By a circuitous path through the
ravine they reached the foot of the mount, where lay a birch canoe, rocking
gently on the waters, in which a middle-aged female and a young girl were
seated. The females asked no questions, and expressed no word indicative of
curiosity or surprise, as the strong arm of the Indian lifted his captive
into the canoe, and made signs to the elder squaw to push from the shore.
When all had taken their places, the woman, catching up a paddle from the
bottom of the little vessel, stood up, and with a few rapid strokes sent it
skimming over the lake.
The miserable captive, overpowered with the sense of her calamitous
situation, bowed down her head upon her knees, and concealing her agitated
face in her garments, wept in silent agony. Visions of horror presented
themselves to her bewildered brain--all that Indiana had described of the
cruelty of this vindictive race, came vividly before her mind. Poor child,
what miserable thoughts were thine during that brief voyage!
Had the Indians also captured her friends? or was she alone to be the
victim of their vengeance? What would be the feelings of those I beloved
ones on returning to their home and finding it desolate! Was there no hope
of release? As these ideas chased each other through her agitated mind, she
raised her eyes all streaming with tears to the faces of the Indian and his
companions with so piteous a look, that any heart but the stoical one of an
Indian would have softened at its sad appeal; but no answering glance of
sympathy met hers, no eye gave back its silent look of pity--not a nerve
or a muscle moved the cold apathetic features of the Indians, and the
woe-stricken girl again resumed her melancholy attitude, burying her
face in her heaving bosom to hide its bitter emotions from the heartless
strangers.
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