Part 12 (2/2)

”Lamm him!” muttered Habakkuk, more to himself than his companion. ”That shows the intelligence of his race. He's so dumb at times that he crosses the line, and does smart things.”

Aunt Peggy was not far in the rear of the two, for she was much lighter of foot than they. She got along very well, but she held her lips compressed, and her small eyes flashed, when she reflected that the whole party were fleeing from the wrath of a man who had lived in the valley before the war, who had sat at Mr. Brainerd's table many a time, and had presumed, even, to pay court to pretty Maggie.

It was an exasperating thought, indeed, that all this persecution was for no cause at all, excepting the depravity of the Tories, who, being renegades, were more revengeful than they would have been against a foreign enemy.

Mr. Brainerd compelled his two daughters to continue in advance of him, though only for a short distance. He expected the appearance of the pursuers, and he could not leave the fugitives unguarded in that fas.h.i.+on.

He felt that it was the place of Habakkuk McEwen to keep him company, and he called to him in a guarded voice. But the fleeing New Englander either did not, or would not, hear him.

It was impossible for such a flight and pursuit as this to last for any length of time. The advantage was all on the side of the fleet-footed Indians, who were so familiar with the woods that they were sure to come up with the patriots in a brief while.

The fugitives were hurrying forward, as we have described, when they were startled by the whoop of an Indian directly behind them, and so close that every one glanced over his shoulder.

As they did so they saw the figure of a Seneca warrior in full view and on a rapid run.

It was seen, too, that he grasped a gun in one hand and his tomahawk in the other. There could be little doubt that he meant to use one of them on the old gentleman at the rear, who could not hold his own against such a swift pursuer.

”S'render! s'render! s'render!” called the savage, as he gained rapidly, uttering the command in such good English that no one could misunderstand him.

”S'render! s'render!--me shoot--”

Mr. Brainerd halted, turned quickly, raising his rifle while in the very act of doing so, and when the affrighted but bewildered Indian ran almost against the muzzle of his gun, the trigger was pressed.

The red man, with an ear-splitting shriek, bounded in the air and stopped pursuing the patriots, while Mr. Brainerd, as he hurriedly resumed his flight, was so overcome with excitement as to mutter:

”Now you can shoot and be--!”

”The accusing spirit flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, and as she wrote it down, dropped a tear on the word, and blotted it out forever.”

CHAPTER XVIII.

The crack of Richard Brainerd's rifle and the death-shriek of the Seneca Indian were almost simultaneous, but the redskin was only a slight way in advance of the other savages, who, understanding the meaning of the report and outcry, dashed forward.

The startling episode caused some bewilderment on the part of the other fugitives, seeing which, the eldest called out to them impatiently:

”Push on, there! Push on! the Indians are right on us.”

Providentially, the advance were so close to the refuge that Gravity Gimp caught sight of the spot, and without looking around, he swung his hand over his head and exclaimed:

”Here we am! Here we am!”

”And that's the trouble,” growled Habakkuk McEwen, crowding hard after him, ”if we were only somewhere else, we'd feel a good deal better--leastways I would.”

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