Hope and Have Part 22

"'s.h.!.+" said Ethan, impressively. "They're comin'."

The light step of the moccasoned feet of the savages was now distinctly heard in the barn. Their guttural jargon grated harshly on the ears of the fugitives in their concealment, as they tremblingly waited the issue.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE INDIAN BOY.

Above the voices of the other savages, the harsh and heavy tones of Lean Bear were prominent. He spoke in the Indian dialect, and of course the anxious fugitives could not understand what he said; but he seemed to be angry and impatient, disappointed and chagrined; and Ethan and f.a.n.n.y readily inferred that, as he was searching for them, he was the more ferocious because he could not find them. They lay silent and motionless in their hiding-place, hardly daring to breathe, lest a sound should reach the quick ears of their relentless foes.

The Indians searched in every nook and cranny of the barn where a human being could possibly be concealed. They climbed to the top of the mow, pulled over the hay, jumped upon it, and thrust their knives deep down.

The fugitives felt the weight of the pursuers pressing heavily down upon them; they realized that the points of the b.l.o.o.d.y knives were within a short distance of their vital organs; but, breathless and silent, they lay in the most agonizing suspense, expecting to be dragged from their retreat, and subjected to atrocities which it froze their blood to think of.

The remorseless miscreants howled with disappointed rage as the search was abandoned. f.a.n.n.y and Ethan drew a long sigh of relief when they heard their foes on the floor beneath them. The good Father to whom they prayed so earnestly had dimmed the eyes of the savages so that they could not see, and the danger of that terrible moment pa.s.sed by them. f.a.n.n.y breathed her thanks to G.o.d for her safety--she did not dare to speak them.

The savages consulted together, using brief, sharp, and exciting sentences. Their words were not understood, and no clew to their future purposes could be obtained. Lean Bear spoke in tones even more savage than he had used before, and the steps of the Indians were heard as they left the barn.

"Hev they gone?" asked Ethan, in a convulsive whisper.

"Yes, I think they have," replied f.a.n.n.y, in a tone not less agitated.

"Let us thank G.o.d that we are still safe."

"Don't whistle till you get out o' the woods," added Ethan, who referred, not to the thanks, but to the exultation which his companion appeared to feel at their apparent safety.

"We must be thankful and submissive, Ethan. We have been saved this time, whatever may happen next."

"I am thankful."

"I know you are. We must trust in our Father in heaven if we expect him to hear our prayer."

"'s.h.!.+" interposed Ethan, as he became silent and motionless again.

The voices of the Indians were heard near the barn again, and other moments of agonizing suspense were in store for the fugitives. The gruff tones of Lean Bear rose above those of his companions, and it was evident that they had not yet given up the search.

"Ho, ho, ho! He, he, he!" yelled the monsters, which cries were to them expressions of satisfaction.

It was painfully clear to Ethan and f.a.n.n.y that the Indians had made some important discovery, or done some act which would accomplish their purpose. More agonizing than the thought came the reality, a few moments afterwards, while the wretches outside of the barn were still shouting their hideous yells. A smell of smoke, accompanied by a sharp, crackling sound, a.s.sured the waiting, trembling couple in the hay-mow that their worst fears were realized. The Indians had set fire to the barn.

"We are lost!" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y. "They have set fire to the barn!"

"'s.h.!.+ Don't say a word," interposed Ethan.

"We shall be burned to death!"

"Don't give up; keep still."

"Keep still?" repeated f.a.n.n.y, amazed at the self-possession of her companion. "We shall be burned to death in a few minutes."

"Don't say nothin', f.a.n.n.y."

It was not easy to keep still in that terrible moment of peril, but Ethan seemed to know what he was about, and his coolness and courage acted as inspiration upon his terrified companion. f.a.n.n.y prayed again, in a hardly audible whisper; but this time, Ethan, though perhaps his heart was with her, was thinking of something else. She felt more calm after her prayer, though the dense smoke and the snapping flames admonished her that death was close at hand. The rough prairie boy looked resolute, and seemed to have conquered his fears. She wondered whether he had discovered any possible avenue of escape, for nothing but the promptings of a strong hope, whether real or delusive, could have produced such a change in his bearing.

"Better be burned up, than butchered by the redskins," said he, at last.

Was this the explanation of his new-born courage? It was a terrible alternative, but f.a.n.n.y was forced to believe that what he said was true.

"Is there no escape for us?"

"Don'no; whar's the Injins now?"

"I don't hear them," replied f.a.n.n.y.

"Nuther do I. We must stay here jest as long as we kin."

"But the barn is on fire! If we are going to get out at all, we must do so at once."

"Don't hurry. The fire's all out to t'other end o' the barn. It won't hurt us jest yit," said Ethan, with wonderful coolness. "I s'pose the Injins is in a hurry, and they won't stop no longer'n they want to.

Jest as soon as they move off we'll git out."

"How shall we get out after the barn is all in a blaze?"

"That's easy enough. I ain't a bit afeered of the fire, but I am pesky skeered of the Injins."

The confidence of Ethan increased the courage of f.a.n.n.y. She had more to dread from the Indians than he had, and if he preferred to die by the flames, she ought to be willing to share his fate. She commended her soul and that of her companion to G.o.d, and tried to be calm and resolute, and she succeeded to an extent which astonished herself.

The fire was rapidly leaping upward, and the barn was soon enveloped in flames. The Indians could not now be seen through the cracks, nor could their voices be heard, and the fire-besieged fugitives supposed they had gone to new fields of blood and rapine.

"We can't stand it much longer--kin we?" said Ethan, as they heard the crash of some falling timbers at the other end of the building.

"We are not burned yet, but I am nearly suffocated by the smoke,"

replied f.a.n.n.y. "Do you suppose the Indians are gone?"

"I reckon they be; but they hain't gone fur yit," added Ethan, as he applied his shoulder to one of the boards on the side of the barn.

"Let me help you," said f.a.n.n.y.

"You ain't nothin' but a gal, and you can't do much," replied Ethan.

He was a stout boy, and the board, only slightly nailed, gave way before the pressure he applied to it; but it required a great deal of labor to detach it from the timbers above and below. He had not begun this work a moment too soon, for the flames were sweeping over the surface of the mow, and the roof was falling in upon them. The barn was stored full of new hay, which, being partially green, did not burn very readily, especially the solid ma.s.ses of it. The heat was intense, and nothing but a greater peril without could have forced them to remain so long in the building.

The first board was removed, and then a second, leaving an opening wide enough for them to get out. They were about fifteen feet above the level of the ground, but there was no difficulty, even to f.a.n.n.y, in the descent, though some young ladies might have regarded this minor obstacle as one of some importance. Ethan thrust his head out at the aperture, and looked in every direction his position commanded a view of, in search of the Indians, but none of them were in sight.

"Be quick, Ethan, or the fire will be upon us," said f.a.n.n.y, who began to feel the near approach of the flames above her.

"Where shall we go when we get out? We must understand matters a leetle grain aforehand."