Three savages, two of whom were steeped in gore, lay at
a small distance, with the traces of recent life on their visages. Hard
by was the girl, venting her anguish in the deepest groans, and
entreating relief from the new-comers. One of the company, on approaching the girl, betrayed the utmost
perturbation. "Good God!" he cried, "is this a dream? Can it be you? Speak!" "Ah, my father! my father!" answered she, "it is I indeed." The company, attracted by this dialogue, crowded round the girl, whom
her father, clasping in his arms, lifted from the ground, and pressed,
in a transport of joy, to his breast. This delight was succeeded by
solicitude respecting her condition. She could only answer his inquiries
by complaining that her side was bruised to pieces. "How came you
here?" --"Who hurt you?" --"Where did the Indians carry you?" --were
questions to which she could make no reply but by sobs and plaints. My own calamities were forgotten in contemplating the fondness and
compassion of the man for his child. I derived new joy from reflecting
that I had not abandoned her, and that she owed her preservation to my
efforts. The inquiries which the girl was unable to answer were now put
to me. Every one interrogated me who I was, whence I had come, and what
had given rise to this bloody contest. I was not willing to expatiate on my story. The spirit which had
hitherto sustained me began now to subside. My strength ebbed away with
my blood. Tremors, lassitude, and deadly cold, invaded me, and I fainted
on the ground. Such is the capricious constitution of the human mind. While dangers
were at hand, while my life was to be preserved only by zeal, and
vigilance, and courage, I was not wanting to myself. Had my perils
continued, or even multiplied, no doubt my energies would have kept
equal pace with them; but the moment that I was encompassed by
protectors, and placed in security, I grew powerless and faint. My
weakness was proportioned to the duration and intensity of my previous
efforts, and the swoon into which I now sunk was, no doubt, mistaken by
the spectators for death. On recovering from this swoon, my sensations were not unlike those which
I had experienced on awaking in the pit. For a moment a mistiness
involved every object, and I was able to distinguish nothing. My sight,
by rapid degrees, was restored, my painful dizziness was banished, and I
surveyed the scene before me with anxiety and wonder. I found myself stretched upon the ground. I perceived the cottage and
the neighbouring thicket, illuminated by a declining moon. My head
rested upon something, which, on turning to examine, I found to be one
of the slain Indians. The other two remained upon the earth, at a small
distance, and in the attitudes in which they had fallen. Their arms, the
wounded girl, and the troop who were near me when I fainted, were gone. My head had reposed upon the breast of him whom I had shot in this part
of his body. The blood had ceased to ooze from the wound, but my
dishevelled locks were matted and steeped in that gore which had
overflowed and choked up the orifice. I started from this detestable
pillow, and regained my feet. I did not suddenly recall what had lately passed, or comprehend the
nature of my situation. At length, however, late events were
recollected. That I should be abandoned in this forlorn state by these men seemed to
argue a degree of cowardice or cruelty of which I should have thought
them incapable. Presently, however, I reflected that appearances might
have easily misled them into a belief of my death. On this supposition,
to have carried me away, or to have stayed beside me, would be useless. Other enemies might be abroad; or their families, now that their fears
were somewhat tranquillized, might require their presence and
protection. I went into the cottage. The fire still burned, and afforded me a genial
warmth. I sat before it, and began to ruminate on the state to which I
was reduced, and on the measures I should next pursue. Daylight could
not be very distant. Should I remain in this hovel till the morning, or
immediately resume my journey? I was feeble, indeed; but, by remaining
here, should I not increase my feebleness? The sooner I should gain some
human habitation the better; whereas watchfulness and hunger would
render me, at each minute, less able to proceed than on the former. This spot might be visited on the next day; but this was involved in
uncertainty. The visitants, should any come, would come merely to
examine and bury the dead, and bring with them neither the clothing nor
the food which my necessities demanded. The road was sufficiently
discernible, and would, unavoidably, conduct me to some dwelling. I
determined, therefore, to set out without delay. Even in this state I
was not unmindful that my safety might require the precaution of being
armed. Besides, the fusil which had been given me by Sarsefield, and
which I had so unexpectedly recovered, had lost none of its value in my
eyes. I hoped that it had escaped the search of the troop who had been
here, and still lay below the bank in the spot where I had dropped it. In this hope I was not deceived. It was found. I possessed myself of the
powder and shot belonging to one of the savages, and loaded it. Thus
equipped for defence, I regained the road, and proceeded, with alacrity,
on my way. For the wound in my cheek, nature had provided a styptic, but
the soreness was extreme, and I thought of no remedy but water, with
which I might wash away the blood. My thirst likewise incommoded me, and
I looked with eagerness for the traces of a spring. In a soil like that
of the wilderness around me, nothing was less to be expected than to
light upon water. In this respect, however, my destiny was propitious. I
quickly perceived water in the ruts. It trickled hither from the thicket
on one side, and, pursuing it among the bushes, I reached the bubbling
source. Though scanty and brackish, it afforded me unspeakable
refreshment. Thou wilt think, perhaps, that my perils were now at an end; that the
blood I had already shed was sufficient for my safety. I fervently hoped
that no new exigence would occur compelling me to use the arms that I
bore in my own defence. I formed a sort of resolution to shun the
contest with a new enemy, almost at the expense of my own life. I was
satiated and gorged with slaughter, and thought upon a new act of
destruction with abhorrence and loathing. But, though I dreaded to encounter a new enemy, I was sensible that an
enemy might possibly be at hand. I had moved forward with caution, and
my sight and hearing were attentive to the slightest tokens. Other
troops, besides that which I encountered, might be hovering near, and of
that troop I remembered that one at least had survived. The gratification which the spring had afforded me was so great, that I
was in no haste to depart. I lay upon a rock, which chanced to be shaded
by a tree behind me.