Monmouth weekly herald. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1854-1860, 1858-12-09

ing such another.
But the end was not yet. Horrible as
that night was, | dreaded to see the nor
row. How could I expect to escape the
lynx eyes of so many savages, when they
should begin to beat over the ground for
plumber? And at times the thought of
this SO worked upon my feelings, that |
was more than once tempted to shrek
out, and let my position be known, and
thus bring upon myself the relief of q
speedy death for l knew, from nv disa-
bled condition, that the Indians would
not think of taking me prisoner, but
butcher me at once. And yet the instincts
OF life were greater than the temptations
speak Of. And these same instincts,
by the way, seem wisely sent for our
preservation-to act when reason tells
that all hope is lost, and we had better
end our woes at once.
How painfully | watched the dawning
of the day how eagerly and tremblingly
l listened to every sound At length |
coald hear the Indians astir ; and soon af
ter they began to traverse the scene of
slaughter, and gather up the arms Of my
companions, and strip their bodies of ev-
cry garment. They were hours at their
work and to me those hours were ages.
At times, when some Of them drew near
the spot where | lay l felt my heart in
my very throat, and it seemed as if |
should die of s~uffocation. Twice a small
party Of them came 30 clsse that | could
see their half naked. bideously painted
forms through the leaves and once a
single warrior stalked by me, within
reach of my rife. Up and down and
over the ground they passed and re-passed
many times, till they were evidently sat
isfed that none of the dead or the wound
ed had escaped their notice. They then
drew off in a body along the bank of the
river, where they remained for hours-in
fact, till late in the day-when, being
Joined by the rest of their companions,
who bad probably made a long journey
in pursit of the fugitives, they repaired
to the boats.
With a feeling of thankfulness which |
cannot express, | heard them put off from
the shore, and every sound gradually die
away to silence. And yet, shortly after
there came an awful revulsion of feeling;
for | know felt that | was alone-alone
IN the wilderness-afar from friends-so
crippled that | could not walk-could
only nov my body in fact, by a great
effort-sufferiug all the time the most ex.
circulating agonies, and in danger of per-
ishing from starvation. Had | been able
to move about, even though ever so slow
ly aud feebly, | could have rejoiced in
my good fortune but situated as | was,
l felt that an o%verruling Providence,
such as had so far preserved me, could
still save me from even a more horrible
doom than l had escaped.
AS | thus lay on my back, in a position
which had scarcely been changed fer
more than twenty hours, | looked up
through the leaves, and to my surprise [
might almost say JOY, beheld a raccoon
in the act of descending the trunk of a
large tree, some of whose branches even
canopied the spot where | lay. Was this
poor animal a messenger of hope2 Had
Providence directed it hither for my pres,
ervation? [ fancied so them almost
fancy so still. At all events, l cautiously
raised my only remaining friend, my RI
tie, took a quick but certain aim, and
fred. The ball sped to it's mark, ard the
animal dropped dead within a foot Of me !;
and as l raised myself among the limbs,
with the intention of dragging myself to
it, | was startled by hearing a human cry.
Fearing the Indians had 0 all gone,
| hastily reloaded my rife, and then re.
NAMED perfectly still. trembling at the
thought Of what | might next behold, but
determined to sell my life dearly, and
shoot the first human figure | should see
approaching me. Presently | heard the
same loud, startling cry repeated, but this
time much nearer than before. Still I
kept silent, my rife firmly grasped. for /
could recognise nothing like the voice of
one of my race. Again l heard the same
singular sound, but still nearer vet. and
a rus:ling among the underbrush, appa.
rently at a distance Of twenty yards. I
now cooked my rifle and poised it, re-
solved to shoot the first object that should
appear, till my heart had beer made to
leap for JOY, by the u~tterance of words,
in my own tongue, which fell clearly and
distinctly upon my ear, and assured me
1t was a countryman, perhaps a compan-
ion.
Who are you ? where are you? For
Gods sake, speak T. cried the voice.
now gave an answering shout; and
soon | was gratited by the sight of a hu
man figure, pushing rapidly through the
bushes, whom notwithstanding his bag.
gard and blood-stained features, | at once
recognized as Peter Brent. On getting
sight of me, he stopped, and exclaimed,
My God! Captain Benham, is this YOU ?
How did you escape? ] thought l was
the only being left alive by the butcher
ing wretches p
Alas! !" | returned. II am as good
as dead for | am badly Wounded in my
hips, and cannot walk a stapTi
"See!" he rejoined, . Inl no better off
both nv arms are broken and I've no