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 Another Random Document on
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more threatening; his utterances were still of that sing-song
character already mentioned, but they had now become almost
unearthly in their intonations. What mad thoughts there might be in
his mind at that time could not be known; nor could they imagine
the exciting visions that were wrought in his distracted brain.
Whatever they were, they at length passed away; and his eyes, that
had been rolling at vacancy, now steadied themselves, and suddenly
fastened themselves upon the boys with a look of concentrated hate
and fury that was terrible.
So terrible was that look, that the boys all shrank back in horror.
Then they started up to their feet, and stood close together, in
silence, each nerving his young heart for the coming struggle, which
now seemed imminent. As they thus stood, they were on a line with
Solomon; but their attention was so occupied with the Indian that
they neither thought of him nor saw him.
“Let’s stick together,” said Bart at length in hurried tones—“it’s our
only chance.”
“Stick it is,” said Pat, who had recovered his coolness, “through
thick and thin.”
Phil said nothing, but stood his ground with the others, and
waited.
The movements of the boys had excited the Indian still more. A
furious cry escaped him. He looked at them for a moment, and then
moved to the right, and flung his bottle into the fire. The spirits
poured out, and the blaze threw a bluish, ghastly glare over the
scene. Then the madman gave a terrible yell, and rushed towards
the boys.
The boys saw him coming. They stood firm. They gathered up all
their strength.
But suddenly a dark shadow darted forward, and a dark figure
flung itself against the Indian. It was Solomon. Watchful, eager,
fierce, he had waited for the onset, and as the Indian advanced he
made his spring. Rushing upon him, he struck him on the side, and
the onset was so unexpected that the Indian had not time to guard
against it. He fell to the ground. In a moment Solomon was upon
him. He twined his legs around him. He grasped the savage by the
throat. To that throat he clung with a death like tenacity, never
relaxing that iron grasp, that convulsive grip, but clinging, holding,
tightening his clutch all the more as his enemy strove to shake him
off.
The boys stood there looking on in speechless amazement. They
recognized Solomon, but could scarcely believe their own eyes.
Where had Solomon gained that bounding activity, that tremendous
strength and energy, which now availed him even against the
madman’s fury? Could this be Solomon—the one who was afraid of
his own superstitious fancies—the one who had just been in
miserable thraldom to a drunken wife? It seemed incredible. Yet that
this was Solomon himself they saw plainly.
The struggle was most violent. The Indian gasped, and groaned,
and writhed, and sought to free himself from the grasp of his
assailant. But Solomon’s grip could not be shaken off. He devoted all
his strength to that one thing, and did not waste any of his energies
in any useless efforts. The Indian’s struggles grew weaker. He was
suffocating from that grasp on his throat. Had he been younger, he
might have overpowered Solomon; but he was an old man himself,
perhaps quite as old as Solomon, and therefore he was not so
superior in strength as might be supposed.
And now a mighty feeling of triumph swelled through Solomon’s
heart, and chased away the furious impulse that had animated him
to this assault. The fainting efforts and the relaxing limbs of his
enemy showed that the victory was his. A softer feeling now came
over him, mingling with his triumph—he thought of the boys whom
he had saved.
He turned his head and raised himself slightly.
 “Nebber you fear, chil’en,” he said—“he do you no harm now.”
Suddenly the Indian made one last convulsive effort. Had Solomon
not been speaking to the boys he could have resisted even this last
throe of despair; but as it was, his attention was for the moment
distracted, and he was taken by surprise. The Indian tore himself
loose from Solomon’s grasp, jerked himself up by a mighty effort
upon one knee, and threw himself free from his assailant. Both were
now on their feet, facing one another, panting heavily. Once more
the fury of the fight raged in Solomon’s heart. He stood poised—he
prepared for a spring. The Indian’s strength lay in his madness; the
strength of Solomon lay in his devotion to the boys—in the frenzy of
his love and anxiety for their safety.
The boys came forward. This time they would not let Solomon
fight their battle. They would assist him, and lend all their united
strength to crush their savage assailant. It was one common
impulse, part of self-preservation, part of regard for Solomon, that
animated them, and they sprang to his side and waited.
All this was the work of a moment.
Another moment and Solomon would once more have made his
tiger-spring, and flung himself upon the madman.
But that moment had sufficed for the Indian to take breath, and to
receive a new impulse. This, time it was not hate or destructive fury.
It was terror. The terrible struggle from which he had escaped with
such difficulty had given a new turn to his frenzied thoughts. Fear
overmastered him. A stifled exclamation escaped him. He started
back.
Then he turned and ran.
He ran for his life; and in a few moments he had passed out of
sight, and was lost amid the gloom of the forest and the night.
 VII.
Passing the Night.—On Guard.—The watchful Sentinel.—Plans.—
Through the Woods.—The winding River.—Fishing.—The overcast
Sky. Arrival of Pat with startling Tidings.—A useless Search.

F
OR a few moments the whole party stood, confounded by
this new and sudden turn which events had taken.
“He’s gone, anyhow,” said Pat, who was the first to break
the silence.
The other boys said nothing. As for Solomon, he stared for a few
moments all around, and then quietly seated himself by the fire.
“Well, of all de cur’ousest an strornar est things!” he exclaimed.
“Ef dis don’t beat all creation holler, den I’m a niggar. An me in a
fight—a rail battle; no play, mind you; but a fight for life and def.
Clar ef I can understan it.”
And Solomon buried his head in his hands, quite overcome.
“Anyhow,” he resumed after a pause, “ye see how it was, chil’en.
Dat ar demon was a plungin an a jumpin, an I see he was makin for
you; so I ‘termined I’d hab a shy at him. Couldn’t stan dat ar nohow.
Ain’t a fightin man; but dat ar Ingin war so dreadful aggravatin;
mor’n flesh an blood could stan. Anyhow, I did gib him nuff ob it for
one spell; an he’ll tink twicet afore he tackle any ob us agin.”
“I never was so astonished in my life,” said Bart. “And how you did
pitch into him!” he continued, admiringly. “Why, you gave a leap like
a tiger. Down he went, with you on top—at his throat.”
Solomon laughed long, joyously, and uproariously. He chuckled, he
giggled, he slapped his knees, and finally he threw himself flat on his
back, and lay there, laughing, chuckling, crowing, and making a
confused medley of noises, all of which were intended by him to be
expressive of triumph and exultation.
“Clar ef I know what ebber did git hold ob me dat time,” he said,
in the intervals of his laughter. “Specs I mus hab gone clean mad an
rabin stracted. Didn’t tink dar was so much clar fight in me. Ain’t
such a rheumatic old nig, arter all. Fight any drunken Ingin on de
face ob de erf. Ki yi! Yep! Ho-o-o-o-o! Dat’s so.”
At all this the boys looked on without saying anything, wondering
at the change. Could this be the same man, thought Bart, that had
always seemed so helpless? whose “rheumatiz” seemed always to
prevent the slightest exertion? Could this be the same Solomon who
allowed himself to be captured by a parcel of Gaspereaugian boys?
Could this be the same man whom he had seen only a day or two
before, cowering and cringing at the sight of an angry woman? Was
the Solomon over whom Black Betsy had tyrannized so remorselessly
indeed the same one who had just flung himself at the throat of a
madman, and overpowered him? It seemed incredible.
Yet it was no other. Already Solomon was himself again, his old
natural self. Already he began to investigate his joints, and to
murmur doleful anticipations of a fresh attack of rheumatiz. But the
boys had other things than this to think of. The question now was,
how to pass the night. They did not feel altogether safe. The
madman who had just threatened them had fled; but it seemed to
them as though he was still lurking somewhere near them in the
shadow of the gloomy forest, waiting his chance; waiting till they
should go to sleep, so that he might rush upon them unawares. If
they wished to sleep at all, it would never do, they thought, for them
to sleep here with the firelight shining upon them, and revealing
them to the gaze of their enemy. They must seek some other place.
On mentioning this to Solomon, he objected very strongly.
“Dar’s no danger, chil’en,” he said. “Dat ar Injun won’t ebber come
back agin. He darsn’t. He nebber forget my grip. I frikend dat ar
Injun away forebbermo.”
“O, that’s the very reason why he’ll be back,” said Bart. “He’ll wait
till we’re all asleep, and then attack us. He’ll make a sudden spring
at you first.”
“No, he won’t,” said Solomon; “nebba. He don’t do dat ar wid dis
chile.”
“How can you prevent him if you’re asleep?”
“Cos I don’t’tend goin to sleep; dat’s how,” said Solomon. “Got him
dar, anyhow. Yah, yah, yah.”
“What! do you intend to watch?”
“Jes so. I pose on dis yar solemn casion, my spected friends, to
keep de fire a goin, and to hole a watch an a guard ober de party.”
“Do you think we’d let you do that?” said Bart. “Do you think we’d
go to sleep, and leave you to watch us all night? No. If there’s going
to be any watching, we’ll take turns.”
“Dat ar am all berry well,” said Solomon, with a dignified wave of
his hand, “stremely well, an proppa for ordnary casiums; but dis yar
casium’s a berry strornary casium. Dar’s danger; and de man dat’s
goin to keep watch mus be able to face de enemy in a fight. Dat ars
de reason, den, why I pose to keep a lookout. I’ll set heah, keep de
fire a goin, an you can all sleep safe an sound. Dar’s no use for you
to set up.”
“But you must sleep,” said Bart.
“O, I’ll wake you up early in de mornin, an hab my sleep den. So
now don’t talk no more, for I’m a goin to do dat ar, an watch dis
bressed night.”
Some further conversation followed, in which the boys insisted on
watching for a part of the time, at least. They were so urgent, that
Solomon at last had to consent. He insisted, however, that he would
sit up during the first part of the night, as the danger would be most
likely to take place then, if it took place at all, and promised to wake
them towards morning. With this understanding the boys lay down
by the fire, and in spite of their recent excitement, they soon fell
asleep.
Solomon sat there by the fire keeping watch with all his senses on
the alert. No danger was there of this faithful old sentinel sleeping at
his post. The very possibility of danger to the boys was enough to
keep all his mind wakeful and attentive. After a time he moved back
a little, and rested his back against a tree.
The hours of the night passed on slowly and tediously. The boys
slept soundly, and were lost in the land of dreams. Occasionally
Solomon amused himself and beguiled the time by going forth and
collecting sticks for the fire. The flames smouldered low, and the
sticks that Solomon was able to gather were not sufficient to kindle
them afresh to any great extent, and so the consequence was, that
at length it nearly died out. It was profoundly dark; but still Solomon
watched, and felt no inclination to sleep.
He had promised to awake the boys towards morning, but they
slept so soundly that he had not the heart to keep his promise, and
so he let them sleep on. At length Bart awoke, and, starting up, he
looked all around. It was early morning twilight; the sky was
brightening overhead, and the forms of the forest trees were visible
around. As he started, Solomon got up, and walked towards him.
“Well, Mas’r Bart,” said he, “all right so far. De Injun gone off
forebbamo.”
“Why didn’t you wake me before?” asked Bart.
“De gracious sakes, now, chile!” said Solomon; “dar wasn’t no
casium. ’Tain’t mornin yet.”
“Well, you lie down now, and go to sleep,” said Bart.
 “All right,” said Solomon; and going back to the tree where he had
been sitting, he curled himself up on the moss at the foot of it, and,
drawing his shawl over his head and shoulders, was soon in a sound
slumber.
And now the morning advanced; slowly the shades of night faded
away, until, at length, the day dawned, and a thousand birds awaked
the echoes of the forest in all directions, and filled all the air with a
flood of melody. Bart looked up at the sky, and noticed that it was
overcast. There was also a very peculiar appearance there which
excited his attention. There seemed clouds overhead; but the clouds
had a sickly, yellowish color, which was unlike anything that he had
ever seen. After a short time, Pat and Phil awoke, and Bart drew
their attention to this. They, however, thought nothing of it.
“It’s only common clouds,” said Phil.
“Deed, an it’s a good sign, so it is,” said Pat, in his usual tone of
confidence. “The trout bite wondherful whin they see a sky like that
over thim. It’s lucky for us we’ve got sich weather.”
Bart had his doubts about this, but he kept them to himself, and
then the boys began to consider what they had better do. The loss
of their Indian guide made a change in their circumstances of a very
important nature. As long as they had him with them, they had no
care or anxiety, for they knew that he would take them to all the
best places in the country. But, now that he had gone, what ought
they to do first?
The idea of going back occurred, but it was at once dismissed. To
go back would be very fatiguing, and would be of no particular use.
For, if they did get another guide, he might turn out as badly as the
one whom they had lost; and besides, their experience with Sam
disgusted them with guides and with Indians altogether.
“If I only had a compass,” said Bart, “we’d be all right, for we
could at least be able to choose some direction, and have some idea
of where we went. But, as it is, we shall have to wander at random.”
 “Sure and that’s the very best way there is to wandhcr, so it is,”
said Pat. “It’s a mighty sight better to go sthrollin along as you like
than it is to be taggin afther a big drunken Injin, any day.”
“Yes,” said Phil, “that’s the best way. Let’s go strolling along,
fishing at every brook we come to, and enjoy ourselves. We can
make camps, and if we come to any pleasanter place than usual, we
can stay there for two or three days. Why, this is the very best way
of enjoying ourselves. I’m sure I couldn’t imagine anything more
glorious.”
“I wonder if there are any fish up that little brook,” said Bart.
“Sure an we’d betther try.”
“One of us had better stay behind with Solomon,” said Bart.
“I’ll stay,” said Phil; “I’ll get some sticks and build the fire again,
and if you do get any fish, we’ll be able to have some for breakfast.”
Upon this, Bart and Pat prepared their rods, and lines, and went
off up the brook. It was not very large, but it had the general
appearance of a good trouting stream; and the appearance did not
deceive them, for after a short time, to their great joy, they
succeeded in hooking ten or a dozen very respectable trout, with
which they returned to the “encampment.” Here they found a brisk
fire, beside which Phil was sitting awaiting their return. As they
reached the place, Solomon awoke from his nap, and joined them at
the fire. Then followed breakfast, which consisted of broiled trout,
and, as they had brought plenty of salt and pepper in their baskets,
there was no lack of relish, and the fish was pronounced delicious.
After breakfast, they once more noticed the appearance of the
sky. It had still that dull, sickly, yellowish hue which had first struck
Bart’s attention. Although the day had advanced since then, the sky
had not changed, and there was no increase of light.
“It’s smoke,” said Bart. “I wonder what’s the cause of it.”
 “De woods are burnin,” said Solomon.
“I wonder if it is anywhere near,” said Phil.
“O, no!” said Bart; “it’s some distant fire or other. Perhaps they’re
clearing land.”
“Dar’s alius smoke a floatin about d’ese times in de woods,” said
Solomon. “Dey keep a clearin an a choppin—no end.”
“Sure an it’s all the betther fer us,” said Pat, “for an overcast sky is
the thing for the throut; an sure they niver know the difference
whither it’s smoke or clouds, so they don’t, an they bite all the same,
so they do.”
They now prepared for the day’s work; but before starting, Bart
said that they ought to appoint some place of meeting, in case they
got separated. On discussing this point, however, they soon found
that they were not in a position to appoint any place of rendezvous,
since no one place was known to them except where they were
sitting. They did not care about remaining in the vicinity of this
place, but wished to ramble on at leisure, and at liberty.
“Sure an there’s no nade,” said Pat; “we can all kape widin hearin
of one another, so we can.”
“At any rate,” said Phil, “we can start now, and stay by one
another as long as possible. If we come to any place where we have
to separate, we can easily make an arrangement to come back to
that place.”
This last remark seemed satisfactory, and as it was really the only
thing that they could do, they said no more on the subject, but set
forth at once.
They walked on for about an hour, and at length emerged from
the pine trees, and came to woods where the trees were largely
birch and maple. Thus far, their progress had been very easy, as the
ground under the pine trees was smooth, and there was very little
underbrush. At this place, however, it became more difficult. Small
trees and underbrush arose on every side in great profusion, and the
ground rose in a succession of gentle eminences, while an
occasional swamp intervened. Still, it was not very difficult walking
even there, and the chief difference was, that their course became
much more circuitous. Through this they wandered for another hour
and more, without finding any place that was at all suitable.
At length, to their great joy, they found themselves upon the edge
of a small rivulet, which was not more than forty or fifty feet in
width. Its bed just here was strewn with pebbles and cobblestones;
but farther up and down, they saw hollows and deeper places in the
river-bed, which promised some sport. Here they prepared for
action. Phil and Pat offered to go down the stream, while Bart and
Solomon could go up. Before parting, it was settled that they should
come back to this place. On the other side of the stream there were
two birch trees growing close together, which would serve as a
sufficient landmark to enable them to recognize this place on their
return; and with this arrangement the two parties separated, Phil
and Pat descending the stream, while Bart and Solomon went up the
channel.
Bart and Solomon went up the river-bed for some distance. They
found no difficulty in going along, for the stream was shallow, and
they could wade it in most places. Occasionally they came to deeper
places, which they traversed by going round them. At length they
reached a place that looked favorable to their designs, and began to
try them. A few bites rewarded them, and two or three small trout
were soon deposited in their baskets. They now began to enter more
into the spirit of the occasion, and continued slowly ascending the
stream, stopping sometimes a long while in some particularly good
place, till they had exhausted it, and then resuming their tramp. The
consequence was, that their baskets soon began to be unpleasantly
heavy, and they had to confine themselves more exclusively to one
spot, and indulge to a less extent in their wanderings. All this time
these two had had no occasion to keep a lookout on each other, for
Solomon, with his instinct of fidelity, had no other idea than that of
simply following Bart wherever he went.
All this time the sky had maintained the same yellowish hue, and
was as much overcast as ever. Here and there they reached places
where the view upward was more extensive, and their gaze could
command a larger part of the sky. They saw rolling clouds which
seemed most unmistakably to be smoke, and these they thought the
sure indications of some fire, which, judging from these
appearances, was larger than usual. Beyond an occasional glance
upward, however, and a stray remark, these appearances excited no
particular notice on the part of either of them.
At length it began to grow somewhat late, and they decided to
return. Their long march and still longer fishing excursion had
greatly fatigued them; and in going back, they found the distance far
greater than they had supposed. At length they recognized the
landmark; and here they both flung themselves wearily down upon
the bank, and waited for the return of the others.
For a long time they waited there. It grew later and later, but
there was no sign of either of them. At length they saw some one
coming, and as he drew nearer they recognized Pat. He was very
much out of breath, and soaking wet from head to foot.
“Where’s Phil?”
Those were the first words that Pat spoke, and he spoke them in
hurried, anxious tones.
“Phil!” cried Bart. “Why, don’t you know?”
“Hasn’t he got back yit?” said Pat, with something like a wail.
“No,” said Bart, as a dark feeling of apprehension came to him.
“Och, thin,” cried Pat, “it’s fairly heart-broke I am, so I am; and no
one knows what I’ve suffered this blissed day. Sorra one o’ me
knows what has become of him. An I’ve been scourin the whole
country back’ards an for’ards, an yellin meself hoarse, so that I can’t
utther one blissed howl more, so I can’t.”
At these startling words, all Pat’s anxiety and more communicated
itself to Bart. He hastily questioned Pat about Phil’s disappearance.
“We wint down,” said Pat, “for iver so far, an we came to one of
the foinest holes iver was. We fished there a half hour an more, and
thin Phil says, says he, ‘I’ll go, says he, over beyont,’—for there was
a moighty big rock jist forninst us. So he wint for to climb the rock,
and he says, ‘I’m goin furder down,’ says he. So I thought no more
about it, but wint on wid me fishin. It wasn’t for iver so long that I
thought of him; but at last I begins to fail anxious, and wondhers to
meself what iver have become of him. So I started off. I didn’t climb
over the big rock, as he did, but crossed the sthraim and wint down
the other side. Well, I couldn’t see a sign of him. I called, an yelled,
an howled, an walked iver so far down an back agin; an that same
I’ve been doin iver since, till I thought, at last, he might have
somehow got back here. An he ain’t here.”
This story caused terrible anxiety. Bart at once started down the
stream, and reached a high, rocky bank covered with trees. He
stood here and called. It was now too dark to see much. His calls
awaked no response. He then returned, full of the most anxious
fears, with a faint hope that he might find Phil on his return.
But on his return there was no Phil to be seen.
 VIII.
The Loss of Phil.—Deep Gloom and heavy Grief.—A Night of Terror.
—The torrid Atmosphere.——The Smell of Smoke.—The Darkness
that might be felt.—Morning brings Relief.—The Search.—The Rock
and the Precipice by the River-side.—The Track of Phil.—Following
the Trail.—The Trail lost.—Persevering Search.—The End of the Day.

T
HE loss of Phil produced a terrible effect upon the little
party. Pat’s grief was expressed by sighs and groans for
some time, until at length his elastic nature rebounded from
its depression, and he began to hope for the best. Solomon was
deeply distressed, and said not a word; while Bart was also silent,
and he tried in vain to conjecture what had been the cause of Phil’s
departure. To him it seemed perfectly unaccountable how he could
have got lost. There was the stream, and it seemed to be easy
enough, even if one had wandered from it, to retrace his steps.
From Pat’s story, Phil’s departure from him by that rock was the
beginning of misfortunes. At some time after that he must have
begun to wander in a wrong direction, and gradually gone farther
and farther away till he was lost.
All that night none of them slept. For a time they kept up a series
of cries, which awakened no response. Then they built a fire,
thinking that the glow would penetrate to a distance beyond where
their cries could go. They made the fire on the bank, and kept it up
for two or three hours; but at length they could find no more fuel,
and allowed it to die out.
While thus watching and using these efforts to make known their
situation to the wanderer, their excitement and suspense were too
great to allow of any thought of sleep. Eyes and ears were
constantly on the stretch, and every sound, however faint,
awakened within them the hope that it might be Phil. But the hours
passed on, and not a single sign appeared to them as they watched,
and listened, and waited.
“I wonder whether he is wandering about in this darkness or not,”
said Bart, in an anxious-voice. “But I don’t suppose it is possible for
any one to walk in these woods now.”
“Niver a walk,” said Pat; “not he. He’s tin times comfortabler thin
we are. He’s jist gathered some moss, an he’s made a comfortable
bed for himself over beyont, somewheres under thim trays. Deed an
he has. An what’s more, he’s asleep now, sound as a top, so he is;
an I wish I wor as sound aslape as he is this blissed momint.”
Bart shook his head mournfully.
“No,” said he, with a sigh, “he won’t have much sleep to-night,
poor old Phil; he’s got too much to think of. If he had some one with
him, he’d feel all right; but it’s a terrible thing to be all alone this
way. And it’s a miserable night; so horribly dark; so hot. I can
scarcely breathe. I never knew such a night.”
“Thrue for you,” said Pat. “It’s fairly suffocated I am. But at any
rate, that makes no differ to Phil. Sure its betther for him to be too
warrum thin too cowld, so it is.”
“I can’t understand it,” said Bart, after a pause. “I don’t see why
he should be lost. I wonder whether—but that’s nonsense.”
“What’s that?”
“I wonder whether Sam could have been following us,” said Bart,
half shuddering at the frightful thought that had occurred.
“Sam? What, the Injin?”
“Yes.”
“An what’d he be a follerin of us for?”
 “O, I don’t know. But you remember how he looked last night. He
looked like a demon. He certainly tried to kill us.”
“Sure but he was dead dhrunk an mad intoirely, so he was.”
“But his mad fit may have lasted till to-day; and he may have
been sneaking after us through the woods, and watching for a
chance to do some mischief. And so—”
Bart hesitated.
Pat was silent for a few moments.
“O, sure,” said he at last, “what are ye givin way for to sich mad
deludherin notions? What’d he be wantin of a boy like Phil?”
“He might have vowed vengeance on us.”
“Yingince is it? By the powers, thin, if it’s vingince he wanted, it ud
be Solomon that he’d track, not Phil, that niver so much as spoke
one word to him, good or bad, all the time he was with us. And as
for vingince, sure my iday is, that the Injin’d give up all the vingince
that ivir wor for a glass o’ whiskey, so he wud.”
Bart made no reply. The subject was too terrible to be discussed.
He tried to dismiss the thought from his mind. But the idea, having
once suggested itself, was not to be got rid of so easily. Do what he
could, it came back to him over and over again, taking possession of
his mind more and more strongly.
A terrible thought it indeed was that had thus come to him—the
idea of that demoniac being who had sprung at them on the
previous night, and had only been repelled by what seemed almost a
miracle, being still animated by furious hate and a thirst for
vengeance,—the idea of this implacable savage, thirsting for their
blood, following stealthily on their trail all that day, maintaining his
pursuit with that inexhaustible patience and tenacity of purpose
which a bloodthirsty savage alone can show when on the search for
vengeance. Had he indeed done this? Had this been the secret
history of that day? Was this blood-hound indeed on their track?
Could it have been possible that he had devoted them one by one to
destruction, and had bided his time, and had made Phil his first
victim the moment he wandered away from the others? It was a
horrible, a sickening thought.
Now, Bart’s mind was full of stories of Indian warfare and Indian
vengeance, accumulated during a course of reading in Cooper’s
Leatherstocking series, and kindred works; and so it is no wonder
that this idea came to him. Besides, he had yet fresh and vivid in his
mind the assault of that drunken fiend the night before. All these
things combined to fix this fearful idea in his mind. As the hours
passed on it became more deeply seated, until at length he was in
an indescribable state of anxiety and alarm.
Thus the hours of that night passed away—a night even worse
than the preceding one; for then the terror had come and gone; but
now it hung over them all the time. In addition to this, the night
itself was most depressing. It was intensely dark. After the fire had
died out, it was impossible to see anything whatever—not even the
hand before the face. The deepest shadows surrounded them on all
sides, and wherever they looked their eyes encountered nothing but
the blackness of darkness. Besides this, it was exceedingly hot and
sultry, the air having a certain indescribable oppressiveness which
made them sometimes fairly gasp for breath. The only relief that
they were able to gain was by making frequent applications to the
water of the river, sometimes dashing it over their faces, at other
times dipping in their heads, or feet. This sultriness oppressed them
all in an equal degree, and united with the intense darkness to throw
them into a state of bewilderment and perplexity. Taken in
connection with Phil’s disappearance and the terrible event of the
preceding night, it produced such an effect upon the mind of Bart,
that all the fears which were suggested by his vivid fancy became
more formidable and irresistible. Solomon said nothing at all, but
appeared to be quite overwhelmed. Pat alone struggled against the
evil influences of the time, and endeavored most energetically to put
the best appearance on things, and to rouse Bart from the deep
gloom into which he had fallen. So the night passed; and it was at
length with a feeling of immense relief that they saw the darkness
begin to lessen.
As the day dawned, a faint breeze sprang up, which brought a
gentle, cooling influence with it. They rose and inhaled with long
breaths the more grateful air. Gradually the darkness disappeared,
and the daylight increased, and the forms of things around them
became revealed.
Overhead there was no change from the day before. The sky was
all covered over with dense clouds, which seemed to hang much
lower down than on the preceding day, and now appeared whirling
round and rolling over the heavens in vast vortices. This movement
on their part was, no doubt, caused by their encountering the breeze
which had sprung up, and which, meeting them now in their course,
arrested that course, and whirled them back in confused heaps.
And now a new day lay before them, in which they would have to
employ every hour in the search after Phil. What that day or that
search might bring forward, they could not tell; but they were eager
to begin it as soon as possible. While it was yet morning twilight,
they ate their breakfast, and discussed the best plan of procedure.
Solomon, as usual, made no remark upon the subject, being content
to abide by Bart’s decision, while Bart and Pat talked over various
ways of carrying on their search. To separate was not to be thought
of, for that would only lead to fresh troubles. So it was decided, that
wherever they went, they should now keep together. They further
decided that they should go down the stream till they reached that
rock already spoken of, which had been the point of Phil’s departure,
and try if they could not get upon his trail, so as to see, at least in a
general way, what direction he had taken.
During this deliberation about the course which they should take,
Bart still exhibited the despondency which had characterized him
ever since Phil’s disappearance. The gloom of night and the
oppressive sultriness had passed, daylight was at hand, and the
breeze brought fresh life to them; but still Bart’s spirits were deeply
depressed. Against this Pat rebelled, and the cheerfulness and
confidence which he had tried to maintain through the night now
assumed a prominent place in his thoughts and in his manner.
“Yes,” said Bart, dolefully, continuing some remark which he had
been making, “if we can only get on his trail, we may at least find
out the general direction that he has taken. But I’m afraid there’s no
hope.”
“Arrah, be off now wid yer nonsinse,” cried Pat. “What’s the use of
givin up at the very fust, afore ye’ve made a single trial? Sure an
he’ll turrun up all right and safe yit.”
“I wish I could think so.”
“Think so! Why, I know it. Sure am I this day that he’ll turrun up
safe an sound. An why shouldn’t he?”
“These woods. If he once gets tangled among them, how can he
ever find his way out?”
“Tangled among them, is it? Sure an it’s not so very bad thin. He
can only walk on an walk on; an he’s sure to come out somewheres.
Besides, he’ll hit upon a road some place or other, and wander along
that.”
“There are no roads here.”
“How do you know? Ye don’t know. Thur may be fifty roads widin
a mile of this very place, so there may. So what’s the use of givin
up?”
“No,” said Bart. “This is a wild, unfrequented place, and the woods
are unbroken for an immense distance. If Phil has got among them
he will wander on till—till he drops.”
 “Ah, come now, none of that. Sure, what do ye think of Phil? Do
ye think now that Phil’s an idiot? Sure now, what’d ye do yerself if it
was you that was lost instead of Phil? Do you think that you’d
wandher about till you dropped, or do ye think ye’d work yer way
out somewheres? Come now, ye know ye’d work yer way out, so you
would. And so would I. And so will Phil, so he will.”
This process of reasoning struck Bart so forcibly that he had not a
word to say. Pat in fact was right in his estimate of Bart’s confidence
in himself. Bart really did feel sure that if he were lost in the woods
he’d get out.
“Sure now imagine yerself in Phil’s place,” continued Pat, cheerily.
“What’d you do? I’ll tell you what you’d do. Whin ye found yerself
lost, ye’d thry, of coorse, to git back. Well, thin, ye’d go wandherin
about. Very well. Ye’d sit down an rist, and think what ye’d best do
nixt. Then ye’d start off afrish. Maybe ye’d climb a tray to see if ye
cud see anythin. At any rate ye’d work away as long as the daylight
lasted. At steeted intervals ye’d let off howls as loud as ye cud howl.
Well, thin, it’ud grow dark, an so ye’d go to work an make up your
mind to pass the night here, an ye’d thry, of coorse, to make yerself
as comfortable as possible. So ye’d collect any quantity of moss an
ferns, an spread them out—perhaps ye’d make a fire—but that’s
neither here nor there; anyhow, ye’d make a comfortable bid for
yerself, an thin ye’d take a bite of somethin to ate, and thin ye’d lie
doun an doze off into the comfortablest slape ye ever knew. That’s
what ye’d do—an ye know it, so ye do. Now wouldn’t ye? Answer me
that. Isn’t that jist what ye wud do?”
“Well, I suppose I would,” said Bart; “but perhaps the Indian has
had something to do.”
“The Injin. O, bah! Bother the Injin. That does to spake of in the
middle of a dark night, but not undher the bright daylight. That
Injin’s safe in his own camp by noo, I’ll warrant ye.”
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