The Wilderness Fugitives. Ellis Edward Sylvester

of the forms turned and advanced toward them, the distance being so short that he had taken but a few steps when he arrived.

      "Did you see them?" he asked, when he was at their side.

      "See them? Of course we did," replied Rosa, recognizing her brother, "and we heard them, too. They've been standing and talking together right here, close enough for us to hear every word they said."

      "Well, what did they say?"

      "It would be hard to tell what they didn't say," replied Rosa, with something of her old spirit of mischief. "Colonel Butler is very sweet on some young rebel, which I am afraid is about my age, and looks very much like me. He has gone across the river to catch me before I can reach Wilkesbarre, but I don't see why he need be in a hurry, for I don't think we'll see that place within a couple of weeks, unless Lena-Wingo gets in more of a hurry than he is now."

      This "satirical" remark was intended for the ears of the Mohawk, who had approached during the last few seconds, and who did not lose a syllable; but it would have taken more bitter words than ever fell from those sweet lips to stir any resentful feelings in his dusky breast.

      "Talk much," was the only response he made, thereby uttering a truth which not even the young lady herself would deny.

      "What else did he say?" asked Jo, referring to Colonel Butler.

      "Well, the substance of it all was that he had sent a lot of Iroquois across the river to cut us off before we can reach Wilkesbarre, and he has no doubt they will succeed. He goes over himself, so as to be on hand, I believe, to take charge of me – that is, when they catch me."

      "Is that all?"

      "Do you think of anything more?" asked Rosa, addressing Ned.

      "You have given all that was said – that is, all that is worth telling," answered the young man, into whose brain were burned some utterances which had not been referred to by his fair companion.

      "If there is anything else," persisted Jo, "why, let's have it; for though it may seem trifling to you, it may be of importance when weighed by the Mohawk. Out with all you remember!"

      "I have nothing more to tell," replied Ned, feeling the situation becoming embarrassing.

      "I forgot something else," added the girl, in a light manner, that sent the shivers down the back of young Minturn, for his instinct told him what was coming. "You can't ask me to tell you all the bad words Colonel Butler used."

      "Not unless you would like to go over them, but let me know what it was that caused him to speak in that style?"

      "Oh! but he had good cause for it all, for that wicked Captain Bagley told him there was a young gentleman somewhere that thought all the world of me, and of whom I thought all the world, and the idea that I liked anybody else besides him was what made him so angry. I believe you have all now."

      "Yes, I believe I have," replied Jo, with a low laugh. "Jack and I were standing almost as close to them as were you and Ned, and we heard their conversation."

      If the pretty sister had possessed a parasol, she would have made her brother's head feel the weight thereof. All this was pure jest that seemed to intrude itself by a law of physiology into the hearts oppressed so long by grief, dread and anxiety. But there was one heart upon which the airy words fell with a weight of which the speakers never dreamed. To Ned Clinton there was something cruel in this reference to his affection for Rosa. He considered it a sacred secret – perhaps dimly suspected now by Rosa herself – too sacred, indeed, to be spoken of in jest by others.

      He knew that his friends meant no unkindness, but it touched him scarcely the less for all that. He and Rosa had passed a few deep, earnest words, bearing upon that dream of the future which he cherished so fondly, and not the words merely, but the tones, the manner and the occasion gave them a significance which was of the profoundest import to him; and now to hear the maiden refer to them as she did pained him. Was it, then, all a jest to her? Did she regard the picture he had faintly limned as one of those unsubstantial dreams which the young and ambitious are so fond of drawing, and which can never be realized? Did she look upon him merely as a friend – a dear one, perhaps, whom she had known and liked from their early childhood, because they had been schoolmates, and he and her brother were friends?

      In short, was it not evidence that she merely liked, but felt nothing at all of love– that great over-mastering emotion that pervaded and swayed his whole nature?

      CHAPTER V.

      A LIGHT AHEAD

      On the eve of starting for their destination they were confronted by a practical difficulty, necessary to surmount before the journey could be made. Their enemies had coolly appropriated the boat in which they had intended to cross the river, and, another must be found for the use of the fugitives. Ordinarily, this would have been a small matter, but, coming as it did, it presented a difficulty not easily surmounted. Where was the canoe to be secured? Lena-Wingo was the one to whom the others looked to solve the problem, and he undertook it without delay.

      "Stay here," said he. "Lena-Wingo find canoe."

      "If you can manage to get back before to-morrow night," put in Rosa, "it may save us a deal of valuable time."

      "Lena-Wingo come back soon as can – girl don't talk much."

      "I am glad to hear you speak so encouragingly," she responded, as he moved off and instantly vanished in the deep gloom of the night.

      Left to themselves, the three had little to do but to wait and hope that their dusky friend would make good the promise of returning as soon as possible.

      "It is one of those things that could not be discounted beforehand," said Jo Minturn, feeling that his sister was becoming unjustly impatient. "For no one could have dreamed that they would step up at the moment we were ready to start, and run off with the boat."

      "They must have known nothing about Rosa having occupied it this afternoon," remarked Ned Clinton, glad of the chance of saying something that would ward off any approach to the matter that had caused him so much pain. "Their actions showed they did not suspect what had taken place while they were gone."

      "Yes; some of them must have taken that boat to the place this forenoon or early in the afternoon, with the purpose of using it to carry the colonel to the other shore."

      "Suppose Lena-Wingo doesn't find another canoe?" asked Rosa, who felt anything but comfortable over the absence of the tried and trusty scout.

      "It may take him longer than he wants, but he will succeed, you may be sure of that."

      "I should like to know why you and he went off in that mysterious fashion a short time ago?" continued the girl, addressing her brother. "It must have been a very important errand, judging from the way you managed it."

      "Well, I think it was important, for it was to find something to eat, and I notice you are pretty sure to be interested in anything of that nature."

      "Well, did you get any food?"

      "We got on the track of some when Colonel Butler appeared with his Iroquois, and we had to take a look after them."

      "So you didn't find any, after all," she repeated. "It is about what I expected when you went away."

      "Don't be too quick to judge us," replied the brother, in a voice that was meant to signify a deal more than the mere words. "You'll be surprised before long."

      "The only thing to surprise me will be to see something like haste used in getting over the river to Wilkesbarre. I suspect that Lena-Wingo will wait till daylight before making the start, even if he finds a canoe, on the ground that we ought to have something to eat before starting."

      A few minutes after, while the two were in an earnest discussion, the Mohawk appeared among them, and said, in his sententious manner:

      "Come with me – walk still – make no noise."

      The fugitives had been in enough danger to render this admonition unnecessary, but it was a warning which the Mohawk seemed to consider timely on all occasions, for he was much addicted to using it. It was so dark in the gloom of the forest