Part 5 (1/2)

The day pa.s.sed quietly. An occasional shot toward the house showed that the Indians remained in the vicinity and, indeed, dark forms could be seen moving about in the distant parts of the clearing.

”Will it be possible,” the farmer asked Pearson, when night again fell, ”to go out and see if we can discover any traces of them?”

”Worse than no use,” Pearson said positively. ”We should just lose our har without doing no good whatever. If the Injuns in these woods--and I reckon altogether there's a good many hundred of 'em--can't find 'em, ye may swear that we can't. That's just what they're hoping, that we'll be fools enough to put ourselves outside the stockade. They'll lie close round all night, and a weasel wouldn't creep through 'em. Ef I thought there was jest a shadow of chance of finding them young uns I'd risk it; but there's no chance--not a bit of it.”

A vigilant watch was again kept up all night, but all was still and quiet. The next morning the Indians were still round them.

”Don't ye fret, ma'am!” Pearson said, as he saw how pale and wan Mrs.

Welch looked in the morning light. ”You may bet your last s.h.i.+lling that they're not caught 'em.”

”Why are you so sure?” Mrs. Welch asked. ”They may be dead by this time.”

”Not they, ma'am! I'm as sartin as they're living and free as I am that I'm standing here. I know these Injuns' ways. Ef they had caught 'em they'd jest have brought 'em here and would have fixed up two posts, jest out of rifle range, and would have tied them there and offered you the choice of giving up this place and your scalps or of seeing them tortured and burned under your eyes. That's their way.

No, they aint caught 'em alive, nor they aint caught 'em dead neither; for, ef they had they'd have brought their scalps to have shown yer. No, they've got away, though it beats me to say how. I've only got one fear, and that is that they might come back before the Injuns have gone. Now I tell ye what we had better do--we better keep up a dropping fire all night and all day to-morrow, and so on, until the redskins have gone. Ef the young uns come back across the lake at night, and all is quiet, they'll think the Injuns have taken themselves off; but, if they hear firing still going on, they'll know well enough that they're still around the house.”

William Welch at once agreed to this plan, and every quarter of an hour or so all through the night a few shots were fired. The next morning no Indians could be seen, and there was a cessation of the dropping shots which had before been kept up at the house.

”They may be in hiding,” Pearson said in the afternoon, ”trying to tempt us out; but I'm more inclined to think as how they've gone. I don't see a blade of that corn move; I've had my eyes fixed on it for the last two hours. It are possible, of course, that they're there, but I reckon not. I expect they've been waiting, ever since they gave up the attack, in hopes that the young uns would come back; but now, as they see that we're keeping up a fire to tell them as how they're still round us, they've given it up and gone. When it gets dark to-night I'll go out and scout round.”

At ten o'clock at night Pearson dropped lightly from the stockade on the side opposite to the gate, as he knew that, if the Indians were there, this would be the point that they would be watching; then, crawling upon his stomach, he made his way slowly down to the lake.

Entering the water and stooping low, he waded along the edge of the bushes for a distance of a mile; then he left the water and struck into the forest. Every few minutes he could hear the discharge of the rifles at the house; but, as before, no answering shots were heard.

Treading very cautiously, he made a wide _detour_ and then came down again on the clearing at the end furthest from the lake, where the Indians had been last seen moving about. All was still. Keeping among the trees and moving with great caution, he made his way, for a considerable distance, along the edge of the clearing; then he dropped on his hands and knees and entered the cornfield, and for two hours he crawled about, quartering the ground like a dog in search of game. Everywhere he found lines where the Indians had crawled along to the edge nearest to the house, but nowhere did he discover a sign of life. Then, still taking great care, he moved down toward the house and made a circuit of it a short distance outside the stockade; then he rose to his feet.

”Yer may stop shooting,” he shouted. ”The pesky rascals are gone.”

Then he walked openly up to the gate; it was opened at once by William Welch.

”Are you sure they have gone?” he asked.

”Sure as gospel,” he answered, ”and they've been gone twenty-four hours at least.”

”How do you know that?”

”Easy enough. I found several of their cooking places in the woods; the brands were out, and even under the ashes the ground was cold, so they must have been out for a long time. I could have walked straight on to the house, then, but I thought it safer to make quite sure by searching everywhere, for they might have moved deeper into the forest, and left a few men on guard here, in case the young uns should come back. But it aint so; they've gone, and there aint a living soul anywhere nigh the clearing. The young uns can come back now, if they will, safely enough.”

Before doing anything else the farmer a.s.sembled the party together in the living room, and there solemnly offered up thanks to G.o.d for their deliverance from danger, and implored his protection for the absent ones. When this was over he said to his wife:

”Now, Jane; you had better lie down and get a few hours' sleep. It is already two o'clock, and there is no chance whatever of their returning tonight, but I shall go down to the lake and wait till morning. Place candles in two of the upper windows. Should they be out on the lake they will see them and know that the Indians have not taken the house.”

Morning came, without any signs of the absent ones. At daybreak Pearson went out to scout in the woods, and returned late in the afternoon with the news that the Indians had all departed, and that, for a distance of ten miles at least, the woods were entirely free.

When it became dark the farmer again went down to the lake and watched until two, when Pearson took his place. Mr. Welch was turning to go back to the house when Pearson placed his hand on his shoulder.

”Listen!” he said; and for a minute the men stood immovable.

”What was it?” the farmer asked.

”I thought I heard the stroke of a paddle,” Pearson said; ”it might have been the jump of a fish. There! there it is again!” He lay down and put his ear close to the water. ”There's a canoe in the lake to the north'ard. I can hear the strokes of the paddle plainly.”