An Iustrated Edition Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Beapix anv Apaws, in the office-of thé Librarian of Congress, at Washington. No. 1. EACH NUMBER COMPLETE. MLE Zao How de do? how de do? Ain't frightened, I hope; it’s nobody but me, Seth Jones, from New Hampshire. SHTH JONES; THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. BY EDWARD s. ELLIS. CHAPTER I. THE STRANGER. Tre clear ring of an ax was echoing through the arches of a forest, three quarters of a century ago ; and an athletic man was swinging the instrument, burying its glittering blade deep in the heart of the mighty kings of the wood. Alfred Hayerland was an American, who, a number of years before, had emigrated from the more settled provinces in the East, to this then remote spot in western New York. Here, in the wilderness, he had reared a humble home, and, with his loving partner, and a sister, laid the foundation for a settle- Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1960, by Irwin P. Baapre & Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. ment. True, this ‘‘ settlement” was still small, consisting only of the persons mentioned, and a beautiful blue-eyed maiden, their daughter ; but Haverland saw that the tide of emigration was rolling rapidly and surely to the west, and, eremany years, that villages and cities would take the place of the wild forest, while the Indians would be driven further on toward the setting sun. , The woodman was a splendid specimen of “‘ nature’s noble- men.” His heavy coat lay upon a log a short distance away, and his swelling, ponderous chest was covered only by a close- fitting under-garment, with the collar thrown open, showing the glowing neck and heaving breast. Substantial pants met the strong moccasins which incased his feet. A small raccoon- skin cap rested upon the back of his head, exposing his fore- head, while his black hair swept around his shoulders. His features were regular, and strongly marked. The brow was rather heavy, the nose of the Roman cast, and the eyes of a glittering blackness. So he stood with one foot thrust for- ward ; his muscles, moving and ridging as they were called into play, betrayed their formidable strength. Still the flashing ax sunk deeper and deeper into the oak’s red heart, until it had gone clean through and met the breach upon the opposite side. Then the oritnd old forest-king began. to totter. Haverland stepped back and ran his eye to the top, 2 NEW as he noticed it yielding. Slowly it leaned, increasing each second, until it rushed seemingly forward, and came down to the earth with a thundering crash and rebound. He stood a moment, his hot breath issuing like steam from his chest, and then moved forward toward its branches, At that instant his trained ear detected a suspicious sound, and dropping his ax, he caught up his rifle and stood on the defensive. ‘How de do ? how de do? Ain’t frightened I hope ; it’s nobody but me, Ser Jonxs, from New Hampshire,” said the new-comer in a peculiar accent. As the woodman looked up he saw a curious specimen of the genus homo before him. He is what is termed a Yankee, being from New Hampshire ; but he was such a person as is rarely met with, and yet which is too often described nowadays. He possessed a long, thin Roman nose, asmall, twinkling gray eye, with alithe, muscular frame, and long, a limbs. itis feet were incased in well-fitting shoes, while the rest of his dress was such as was in vogue on the frontiers at the time of which we write. His voice was in that peculiar, uncertain state, which is sometimes seen when it is said to be ‘‘changing.” When excited, it made sounds singular and unimaginable. The woodman, with characteristic penetration, read the man before him at a glance. Changing his rifle to his left hand, he extended the other. “Certainly not, my friend ; but then, you know, these are times in which it behooves us all to use caution and pru- dence ; and where one is placed in such a remote section as this it would be criminal to be careless, when more than one life is dependent upon me for support and protection.” ‘““Very true, very true; you're right there, Mr.—ah! I declare, I don’t know your name.” ‘““Haverland.” © - ‘‘Yow’re right, as I said, Mr. Haye-your-land, or Haverland as the case may be. I tell you these ae dubious times—no disputin’ that, and I was considerably s’prised when I heard the ring of an ax down in these parts.” ‘© And I was equally surprised to meet your visage when I looked up. Jones, I believe you said was your name ?” ‘«Exactly—Seth Jones, from New Hampshire. The Joneses are a numerous family up there—rather too many of them for comfort—so I] migrated. Mought be acquainted perhaps ?” “N o, I have no acquaintance to my knowledge in that sec- tion. e : ‘‘Haven’t, ch ? Thought the Joneses were pretty generally known through the Pon Some remarkable geniuses have sprung from the family. t what under the sun keeps you out in this heathen country ? What brought you here ?” ‘Enterprise, sir ; 1 was tired of the civilized portion of our country, and when such glorious fields-were offered to the emigrant as are here spread before him, I considered it a duty to avail myself of them, and I have done so.. And now, sir, be equally frank with me, and Jet me know what induced you to visit this perilous région when you had no reason to sup- pose that a settlement had yet been commenced by the whites. You look to me as if you were an Indian-hunter or scout.” ‘Wal, perhaps Iam. At any rate I have been. I was scout among the Green Mountain Boys, under Colonel Allen, and stayed with them till the Revolution was finished. After that I went: down on the farm and worked a while with the old man. Something occurred in our neighborhood that led me to. think it was best for me to leave : I won’t say what it was, but I will say it was no crime I committed. I stopped at the settlement down the river a few days, and then come to the conclusion to take a tramp in these parts.” “Tam very glad you have come, for it isn’t often we get sight of a white face. I hope you will take the welcome of a backwoodsman, and make your home with us as ag a time as you can—remembering that the longer you stay the more welcome you will be,” ‘“‘T shall probably stay till you git tired of me, at any rate,” laughed the eccentric Seth Jones. ; ‘“ As you are from the East, probably _you can give infor- mation of the state of fecling among the Indians between that section and us. From your remarks, I should infer, however, that nothing very serious threatens.” “Don’t Know "bout that,” replied Seth, shaking his head and looking to the ground, ““Why.so, my friend ?” ‘“T tell you what, you, I heerd orful stories long the way. They say since this war, the darned red-coats have kept the Injins at work. Leastways, it’s pretty sartin they are at work, anyhow.” “Are you sure ?” asked the woodman, betraying an anx- iety in his speech. AND OLD FRIENDS. “‘Purty sure. There’s a little settlement down here some gees (I ave forgot the name,) sot on by the imps, and burned all up. a 1s it possible ? Reports have reached me during the past three or four months of the deadly ya es existing between the whites and reds, but I was glad to doubt it. Tingugh x sometimes felt it was wrong.” ‘Twas so; and if you vally that ar’ wife of your bussum, , and your little cherubims, (as I allow you’ve got,) you'd better be makin’ tracks for safer quarters. Why, how have you stood it so long ?” ‘‘My conduct toward the Indians has ever been character- ized by honesty and good-will upon my part, and they have ever eyinced a friendly feeling toward.me and my helpless ones. I place great reliance upon this state of feeling—in fact, my only reliance.” “Just so; but I tell you; it won't. do to trust an Injin. They’re obstropertous. Go to put your finger on them, and they ain’t thar. Jest so, by gracious.” “T fear there is too much truth in your suspicions,” replied Haverland, in a saddened tone. “Tm glad I’ve tumbled onto you, cozI begin to git skeer- ish, and I like to do a feller a good turn, and I'll stick to you, bein’ P've found you.” “Thank you, friend, and let us now proceed homeward, I intended to spend the day in work, but your words have taken away all desire.” ‘Sorry to doit; but it’s best, ain’t it 2” : ‘* Certainly; it would have been wrong had you not warned me of impending danger. Let us go home.” So saying, Alfred drew on his coat, slung his rifle and ax over his shoulder, struck into a path in the forest, which he himself had worn, and with a thoughtful tread, made his wae homie Close behind him followed his new-made riend, , CHAPTER. I1. fae THE DARK CLOUD. wt Durine the walk. homeward, Hayerland spoke but few words, although his loquacious friend kept up a continual, unremitting stream of talk. The woodman’s heart was too heavy to join him in his humorous, pointless words. Al- though dark and fearful suspicions had flitted before him, he had closed his eyes upon them until he could ho longer shun them ; they appeared at every turn, and now assumed a terri- ble certainty. ee (| Although at the time to whi struggles of the colonies had placed upon a’ firm basis, yet unive ace, DY No. means reigned. Dark, sanguinary and bloody tragediés.were ccn- ‘stantly enacted upon the fronticrs for a generation afterward. The mother country, failing in her work of subjugation, con- tinued to incite the Indians to revolting barbarities upon the unoffending inhabitants, They found them too-willing instru- ments, and, instigated by them, a protracted war was long maintained ; and, when the inciting cause was removed, the savages still continued the unequal conflict. As every one acquainted with our history must know, the war on the fron. tiers has been an almost interminable one. As the tide of em- igration has rolled westward, it has ever met that fiery coun- ter-surge, and only overcome it by incessant battling and ef- fort. And even now, as the distant shores of the Pacific are well-nigh reached, that resisting wave still gives forth itslurid flashes of conflict. In a pleasant valley stood the humble home of Alfred Hay- erland. His own vigorous arm had cleared off a space on all sides so that his residence stood at some distance from the forest, which rolled away for miles. In the clearing still re- mained the stumps of the fallen trees, and in some places the rich virgin soil ‘had been broken, and was giving signs of the exhaustless wealth it retained in its bosom, waiting only for the hand of man to bring it forth. s The house itself was such as are generally found in new settlements, A number of heavy logs, placed a . gether, with an opening fora door, and one for @ window, were all that could attract attention from the outside. With- in, were two apartments, the lower and upper. ‘The former was used for all purposes except that of sleeping, which, of course, was done in the upper. In building it, Haverland had made little preparation for defense, as he fondly hoped it we refer, the Revolutionary“ | closed, and theit’ freedom was “pe ‘would never be needed for such, and it seemed to him that the idea of danger would ever be before him, should he con- struct it thus. And, besides, should he use his utmost skill in the purpose mentioned, he knew it would avail him little. He had no means of Wieering 4 protracted siege, and a handful of assailants could bring him to any terms. As he stepped forth into the clearing, Ina, his daughter, caught sight of him, and bounded out the cabin to meet him. ‘“Oh, father! I am glad you have come back so soon, but ditner isn’t ready. Did you think it was? I was just telling mother—” She paused suddenly, as she caught sight of a stranger, and with her hand on her mouth, stood, fearing to approach, and afraid to yield to the impulse of turning, and running into the house again. ‘“No, I didn’t think dinner-time had come, but as I had a friend to visit me, I thought I could entertain him at home better than in the woods. But where is your kiss, dear?” The father stooped, and touched his ae to the ruby ones of his mooring child, and taking her hand, moved forward to- ward the cabin. “‘ Whew! if that ain’t a purty flower, then kick me!” ex- claimed Seth Jones, in admiration. ‘‘ Was she originated in these parts? Darter, I s’pose? Perhaps not, though?” “Yes, she is my daughter, although she was not born in these parts.” “Dew tell. Darned if she ain’t a beauty, and that makes what I said—” The father motioned to him that the theme was forbidden, and they walked silently toward the house. It was no wonder that Ina Haverland drew forth such en- comiums from Seth Jones. She was, indeed, a beautiful crea- ture. She had seen some fifteen or sixteen’ summers, several of which had been spent in the wilderness, which was now her home. She was rather small in stature, but graceful as a a free from the restraints which the conventionalities of fe impose on those of her age. She had dark hair, gath- ered in a roll behind, fine expressive blue eyes, a perfect Gre- cian nose, thin lips, and a full chin, rendering the profile per- fectly straight from the forehead downward. Her face was oval, and her complexion almost too light fora full enjoy- ment of health. Her dress was a semi-civilized one, consist- ing of a short skirt, with leggins beautifully wrought, and a loose sack, similar to the ones worn at the present day. Her small feet were incased in tiny moccasins, elaborately wrought with beads and Indian ornaments, and a string of wampum hung around the neck, e led the way toward the house, and the three entered. Haverland introduced his friend to his sister and wife, as a man who had chanced down in this direction, and who would probably tarry a few days. But the quick eye of his wife caught the thoughtful expression upon her husband’s face, and she felt there was something yet unrevealed — something deeper and more important that was to be disclosed. She, however, forbore Kueptioning or hinting, knowing that he would communicate what was necessary when he deemed the proper time had come: A commonplace conversation was maintained until the meal was prepared by the busy housewife, when they all gathered around the board. An earnest blessing was invoked upon the humble food, and it was partaken of in silence. “Wife,” said Haverland, tenderly, “I will depart awhile with this friend here, and you and Mary may busy yourselves as you think best till I return. Probably I will not be back until toward night. Take no any upon my account.” “‘T will endeavor not to; but, dear husband, go not far from home, for strange fears have come over me since morning.” Even the usually staid and calm face of Mary betrayed an unusjial expression of anxiety. ’ :Fear not, wife, I will not go far.” Haverland now stepped outside, where he saw Seth, all agape, gazing at Ina, as she passed to and fro in the house. ““By gracious, you, I’m goin’ to fall in love with that gal. No ’bjections, hope?” “No,” answered Haverland, with a faint smile, ‘‘her heart is unfettered and I hope it will remain so for a long time.” ““Oh! I don’t mean to love her as you dew yer old woman -eyer wife. I mean jest as I would my darter, yer know. She’s too small to think about lovyers ‘yit, Don’t you let sich 2¢hing git inter her head for five years or more.” ““T’ll try not to; but let us take a walk. T have something to say, which [ would that they should not know for the present.” ‘All right—but jest hold on a minute.” ————— SETH JONES; OR, THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. 3 At this juncture, Ina appeared with a small vessel, as if she intended bringing some water from some spring nigh at hand. ‘‘ Hold on a minute, gal, my beauty,” said Seth, stepping forward, and reaching for the pail. “‘That’s too big a lo for you to carry.” ; “No, T have done it often, thank you, but it is no work for me. ‘ But jest let me fetch it this time, if only to show my good will, and my activity.” Ina laughingly yielded the vessél, and watched him as he took long, awkward strides toward the point where the path led into the forest. “ How far is it off?” he asked, turning round, as he reached the point mentioned. ee A short distance,” answered Haverland; ‘‘the path leads to it.’ Seth made some unintelligible answer, as he jerked his head back and disappeared. This simple occurrence that we have just narrated, although trivial in itself, was one of the circumstances which often con- trol important acts, and which seem to show that an all-wise Ruler orders them to suit his purposes, and to bring about good in the end. Seth Jones had no object other than a little amusement in his course, yet before he returned, he saw how fortunate it was. He strode rapidly forward, and after passing a short dis- tance, reached the spring. As he stooped, he was sure he heard a moyement in the bushes beyond; and, as he was about to dip the vessel, he saw, in the smooth face of the water, a movement in the shrubbe He had too much cunning and prudence to affect Knowledge of it, and he filled the vessel without betraying any signs of suspicion. As he rose to the upright position, he gave an apparently careless sweep of his vision, and not twenty feet distant he saw the crouching forms of two Indians! As he turned his back, there was a peculiar, uncomfortable feeling, as he knew that it was the easiest mat- ter in the world to receive one or two cold bullets. He, how- ever, quickened his steps not in the least, and manifested no uneasiness, as he came to view in the clearing and laughingly handed the water to Ina. ‘‘Come, let us go,” said Haverland, moving toward the ae “Not that ar’ way, by a long shot,” said Seth, with a mean- ing shake of his head. “Why not?” ‘‘ Pll tell you, purty soon.” “Let us to the river; then.” “That'll do, ’specially as it ain't fur from your house !” Haverland looked searchingly at him, and saw there was a deep meaning behind those words, yet he said nothing, and led the way toward the river. This stream was but a few hundred yards from the house, and flowed in a northerly and southerly direction. It was very smooth at this point, and not very wide, yet 'a mile or so further down it debouched into a large, broad, and deep river. The banks were lined, most of the distance, by close, impene- trable shrubbery, overarched by lofty trees, which were the edges of the almost interminable wilderness that then covered this part of the State, and of which great portions remain unto the present day. Haverland five to a spot where he had often stood and conversed with his wife, when they first entered the place. Resting his rifle upon the earth, and folding his arms over the muzzle, he turned around and looked Seth full in the face. ‘What did you mean,by telling me not to go far from the house?” ‘‘ Jest hol’ on a bit,” replied Seth, bending his ear as if to listen. Haverland watched him earnestly, and he also heard something unusual—as if some one were rowing a canoe in the water. His companion then stepped down to the water's edge, and signaled for him to approach. Haverland did ‘so, and looked down the river. Some hundree rte off, he saw a canoe rapidly moving down-stream, impelled by the oars of three Indians! ; ‘“That is what I meant,” said he, in a whisper, stepping back. ; “Did you see them?” asked Haverland. “‘T reckon I did. They were at the spring watching for your gal to come, so that they mought run off with her.’ PS MN a a ANI AA ie A te CHAPTER III. THE DARK CLOUD BURSTS. “ ARE you certain?” asked Haverland, with a painful eagerness. ‘ As sure as I live!” “How? when? where did you see them? Pray, answer quick, for I feel that the lives of precious ones stand in peril.” “The facts are few—they are. When I went down to the spring, I see’d them pesky varmints thar, and I knowed they war waitin’ for your little booty, ’cause if they wa’n’t, they'd have walloped me, thunderin’ soon. I see’d ’em sneaking round, and purtended as though I didn’t ’spicion nothin’. *Vey?ve found I’s about, and have gone down for more help. ;aey ll be back here to-night with a whole pack. Fact, by gracious!” “You speak truly; and as matters stand thus, it is time for action.” “Exactly so; and what is it you propose to dew?” ‘ As you have offered me such signal aid thus far, I must again ask you for advice.” “Pshaw! don’t you know what to dew, man?” “T have a plan, but I would hear yours first.” ‘Wal, I can give it purty soon. You know well enough you're in tight quarters, and the best thing you can do is to git away from here a leetle quicker nor no time. You know the settlements ain’t more nor twenty miles off, and you'd better pack up and pe off, and lose no time, neither.” “That was my plan, exactly. But hold! we must go by water, and will it not be best to wait and go by night, when we will have the darkness to protect us? We hats just learned that the river contains enough enemies to frustrate our designs, should they be known. Yes, we must wait till night.” ‘You're right, there; and, as there is no moon, we’ll have a good chance, especially as we have to go down-stream in- stead of up. I tell yeou, the war 7s going on. When I left home, I had an idee things would be fixed so as to stop these jnfarnal red-skins from committin’ on their depredations, al- though they looked mighty squally; but ’tain’t no use, and it won’t do to trust these critters.” Shortly after, Haverland turned and entered the house, followed by Seth. He called his wife and sister in, and ex- plained, in a few words, the circumstances. It was but a realization of the fears entertained, and no time was lost in useless laments. Perparations were immediately made for the removal. The woodman owned a large boat, somewhat simi- lar to the flatboats seen at this day upon the western waters. This was hauled in beneath the shrubbery which overhung the bank, and into this their things were placed. During the removal Seth remained along the river-bank, keeping watch of the stream, lest their enemies might return unawares. The removal occupied most of the afternoon, and it was not until the shadows were lengthening across the river that the last article was placed on board. This completed, ail seated themselves in the boat, and waited for the rapidly-ap- proaching darkness, to glide out into the stream. “Tt is hard,” said Haverland, somewhat moodily,” to leave one’s home after all the difficulty in rearing it is finished.” “Pact, by gracious!” added Seth, whom Mary eyed very closely, as if not satisfied with the fellow’s ways and looks. “ But it is best, dear husband. Let us hope, now, that the war is ended, and that, as we have passed through as great dangers as those that now threaten us, the time is not far dis- tant when we may return to this spot with safety.” “We can die but once,” said Mary, abstractedly, ‘“‘and I am ready for any fate.” Seth studied her face with.a quick, keen glance, then smiled, and said: ‘‘Oh, you look a here, now, / am captain here, by your leave, my dears, and I ain’t goin’ to allow an sick stomachs in this here crew.” His sunny face aemnget greatly to encourage the little band. ~ “T wouldn’t fear to remain here now,” said Ina, bravely; “T am sure we soon may return. I feel it.” Haverland kissed his child, but made no further reply, and all relapsed into a stillmess, and ceased further conversation. There was something in the gathering gloom around, some- thing in the peculiar situation in which they were placed, that imparted a despondency to all. The boat was still fastened to the shore, and the time for loosening it was close at hand. Mrs. Haverland had passed within the rude cabin, the door of which remained open, while Seth and the husband re- mained inthe stern. Ina sat near at hand, and had fallen into the same silence that rested upon the others, NEW AND OLD FRIENDS. “ Doesn’t it look dark and awful, back there?” she asked,. ; in a whisper, of Seth, pointing toward the shore. “Tt does, somewhat, I think.” ‘« And yet I wouldn’t be afraid to go back to the house.” “You'd better stay in the boat, young ’un.” “You think I am afraid, do you?” she said, bounding out the boat to the shore. “Jna! Ina! what do you mean?” asked the father, Sake ‘(QOh, nothing; only I want to take a little run to ease my limbs.” “Come back here, instantly!” ‘“-Yes—oh, father! quick! quick! come and take me!” ‘Seize the oar and shove out!” commanded Seth, spring- ing into the water, and shoving the boat off. “ But, for God’s sake, my child!” ‘You can’t help her—the Injins have got her. I see ’em; drop quick, they’re goin’ to fire! look Ute? 7 At that instant there was the sharp crack of several rifles from the shore, and several tongues of fire flamed from the darkness, and the wild yell of a number of Indians pealed out in horrid strength. Had it not been for Seth all would have been lost. He comprehended every thing in an instant, and saved the others. ‘Oh, father! mother! The Indians have got me!” came: in agonized accents from the shore. “Merciful God! must I see my child perish without heed- ing her cry?” groaned Haverland, in spirit. “No, they won’t hurt her, and we must take care of our- selves while we can. Don’t stand up, for they can see you.” ‘Father, will you leave me?” came again in heartrending tones. “Don’t be scart, young ’un,” called out Seth; ‘‘keep up a good heart. Tl git you ag’in ef you behave yourself. I will, as sure as 1am Seth Jones. Just keep up pluck, little one.” The last words were shouted loudly, for the boat was fast gliding into the stream. The mother had heard all, and said nothing. She compre- hended it, and with a groan sunk back upon a seat. Mary’s eyes flashed like a tigress at bay; and she did not cease to’ cast looks of indignation at Seth, for leaving the child to her horrid fate so coolly. But she said nothing—was as quiet and pale as a statue. Seth eyed her like a lynx; his eyeballs seemed like fire. But he was as cool as if at his ease perfect- ly; and he quickly made all feel that he was born for such appalling emergencies. hey were now within the center of the stream, and moving quite rapidly. The darkness was so great that the shores were now vailed from sight. And with hearts in as deep a gloom, the fugitives floated downward. CHAPTER IV THE LOST HOME AND A FOUND FRIEND. Tr was on the morning of the day which we have just seen ‘close. As will be remembered, the air is clear and the day one of the most beautiful and pleasant of the year. The air was perfectly still, and had that peculiar, bracing sharpness which is only felt when it is in a perfect state of rest. It was such a morning as would make every healthy person feel that to merely live was ore That part of the the: of this life-drama are laid, was a county at this time cut up and diversified by numerous streams—the greater number of comparatively small size, but a few of considerable magni- tude. Skirting and between these were thousands of acres of thick, luxuriant forest, while in some places were plains of great extent entirely devoid of timber. It was about the middle of the day referred to, that a single horseman was slowly skirting one of these open patches of country, @ few miles distant from Haverland’s home. A mere Jance would have shown that he had come a great distance, and both he and the animal he bestrode were jaded and well- nigh worn out. He was a young man, some twenty or twenty- five years of age, attired in the costume of a hunter; and, al- though fatigued’ with his long ride, the watchfulness of his motions would have shown any one that he was no stranger to frontier life. He was rather prepossessing in appearance— had fine dark eyes, curly hair and whiskers, an expressive Roman nose, ahd small and finely-formed mouth. In front, a tate of New York in which the first scenes - po ane SETH JONES, OR, THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. 5- long, polished rifle rested across the saddle, ready for use at a second’s warning. His horse’s sides were steaming and foamy, and the animal made his way along with painfully ev- ident weariness. As the day waned, the traveler looked about him with more interest and eagerness. He carefully examined the streams he crossed, and the pieces of wood, as though searching for some landmark or habitation. At length he manifested a pleasure in what he saw, as though the signs were as he wished, and hurried the lagging steps of his animal. ** Yes,” said he to himself, ‘‘ the woodman’s house can not be far from this. I remember this stream, and that wood yonder. I shall then be able to reach it by night. Come, my good horse, go ahead with better spirits, for you are near your journey’s end. A short time after, he crossed a small stream that dashed and foamed over its rocky bed, and entered the broad tract which led to the clearing in front of Haverland’s door. But although he had a tolerably correct idea of his situation, he had sadly miscalculated the distance. It was already dusk when he struck the stream several miles above where we have seen the fugitives take it. This river, or creek, he knew led directly by the cabin he was seeking, and he determined to keep it until he had reached his destination, His progress was now quite tardy, from being often obliged to pass around the thick undergrowth which lined the river; and, when he reached a point that he knew was a mile distant from Haver- land’s cabin, it was far in the night, “‘Come, my good horse, we have had a longer tramp than IT expected but we are now very near the termination of our journey. Heigh! what does that mean?” This last exclamation, or question, was caused by seeing directly ahead of him, a bright, lurid glare shoot high into the heavens. “‘ Gan it be that the woodman’s house is fired? Impossible! and yet, thaf is the precise spot. Heavens! something is wrong!” ' ; Agitated by strong and painful emotions, Everard Graham {sue was his name) now hurried his horse toward the spot rom which the light emanated. In a short time he had pro- ceeded as far as he dared with his horse, then dismounting, he tied him, and made his way cautiously forward on foot. The light was so strong that he found it necessary to pick his way with the greatest care. : a few moments sufficed to show him all. He saw the house of Haverland, the one in which he expec- ted to pass the night, but one mass of flame. And around it were a score of dark forms, leaping and dancing, and ap- pearing, in the ghastly light, like fiends in a ghostly revel. Graham stood a moment spell-bound with horror and amaze- ment. He expected to see the reeking bodies of Haverland and his family, or hear their groans of agony; but, as he con- tinued gazing, he became convinced that they were either slain or had escaped, as there were no signs of their presence. He could not think they had escaped, and was compelled to believe they had been tomahawked, and had perished in the flames. : It was a ghastly and almost unearthly sight—the small cabin, crackling and roaring in one mass of ed flame, throwing strange shadows across the clearing, and lighting up the edges of the forest with a brightness almost as great as the sun at noonday—the score of dusky beings, leaping and shouting in wild exultation, and the vast wilderness, shutting down like an ocean of darkness around. Gradually the flames lessened, and the woods seemed to re- treat into the gloom; the shouts of the savages ceased, and they, too, chappeared | and the building, which hitherto was a mass of crackling fire, was now a heap of slumbering coals and embers, which glowed with a hot redness in the darkness. An hour or two afterward, a shadowy form could have been seen gliding stealthily and silently around the glowing ruins. He appeared like a specter as seen by the reflected light of the siintloeslg coals, or might have been taken for the shadow of some ruin of the building. At intervals, he paused and list- ened as though he half expected to hear the footfall of some one, and then again continued his ghostly march around the ruins. Several times he stooped and pened into the embers, as though he supposed the whitened bones of some human being would greet his vision, and then he recoiled and stood as fin deep and painful thought. It was Everard Graham, searching for the remains of Haverland and his family. “T see nothing,” he said, musingly, ‘‘and it may be that they have escaped, or their bodies are now cooking in that heap of coals, and yet something tells me that they are not. And if it is not thus, what can have become of them? How could they have eluded the malignant vengeance of their sav- age foes?, Who could have warned them? Ah, me! in spite of the unaccountable hope which I feel, my own sense tells me, that there are no grounds for it. Sad is the fate of the unprotected at this time.” “Fact, by gracious!” Graham started as though he had been shot, and gazed around. A few yards off he could just discover the outlines of a man standing as if he were contemplating himself. ‘“‘ And who are you,” he asked, ‘that appears upon this spot at such a time?” ‘“‘Tam Seth Jones, from New Hampshire. Who mought be you that happens down in these parts at this pertickler time?” “Who am I? Iam Everard Graham, a friend of the man whose house is in ruins, and who, I fear, has been slaughtered with his family.” ‘Exactly so; but. don’t speak so loud. There mought be others about, you know. Jist let’s step back here, where *tain’t likely we’ll be obsarved.” The speaker retreated into the darkness, while Graham fol- lowed him. At first he had some slight misgivings, but the tones and voice of the stranger reassured him, and he followed him without distrust or hesitation. ‘* You say you’re a friend of Haverland’s, eh?” asked Seth, in a whisper. ‘“‘T am, sir; I was acquainted with him before he moved out in these parts. He was an intimate friend of my father’s, and I promised to pay him a visit as soon as I could possibly do so, and I am here for that purpose.” ‘Jest so, but you took a rayther ticklish time for it, I reckon.” . ‘‘So it seems; but, if I wished to wait till it would be per- fectly safe, I am afraid my visit would never be made.” ‘“« Fact, by gracious!” ‘* But allow me to ask whether you know any thing of the family?” = Teds that, perhaps, it mought be possible I do, seein’ as how I’ve been around these times.” ‘* Are they slain, or captives?” ‘* Neyther.” ‘“Ts it possible they have escaped?” ‘‘Jest so. I helped ’em off myself.” ‘Thank Heaven! Where are they?” “Down the river, at one of the settlements.” “How far distant is it?” ‘*A dozen miles, p’raps, though it mought be more, and then ag’in it mightn’t.” ‘* Well, let us then hasten to them, or, let me, at least, as I have nothing to detain me here.” $s ‘“‘T’m willing,” said Seth, moving forward, ‘‘ but I forgot 2 tell you the darter’s "mong the Indians. I didn’t think of that.” Graham started, for, perhaps, the shrewd reader has already suspected he had more than a passing interest in the fate of Ina. Visions of a fair, childish face had haunted him, and his perilous journey was owing much to their enchantment. He had played with her in childhood, and while they were yet children they had separated; but they had pledged their hearts to each other, and looked hopefully forward to a reunion in later years, Graham had dreamed of this meeting a long time; and, now that it was so cruelly thwarted, he felt agon- ized indeed. Years before, when still a boy, although quite a large one, he visited this section, and the memory of that visit had ever been a bright dream in the past. He mastered his emotion in a moment, with a strong effort, and asked his companion, calmly: ; ‘What tribe has captured Ina?” “Them infarnal Mohawks, I believe.” ‘‘ How long ago did it occur?” ‘« Only a few hours, as you can see by them coals there.” - will you be kind enough to give me the particulars?” ‘ Sartinly.’ And theremin: Seth proceeded to narrate the incidents given in the preceding chapter, adding, however, that the parents and sister were safe. He had accompanied them him- self down to the settlement mentioned, where, leaving them, he had made all haste back again, and had arrived just in time to meet Graham. At first, he said, he mistook him for a sav- age, and as he was alone, he came very near shooting him; but, as he heard him communing with himself, he discovered at once that he was a white man. a iii ccenoamcnsnac sncnnataaaihlat anata H | '@ “And what has brought you back here?” asked Graham, --swhen he had finished. «That's a pooty question to ax me, I swow! What, has ‘prought me back here? Why, the same thing, I cac’late as “as brought you—to find out what is to be found out ’bout . _Zna, that purty darter.” “’Ah—pardon me, friend, I am glad to hear it, and I am “free to confess that that inducement has had more in bringing ‘me here than any thing else. From your starting alone to vreseue her, I presume you entertained hopes of recovering “mer, and, as you, alone, entertained such hopes, I judge there iis greater room for them, when another one joins you.” “Did I say, stranger, I ’spected to git that gal again?” “asked Seth in a low tone. “You did not say so in words, it is true; but from what you said, I judged such was your intention. Was I mistaken?” “No, sir; that’s what I meant.” “* T see no reason why we should not be friends, as we are ‘both actuated by a desire to rescue an unfortunate ‘one from the horrors of Indian captivity, and I trust, without that fact, we would find nothing distasteful in each other.” ‘«‘Them’s my sentiments, ’zactly. Give us your hand.” The two closed hands with a true friendly grip and could each have seen the other’s face in the darkness, he would have beheld a radiant expression of friendship. They then vetired further into the wood and continued the conversation. We may mention in this place, that the Indians who had captured Ina were, as Seth had remarked, members of the Mohawk tribe. This tribe itself was a member of the ‘‘ Five Nations,” including, with them, the Seneca, Cayuga, Onon- ‘daga, and Oneida tribes, which have become quite famous in thistory. They are known among the French as the Troquois, ‘and among the Dutch as Maguas, while at home they are eealled the Mingoes, or Agamuschim, signifying the United Peo- ple. The Mohawks, or Wabingi, first existed separately and -alone, The Oneidas then rere them, and these, in turn, were followed by the Onondagas, Senecas, and Cayugas. In ‘the beginning of the last century, the Tuscaroras of the South ios them, after which time ae took the name of the Six ations. Of course, they were all united, and war made up- on one tribe, was made upon all. They were truly a formi- -dable confederation, and the Revolution testifies to what deeds they were sufficient when instigated by the British. During the predatory warfare which long existed upon the Old Fron- tier, the white settlers relied mainly upon stratagem to outwit stheir foes, and it was by this means alone that Seth Jones hoped to rescue Ina from their hands. CHAPTER V. “QN THE TRAIL, AND A SUDDEN DEPARTURE FROM IT BY SETH. “Tm Mohawks, you say, have then captured her?” re- «marked Graham, after a moment’s pause. “Yes; J know it’s them.” “Did you get a glimpse of them?” “JT came up as soon as possible, and they were leaving at “that moment. I saw one or two of them, and know’d it was them, sure ’nough. Howsumever, that don’t make no differ- whether it’s the Mohawks, Oneidas or any of them Dlasted Five Nation niggers. They are all a set of skunks, cand one would just’ as lief run off with a man’s gal as not. There ain’t any difference atwixt em.” “TJ suppose not. The same difficulties would have to be surmounted in each case. The point is not whether one shall make ‘an attempt ‘at ‘a rescue, but how shall it be done. I confess lam ina ‘maze. The Mohawks are an exceedingly cunning people.” -“ Mhat’s a fact—that needn’t be disputed.” “CBut then, you know, if we outwit them, we will not be the Wrst whites who have done such a thing in their day!” “Thats a fact, too. Now, jest hold ona minute, while I think.” Graham ceased talking for a moment, while Seth remained as if in deep and anxious thought. Suddenly lifting up his head, he remarked: “OT have it.” ¢ Hawe what? The plan which must be pursued by us?” tefica’e late T have.” Well, out with it.” “Why.it’s this, We've got to git that gal, an’ no mistake.” NEW AND. OLD FRIENDS. Despite the gloominess which had been upon Graham, he could not help laughing outright at the serious tone in which this was uttered. “ What are you laughing at?” indignantly demanded Seth. be Why, I thought we had arrived at that conclusion long since, “T didn’t think of that; so we did. Howsumeyer, I’ve thort further—hey, what’s that off yonder? ‘Nuther building burning?” Graham gazed in the direction indicated, and saw that day was breaking. This he remarked to his companion. ‘“-Yes, so ’tis; and I’m glad of it, for we want some light on this subject.” In a short time, the sun appeared above the forest, and poured a flood of golden light over the woods and streams. Birds were singing their morning songs in every part of the wood, and every thing wore as gay a look as though no deed of blood had been committed during the night. As soon as it was sufficiently light, Seth and Graham made their way to- ward the stream. “Ag we shall shortly start,” remarked the latter, ‘‘I will attend to my horse, which I brought with me. He is but a short distance away, and I will be back in a moment.” So saying, he departed in the wood. He found his horse, completely worn out, asleep upon the ground. He unloosened his fastening, and as there was abundant provender around in the shape of young and tender twigs and luxuriant grass, he removed the saddle and bridle, and concluded to allow him free scope of the wood until his return, trusting to the rather doubtful chances of ever recovering him again. This done, he returned to his companion, He found Seth leaning upon his rifle, and gazing medita- tively into the silent stream flowing before him. Graham looked curiously at him a moment, and then said: “T am ready, Seth, if you are.” The individual addressed turned without a word, and strode toward the clearing. When the ruins of the house were reached, they both halted, and in an undertone, he said: “Hunt up the trail.” Each bent his head toward the ground, and moved in a circle around the clearing. Suddenly Graham paused and proceeded quickly several yards in the wood, halted and ex- claimed: “ Here it is, Seth.” ’ The latter hastened to his side, and stooping a moment, and running his eye along the ground, both forward and back- ward, replied: ‘This is the trail! They ain’t very keerful "bout it now, but I reckon it’ll make us open our peepers wider to see it, after we get into the wood.” “Well, as the starting-point is now reached, we must per- — our arrangements. ou must take the lead in following this up.’ “ Gan’t you?” asked Seth, looking up in his eyes. “ Not as well as you. From what little I have seen of you, Tam sure you excel me in the knowledge of the forest. Ht have had some experience in fighting, but very little in tra- cing a foe through such a wilderness as this,” “Don’t say? That’s just where you an’ I disagree. T was always the one to track the tories or red-coats for old Colonel Allen, and I remember one time—but I guess I won't go to telling stories now, being as I haven't much time; but I car say, though p’raps I oughtn’t to, that Ican foller any red-skin as far as he can go, and I don’t care how much pains he takes to cover up his tracks. You see, if I undertake to foller this, I’ve got to keep my nose down to the ground, and won't be likely to see any danger we're running into: that’ll have to be your business. You just hang close to my heels, and keep yer eyes traveling all over.” “Pll endeavor to do my part, although I shall expect some aid from you.” “T may give some, as I can tell purty near bout when the imps have gone over the tracks I’m looking at. And now we must start, I promised Haverland that I wouldn’t show my- self again until I could tell him something about his darter, and I swow, I won't. Come ahead!” With these words, Seth started ahead on arapid walk. He was slightly inclined forward, and his keen ees was bent with a seatehing look upon the ground. Graham followed him a few feet distant, with the barrel of his rifle resting in the hollow of his left arm, while the stock was held in his right, so as to be ready at a moment's warning. The signs that led Seth Jones forward were faint, and to an ordinary observer, invisible. The Indians, although they | } } t { 5 ih | calcitic teeta = ~ SETH JONES; OR, THE CAPTIVES OF TIE FRONTIER. 7 had little fears of pursuit, were yet too cunning ‘and experi- enced to neglect any caution that would mislead what enemies might be disposed to follow them. They traveled in Indian file, each one stepping in the track of the one before him, so that, judging from the tracks made, it would appear that but a single savage had been journeying in these parts. Ina was compelled to walk in this manner, and more than once when she inadvertently made a misstep, a cruel blow warned her of her task. Sometimes the leaves, as they lay, appeared perfectly devoid of the slightest depression or disturbance, yet, had one stooped and carefully scrutinized the ground, he would have seen the faint outlines of a moccasin defined upon it, or observed that a leaf had been displaced, or perhaps a slender twig had not yet recovered the position from which ‘it had been forced by the passing of human feet. All thése were trifling indications, it is true, yet they were unerring ones to the practiced eye of the hunter, and as plain as the footprints upon the dusty roads. Soon Seth paused, and raising his head, turned toward Graham. “We are gaining on ’em.” ; ““ Ah—are we? Glad to hear it. When is it probable we shall overtake them?” ““Can’t exactly say, but not for'a considerable time - They are tramping at a purty good gait, and they only halted last night to rest Iny now and then. ‘Darn em’! she'll want rest, I ca’e’late, more’n once afore she’s done with ’em.” “Can't you conjecture their number »” ‘There's somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty of the best’ warriors of the Mohawks. I can tell that by their tracks.” ‘‘ How is that? They make but a single one, do they?” ‘Of course not, but I rayther ca’e’late they make that a little different, fur all that, from what one would. Are you hungry?” 4 «Not at all; I can stand it til] noon, without the least in- convenience.” “Bo can'l; keep a — look-out, and now ahead again.” With these words, Seth again plunged into the woods, and the two prosecuted their journey much as before. The sun was now high in the heavens, and its warm rays pierced the arches of the forest at many points, and there were golden patches of light scattered over the travelers’ path. Several times they crossed small, sparkling streams, where somctimes could be seen signs of the pursued having slaked their thirst, and more than once the’frightened deer hounded ahead, and paused and gazed in wonder at them, then leaped away'again. Graham could anne resist the temptation of bringing one of them down, espécially as he began to feel a desire to taste them; but he too well knew the danger of risking a shot, when it might bring down their most mortal enemies in a moment upon them. All'at once Seth halted and raised his hand. ‘* What does this mean?” he asked, gazing off in a side di- rection from the trail. f ‘* What is it?” queried Graham, approaching him. ‘‘ The trail divides here. ‘They must have separated, though I can’t see what has made them.” ‘*TIsn’t it a stratagem of theirs to mislead pursuers?” ‘‘T believe it is! Here, you follow the main trail, while I take the side one, and we’ll soon see.” Graham did as directed, although it cost him considerable trouble to perform his part. It proved as they expected. In a short time, the two trails united again. “We must’ look out for such things,” remarked Seth. “Eve oon watch the ground closer, and you must look out that I don’t pitch heels over head into a nest of hornets.” They now sn cautiously ‘and rapidly forward. About the middle of the afternoon, they halted beside a stream of considerable size. Seth produced a quantity of dried ven- ison, which he had brought with him from the settlement, and of this they made a he meal. This done; they arose and again proceeded upon their journey. “See there!” said Seth, pointing to the middle of’ the stream: ‘Do you see that stone there? Notice how it is marked, and observe that print of a moccasin beside it. “One of their number has slipped off of it. Let us be keerful.” He stepped into the water, and’ made his way carefully across, followed by Graham. ‘When they stepped upon dry land again, the shades of evening were gathering over the forest, and already the birds had ceased their songs. There was, however, a bright moon—in fact, so bright, that they determined to keep up their pursuit. The progress was now necessarily tardy, as it required tbe utmost straining of Seth’s vision to keep the trail, and. had it not been for the friendly openings in the wood, where it was. as plain as at mid-day, they would have been compelled to abandon it altogether until the morning. Several times, Graham was compelled to stand, while Seth, almost on his hands and knees, searched out the ‘‘signs.” They: came across no evidence of the Indians having encamped, and judged from this that they either intended reaching their tribe before doing so, or that they were somewhere in the vicinity. The latter was the most probable supposition, and prudence demanded them to be cautious and deliberate in their movements. Suddenly Graham noticed the woods appeared to be grow- ing thinner and lighter in front, as though an opening was at hand. He called the attention of Seth to this, who remarked that it was very probable. In a few moments they heard a noise as of flowing water, and immediately after stood upon the bank of a large creek, or more properly a river. . The current was quite rapid, yet, without much hesitation, they plunged boldly in and swam across. The night being warm and moderate, they suffered little inconvenience from. their wet and clinging clothes, as the exercise of walking kept them sufficiently warm. As they ascended the bank, they stood upon a vast and tree- * Jess plain, over which. the trail led. ‘* Must we cross this?” asked Graham. ‘‘T don’t see any otler'way. There ain’t any chance to skirt it, "cause it appears to run up and down about four thou-: sand three hundred miles, while you can see the other side.” This was true—that is, the latter part of his assertion. . The plain before them, from all appearances, wasa prairie of great fobathe but comparatively narrow breadth. The dark line of the woods upon the opposite side could be plainly seen, and did not appear more than a good hour’s walk away. ‘“‘T don’t see any other way,” repeated Seth, musingly, to. himself. ‘‘It’s got to be crossed, though it’s a ticklish busi- ness, I swow!” ‘“Would it be better to wait until morning?” asked Graham. “Why so?” ; ‘‘ We may walk into danger without seeing it, in the night.” ‘*And how do you s’pose we’re going to walk over here in daylight, without being targets for all the Injins that are a-mind to crack away at us?” ‘* Can we not pass around it?” ‘*Stars and garters! hain’t I told you it reaches five thou sand miles each way, and it would take us three years to get half-way round?” ‘‘I was not aware that you had given me such interesting information, until just now; but, as such is the case, of course nothing is left for us but to moye forward, without losing: time talking.” z ‘“‘The trail goes purty straight,” said Seth, tuming and looking at the ground, ‘‘ and I’ve no doubt it heads straight across to the other side. Hope so, ’cause it’]] be convenient.’”” “You must help me keep watch,” said Graham; ‘‘ you will not need to watch the ground all the time, and you will need to keep a look-out elsewhere.” As might naturally be supposed, our two friends, although. quite experienced backwoodsmen, had miscalculated the dis- tance to the opposite side of the prairie. It was full midnight ere they reached its margin. 99 ¥ All was as silent as death, as they cautiously and stealthily entered the wood again. Not a breath of wind stirred the - boughs on the tree-tops, and the soft murmur of the river had long died away into silence. There were a few flying clouds. that obscured the moon at intervals, and rendered its light uncertain and treacherous. Seth still pressed forward. They had gone a few hundred yards, when they heard voices!: Cautiously and silently they picked their way, and svon saw’ the light of fire reflected inst the uppermost limbs of the- trees. The fire itself was invisible, although it could not. be- far distant. Seth whispered for Graham to remain quict,. while he moved forward. He then stepped carefully ahead,, and soon reached a massive embankment, up which on his: hands and knees he crawled. He peered carefully over this, and saw, down in a sort of hollow, the whole Indian. encamp- ment! There were over twenty gathered around, most. of whom were extended upon the ground asleep, while several - sat listlessly smoking and gazing into the fire.. Seth lo but a moment, as he knew there were watchful sentinels, and it was fortunate that he had not been discovered, .as it was. Carefully retreating, he made his way down again to Graham. ‘* What’s the news?” asked the latter. . ‘Sb! not so loud. They’re all there.” aaasctraapaee vaeioaeies , a j ee Seen ‘* She too?” : “‘Ts’pose, though I didn’t see her,” ‘© What do you intend doing?” “J don’t know. We can’t do nothin’ to-night; it’s too near morning. If we git her, we couldn't get a good ’nough start to give us a chance. We've got to wait till to-morrow night. There’s a lot of em on the watch, too. We've got to lay low till daylight, and foller ’long behind ’em.” The two made their way off in a side direction, so as not to be likely to attract. notice in the morning, should any of the savages take the back trail. Here they remain until daylight. They heard the Indians, as soon as it was fully light, pre- paring their morning meal; and, as they deemed they could see them without incurring great peril, they determined to ob- tain a glimpse of them, in order to assure themselves whether Ina was among them or not. Each had suspicion the company had separated, and that their trail had been overlooked in the darkness. Accordingly, the two crept noiselessly to the top. There was a heavy, peculiar sort of brier growing on the summit of the embankment, which was fortunately so impenetrable as to effectually conceal their bodies. Seth pressed against this and peered over. His head just came above the undergrowth and he could plainly see all that was transpiring. Graham, with an unfortunate want of discretion, placed his arm on Seth’s shoulder and gazed over him! Yet, singularly enough, neither was seen. Graham was just in the act of lowering his head, when the briers, which were so matted together as to hold the pressure against them like a woven band, gave way, and Seth rolled like a log down the embankment, di- rectly among the savages! CHAPTER VI. A RUN FOR LIFE. Wuen the sad event just chronicled took place, and Seth made a rather unceremonious entrance into view of the sav- ages, Graham felt that he too was in peril, and his life depend- ed upon his own exertions. To have offered resistance would have been madness, as there were full thirty Indians at hand. Flight was the only resource left, and without waiting to sec the fate of Seth, our hero made a bound down the embank- ment, alighting at the bottom, and struck directly across the plain, toward the timber that lined the river. He had ained several hundred yards, when several prolonged yells told him that he was discovered, and was a flying fugitive. Casting his eye behind him, he saw five or six Indians already down the embankment and in full chase. And now commenced a race for life and death. Graham was as fleet of foot as a deer, and as well trained and disci- plined, but his pursuers numbered five of the swiftest runners of the Mohawk nation, and he feared he had at last found his match. Yet he was as skillful and cunning as he was sinewy and fleet of foot. The plain over which he was speeding was perfectly bare and naked for six or eight miles before him, while it stretched twice that distance on either hand before the slightest refuge was offered. Thusit will be seen he took the only course which offered hope—a dead run for it, where the pursuers and pursued possessed equal advantages. H> was pretty certain that his pursuers possessed greater en- durance than himself, and that in a long run he stood small chance of escape, while in a short. race he believed he could distance any living Indian. So he determined to try the speed of his enemies. ; As he heard their yells, he bounded forward almost at the top of hisspeed. The pursuers, however, maintained the same regular and rapid motion. Graham continued his exertions for about half a mile, making such use of his arms and limbs as to give the impression that he was doing his utmost. To- ward the latter part of the first mile, his speed began to slack- en, and his ae limbs and furtive glances behind him would have convinced any one that he was nigh exhausted. But this was only a oe et and it succeeded as well as he could ‘have wished. The Indians believed he had commit- ted a common and fatal error—that of calling into play the ut- most strength and speed of which he was master at the outset, and that he was wearied out, while they themselves were just warming into the glow of the chase, " Seeing this, they sent up a shout of exultation, and darted ahead at the top of their speed, each endeavoring to reach and tomahawk him before his companion. NEW AND OLD FRIENDS... nn - But their surprise was unbounded when they saw the fugi- tive shoot ahead with the velocity of a race-horse, while his veins, too, were only filling with the hot blood of exertion. They saw this, and they saw, too, that should such s eed con- tinue long, he would be far beyond their reach, ant all now ran as they never ran before. We say Graham’s stratagem succeeded. It did, and it gave him the knowledge he wished. It showed him that he had met his match! His pursuers, at least one or two of them, were nearly as fleet as was he; and, although he might dis- tance them for a time, yet ere half the race was finished he would inevitably lose the vantage ground! Could one have stood and gazed upon this race of life, he would have seen a thrilling scene. Far ahead, over a vast plain, a fugitive white man was flying, and his swift, steady gait showed that his limbs were well trained and were now put to their severest test. As his feet doubled with such quick- ness beneath him as to be almost invisible, the ground glided like a panorama from under them. Behind were a half-dozen savages, their gleaming visages distorted with the passions of exultation, vengeance, and doubt, their garments flying in the wind, and their strength pressed to its utmost bounds. They were scattered at different distances from each other, and were spreading over the prairie, so as to cut off the fugitive’s escape in every direction. Two Indians maintained their places side by side, and it was evident that the pursuit would soon be left to them. The others were rapidly falling behind, and were already relaxin their exertions. Graham saw the state of things, and it thrilled him with hope. Could he not distance these also? Would they not leave him in such a case? And could he not escape ere he was compelled to give out from exhaustion? “At any rate I will try, and God help me!” he uttered, provera, shooting ahead with almost superhuman velocity. e glanced back and saw his followers, and they seemed ie standing still, so rapidly did he leave them be- ind. But as nature compelled him to again cease the terrific rate at which he was going, he saw his unwearied pursuers again ree lost ground. The parties now understood each other, e Indians saw his maneuvers, and avoided the trap, and kept on in the same unremitting, relentless speed, full certain that this would sooner or later compel him to yield, while Graham knew that the only chance of prolonging the ponent rested in his dropping into and continuing his ordinary speed. They now sunk into the same steady and terribly monoton- ousrun. Mile after mile flew beneath them, and still so exact and similar were their relative rates, that they were absolutely stationary with regard to each. other! The two Indians now remained alone and they were untiring—they were determined to hold out to the end! At last, Graham saw the friendly timber but a short distance from him. The trees seemed beckoning him to their friendly shelter, and, panting and gasping, he plunged in among them —plunged right ahead till he stood upon the bank of a large and rapidly-flowing stream. When the Anglo-Saxon’s body is pitted against that of the North American Indian, it sometimes aia but when his mind takes the place of contestant, it never loses. Graham gazed hurriedly around him, and in the space of a dozen seconds his faculties had wrought enough for a life- time—wrought enough to save him. Throwing his rifle aside, he waded carefully into the stream until he stood waist deep. Then sinking upon his face, he swam rapidly upward until he had gone a hundred yards. Here he struck out into the channel, swimming wp-stream as well as across it, so as not to reach the bank at a lower point. The current was very swift and required an exhaust- ing outlay of his already fainting frame before he reached the opposite bank. Here he immediately sprung upon the shore, ran quickly a short distance down the stream, making his trail as plain as he could; and then springing into the water, swam rapidly upward, remaining as close to the shore ag possible, so as to avoid the resisting current. The reason of these singular movements will soon be plain. 4 The shore was lined thickly by overhanging bushes, and after swimming until he supposed. it time for his pursuers to come up, he glided beneath their friendly shelter, and awaited the further development of things. Almost. immediately after, both appeared upon the gpponite bank, but at a point considerably lower down. Without hesitation, they sprung into the stream and swam across. As “_ landed, they com- menced a search, and a yell annou the discovery of SETH JONES; OR, THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. 9 the trail. Instantly after, another yell proclaimed their dis- appointment, as they lost it in the river. The savages supposed that the fugitive had again taken to the water, and had either drowned or reached. the other side. At any rate, they had lost what they considered a certain prey, and with feelings of baffled malignity they sullenly swam back again, searched the other side an hour or so, and then took their way back to their companions, CHAPTER’ VIT: THE EXPERIENCE OF SETH, “By gracious! stars and garters! &c.! &c.! This is a new way of introducing one’s self!” exclaimed Seth, as he sprawled out among the savages around the council-fire. The consternation of the Indians at this sudden apparition among them may well be imagined: The crackling of the undergrowth above had aroused them, yet the advent of Seth was so sudden and almost instantaneous, that ere they could form a suspicion of the true nature of things, he was among them. Their habitual quickness of thought came to them at once. Graham was seen as he wheeled and fled, and as has been shown, a number sprung at once in pursuit, while a dozen leaped upon Seth, and as many tomahawks were raised. ‘“‘Now jest hold on,” commanded Seth; ‘ there ain’t any need of being inahurry, Plenty time totake my hair. Fact, by. A ipncaal : is serio-comical manner arrested and amused his captors. They all paused and looked at him, as if expecting another outburst, while he contented himself with gazing at them with alook of scornful contempt. Sceing this, one sprung for- ward, and clenching his hair in a twist, hissed: “Oh! cuss Yankee! we burn him!” “Tf you know what’s best, ole chap, you'll take yer paw off my head ina hurry. Ef you don’t you mought find it rather convenient to.” The savage, as if to humor him, removed his hand and Seth’s rifle too. Seth gazed inquiringly at him a moment, and then, with an air of conscious superiority, said: “711 lend that to you awhile, provided you return it all Haverland and Haldidge approached. Graham was stooping beside a flat stone, endeavoring to decipher some characters upon tt.—Page 16, right. Mind, you be keerful now, ’cause that ar’ gun cost something down in New Hampshire.” From what has just been written, it will doubtless be sus- pected that Seth’s conduct was a part which he was playing. ‘When thrown into peril by the impatience of his companion, he saw at once that an attempt at flight was useless. Nothing was left but to submit to his misfortune with the best grace possible; and yet there was a way in which this submission could be effected which would result better for himself than otherwise. Had he offered resistance, or submitted des- pairingly, as many a man would have done, he would doubt- less have been tomahawked instantly. So, with a readiness of thought which was astonishing, he assumed an air of reck- less bravado. This, as we have shown, had the desired re- sult thus far. How it succeeded after, will be seen in the re- maining portion of this history. Seth Jones was a man whose character could not be read in an hour, or day. It required a long companionship with him to discover the nicely-shaded points, and the characteristics which seemed in many cases so opposite. United with a genial, sportive humor and apparent frankness, he was yet far-seeing and cautious, and could read the motives of a man almost at a glance. With a countenance which seemed made expressly to vail his soul, his very looks were deceptive; and, when he chose to play a certain role, he could do it to perfee- tion. Had any one seen him when the conversation above re- corded took place, he would have unhesitatingly set him down as a natural-born idiot. ‘‘How you like to burn, eh, Yankee?” asked a savage, stooping and grinning horribly in his face, ‘“T don’t know; I never tried it,” replied Seth, with as much nonchalance as though it was a dinner to which he was refer- ring. ‘*B-e-e-e! you will try it, Yankee.” “Don’t know yet; there are various opinions about that, p’raps. When the thing is did I mought believe it.” ‘You sizzle nice—nice meat—good for burn!” added another savage, grasping and feeling his arm. ‘« Just please do not pinch, my friend.” The savage closed his fingers like iron rods, and clenched the member till Seth thought it would be crushed. But, though the pain was excruciating, he manifested not the least feeling. The Indian tried again, and again, till he gave up and remarked, expressive of his admiration of the man’s pluck: “ Good Yankee! stand pinch well.” pimntineene i eh ns i i 10 ‘ NEW AND OLD FRIENDS. ‘‘Oh! you wa’n’t pinching me, was you? Sorry I didn’t know it. Try again, you mought p’raps do better.” The savage, however, retired, and another stepped forward and grasped the captive’s hand. ‘‘ Soft, like squaw’s hand—let me feel it,” he remarked, shutting his own over it like a vise. Seth winced not in the least; but, as the Indian in turn was about to relinquish his attempé at making sport for his comrades, Seth said: ‘“Your paws don’t appear very horny,” and closed over it with a terrific grip. The savage stood like a martyr, till Seth ‘felt the bones of his hand actually displacing, and yielding like an apple. He determined, as he had in reality suffered him- self, to be revenged, and closed his fingers tighter and more rigid till the poor wretch sprung to his feet, and howled with pain! “Oh! did I hurt you?” he asked, with apparent solicitude, as the savage’s hand slid from his own with much the appear- _ ance of a wet glove. The discomfited Indian made no reply but retired amid the jeers of his comrades. Seth, without moving a muscle, seated himself deliberately upon the ground, and coolly asked\a savage to lend hima pipe. It is known, that when an Indian sees such hardihood and power, as their captive had just evinced, he does not endeavor to conceal his admiration, Thus it was not strange that Seth’s impudent re- quest was compliedwith. One handed hima well-filled pipe, with a grin in which could be distinctly seen: admiration, ex- ultation, and anticipated revenge. From the looks of the oth- ers, it was plain they anticipated an immense deal of sport. Our present hero continued, smoking, lazily watching the vol- umes of vapor, as they slowly rolled before and around him. His captors sat about. him a moment, conversing in their own ee (every word of which, we may remark, was perfectly understood by Seth), when one arose and stepped forward be- fore him. “* White man strong; him pinch well, but me make him cry.” ‘So saying he stooped, and removing the captive’s cap, seized ‘a long tuft of yellow hair which had its roots at the temple. A stab in the eye would not have caused an acuter twinge of pain; but, as he jerked it forth by the roots, Seth gave not the slightest indication savea stronger whiff at the pipe. The «savages around did not suppress a murmur of admiration. Seeing no effect from this torture, the tormentor again stooped sand caught another tuft that grew low upon the neck. Each single hair felt like the point of a needle thrust into the skin, -and as it came forth, the Indians seated around noticed.a livid paleness, like the track of a cloud, quickly flash over their vcaptive’s countenance. He looked up in his tormentor’s eyes with an indescribable look, For a moment he fixed a gaze pon him, that, savage as he was, caused a strange shiver of «dread to run through him. To say that Seth cared nothing for these inflicted agonies would be absurd, Had the savage dreamed what a whirlwind vof hate and revenge he had awakened by them he would have mever attempted what he did. It was only by an almost un- accountable power that Seth controlled the horrible. pains, of “both body and mind, he suffered. He felt as though it was impossible to prevent himself from writhing on the ground in torment, and springing at his persecutor and tearing him limb from limb. But he had been schooled to Indian indignities, and bore them unflinchingly. His temple had the appearance of white parchment, with in- mumerable bloody points in it, as the blood commenced oozing from the wound, and his neck seemed as though the skin had ‘been scraped off! His momentary paleness had been caused ‘by the sickening pain and the intensest passion. His look at the savage was to remember him. After the events which have . just transpired, they remained seated a moment in silence. At last, one who appeared to be the leader, addressed, in an undertone, the Indian whom we have just seen retire from the _ post of tormentor. Seth, however, caught the words, and had be not, itis not probable he would have successfully under- gone the last trying ordeal. sa The same savage again stepped forward in the circle before ithe helpless captive, and removing the cap which had heen re- placed, clinched the long yellow locks in his left hand, and threw the head backward. Then whipping out his sealping- knife, he flashed it a, second in the air, and circled its cold edge around his head with the rapidity of lightning. The skin was nat pierced, and it was only an artifice. Seth never ‘took his eyes from the Indian during this awful minute, ‘The tormentor again retired. The savages were satisfied, Yout Seth was not. He handed his pipe back, replaced his } ““T might with equal justice put that question to you?” “Tf you choose to give no answer, we can’t wait to bandy words with you. Go ahead, Haverland.” “Hold! Is that Alfred Haverland with you?” “Suppose it is? What is that to you?” _ “Fe is the. man whom, above all others, I wish to sce. 1 am Everard Graham; and perhaps he remembers the name.” The woodman now eaetet wonder. A minute sufliced. “It’s he, Ned, sure enough.” toward the shore with a stare of . patraase { ge SETH JONE-; OR; THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. 1k With’ these words he turned the canoe toward shore, A few strokes sent it up against the bank, and he sprung out and ped the hand of his young friend. “Why, Graham, what in the name of the seven wonders has brought i here? I forgot—you did promise me a visit somewhere about this time, but so many other things have transpired as to make it slip my mind altogether. And I can assure you, I have had enough to break the heart of any or- dinary mortal,” he added, in a choking voice. Explanations were then given; and the wonder, gratitude, and apprehension, that followed Graham’s story, may be imagined. Before these were given, Haverland introduced his companion, Ned Haldidge. “Seth promised to bring Ina back,” said he, ‘‘ but I could not bear to remain idle while he alone was searching for her. This good friend here, who has had much experience in border warfare, willingly joined me. I supppose you would like to see the mother; but if you did, you would see a well- nigh broken-hearted one, and | can not bear to mect her until I have learned more of our darling daughter.” “ And if them cowardly Mohawks don’t rue the day they commenced their infernal work, then Ned Haldidge is might- ily mistaken!” exclaimed that individual, warmly. “T don’t know,” smiled Graham, ‘‘ but that with our present number and present feelings, we might make an open attack upon them, especially as we have a friend in the camp.” “No, sir; that'll never do!” replied the hunter, with a shake of the head. ‘‘ They can never be overcome in that way. We could have brought a dozen men with us who could have blown the cowards to atoms, but ’twouldn’t do.” ‘«You then rely wholly upon stratagem, eh?” ‘* Nothing else will do with them critters.” ‘And Heaven only knows whether that will,” remarked Haverland, in a desponding tone. ‘« Ah! don’t give way, Alf; wait till i's time.” “You must pardon my exhibition of weakness,” said he, recovering himself. ‘‘ Though I feel the strength of an army in these limbs of mine, yet I have the heart of a father in this bosom, and I can do any thing for the recovery of my darling daughter. Oh! I can hear her screams yet, as she was torn from us on that night.” Graham and Haldidge remained silent, respecting his deep and moving grief. Soon the father spoke again, and this time his voice and manner were changed. ‘““But why stand we here idle? Is there nothing for us to do? Are we to remain desponding, when a single effort may save her?” ‘““That’s just what I’ve been thinking ever since we stopped here,” replied Haldidge. ‘‘I don’t see any use in waiting, es- pecially when there 7s use in doing something.” ‘Let us depart, then. You will accompany us, of course, Graham?” ‘Certainly; but I should like to inquire your intentions?” asked he, pausing on the bank a moment, as the others seated themselves, ‘J should think you would remember we can have but.one intention,” answered Haverland, in a tone of slight rebuke. “That is not exactly what I meant. Of course, I knew your ultimate intention, but I wished to inquire what course you intended to pursue.” : ‘Oh, that’s it!” replied Haldidge. ‘‘ I've been considerable among the red-skins of this region, and know that they can be soonest reached by going down the river some distance further —several miles below this bend—and taking the land.” ‘‘ But my experience tells me you are mistaken this time. Ina’s captors are now at no great distance, and the shortest course to them, you will find, is a direct line from here, across the open prairie, the other side of the river.” ‘At any rate, we will cross to the opposite bank; so step ” ‘ “Wait a minute. What does that mean?” As Graham spoke, he pointed quickly up the river. From the position of the two within the boat, they could discern nothing. ES yanks ashore, gue and pull the boat out of sight. There’s something afoot, and you mustn’t be seen,” exclaimed Graham, excitedly, in an undertone, as he stooped and grasped the prow of the canoe. The men sprung ashore, and in an in- stant the vessel was hauled up out of sight, while the three made themselves invisible, and from their hiding-places eager- ly watched the river. The object which had arrested the attention of Graham was a second canoe, which was just making its appearance round the bend above, which had first brought his friends to view. in This latter one was of about the same size, and could be seem to hold either three or four persons. The dark-tufted heads of the occupants, rising like statues in the boat, showed un- mistakably that they were Indians. As it came nearer and nearer, Haldidge whispered there was a fourth person in the stern, and she was a female! Haver- land and Graham breathed hard, for a wild hope filled the heart of each; but as: the canoe came abreast of them, while they could plainly distinguish the features of the three savages, they could not gain a glimpse of the fourth person. She was:. covered by an Indian shawl, and her head was bowed low: upon her bosom, as though in painful thought. “Let us fire and send these three dogs to eternity,” whis- pered Graham, Haldidge raised his hand. ‘°Twon’t do ; there may be others about, and if that other: one is Ina, it may only be the means of her destruction. Alf, do you think that is her?” ‘“T can’t tell—yes, by Heaven, ’tis her! Look! she has. moved her shawl. Let us rescue her at once!” exclaimed the: father, rising, and about to start. “Hold!” imperatively and half angrily commanded Hal- didge, ‘‘you will spoil all by your rashness. Don’t you see it is near night? They are now below us, and we can, not get them in such 4 range as to insure us each of them. Wait till it is darker, and we will pursue them. Ihave a plan which I think can not fail. Just restrain yourself a short time, and I will bring things about in a manner that will surprise them: as much as it will you.” Haverland sunk down again beside the others. The night was now fast coming on, and in a few minutes the light birch canoe was shoved foiselessly into. the water, and the three made ready for the race for life and death. CHAPTER. IX. THE CHASE. THE ne was even closer at hand than our friends sus- pected. In the forest, where the withdrawal of the sun was~ almost simultaneous with darkness, it came without much warning. The gloom was already setting over the water, and: Haverland instantly shot the canoe from under the shrubbery out into the stream. 'There were rowlocks and oars for a se- cond person, and Graham took up a couple of them and. join— ed his labors with his friend, while Haldidge took. the steering: oar. As they passed boldly into the channel, the canoe ahe was just disappearing around a bend below. ‘Come, this won't do; we, mustn’t let, theta keep out of our sight,” said Haverland, dipping his oars deep. into the- water, A heavy darkness was fast settling over the river, and our friends noted another thing., A thick, peculiar fog, or mist,, such as is often seen of summer nights, upon a sheet of water,, was already beginning to envelop, the bank and river. . This, as will be evident, while it would allow the pursuers to ap~' proach the Indian canoe much closerthan otherwise, still gave the latger a much greater chance of ‘eluding them.) hardly knew whether to be pleased with this or not... ; “Tt may help us in the beginning, boys, but we’ve got to hold on till it’s fairly down on us... If the rascals catch.a glim se of us before, they'll give us the slip as sure as fate. ust lay on your oars a few minutes. We can float down with the current.” s byerigot { “‘T allow it’s the best plan, although Iam much in favor of dashing ahead, and ending the matter at once,” remarked Graham, nervously handling his oars... a “And while I think of it,” pursued Haldidge, ‘‘I don’t see as it would do any hurt to mufile the oars.” Before starting they had abundantly provided themselves with means for this, and in afew moments a quantity of cloth was forced into the rowlocks, so as to be able to give full sweep to the oars without making enough noise to attract suspicion mh the shore, unless an ear was listening more intently than usual, . snd women By this time, too, the thick mist mentioned had enveloped the river in an impenetrable cloud, and they shot boldly into» it. The light vessel flew as swiftly and aolgelasely as a bird over the water. Haldidge understood every turn and eddy in, the stream, and guided the canoe with unerring certainty around the sharp bends, and by the rocks whose black heads ' became too troublesome; and in this wa ‘ object for the Indians’ hatred. His residence became kn@wn ‘to them, and one dark, stormy night a half-dozen made a de- : scent upon it. By the merest chance, Haldidge was in the 12 NEW AND. OLD FRIENDS. coo and then shot backward within a few feet of their side. In this way a mile was passed, when he raised! his hand a3 a signal for them to cease efforts for a moment. “‘Listen!” he uttered. All did so, and faintly, yet distinctly and distantly, they heard the almost inaudible dip of oars, and the cliek of the rowlocks, ‘Ts that above or below?” asked Haverland, bending his head and intently listening. “I think we have passed them, sure enough,” replied Graham. The sound certainly appeared to come from above them, and all were constrained to believe that, rowing as swiftly and powerfully as they did, they must have swept by them in the darkness without suspecting their proximity. “Can it be possible?” questioned Haldidee, wonderingly and doubtingly. ' : But such was the character of the river-banks at this point, that all had been deceived in listening to the sounds, and the Indians were all the time leaving them far behind. It was not until they heard unmistakably the sounds receding in the distance that they became conscious of the true state of mat- ters. At that moment, as they were dying out, they all heard them plainly enough far below. ‘*We might have known it,” said Haldidge, in vexation. “You've got to lay to it, to catch them now.’ “But is there not danger of running afoul of them?” “Not if we are careful. I think they will run in to shore, soon, and if so, it will be the eastern bank. I will hug that closely, and keep my ears open.” The two now bent to their oars with redoubled powers. They dipped the ashen blades deeply, and pulled until they bent dangerously, while the water parted in foam at the rush- ing prow, and spread away in a foamy pyramid behind. Phe effect of this was soon apparent. The rattle of the oars ahead grew plainer and plainer at each stroke, and it was evi- dent that they were gaining finely. Haverland’s arm was thrilled with tenfold power, as he felt that he was rushing to the rescue of his only darling child, and he only wished he »might have the chance to spring upon her abductors and rend ¢ them limb from limb. Graham’s heart beat faster as he re- » flected that, perhaps, in a few moments, he should be face to face with her who had hovered about his pillow, in visions, for many a night. Haldidge sat perfectly cool and possessed. He had formed ' his plan and imparted it to the others; it was to pursue the canoe noiselessly until they were almost upon it, when the ' instant they were near enough to distinguish forms, they would fire upon the Indians, and dash ahead and rescue Ina at all hazards. This Haldidge, who has been introduced to notice in this chapter, was a middle-aged man, who ten years before had emigrated from the settlements along the Hudson, with a com- pany which had formed the settlement from which he started, and where we saw Haverland and his wife and sister safely domiciled. He was a married man, and his cabin happened ' to be upon the outskirts of the village. He joined and led the whites in several forays against the ae ae when the latter ecame a prominent village at that time, and thus escaped their malignant revenge. Being disappointed of their principal prey, they cowardly vented their hatred upon his defenseless wife and child. When the father returned, he found them both tomahawked, side by side, and weltering in each other’s blood. So silently had this onslaught been made, that not a neighbor suspected a thin wrong, and were horror-struck to find that such dead ?. peri had been so near their own doors. Haldidge took a fearful vengeance upon the destroyers of his happiness. He succee- ded, a couple of years afterward, in discovering them, and, before six months were over, shot them all. As may be sup- posed, his natural aversion to the race was intensified by this tragical occurrence, and had become so distinguished, that his name was a terror to the savages in that section. This will account for his readiness in accompanying Haverland upon his perilous expedition. As was said, our friends were rapidly gaining upon the In- diancanoe. At the rate at which they were going, they would be up to them in the course of half an hour. ey were so close to the shore, as to see the dark line of the shrubbery along the bank, and several times am overhanging limb brushed over their heads. Suddenly Haldidge raised his hand again. All ceased rowing and listened. To their consternation not the slightest sound was heard. Graham leaned over, and placed his ear almost to the water, but detected nothing but the soft ripple of the stream against the roots and dipping branches along the shore. “Can it be?” he asked, with a painful whisper, as he raised his head, ‘‘that we have been heard?” ‘*I do not think so,” replied Haldidge, apparently in as , much doubt as the rest. ; “*Then they have run in to shore, and departed.” ‘“*T fear that has been done.” “* But we have kept so close to the shore, would we not have: seen or heard the boat?” ‘* Provided they landed at once. They may have run in this very minute, and may not be more than a few yards off.” ““Tf so, we must hear them yet, and it won’t do to slide down: upon them in the manner we are now going, or we shall find: ourselves in the same fix we expected to get them in.” ““Very true, and a good suggestion,” remarked Haldidge,. and as he did so, he reached up and caught an overhanging limb, and held the canoe still. ; ‘“Now, boys, if you’ve got ears—” “Sh! Look there!” interrupted Haverland, in an excited’ whisper. ; Each turned his head, and saw what appeared to be a com- mon lighted candle floating upon the surface of the stream. It was a small point of light which at intervals glowed with a. fuller redness, and which for a time completely confounded. our friends. On it came as noiselessly as death, gliding for- ward with such a smooth, regular motion as to show that it. was certainly borne by the current. “What in the name of—” ‘“‘Stop!” cried Haldidge; ‘‘that’s the canoe we're after! It’s an light of one of their pipes we see. Are your guns ready?” “Yes,” replied the two, just loud enough for him to hear. ‘“‘Make right toward it, then, and. fire the instant you see your mark. Now!” At the same instant he released his hold upon the limb, and: they threw all their force on the oars. The canoe bounded: like a ball directly ahead, and seemed about to cut the other in twain. A minute after, the shadowy outlines of three forms could be dimly seen, and the avenging rifles were al- ready raised, when the beacon-light was suddenly extinguish- ed and the Indian canoe vanished as if by magic. ‘It’s one of their tricks!” excitedly exclaimed Haldidge. ‘Dash ahead! Curse them; they can’t be far off.” The two dropped their rifles, and again seized the oars, and’ Haldidge sheered it abruptly up-stream, for he fancied they had turned in that direction. He bent his head forward, ex- pecting each moment to see the forms of their enemies loom up to view in the mist, but he was mistaken; no savages greeted his anxious vision. He guided his boat in every direction— across the stream—up and down, but all to no purpose. They had surely lost their prey this time. The Indians had un- doubtedly heard the pursuers—had muffled their own oars, and so proceeded as silently as they. ‘* Hold a minute!” commanded Haldidge, As they rested, they listened deeply an Rant ‘‘Do you hear any thing?” he asked, leaning breathlessly forward. ‘There! Listen again.” r They could distinguish the ripple of water, growing fainter and fainter, each minute. “They are below us again, and now for a trial of speed.” The two needed no more incentives, and for a time the canoe skimmed over the water with astonishing speed. The moon was now up, and there were patches in the stream, where the wind had blown away the fog, and being exposed to the light, were as clear as midday. Now and then they crossed such spots, sometimes but a few feet wide, and at others sever- al rods. At these times the shore on either hand was perfectly outlined, and they glided over with a sort of instinctive ter- ror, as they felt how easily an enemy might be concealed. In crossing one of these, broader than usual, a glimpse of the Indian canoe showed itself, just disappearing upon the opposite side. They were not more than a hundred yards apart, and they bounded toward it with great rapidity. The patches of light became more frequent, and the fog was evi- dently disappearing. Quite a breeze had arisen, which was fast sweeping it away. aldidge kept close in to the eastern shore, feeling sure that their enemies would land upon this side! > Mr geese EN re a eS pte iat eee siitir Speer 2 a | { SETH JONES; OR, THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. + #48 Suddenly the whole mist lifted from the surface of the wa- ter in a volume, and rolled off toward the woods. The bright ‘moon was reflected a long distance, and the pursuers gazed searchingly about, fully expecting to see their enemies not a dozen rods away. But they were again doomed to disappoint- ment. Not a ripple disturbed the waters, except their own canoe. The moon was directly overhead, so that there was not a shadow cast along the bank, sufficient to conceal the slightest object. The Indians had evidently landed, and were far distant in the forest. “Tt’s no use,” remarked Haverland, gloomily, ‘‘ they are gone, and we might as well be too.” “ Tt is a sore disappointment,” said Graham. “ And as much so to me as to either of you,” said Haldidge. “TJ have an old score against the infernal wretches that will take many years to wipe out. I hoped to dosomething toward it to-night, but have been prevented. Thereis no use of hoping more at this time ; they have eluded us, that is self-evident, and “we must try some other means. Nodoubt you are wearied in body as well as in mind, and don’t fancy particularly this re- maining out in the river here, a shot for any one who might _possess the will; so let us go in to shore, have a rest, and talk over things.” Dispiritedly and gloomily the trio ran the canoe to the bank and landed. CHAPTER X. A COUPLE OF INDIAN CAPTIVES. So sudden, so unexpected, so astonishing was the crash of Seth’s tomahawk through the head of the doomed savage, that for a moment after, not an Indian moved or spoke. The head was nearly cleft in twain (for an arm fired by consuming pas- sion had driven it), and the brains were spattered over numbers of those seated around. Seth himself stood a second to satisfy himself the work was complete, when he turned, walked to his seat, sat down, coolly folded his arms and commenced whist- ung. P A second after, nearly every savage drew a deep breath, as if a load had been removed from his heart; then each looked at his neighbor, and in the scowling, ridged brows, the glitter- ing eyes, the distorted visages, the strained breathing through the set teeth, could be read the fearful intention. Every face but that of the chieftain’s was livid with fury. He alone sat perfectly unagitated. Three Indians arose, and, grasping their knives, stood before him waiting for the expected words. “Touch him not,” said he, with a shake of the head ; “him no right here.” . As the chief spoke, he tapped his forehead significantly with his finger, meaning that the prisoner was demented. The others believed the same, still it was hard to quell the pent-up . fire which was scorching their breasts. But his word was law inviolate, and without a murmur, they seated themselves upon the ground again. . Seth, although his eye appeared vacant and unmeaning, had noted all these movernents with the keenness of the eagle. He knew that a word or sign from the chief would be sufficient to hack him to a thousand pieces. When he stood before his inhu- man tormentor, with the keen tomahawk in his hand, the cer- tainty of instant death or prolonged torture would not have pre- vented him taking the savage vengeance he did. Now that it was - over, he was himself again. His natural feelings came back, _and with it the natural desire for life. The words of the chief convinced him that he was regarded as either insane or idiotic, -and consequently as not deserving death. Still, although saved for the present, he ever stood in imminent peril. The fallen savage had living friends, who would seize the first op- . portunity to avenge his death, Atany rate, let matters stand -as they might, Set felt that he was in hot quarters, and the safest course was to get out of them as soon as possible. It was perhaps ten minutes after the horrid deed, that the savages commenced bestirring themselves, Several arose and carried their comrade to one side, while the others commenced _ preparations for taking up the day’s march. At this moment, the runners who had pursued Graham to the water's edge, re- turned, and the tragical occurrence was soon made known to them. A perfect battery of deadly, gleaming eyes were opened upon Seth, but he stood it unflinchingly. he Indians would . have relished well the idea of venting their baffled vengeance upon the helpless captive in their hands; but the commanding presence of their chief restrained the slightest demonstration, . and they contented themselves with meaning looks. One thing did not escape Seth’s notice from the first, and it was an occasion of wonder and speculation to him. Nothing could be seen of Ina. In fact, the appearance of things wassuch as to lead one to believe that the savages knew nothing of her. Could it be that he and Graham had been mistaken in the party ? Could some other tribe have made off with her? Or, had they separated, and taken her in another direction ? As he ruminated upon these questions, he became convinced that the last sug- gested the certain answer. They could not have mistaken the party, as they had never lost sight of the trail since taking it; and, moreover, he had noticed several slight occurrences, since his advent among them, that satisfied him, beyond a doubt, of the identity of the party with the one which had descended upon the home of the woodman. From the caution which the ag- gressors evidenced in their flight, together with the haste with which it had been conducted, it was plain they had some fears of pursuit; and to guard their treasure, a number had left them at a favorable point, intending to join the main body where pursuit was not to be expected, or where the pur- suers had been sufficiently misled to warrant it. As he re- flected, Seth was satisfied that this was the only and true ex- planation of her non-appearance. The preparations were soon completed, and the Indians com- meneed moving forward. If Seth had entertained any doubts of their intentions relating to him, they were soon dispelled by his experience. It was not at all likely that he would be re- served as a prisoner, unless they intended to put him to some, use. Accordingly, he found himself loaded down with an enormous burden, consisting mostly of food, in the an of deer’s meat, which the savages had brought with them. They buried their fallen comrade, without the ceremony and mourn- ing which might be expected. The North American Indian rarely gives way to his emotions, except upon such occasions as the burial of one of their number, a ‘‘ war-dance,” or some- thing similar, when the whole nest of devilish passions is al- lowed free vent. They indulged in no such ceremonies—if ceremonies they may be Called—at this time. A comparatively shallow grave was dug, and into this the fallen one was placed in an upright position, bis face turned toward the east. His rifle, knives, and all his clothing were buried with bim. The day was a suffocating one in August, and Seth’s suffer- ings were truly great. He was naturally lithe, wiry, and ca- pable of enduring prolonged exertion ; but, unfortunately for him, the savages had become aware of this and loaded him ac- cordingly. Most of the journey was through the forest, where the arching tree-tops shut out the withering rays of the sun. Had they encountered any such open plains as the one passed over near their encampment, Seth would have never lived through it. As it was, his load nearly made him insensible to pain. A consuming thirst was ever tormenting him, although he found abundant means to slake it in the numberless rills which gurgled through the wilderness. * “How Yankee like it?’ grinned a savage by his side, stoop- ing and peering fiendishly into his face. “ First rate; goes nice. Say, you, s’posen you try it?” “Ugh! walk faster,” and a whack accompanied the word. “Now I cac’late I’m going to walk just about as fast as I darned please, and if you ain’t a mind to wait, you can heave ahead. Fact, by gracious.” i And Seth did not hasten his steps in the least. Toward noon, he found he should be obliged to have a short rest or give out entirely. He knew it would be useless to ask, and consequently he determined to take it without asking. So, unloosing the cords which bound the pack to his back, he let it fall to the ground, and, seating himself upon it, again went to whistling! “Go faster, Yankee—youno keep up!” exclaimed one, giv- ing him a stunning blow. ‘ “ See here, you, p’raps you don’t know who it mought be you insulted in that way. I’m Seth Jones, from New Hampshire, and consequently you'll be keerful of teching me.” The savage addressed was upon the point of striking him in- solently to the earth, when the chieftain interfered. “No touch pale-face—him tired—rest a little.” Some unaccountable whim had possessed the savage, as this mercy was entirely unexpected by Seth, and he knew not how to account for it, unless it might be he was reserving him for some horrible torture. The resting-spell was but a moment, however, and just as Seth had begun to really enjoy it, the chieftain gave orders for the replacement of the load. Seth felt dis to tamper awhile, for the sake of prolonging his enjoyment, but, on se- cond thought, concluded it the better plan not to cross the chief who had been so lenient to him thus far. So, with a consider- able number of original remarks, and much disputation about i aa the placing of the burden, he shouldered it at last and trudged forward. Seth was right in his conjectures about Ina. Toward the latter part of the day, the three Indians who had been pursued by our other friends, rejoined the main party, bearing her with them. She noticed her companion in captivity at.once, but no communication passed between them. A look of melancholy relief escaped her as she became assured that her parents were still safe, and that only she and her new friend were left to the sufferings and horrors of captivity. But there was enough in that to damp even such a young and hopeful spirit as was hers. Not death alone, but'a fate from the sensuous captors far worse than death itself, was to be apprehended. In the future, there was but one Hand that could sustain and safely deliver them, and to that One she looked for deliverance. CHAPTER XI. STILL IN PURSUIT. “< Tp seems the devil himself is helping them imps!” remarked Haldidge as they landed. ‘But I trust Heaven is aiding us,” added Haverland. «Heaven will if we help ourselves, and now as I’m in this scrape, I’m bound to see the end. Look for trail.” ‘““Tt’s poor work I’m thinking we'll make, groping in this moonlight,” said Graham. ‘While there’s life there’s hope. Scatter long the bank, and search every foot of land, I'll run up-stream a ways as T’ve an idea they landed not fur off.” The hunter disappeared with these words, and Graham and Haverland commenced their work in an opposite direction. The branches overhanging the water were carefully lifted up, and the muddy shore examined; the suspicious bending or parting of the undergrowth was followed by the minutest scrutiny, and although the heavy darkness was against them, yet it would have required a most guarded trail to have es- caped their vision. ut their efforts were useless; no trail was detected; and convinced that the savages must have landed upon the opposite side, they turned to retrace their . steps. As they did so, a low whistle from the hunter reached their ears. “What does that mean?” asked Graham. “Fe has discovered something. Let us hasten.” ‘« What is it, Haldidge?” asked Hayerland, as they reached the hunter. ‘“‘ Here’s their tracks as sure as I’m a sinner, and it’s my private opine they ain’t fur off neither.” gow Shall we wait till daylight before we undertake to follow Bae ‘‘T am much afraid we shall have to, as there may be signs which we might miss in this darkness. Day can’t be far off.” “Several hours yet.” . “ Well, we, will make ourselves comfortable until then.” With these words the trio seated themselves upon the earth, and kept np a low conversation until morning. As soon as the faint light appeared, they detected the Indian canoe a short distance up the bank,-secreted beneath a heavy, over- hanging mass of undergrowth, As it was during the summer season, their pursuit was continued at an carly hour, so the savages could have had but a few hours’ start at the most. With Ina they could not proceed very rapidly, and our friends were sanguine of overtaking them ere the day closed. The only apprehension the pursuers felt, was that the three savages, fully conscious now that their enemies were upon their trail, might hasten to rejoin the main body, and thus cut | off all hope. They could not be many miles apart, and must have made some preparation for this contingency. The trail to the hunter’s eye was distinct and easily followed. He took the lead, striding rapidly forward, while Haverland and Graham were continually on the look-out for dgnger. Haverland was somewhat fearful that the savages, finding they could not avoid being overtaken, would halt and form an ambush into which the hunter would blindly lead them. The latter, however, although he appeared culpably rash and heed- less, understood Indian tactics better; he knew no halt would be made until the savages were compelled to do go. , “ AhI—see here!” exclaimed Haldidge, suddenly pausing. ‘“‘ What’s the trouble?” queried Graham, stepping hastily forward with Haverland. 14 «6 . NEW AND OLD FRIENDS. Se Spee eases pune eres ‘Their camping-ground; that is all.” Before them were more visible signs of the trail than the had yet witnessed. A heap of ashes was upon the ground; and as Haverland kicked them apart, he discovered the embers still red and glowing. Sticks were broken and scattered around, and all the varied evidences of an Indian camp were to be seen. ‘How long ago was this place vacated?” asked Graham, “ Not three hours.” ; “We must be close upon them.” ‘¢ Rather, yes.” ‘Let us hasten forward, then.” “You see by these coals that they didn’t start until day- light, and as that gal “of Poker Haverland, can’t travel very fast, of course they’ve had to take their time.” ‘Very true; although disappointment has attended us thus far, I begin to feel a little of my natural hope return. I trust that this opportunity will not escape us.” “Ah! more signs yet,” exclaimed Graham, who had been examining the ground for several yards around. “ What now ?” , “That's a piece of her dress, is it not ?” And he held up a small, fluttering rag in his hands, The father eagerly took it, and examined it. “Yes; that is Ina’s; I hope no violence has placed it in our hands,” and several involuntary tears coursed down his cheek at the illusion. “Tm thinking she left it there on purpose to guide us,” re marked Graham. “She must have seen us, of course, and has done all she could to guide us.” “ Very probable ; but it strikes me rather forcibly that we are gaining nothing in particular by remaining here. Remem- ber, the savages are going all the time.” Thus admonished, the three set rapidly forward again, the hunter taking the lead as before. The pursuit was kept up without halting until near noon. Conscious that they were rapidly gaining upon the fugitives, it was necessary to proceed with the extremest caution. The breaking of a twig, the fall- ing of a leaf, startled and arrested their steps, and not a word was exchanged except in the most careful whisper, Haldidge was some dozen yards in advance, and the eyes of his com- panions were upon him, when they saw him suddenly pause and raise his hand as a signal for them to halt. They did so, and stooping downward, he commenced examining the leaves before him. A moment sufficed. THe turned and motioned his two com- panions forward, “ Just as I feared,” he moodily exclaimed, in a half-whisper. “ What's the matter?” asked Haverland, anxiously. “ The two trails join here,” he answered. “Are you not mistaken?” asked Haverland, knowing that He a not, and yet catching at the faintest hope held out 0 him. “No, sir; there’s no mistake. Instead of three Indians, we've got over forty to follow up now.” “Shall we do it?” “Shall we do it? Of course we shall; it’s the only chance of ever getting a sight of Ina again.” “T know it, and yet the hope is so faint; they must know we are in pursuit, and what can we do against ten times our number ?” “No telling yet; come, strike ahead again.” ; _ With these words, the hunter turned and plunged deeper into the forest. Graham and Haverland silently followed, and in a few moments the three were proceeding as carefully and silently as before through the dense wood. As yet our friends had partaken of nothing, and began to experience the pangs of hunger; but, of course, in the present instance these were disregarded. Somewhere near the middle of the afternoon, they came upon another spot where the say- ages had halted. Here, if Haverland and Graham had any lingering doubts of what the hunter had said, they were soon removed. It was plain that a large Indian party had halted. upon this spot but a few hours before, and it was equally evi-~ dent that they had taken no pains to conceal the traces they had made. If they had any suspicions of pursuit, they had no apprehensions of the consequences, as they were well aware of the disparity between the two forces, and scorned the whites. : ; This was gratifying on the other hand to the hunter. He- knew well enough that as matters stood at present, he could hope for nothing except through his own cunning and strata- gem; and, for this reason, it was very probable the Indians. SETH JONES ; OR, THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. 15 were satisfied no attempt would be made. ‘They did not take into consideration the fact that there was an enemy in their camp. Considerable remains of the meal were discovered, and served to satisfy the wants of our friends for the present. The early time in the afternoon showed them that thus far they had gained quite rapidly upon the savages. It was the earnest wish of the three that they should come up to the In- dian party by nightfall; but this expectation was doomed to a sudden disappointment; for in afew hours they reached a point where the trail divided again. This was unaccountable even to the hunter, and for a few moments our friends stood perfectly nonplused. They had not looked for this, and knew not the slightest reason for it. “This beats all creation!” remarked Haldidge, as he again examined the trail. “Depend upon it, there is something meant in this,” ob- served Haverland, with an air of deep concern. “It is some stratagem of the imps which we must under- stand before going further.” “They must entertain different ideas of us from what we thought. You may safely believe that this is some plan to mislead us, and if there is ever a time when our wits shall be demanded it has now come.” During this fragmentary conversation, the hunter was mi- nutely examining the trail. Graham and Haverland watched him a few seconds in silence, when the latter asked : “Do you make any thing of it 2” “Nothing more. The trail divides here; the main body proceeds onward in a direct line, while the minor trail leads off to the west. The division must have been very unequal, for as near as I can judge the smaller party does not number over three or four at the most. No efforts have been made to conceal their traces, and there is either a deep-laid scheme afloat, or they don’t carea fig for us.” “Very probably both,” remarked Graham. ‘‘ They care enough forus to take good care to remain out,of our reach, when they do not ess advantages over us, and have al- ready shown their skill in not laying but in executing schemes.” “Tf we could only give that Seth Jones an inkling of our whereabouts and intentions, I should feel pretty sanguine again,” said Hayerland. “Very likely if that Jones could give us an inkling of his whereabouts and experiences, you would lose a little of that expectation,” rejoined the hunter, with a meaning emphasis. “ But this is a waste of time and words,” said Graham ; “let us lay our heads together and decide at once what is to be done. As for me, I’m in favor of following the smaller party.” “ What give you that idea?” asked Haverland. “TI confess that I can not'give much reason for the notion, but somehow or-other it has struck me that Ina is with the smaller ay ; “ Hardly probable,” returned Hayerland. jueerly enough the same notion has got into my head.” Te Of colrse FOL coi Oe eeeaEe vontoe? “TJ can give what appears to havea show of reason to me. I have been doing a big amount.of thinking for the last few — minutes, and have almost reached a conclusion. I believe that the gal is with the smaller party, and it is the wish of the savages that we shall follow the main body. . We will thus be drawn into ambush, and all further trouble from us would be removed.” “‘Tt seems hardly probable that the savages would run such arisk of losing their captive when there is no occasion for it,” remarked oeeiond, ‘ “It don’t. seem probable, but it ain’t the first thing they’ve done (providing of course they’ve done it), that would make you open your eyes. I believe these Mohawks are certain we won’t suspect they’ve let the gal go off with two or three of their number, when there were enough to watch her and keep her out of the hands of a dozen such as we are. Feeling cer- tain of this, I say they have let her go; and being sure also that we'll tramp on after them, they have made arrangements some distance away from here to dispose of us,” ‘« Sound reasoning, I admit, but here’s something to offer on the other side,” said Graham, producing another fluttering rag from a bush. “ How is that upon the other side of the question 2” queried the hunter. “Tf you will notice the bush from which I took this, you will see it is upon the trail of the larger party, and conse- ee Ina must have been with that party to have left it BIC Sf “Tt don’t seem, so, I allow,” remarked the hunter; “but “Just show me the exact twig from which you took it,” quietly asked Haldidge.. Graham led the way a few yards off and showed him the spot. The hunter stooped and carefully examined the bush. “Tm now satisfied,” said he, “that I was right. This rag was left there by a savage for the express purpose of mislead- ing us. We must seek Ina in another direction.” ‘* Haldidge,” said Haverland, earnestly, “I place great reli- ance upon your skill and judgment, but it strikes me at this moment that you are acting capriciously against reason.” “There’s but one way to decide it; will you agree to it 2” asked the hunter, smilingly. The other two expressed their willingness, and he produced his hunting-knife. For fear that some of our readers may be apprehensive of the use to which he intended putting it, we will describe his modus oper- andi at once. Stepping back a pace or two, the hunter took the point of his knife between his thumb and fore-finger, and flung it over his head. As it fell to the earth again, the point was turned directly toward the trail of the lesser party. “Just what I thought,” remarked the hunter, with another quiet smile. The mooted question was now settled to the sat- isfaction of all, and our three friends turned unhesitatingly to the westward upon the trail of the smaller party. How much sometimes hangs upon the slightest thread! How small is the point upon which great events often turn! The simple fact of the direction in ‘which the blade of the hunting-knife remained when it fell, decided the fate of every character in this life-drama. Had it pointed to the northward, an hour later the three would have walked. into an ambush intended for them, and every one would have been massacied. The hunter was right. Ina Haverland had gone with the smaller party. by CHAPTER XII. PENCILINGS BY THE WAY. WE have said the hunter was right. By the accidental turn- ing of the hunting-knife, he had not only saved his life, but his efforts had been turned in the right direction. It must be confessed that Haverland himself had some mis- givings about the course which they were taking. He could not believe that the savages were short-sighted enough to place a captive, who was secure in their possession, into the . hands of one or two of their number, when they were conscious they were pursued. But the. decision. of the hunting-knife could not be appealed from, and in a moody silence he fol- lowed in the footsteps of the hunter. 6 = It was now getting far along in the afternoon, and the pur- sued savages could be at no great distance. Their trail was S, as no efforts had been made toconceal.it;/but, although didge strove his utmost to detect. is of Ina’s delicate m , he failed entirely; and was compelled, in spite of the assurance which he manifested at the start, to take some g to himself. < eS e hunter, notwithstanding the consummate cunning and skill he had shown thus. far in tracing up the savages, had made one sad mistake. He had been misled altogether in the number of the smaller party. Instead of three or four Indians, there were six: he began to think he had undertaken a more difficult matter than he anticipated. Still, there was no'tithe for halting or faltering, and he strode resolutely forward. ““Ah—some more signs,” exclaimed he, stopping suddenly. “What are they ?” queried his companions, eagerly. i “‘ Just notice this bush, if you please, and tell me what you make of it ?” The two friends did so, and saw that one of the branches of some sprouts of chestnut, growing round a stump, had !been broken short off, and Jay pointing toward the trail. , “TI make it favorable. Ina has done this to guide us,” said Haverland. ‘My opinion exactly,” added Graham. ‘ ; “You are mistaken about one thing. Jna did not do it.” “Did not do it?” exclaimed the others ; “ and who did then'2” ““That’s the question. I’m of the opinion that that white man you have told me about has done it.” “ But it can not be that he is with them too.” ut “Surely it is impossible that the Indians would allow doth of their captives to be in charge of two or three of their num- ber at the same time.” ‘ an Bn “As for two or three, there are six painted Mohawks ahead of us for that matter, I haven’t detected the trail of the gal peri eaeD Penne cnnceap et caiea erento mm sais belneimenene eben inaapre cma Re - = 2 ent nw eames econ 16 vanreremeer-sen A St ern eye eer — NEW AND OLD FRIENDS. yet, but have discovered several times pretty convincing evi- dence that a white man is among them. If you will look at that stick again, you will see that it is not likely your gal broke it. In the first place I don’t believe she is able; for no- tice how thick it is; and, if she could have done it, it would have taken so much time that she would have been prevented.” “ Very probably Seth is among them, although it is singular to say the least. Some unaccountable whim has taken pos- session of the Indians.” “But you say you discern nothing of Ina’s trail?” asked Graham. “ Not as yet.” : “Do you think she is among them ?” °F do” ‘Where is her trail, then ?” “ Somewhere on the ground, I suppose.” “ Well, why have we not seen it, then?” “T suppose because it has escaped our eyes.” “A good explanation,” smiled Grahara; “but if we have failed altogether thus far to detect it, is it probable that she is among them ?” ‘TI think so. You must remember that these half-dozen N\A 7 \) SN NW i NSN \. \ Nia A SS Ww ANA SAAN \ Ks NGS Be LAS DS we ASN Ny) aS Wr “Time is too precious,” replied he, ‘and you won’t find any’ thing here.” “Won't find any thing here,eh? Just come and look at. this.” The hunter stepped back over the stones in the brook, and with Haverland approached Graham. The latter pointed toa broad, flat stone at his feet. Upon it was scratched, with some softer stone, the following words: “Furry forward. There are six Indians, and they haye got Ina with them. They don’t suspect you are following them, and are hurrying up for the yillage. I think we will camp two cr three miles from here. Make tlie noise of the whippowil when you want to do the business, and I will understand. “Yours, respectfully, “Sar JONES.” “Tf I warn’t afraid the imps would hear it, I would vote three cheers for that Jones,” exclaimed Haldidge; “he’s a trump, whoever he is.” ““You may depend upon that,’ added Graham, “for what little I saw of him was sufficient to show me that.” ‘* Let me see,” repeated the hunter, again reading the writ- ing upon the stone, “ he says they will encamp two or three Without losing a moment, he raised his rifle, took a quick but sure aim, and fired.—Page 22. Mohawks are walking promiscuously and not in Ingin file, as is generally their custom. It is se probable that the gal is in front, and what tracks her little moccasins might make would be entirely covered up with the big feet of the Ingins.” ‘‘T hope you are not mistaken,” returned Haverland, in such a tone as to show that he still had his lingering doubts. “ That matter can not be decided until we get a peep at the dusky cowards, and the only course is for us to push ahead.” “Jt strikes me that they can be at no great distance, and if we are going to come upon their camp-fire to-night, we have got to do it pretty soon.” “ Come on, then.” With this, the hunter again strode forward, but with more stealth and caution than before. He saw in the different signs around them unmistakable proof that the Indians were at no great distance. Just as the sun was setting, the triumvirate reached a small stream which dashed and foamed directly across their trail. They halted a moment to slake their thirst, and the hunter arose and moved forward again. But Graham made it a point to search at every halting-place for guiding signs, and he called out to his companions to wait a moment, light for over an hour yet, sufficient to gu us to be moving forward, as there is no time to spare.” Graham, half to himself, as the three again moved forward. when we have the time to spare, we may speculate upon the matter. All ready ?” “ Yegs—but a moment. Haldidge, let us have some arrange- ment about the manner in which we are going to travel. Double caution is now necessary.” : “T will keep my eyes upon the trail, as I have done all along, and see that we don’t walk into a hornet’s nest with our eyes shut. You can help keep a look-out, while you, Graham, who have been so lucky thus far in stumbling upon what neither of us saw, will watch for more signs. Just as like as not, that Jones has been clever enough to give us some more good di- rections.” 7 was necessarily slow, from the extreme caution exer- cised. “Tt beats my time how this Jones got into that crowd,” said | miles from here. The sun has now set, but we shall have ; ideus. It’s best for - ‘He's there, we know, and that is enough for the present; . Each understanding his duty, now prepared to fulfill it. The - The hunter had proceeded but a short distance, when heno- - % y SETH JONES ; OR, THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. Ae ticed his shadow was cast upon the ground; and, looking up, he saw, to his regret, that the full moon was in the heavens. This was unfortunate for them; for, although it discovered the trail with as much certainty as in the day, and thus as- sisted them in the pursuit, yet the chances of their approach being made known to the Totiaiss was almost certain. “ Hist !” suddenly called Graham, in a whisper. “What's up now?” asked the hunter, turning stealthily around. “ Some more writing from Seth.” Haverland and Haldidge approached. Graham was stoop- ing beside a flat stone endeavoring to Gecipher some characters upon it. The light of the moon, eee quite strong, was hardly sufficient. By dint of patience and perseverance, they succeeded in reading the following: “Be very careful. The imps begin to suspect; they have seen me making signs, and are suspicious. They keep a close watch on the gal. Remember the signal, when you come up with us. Yours, in haste, but nevertheless with great respect, “STH Jongs, Esq.” It was now evident that they were in close proximity to the savages. Aftera moment’s hurried debate, it was decided that Ca AP. thy wae, SOME EXPLANATIONS, Tue village of the Mohawks was at a considerable distance from thespot where had once stood the home of the woodman, and incumbered as they were with plunder, their progress was necessarily slow ; besides, knowing full well that pursuit would be useless upon the part of the whites, there was no occasion to hasten their steps. When, however, Seth Jones’ unceremo- nious entrance among them, together with the escape of his new companion and the subsequent report of the smaller party with Ina, was made known, the old chief began to have some misgiv- ings about his fancied security. It occurred to him that there might be a large party of whites on the trail, and in such case, his greatest skill was required to retain the captives. And here was the trouble. If he was pursued—and upon that paint there could be no doubt—his progress must be hastened. is pursuers would follow with the swiftness of vengeance. With the plunder in their possession, the thing was impossible, and he saw, at length, that stratagem must be resorted to. He selected six of his bravest and fleetest warriors—two of whom had been Graham’s most troublesome enemies in his fear-- Catching Ina in his arms, he sprung into the wood, sheltering himself behind a tree.—Page 22. Haldidge should walk at a greater distance ahead than hereto- fore, and communicate instantly with his companions, upon discovering the camp. Slowly, silently and eatienaly the three moved forward. A half-hour later, Graham touched the shoulder of Haverland and inted meaningly ahead. A red reflection was seen in the ranches overhead ; and, as they stood in silence, the glimmer of a light was seen through the trees. The next instant the hunter stood beside them. ; “We've come to them at last,” he whispered ; “see that your priming is all right, and make up your mind for hot work.” They had already done this, and were anxious for the con- test to be decided. Their hearts beat high, as they realized how near the deadly conflict was, and even the hunter’s breath was short and hurried. But there was no faltering or waver- ing, and they moved stealthily forward. ful chase—and placed Ina in their charge, with instructions to» make all haste to the Indian village. Before starting, it occurred. to him that the best plan would be to send the white man also. with them. Were he to remain with the larger party, in case of’ attack, his presence, he had reason to fear, would be their own: destruction, while six savages fully armed and eyer vigilant, could surely guard an unarmed idiot and a woman. The chief, as stated, was satisfied he was pursued. Hence, if he could throw his pursuers off the scent, their discomfiture: would be certain. He believed this could be done. How well he succeeded, has already been shown. The six savages with their charge parted from the larger party,and struck off rapidly” in a direction diverging to the north. Their trail was so con- cealed as to give the impression that there were but three, and this deception we have seen misled the hunter. Sa would what ?” “Feel glorious if I was in dis place.” “ What! marrying Ina Haverland ?” “ No—I mean—ahem !—why, somebody else—that is—yes, somebody else.” “Who else do you mean?” asked the girl, looking him steadily in the face. § eae !—why, you! Darn it, now you know, don’t ou f “Sh! Don’t talk so loud, Josiah, or they’ll hear you.” “§'posen you was in her place, Sal, how would you feel ?” “ Ain’t you ashamed of yourself ” she asked, reprovingly. ¢ No, arnation, I don’t care. Say, Sal, how would you feel ? “Do you mean if I was standing out there with you, and the minister talking to us ?” ““Yes—yes: why don’t you tell me ?” “You know well enough, Josiah, without asking me no such question.” 4 Josiah commenced meditating. Some desperate scheme was evidently troubling him, for he scratched his head, and then his knees, and then laughed, and exclaimed to himself: % do it, by George!” Then turning toward the girl, he said: “Sal, let’s you and I get married, won’t you?” : + y, Josiah !” and she hung her head and blushed, charm- ingly. © —_ Sal, the old folks won’t care. Let’s do it, won't you “Oh, Josiah !” she continued, growing nervous and fidgety. “ Come, say quick, for the dominie is near done, and he'll go home. Say yes, Sal, do.” “Oh, dear! oh, my stars !—yxs !” “Good, by jingo! Hurry up there, Mr. Preacher.” At this point the good minister ceased his benediction upon the couples, and their friends commenced ae around them. The minister started, not to go home, but to leave the room for a moment, when Josiah noticed it, and fearing that he was going, called out: : “Say, squire—you, dominie, I mean—just wait, won’t you? . Here’s another job for you.” “Ah, Lam glad to hear it,” laughed the minister, turning round. “Are you the happy man ?” “ Wal, I reckon’so, and I calc’late as how Sal Clayton there is the happy gal.” ; All eyes were turned toward the speaker, and he stood their smiles unflinchingly. His face was of a fiery red, and a large flowing necktie hung disregarded over his breast. “Go in, Josiah—that’s you!” exclaimed several, patting him on the shoulder. ‘ “ Get out, all of you, till I’m through. Come up here, Sal ; no use scroochin’ now.” The females bore the blushing one forward, until she was near enough to Josiah to get hold of her hand. “Now, go ahead, squire—you—minister, I mean, and don’t be ie ee long about it, for I want to get married most erribly. : _ The company gave way, and the two stepped forward, and in a few moments were pronounced man and wife. When Josiah saluted his bride the smack was a telling one, and the THE TIGER OF IALASCO. 28 ‘ congratulations of Morton and Graham were nothing to those which were showered upon the happy man, Now the sport commenced. An old ranger suddenly made his appearance, bearing a violin under his arm—a “ reg’lar old Cremony,” as he termed it. The word was given to “make ready for the dance.” The old folks disappeared and entered the house, where, with the minister, they indulged in conver- sation, story-telling, nuts, apples and cider. The fiddler coiled himself up on the top of a box, and com- menced twisting the screws of his instrument, and thumping the strings. The operation of “ tunjng” was evidently a pain- ful one, for it was noticed that at each turn of the screw, he shut one eye and twisted his mouth. The violin was at length tuned, the bow was given two or three sweeps across a lump of resin, and then drawn across the strings, as if it said “attention!” As the couples were forming, the violinist slid partly down off the box,so that one foot could beat upon the sanded floor, and then, giving his head a jerk backward, struck up a reel that fairly set every heart dancing. The floor was immediately filled with the young folks. Tall, strapping fellows plunged. around the room, like skeletons of India rubber, their legs bowed out, and sometimes tripping over each other, Rousing, solid girls bounded around, up and down, like pots of jelly, and “all went merry as a marriage-bell.” d By and by the old folks made their appearance, “just to see the boys and gals enjoy themselves.” The fiddler at this mo- ment shot off on the “ Devil’s Dream.”