Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 4, October 1841Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 4, October 1841
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Again the little party embarked, and hope began to beat strong in their
breasts. They pushed on with renewed energy, and at length their eyes
rested on the little island of Hockanum. It is always a sweet spot to
look upon, but never did it appear so beautiful to any eye as it did to
them on that night when they could just discern its dim outline.
“You are safe, Eliza, you are safe!” cried William.
But the savages below, growing fearful of being baffled in their
pursuit, were pressing on with all their strength; and the furious
Wawhillowa, in the foremost canoe, was continually urging on his men,
while he stood in the prow with his eyes eagerly strained into the dim
distance beyond.
“We are safe!” cried William; but at the moment a bullet whistled close
by his head and gave the lie to his exclamation.
As soon as the canoe touched the southern extremity of the island,
William sprang on shore, and hurrying out the females, all three
hastened to the tent of Shaomet. The old man had been in waiting for
them, and, as soon as they entered, pointed to a corner of the wigwam,
where lay a heap of fagots and a number of skins which he had prepared
as a means of concealment should concealment become necessary. William
quickly led Eliza to the spot, and placing her behind the fagots threw
the skins over the top. While he was doing this, the yells of the
Indians grew louder and more terrific, for they had now gained the
island, and were certain of their prey. William had scarcely turned away
from the corner where Eliza was concealed, when the door was thrown
violently open, and the savage features of the Nonotuck chief glared
full upon his face. Quick as thought the rifle of Shaomet was in
Russell’s hand and levelled full at the Indian’s breast.
“Hold, hold!” cried Tahattawa, “your promise—your oath!” and she
snatched at the rifle. It was too late. William had already fired, and
the tall form of Wawhillowa fell heavily to the ground. The poor girl
turned mournfully away, and, covering her face with her hands, burst
into a flood of tears.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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