Part 21 (1/2)
”There's the t'other hoss!” replied Ethan. ”They've got both on 'em.”
”Where could they get them?” said f.a.n.n.y, who regarded the fact indicated by her companion as sufficiently ominous to excite her alarm.
”That's what I'd like to hev some 'un tell me. f.a.n.n.y, I tell you sunthin' hes happened.”
At this moment a shrill and terrible scream was heard in the direction of the house, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. Ethan and f.a.n.n.y, appalled by the sounds, looked towards the house. They saw Mrs. Grant rush from the back door, and then fall upon the ground. Two or three Indians followed her, in one of whom f.a.n.n.y recognized Lean Bear, the stalwart chief she had endeavored to conciliate. He bent over the prostrate form of the woman, was seen to strike several blows with his tomahawk, and then to use his terrible scalping-knife.
At the sound of the rifle, which seemed to be a signal for the purpose, the savages who had grouped together outside of the house rushed in, yelling and hooting like demons.
”Creation hokee!” gasped Ethan, his face as nearly white as its sun-browned hue would permit.
f.a.n.n.y's blood was chilled in her veins; she could not speak, and her limbs seemed to be paralyzed. And now in the distance harsh and discordant sounds rose on the still morning air. They came from the direction of the other portions of the settlement. The shrill screams of women, the hoa.r.s.e cries of men, and the unearthly yells of the savages, mingled in horrible confusion. It was evident to the appalled listeners that a fearful Indian ma.s.sacre had commenced. They had seen Mrs. Grant fall; had seen the fierce Lean Bear tomahawk and scalp her.
It was madness to stand still in the midst of so much peril, but both Ethan and f.a.n.n.y seemed to be chained to the spot where they stood, fascinated, as it were, by the anguished cries of agony and death that were borne to their revolting senses by the airs of that summer morning. The savages were at that moment busy in ransacking and plundering the house, but f.a.n.n.y realized that she might be the next victim; that the tomahawk of the terrible Lean Bear might be glaring above her head in a few moments more. She trembled like an aspen leaf in the extremity of her terror, as she heard the terrific cries uttered by the mangled, mutilated, dying men, women, and children, far enough off to be but faintly heard, yet near enough to be horribly distinct.
”It's time sunthin' was did,” said Ethan, with quivering lips.
”What can we do?” asked f.a.n.n.y, in a husky whisper.
”We must git out of sight fust. Come along with me, f.a.n.n.y,” added Ethan, as he led the way into the barn.
”They will find us here,” said f.a.n.n.y.
”P'rhaps they will; but there ain't nowhere else to go to.”
”Why not run away as fast as we can?”
”We kin run, but I reckon bullets will travel faster 'n we kin.”
Ethan went up a ladder to the top of the hay-mow, and f.a.n.n.y followed him. He carried up with him a small hay-fork, with which he went vigorously to work in burrowing out a hole in the hay. f.a.n.n.y a.s.sisted him with her hands, and in a few moments they had made an aperture deep enough to accommodate them. This hiding-place had been made in the back part of the mow, next to the side of the barn, where there were wide cracks between the boards, through which they could receive air enough to prevent them from being stifled.
”Now, you get in, f.a.n.n.y, and I'll fix the hay so I kin tumble it all down on top on us, and bury us up.”
”Suppose they should set the barn afire,” suggested f.a.n.n.y.
”Then they will; we must take our chances, such as they be. We hain't got much chance nohow.”
f.a.n.n.y stepped down into the hole; Ethan followed her, and pulled the ma.s.s of hay over so that it fell upon them. They were four or five feet below the surface of the hay.
”I would rather be killed by a bullet than burned to death in the fire,” said f.a.n.n.y, with a shudder, when her companion had adjusted the hay so as to afford them the best possible means of concealment.
”P'rhaps they wouldn't kill you with a bullet. Them redskins is awful creeturs. They might hack you all to pieces with their knives and tomahawks,” whispered Ethan.
”It's horrible!” added f.a.n.n.y, quivering with emotion.
”I've hearn tell that there was some trouble with the redskins up on to the reserves; and I knowed sunthin' had happened when I see them two hosses. I was kind o' skeery when the varmints rid up to the house.”
”Do you suppose they have killed my uncle?” asked f.a.n.n.y, sick at heart.
”I s'pose they hev,” answered Ethan, gloomily. ”I reckon we'd better keep still, and not say nothin'. Some o' the redskins may be lookin'
for us. They're pesky cunnin'.”