The Frontiersmen. Gustave Aimard

a little earlier. Ruth evidently entertained the same thought, for her countenance exhibited much anxiety.

      "Guthrie's advice was reasonable, most certainly," she said, "although it was not given in the most civil manner."

      "It was somewhat later than I thought," answered Ralph, "but we shall reach home in an hour more, at least. But who is this Guthrie? I believe I saw him at your father's on the night of my arrival."

      "Nothing is known of him, with certainty," replied Ruth. "He has a shanty somewhere below here, where he lives alone, subsisting upon such game as he finds, and upon the trade he drives at the settlements. He is supposed to have been a Tory, and to have been leagued with the Indians of this region; although we merely suspect it – we do not know it."

      "He has an ill-favored countenance. He wears one of those peculiar faces, that we always distrust. Is he often at your father's?"

      "Not very frequently; we entertained the same distrust of him you have expressed, on first seeing him, and that feeling has rather increased than diminished, with only a very short acquaintance."

      "He has certainly rendered us a favor on this occasion," said Ralph, who found their progress was momently becoming more difficult, as the darkness increased.

      It was just at this instant, that a long howl was heard at some distance behind them, but apparently from the westward. In the stillness and darkness which encompassed them, it had a melancholy and threatening sound, which was far from agreeable. Scarcely a moment had elapsed ere the howl which they had heard was answered from the opposite direction; and almost simultaneously it seemed to be echoed by a hundred discordant throats.

      "The wolves!" exclaimed Ralph and Ruth, together. "But," said Ralph, "perhaps they have not scented us, and we may have nothing to fear from them."

      "Heaven grant that it may be so," earnestly replied Ruth; but as if at once to end their hopes, the cries were again heard, sharper and wilder. Just at this moment the moon arose, and began to throw a misty and uncertain light through the forest. Ralph seized the horse upon which Ruth was mounted by the bits, and the animals were at once urged to the greatest speed which the difficulties of their path would allow. The horses themselves felt the alarm, and readily yielded to the impulse of their riders.

      The cries seemed now to be nearly half a mile behind them; and Ralph hoped, at the least, to be able to arrive so near the house of Mr. Barton, that assistance could be immediately afforded. But in spite of all their exertions, the path was so intricate, owing to the thick underbrush and the overhanging branches of trees, together with the rough and uneven surface of the ground, that the utmost care was necessary to prevent the falling of the horses, on the one hand, and to guard against being thrown from them by the branches which were constantly projecting before them, on the other.

      On they rode, with as much rapidity as the utmost limit of safety would allow. They well knew that their only hope of safety depended upon their being able to keep mounted and in flight; for were any accident to happen to their horses, they would be left, in the midst of the wilderness, at the mercy of the ferocious beasts that were on their track. But their pursuers gained upon them; the howls which but a few moments since seemed fully half a mile behind, were now evidently within a much less distance. The woods appeared to be alive with their enemies. The discordant cries filled every avenue of sound. Faster, faster ran the horses – but still nearer approached the sound of the cowardly pack – cowardly when few in numbers, but savage in multitude.

      The moonlight lay in scattered patches in the forest, but every shadow seemed occupied by an enemy. The pursuers had now approached so near, that Ralph could hear the crackling of the dry underbrush and branches, over and through which they ran, amidst the noise of their cries. Looking behind him, he saw the leaders of the pack leaping upon their track, and in the moonlight saw, with terrible distinctness, their glaring eyes and protruded tongues. The horses strained every muscle, quivering with affright, but the wolves were approaching – were almost upon them! Snatching, with a hurried hand, a shawl from the shoulders of Ruth, he threw it behind them. For a moment the chase ceased; and with wild, ferocious cries, the pack gathered around the object which had been so opportunely offered to them. At that instant, when the last hope had nearly vanished, the eyes of the travelers encountered in the path before them the form of an Indian, who, with outstretched arms, requested them to stop. In a moment they approached him, when with a rapid utterance, he exclaimed:

      "Me friend; me Tuscarora – come!" and suddenly seizing the horses by the bits, he led them three or four rods from the path, where they saw before them, in the midst of the forest, a small log hut; although in an extremely ruinous condition, it afforded the protection which, but a few minutes before, seemed utterly withheld from them.

      Again were heard the cries of the wolves, and the noise of their approach! Ralph leaped from his horse, and at once lifted Ruth from the saddle, who, until that moment, had preserved her courage and fortitude, but now fell fainting into his arms. He bore her instantly into the hut, where the Tuscarora rapidly brought in the horses after them; and the door was closed, just as the ferocious pack came rushing into the open space before the hut.

      CHAPTER VI

      "And then to mark the lord of all,

      The forest hero, trained to wars,

      Quivered and plumed, and lithe and tall,

      And seamed with glorious scars."

BRYANT.

      Ralph, as we have said, bore his fainting burden into the hut and the Tuscarora, having secured the frightened horses, at once hastened to his assistance. Ruth, in a few moments, became partially restored; and a blush lit up the pallor of her countenance, as she found herself sustained in the arms of Ralph. Partially withdrawing from his support, she said:

      "You must be astonished, Captain Weston, that a woodman's daughter had so little fortitude as to be unable to withstand the ordinary perils of her condition. I almost feel that I owe you an apology."

      "You have no reason to be ashamed of your want of fortitude, Miss Barton," answered Ralph. "The courage with which you endured that terrible ride was amazing. You have more, much more, than sustained your reputation as a woodman's daughter."

      Ralph now, for the first time, observed the Tuscarora, who was standing silently before him leaning upon his rifle. The Indian was of little more than medium height, and straight as an arrow. His form was rather slight than otherwise, but was fully developed, and gave evidence of great agility and strength. His countenance was open and frank; and in his present attitude of repose, one would not have thought that he possessed those peculiar qualities of the Indian, which we are apt to associate with our recollections of that rapidly wasting race. He looked like a true lord of the forest, – cold and impassive in demeanor, – but concealing beneath that grave exterior a fountain of terrible passions. He had not yet passed the age of "youth," for not more than thirty times, to him, had the leaves of autumn fallen; yet his youth seemed extinguished in the gravity of the warrior.

      Ralph could not resist a feeling of admiration at the well-built frame and noble countenance of the Tuscarora; and advancing towards him, he grasped him by the hand.

      "Tuscarora," said he, "you have this night rendered this young lady and myself a service, for which we shall ever be grateful; you have preserved our lives."

      The Indian, with a modest gesture, seemed to disclaim the gratitude which Ralph so freely expressed – then quietly said:

      "Tuscarora friend to the colony pale-face – me no Kings Injin – me do my duty to friend. Young people careless – all heart – no eyes – no mind wolves; – me know – me waited for 'em."

      "I did not know," said Ralph, "that the wolves of this section ever attacked men."

      "No often; but get hungry sometimes – then ugly – then must look out. Hear that?"

      Since our travelers had entered their place of safety, the forest seemed to be alive with the unearthly howls of the beasts, whose din increased at the loss of their prey. They had rushed up to the sides of the hut; and, as the Tuscarora answered Ralph, a number of them had evidently leaped against the door and the sides of the building with a savage