Haverland kissed his child, but made no further reply, and all relapsed into a stillness, and ceased further conversation. There was something in the gathering gloom around, something in the peculiar situation in which they were placed, that imparted a despondency to all. The boat was still fastened to the shore, and the time for loosening it was close at hand. Mrs. Haverland had passed within the rude cabin, the door of which remained open, while Seth and the husband remained in the stern. Ina sat near at hand, and had fallen into the same silence that rested upon the others.
"Doesn't it look dark and awful back there?" she asked, in a whisper, of Seth, pointing toward the shore.
"It does somewhat, I think."
"And yet I wouldn't be afraid to go back to the house."
"You'd better stay in the boat, young 'un."
"You think I am afraid, do you?" she said, bounding out the boat to the shore.
"Ina! Ina! what do you mean?" asked the father, sternly.
"Oh, nothing; only I want to take a little run to ease my limbs."
"Come back here instantly!"
"Yes—oh, father! quick! quick! come take me!"
"Seize the oar and shove out!" commanded Seth, springing into the water, and shoving the boat off.
"But, for God's sake, my child!"
"You can't help her—the Injins have got her. I see 'em; drop quick, they're goin' to fire! Look out!"
At that instant there was the sharp crack of several rifles from the shore, and several tongues of fire flamed from the darkness, and the wild yell of a number of Indians pealed out in horrid strength.
Had it not been for Seth all would have been lost. He comprehended every thing in an instant, and saved the others.
"Oh, father! mother! The Indians have got me!" came in agonized accents from the shore.
"Merciful God! must I see my child perish without heeding her cry?" groaned Haverland, in spirit.
"No, they won't hurt her, and we must take care of ourselves while we can. Don't stand up, for they can see you."
