anxious fears followed by a joyful surprise--safe home at last, andhappy hearts.
one fine afternoon, a few weeks after the storm ofwhich we have given an account in the lastchapter, old mrs. varley was seated beside her ownchimney corner in the little cottage by the lake, gazingat the glowing logs with the earnest expression of onewhose thoughts were far away. her kind face waspaler than usual, and her hands rested idly on her knee,grasping the knitting-wires to which was attached a half-finishedstocking.
on a stool near to her sat young marston, the lad towhom, on the day of the shooting-match, dick varleyhad given his old rifle. the boy had an anxious lookabout him, as he lifted his eyes from time to time to thewidow's face.
"did ye say, my boy, that they were all killed?"inquired mrs. varley, awaking from her reverie witha deep sigh.
"every one," replied marston. "jim scraggs, whobrought the news, said they wos all lying dead withtheir scalps off. they wos a party o' white men."mrs. varley sighed again, and her face assumed anexpression of anxious pain as she thought of her sondick being exposed to a similar fate. mrs. varley wasnot given to nervous fears, but as she listened to theboy's recital of the slaughter of a party of white men,news of which had just reached the valley, her heartsank, and she prayed inwardly to him who is the husbandof the widow that her dear one might be protectedfrom the ruthless hand of the savage.
after a short pause, during which young marstonfidgeted about and looked concerned, as if he had somethingto say which he would fain leave unsaid, mrs.
varley continued,--"was it far off where the bloody deed was done?""yes; three weeks off, i believe. and jim scraggssaid that he found a knife that looked like the one wotbelonged to--to--" the lad hesitated.
"to whom, my boy? why don't ye go on?""to your son dick."the widow's hands dropped by her side, and shewould have fallen had not marston caught her.
"o mother dear, don't take on like that!" he cried,smoothing down the widow's hair as her head rested onhis breast.
for some time mrs. varley suffered the boy to fondleher in silence, while her breast laboured with anxiousdread.
"tell me all," she said at last, recovering a little.
"did jim see--dick?""no," answered the boy. "he looked at all thebodies, but did not find his; so he sent me over here totell ye that p'r'aps he's escaped."mrs. varley breathed more freely, and earnestlythanked god; but her fears soon returned when shethought of his being a prisoner, and recalled the talesof terrible cruelty often related of the savages.
while she was still engaged in closely questioningthe lad, jim scraggs himself entered the cottage, andendeavoured in a gruff sort of way to reassure the widow.
"ye see, mistress," he said, "dick is an oncommontough customer, an' if he could only git fifty yards' start,there's not an injun in the west as could git hold o' himagin; so don't be takin' on.""but what if he's been taken prisoner?" said thewidow.
"ay, that's jest wot i've comed about. ye see it'snot onlikely he's bin took; so about thirty o' the ladso' the valley are ready jest now to start away and givethe red riptiles chase, an' i come to tell ye; so keep upheart, mistress."with this parting word of comfort, jim withdrew,and marston soon followed, leaving the widow to weepand pray in solitude.
meanwhile an animated scene was going on near theblock-house. here thirty of the young hunters of themustang valley were assembled, actively engaged insupplying themselves with powder and lead, and tighteningtheir girths, preparatory to setting out in pursuitof the indians who had murdered the white men; whilehundreds of boys and girls, and not a few matrons,crowded round and listened to the conversation, and tothe deep threats of vengeance that were uttered everand anon by the younger men.
major hope, too, was among them. the worthymajor, unable to restrain his roving propensities, determinedto revisit the mustang valley, and had arrivedonly two days before.
backwoodsmen's preparations are usually of the shortestand simplest. in a few minutes the cavalcade wasready, and away they went towards the prairies, withthe bold major at their head. but their journey wasdestined to come to an abrupt and unexpected close.
a couple of hours' gallop brought them to the edge ofone of those open plains which sometimes break up thewoodland near the verge of the great prairies. itstretched out like a green lake towards the horizon, onwhich, just as the band of horsemen reached it, the sunwas descending in a blaze of glory.
with a shout of enthusiasm, several of the youngermembers of the party sprang forward into the plainat a gallop; but the shout was mingled with one of adifferent tone from the older men.
"hist!--hallo!--hold on, ye catamounts! there'sinjuns ahead!"the whole band came to a sudden halt at this cry,and watched eagerly, and for some time in silence, themotions of a small party of horsemen who were seen inthe far distance, like black specks on the golden sky.
"they come this way, i think," said major hope,after gazing steadfastly at them for some minutes.
several of the old hands signified their assent to thissuggestion by a grunt, although to unaccustomed eyesthe objects in question looked more like crows thanhorsemen, and their motion was for some time scarcelyperceptible.
"i sees pack-horses among them," cried young marstonin an excited tone; "an' there's three riders; butthere's som'thin' else, only wot it be i can't tell.""ye've sharp eyes, younker," remarked one of themen, "an' i do b'lieve ye're right."presently the horsemen approached, and soon therewas a brisk fire of guessing as to who they could be.
it was evident that the strangers observed the cavalcadeof white men, and regarded them as friends, for theydid not check the headlong speed at which they approached.
in a few minutes they were clearly made outto be a party of three horsemen driving pack-horsesbefore them, and somethin' which some of the huntersguessed was a buffalo calf.
young marston guessed too, but his guess was different.
moreover, it was uttered with a yell that wouldhave done credit to the fiercest of all the savages.
"crusoe!" he shouted, while at the same moment hebrought his whip heavily down on the flank of his littlehorse, and sprang over the prairie like an arrow.
one of the approaching horsemen was far ahead ofhis comrades, and seemed as if encircled with the flyingand voluminous mane of his magnificent horse.
"ha! ho!" gasped marston in a low tone to himself,as he flew along. "crusoe! i'd know ye, dog,among a thousand! a buffalo calf! ha! git on withye!"this last part of the remark was addressed to hishorse, and was followed by a whack that increased thepace considerably.
the space between two such riders was soon devoured.
"hallo! dick--dick varley!""eh! why, marston, my boy!"the friends reined up so suddenly that one mighthave fancied they had met like the knights of old in theshock of mortal conflict.
"is't yerself, dick varley?"dick held out his hand, and his eyes glistened, but hecould not find words.
marston seized it, and pushing his horse close up,vaulted nimbly off and alighted on charlie's back behindhis friend.
"off ye go, dick! i'll take ye to yer mother."without reply, dick shook the reins, and in anotherminute was in the midst of the hunters.
to the numberless questions that were put to him heonly waited to shout aloud, "we're all safe! they'lltell ye all about it," he added, pointing to his comrades,who were now close at hand; and then, dashing onward,made straight for home, with little marston clinging tohis waist like a monkey.
charlie was fresh, and so was crusoe, so you may besure it was not long before they all drew up oppositethe door of the widow's cottage. before dick coulddismount, marston had slipped off, and was already inthe kitchen.
"here's dick, mother!"the boy was an orphan, and loved the widow so muchthat he had come at last to call her mother.
before another word could be uttered, dick varleywas in the room. marston immediately stepped out andsoftly shut the door. reader, we shall not open it!
having shut the door, as we have said, marston randown to the edge of the lake and yelled with delight--usuallyterminating each paroxysm with the indian war-whoop,with which he was well acquainted. then hedanced, and then he sat down on a rock, and becamesuddenly aware that there were other hearts there, closebeside him, as glad as his own. another mother of themustang valley was rejoicing over a long-lost son.
crusoe and his mother fan were scampering roundeach other in a manner that evinced powerfully thestrength of their mutual affection.
talk of holding converse! every hair on crusoe'sbody, every motion of his limbs, was eloquent withsilent language. he gazed into his mother's mild eyesas if he would read her inmost soul (supposing that shehad one). he turned his head to every possible angle,and cocked his ears to every conceivable elevation, andrubbed his nose against fan's, and barked softly, inevery imaginable degree of modulation, and varied theseproceedings by bounding away at full speed over therocks of the beach, and in among the bushes and outagain, but always circling round and round fan, andkeeping her in view!
it was a sight worth seeing, and young marston satdown on a rock, deliberately and enthusiastically, togloat over it. but perhaps the most remarkable partof it has not yet been referred to. there was yetanother heart there that was glad--exceeding glad thatday. it was a little one too, but it was big for thebody that held it. grumps was there, and all thatgrumps did was to sit on his haunches and stare at fanand crusoe, and wag his tail as well as he could in soawkward a position! grumps was evidently bewilderedwith delight, and had lost nearly all power to expressit. crusoe's conduct towards him, too, was not calculatedto clear his faculties. every time he chanced to passnear grumps in his elephantine gambols, he gave hima passing touch with his nose, which always knockedhim head over heels; whereat grumps invariably gotup quickly and wagged his tail with additional energy.
before the feelings of those canine friends were calmed,they were all three ruffled into a state of comparativeexhaustion.
then young marston called crusoe to him, andcrusoe, obedient to the voice of friendship, went.
"are you happy, my dog?""you're a stupid fellow to ask such a question; howeverit's an amiable one. yes, i am.""what do you want, ye small bundle o' hair?"this was addressed to grumps, who came forwardinnocently, and sat down to listen to the conversation.
on being thus sternly questioned the little dog putdown its ears flat, and hung its head, looking up at thesame time with a deprecatory look, as if to say, "ohdear, i beg pardon. i--i only want to sit near crusoe,please; but if you wish it, i'll go away, sad and lonely,with my tail very much between my legs; indeed i will,only say the word, but--but i'd rather stay if i might.""poor bundle!" said marston, patting its head, "youcan stay then. hooray! crusoe, are you happy, isay? does your heart bound in you like a cannon ballthat wants to find its way out, and can't, eh?"crusoe put his snout against marston's cheek, and inthe excess of his joy the lad threw his arms round thedog's neck and hugged it vigorously--a piece of impulsiveaffection which that noble animal bore with characteristicmeekness, and which grumps regarded with idioticsatisfaction.
