The National tribune., 1902-10-02

Il was mlndthg that, lad. He's sigu
I'm ne'er prone 10 previcate the truth by
saying can read. But I'd fain know how
the old chap here fares"
With these words the Forester bent ovel
to examine the, wound Of the stranger
who had not moved since he had been
placed in the bottom Of the canoe. White
he was doing this Stark continued to send
the light craft rapidly with the current OF
the stream, himself glancing ever and anon
} toward the dark wall of forest rising con
tinual on their right hand. The woman
} remained quiet. her mind busy with the
thoughts of fer, fearful experience. and nc
cape.
'.He carries d Bit o. lead in his body thai
it may ne'er be easy to trail, seeing it's
red lead, and the reds do have a knack o
sending their lead in most amazing ways
But | do not believe he is bound on his
long trail. and when I've dressed the
bark, lad! the Chief calls. He's on hand
as usual. Ay. his eye neer fails: his foot
ne,er tires: his tongue is ne'er forked; and
if his skin he as dark as the curtains o !,
wolf-keep his natur' is white. Run into
the shore Just below the bend. and III
not previcate the truth in saying that he'll
be on hand to join u.s."
John Stark had heard the signal of the
lSokokis Chief. and as the canoe rounded
the point of land made by bend in the
lstream he discovered the figure Of the
friendly Indian standing under the cover
of the growth. AS the canoe glided in
toward the bank of the river he stepped
lightly aboard, greeting the little party
with a simple 'hOwa!'
"HOw floats the stick, Chief?" asked
the Forester without looking up from his
task of wiping away the blood from the
wound of the urfor.nnate man with the
lint he always efied with him. The
Forester possessed the natural faculty of
using both tongue and hand at the same
time. 1T be an ugly rent" he mused.
without waiting for the reply he had
sought, land the lead do show that it had
been chawed as moose chaws the wood he
cares not to eat. Nows me, with him lay
ing thusways." giving the body a slight
turn. Il can strike the trail in more
preferable way. The lead do lay hnndier'n
| in my conceit thought possible. and ham
dier still does it lay. as | pinch it tween
my fingers he concluded. holding the bull
let up to the gaze of his companions.
Philip. with Indian roliteness. had wait
ed for the Forester to finish his speech
before he replied to the question asked of
him. John Stark had resumed his use of
the paddle. so they were once more moving
rapidly down the stream, as he said:
''The Ameriscoggins are abroad in the
woods like leaves, but the SOkokis laughs
at them while he finds his white friends. ;"
Your foot is light. Chief and your
eye ne'er sleeps. Dost think the painted
lpagans will trail us here?' asked the bor-
der surgeon. while he staunchcd the flow
of blood with more lint. ard then carefully
bound the bleeding orifice with soft-tanned
idocSkin. which, as well as the lint, he car
ried with him. Few were the scouts. if
any. of that day who did not thus 20 pre-
pared for such an emergency as this. And
I yntI It,ipbt nf l,a s1r of this I1 u
have fe.t proud of the attention he had
given this gunshot. occupying less than
five minutes during the time he was doing
liz. III
'The traibthat follows the water leaves
no scent replied the Chief. Whittier
goes TacOnichT pa
1T be to me, mores the shame. a blind
TRAIL replied the Forester. resuming his
old position in the stern of the canoe. 1T
be our first concern to see this twain yon
the brown fingers that itch for their scalps.
| AIcbbe, seeing the man fails in the knack
to take the tongue trail, though l do be-
lieve he he waking like a child from n
troubled sleep. this woman. who has scarce
let fall a word, will unfold speech that
may be a sign to lead us out o the will
derness o this amazement."
| Thus directly appealed to, she said:
/ There is so'much i'm my mind that do
not know what To say or think. 1t is n
terrible blow which has fallen on me- and
as far as l know / am all there is left Of
our family. Our name is Shepley. and we
were living in fancied security in the vi
cinity of the Great Meadow when an
alarm of an Indian uprising reached us.
| About II years ago we lost our little boy,
then four years old. by a party of In
dians, so we have always felt nervous
about them. We got ready to take such
things as we could by boat down the riv-
| TO 1hn haI tba
bank Of the river, our daughter. Mary.
happened to think of something. she had
| forgotten, so she started back after il bA
fore John, my husband, or l could stop
her. She had not been gone many min
utes before we heard Indian yeils, and
/ feeling that she had fallen into thei:
hands, John ran back to see if he could
not rescue her. leaving me by the boar.
but telling me to start down the stream if
he did not return within few minutes.
''Soon after he left me / heard the re-
ports Of guns. and l knew he had been at
tackled by the Indians. and was having
a hard fight with them. OF course, ought
to have started away at once. but l wait
ed little in the vain hope that John or
Mary might somehow get away from the
Indians. SO before l left the place / was
surprised by large party of the savages
and made n captive. Then | was taken
up this way by my enemies through
trackless wilderness. / have seen nothing
of John or Mary, and what their fate has
been | dare not try to think. Finally
somewhere the Indians captured this poor
man, and he has been under charge of the
same Indians that seized me. My husband
and daughter are no doubt killed, and
myself without home, am heart-brok-
en-"
"Aweel, nOws me-" said the Forester,
lit be hard fate. but I've seen sorrier
trails. IL | read the sign Alright l have
perambulated the woods with John, and
he was necr n man who'd let red finger
his topknOt while there was a grain o.
powder in his horn. There be no counting
the knots in the string twisted by red
hands but the Chief. here, mebbe, has
thought to trail"
Philip know John, tOo," said the So
kokis. John good hunter. Maybe white
mother remember Philip"
Philip SOkOkis! is this you? Can it be
possible? Why, you have eaten at our
cabin many u time, Philip. l am glad to
see you"
| Phillip glad to see kind mother. He re-
members the daughter-the forest lily.
He glad to tell mother that he hear of
daughter"
"rhen you have tidings of Mary, Phil
ip?" she said, joyously "Tell me of her."
| "Philip cannot tell much Plausawa
say two women so North with Ameris-
coggins to ST Francis. One young, pref
lty, like lily: f'other much older, not pref
ty. One mothers Mary, Philip think
| Il know not whether this be good news
1 or ill. Howl shudder for her fate Poor