, to render it probable the reports could be heard by those for whom alone they would be intended.
The route we took was determined by our general knowledge of the quarter of the Patent in which the surveyors ought now to be, as well as by the direction in which the body of Pete had been found. The poor fellow was certainly either going to, or coming from the party, and being in constant communication with them, he doubtless knew where they were at work. Then the different trails of the surveyors were easily enough found by Trackless, and he told us that the most recent led off in the direction I have named. Towards the south-east, therefore, we held our way, marching, as before, in Indian file; the Onondago leading, and the negro bringing up the rear.
Chapter XXVI
“‘Tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise,
To what we fear of death.”
—Measure for Measure
We were not long in reaching the point of the Patent in which the surveyors had been at work, after which we could have but little difficulty in finding their present actual position. The marked trees were guides that told the whole story of their labours. For an hour and a half, however, we moved rapidly forward, Susquesus on the lead, silent, earnest, watchful, and I fear I must add, revengeful. Not a syllable had been uttered during the whole of that time, though our senses were keenly on the alert; and we avoided everything like a cover that might conceal an ambush. Suddenly the Indian halted; at the next instant he was behind a tree. Each of us imitated him, quick as thought, for this was our previous training in the event of encountering an enemy; and we all well knew the importance of a cover in forest warfare. Still, no foe could be seen. After examining around us in every direction, for a minute or two, and finding the woods vacant and silent as ever, Guert and I quitted our own trees, and joined the Trackless, at the foot of his own huge pine.
“Why this, Susquesus?” demanded the Albanian, sharply; for he began to suspect a little acting, got up to magnify the Indian’s usefulness; “here is neither pale-face nor red-skin. Have done with this folly, and let us go forward.”
“No good—warrior been here; p’rhaps gone, p’rhaps no; soon see. Open eye, and look.”
As a gesture accompanied this speech, we did look again, and this time in the right direction. At the distance of a hundred yards from us was a chestnut, that might be seen from its roots to its branches. On the ground, partly concealed by the tree, and partly exposed, was the leg of a man, placed as the limb would be apt to lie, on the supposition that its owner lay on his back, asleep. It showed a moccasin, and the usual legging of an Indian; but the thigh, and all the rest of the frame, was concealed. The quick eye of the Onondago had caught this small object, even at that distance, comprehended it at a glance, when he instantly sought a cover, as described. Guert and I had some difficulty at first, even after it was pointed out to us, in recognising this object; but it soon became distinct and intelligible.
“Is that a red-skin’s leg?” asked Guert, dropping the muzzle of his rifle, as if about to try his skill on it.
“Don’t know,” answered the Indian; “got leggin, got moccasin; can’t see colour. Look most pale-face; leg big.”
What there was to enable one, at that distance, to distinguish between the leg of a white man and the leg of an Indian, at first greatly exceeded our means of conjecturing; but the Onondago explained it, when asked, in his own usual, sententious manner, by saying:
“Toe turn out—Injin turn in—no like, at all. Pale-face big; Injin no very big.”
The first was true enough in walking, and it did seem probable that the difference might exist in sleep. Guert now declared there was no use in hesitating any longer; if asleep he would approach the chestnut cautiously, and capture the stranger, if an Indian, before he could rise; and if a white man, it must be some one belonging to our own set, who was taking a nap, probably, after a fatiguing march. Susquesus must have satisfied himself, by this time, that there was no immediate danger; for merely saying, “all go together,” he quitted the cover, and led down towards the chestnut with a rapid
