after a courageous struggle against the indians, the fugitives, as i have shown, were taken prisoners.
it was a singular scene, as the six whites, the men having their hands bound behind them, came out of the gloom of the wood, and, under the escort of more than a dozen seneca warriors, approached the camp-fire, where jake golcher, the tory, awaited them.
mr. brainerd, who walked close to fred godfrey, said, in a low voice,
"under heaven, my son, you are our only hope; if you see a chance, no matter how desperate, take it."
"i will," was the low answer; "i shall make a break before the last scene comes."
as the party emerged into the light thrown out by the burning wood, the chief interest of the captors seemed to center in habakkuk mcewen, for the reason, as the reader will recall, that he was partially disguised as an indian. the fact that such was the case had been noted, of course, by his captors, who seemed to be in some doubt as to the cause, but not until now did they gain a good view of him.
the place where the camp-fire was burning was a small natural clearing, with a fallen tree lying extended one side, so as to afford a seat for a score of persons, if they chose to use it.
the fugitives were brought up and arranged in front of the log, mr. brainerd standing first, mcewen second, fred godfrey third, while aunt peggy, maggie brainerd, and eva supported each other.
even the whites themselves looked at the eccentric new englander with some curiosity, for only the females had seen him by the light of day. his dress was of that mongrel character, worn alike by frontier indians and white scouts, while his face still retained the paint that had been daubed on it by his friend, miles away in the wilderness.
the little company were placed in the order named, standing so that the reflection of the firelight revealed every countenance with the distinctness of mid-day, when, as we have intimated, there was a general scrutiny of habakkuk, who stood the ordeal well.
he threw his shoulders back, and tried hard to look like an indian warrior, all unconscious of the curious eyes bent upon him.
the senecas were grouping themselves in front, when gray panther uttered an exclamation that drew attention to him. he had stumbled over the inanimate figure of the warrior whom he left to guard the colored prisoner for jake golcher.
at the same moment the tory himself rose from the farthest end of the log, bent over as though suffering great pain, while his face was pale as ashes. he said to the chief that it had all been caused by the negro, who was supposed to be helplessly lame, but was only feigning it. he developed into an animated pile-driver with such suddenness that the warrior who received his full attentions would never recover, and jake himself felt much doubt whether he should ever feel entirely well again.
such creatures as golcher are the most abject of cowards when in the presence of death, and while he lay on the ground, gasping for breath and certain that the blow received from the iron skull of the african had finished him, he became altogether a different man from what he had been during life.
he was repentant, and begged heaven not to punish him for his multitudinous sins. he pledged himself that if the little patriot band should fall into his hands he would release every one, and conduct them beyond the dangerous neighborhood.
alas, for human resolution! immediately after making the pledge he began to rally, and as he came back to his natural self his good intentions were scattered like thistle-down in the wind. by the time the captives were ranged along the log in front of him he was the same malignant tory that he had always been.
the discovery of the dead body of the indian caused some confusion among gray panther's band, and there was considerable lamentation, during which the prisoners were partly forgotten.
fred godfrey was watching like a cat for his chance, and twice he was on the point of making a break. had his hands been unfastened he would have done so, but he waited for what he hoped would be a more favorable opportunity.
a guard of two warriors took charge of their dead comrade, while the others again centered their gaze upon the new englander, who stood the scrutiny with the same assurance as before.
jake golcher, rising to his feet, came painfully down the line, and without paying any attention to the others, stopped in front of mcewen, whom he scrutinized a full minute, both standing motionless and looking squarely in each other's eyes, without uttering a syllable.
