THE REMAINS OF THE LOG HOUSE

In obedience to the instructions of the dying Indian guide, Fred left the trail and pursued a northern route.

Traveling along the trail was bad, but finding away through the woods was impossible.

Fred realized this when the party had traveled for several hours through the dense forest. From the position of the sun he could tell what time of the day it was, yet he knew, too, that they had not covered more than a mile. There were creeks to cross, swamps to circumvent, fallen trees to avoid, and difficulties of all kinds.

At noon the three held a council and considered what to do.

“The guide was right in saying that we cannot travel through the woods on horseback,” Fred began; “I fear we must get rid of the steeds.”

“But how are we to walk through this mass of entanglement,” Agnes asked. “We certainly won’t make headway without the horses.”

“Agnes is right,” Matthew ventured to say. “I don’t know where we are going, but I do know that on foot we will not get anywhere. So let’s keep the horses.”

“I fear you are right,” Fred meditated, “but I am sure the horses won’t benefit us.”

Suddenly Agnes exclaimed: “I know what we are going to do! We’ll get back to the trail, and follow that to the next settlement. Samowat said that the Indians are south of us. Very well by this time they may be west of us, and we might escape them since we go east. Let’s try it; at least then we know where we are going.”

“I am in favor of it,” Matthew replied; “if we are attacked, we can fight; but who is going to fight with conditions as we find them in this dense underbrush.”

After some delay Fred gave in, and so the three adventurers turned the heads of their horses south, and after a few hours found the trail which they had left in the morning.

Quickly they pushed east, spurring on their horses who by this time were quite exhausted.

They traveled until dusk, and they were about to leave the trail and hide in the woods when suddenly Fred’s steed neighed.

“What’s the matter with you?” the boy reproved his horse. “You will never get any oats if you make such a noise like that.”

To his great horror, however, the neighing was answered by another horse at some distance.

“It’s time for us to hide!” Fred cried. “Away into the woods! The Indians are coming.”

Fortunately they found a deep ravine in the woods were they could conceal the horses.

“You stay here, till I come back,” Fred said. “I will see who they are.”

“I am coming along,” Agnes ventured; “you cannot go alone on so perilous a mission.”

“Stay back,” the lad urged her; “this is a job for one man.” But the girl would not listen, and so the two stole along the edge of the ravine hiding themselves as best they could.

Near the trail they climbed a huge tree from which they could look down conveniently.

In a short time they saw a horse, followed by several others. They were loaded heavily, and Fred saw at once that this was a troop of Indians carrying supplies.

In fact, he could not see a single warrior, for ugly women and children followed the train.

“The Indians are marching west,” Fred whispered to his sister, “this is a troop of women and children. That means that the warriors are ahead of them. We are lucky to be informed of their movements, because we can now follow a definite course.”

Agnes nodded, as she intently looked upon the passing horses and people. The women and children were in a jolly mood, and did not make any efforts to keep silence. For about half an hour the Indians were moving along the road.

Suddenly Agnes gave a start, and nimbly as a squirrel she slid down the huge tree, were she crept silently through the brush.

Soon Fred heard the hooting of an owl, and he perceived how at this cry one of the Indian girls, of the age of Agnes, detached herself from the crowd.

“It is time for me to join,” he muttered to him self; “Sister cannot attend to that alone.”

In a few moments he was near enough to hear what the girls were talking about. The girl was one of the Sunday school scholars whom Agnes had befriended by many acts of kindness.

“Pequots –­go –­west,” she said to Agnes; “will go around big bend south and come back and take settlements. ‘Little bird of the woods’ go to big log house, and take boat and tell white men at Hartword. But quick, I must go.”

In a few moment she was off, treading softly over the grass and joining the other Indians, as if nothing serious had happened.

At once Agnes stood by her brother’s side.

“The path is clear, Fred,” she breathed to “now for the horses; we are not far away from the trading post.”

They reached the log house just as the sun was setting, but as they approached, Matthew emitted a cry of despair.

“The Indians have burned down the log house,” he said sadly. “The smoke is still breaking through the woods.”

Cautiously they made their way through the woods, and soon stood beside the remains of their log house, where during the previous year they had spent so many happy hours.

“What a pity,” Agnes said; “so this is the fruit of war and hatred.” Tears welled into her eyes.

“And our Sunday school classes have become our enemies, no doubt,” Matthew reflected; “all of love’s labor is lost.”

“War destroys, and peace builds up,” Fred spoke calmly; “we must expect all this, and more. The end is not yet.”

“What do you mean?” Agnes asked as she watched her brother’s furrowed brow. “Do you expect trouble?”

“The Indians who burned this log house, are not far away,” he whispered to her. “We must try to get to Hartford before they detect us.”

“Let’s talk it over quickly,” Matthew suggested who in hours of danger was always impatient.

“Yes, let’s do that,” Agnes assented; “we’ll hide our horses in the deep woods along the river. I know a fine place, where we may conceal ourselves.”

“How about our boat?” Matthew asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if we go to Hartford by way of the river?”

“Pst,” Fred warned him, “you and Agnes are talking too loudly and excitedly. I am afraid that these woods have ears, as the Dutch say. Let’s get away from here.”

Fred was right. The children had not seen the Indians who, hidden behind the trees, observed every movement they made. So of this they were unaware, and in a moment they disappeared in the thick bush, drawing their horses after them.

The Indians did not disturb them, for they knew that they could not escape, though they were not many in number, since they constituted only a scouting party, left behind the main body which had moved west to come back from the south and thus surprise the white men.

As soon as the children had hidden their horses, they sought a small cave which they had discovered the year before, and here they held a council.

“First,” said Fred, “let us kneel down in prayer; for if the Lord will not guide our thoughts, we shall never escape.”

They prayed fervently, as people do who are in great trouble, and closed their devotion with a Lord’s Prayer in unison.

“And now you wait here, till I return,” Fred said; “but don’t make any noise. I must find out whether our boat is still here.”

He slipped away from them, carrying his rifle, but avoiding every possible noise.

“How clever Fred is!” Matthew said; “I wish I could be like him. But I fear I can never overcome my fright on expeditions such as these. I was not born to be a soldier.”

Agnes smiled.

“The Lord has wisely not made all people alike,” she said; “some He wants to be soldiers, other ministers, and others statesmen. Each has his peculiar gift. But oh, how I wish that I had been born a boy! I don’t mind this at all.”

Matthew looked at her with surprise.

“Aren’t you, too, a bit afraid?” he asked her “It seems to me as if you really enjoyed this kind of frolic.”

Agnes looked at him seriously. “Indeed,” she said, “I do not, for I hate war. War is of Satan, and peace is of God. It is dreadful that People should kill each other, and this for the sake of money and gain. Had these Indians been treated kindly, they never would have gone on the war path. But the English traders deceived them, and the Dutch incited them to blooodshed. So here we are!”

“It is a pity,” Matthew said; “and what a fine Sunday school we had! The children could sing, and praise Jesus as well as the white people. There is no reason why they should not be true Christians, every one of them. It is the fault of the white men, as you say. I deeply regret that there are rascals who disgrace our religion.”

Agnes did not answer. Her eyes were riveted to the entrance of the cave where she anxiously watched the fading light of day.

“It is getting to be night,” she said, “and I am hungry as a bear. I wish Fred would come.”

“I wonder where he can be,” Matthew said wearily; “this business of waiting doesn’t strike me as a very opportune thing just now. If I had my way, I would be running like a rabbit, until we were back at Boston. And never will I leave that place again! We did wrong in not obeying our parents.”

Agnes looked at him reprovingly. “That does not solve our problems now,” she ventured. “I, too, wish we were back, but we are here now, and we must make the best of it. But oh, if only Fred were here.”

“Let’s go and look for him,” Matthew broke in.

“No,” Agnes replied, “we must stay and wait. They also serve who only stand and wait.”

Yet she also became tired as the moments crept on slowly and wearily. Darkness covered the cave, and she could hardly see the opening any more.

“Matthew,” she whispered as she walked forward, “you remain here with the guns. I will go and look for Fred. It is dark now!”

In a moment she was gone, while Matthew almost wept for anguish of heart. Yet he had learned to obey both Fred and Agnes, though he was older than they. There was something indescribably firm in their voices and conduct which he never could understand, and often he himself wondered what made him stand in awe of them.

Just now he bitterly reproved himself for not having followed Agnes.

“She is a girl and you are a boy,” he scolded himself; “but she is a heroine, and you are a coward. How could you let her go alone!”

He waited impatiently, but neither Agnes nor Fred returned.

Overcome with fear, he knelt down in prayer, for he was a very pious boy.

“Good Lord,” he prayed, “help Fred and Agnes and me, and let us not perish in this wilderness. Show us a way to escape out of this trouble that we may praise Thy glorious name. Help us for Jesus’ sake.”

Then as the dreary hours passed slowly and monotonously, his strength gave way, and he soon was fast asleep.