Edward Ellis - The Wilderness Fugitives

The reader will recall that at the close of The River Fugitives the narrative left our friends in a situation, apparently, of safety; and the belief, on the part of Jo Minturn, his sister Rosa and Ned Clinton, was strong that, in their flight from the dreadful scenes of the Wyoming massacre of July, 1778, they had left all dangers behind. They were confident that, under the guidance of the matchless Mohawk, Lena-Wingo (temporarily absent in quest of food), the road to security was beset by no perils worth the mention.

But, as has also been intimated, they were altogether wrong in this belief. Brother and sister and Ned Clinton were seated near each other on a fallen tree, and it was not yet fully dark when the soft tread of a moccasin was heard on the leaves, and they saw the tall, slim figure of the Mohawk come forth like some spirit of the forest to ask them their business in thus invading his domains. The supposition was so general that he had gone in quest of food, that a common instinct led them to look to see whether he brought anything of that nature with him. There was enough light left to show that he carried nothing but his gun.

"Well, Jack," said Ned, "we thought you had gone out foraging, but if you did, you didn't make much success of it."

"Lena-Wingo didn't hunt eat – he hunt something more."

"Well, did he find it?" asked Rosa, who was more daring in her questions than the others thought it prudent to be.

"Yes – he find him."

"Why don't you bring him here, then, that we may see him?"

"He gone," was the direct but rather unsatisfactory answer, for there was no telling to what he referred.

Rosa was on the point of questioning him further, when it struck her that if he desired them to know what he had been doing he would tell them only when he chose. And so she forbore.

"I hope the result was pleasing to you," ventured Ned Clinton, on what seemed forbidden ground.

"When Lena-Wingo look for Iroquois in canoe, he take knife along."

As this remark was clearly intended in the light of a joke, all felt the duty of laughing at it, although the mirthful inclination was not very tremendous, coming from such a grim source.

"Jo," added the redskin, after waiting for the applause to wear itself out, "want to see you."

The young man thus appealed to sprang to his feet, and placed himself beside the red scout, wondering what he could have to say that he should keep from the rest. Ned and Rosa saw them talking together for a minute or two, when they turned, as if to walk deeper into the woods. At that moment, Jo looked around and called to them in a cautious voice, just loud enough to be heard:

"We won't be back for some time."

This was a curious proceeding, indeed; but there was no use of protesting against it. The Mohawk had a way of doing as he pleased about such matters, and it was useless to interfere. When they had been gone several minutes, it struck Ned that, as they would not be back for awhile, he was given a chance to converse with Rosa, such as had not been his since the invasion of the Wyoming valley.

The consciousness came upon him so suddenly that he was not a little confused by the problem of how he was to improve the opportunity. True, he had spent many hours in the company of the beautiful girl, but it seemed to him that never had he felt as he did then. He was sure that she must be aware of the unutterably tender affection he held toward her – a feeling that had grown within the last few days, until it took possession of his being. Not until the life of Rosa Minturn was placed in peril did he comprehend how much he loved her. When there was reason to fear she was in the hands of the Iroquois or the Tory colonel, and that he might never see her more, then it was that it seemed his heart must break from grief alone. And when, a short time after, she was found without a hair of her head injured, his joy was correspondingly great – so great, indeed, that he was sure all noticed it, even Rosa herself.

The couple were seated upon a fallen tree, there being some two or three feet of space between them. The twilight, which was fairly upon forest and stream, threw the faces of both in shadow, and Ned was glad of it. If there was one thing in the world of which he was absolutely certain, it was that he was never so ill at ease as he was at that moment, it following, as a matter of course, that Rosa could not but be aware of it, and that she looked upon him with pity and contempt. She was wonderfully kind, it seemed to him, and so far as he could judge, showed no consciousness of the pitiful exhibition he was making of himself.

"When we once arrive at Wilkesbarre, and you are safe from the Indians and Tories, I suppose Jack will hasten back to your parents with the tidings, for it will be a great relief to them."

"He hasn't said anything to me about it, but it will be just like him, for he is never content with anything except danger and action."

"It would have gone hard with you if you had had any one besides him to lead you through the woods."

"None is so capable as he when he chooses to exert himself; but I think he has been a little careless. There was no need of his being caught as he was in that house when you went to his rescue."

Although it was too dark for it to be seen, yet a crimson flush overspread the face of the young scout again at receiving such a compliment from those fair lips. He checked the protest that rose to his own with the remembrance of the reproof of Jo, fearing that he might appear to assume a modesty that he did not feel.

"Where one has done so much for us as the Mohawk, it would be ungrateful not to give him what assistance I could. I was as much pleased as was he that I was able to divert the attention of the Iroquois until he found a chance to get away. But, Rosa, you know as well as I that they could not have held him there, for he has been in many a worse situation than that."

"That may all be true, Edward, but you do wrong to throw aside all the credit, as you seem anxious to do. You acted bravely, and you know it. Jo has told me about it, and he said more than that, too!"

"I don't know what he could say more than that," said young Clinton in surprise.

"He told me that you had a dreadful time in getting away from the battle. You had to swim the river out to Monacacy island, and the Indians followed you, and came near capturing both. You acted very bravely again, as any one who knows you might have been sure you would, and helped him very much, indeed. I thank you for that, Edward."

"I don't want to appear in the light of disputant of all that Jo says, but he gives me more credit in that matter than belongs to me. It was all we could do, and more than appeared possible, to take care of ourselves – each of us alone, without thinking of the other. He surely helped me as much as I helped him."

"Well, I shall have to wait till I hear what he has to say about that," responded Rosa, with that persistency so charming in a beautiful woman when it is in favor of him with whom she is holding her argument.

The certainty that he possessed the good opinion of this girl, in spite of his own sense of awkwardness and embarrassment, caused more than one thrill of delight to pass through the young hero as he listened to the words – a thousand times more delightful – coming from such lips as hers.

"I am pleased beyond measure," he said, gathering courage from her utterances, and the darkness that now veiled their faces from each other, "to find that I have earned your good opinion, and all that I ask is that I may continue to deserve it."

"Why, of course you will," she was prompt to reply. "What could you do to make any one respect you less?"