AGNES’ STORY AND HARTFORD

“We must not stay,” the girl said, as soon as she had greeted her brothers. “The Indians will surely come back, and we must reach the other side of the river. I am glad you are here. Oh, how good the Lord is! I prayed for your deliverance ever since I was captured, but did not believe that the good Lord would hear my prayers and grant my request so soon.”

“What do you want to do?” asked Fred.

“Tie the horses together, and swim the river. There are no Indians on the other side, and we can make Hartford easily.”

“How do you know that?” Matthew asked.

“Don’t ask foolish questions,” the girl pleaded; “help me get these horses roped together. Then I will leap into the river with the end of the rope tied to my saddle, and the horses must follow. You bring up the rear.”

She was so resolute that the boys did not resist, but did her bidding.

“But where did you get that fine Indian pony?” Fred asked when the work was done.

“No questions, until we are on the other side,” Agnes said; “that belonged to a Pequot chief once; now it is mine by right of spoils.”

She mounted her pony and at once drove it into the stream; the other horses followed, urged on by the showers of blows which Fred and Matthew gave them. The crossing was dangerous, for the river was wide and the current swift. But after much struggling they got across and spurred their mounts up the bank.

“There is a trail that leads north,” Agnes said; “let’s find it. Loose the horses, and let me ride ahead.”

“What a wonderful girl she is!” Matthew exclaimed; “she is a veritable leader.”

Soon the boys heard the hooting of an owl, and they whipped their horses into a trot. Agnes had found the trail.

“Come now,” she admonished them, “we must do some fast riding, until we are safe. Then I will tell you my story.”

For two hours they rode in silence, Agnes taking the lead on her piebald pony which was a wonderful traveler in the woods, much more clever and docile than their own horses.

Sometimes the trail was hard to find, but the Indian pony followed his sense of smell and walked on and on.

“We are making good time, thanks to my pony,” Agnes said jubilantly. “Come on with your steeds, gentlemen; don’t mind it, if they are a little tired.”

However, the horses were showing signs of fatigue, since they had not eaten for two days.

“Very well,” Agnes said; “look!”

The river made a sweeping bend, and from the high bank they could see the fort.

“Hurrah!” Matthew cried; “how good it is to see the dwellings of white men.”

“We shall rest now,” Agnes suggested, “and allow the horses their meal. Look at my pony; isn’t it a wonder? And it was gotten by just a little trick.”

“Yes, tell us the story,” Matthew begged.

“Not until the fire is burning, and the meat is cooking, and the horses are eating!” the girl said with a roguish smile.

Soon the log fire blazed brightly, and the horses were tied to ropes, enjoying the rest and the grazing abundantly.

“Where did you get that meat from?” Fred asked; “why, you have stacks of it.”

“All Indian meat,” the girl laughed; “spoils of war.”

“Oh, tell us the story,” Matthew asked again.

“Wait, until we are eating.”

Afterwards, while they were sitting around the fire with the juicy meat stuck on bits of wood, and eating as if they had fasted for a week, Agnes told her story.

“You see,” she began, “I ventured out very bravely, but I made the mistake which others made, and did not look out for the Indians.”

“Your brother is guilty,” Fred smiled; “the same fool head rests on us both. We are flesh of one flesh.”

“Well,” the girl went on; “the first thing I felt, were two arms around me, and then a band which pinned my hands together. A rude hand was thrust before my mouth, so that I could not cry out. The Indians then carried me up the bank, and brought me to the camp, where they quartered me with the women, quite comfortably, but nevertheless a prisoner.”

“Just my story,” Fred interposed, “only they did not trust me with the women.”

“You don’t belong there either,” Agnes said; “they might have made you marry one of their number.”

They all laughed while Fred shook his head.

“Never in my life,” he affirmed.

“But where did the women come from?” Matthew queried. “I thought it was a scouting party, consisting only of men.”

“That is true,” Agnes explained; “but the scouting party was supplemented by other Indians from across the river. That is the reason why I urged you to cross the stream. The Indians are all over the other side, headed for the south where they are going to unite and attack the white men conjointly. I heard it all, for the women spoke about it, not knowing that I understood the Pequot language. It is always good to know many languages.”

“That is true,” Matthew agreed; “and if we get out of this, I am going to study all kinds of languages, until I am a regular Babel. That’s the way.”

“Go on with your story, Agnes,” Fred urged her; “you just finished chapter one, and I am anxious to hear the rest. The reader is always looking for the climax.”

“There is no climax to my story,” Agnes smiled; “it is all the wonderful grace of God which freed me. You know, the women were very impolite. After I had been lying in the tent for some time, trying in vain to sleep, for the bands were cutting into my flesh and causing me much discomfiture, the women all left the tent and went out where a huge fire was burning and the men were eating. In fact, the men had eaten, for they were as impolite to their women, as these were to me. Well, the women went out to eat, and I thought that I ought to have some meat, too.”

“So you stole away and got some,” Fred interrupted. “That is just the way I acted.”

“No, I did not,” Agnes replied; “I was too firmly bound for getting away. But while I was thus lying in the tent, feeling miserable, suddenly a young Indian girl came in, who addressed me in the Pequot language. Talk about Indian ingratitude! When the war is over; I am going to locate right here, and start a huge Indian school, and invite them all to Sunday school every Sunday. Why, it pays wonderfully to teach the Indians religion!”

“That is what I believe,” Matthew joined in; “I am going to be an Indian missionary like the good Pastor John Eliot. We must not destroy the Indians, but save them.”

“That is true,” Fred joined in; “and in order that you two missionaries may continue your work and not starve, I am going to build up the trading post again, and you shall be my guests as long as you live, and whatever expenses you have, I will repay.”

“We shall hold you to your promise,” Agnes replied, “shall we not, Matthew?”

“Not one word shall he have spoken in vain,” Matthew said. “He must pay every cent. But now continue with your story.”

“This good Indian girl,” Agnes said, “had attended our Sunday school, and she was very grateful. Silently she cut my fetters and freed me. Then she told me to escape. It was not yet quite light, and so no one noticed me, as I lifted the rear part of the tent and crept through. But that was not all. My dear benefactress led me herself, and in order that I might not starve, she showed me the Indian kitchen, where large supplies of meat were kept, smoked sufficiently to keep it from spoiling. After I had taken all I could carry, she showed me where the horses were, and urged me to take the one belonging to the chief, since it was clever and gentle. At first I had compunctions of conscience, but no choice was left me, and I had to do it. I made a rude bridle of birch bark, and jumping on the horse, came here just a little before you.”

“But what about the Indians?” the boys asked; “where did they go?”

“The girl told me,” Agnes replied; “they were on their way west to join the other Indians, having received orders to come as soon as possible.”

“Then we would have been safe on the other side!” Matthew stated. “Why was it necessary for us to cross? I am all wet from the task.”

“There are many stray Indians on the other side,” Agnes replied; “but, no doubt, they will soon be gone; the whites are gathering their forces together, and then they will strike a speedy blow. But now we had better move on.”

They tied the horses together, and after a while found a place where they could cross the river. They arrived safely, much to the surprise of the settlers who had gathered at the fort, which was filled to its capacity so that the stockade had to be enlarged to accommodate the fleeing settlers that left their homes in haste when they heard of the hostilities of the Indians.

A number of outrages had been perpetrated already, and the pioneers were lashed into fury over the horrid tales which were related.

Our three friends were received with open arms; no one manifested greater surprise than John Rawlins, who had gotten as far as Hartford, where he was confined to his bed by a severe attack of rheumatism, which made him as helpless as a child. He had now recovered sufficiently to limp about, but he was still in a bad shape so that he could not be of much service to any one.

“Your presence here will make me well in a short time,” he exclaimed joyfully as he embraced the children. “And I am sure you have a real story to tell.”

But how great was his surprise when he learned from the children the war plan of the Indians. Why, that is real news, for which we have been looking all this while. We were all interested in what the Indians would do. Tomorrow you must go to good Captain Mason and relate to him what you know. That will greatly help him in freeing the country from the Indian pest.

“Yes, tomorrow,” said Agnes; “for tonight we are too tired, and the matter does not press.”

For the first time after a long, long trip they slept as white men do, in real beds, protected by American soldiers.