The Dead Shot—The Bee Tree—Amy a Prisoner in the Hands of the Indians—Drake and Rolla in Pursuit—A View of the Hudson.

That night Drake and Amy had a long and confidential talk. The next morning, the party, accompanied by Rolla, started for the tree, which was standing at the junction of the Steneykill and Shinglekill.

As they approached the banks of the Steneykill, Rolla placed his nose to the ground, barked and ran in the woods. Cahoonshee cast his eyes to the ground.

What track is that? pointing to an indenture in the ground. My eyes begin to fail me.

That is the print of a moccasin, said Drake.

Is it a Salamanque? ejaculated Cahoonshee.

I think not, said Quick. It is a new track to me. It is neither Salamanque or Delaware. Here, Drake, look at it with your young eyes.

Drake got down on his knees and examined it for several minutes. Then rising, called Rolla.

Cahoonshee, said Drake, did you ever see the print of a moccasin worn by a Stockbridge? If my memory serves me right, the print was made by one of the tribe that stole me from my parents. For what purpose are they in these parts?

Cahoonshee then examined the tracks.

It is many years since I have seen a Stockbridge or their tracks, but I think Drake is right. You fell the tree, and Rolla and I will follow the trail and learn their number. You, Quick, go to the top of the bluff and keep a good lookout for the enemy, for such I take them to be. You boys plug the hole and chop the tree down.

Tom climbed the tree, carrying with him a quantity of moss dipped in tar, and plastered it over the hole, thus effectively preventing the bees from coming out. Then returning to the ground, he and Drake went vigorously to work to chop the tree down.

About this time Cahoonshee returned and reported that there were five Indians in the party, and were going towards the Mongaup.

The party now proceeded to smother the bees, by smoking them with brimstone. This was soon accomplished, and several pails were filled with honey, then the party started to return.

As they were crossing the Shinglekill about half a mile from the cabin, Rolla gave three loud barks and jumped towards Drake.

That is the bark the dog always gives when he sees or hears Amy, said Tom.

And here, said Drake, is the moccasin track again. I fear that this forbodes trouble for those we left in the cabin.

Look to the priming in your guns, and be quick. There is no time to lose, said Cahoonshee.

This was a dark and adventurous day for Amy. When the party left in the morning, she began to realize how lonesome she would be without Drake. Although she claimed that Walter Wallace owned her whole heart, and none but him should ever call her wife, yet to part from Drake, even for a short time, gave her pain. She began to doubt her constancy for Walter, and admitted to herself that Drake occupied a small corner of her heart. Yet she was determined to be cheerful, and that the parting between her and Drake should be of an affectionate character. To that end, she put on her blue flannel dress, decked herself with flowers, braided her long, flowing hair, over which she placed her gypsy hat, and took a chair beside Betsy to await their return. She had hardly seated herself, when she heard the squirrels chattering in the butternut trees in front of the cabin.

I am going to shoot one of those squirrels, she said to Betsy.

Oh no, child, don’t hurt them.

I won’t hurt them, aunty, I will kill them so quick that they won’t feel it; and taking her gun, stepped out of doors. There were several squirrels in the tree, but she chose the highest. At the report of the gun, the squirrel’s head dropped to the ground, but the body remained in the tree. She felt proud of the shot, and darted up the tree. When she had nearly reached the top, her attention was drawn to the woods on the north bank, and nearly in line with her mother’s grave. There lay, crouched in the bushes, five Indians in full war dress. She thought that this meant mischief, but how to avert it she did not know. She first determined to load her gun, and shoot the first one that approached her. Then she thought that this would enrage the Indians, and they would kill and scalp both her and Betsy. Then she thought that perhaps they meant no harm, and had come only to get something to eat.

Oh! how I wish Drake and Cahoonshee were here. Perhaps they will carry me off, and who can find me? Drake will if possible. And picking up a piece of charcoal, wrote on the door what she had seen and what she feared, describing the Indians, their dress paint and feathers. She had just finished the writing, when the Indians came in the door. The leader advanced and said:

Pretty squaw—good shot—bring squirrel’s head down—leave body in tree. Make me good squaw—shoot my deer—cook my corn.

Amy, although she understood every word he said, pretended she could not understand him, and made signs to that effect.

Time is precious, said one in the rear. Cahoonshee will soon be upon us.

This convinced Amy that the Indians knew that the men were not at home and might soon return. If she could detain them, perhaps Drake would arrive. She offered them something to eat. This was refused. Then the Indian that first approached her, drew from his belt some deer-skin strings. Amy read her doom. She was to be bound and carried off. As resistance was useless, she came to the conclusion to quietly submit.

She then made gestures that she would go with them without tying, but the wily savages would not permit that, but tying a thong around her neck, ordered her to march.

Betsy had been a silent and interested spectator of the scene that had passed before her. Amy had informed her in Dutch what she supposed the Indians intended to do with her.

Tell Drake that I am going to Kingston ahead of him, that I have been taken by the Indians—the same tribe that stole him when he was a babe.

Here she was cut short and forced from the house. The Indians gagged and tied Betsy fast to her chair and left her.

Their course was north-west, and Amy resolved to go willingly and escape at the first opportunity. The Indians said but little, but that little she understood perfectly, and soon learned the object of the Indians’ visit to that section. It was not to capture her, but Drake. That a ship was at Kingston, and they wanted Drake to sell to the Captain, that the young brave at her side was a son of the Chief of the tribe, that he saw her when she came out of the house, dressed like a queen, with the gun in her hand. He saw her aim at the squirrel and the head fall. He saw her climb the tree with the agility of a squirrel, and resolved to take her to his tribe and make her his wife—the queen of his lodge.

Amy was satisfied that her friends would pursue and rescue her if possible. She understood the instinct of the dog, and knew that Rolla would find their trail and follow it.

The Indians moved with all possible speed, but Amy was equal to the emergency. They crossed the ridge about half a mile north of Hawk’s Nest, and bent their way towards Mongaup River. It was dark when they reached the River, and here, for the first time, the Indians changed their tactics, and endeavored to hide their trail. Two of the Indians took hold of Amy’s hand, one on each side, and stepped in the cool waters of the Mongaup, and started up stream.

Amy was well acquainted with all the rivers and streams, having accompanied Tom and Drake on their fishing excursions after the speckled trout, in which the river abounded, but the forest was so dense and the night so dark that she could not locate the spot. After wading through the water for about two hours, they turned into a gulch of the mountains through which a small stream flowed, the Indians being particular that every step should be in the water, so as to leave no trail. In their ascent, they were required to climb over falls five and six feet in height. Thus they traveled in total darkness for an hour, when a familiar sound struck Amy’s ear. She heard the roaring water and surging cataract. She knew the sound and could locate the place as easily as she could by daylight. It was Bushkill Falls, a narrow, deep glen, with rocks ascending on both sides several hundred feet high. The Falls are in sections, and drop about two hundred feet. The largest, at the bottom, is forty feet, and drops into a basin below. It is seventy-five feet in diameter, and is alive with trout. To the right of the basin is the much dreaded snake den—the largest ever known. Here, at any time between May and November, the rattler and copperhead are to be found, in May when they go out, and November when they go in, and can be counted by the hundreds. All kinds of snakes burrow together in harmony during the winter. The green snake of twelve inches and the blacksnake of twelve feet lie side by side, locked in the cold embrace of frost.

At the foot of the Falls, and at the margin of the basin, the Indians encamped. The outlet of this basin was by two small streams. By removing a few stones on one side, and making a small dam on the other side, one of the brooks is dried up. The Indians did this and caught a number of large trout. Then they rubbed two ash sticks together and started a fire, and roasted the fish.

Thus, Amy partook of her first meal in captivity. During the eating of the meal, a conversation was carried on between two of the Indians, in which she learned that she was to be carried to a cave on the east side of the Hudson, and detained there until she consented to become his wife. She immediately came to the conclusion that this was the same cave that Drake was imprisoned in when a child. How could she communicate this fact to Drake? She was reclining on her side on a large flat rock. Taking a small stone, she noiselessly wrote on the flat stone:

“Going to the cave from whence you came. Amy.”

Then the march was resumed up the Falls and almost in sight of Cahoonshee’s cabin. Then up the Steneykill and over Handy Hill to the Neversink River.

It is not our intention to describe the route or the incidents that took place on their way to Kingston. Suffice it to say that Amy was treated with respect by the one who expected to make her his wife.

But two incidents occurred worthy of notice on their march. On the day before they reached the Hudson, they were traveling on a trail that appeared to be much used. The Chief was ahead and Amy forty or fifty feet behind him, and the rest of the party were two or three hundred feet behind her, when apparently from the highest tree, the shrill voice of the tree toad was heard. Amy raised her eyes to the tree and thought to herself:

“That is Drake’s imitation of the tree toad. But if it is, I shall hear the blue jay scream.” And without slackening her pace, passed on.

Just after the rest of the column had passed, the familiar sound of the blue jay was heard. By this Amy knew that her friends were near. But how they could extricate her, she could not see, and hoped that Drake would put it off until after she had reached the cave.

They did not travel on the direct trail, but kept west on the ridge, and whenever they came to a stream of water, traveled in that, so as to leave no trail.

In the middle of the afternoon, from the top of a high mountain, the Hudson River came into view, and in the centre lay one of the large ships that Amy had heard Cahoonshee often describe.

Here Amy and her Indian lover were left. The rest went on to the river to steal a canoe or build a raft, on which to cross the river. They soon found a canoe large enough to carry them all over and three of the Indians carried it to the place agreed upon to meet, and the fourth one walked toward Kingston Point.

It was now dark, but full moon, and objects could be plainly seen. He soon reached a large stone house. Approaching cautiously, he discovered a large number of people in and about it. Men in uniform, and ladies dressed in the most costly fashion. The loud, shrill notes of the fiddle sounded upon the air, and nimble feet kept time to the music. He stood screened behind a grape arbor that was loaded down with the precious fruit, when suddenly a female figure appeared. At first, the Indian crouched in terror. The spirit of their captive, Amy stood before him. Could two persons be just alike? He thought not. Yet there was the same form, figure, eyes and hair.

She must have escaped. I’ll retake her, then she will be mine.

He approached her as silent as a cat, threw his blanket over her head, clasped her mouth with his hand and bore her away unobserved and laid her apparently lifeless form in the canoe.

In a few minutes, Amy and her Indian captor arrived and took seats in the canoe and started on their journey across the Hudson, where we must leave them for the present, and return to Walter Wallace.