The Indians, in their present condition, were reckless of any rifles that the blockhouse might hold, though they did retain dim recollections of its containing living beings, an additional incentive to their enterprise; and they approached its base whooping and leaping like demons.
As yet they were excited, not overcome by the liquor they had drunk.
The first attempt was made at the door, against which they ran in a body; but the solid structure, which was built entirely of logs, defied their efforts.
The rush of a hundred men with the same object would have been useless.
This Mabel, however, did not know; and her heart seemed to leap into her mouth as she heard the heavy shock at each renewed effort.
At length, when she found that the door resisted these assaults as if it were of stone, neither trembling nor yielding, and only betraying its not being a part of the wall by rattling a little on its heavy hinges, her courage revived, and she seized the first moment of a cessation to look down through the loop, in order, if possible, to learn the extent of her danger.
A silence, for which it was not easy to account, stimulated her curiosity; for nothing is so alarming to those who are conscious of the presence of imminent danger, as to be unable to trace its approach.
Mabel found that two or three of the Iroquois had been raking the embers, where they had found a few small coals, and with these they were endeavoring to light a fire.
The interest with which they labored, the hope of destroying, and the force of habit, enabled them to act intelligently and in unison, so long as their fell object was kept in view.
A white man would have abandoned the attempt to light a fire in despair, with coals that came out of the ashes resembling sparks; but these children of the forest had many expedients that were unknown to civilization.
By the aid of a few dry leaves, which they alone knew where to seek, a blaze was finally kindled, and then the addition of a few light sticks made sure of the advantage that had been obtained.
When Mabel stooped down over the loop, the Indians were making a pile of brush against the door, and as she remained gazing at their proceedings, she saw the twigs ignite, the flame dart from branch to branch, until the whole pile was cracking and snapping under a bright blaze.
The Indians now gave a yell of triumph, and returned to their companions, well assured that the work of destruction was commenced.
Mabel remained looking down, scarcely able to tear herself away from the spot, so intense and engrossing was the interest she felt in the progress of the fire.
As the pile kindled throughout, however, the flames mounted, until they flashed so near her eyes as to compel her to retreat.
Just as she reached the opposite side of the room, to which she had retired in her alarm, a forked stream shot up through the loophole, the lid of which she had left open, and illuminated the rude apartment, with Mabel and her desolation.
Our heroine now naturally enough supposed that her hour was come; for the door, the only means of retreat, had been blocked up by the brush and fire, with hellish ingenuity, and she addressed herself, as she believed, for the last time to her Maker in prayer.
Her eyes were closed, and for more than a minute her spirit was abstracted; but the interests of the world too strongly divided her feelings to be altogether suppressed; and when they involuntarily opened again, she perceived that the streak of flame was no longer flaring in the room, though the wood around the little aperture had kindled, and the blaze was slowly mounting under the impulsion of a current of air that sucked inward.
A barrel of water stood in a corner; and Mabel, acting more by instinct than by reason, caught up a vessel, filled it, and, pouring it on the wood with a trembling hand, succeeded in extinguishing the fire at that particular spot.
The smoke prevented her from looking down again for a couple of minutes; but when she did her heart beat high with delight and hope at finding that the pile of blazing brush had been overturned and scattered, and that water had been thrown on the logs of the door, which were still smoking though no longer burning.
"Who is there?" said Mabel, with her mouth at the loop.
"What friendly hand has a merciful Providence sent to my succor?"
A light footstep was audible below, and one of those gentle pushes at the door was heard, which just moved the massive beams on the hinges.
"Who wishes to enter?
Is it you, dear, dear uncle?"
"Saltwater no here.
St. Lawrence sweet water," was the answer.
"Open quick; want to come in."
The step of Mabel was never lighter, or her movements more quick and natural, than while she was descending the ladder and turning the bars, for all her motions were earnest and active.
This time she thought only of her escape, and she opened the door with a rapidity which did not admit of caution.
Her first impulse was to rush into the open air, in the blind hope of quitting the blockhouse; but June repulsed the attempt, and entering, she coolly barred the door again before she would notice Mabel's eager efforts to embrace her.
"Bless you! bless you, June!" cried our heroine most fervently; "you are sent by Providence to be my guardian angel!"
"No hug so tight," answered the Tuscarora woman.
"Paleface woman all cry, or all laugh.
Let June fasten door."
Mabel became more rational, and in a few minutes the two were again in the upper room, seated as before, hand in hand, all feeling of distrust between them being banished.
"Now tell me, June," Mabel commenced as soon as she had given and received one warm embrace, "have you seen or heard aught of my poor uncle?"
"Don't know.
No one see him; no one hear him; no one know anyt'ing.
Saltwater run into river, I t'ink, for I no find him.
Quartermaster gone too.
I look, and look, and look; but no see' em, one, t'other, nowhere."
"Blessed be God!
They must have escaped, though the means are not known to us.
I thought I saw a Frenchman on the island, June."
"Yes: French captain come, but he go away too.
Plenty of Indian on island."
"Oh, June, June, are there no means to prevent my beloved father from falling into the hands of his enemies?"
"Don't know; t'ink dat warriors wait in ambush, and Yengeese must lose scalp."
"Surely, surely, June, you, who have done so much for the daughter, will not refuse to help the father?"