Not a bit of it, she replied. I wish that one of the red-skins would steal me. That would be romantic indeed. And to think that you and the whole ship’s company would be hunting after me. That would be what the sailors call a stern chase, and then she disappeared behind the arbor.

Instantly a blanket is thrown over her head, and she is carried, she knows not where.

She supposed it was a trick got up by Walter to scare her, and to carry out the joke, submitted willingly, and it was not until she found herself laid in the bottom of a canoe that she awoke to a sense of danger. She now realized that she was in a boat of some kind, sailing on the water.

CHAPTER XVI.

The Bee Hunters—Drake and Rolla on the Trail—Call of the Tree Toad—Answer of the Blue Jay.

We left Drake and the two Quicks on the Steneykill, returning with honey. When they discovered moccasin tracks and heard Rolla’s peculiar bark, they became alarmed for the safety of those at the cabin, and hurried forward. Rolla rushed ahead and commenced an uncommon continued howl.

That is a new howl, said Drake.

And has a new meaning, replied Cahoonshee.

They hurried forward and Rolla continued to howl.

When they approached they saw Rolla stretched out at full length on the ground, and the cat Walt lay dead by his side with an arrow through its head.

The Great Spirit have mercy on those at the cabin, exclaimed Cahoonshee.

The cabin was soon reached, and there sat Betsy tied to her chair. She was soon released and the parties informed of the capture of Amy by the Stockbridge Indians.

Drake was much affected, and tears ran down his cheeks.

Fear not, we will save the girl, said Cahoonshee. You three take the dog and go in search of the trail. Follow it as long as it goes west, but if it turns east, send one of your number to me.

Drake and the Quicks shouldered their guns and started, Rolla taking the lead, and soon found the trail, which went nearly due west, toward the Mongaup.

It would seem that the Indians made no effort to conceal their trail, which for a long time puzzled the pursuing party. The sun was now down, and the darkness of the night over-shadowed the forest. Yet, Rolla with perfect confidence followed the trail until they came to Mongaup River.

Here the hunters found themselves baffled. They went two miles up on the east side of the River. Then crossing, searched back to the point where they commenced, but failed to find any sign of the trail.

Then they resolved to return to the cabin, fill their knapsacks and renew the search in the morning.

After the hunters left, Cahoonshee went out and shot some rabbits, and with their brains preserved the skin of the cat Walt.

It was after midnight when the hunters returned. They informed Cahoonshee of the finding of the trail and losing it again at the Mongaup.

You lost time in searching down-stream, he said. They went up the River until they found a small stream, then they followed that to its source. But somewhere between where they reached the River and Mongaup Falls, they had to leave the River and pass over land. They may have gone up the Bushkill as far as the Falls. But there they would be compelled to leave the stream. Fill your knapsacks, and at sun-rise start for the mouth of the Bushkill. Follow it up to the Falls. From there go to my cabin on the Steneykill, where I will meet you.

As soon as the day broke, Drake, Tom and Rolla started, and were at the mouth of the Bushkill at sun-rise. Rolla seemed to understand the object of the search, and applied his nose to every stone that lay above the water. He had not been gone long before he gave three loud barks.

He has the trail! Drake fairly screamed.

But Rolla was soon out of sight and was not heard again for some moments. Then he was heard again and continued barking until Drake and Tom came up to him at the foot of the falls.

It was evident that they had found the trail. There was the remains of their camp fire, strewed with fish bones.

What is that? said Tom, pointing to a small rock that leaned against the side of the mountain.

That, replied Drake, is Amy’s writing:

“Gone to the cave from whence you came. Amy.”

That is plain. Let us go up the Falls and over the ridge to Cahoonshee’s cabin.

They found Cahoonshee and the elder Quick at the cabin, and a warm breakfast prepared for them.

Cahoonshee was informed of the finding of the trail and the course it took.

There is but one more thing to learn, he said. They will cross the river at Kingston. From here to Kingston there are three trails. The first is the old Kingston trail. But they will not take that, as there are white settlers every few miles, and they would not take their captive that way. The other trails are farther west and are seldom traveled. It will take them two days longer than if they went by the Kingston trail. We must try and get to the Hudson ahead of them. The whites are thickly settled there, and we can get all the assistance we want.

Now, Drake, you, Tom and Rolla take their trail and follow it until you can determine which route they have taken. Then go direct to the Yah House, and Quick and I will meet you there.

The boys were soon on the trail and followed it across Handy Hill, then across the Neversink, then north, until they struck the western trail leading to Kingston.

At this point they left the trail and took a north-easterly course to the Yah House, where they arrived late in the evening and found Quick and Cahoonshee there.

It was then determined to travel direct on the Kingston trail and head the Indians off before they reached the river. If they failed in this, to push forward to the cave.

We shall not stop to describe the incidents that happened to the travelers from the Yah House to Kingston. Suffice it to say that they traveled as fast as Cahoonshee’s health would permit. When within ten miles of the Hudson River, they struck north-west, and after going about two miles, Rolla gave the usual signal that he had discovered where Amy had walked.

They followed the trail about four miles to a stream that emptied into the Hudson, and here the trail was lost. The party divided and followed down both sides of the stream until they reached the river, but no trail was found.

Cunning dogs! exclaimed Cahoonshee. They have waded up or down stream. But they will have to come to the shore somewhere. They can’t wade across the river. They will have to steal a canoe or build a raft. They have probably gone down stream. Let us follow them.

The sun was just setting, and dark clouds threatened a storm from the south-west. A vivid flash of lightning lit up the forest and river. Rolla sprang into the air and gave the usual three barks.

The dog either sees or smells something, said Cahoonshee. Look on the river when the next flash comes.

Then came a gust of wind that bent the trees nearly to the ground, which was followed by continuous lightning, and which lit up the river from shore to shore. About a thousand feet from the shore was plainly to be seen the canoe containing Amy and her captors.

Our chase is in vain, said Cahoonshee. The canoe cannot float long in that stream. It will drive them on the rocks at the head of the island. Let us build a raft and renew the search as soon as the storm is over.

CHAPTER XVII.

The Storm—Buried in the River—Old Shell to the Rescue. Which is Which and What is What.

The Indians had scarcely left the shore when the storm broke upon them in all its fury. The canoe had capacity for but six in still water. With its present cargo, it sank to the gunwale.

The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, and the waves ran mountain high. Earth, air and water seemed to be striving for the mastery. The little canoe was tossed about on the surging foam like an egg shell in a boiling caldron. The occupants realized their danger, yet remained cool and collected and patiently awaited their doom. At last the Chief said:

We must leave the canoe. Perhaps with none on board but the women it will float.

There was a small rope attached to one end of the canoe held by a toggle. He caught this and jumped into the river, followed by the other four.

Amy saw at a glance that she had it in her power to free herself and escape from the Indians. What could be easier than to pull the toggle and cast the Indians adrift. Then her conscience checked her.

That would drown them, and that would be murder. But life, liberty and self-preservation soon overruled conscience. She pulled the toggle and the Indians were adrift.

Springing to her feet, she applied the paddle, going, where she knew not—cared not—if she could get away from the savages.

Once, and once only, did she look back, and by the lightning’s flash saw them struggling in the rolling swell.

Shell was sitting in his cabin door, smoking his pipe, and listening to the roar of the elements, when a flash of lightning revealed to his view a canoe making its way to the rift of rocks. At the second glance, he saw a person manfully working a paddle.

Zounds! That chap, whoever he is, has got good stuff in him. But I guess he don’t know the points of the compass. That course will carry him on the rocks. He will be drowned, and the canoe dashed to pieces. It is but little Old Shell can do, but I will do that little.

Taking a brand from the fire, he lit a pile of pine knots that was piled on the beach. Suddenly the wind turned to the north east, and this made the situation of the canoe still more dangerous.

On—on it came—first on the crest of a wave, then hid from sight in the bottom of the swell.

Pull to the west! Pull to the west! cried Old Shell. But the sound of his voice was drowned by the incessant slash of the water. Nearer and nearer the fatal rock is approached. The canoe is raised on the top of the crest, and as the water recedes, it strikes amidships and is broken into fragments. The next wave drives the wreck and occupants ashore. Shell stood ready, and caught them before the undertow could carry them back. Taking one under each arm, he carried them into his cabin and laid them down before the fire.

The girls were wet but not seriously injured, and were soon on their feet.

The reader must remember that, although Amy knew that another person had been added to their number, she had not seen Cora until her face was revealed by the light of the fire.

The first glance amazed her. She saw in her the likeness of herself as plainly as if she had looked in a glass.

Cora was equally astonished, and for the time doubted her own identity.

Neither of them seemed to be inclined to speak, or rather each of them was waiting for the other to say something. This surprised the old man, who had relit his pipe, and was puffing away in the corner.

He commenced:

I say, gals, I suppose that this is new quarters for you. But, sailors say “any port in a storm.” But I guess this a safer place than the one you were being tossed about on out there on the rocks. But you are safe now, and in the morning I will take you on shore. It was lucky for you that I was at home, and I did not get home any too soon. If I had stayed at the Judge’s any longer I could not have got home before morning.

What Judge’s do you mean, my good man? said Cora.

I mean Judge Hasbrook. They had a dance there last night, and the Admiral’s daughter got lost, strayed or stolen. All the people were looking for her, but she could not be found. Men on horses were sent out on every road. The marines were ordered from the ship to scour the woods, but it was no go. They could not find her. They said that she was a good, but dare-devil of a girl, and there was no telling what she might do. Some of the scouts returned and reported that about the middle of the afternoon, four men, with a black dog was seen about two miles from the Judge’s house, and they feared the girl had been stolen by them.

Amy could scarcely control her feelings on hearing this, but did not think it wise to state who she thought the party were.

The girls were now standing in front of the fire drying their clothes.

Girls, said Old Shell, you smoke like musk rats drying in the sun. I think you had better change your clothes.

I have no others, said Amy.

Nor I, rejoined Cora.

Be easy as two that, replied the old man. I have them, and think they will fit exactly. I have not always lived alone. I once had daughters that were as smooth-faced as you are, and as pretty as you appear. I have their clothes here, (pulling out a large chest.) See if these clothes will fit.

The girls, both from interest and curiosity, stepped toward the trunk.

Here, said the old man lifting a garment out of the trunk. Here is a shir—shir—what do you call it? Well, it is a shir-shirt.

The girls blushed, and the old man noticed it.

Here, girls, you go through the trunk. It is so long since I have had anything to do with women’s-ware, that I have forgotten their names and how they are worn. There are two red flannel dresses that look exactly alike. Put them on, and while you are fixing up, I will go out and look at the river.

The old man walked to the head of the island. The storm had ceased, and the moon was shining brightly. The waves continued to roll over the rift and dash against the rocks. Something appeared on the rift that had the appearance of being a human being. On examination, there appeared to be several of them all huddled in one mass. No signs of life were visible, and the waves continued to pound their bodies against the rocks.

When the old man returned, he found the girls dressed in red flannel suits, white aprons, blue stockings and gaudy hats, trimmed with white and yellow feathers.

By jingo, he exclaimed. If you two girls wasn’t run in the same mould, then I am no judge of human nature. Gosh darn it! If you don’t look so much alike that I can’t tell which from which.

You are in error there, my good man. We are no relation. I never saw this girl until I saw her here, remarked Cora.

How is that you both came on shore in the same boat and at the same time?

That is so. Yet I never saw her before.

Where do you belong, and how did you get in her company. This is a mysterious mystery that I can’t unriddle. Hang me if I don’t believe that you are two witches.

Oh no, my good man, we are not witches. I belong on board of the Reindeer. I am the Admiral’s daughter—the dare-devil of a girl you described. The one the marines were scouring the country to find. Yes, I am Cora Powers.

Powers! exclaimed Amy excitedly, but said nothing more, yet thought much.

The old man remained silent a few moments, then said:

How came you in the canoe?

I was carried there by some one. I thought it was Tom and Jack, supposing that the Lieutenant had told them to throw a blanket over me and carry me off. For that reason I made no resistance, and lay in his arms quietly as a babe on its mother’s breast. In fact, I enjoyed it, and when I lay in the boat, I thought that I would be taken on board of the Reindeer, and rather enjoyed it, to think how surprised they would be when they learned that I could not be scared. When I was doused in the water, I took it as a kind of a sailor baptism, and I don’t know yet what to make of it.

I don’t think, said the old man, that your friends had anything to do with your departure.

And if they didn’t, who did? asked Cora.

The Indians, replied Amy.

What? Do you mean that I was carried off in the arms of an Indian and laid in the canoe?

I do, said Amy. I saw it with my own eyes.

Cora was silent for a few moments, then said:

Then I have been stolen by the Indians and didn’t know it. There is no romance about that, and I am the one who has been fooled. I have a good notion to faint. I would if there was some one here to prevent my falling.

Young woman, this is no light affair. If they stole you they meant to take your scalp or make your friends pay well for your ransom. But what became of them? Are they prowling about now?

Amy turned her face away to hide her confusion, but the old man noticed it.

I think, he said, that this girl knows more about the Indians than she is willing to tell. Tell us, girl, where you last saw them.

Amy remained silent, dreading to tell where she last saw them, knowing that it would lead to other questions.

Speak, as you value your life, said the old man. The storm is over, and they will soon be down upon us.

Amy replied:

There were five of them, and they belonged to the Stockbridge tribe.

Stockbridge Indians! exclaimed Shell. Then we must expect no mercy, but must prepare to defend ourselves, rising and seizing his gun that stood in the corner.

This will stop one or more of them.

Have you another gun? inquired Amy. If so, I will stop another.

Here, said the old man opening a closet, is half a dozen guns, and I will load them all.

Let me load them, said Amy.

Do you know how?

Amy took up the guns and loaded them in half the time the old man could.

There. I have loaded them all, and if they come, I can shoot them.

Are you the daughter of a hunter? asked old Shell.

I am the daughter of no one, but I know how to load and shoot a gun.

But you have not told us how you came to be in company with the Indians.

Tell us girl, let us know the worst, and then we can act for the best.

Amy replied:

Those Indians stole me from my home on the Shinglekill, and were taking me to Stockbridge, and just as we were starting to cross the river, they stole this girl. A storm arose, and the Indians jumped into the river to lighten the canoe, and that is the last I saw of them.

If they got ashore anywhere, it must have been on this island. I will take my gun and go out on the raft and look.

And I will take another and go with you, said Amy.

And I will take the rest and shoot them all at once, said Cora.

All parties being armed and equipped for the emergency, they marched for the spot. It was low water, and the rocks were bare for several hundred feet above the island.

You wait here, said the old man, and I will climb out on the rocks.

I see the Indians!—I see them! exclaimed Cora excitedly.

Where?

There! pointing.

The old man looked, and saw the same objects that he saw when he was out before, and raised his gun.

Don’t shoot! They are all dead now. The life has been pounded out of them on the rocks.

Don’t you believe that, girl. They are only playing possum, and will go for your scalp at the first opportunity. Some of them may be on the island now.

I see five, and there were but five. Let us go a little closer said Amy, starting, and followed by the old man.

At every step the forms of the dusky Indians became more visible.

Careful, girl, careful. We have a treacherous foe to deal with.

We have the dead, and the dead only to deal with, replied Amy. They have gone to the Indian’s last hunting ground.

The rock was reached, and there lay the bloated bodies of the five Indians. They had caught hold of each other’s hair and around the waist.

Drowning men catch at straws, said the old man.

They had taken hold of each other for protection, and all had drowned in each other’s embrace.

But where did this rope come from that is wound around them? asked Shell.

Amy kept silent. She knew too well where the rope came from.

Well girls, it is rather early in the morning for a funeral, but I think we had better bury them now.

Where? asked Cora.

In a sailor’s grave he said. And taking his knife, cut the tangled rope loose, and one by one, he threw them into the River to be food for the fishes.

The parties now returned to the house.

Stay here, girls, and keep a good watch, and I will go toward the lower end of the island. Some of them may have landed lower down. The dog would swim ashore.

What dog? asked Amy.

The dog that was seen with the Indian that stole this girl, pointing toward Cora.

Amy felt embarrassed for some moments, and then said:

My good man, I will tell you all I know about the Indians. I have told you that they stole me at the Shinglekill, in the country of the Cahoonshees. I had friends who followed me, and with them was my faithful dog Rolla. It was that party that was seen by the party that went in search of this girl, and they are all dead. To lighten the canoe, they took hold of the rope that you saw about their bodies, and jumped overboard. I pulled the toggle and cast them adrift. You know the rest.

Brave girl, said the old man seizing Amy’s hand. There are five less of the murderous dogs. I wish that the whole tribe had been tied to that rope. Girls, I have not always been what I now appear to be. I once had a wife and a happy home. The first year of our marriage, she became the mother of twins. They grew up to be young ladies. On my return home one night, I found my house burned, and my wife and daughters dead and scalped. The Stockbridge Indians did it. I could not live in that desolate home where so many things reminded me of former days. I removed to this island. The clothes you have on and the clothes you see in the trunk were once worn by those I loved. But the Indians robbed me of all. Stealing was their business. Years ago they stole an infant on this very island almost from its mother’s arms, and from that day to this, Captain Davis has mourned the loss of his child. Rewards have been offered and search made among all the tribes, but no child found. It probably died soon after it was stolen, as it had a mark on its breast that would have led to its discovery if living.

What was the mark? asked Cora and Amy at the same time.

A ship, and the letters C. D. on the top, and E. N. on the bottom. If you belong on board of the Reindeer, you should have heard them speak of their child.

I have, repeatedly, replied Cora. And to-morrow we intended to start for the Delaware Valley in search of him. Lieutenant Wallace was to be in charge of the searching party.

Amy turned pale and staggered back. That name brought to her recollection the days of her childhood. Her father, mother, and her home on the Callicoon.

Both Cora and the old man noticed her emotions, and the struggle she was making to suppress them.

You are a brave girl, said old Shell, but you haven’t got the timber in you to stand the strain that you have been subjected to. You had better go to bed and get some rest, and in the morning I will take you on board of the Reindeer. Right in there is a good feather bed made by the girls whose dress you have on. Go in there, and I will watch over you as I would over them.

The girls retired, and Cora was soon in a deep sleep. Not so with Amy. Her thoughts were on Walter Wallace. It was plain to her that the child mentioned by the old man was Charles Drake. That many a time she had looked at the mark on his breast, and it was just as the old man had described it. But who was this Lieutenant Wallace that was going to the Delaware Valley to look for Drake?

Is this my Walter? Oh, wish I knew his first name. This girl at my side can tell me. I will ask her.

Miss Powers! Miss Powers! Miss Powers.

A-h-a-h—What do you want?

Will you tell me the first name of Lieutenant Wallace who is going to look for the lost child!

Oh you go to sleep. What have you got to do about that?

I only wanted to know Mr. Wallace’s given name. Tell me that, and then you can go to sleep again.

And if I refuse, what then?

Then you will be very unlady-like, said Amy.

This stung Cora, and she replied:

His name is Walter Wallace, and he came from a place they call Callicoon.

Amy sprang from the bed and ran into the old man’s room followed by Cora.

Look out for that girl! She is mad—crazy—insane! She is as mad as a march hare! She wants me to tell her the name of every-body on the ship! Look at her eyes—see her bosom swell! I tell you she has lost her reason.

Little bird, said the old man, placing his hand on her head and looking into her eyes, tell me what causes this emotion?

She is mad! replied Cora.

Lady, I am not mad. Amy Powers is not mad, but knows all, and in time will explain all.

Amy Powers! exclaimed Cora. Is that your name? Was your father’s name Thomas? and your mother’s name Mary? and did you live on the Callicoon?

So she continued to ask questions, not stopping to give Amy an opportunity to answer.

Bang!

What is that? asked Amy.

That is the sun-rise gun on the Reindeer, replied the old man.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Hunt—The Fatal Shot.

On the discovery that Cora could not be found, it was surmised that she was playing one of her pranks, and she would soon leave her hiding place and return. But as the night advanced, it was learned that four men and a dog had been seen in the neighborhood. This raised the suspicion that she had been kidnapped, and a general search was ordered. Men on horse-back were sent to examine every road and house for twenty miles around, and a file of marines were ordered to search the woods. But at sun-rise the next morning, nothing had been learned of her.

Captain Davis ordered a strict lookout from the mast head for any parties that might be seen crossing the river, and a boat manned and in readiness to pursue any craft that might appear.

When Drake and his party saw the Indians disappear in the darkness of the night, they supposed that the storm would drive them back. In the meantime, they were at work securing material to build a float on which they could cross the river. But the storm seriously interfered with their work, and it was not until the sun rose the next morning that they were prepared to cross the river.

The river at this point was about one mile across, and they started to cross one mile above the island. The wind was in the east, and the float made slow progress. The strong ebb tide carried them down stream so that they barely cleared the rift, and placed them nearly east of the island. Rolla sniffed the wind from the island and goes to the rear of the float and whines.

The dog winds something on the island, said Cahoonshee.

But he hasn’t given the Amy bark, replied Drake.

Bang! went a gun on board of the Reindeer, and a cannon ball came skipping over the water, passing directly ahead of the float.

What does that mean? inquired Drake.

That means stop, replied Cahoonshee.

Rolla gave three barks, sprang into the water, and swam toward the island.

That is the Amy bark, exclaimed Drake. Let us paddle after him.

Put down the paddle, boy, or they will blow us out of the water.

Bang!

The ball is seen ricocheting on the water in a direct line with the float, and struck the end of one of the forward logs, and knocked off a sliver that struck Cahoonshee and carried him overboard. Quick caught him by the hair and pulled him back.

Don’t move a paddle, he said. If you do, the third shot will tear us to pieces. But just keep still and we are safe. See, they are coming after us, and then they will tell us what they want. Perhaps they will take us on board of the ship.

By this time the ship’s boat had nearly reached the float. Walter stood in the bow with his sword drawn. Lieutenant Powers was at the helm, and between them stood a company of armed marines.

Keep quiet, said Cahoonshee, I will answer all questions.

Who commands this float? inquired Lieutenant Wallace.

I do, replied Cahoonshee. What is your wish?

We have orders to bring you on board of the ship.

By whose orders?

By the orders of Captain Davis.

Captain Davis shall be obeyed, said Cahoonshee.

Then hand in your guns and consider yourselves prisoners for the present.

The guns and other articles were placed in the boat. Cahoonshee stepped on board and was conducted to the stern. The Quicks were seated at mid-ship, and Drake at the bow.

I think that we have met before, said Cahoonshee to Lieutenant Powers.

I think not, replied Powers.

You was a mere boy then—the son of Admiral Powers.

Was you acquainted with my father!

Before the question could be answered Cahoonshee fainted. Drake instantly sprang to his assistance, but was restrained by the sailors.

Gentlemen, said Drake, I do not know for what crime you have shot this old man, but I beg of you to let me take care of him. See—he is dying. Let me hold his head.

This appeal touched the sympathies of the officers, and Drake was permitted to go to his assistance.

What caused this wound on his head? asked the Lieutenant.

The shot from the ship, replied Drake.

They were now along side of the ship, which was something new to Drake. He was still holding Cahoonshee’s head, who gave some signs of returning consciousness. Still the blood continued to flow from his wound.

He spoke:

Boy, tell the Captain that I am Cahoonshee. Show him the mark on your breast. My time has come.

Evidently he intended to say something more, but dizziness prevented.

The ship is reached and Cahoonshee is carried on deck, and then to the doctor’s room. Drake and the Quicks were taken before the Captain and questioned.

Where is the girl and dog that was in your company?

There has been no girl in our company. The dog left when you shot the old man, and is now on yonder island.

Have you any knowledge, young man, of a lady in the hands of the Indians?

Yes sir. For five days we have been in pursuit of a party of Indians who hold a young lady a captive.

Have you any knowledge of a young lady that was taken from her friends last night?

No, sir.

Who have you been pursuing?

A girl that was captured by the Indians in the Delaware Valley.

How came your dog to leave you?

I think he scented the girl on the island and went to rescue her. Perhaps the same party that stole the Delaware girl captured the girl you refer to. If so, no time should be lost. We should go to the island immediately.

Then proceed at once, said the Captain.

The boat was manned, and proceeded toward the island.

Soon after the boat left, the doctor went to the cabin, where he found Captain Davis and wife.

Captain, said the doctor, the old Indian that was brought on board is anxious to see you, and requested me to ask you to come to his quarters.

I have other duties to perform at present, he said.

The old Indian said that it was to your interest to see him—that his name was Cahoonshee.

Cahoonshee! exclaimed Captain Davis and his wife at the same moment.

He is the Indian that promised to hunt for our lost child.

This seemed to have changed the Captain’s mind, and he soon was at the side of the dying Indian.

Cahoonshee was apparently asleep—at least he did not notice the Captain, who looked on his pale face, and then said to the doctor:

Is the wound on his head fatal?

The wound on his head, replied the doctor, is of little consequence. His ailment is old age. The machine is worn out, and the loss of blood has weakened him.

Doctor, I think that Indian knows of my lost child. Do for him all you can.

Cahoonshee heard the last remark, and turned his head. The doctor and Davis were soon at his side.

At this moment Mrs. Davis entered the room. A mother’s feelings could no longer be suppressed, and taking the dying Indian by the hand, said:

Does my child live?

Yes, he faintly answered.

Where is he? quickly asked the Captain.

Cahoonshee made signs to be raised up in bed.

Where are my friends?—those that were on the float with me? Let me see them.

An officer was directed to bring Tom and his father.

Cahoonshee continued to revive, and on the arrival of his friends felt sufficiently strong to talk. He beckoned the Captain to take his hand and said:

These men are friends of your child. This one is his brother, and this one has been to him a father. They will tell you all, and then he fell back on his bed exhausted.

The Quicks were taken to the cabin, where they related the history of Charles Drake, from the time he was captured by the elder Quick on the upper waters of the Mongaup, to the present time, and that when the boat returned from the island they would see their lost child.

I have already seen him! exclaimed Mrs. Davis excitedly. It was he that you questioned about Cora!

Nothing but the mark on his breast will convince me, said the Captain.

Then, replied Quick, you will be convinced. The mark is on there—anchor, ship, with the letters C. D. and E. N. Is that your boy, Captain?

That is the way he was marked when he was stolen from his mother on the island where they have now gone.

At this juncture an officer entered the cabin and informed the Captain that the boat was approaching with two ladies on board.

CHAPTER XIX.

Mutual Mistakes.

It was difficult for old Shell to pacify Amy after Cora had mentioned the name of Walter Wallace. She was determined to go on board of the Reindeer in search of her lover if she had to swim from the island to the ship.

I have often swam farther than that through the falls of the Delaware, she said.

At last she reluctantly consented to wait until morning, and went to sleep in her chair. Cora retired to bed again, and the old man prepared breakfast, which consisted of smoked ham, dried herring, pan cakes and birch bark tea.

They had not finished eating, when Bang! went a gun on board of the Reindeer. In an instant they were all out of the cabin.

The ship first attracted their attention. Then they saw an armed boat rowing up the river. Bang! went the gun again, when they looked up the river and saw the float, with people on it.

I see, said Shell. They are shooting at a black bear. Don’t you see? He is making direct for the island. I will get my gun and stop his bearship.

Amy was herself again, and watched the bear with great interest until the old man returned with his gun.

You stay here girls, and I will go to the beach and settle him.

Amy followed him unperceived. The old man took accurate aim, when suddenly Amy struck up his gun, and the ball went over the bear’s head.

Girl, what do you mean! he exclaimed.

I mean to save the life of my best friend. That is no bear, it is my dog Rolla, and the party on the float are my friends.

By this time Rolla had reached the shore and embraced Amy with a kind of fatherly affection. The parties watched the float, and saw the people on it get in the boat and row toward the ship.

It will be remembered that the appearance of Amy and Cora was so much alike that it was difficult to distinguish between them. But now they were dressed exactly alike, and a casual observer could not tell one from the other. This will account for the mistakes and confusion about to be related.

When they saw the boat coming toward the island, the old man suggested that they had better walk to the lower end of the island, as the boat could safely land at that point.

At the time of the landing, Amy was standing on the east side of the island with Rolla by her side. Walter being ignorant of the real facts, took her for Cora. Acting under the impulse of the moment, he sprang out of the boat, and swiftly ran to her, and folding her in his arms, said:

Cora! Oh, Cora—you are safe—you are safe! I feared that we should not see you again! and he passionately kissed her.

But the girl did not reciprocate, but tried to free herself from his embrace.

You are mistaken, young man. My name is not Cora.

Walter stared into her eyes for a moment.

You say that your name is not Cora? You have lost yourself. Your reason is dethroned. You don’t know your nephew. If you are not Cora, who are you? releasing her.

They continued to look into each others’ eyes for a few moments, when a gleam of satisfaction beamed in Amy’s countenance. Her bosom heaved, and instantly she threw her arms around him, and passionately exclaimed:

I am Amy Powers—your long lost Amy. Walter! Oh, Walter!

She could say no more, and willingly remained in his arms.

Walter looked down into her sweet and agitated face a moment, and a thousand memories flashed across his mind. In his arms lay the mature woman. In her he saw the girl of his childhood—his long lost Amy. And here, locked in each other’s embrace, we must leave them, and turn our attention to other parties.

Drake jumped ashore, and saw, as he supposed, Amy, standing on the west side of the island. He ran to her and clasped her in his arms and smothered her with kisses, exclaiming:

Sister? dear sister! You are saved. I was afraid that you would be either killed or drowned.

See here young man, said Cora. I guess that you are a persistent lover, and have learned the art of hugging and kissing to perfection—not that I have any particular fault to find—in fact, I rather like it, at least I would if it was meant for me. But it is meant for that other girl. I am not Amy, my name is Cora.

Oh, Amy, Drake continued. Don’t you know me? Don’t you know your brother? Look at me Amy.

Oh, young man, I see you plain enough, and rather like your looks. But I am not your sister. I don’t know you. I never saw you before.

Oh, Amy, this is terrible. The Indians have turned your head, deprived you of reason, and caused you to forget your best friends. But you will know the mark on my breast, tearing his shirt open and bringing to view the anchor and ship.

Cora looked at his breast and the tell-tale letters on it. She saw at a glance and understood who the young man was that so firmly held her. She knew that he was the long lost child of Captain Davis. At the moment she was embarrassed and faltered as to the course she should pursue. Then suddenly throwing her arms about his neck, said:

I wish I was your sister—no, I don’t mean that. What do I want to be your sister for? I wish—well no matter what I wish. Now, young man, sit down by me, and I will tell you something you don’t know. First, I am not Amy. She is over there in the arms of her old lover, Walter Wallace.

Drake sprang to his feet.

Don’t disturb them, she said, for they have not met for a great many years and have a great deal to talk about. In the next place, my name is Cora Powers, and I am the aunt of the girl you call Amy. In the next place, you are Charles Davis, and was stolen many years ago from your mother on this island near the spot where we now sit, and your father and mother are now on board of the Reindeer.

Drake heard this announcement with amazement, scarcely believing his eyes or ears. Then he remembered that Cahoonshee had said that he should inquire for his father on board of the English war vessel. He was satisfied that the girl by his side was not Amy, not from any difference in her looks, but from her voice and actions.

Lady, said Drake, let us go and see Amy and her lover.

As soon as they appeared, Rolla bounded toward them, jumping and barking with joy.

Amy saw Drake coming, and advanced to meet him. Their meeting was of such an affectionate character that Walter was at a loss to understand it. Wallace seized Cora’s hand and congratulated her on her escape from the Indians. Amy introduced Drake to Walter, saying;

He has always been a good brother to me.

Cora drew Drake aside and said:

Mr. Davis, for now that is your name, I want to ask you one straight-forward question.

Certainly, lady, proceed.

Did you love Amy as a sister only?

As a sister only, he replied.

In Charles Davis, Cora had found her hero—one that was bold, just and generous, with just enough savage life in his exterior to interest a girl of Cora’s mind. The smothering kisses and manly embraces he had bestowed on her, although meant for another, had aroused within her a passion different from any she had before experienced. She was the pet child of a wealthy family, gay, giddy and trifling, and in one sense a flirt. Accustomed to have her own way, yet noble and high minded. Her hand had been sought by the noble of her London home, but she had repulsed them all. Why? Because in them she did not see her hero—her ideal of a man. In Charles Davis, although dressed in torn and tattered clothes, although his face was sun-burned, and had the appearance of bronze, although his home had been in the forest, and his companions savages, yet something within her heart told her that she loved Charles Davis, that he had aroused within her bosom a passion heretofore dormant, and, on the impulse of the moment intended to tell him the state of her mind and declare her love. It was for this purpose she led him aside and asked him if he loved Amy only as a sister. But his answer being so frank, “as a sister only,” disconcerted her. How unlike the fops she had been accustomed to meet in London. It then flashed across her mind that Davis was no longer the half savage, the half civilized youth of the Delaware Valley, but the son of Captain Charles Davis, a man of influence and power in the English Navy. She realized that to talk and act love that was prompted by genuine affection was quite a different thing from the every day flirtation in which there was but little sense and no heart. She therefore concluded to await the result of the meeting that was about to take place on board of the Reindeer.

When it was announced that a boat containing two ladies was approaching, all hands rushed to the deck. That Cora was one of them there was no doubt. But who could the other one be.

See, said Mrs. Davis to her husband. Cora is sitting by Walter in the bow.

Then her shadow must be reflected to the stern, said the Captain, for that is certainly Cora. But who is the young man sitting by her side?

That is the young man you questioned. That is your and my son, Captain.

The Captain placed his arm around his wife, and said:

Is it possible that this young man is our son?

The boat comes alongside, and Walter assists Amy on deck. Immediately the Captain and his wife advanced to meet her, supposing that it was Cora. Walter noticed Amy’s embarrassment.

This is not Cora. She will be on board soon.

A moment later Cora came on deck, and running to the Captain, said:

I claim the reward.

What reward? the Captain asked.

The reward you offered for the production of your son. Here he is, turning to where she supposed Drake stood.

But Drake was not there. Neither could he be seen or found on deck.

Cora was surprised, and felt hurt. She supposed he stood by her side, and intended to have the honor of introducing him to his parents, but he was nowhere to be found.

I saw a young man in the boat when you came along-side, said Mrs. Davis.

Yes, and it was your son. He came on deck with me, replied Cora.

The Captain was in a maze. He had at no time been convinced that the person alluded to by Cahoonshee was his child and this sudden disappearance raised greater doubts.

Lieutenant, said the Captain, this is very remarkable that the person said to be my son came on board, but cannot be found.

Said to be your son? exclaimed Walter. I have heard of no such person.

I have, replied Cora, and am the only one on board that knew that fact.

How do you know? inquired the Captain.

I saw the mark on his breast that I have so often heard described. He showed it to me on the island.

The decks were searched, but Drake could not be found, and amid the confusion the doctor appeared.

How is your patient? asked the Captain.

Better. He is sitting up conversing with the young man who was on the float with him when he got hurt.

That is Drake, said Cora. I will go after him, and started for the doctor’s room.

Don’t disturb them at present. The old man realizes that his end is near, and wishes to have a private talk with the boy.

The parties then went to the cabin, and Amy and Cora related in part their adventures.

Amy gave Drake’s history from the time she became acquainted with him, and was describing her mother’s funeral when Tom Jones and Jack Frost appeared bearing Cahoonshee in their arms, followed by Drake.

Instantly all voices are hushed, and a death-like silence prevailed.

Here youth and old age clasped hands. The old man was weak and trembling, and it was evident that he was making a superhuman effort to perform a promise made many years ago. Drake stood by his side holding his hand, the very picture of despair as his whole soul went out for Cahoonshee. At that moment he would have forsaken father and mother to prolong the life of him that had been his friend and foster-father.

Mrs. Davis made an attempt to go to the side of her child, but was restrained by the Captain who was doubting whether he could believe his own eyes. Whether the youth that held the aged warrior’s hand was his son.

Cahoonshee beckoned Captain Davis and wife to approach, and they advanced.

Years ago I promised to find and restore to you your child. Why I have delayed it so long, your son will explain at some other time. My sands of life are nearly run out, and my last act will be to present to you your son. Examine the mark and satisfy yourselves.

Drake bared his bosom. The Captain and wife in the same breath exclaimed:

Our child!

Captain, said Cahoonshee, take this boy. He is one of nature’s noblemen. It has been the pride and study of my life to leave behind me an example of Indian training. I think I have fixed his character, moulded his mind, and educated him in the arts and sciences far beyond what he could have learned in the schools. Lay me down.

That night Drake stayed with his parents. I shall not attempt to describe the interview. Suffice it to say that the Captain and wife were both inexpressibly happy in the society of their child. The Captain was surprised at the learning and intelligence of a boy that had been reared in the dark forest of the Delaware.

Walter spent most of the night on deck with Amy, where he related his adventures in searching for her—the trip to England, the finding of Lord Wallace, and lastly, the discovery of his and her grand-father.

Amy, nestling on his bosom, exclaimed:

Oh, Walter, how happy I am. Will this always last?

Certainly my dear. Nothing shall part us now. You will go with me to England and become queen of my house.

And leave Drake and Cahoonshee? she replied.

Walter looked into her sweet face as if to divine her thoughts.

Drake will undoubtedly remain with his father, and Cahoonshee shall be taken care of.

By whom? she asked.

Walter saw that these words meant more than they expressed, and drawing Amy still closer to him, said:

I suppose this old man has been a good friend of yours and you do not like to leave him.

He has been more than a friend. He has been a father, a protector, an instructor. What little I know, he taught me. I wish to remain with him to the last.

Your wish shall be gratified, said Walter.

We shall not attempt to follow the parties or relate their conversation at this, their first meeting. And if we made the attempt, we would certainly fail, for the most vivid imagination cannot describe the sensation of two hearts so firmly united, that had been so long separated. They were in fact “one twain, one flesh.” Their hearts beat in unison, and each of them could truthfully say:

“Mine is thine and thine is mine.”

And here in the pale moonlight of a coming morn, we must leave the lovers, and turn our attention to other characters.

Cora had, in a sense, been left alone. The others held within their embrace the object of their affection, but she was alone and lonely. The object of her affection was sitting between his parents in the cabin, relating the adventures of the past, and planning for the future. The future of that man was all the world to her. With him the future would be heaven. Without him, misery. From her room she could hear distinctly the conversation that passed between them. At last she heard him say:

Now my dear parents, you must excuse me. Duty calls me to the side of my foster-father.

She heard the good-night said, and the parting kiss bestowed. She knew that Drake was going to see Cahoonshee. I will be there first, she thought; and started through a passage way that led to the doctor’s room. On opening the door, she found Cahoonshee quietly sleeping, and Tom and Jack watching by his side.

My good men, she said, I have come to relieve you. Let me watch by the side of the dying hero.

Tom and Jack departed, and Cora was left alone with the dying man. In a few moments he opened his eyes and said:

Amy, my child, extending his hand.

This is not Amy, she said. I am Cora Powers, the daughter of Admiral Powers.

Then, replied the old man, I must be near the Spirit Land. My eyes have failed me. Bend down, child, and let me place my hand on your neck.

The old man drew his hand across her neck below the ear.

You are right, child. The mole is not there. You are not Amy. Where is she? and where is Drake?

At this moment the door opened, and Drake appeared. He was embarrassed at finding Cora there, and was at a loss what to say. But Cahoonshee knew him.

My eyes are not mistaken now. This is my boy Drake.

Yes, father, I have come to stay with you.

Cahoonshee looked at Cora.

Who is this lady if it is not Amy? It must be her spirit.

Drake then related the incidents of the day and who Cora was, the similarity between the two girls, and the mistakes that had been made in taking one girl for the other, and the meeting of Amy and her lover, Walter Wallace, on the island, and that they were together now.

Cahoonshee grew stronger, and raised up in bed.

Come here, girl, and let me look in your eyes, and read your soul.

Cora advanced to the bed. Cahoonshee took her hand and gazed into her eyes.

You have the same form and features—the same eyes and soul of Amy. You differ in name, and in name only, and he fell back on his pillow.

Cora and Drake withdrew a short distance.

I fear, said Cora, that your friend has but a short time to live.

I fear not, replied Drake, sobbing, and the tears running down his cheeks.

She took him by the hand to console him.

You loved this old man as a father?

Yes, more than a father. He has watched over me since the days of my childhood. He has spent days and nights educating me. He has periled his life to save his friends. And I came here at this time to hear his last request. I think he wants to be buried on the Steneykill.

The old man had awakened and was watching them, and saw Cora holding Drake’s hand.

Lady, he asked, could you hold his heart as tenderly and affectionately as you hold his hand?

Cora blushed, and they both went to his side.

Shall I raise you up further? asked Drake.

Yes, he replied, my race is nearly run. I will soon be in the Spirit Land. But I have a request to make before I depart. Send for Amy and the rest to come here.

Drake went to call them and Cora and Cahoonshee were left alone.

Sit by my side he said, and tell me if your hand and heart are free. Tell me whether holding that boy’s hand was actuated by pure sympathy, or whether a higher and nobler attribute springing from your heart prompted it?

Cora, true to the instincts of her nature, concealed nothing. Throwing her arms around the old man’s neck, and kissing him, said;

Father, you read my heart. How could you tell what occupied my soul?

Before she could finish the sentence, the door opened, and in walked Drake and the rest of the friends. Amy threw herself on the couch and wept as if her heart would break.

Cahoonshee roused.

I have sent for you, friends, to make my last request. Before the setting of many suns, this mortal will put on immortality. This spirit will go to the Happy Hunting Grounds. My request is that my body be buried on the Pine Knoll west of my cabin on the Steneykill.

It shall be done, said Drake and Walter at the same time.

Cahoonshee continued:

My books and writings I give to Charles Drake. My gun and other property I give to Tom and his father, and to Amy my furs.

Here his voice faltered. His eyes closed and for several minutes he seemed to be communing with the Spirits in the Spirit World. His countenance showed that it was a struggle of mental duty that he wished to perform before he shut his eyes for the last time.

Raise me up a little higher. Come here, boy. Something tells me that I have another request to make. I may be wrong.

You can’t be wrong. You never did wrong. Make your request, and it shall be obeyed. I have followed your advice through life. At death, and in the presence of these friends, I promise to revere it.

I have something to give away. It consists of mind and matter. Have I a right to give it? Heaven direct me.

Heaven will direct you, and what heaven directs must be right, replied Drake. What is it, father, that you wish to give away?

It is you, my boy, it is you. Here, Cora, taking her by the hand and extending it to Drake. Take this girl, and may heaven smile on your union. She loves you, boy, ardently, sincerely, devotedly. She is like Amy, not only in form and figure, but in mind and soul. My work is done. Lay me down.