True to the Old Flag (Historical Novels - American Cycle). G. A. Henty

'em here and would have fixed up two posts, jest out of rifle range, and would have tied them there and offered you the choice of giving up this place and your scalps or of seeing them tortured and burned under your eyes. That's their way. No, they aint caught 'em alive, nor they aint caught 'em dead neither; for, ef they had they'd have brought their scalps to have shown yer. No, they've got away, though it beats me to say how. I've only got one fear, and that is that they might come back before the Injuns have gone. Now I tell ye what we had better do—we better keep up a dropping fire all night and all day to-morrow, and so on, until the redskins have gone. Ef the young uns come back across the lake at night, and all is quiet, they'll think the Injuns have taken themselves off; but, if they hear firing still going on, they'll know well enough that they're still around the house."

      William Welch at once agreed to this plan, and every quarter of an hour or so all through the night a few shots were fired. The next morning no Indians could be seen, and there was a cessation of the dropping shots which had before been kept up at the house.

      "They may be in hiding," Pearson said in the afternoon, "trying to tempt us out; but I'm more inclined to think as how they've gone. I don't see a blade of that corn move; I've had my eyes fixed on it for the last two hours. It are possible, of course, that they're there, but I reckon not. I expect they've been waiting, ever since they gave up the attack, in hopes that the young uns would come back; but now, as they see that we're keeping up a fire to tell them as how they're still round us, they've given it up and gone. When it gets dark to-night I'll go out and scout round."

      At ten o'clock at night Pearson dropped lightly from the stockade on the side opposite to the gate, as he knew that, if the Indians were there, this would be the point that they would be watching; then, crawling upon his stomach, he made his way slowly down to the lake. Entering the water and stooping low, he waded along the edge of the bushes for a distance of a mile; then he left the water and struck into the forest. Every few minutes he could hear the discharge of the rifles at the house; but, as before, no answering shots were heard. Treading very cautiously, he made a wide détour and then came down again on the clearing at the end furthest from the lake, where the Indians had been last seen moving about. All was still. Keeping among the trees and moving with great caution, he made his way, for a considerable distance, along the edge of the clearing; then he dropped on his hands and knees and entered the cornfield, and for two hours he crawled about, quartering the ground like a dog in search of game. Everywhere he found lines where the Indians had crawled along to the edge nearest to the house, but nowhere did he discover a sign of life. Then, still taking great care, he moved down toward the house and made a circuit of it a short distance outside the stockade; then he rose to his feet.

      "Yer may stop shooting," he shouted. "The pesky rascals are gone." Then he walked openly up to the gate; it was opened at once by William Welch.

      "Are you sure they have gone?" he asked.

      "Sure as gospel," he answered, "and they've been gone twenty-four hours at least."

      "How do you know that?"

      "Easy enough. I found several of their cooking places in the woods; the brands were out, and even under the ashes the ground was cold, so they must have been out for a long time. I could have walked straight on to the house, then, but I thought it safer to make quite sure by searching everywhere, for they might have moved deeper into the forest, and left a few men on guard here, in case the young uns should come back. But it aint so; they've gone, and there aint a living soul anywhere nigh the clearing. The young uns can come back now, if they will, safely enough."

      Before doing anything else the farmer assembled the party together in the living room, and there solemnly offered up thanks to God for their deliverance from danger, and implored his protection for the absent ones. When this was over he said to his wife:

      "Now, Jane; you had better lie down and get a few hours' sleep. It is already two o'clock, and there is no chance whatever of their returning tonight, but I shall go down to the lake and wait till morning. Place candles in two of the upper windows. Should they be out on the lake they will see them and know that the Indians have not taken the house."

      Morning came, without any signs of the absent ones. At daybreak Pearson went out to scout in the woods, and returned late in the afternoon with the news that the Indians had all departed, and that, for a distance of ten miles at least, the woods were entirely free.

      When it became dark the farmer again went down to the lake and watched until two, when Pearson took his place. Mr. Welch was turning to go back to the house when Pearson placed his hand on his shoulder.

      "Listen!" he said; and for a minute the men stood immovable.

      "What was it?" the farmer asked.

      "I thought I heard the stroke of a paddle," Pearson said; "it might have been the jump of a fish. There! there it is again!" He lay down and put his ear close to the water. "There's a canoe in the lake to the north'ard. I can hear the strokes of the paddle plainly."

      Mr. Welch could hear nothing. Some minutes passed, then Pearson exclaimed:

      "There! I saw a break in the water over there! There it is!" he said, straining his eyes in the darkness. "That's a canoe, sure enough, although they have ceased paddling. It's not a mile away."

      Then he rose to his feet and shouted "Halloo!" at the top of his voice. An answering shout faintly came back across the water. He again hailed loudly, and this time the answer came in a female voice.

      "It's them, sure enough. I can swear to Nelly's voice."

      William Welch uncovered his head and, putting his hand before his face, returned fervent thanks to God for the recovery of his child. Then he dashed off at full speed toward the house. Before he reached it however, he met his wife running down to meet him, the shouts having informed her that something was seen. Hand in hand they ran down to the water's edge. The canoe was now swiftly approaching. The mother screamed:

      "Nelly! is that you?"

      "Mamma! mamma!" came back in the girl's clear tones.

      With a low cry of gladness Mrs. Welch fell senseless to the ground. The strain which she had for four days endured had been terrible, and even the assurances of Pearson had failed to awaken any strong feeling of hope in her heart. She had kept up bravely and had gone about her work in the house with a pale, set face, but the unexpected relief was too much for her. Two minutes later the bow of the canoe grated on the shore, and Nelly leaped into her father's arms.

      "Where is mamma?" she exclaimed. "She is here, my dear, but she has fainted. The joy of your return has been too much for her."

      Nelly knelt beside her mother and raised her head, and the farmer grasped Harold's hand.

      "My brave boy," he said, "I have to thank you for saving my child's life. God bless you!"

      He dipped his hat in the lake and sprinkled water in his wife's face. She soon recovered and, a few minutes afterward, the happy party walked up to the house, Mrs. Welch being assisted by her husband and Pearson. The two young ones were soon seated at a table, ravenously devouring food, and, when their hunger was satisfied, they related the story of their adventures, the whole of the garrison being gathered round to listen. After relating what had taken place up to the time of their hiding the canoe, Harold went on:

      "We walked about a quarter of a mile until we came to a large clump of underwood. We crept in there, taking great pains not to break a twig or disturb a leaf. The ground was, fortunately, very dry, and I could see that our footprints had not left the smallest marks. There we have lain hid ever since. We had the fish and the berries, and, fortunately, the fruit was ripe and juicy and quenched our thirst well enough, and we could, sometimes, hear the firing by day, and always at night. On the day we took refuge we heard the voices of the Indians down toward the lake quite plainly, but we have heard nothing of them since. Last night we heard the firing up to the middle of the night, and then it suddenly stopped. To-day I crept out and went down to the lake to listen; but it seemed that everything was still. Nelly was in a terrible way, and was afraid that the house had been taken by the Indians, but I told her that could not be, for that there would certainly have been a tremendous