Still, horrible as these objects were to those near enough to discover the frightful discrepancy between their assumed and their real characters, the arrangement had been made with so much art that it would have deceived a negligent observer at the distance of a hundred yards.
After carefully examining the shores of the island, June pointed out to her companion the fourth soldier, seated, with his feet hanging over the water, his back fastened to a sapling, and holding a fishing-rod in his hand.
The scalpless heads were covered with the caps, and all appearance of blood had been carefully washed from each countenance.
Mabel sickened at this sight, which not only did so much violence to all her notions of propriety, but which was in itself so revolting and so opposed to natural feeling.
She withdrew to a seat, and hid her face in her apron for several minutes, until a low call from June again drew her to a loophole.
The latter then pointed out the body of Jennie seemingly standing in the door of a hut, leaning forward as if to look at the group of men, her cap fluttering in the wind, and her hand grasping a broom.
The distance was too great to distinguish the features very accurately; but Mabel fancied that the jaw had been depressed, as if to distort the mouth into a sort of horrible laugh.
"June!
June!" she exclaimed; "this exceeds all I have ever heard, or imagined as possible, in the treachery and artifices of your people."
"Tuscarora very cunning," said June, in a way to show that she rather approved of than condemned the uses to which the dead bodies had been applied.
"Do soldier no harm now; do Iroquois good; got the scalp first; now make bodies work.
By and by, burn 'em."
This speech told Mabel how far she was separated from her friend in character; and it was several minutes before she could again address her.
But this temporary aversion was lost on June, who set about preparing their simple breakfast, in a way to show how insensible she was to feelings in others which her own habits taught her to discard.
Mabel ate sparingly, and her companion, as if nothing had happened.
Then they had leisure again for their thoughts, and for further surveys of the island.
Our heroine, though devoured with a feverish desire to be always at the loops, seldom went that she did not immediately quit them in disgust, though compelled by her apprehensions to return again in a few minutes, called by the rustling of leaves, or the sighing of the wind.
It was, indeed, a solemn thing to look out upon that deserted spot, peopled by the dead in the panoply of the living, and thrown into the attitudes and acts of careless merriment and rude enjoyment.
The effect on our heroine was much as if she had found herself an observer of the revelries of demons.
Throughout the livelong day not an Indian nor a Frenchman was to be seen, and night closed over the frightful but silent masquerade, with the steady and unalterable progress with which the earth obeys her laws, indifferent to the petty actors and petty scenes that are in daily bustle and daily occurrence on her bosom.
The night was far more quiet than that which had preceded it, and Mabel slept with an increasing confidence; for she now felt satisfied that her own fate would not be decided until the return of her father.
The following day he was expected, however, and when our heroine awoke, she ran eagerly to the loops in order to ascertain the state of the weather and the aspect of the skies, as well as the condition of the island.
There lounged the fearful group on the grass; the fisherman still hung over the water, seemingly intent on his sport; and the distorted countenance of Jennie glared from out the hut in horrible contortions.
But the weather had changed; the wind blew fresh from the southward, and though the air was bland, it was filled with the elements of storm.
"This grows more and more difficult to bear, June," Mabel said, when she left the window.
"I could even prefer to see the enemy than to look any longer on this fearful array of the dead."
"Hush!
Here they come.
June thought hear a cry like a warrior's shout when he take a scalp."
"What mean you?
There is no more butchery! -- there can be no more."
"Saltwater!" exclaimed June, laughing, as she stood peeping through a loophole.
"My dear uncle!
Thank God! he then lives!
Oh, June, June, you will not let them harm him?"
"June, poor squaw.
What warrior t'ink of what she say?
Arrowhead bring him here."
By this time Mabel was at a loop; and, sure enough, there were Cap and the Quartermaster in the hands of the Indians, eight or ten of whom were conducting them to the foot of the block, for, by this capture, the enemy now well knew that there could be no man in the building. Mabel scarcely breathed until the whole party stood ranged directly before the door, when she was rejoiced to see that the French officer was among them.
A low conversation followed, in which both the white leader and Arrowhead spoke earnestly to their captives, when the Quartermaster called out to her in a voice loud enough to be heard.
"Pretty Mabel! Pretty Mabel!" said he; "Look out of one of the loopholes, and pity our condition.
We are threatened with instant death unless you open the door to the conquerors.
Relent, then or we'll no' be wearing our scalps half an hour from this blessed moment."
Mabel thought there were mockery and levity in this appeal, and its manner rather fortified than weakened her resolution to hold the place as long as possible.
"Speak to me, uncle," said she, with her mouth at a loop, "and tell me what I ought to do."
"Thank God! thank God!" ejaculated Cap; "the sound of your sweet voice, Magnet, lightens my heart of a heavy load, for I feared you had shared the fate of poor Jennie.
My breast has felt the last four-and-twenty hours as if a ton of kentledge had been stowed in it.
You ask me what you ought to do, child, and I do not know how to advise you, though you are my own sister's daughter!
The most I can say just now, my poor girl, is most heartily to curse the day you or I ever saw this bit of fresh water."
"But, uncle, is your life in danger -- do you think I ought to open the door?"