―21―

Mr. Editor,

The following narrative is extracted
from the memoirs of a young man
who resided some years since on the
upper branches of the Delaware.
These memoirs will shortly be pub-
lished; but, meanwhile, the inci-
dents here related are of such a
kind as may interest and amuse
some of your readers. Similar events
have frequently happened on the
Indian borders; but, perhaps, they
never were before described with
equal minuteness.

As to the truth of these incidents, men
acquainted with the perils of an
Indian war must be allowed to
judge. Those who have ranged
along the foot of the Blue-ridge, from
the Wind-gap to the Water-gap,
will see the exactness of the local
descriptions. It may also be men-
tioned that “Old Deb” is a por-
trait faithfully drawn from nature.

E. H.

Edgar Huntly: A Fragment.

I WAS eagerly observant if any,
the least glimmering of light,
should visit this recess. At length,
on the right hand a gleam infi-
nitely faint caught my attention.

―22―

It was wavering and unequal. I
directed my steps towards it. It
became more vived and permanent.
It was of that kind, however, which
proceeded from a fire, kindled with
dry sticks, and not from the sun.
I now heard the crackling of flames.

This sound made me pause, or,
at least, to proceed with circum-
spection. At length the scene
opened, and I found myself at the
entrance of a cave. I quickly reach-
ed a station where I saw a fire burn-
ing. At first no other object was
noted, but it was easy to infer that
the fire was kindled by men, and
that they who kindled it could be
at no great distance.

Thus was I delivered from my
prison and restored to the enjoy-
ment of the air and the light. Per-
haps the chance was almost mira-
culous that led me to this opening.
In any other direction, I might
have involved myself in an inextri-
cable maze, and rendered my de-
struction sure: but what now re-
mained to place me in absolute se-
curity? Beyond the fire I could
see nothing; but since the smoke
rolled rapidly away, it was plain
that on the opposite side the ca-
vern was open to the air.

I went forward, but my eyes were
fixed upon the fire; presently, in
consequence of changing my sta-
tion, I perceived several feet, and
the skirts of blankets. I was some-
what startled at these appearances.
The legs were naked, and scored
into uncouth figures. The mocas-
sins which lay beside them, and
which were adorned in a grotesque
manner, in addition to other inci-
dents, immediately suggested the
suspicion that they were Indians.

No spectacle was more adapted
than this to excite wonder and
alarm. Had some mysterious power
snatched me from the earth, and cast
me, in a moment, into the heart of
the wilderness? Was I still in the

vicinity of my paternal habitation,
or was I thousands of miles distant?

Were these the permanent inha-
bitants of this region, or were they
wanderers and robbers? While in
the heart of the mountain, I had
entertained a vague belief that I
was still within the precincts of
Norwalk. This opinion was shaken
for a moment by the objects which
I now beheld, but it insensibly re-
turned; yet, how was this opinion
to be reconciled to appearances so
strange and uncouth, and what
measures did a due regard to my
safety enjoin me to take?

I now gained a view of four
brawny and terrific figures, stretch-
ed upon the ground. They lay
parallel to each other, on their left
sides; in consequence of which
their faces were turned from me.
Between each was an interval where
lay a musquet. Their right hands
seemed placed upon the stocks of
their guns, as if to seize them on
the first moment of alarm.

The aperture through which
these objects were seen, was at the
back of the cave, and some feet
from the ground. It was merely
large enough to suffer an human
body to pass. It was involved in
profound darkness, and there was
no danger of being suspected or
discovered, as long as I maintained
silence, and kept out of view.

It was easily imagined that these
guests would make but a short so-
journ in this spot. There was rea-
son to suppose that it was now
night, and that, after a short repose,
they would start up and resume
their journey. It was my first de-
sign to remain shrowded in this co-
vert till their departure, and I pre-
pared to endure imprisonment and
thirst somewhat longer.

Meanwhile my thoughts were
busy in accounting for this specta-
cle. I need not tell thee that Nor-
walk is the termination of a sterile

―23―

and narrow tract which begins in
the Indian country. It forms a
sort of rugged and rocky vein, and
continues upwards of fifty miles. It
is crossed in a few places by narrow
and intricate paths, by which a
communication is maintained be-
tween the farms and settlements on
the opposite sides of the ridge.

During former Indian wars, this
rude surface was sometimes tra-
versed by the Red-men, and they
made, by means of it, frequent and
destructive inroads into the heart of
the English settlements. During
the last war, notwithstanding the
progress of population, and the
multiplied perils of such an expedi-
tion, a band of them had once
penetrated into Norwalk, and lin-
gered long enough to pillage and
murder some of the neighbouring
inhabitants.

I have reason to remember that
event. My father's house was
placed on the verge of this solitude.
Eight of these assassins assailed it at
the dead of night. My parents and
an infant child were murdered in
their beds; the house was pillaged,
and then burnt to the ground.
Happily, myself and my two sisters
were abroad upon a visit. The
preceding day had been fixed for
our return to our father's house, but
a storm occurred, which made it
dangerous to cross the river, and,
by obliging us to defer our journey,
rescned us from captivity or death.

Most men are haunted by some
species of terror or antipathy, which
they are, for the most part, able to
trace to some incident which befel
them in their early years. You
will not be surprized that the fate of
my parents, and the sight of the
body of one of this savage band
who, in the pursuit that was made
after them, was overtaken and kil-
led, should produce lasting and ter-
rific images in my fancy. I never
looked upon, or called up the image
of a savage without shuddering.

I knew that, at this time, some
hostilities had been committed on
the frontier; that a long course of
injuries and encroachments had
greatly exasperated the Indian
tribes; that an implacable and
exterminating war was generally
expected. We imagined ourselves
at an inaccessible distance from the
danger, but I could not but re-
member that this persuasion was
formerly as strong as at present, and
that an expedition, which had once
succeeded, might possibly be at-
tempted again. Here was every
token of enmity and bloodshed.
Each prostrate figure was furnished
with a rifled musquet, and a leathern
bag tied round his waist, which
was, probably, stored with powder
and ball.

From these reflections, the sense
of my own danger was revived and
enforced, but I likewise ruminated
on the evils which might impend
over others. I should, no doubt, be
safe by remaining in this nook; but
might not some means be pursued
to warn others of their danger?
Should they leave this spot, with-
out notice of their approach being
given to the fearless and pacific
tenants of the neighbouring dis-
trict, they might commit, in a few
hours, the most horrid and irrepara-
ble devastation.

The alarm could only be diffused
in one way. Could I not escape,
unperceived, and without alarming
the sleepers, from this cavern?
The slumber of an Indian is bro-
ken by the slightest noise; but if all
noise be precluded, it is commonly
profound. It was possible, I con-
ceived, to leave my present post to
descend into the cave, and issue
forth without the smallest signal.
Their supine posture assured me
that they were asleep. Sleep usually
comes at their bidding, and if, per-
chance, they should be wakeful at
an unseasonable moment, they al-
ways sit upon their haunches, and,

―24―

leaning their elbows on their knees,
consume the tedious hours in
smoking. My peril would be
great. Accidents which I could
not foresee, and over which I had
no command, might occur to
awaken some one at the moment I
was passing the fire. Should I pass
in safety, I might issue forth into a
wilderness of which I had no know-
ledge, where I might wander till I
perished with famine, or where my
footsteps might be noted and pur-
sued, and overtaken by these im-
placable foes. These perils were
enormous and imminent; but I
likewise considered that I might
be at no great distance from the
habitations of men, and that my
escape might rescue them from the
most dreadful calamities. I deter-
mined to make this dangerous ex-
periment without delay.

I came nearer to the aperture,
and had, consequently, a larger view
of this recess: To my unspeakable
dismay, I now caught a glimpse of
one, seated at the fire, and smoking
his pipe. His back was turned to-
wards me, so that I could distinctly
survey his gigantic form and fan-
tastic ornaments.

My project was frustrated. This
one was probably commissioned to
watch and to awaken his compa-
nions when a due portion of sleep
had been taken. That he would
not be unfaithful or remiss in the
performance of the part assigned
to him was easily predicted. To
pass him without exciting his no-
tice, and the entrance could not
otherwise be reached, was impossi-
ble. Once more I shrunk back
and revolved with hopelessness and
anguish, the necessity to which I
was reduced.

This interval of dreary forebod-
ing did not last long. Some mo-
tion in him that was seated by the
fire attracted my notice. I looked,
and beheld him rise from his place
and go forth from the cavern. This

unexpected incident led my thoughts
into a new channel. Could not
some advantage be taken of his ab-
sence? Could not this opportunity
be seized for making my escape?
He had left his gun and hatchet on
the ground. It was likely, there-
fore, that he had not gone far, and
would speedily return. Might not
these weapons be seized, and some
provision be thus made against the
danger of meeting him without, or
of being pursued?

Before a resolution could be form-
ed, a new sound saluted my ear.
It was a deep groan, succeeded by
sobs that seemed struggling for ut-
terance, but were vehemently coun-
teracted by the sufferer. This
low and bitter lamentation appa-
rently proceeded from some one
within the cave. It could not be
from one of this swarthy band. It
must then proceed from a captive,
whom they had reserved for tor-
ment or servitude, and who had
seized the opportunity afforded by
the absence of him that watched, to
give vent to his despair.

I again thrust my head forward,
and beheld, lying on the ground,
apart from the rest, and bound
hand and foot, a young girl. Her
dress was the coarse russet garb of
the country, and bespoke her to be
some farmer's daughter. Her fea-
tures denoted the last degree of fear
and anguish, and she moved her
limbs in such a manner as shewed
that the ligatures by which she was
confined, produced, by their tight-
ness, the utmost degree of pain.

My wishes were now bent not
only to preserve myself, and to
frustrate the future attempts of these
savages, but likewise to relieve this
miserable victim. This could only
be done by escaping from the ca-
vern and returning with seasonable
aid. The sobs of the girl were
likely to rouse the sleepers. My ap-
pearance before her would prompt
her to testify her surprise by some

―25―

exclamation or shriek. What could
hence be predicted but that the
band would start on their feet, and
level their unerring pieces at my
head!

I know not why I was insensible
to these dangers. My thirst was
rendered by these delays intolerable.
It took from me, in some degree,
the power of deliberation. The
murmurs which had drawn me
hither continued still to be heard.
Some torrent or cascade could not
be far distant from the entrance of
the cavern, and it seemed as if one
draught of clear water was a luxury
cheaply purchased by death itself.
This, in addition to considerations
more disinterested, and which I
have already mentioned, impelled
me forward.

The girl's cheek rested on the
hard rock, and her eyes were dim
with tears. As they were turned
towards me, however, I hoped that
my movements would be noticed
by her gradually and without ab-
ruptness. This expectation was
fulfilled. I had not advanced many
steps before she discovered me.
This moment was critical beyond
all others in the course of my
existence. My life was suspended,
as it were, by a spider's thread.
All rested on the effect which this
discovery should make upon this
feeble victim.

I was watchful of the first move-
ment of her eye, which should in-
dicate a consciousness of my pre-
sence. I laboured, by gestures and
looks, to deter her from betraying
her emotion. My attention was,
at the same time, fixed upon the
sleepers, and an anxious glance was
cast towards the quarter whence the
watchful savage might appear.

I stooped and seized the musquet
and hatchet. The space beyond
the fire was, as I expected, open to
the air. I issued forth with trem-
bling steps. The sensations in-
spired by the dangers which envi-

roned me, added to my recent hor-
rors, and the influence of the moon,
which had now gained the zenith,
and whose lustre dazzled my long
benighted senses, cannot be ade-
quately described.

For a minute I was unable to
distinguish objects. This confu-
sion was speedily corrected, and I
found myself on the verge of a
steep. Craggy eminences arose on
all sides. On the left hand was a
space that offered some footing, and
hither I turned. A torrent was be-
low me, and this path appeared to
lead to it. It quickly appeared in
sight, and all foreign cares were,
for a time, suspended.

This water fell from the upper
regions of the hill, upon a flat pro-
jecture which was continued on
either side, and on part of which I
was now standing. The path was
bounded on the left by an inacces-
sible wall, and on the right termi-
nated at the distance of two or three
feet from the wall, in a precipice.
The water was eight or ten paces
distant, and no impediment seemed
likely to rise between us. I rushed
forward with speed.

My progress was quickly check-
ed. Close to the falling water,
seated on the edge, his back sup-
ported by the rock, and his legs
hanging over the precipice, and
tranquilly employed in smoking, I
now beheld the savage who left the
cave before me. The noise of the
cascade and the improbability of in-
terruption, at least from this quar-
ter, had made him inattentive to
my motions.

I paused. Along this verge lay
the only road by which I could
reach the water, and by which I
could escape. The passage was
completely occupied by this anta-
gonist. To advance towards him,
or to remain where I was, would
produce the same effect. I should,
in either case, be detected. He
was unarmed; but his outcries

―26―

would instantly summon his com-
panions to his aid. I could not
hope to overpower him, and pass
him in defiance of his opposition.
But if this were effected, pursuit
would be instantly commenced. I
was unacquainted with the way.
The way was unquestionably diffi-
cult. My strength was nearly an-
nihilated: I should be overtaken in
a moment, or their deficiency in
speed would be supplied by the ac-
curacy of their aim. Their bul-
lets, at least, would reach me.

There was one method of re-
moving this impediment. The
piece which I held in my hand
was cocked. There could be no
doubt that it was loaded. A pre-
caution of this kind would never be
omitted by a warrior of this hue.
At a greater distance than this, I
should not fear to reach the mark.
Should I not discharge it, and, at
the same moment, rush forward to
secure the road which my adver-
sary's death would open to me?

Perhaps you will conceive a pur-
pose like this to have argued a san-
guinary and murderous disposition.
Let it be remembered, however,
that I entertained no doubts about
the hostile designs of these men.
This was sufficiently indicated by
their arms, their guise, and the
captive who attended them. Let
the fate of my parents be, likewise,
remembered. I was not certain
but that these very men were the
assassins of my family, and were
those who had reduced me and my
sisters to the condition of orphans
and dependants. No words can
describe the torments of my thirst.
Relief to these torments, and safety
to my life, were within view. How
could I hesitate?

Yet I did hesitate. My aversion
to bloodshed was not to be subdued
but by the direst necessity. I
knew, indeed, that the discharge
of a musquet would only alarm
the enemies which remained be-

hind; but I had another and a bet-
ter weapon in my grasp: I could
rive the head of my adversary, and
cast him headlong, without any
noise which should be heard, in the
cavern.

Still I was willing to withdraw,
to re-enter the cave, and take shelter
in the darksome recesses from which
I had emerged. Here I might re-
main, unsuspected, till these de-
tested guests should depart. The
hazards attending my re-entrance
were to be boldly encountered, and
the torments of unsatisfied thirst
were to be patiently endured, rather
than imbrue my hands in the blood
of my fellow men. But this expe-
dient would be ineffectual if my re-
treat should be observed by this
savage. Of that I was bound to be
incontestibly assured. I retreated,
therefore, but kept my eye fixed
at the same time upon the enemy.

Some ill fate decreed that I should
not retreat unobserved. Scarcely
had I withdrawn three paces when
he started from his seat, and turn-
ing towards me, walked with a
quick pace. The shadow of the
rock, and the improbability of
meeting an enemy here, concealed
me for a moment from his observa-
tion. I stood still. The slightest
motion would have attracted his
notice. At present, the narrow
space engaged all his vigilance.
Cautious footsteps, and attention to
the path, were indispensable to his
safety. The respite was momen-
tary, and I employed it in my own
defence.

How otherwise could I act?
The danger that impended aimed
at nothing less than my life. To
take the life of another was the
only method of averting it. The
means were in my hand, and they
were used. In an extremity like
this, my muscles would have acted
almost in defiance of my will.

The stroke was quick as light-
ning, and the wound mortal and

―27―

deep. He had not time to descry
the author of his fate; but, sinking
on the path, expired without a
groan. The hatchet buried itself
in his breast, and rolled with him
to the bottom of the precipice.

Never before had I taken the life
of an human creature. On this
head, I had, indeed, entertained
somewhat of religious scruples.
These scruples did not forbid me
to defend myself, but they made
me cautious and reluctant to decide.
Though they could not withhold
my hand, when urged by a neces-
sity like this, they were sufficient
to make me look back upon the
deed with remorse and dismay.

I did not escape all compunc-
tion in the present instance, but
the tumult of my feelings was
quickly allayed. To quench my
thirst was a consideration by which
all others were supplanted. I ap-
proached the torrent, and not only
drank copiously, but laved my
head, neck, and arms, in this de-
licious element.

Never was any delight worthy
of comparison with the raptures
which I then experienced. Life,
that was rapidly ebbing, appeared
to return upon me with redoubled
violence. My languors, my ex-
cruciating heat, vanished in a mo-
ment, and I felt prepared to under-
go the labours of Hercules. Having
fully supplied the demands of na-
ture in this respect, I returned to
reflection on the circumstances of
my situation. The path winding
round the hill was now free from
all impediments. What remained
but to precipitate my flight? I
might speedily place myself beyond
all danger. I might gain some
hospitable shelter, where my fa-
tigues might be repaired by repose,
and my wounds be cured. I might
likewise impart to my protectors
seasonable information of the ene-
mies who meditated their destruc-
tion.

I thought upon the condition of
the hapless girl whom I had left in
the power of the savages. Was it
impossible to rescue her? Might I
not relieve her from her bonds, and
make her the companion of my
flight? The exploit was perilous
but not impracticable. There was
something dastardly and ignomini-
ous in withdrawing from the dan-
ger, and leaving an helpless being
exposed to it. A single minute
might suffice to snatch her from
death or captivity. The parents
might deserve that I should hazard,
or even sacrifice my life, in the
cause of their child.

After some fluctuation, I deter-
mined to return to the cavern, and
attempt the rescue of the girl. The
success of this project depended on
the continuance of their sleep. It
was proper to approach with wari-
ness, and to heed the smallest token
which might bespeak their condi-
tion. I crept along the path, bend-
ing my ear forward to catch any
sound that might arise. I heard
nothing but the half-stifled sobs of
the girl.

I entered with the slowest and
most anxious circumspection. Eve-
ry thing was found in its pristine
state. The girl noticed my en-
trance with a mixture of terror and
joy. My gestures and looks en-
joined upon her silence. I stooped
down, and taking another hatchet,
cut asunder the deer-skin thongs
by which her wrists and ancles
were tied. I then made signs for
her to rise and follow me. She
willingly complied with my direc-
tions; but her benumbed joints and
lacerated sinews, refused to support
her. There was no time to be lost:
I, therefore, lifted her in my arms,
and, feeble and tottering as I was,
proceeded, with this burthen, along
the perilous steep, and over a most
rugged path.

I hoped that some exertion would
enable her to retrieve the use of her

―28―

limbs. I set her, therefore, on her
feet, exhorting her to walk as well
as she was able, and promising her
my occasional assistance. The
poor girl was not deficient in zeal,
and presently moved along with
light and quick steps. We speedily
reached the bottom of the hill.

No fancy can conceive a scene
more wild and desolate than that
which now presented itself. The
soil was nearly covered with sharp
fragments of stone. Between these
sprung brambles and oak-bushes,
whose twigs, crossing and inter-
twining with each other, added to
the roughnesses below, made the
passage infinitely toilsome. Scat-
tered over this space were single
trees and copses of dwarf-oaks,
which were only new emblems of
sterility.

I was wholly unacquainted with
the scene before me. No marks
of habitation or culture, no traces
of the footsteps of men, were dis-
cernible. I scarcely knew in what
region of the globe I was placed.
I had come hither by means so in-
explicable, as to leave it equally in
doubt, whether I was separated
from my paternal abode by a river
or an ocean.

I made inquiries of my com-
panion, but she was unable to talk
coherently. She answered my
questions with weeping, and sobs,
and intreaties, to fly from the scene
of her distress. I collected from
her, at length, that her father's house
had been attacked on the preceding
evening, and all the family but
herself destroyed. Since this dis-
aster she had walked very fast and
a great way, but knew not how
far or in what direction.

In a wilderness like this, my
only hope was to light upon ob-
scure paths, made by cattle. Mean-
while I endeavoured to adhere to
one line, and to burst through the
vexatious obstacles which encum-
bered our way. The ground was

concealed by the bushes, and we
were perplexed and fatigued by a
continual succession of hollows and
prominences. At one moment we
were nearly thrown headlong into
a pit, or struck our feet against the
angles of stones. The withes and
branches of the oak entangled our
legs, and the unseen thorns inflicted
on us a thousand wounds.

I was obliged, in these arduous
circumstances, to support not only
myself but my companion. Her
strength was overpowered by her
evening journey, and the terror of
being overtaken incessantly har-
rassed her.

Sometimes we lighted upon tracks
which afforded us an easier footing,
and inspired us with courage to
proceed. These, for a time, ter-
minated at a brook or in a bog, and
we were once more compelled to go
forward at random. One of these
tracks insensibly became more bea-
ten, and, at length, exhibited the
traces of wheels. To this I ad-
hered, confident that it would
finally conduct us to a dwelling.

On either side, the undergrowth
of shrubs and brambles continued
as before. Sometimes small spaces
were observed, which had lately
been cleared by fire. At length a
vacant space of larger dimensions
than had hitherto occurred, pre-
sented itself to my view. It was a
field of some acres, that had, ap-
parently, been upturned by the
hoe. At the corner of this field
was a small house.

My heart leaped with joy at this
sight. I hastened toward it, in the
hope that my uncertainties, and
toils, and dangers, were now draw-
ing to a close. This dwelling was
suited to the poverty and desolation
which surrounded it. It consisted
of a few unhewn logs, laid upon
each other, to the height of eight
or ten feet, including a quadrangu-
lar space of similar dimensions, and
covered by thatch. There was no

―29―

window, light being sufficiently
admitted into the crevices between
the logs. These had formerly been
loosely plastered with clay, but air
and rain had crumbled and washed
the greater part of this rude cement
away. Somewhat like a chimney,
built of half-burnt bricks, was per-
ceived at one corner. The door
was fastened by a leathern thong,
tied to a peg.

All within was silence and dark-
ness. I knocked at the door and
called, but no one moved or an-
swered. The tenant, whoever he
was, was absent. His leave could
not be obtained, and I, therefore,
entered without it. The autumn
had made some progress, and the
air was frosty and sharp. My
mind and muscles had been, of late,
so strenuously occupied, that the
cold had not been felt. The cessa-
tion of exercise, however, quickly
restored my sensibility in this re-
spect, and the unhappy girl com-
plained of being half frozen.

Fire, therefore, was the first ob-
ject of my search. Happily, some
embers were found upon the hearth,
together with potatoe stalks and
dry chips. Of these, with much
difficulty, I kindled a fire, by which
some warmth was imparted to our
shivering limbs. The light enabled
me, as I sat upon the ground, to
survey the interior of this mansion.

Three saplins, stripped of their
branches, and bound together at
their ends by twigs, formed a kind
of bedstead, which was raised from
the ground by four stones. Ropes
stretched across these, and covered
by a blanket, constituted the bed.
A board, of which one end rested
on the bedstead, and the other was
thrust between the logs that com-
posed the wall, sustained a cedar
bucket, replenished with brackish
water, and the reliques of a loaf of
rye bread. An axe, spade, and
hoe, completed all the furniture of
this habitation that was visible.

Next to cold, hunger was the
most urgent necessity by which we
were now pressed. This was no time
to give ear to scruples. We, there-
fore, unceremoniously divided the
bread and the water between us.
I had now leisure to bestow some
regards upon the future.

These remnants of fire and food
convinced me that this dwelling
was usually inhabited, and that it
had lately been deserted. Some en-
gagement had probably carried the
tenant abroad. His absence might
be terminated in a few minutes, or
might endure through the night.
On his return, I questioned not
my power to appease any indigna-
tion he might feel at the liberties
which I had taken. I was willing
to suppose him one who would
readily afford us all the information
and succour that we needed.

If he should not return till sun-
rise I meant to resume my jour-
ney. By the comfortable meal we
had made, and the repose of a few
hours, we should be considerably
invigorated and refreshed, and the
road would lead us to some more
hospitable tenement.

My thoughts were too tumultu-
ous, and my situation too ambigu-
ous, to allow me to sleep. The
girl, on the contrary, soon sunk
into a sweet oblivion of all her
cares. She laid her head upon my
knees, and left me to ruminate with-
out interruption.

I was not wholly free from the
apprehension of danger. What in-
fluence his boisterous and solitary
life might have upon the temper of
the being who inhabited this hut,
I could not predict. How soon the
Indians might awake, and what
path they would pursue, I was
equally unable to guess. It was by
no means impossible that they
might tread upon my footsteps, and
knock, in a few minutes, at the
door of this cottage. It behoved
me to make all the preparation in

―30―

my power against untoward inci-
dents.

I had not parted with the gun
which I had first seized in the ca-
vern, nor with the hatchet which I
had afterwards used to cut the bands
of the girl. These were, at once,
my trophies and my means of de-
fence, which it had been rash and
absurd to have relinquished. My
present reliance was placed upon
these.

I now, for the first time, examined
the prize that I had made. Other
considerations had prevented me,
till now, from examining the struc-
ture of the piece, but I could not
but observe that it had two barrels,
and was lighter and smaller than an
ordinary musquet. The light of
the fire now enabled me to inspect
it with more accuracy.

Scarcely had I fixed my eyes up-
on the stock, when I perceived
marks that were familiar to my ap-
prehension. Shape, ornaments, and
cyphers, were evidently the same
with those of a piece which I had
frequently handled. It was pollut-
ed with rust, and had received va-
rious bruises, but the marks were
of a kind which could not be mis-
taken. This piece was mine; and
when I left my uncle's house, it
was deposited, as I believed, in the
closet of my chamber.

Thou wilt easily conceive the
inference which this circumstance
suggested. My hairs rose and my
teeth chattered with horror. My
whole frame was petrified, and I
paced to and fro, hurried from the
chimney to the door, and from the
door to the chimney, with the mis-
guided fury of a maniac.

I needed no proof of my cala-
mity more incontestible than this.
My uncle and my sisters had been
murdered; the dwelling had been
pillaged, and this had been a part
of the plunder. Defenceless and
asleep, they were assailed by these
inexorable enemies, and I, who
ought to have been their protector
and champion, was removed to an
immeasurable distance, and was
disabled, by some accursed chance,
from affording them the succour
which they needed.

For a time, I doubted whether I
had not witnessed and shared this
catastrophe. I had no memory of
the circumstances that preceded my
awaking in the pit. Had not the
cause of my being cast into this
abyss some connection with the
ruin of my family? Had I not been
dragged hither by these savages, and
reduced, by their malice, to that
breathless and insensible condition?
Was I born to a malignant destiny
never tired of persecuting? Thus
had my parents and their infant off-
spring perished, and thus complet-
ed was the fate of all those to whom
my affections cleaved, and whom
the first disaster had spared.

Hitherto the death of the savage
whom I had dispatched with my
hatchet had not been remembered
without some remorse. Now my
emotions were totally changed: I
was somewhat comforted in think-
ing that thus much of necessary
vengeance had been executed. New
and more vehement regrets were ex-
cited by reflecting on the forbear-
ance I had practised when so much
was in my power. All the mis-
creants had been at my mercy, and
a bloody retribution might, with
safety and ease, have been inflicted
on their prostrate bodies.

It was now too late. What of
consolation or of hope remained to
me? To return to my ancient dwel-
ling, now polluted with blood, or,
perhaps, nothing but a smoking
ruin, was abhorred. Life, con-
nected with remembrances of my
misfortunes, was detestable. I was
no longer anxious for flight. No
change of the scene but that which
terminated all consciousness, could
I endure to think of.

Amidst these gloomy meditations,

―31―

the idea was suddenly suggested of
returning, with the utmost expedi-
tion, to the cavern. It was possible
that the assassins were still asleep.
He who was appointed to watch,
and to make, in due season, the sig-
nal for resuming their march, was
forever silent. Without this signal
it was not unlikely that they would
sleep till the dawn of the day. But
if they should be roused, they might
be overtaken or met, and by choos-
ing a proper station, two victims
might at least fall. The ultimate
event to myself would surely be
fatal; but my own death was an ob-
ject of desire rather than of dread.
To die thus speedily, and after
some atonement was made for those
who had already been slain, was
sweet.

The way to the mountain was
difficult and tedious, but the ridge
was distinctly seen from the door of
the cottage, and I trusted that au-
spicius chance would lead me to
that part of it where my prey was to
be found. I snatched up the gun
and tomahawk in a transport of
eagerness. On examining the for-
mer, I found that both barrels were
deeply loaded.

This piece was of extraordinary
workmanship. It was the legacy
of an English officer, who died in
Bengal, to Sarsefield. It was con-
structed for the purposes not of
sport but of war The artist had
made it a congeries of tubes and
springs, by which every purpose
of protection and offence was ef-
fectually served. A dagger's blade
was attached to it, capable of being
mixed at the end, and of answering
the destructive purpose of a bayonet.
On his departure from Solebury,
my friend left it, as a pledge of his
affection, in my possession. Hi-
therto I had chiefly employed it in
shooting at a mark, in order to im-
prove my sight; now was I to pro-
fit by the gift in a different way.

Thus armed, I prepared to sally

forth on my adventurous expedi-
tion. Sober views might have
speedily succeeded to the present
tempest of my passions. I might
have gradually discovered the ro-
mantic and criminal temerity of
my project, the folly of revenge,
and the duty of preserving my life
for the benefit of mankind. I
might have suspected the propriety
of my conclusion, and have admit-
ed some doubts as to the catastro-
phe which I imagined to have be-
fallen my uncle and sisters. I
might, at least, have consented to
ascertain their condition with my
own eyes; and, for this end, have
returned to the cottage, and have
patiently waited till the morning
light should permit me to resume
my journey.

This conduct was precluded by
a new incident. Before I opened
the door, I looked through a cre-
vice of the wall, and perceived three
human figures at the farther end of
the field. They approached the
house. Though indistinctly seen,
something in their port persuaded
me that these were the Indians
from whom I had lately parted. I
was startled but not dismayed. My
thirst of vengeance was still power-
ful, and I believed that the mo-
ment of its gratification was hasten-
ing. In a short time they would
arrive and enter the house. In
what manner should they be re-
ceived?

I studied not my own security.
It was the scope of my wishes to
kill the whole number of my foes;
but that being done, I was indiffer-
ent to the consequences. I desired
not to live to relate or to exult in
the deed.

To go forth was perilous and
useless. All that remained was to
sit upon the ground opposite the
door, and fire at each as he entered.
In the hasty survey I had taken of
this apartment, one object had been
overlooked, or imperfectly noticed.

―32―

Close to the chimney was an aper-
ture, partly formed by a cavity in
the wall and in the ground. It
was the entrance of an oven, which
resembled, on the outside, a mound
of earth, and which was filled with
dry stalks of potatoes and other
rubbish.

Into this it was possible to thrust
my body. A sort of screen might
be formed of the brush-wood, and
more deliberate and effectual exe-
cution be done upon the enemy.
I weighed not the disadvantages of
this scheme, but precipitately threw
myself into this cavity. I dis-
covered, in an instant, that it was
totally unfit for my purpose, but it
was too late to repair my miscar-
riage.

This wall of the hovel was placed
near the verge of a sand-bank. The
oven was erected on the very brink.
This bank being of a loose and
mutable soil, could not sustain my
weight. It sunk, and I sunk along
with it. The height of the bank
was three or four feet, so that, though
disconcerted and embarrassed, I re-
ceived no injury. I still grasped
my gun, and resumed my feet in a
moment.

What was now to be done? The
bank screened me from the view
of the savages. The thicket was
hard by, and, if I were eager to es-
cape, the way was obvious and
sure. But though single, though
enfeebled by toil, by abstinence and
by disease, and though so much
exceeded in numbers and strength
by my foes, I was determined to
await and provoke the contest.

In addition to the desperate im-
pulse of passion, I was swayed by
thoughts of the danger which beset
the sleeping girl, and from which
my flight would leave her without
protection. How strange is the
destiny that governs mankind! The
consequence of shrouding myself
in this cavity had not been fore-
seen. It was an expedient which

courage, and not cowardice, sug-
gested; and yet it was the only ex-
pedient by which flight had been
rendered practicable. To have is-
sued from the door would only
have been to confront, and not to
elude the danger.

The first impulse prompted me
to re-enter the cottage by this
avenue, but this could not be done
with certainty and expedition.
What then remained? While I
deliberated, the men approached,
and, after a moment's hesitation, en-
tered the house, the door being
partly open.

The fire on the hearth enabled
them to survey the room. One
of them uttered a sudden exclama-
tion of surprize. This was easily
interpreted. They had noticed the
girl who had lately been their cap-
tive, lying asleep on the blanket.
Their astonishment at finding her
here, and in this condition, may
be easily conceived.

I now reflected that I might
place myself, without being ob-
served, near the entrance, at an
angle of the building, and shoot at
each as he successively came forth.
I perceived that the bank conform-
ed to two sides of the house, and
that I might gain a view of the
front and of the entrance, without
exposing myself to observation.

I lost no time in gaining this
station. The bank was high as
my breast. It was easy, therefore,
to crouch beneath it, to bring my
eye close to the verge, and laying
my gun upon the top of it, among
the grass, with its muzzles pointed
to the door, patiently to wait their
forth-coming.

My eye and my ear were equally
attentive to what was passing. A
low and muttering conversation was
maintained in the house. Presently
I heard an heavy stroke descend.
I shuddered, and my blood ran cold
at the sound. I entertained no
doubt but that it was the stroke of

―33―

an hatchet on the head or breast of
the helpless sleeper.

It was followed by a loud shriek.
The continuance of these shrieks
proved that the stroke had not been
instantly fatal. I waited to hear it re-
peated, but the sounds that now arose
were like those produced by drag-
ging somewhat along the ground.
The shrieks, meanwhile, were in-
cessant and piteous. My heart fal-
tered, and I saw that mighty ef-
forts must be made to preserve my
joints and my nerves steadfast. All
depended on the strenuous exer-
tions and the fortunate dexterity of
a moment.

One now approached the door,
and came forth, dragging the girl,
whom he held by the hair, after
him. What hindered me from
shooting at his first appearance, I
know not. This had been my
previous resolution. My hand
touched the trigger, and as he mov-
ed, the piece was levelled at his
right ear. Perhaps the momentous
consequences of my failure, made
me wait till his ceasing to move
might render my aim more sure.

Having dragged the girl, still pi-
teously shrieking, to the distance of
ten feet from the house, he threw
her from him with violence. She
fell upon the ground, and observ-
ing him level his piece at her breast,
renewed her supplications in a still
more piercing tone. Little did the
forlorn wretch think that her de-
liverance was certain and near. I
rebuked myself for having thus
long delayed. I fired, and my ene-
my sunk upon the ground without
a struggle.

Thus far had success attended
me in this unequal contest. The
next shot would leave me nearly
powerless. If that, however, prov-
ed as unerring as the first, the chan-
ces of defeat were lessened. The
savages within, knowing the in-
tentions of their associate with re-
gard to the captive girl, would pro-

bably mistake the report which they
heard for that of his piece. Their
mistake, however, would speedily
give place to doubts, and they
would rush forth to ascertain the
truth. It behoved me to provide a
similar reception for him that next
appeared.

It was as I expected. Scarcely
was my eye again fixed upon the
entrance, when a tawny and terri-
fic visage was stretched fearfully
forth. It was the signal of his fate.
His glances cast wildly and swiftly
round, lighted upon me, and on
the fatal instrument which was
pointed at his forehead. His mus-
cles were at once exerted to with-
draw his head, and to vociferate a
warning to his fellow, but his
movement was too slow. He tum-
bled headlong to the ground, be-
reaved of sensation, though not of
life, and had power only to strug-
gle and mutter.

Think not that I relate these
things with exultation or tranquilli-
ty. All my education and the habits
of my life tended to unfit me for a
contest and a scene like this. I
was not governed by the soul which
usually regulates my conduct. I
had imbibed from the unparalleled
events which had lately happened
a spirit, vengeful, unrelenting, and
ferocious.

There was now an interval for
flight. Throwing my weapons
away, I might gain the thicket in a
moment. I had no ammunition,
nor would time be afforded me to
re-load my piece. My antagonist
would render my poniard and my
speed of no use to me. Should he
miss me as I fled, the girl would
remain to expiate by her agonies
and death, the fate of his com-
panions.

These thoughts passed through
my mind in a shorter time than is
demanded to express them. They
yielded to an expedient suggested
by the sight of the gun that had

―34―

been raised to destroy the girl, and
which now lay upon the ground.
I am not large of bone, but am not
deficient in agility and strength.
All that remained to me of these
qualities was now exerted; and,
dropping my own piece, I leaped
upon the bank, and flew to seize
my prize.

It was not till I snatched it from
the ground, that the propriety of
regaining my former post, rushed
upon my apprehension. He that
was still posted in the hovel would
mark me through the seams of the
wall, and render my destruction
sure. I once more ran towards the
bank, with the intention to throw
myself below it. All this was per-
formed in an instant; but my vigi-
lant foe was aware of his advantage,
and fired through an opening be-
tween the logs. The bullet grazed
my cheek, and produced a be-
numbing sensation that made me
instantly fall to the earth. Though
bereaved of strength, and fraught
with the belief that I had received
a mortal wound, my caution was
not remitted. I loosened not my
grasp of the gun, and the posture
into which I accidentally fell en-
abled me to keep an eye upon the
house and an hand upon the trigger.
Perceiving my condition, the savage
rushed from his covert in order to
complete his work; but, at three
steps from the threshold, he re-
ceived my bullet in his breast. The
uplifted tomahawk fell from his
hand, and, uttering a loud shriek,
he fell upon the body of his com-
panion. His cries struck upon my
heart, and I wished that his better
fortune had cast this evil from him
upon me.

Thus I have told thee a bloody
and disastrous tale. When thou
reflectest on the mildness of my
habits, my antipathy to scenes of
violence and bloodshed, my un-
acquaintance with the use of fire-
arms, and the motives of a soldier,

thou wilt scarcely allow credit to
my story. That one rushing into
these dangers; unfurnished with
stratagems or weapons, dishearten-
ed and enfeebled by hardship and
pain, should subdue four antago-
nists, trained from their infancy to
the artifices and exertions of Indian
warfare, will seem the vision of
fancy, rather than the lesson of truth.

I lifted my head from the ground
and pondered upon this scene. The
magnitude of this exploit made me
question its reality. By attending
to my own sensations, I discovered
that I had received no wound, or,
at least, none of which there was
reason to complain. The blood
flowed plentifully from my cheek,
but the injury was superficial. It
was otherwise with my antagonists.
The last that had fallen now ceased
to groan. Their huge limbs, in-
ured to combat and war-worn,
were useless to their own defence,
and to the injury of others.

The destruction that I witnessed
was vast. Three beings, full of
energy and heroism, endowed with
minds strenuous and lofty, poured
out their lives before me. I was
the instrument of their destruction.
This scene of carnage and blood
was laid by me. To this havock
and horror was I led by such rapid
footsteps!

My anguish was mingled with
astonishment. In spite of the force
and uniformity with which my
senses were impressed by external
objects, the transition I had under-
gone was so wild and inexplicable;
all that I had performed; all that I
had witnessed since my egress from
the pit, were so contradictory to
precedent events, that I still clung
to the belief that my thoughts were
confused by delirium. From these
reveries I was at length recalled by
the groans of the girl, who lay near
me on the ground.

I went to her and endeavoured
to console her. I found that while

―35―

lying in the bed, she had received
a blow upon the side, which was
still productive of acute pain. She
was unable to rise or to walk, and it
was plain that one or more of her
ribs had been fractured by the blow.

I knew not what means to de-
vise for our mutual relief. It was
possible that the nearest dwelling
was many leagues distant. I knew
not in what direction to go in order
to find it, and my strength would
not suffice to carry my wounded
companion thither in my arms.
There was no expedient but to re-
main in this field of blood till the
morning.

I had scarcely formed this reso-
lution before the report of a mus-
quet was heard at a small distance.
At the same moment, I distinctly
heard the whistling of a bullet near
me. I now remembered that of
the five Indians whom I saw in the
cavern, I was acquainted with the
destiny only of four. The fifth
might be still alive, and fortune
might reserve for him the task of
avenging his companions. His
steps might now be tending hither
in search of them.

The musquet belonging to him
who was shot upon the threshold,
was still charged. It was discreet
to make all the provision in my
power against danger. I possessed
myself of this gun, and seating my-
self on the ground, looked careful-
ly on all sides, to descry the ap-
proach of the enemy. I listened
with breathless eagerness.

Presently voices were heard.
They ascended from that part of
the thicket from which my view
was intercepted by the cottage.
These voices had something in them
that bespoke them to belong to
friends and countrymen. As yet I
was unable to distinguish words.

Presently my eye was attracted to
one quarter, by a sound as of feet
trampling down bushes. Several
heads were seen moving in succes-

sion, and, at length, the whole
person was conspicuous. One af-
ter another leaped over a kind of
mound which bordered the field,
and made towards the spot where I
sat. This band was composed of
ten or twelve persons, with each a
gun upon his shoulder. Their
guise, the moment it was perceived,
dissipated all my apprehensions.

They came within the distance
of a few paces before they discover-
ed me. One stopped, and bespeak-
ing the attention of his followers,
called to know who was there? I
answered that I was a friend, who
intreated their assistance. I shall
not paint their astonishment when,
on coming nearer, they beheld me
surrounded by the arms and dead
bodies of my enemies.

I sat upon the ground, support-
ing my head with my left hand,
and resting on my knee the stock
of an heavy musquet. My coun-
tenance was wan and haggard, my
neck and bosom were died in blood,
and my limbs, almost stripped by
the brambles of their slender co-
vering, were lacerated by a thou-
sand wounds. Three savages, two
of whom were steeped in gore, lay
at a small distance, with the traces
of recent life on their visages. Hard
by was the girl, venting her an-
guish in the deepest groans, and in-
treating relief from the new comers.

One of the company, on ap-
proaching the girl, betrayed the ut-
most perturbation. “Good God!”
he cried, “is this a dream? Can
it be you? Speak!”

“Ah, my father! my father!”
answered she, “it is I indeed.”

The company, attracted by this
dialogue, crowded round the girl,
whom her father, clasping her in
his arms, lifted from the ground,
and pressed, in a transport of
joy, to his breast. This delight
was succeeded by solicitude respect-
ing her condition. She could only
answer his inquiries by complain-

―36―

ing that her side was bruised to
pieces. How came you here?
Who hurt you? Where did the
Indians carry you?—were ques-
tions to which she could make no
reply but by sobs and plaints.

My own calamities were forgot-
ten in contemplating the fondness
and compassion of the man for his
child. I derived new joy from re-
flecting that I had not abandoned
her, and that she owed her preser-
vation to my efforts. The inqui-
ries which the girl was unable to
answer, were now put to me.
Every one interrogated who I was,
whence I had come, and what had
given rise to this bloody contest?

I was not willing to expatiate on
my story. The spirit which had
hitherto sustained me, began now
to subside. My strength ebbed
away with my blood. Tremors,
lassitude, and deadly cold, invaded
me, and I fainted on the ground.

Such is the capricious constitu-
tion of the human mind. While
dangers were at hand, while my
life was to be preserved only by
zeal, and vigilance, and courage, I
was not wanting to myself. Had
my perils continued or even mul-
tiplied, no doubt my energies would
have kept equal pace with them,
but the moment that I was encom-
passed by protectors, and placed in
security, I grew powerless and faint.
My weakness was proportioned to
the duration and intensity of my
previous efforts, and the swoon in-
to which I now sunk, was, no
doubt, mistaken by the spectators,
for death.

On recovering from this swoon,
my sensations were not unlike those
which I had experienced on awak-
ing in the pit. For a moment a
mistiness involved every object, and
I was able to distinguish nothing.
My sight, by rapid degrees, was
restored, my painful dizziness was
banished, and I surveyed the scene
before me with anxiety and wonder.

I found myself stretched upon
the ground. I perceived the cot-
tage and the neighbouring thicket,
illuminated by a declining moon.
My head rested upon something,
which, on turning to examine, I
found to be one of the slain Indians.
The other two remained upon the
earth at a small distance, and in the
attitudes in which they had fallen.
Their arms, the wounded girl, and
the troop who were near me when
I fainted, were gone.

My head had reposed upon the
breast of him whom I had shot in
this part of his body. The blood
had ceased to ooze from the wound,
but my dishevelled locks were mat-
ted and steeped in that gore which
had overflowed and choaked up the
orifice. I started from this detest-
able pillow, and regained my feet.

I did not suddenly recall what
had lately passed, or comprehend
the nature of my situation. At
length, however, late events were
recollected.

That I should be abandoned in
this forlorn state by these men,
seemed to argue a degree of cow-
ardice or cruelty, of which I should
have thought them incapable. Pre-
sently, however, I reflected that
appearances might have easily mis-
led them into a belief of my death:
on this supposition, to have carried
me away, or to have stayed beside
me, would be useless. Other ene-
mies might be abroad, or their
families, now that their fears were
somewhat realized, might require
their presence and protection.

I went into the cottage. The
fire still burned, and afforded me a
genial warmth. I sat before it and
began to ruminate on the state to
which I was reduced, and on the
measures I should next pursue.
Day-light could not be very distant.
Should I remain in this hovel till
the morning, or immediately re-
sume my journey? I was feeble,
indeed, but by remaining here

―37―

should I not increase my feeble-
ness? The sooner I should gain
some human habitation the better;
whereas watchfulness and hunger
would render me, at each minute,
less able to proceed than on the for-
mer.

This spot might be visited on the
next day; but this was involved in
uncertainty. The visitants, should
any come, would come merely to
examine and bury the dead, and
bring with them neither the cloath-
ing nor the food which my necessi-
ties demanded. The road was suf-
ficiently discernible, and would,
unavoidably, conduct me to some
dwelling. I determined, therefore,
to set out without delay. Even in
this state I was not unmindful that
my safety might require the precau-
tion of being armed. Besides, the
fusil which had been given me by
Sarsefield, and which I had so un-
expectedly recovered, had lost none
of its value in my eyes. I hoped
that it had escaped the search of the
troop who had been here, and still
lay below the bank, in the spot
where I had dropped it.

In this hope I was not deceived.
It was found. I possessed myself
of the powder and shot belonging
to one of the savages, and loaded it.
Thus equipped for defence, I re-
gained the road, and proceeded,
with alacrity, on my way. For the
wound in my cheek, nature had
provided a styptic; but the soreness
was extreme, and I thought of no
remedy but water, with which I
might wash away the blood. My
thirst likewise incommoded me,
and I looked with eagerness for the
traces of a spring. In a soil like
that of the wilderness around me,
nothing was less to be expected than
to light upon water. In this re-
spect, however, my destiny was
propitious. I quickly perceived
water in the ruts. It trickled hither
from the thicket on one side, and pur-
suing it among the bushes, I reach-

ed the bubbling source. Though
scanty and brackish, it afforded me
unspeakable refreshment.

Thou wilt think, perhaps, that
my perils were now at an end; that
the blood I had already shed was
sufficient for my safety. I fervently
hoped that no new exigence would
occur, compelling me to use the
arms that I bore in my own de-
fence. I formed a sort of resolu-
tion to shun the contest with a new
enemy, almost at the expence of
my own life. I was satiated and
gorged with slaughter, and thought
upon a new act of destruction with
abhorrence and loathing.

But though I dreaded to encoun-
ter a new enemy, I was sensible
that an enemy might possibly be at
hand. I had moved forward with
caution, and my sight and hearing
were attentive to the slightest tokens.
Other troops besides that which I
encountered, might be hovering
near, and, of that troop, I remem-
bered that one at least had survived.

The gratification which this
spring had afforded me was so
great that I was in no haste to de-
part. I lay upon a rock, which
chanced to be shaded by a tree be-
hind me. From this post I could
overlook the road to some distance,
and, at the same time, be shaded
from the observation of others.

My eye was now caught by
movements which appeared like
those of a beast. In different cir-
cumstances, I should have instantly
supposed it to be a wolf, or panther,
or bear. Now my suspicions were
alive on a different account, and my
startled fancy figured to itself no-
thing but an human adversary.

A thicket was on either side of
the road. That opposite to my
station was discontinued at a small
distance by the cultivated field.
The road continued along this
field, bounded by the thicket on
the one side, and the open space on
the other. To this space the be-

―38―

ing who was now descried was
cautiously approaching.

He moved upon all fours, and
presently came near enough to be
distinguished. His disfigured limbs,
pendants from his ears and nose,
and his shorn locks, were indu-
bitable indications of a savage.
Occasionally he reared himself
above the bushes, and scanned,
with suspicious vigilance, the cot-
tage and the space surrounding it.
Then he stooped, and crept along
as before.

I was at no loss to interpret these
appearances. This was my sur-
viving enemy. He was unac-
quainted with the fate of his asso-
ciates, and was now approaching
the theatre of carnage, to ascertain
their fate.

Once more was the advantage af-
forded me. From this spot might
unerring aim be taken, and the last
of this hostile troop be made to
share the fate of the rest. Should I
fire or suffer him to pass in safety?

My abhorrence of bloodshed
was not abated. But I had not
foreseen this occurrence. My suc-
cess hitherto had seemed to depend
upon a combination of fortunate
incidents, which could not be ex-
pected again to take place; but now
was I invested with the same power.
The mark was near; nothing ob-
structed or delayed; I incurred no
danger, and the event was certain.

Why should he be suffered to
live? He came hither to murder
and despoil my friends: this work
he has, no doubt, performed. Nay,
has he not borne his part in the de-
struction of my uncle and my sis-
ters? He will live only to pursue
the same sanguinary trade; to drink
the blood and exult in the laments
of his unhappy foes, and of my
own brethren. Fate has reserved
him for a bloody and violent death.
For how long a time soever it may
be deferred, it is thus that his ca-
reer will inevitably terminate.

Should he be spared, he will still
roam in the wilderness, and I may
again be fated to encounter him.
Then our mutual situation may be
widely different, and the advantage
I now possess may be his.

While hastily revolving these
thoughts I was thoroughly aware
that one event might take place
which would render all delibera-
tion useless. Should he spy me
where I lay, my fluctuations must
end. My safety would indispen-
sably require me to shoot. This
persuasion made me keep a stead-
fast eye upon his motions, and be
prepared to anticipate his assault.

It now most seasonably occurred
to me that one essential duty re-
mained to be performed. One
operation, without which fire arms
are useless, had been unaccountably
omitted. My piece was uncocked,
I did not reflect that in moving the
spring, a sound would necessarily
be produced, sufficient to alarm
him. But I knew that the chances
of escaping his notice, should I be
perfectly mute and still, were ex-
tremely slender, and that, in such a
case, his movements would be
quicker than the light: it behoved
me, therefore, to repair my omis-
sion.

The sound struck him with
alarm. He turned and darted at
me an inquiring glance. I saw
that forbearance was no longer in
my power; but my heart sunk
while I complied with what may
surely be deemed an indispensa-
ble necessity. This faltering, per-
haps it was, that made me swerve
somewhat from the fatal line. He
was disabled by the wound, but not
killed.

He lost all power of resistance,
and was, therefore, no longer to
be dreaded. He rolled upon the
ground, uttering doleful shrieks,
and throwing his limbs into those
contorsions which bespeak the
keenest agonies to which ill-fated

―39―

man is subject. Horror, and com-
passion, and remorse, were mingled
into one sentiment, and took pos-
session of my heart. To shut out
this spectacle, I withdrew from the
spot, but I stopped before I had
moved beyond hearing of his cries.

The impulse that drove me from
the scene was pusillanimous and
cowardly. The past, however de-
plorable, could not be recalled;
but could not I afford some relief to
this wretch? Could not I, at least,
bring his pangs to a speedy close?
Thus he might continue, writhing
and calling upon death for hours.
Why should his miseries be use-
lessly prolonged?

There was but one way to end
them. To kill him outright, was
the dictate of compassion and of
duty. I hastily returned, and once
more levelled my piece at his head.
It was a loathsome obligation, and
was performed with unconquerable
reluctance. Thus to assault and to
mangle the body of an enemy, al-
ready prostrate and powerless, was
an act worthy of abhorrence; yet it
was, in this case, prescribed by
pity.

My faltering hand rendered this
second bullet ineffectual. One ex-
pedient, still more detestable, re-
mained. Having gone thus far, it
would have been inhuman to stop
short. His heart might easily be
pierced by the bayonet, and his
struggles would cease.

This task of cruel lenity was
at length finished. I dropped the
weapon and threw myself on the
ground, overpowered by the hor-
rors of this scene. Such are the
deeds which perverse nature com-
pels thousands of rational beings to
perform and to witness! Such is
the spectacle, endlessly prolonged
and diversified, which is exhibited
in every field of battle; of which,
habit and example, the temptations
of gain, and the illusions of honour,
will make us, not reluctant or in-

different, but zealous and delight-
ed actors and beholders!

Thus, by a series of events im-
possible to be computed or foreseen,
was the destruction of a band, se-
lected from their fellows for an ar-
duous enterprize, distinguished by
prowess and skill, and equally armed
against surprize and force, completed
by the hand of a boy, uninured to
hostility, unprovided with arms, pre-
cipitate and timorous! I have noted
men who seemed born for no end
but by their atchievements to belie
experience and baffle foresight, and
outstrip belief. Would to God that
I had not deserved to be numbered
among these!

While engaged in these reflec-
tions, I perceived that the moon-
light had began to fade before that
of the sun. A dusky and reddish
hue spread itself over the east.
Cheered by this appearance, I once
more resumed my feet and the road.
I left the savage where he lay, but
made prize of his tomahawk. I had
left my own in the cavern: and this
weapon added little to my burthen.
Prompted by some freak of fancy,
I stuck his musquet in the ground,
and left it standing upright in the
middle of the road.

I moved forward with as quick a
pace as my feeble limbs would per-
mit. I did not allow myself to me-
ditate. The great object of my
wishes was a dwelling where food
and repose might be procured. I
looked earnestly forward, and on
each side, in search of some token of
human residence; but the spots of
cultivation, the worm-fence, and the
hay-rick, were no where to be seen.
I did not even meet with a wild
hog, or a bewildered cow. The
path was narrow, and on either side
was a trackless wilderness. On the
right and left were the waving lines
of mountainous ridges which had no
peculiarity enabling me to ascertain
whether I had ever before seen
them.

―40―

At length I noticed that the
tracks of wheels had disappeared
from the path that I was treading;
that it became more narrow, and
exhibited fewer marks of being fre-
quented. These appearances were
discouraging. I now suspected that
I had taken a wrong direction, and
instead of approaching, was reced-
ing from the habitation of men.

It was wisest, however, to pro-
ceed. The road could not but have
some origin as well as end. Some
hours passed away in this uncertain-
ty. The sun rose, and by noon-day
I seemed to be farther than ever
from the end of my toils. The
path was more obscure, and the
wilderness more rugged. Thirst
more incommoded me than hun-
ger, but relief was seasonably af-
forded by the brooks that flowed
across the path.

Coming to one of these, and hav-
ing slaked my thirst, I sat down
upon the bank, to reflect on my
situation. The circuity of the path
had frequently been noticed, and I
began to suspect that though I had
travelled long, I had not moved far
from the spot where I had com-
menced my pilgrimage.

Turning my eyes on all sides, I
noticed a sort of pool, formed by
the rivulet, at a few paces distant
from the road. In approaching and
inspecting it, I observed the foot-
steps of cattle, who had retired by
a path that seemed much beaten; I
likewise noticed a cedar bucket,
broken and old, lying on the mar-
gin. These tokens revived my
drooping spirits, and I betook my-
self to this new track. It was in-
tricate; but, at length, led up a steep,
the summit of which was of better
soil than that of which the flats con-
sisted. A clover field, and several
apple-trees, sure attendants of man,
were now discovered. From this
space I entered a corn-field, and at
length, to my inexpressible joy,
caught a glimpse of an house.

This dwelling was far different
from that I had lately left. It was
as small and as low, but its walls
consisted of boards. A window of
four panes admitted the light, and
a chimney, of brick well burnt, and
neatly arranged, peeped over the
roof. As I approached I heard the
voice of children, and the hum of
a spinning-wheel.

I cannot make thee conceive the
delight which was afforded me by
all these tokens. I now found my-
self, indeed, among beings like my-
self, and from whom hospitable en-
tertainment might be confidently ex-
pected. I compassed the house, and
made my appearance at the door.

A good woman, busy at her wheel,
with two children playing on the
ground before her, were the objects
that now presented themselves. The
uncouthness of my garb, my wild
and weather-worn appearance, my
fusil and tomahawk, could not but
startle them. The woman stopt her
wheel, and gazed as if a spectre had
started into view.

I was somewhat aware of these
consequences, and endeavoured to
elude them, by assuming an air of
supplication and humility. I told
her that I was a traveller, who had
unfortunately lost his way, and had
rambled in this wild till nearly fa-
mished for want. I intreated her
to give me some food; any thing,
however scanty or coarse, would be
acceptable.

After some pause she desired me,
though not without some marks of
fear, to walk in. She placed before
me some brown bread and milk.
She eyed me while I eagerly devour-
ed this morsel. It was, indeed, more
delicious than any I had ever tasted.
At length she broke silence, and ex-
pressed her astonishment and com-
miseration at my seemingly forlorn
state, adding, that perhaps I was the
man whom the men were looking
after who had been there some hours
before.

―41―

My curiosity was roused by this
intimation. In answer to my inter-
rogations, she said, that three per-
sons had lately stopped, to inquire
if her husband had not met, within
the last three days, a person of whom
their description seemed pretty much
to suit my person and dress. He
was tall, slender, wore nothing but
shirt and trowsers, and was wound-
ed on the cheek.

What, I asked, did they state the
rank or condition of the person to
be?

He lived in Solebury. He was
supposed to have rambled in the
mountains, and to have lost his way,
or to have met with some mis-
chance. It was three days since
he had disappeared, but had been
seen, by some one, the last night,
at Deb's hut.

What and where was Deb's hut?

It was a hut in the wilderness,
occupied by an old Indian woman,
known among her neighbours by
the name of Old Deb. Some peo-
ple called her Queen Mab. Her
dwelling was eight long miles from
this house.

A thousand questions were pre-
cluded, and a thousand doubts solv-
ed by this information. Queen Mab
were sounds familiar to my ears;
for they originated with myself.

This woman originally belonged
to the tribe of Delawares or Lenni-
lennapee. All these districts were
once comprised within the do-
minions of that nation. About
thirty years ago, in consequence of
perpetual encroachments of the
English colonists, they abandoned
their ancient seats and retired to the
banks of the Wabash and Muskin-
gum.

This emigration was concerted
in a general council of the tribe,
and obtained the concurrence of all
out one female. Her birth, talents,
and age, gave her much consider-
ation and authority among her
countrymen; and all her zeal and

eloquence were exerted to induce
them to lay aside their scheme. In
this, however, she could not suc-
ceed. Finding them refractory,
she declared her resolution to re-
main behind, and maintain posses-
sion of the land which her country-
men should impiously abandon.

The village inhabited by this
clan was built upon ground which
now constitutes my uncle's barn
yard and orchard. On the depar-
ture of her countrymen, this female
burnt the empty wigwams and re-
tired into the fastnesses of Norwalk.
She selected a spot suitable for an
Indian dwelling and a small plan-
tation of maize, and in which she
was seldom liable to interruption
and intrusion.

Her only companions were three
dogs, of the Indian or wolf species.
These animals differed in nothing
from their kinsmen of the forest,
but in their attachment and obedi-
ence to their mistress. She govern-
ed them with absolute sway: they
were her servants and protectors,
and attended her person or guarded
her threshold, agreeably to her di-
rections. She fed them with corn
and they supplied her and them-
selves with meat, by hunting squir-
rels, racoons, and hares.

To the rest of mankind they
were aliens or enemies. They ne-
ver left the desert but in company
with their mistress, and when she
entered a farm-house, waited her
return at a distance. They would
suffer none to approach them, but
attacked no one who did not im-
prudently crave their acquaintance,
or who kept at a respectful distance
from their wigwam. That sacred
asylum they would not suffer to be
violated, and no stranger could en-
ter it but at the imminent hazard
of his life, unless accompanied and
protected by their dame.

The chief employment of this
woman, when at home, besides
hoeing and grinding her corn and

―42―

setting her snares, was to talk.
Though in solitude, her tongue
was never at rest but when she was
asleep; but her conversation was
merely addressed to her dogs. Her
voice was sharp and shrill, and her
gesticulations were vehement and
grotesque. An hearer would na-
turally imagine that she was scold-
ing; but, in truth, she was merely
giving them directions. Having
no other object of contemplation
or subject of discourse, she always
found, in their postures and look,
occasions for praise, or blame, or
command. The readiness with
which they understood, and the do-
cility with which they obeyed her
movements and words, were truly
wonderful.

If a stranger chanced to wander
near her hut, and overheard her jar-
gon, incessant as it was, and shrill,
he might speculate in vain on the
reason of these sounds. If he wait-
ed in expectation of hearing some
reply, he waited in vain. The
strain, always voluble and sharp,
was never intermitted for a mo-
ment, and would continue for
hours at a time.

She seldom left the hut but to
visit the neighbouring inhabitants,
and demand from them food and
cloathing, or whatever her necessi-
ties required. These were exacted
as her due: to have her wants sup-
plied was her prerogative, and to
withhold what she claimed was re-
bellion. She conceived that by re-
maining behind her countrymen she
succeeded to the government, and
retained the possession of all this
region. The English were merely
aliens and sojourners, who occu-
pied the land merely by her conni-
vance and permission, and whom
she allowed to remain on no terms
but those of supplying her wants.

Being a woman aged and harm-
less, her demands being limited to
that of which she really stood in
need, and which her own industry

could not procure, her pretensions
were a subject of mirth and good
humour, and her injunctions obey-
ed with seeming deference and
gravity. To me she early became
an object of curiosity and specula-
tion. I delighted to observe her
habits and humour her prejudices.
She frequently came to my uncle's
house, and I sometimes visited her;
but insensibly she seemed to con-
tract an affection for me, and re-
garded me with more complacency
and condescension than any other
received.

She always disdained to speak
English, and custom had rendered
her intelligible to most in her na-
tive language, with regard to a few
simple questions. I had taken
some pains to study her jargon, and
could make out to discourse with
her on the few ideas which she pos-
sessed. This circumstance, like-
wise, wonderfully prepossessed her
in my favour.

The name by which she was
formerly known was Deb; but her
pretensions to royalty, the wildness
of her aspect and garb, her shrivel-
led and diminutive form, a consti-
tution that seemed to defy the rava-
ges of time and the influence of
the elements; her age, which some
did not scruple to affirm exceeded
an hundred years, her romantic
solitude and mountainous haunts,
suggested to my fancy the appella-
tion of Queen Mab. There appear
ed to me some rude analogy be
tween this personage and her whom
the poets of old-time have delighted
to celebrate: thou perhaps wilt dis-
cover nothing but incongruities
between them, but, be that as it
may, Old Deb and Queen Mab
soon came into indiscriminate and
general use.

She dwelt in Norwalk upwards
of twenty years. She was not for-
gotten by her countrymen, and
generally received from her bro-
thers and sons an autumnal visit;

―43―

but no solicitations or entreaties
could prevail on her to return with
them. Two years ago, some sus-
picions or disgust induced her to
forsake her ancient habitation, and
to seek a new one. Happily she
found a more convenient habita-
tion twenty miles to the westward,
and in a spot abundantly sterile and
rude.

This dwelling was of logs, and
had been erected by a Scottish emi-
grant, who, not being rich enough
to purchase land, and entertaining a
passion for solitude and independ-
ence, cleared a field in the unap-
propriated wilderness, and subsisted
on its produce. After some time
he disappeared. Various conjec-
tures were formed as to the cause
of his absence. None of them
were satisfactory; but that which
obtained most credit was, that he
had been murdered by the Indians,
who, about the same period, paid
their annual visit to the Queen.
This conjecture acquired some
force, by observing that the old
woman shortly after took possession
of his hut, his implements of tillage,
and his corn-field.

She was not molested in her new
abode, and her life passed in the
same quiet tenour as before. Her
periodical rambles, her regal claims,
her guardian wolfs, and her un-
couth volubility, were equally re-
markable, but her circuits were
new. Her distance made her visit to
Solebury more rarely, and had pre-
vented me from ever extending my
pedestrian excursions to her present
abode.

These recollections were now
suddenly called up by the informa-
tion of my hostess. The hut where
I had sought shelter and relief was,
it seems, the residence of Queen
Mab. Some fortunate occurrence
had called her away during my
visit. Had she and her dogs been
at home, I should have been set
upon by these ferocious centinels,

and, before their dame could have
interfered, have been, together with
my helpless companion, mangled
or killed. These animals never
barked, I should have entered un-
aware of my danger, and my fate
could scarcely have been averted
by my fusil.

Her absence at this unseasonable
hour was mysterious. It was now
the time of year when her country-
men were accustomed to renew their
visit. Was there a league between
her and the plunderers whom I had
encountered?

But who were they by whom
my footsteps were so industriously
traced? Those whom I had seen
at Deb's hut were strangers to me,
but the wound upon my face was
known only to them. To this
circumstance was now added my
place of residence and name. I
supposed them impressed with the
belief that I was dead; but this mis-
take must have speedily been recti-
fied. Revisiting the spot, finding
me gone, and obtaining some in-
telligence of my former condition,
they had instituted a search after me.

But what tidings were these? I
was supposed to have been bewil-
dered in the mountains, and three
days were said to have passed since
my disappearance. Twelve hours
had scarcely elapsed since I emerg-
ed from the cavern. Had two
days and an half been consumed in
my subterranean prison?

These reflections were quickly
supplanted by others. I now gain-
ed a sufficient acquaintance with
the region that was spread around
me. I was in the midst of a vale,
included between ridges that gradu-
ally approached each other, and,
when joined, were broken up into
hollows and steeps, and spreading
themselves over a circular space,
assumed the appellation of Nor-
walk. This vale gradually widen-
ed as it tended to the westward, and
was, in this place, ten or twelve

―44―

miles in breadth. My devious
footsteps had brought me to the
foot of the southern barrier. The
outer basis of this was laved by the
river, but, as it tended eastward,
the mountain and river receded
from each other, and one of the
culturable districts lying between
them was Solebury, my natal town-
ship. Hither it was now my duty
to return with the utmost expedi-
tion.

There were two ways before me.
One lay along the interior base of
the hill, over a sterile and trackless
space, and exposed to the encoun-
ter of savages, some of whom might
possibly be lurking here. The
other was the well frequented road,
on the outside and along the river,
and which was to be gained by
passing over this hill. The prac-
ticability of the passage was to be
ascertained by inquiries made to
my hostess. She pointed out a
path that led to the rocky summit
and down to the river's brink.
The path was not easy to be kept
in view or to be trodden, but it was
undoubtedly to be preferred to any
other.

A route, somewhat circuitous,
would terminate in the river road.
Thenceforward the way to Solebu-
ry was level and direct; but the
whole space which I had to traverse
was not less than thirty miles. In
six hours it would be night, and, to
perform the journey in that time
would demand the agile boundings
and the indefatigable sinews of an
elk.

My frame was in a miserable
plight. My strength had been as-
sailed by anguish, and fear, and

watchfulness; by toil, and absti-
nence, and wounds. Still, how-
ever, some remnant was left; would
it not enable me to reach my home
by night-fall? I had delighted,
from my childhood, in feats of
agility and perseverance. In roving
through the maze of thickets and
precipices, I had put my energies,
both moral and physical, frequently
to the test. Greater atchievements
than this had been performed, and
I disdained to be out-done in per-
spicacity by the lynx, in his sure-
footed instinct by the roe, or in
patience under hardship, and con-
tention with fatigue, by the Mo-
hawk. I have ever aspired to
transcend the rest of animals in all
that is common to the rational and
brute, as well as in all by which
they are distinguished from each
other.

I likewise burned with impa-
tience to know the condition of my
family, to dissipate at once their
tormenting doubts and my own,
with regard to our mutual safety.
The evil that I feared had befallen
them was too enormous to allow
me to repose in suspence, and my
restlessness and ominous forebod-
ings would be more intolerable
than any hardship or toils to which
I could possibly be subject during
this journey.

I was much refreshed and invi-
gorated by the food that I had
taken, and by the rest of an hour.
With this stock of recruited force
I determined to scale the hill. Af-
ter receiving minute directions,
and returning many thanks for my
hospitable entertainment, I set out.