In her desperate efforts, the woman pulled the body of her husband in a way to cause the head to turn completely over, when tbe small hole in the temple, caused by the en-trance of a rifle bullet, and a few drops of blood trickling over the skin, revealed the meaning of her husband's si-lence.As the horrid truth flashed in its full extent on her mind, the woman clasped her hands, gave a shriek that pierced the glades of every island near, and fell at length on the dead body of the soldier.Thrilling, heart-reaching, appalling as was that shriek, it was melody to the cry that followed it so quickly as to blend the sounds.
The terrific war-whoop arose out of the covers of the island, and some twenty savages, horrible in their paint and the other devices of Indian ingenuity, rushed forward, eager to secure the coveted scalps.Arrowhead was fore-most, and it was his tomahawk that brained the insensible Jennie; and her reeking hair was hanging at his girdle as a trophy in less than two minutes after she had quitted the blockhouse.His companions were equally active, and M'Nab and his soldiers no longer presented the quiet as-pect of men who slumbered.They were left in their gore, unequivocally butchered co rpses.
All this passed in much less time than has been required to relate it, and all this did Mabel witness.She had stood riveted to the spot, gazing on the whole horrible scene, as if enchained by some charm, nor did the idea of self or of her own danger once obtrude itself on her thoughts.But no sooner did she perceive the place where the men had fallen covered with savages, exulting in the success of their surprise, than it occurred to her that Jennie had left the blockhouse door unbarred.Her heart beat violently, for that defence alone stood between her and immediate death, and she sprang toward the ladder with the intention of descending to make sure of it.Her foot had not yet reached the floor of the second story, however, when she heard the door grating on its hinges, and she gave herself up for lost.Sinking on her knees, the terrified but cour-ageous girl endeavored to prepare herself for death, and to raise her thoughts to God.The instinct of life, how-ever, was too strong for prayer, and while her lips moved, the jealous senses watched every sound beneath.When her ears heard the bars, which went on pivots secured to the centre of the door, turning into their fastenings, not one, as she herself had directed, with a view to admit her uncle should he apply, but all three, she started again to her feet, all spiritual contemplations vanishing in her actual temporal condition, and it seemed as if all her fac-ulties were absorbed in the sense of hearing.
The thoughts are active in a moment so fearful.At first Mabel fancied that her uncle had entered the block-house, and she was about to descend the ladder and throw herself into his arms; then the idea that it might be an Indian, who had barred the door to shut out intruders while he plundered at leisure, arrested the movement.The profound stillness below was unlike the bold, restless move-ments of Cap, and it seemed to savor more of the artifices of an enemy.If a friend at all, it could only be her uncle or the Quartermaster; for the horrible conviction now pre-sented itself to our heroine that to these two and herself were the whole party suddenly reduced, if, indeed, the two latter survived.This consideration held Mabel in check, and for full two minutes more a breathless silence reigned in the building.During this time the girl stood at the foot of the upper ladder, the trap which led to the lower opening on the opposite side of the floor; the eyes of Mabel were riveted on this spot, for she now began to ex-pect to see at each instant the horrible sight of a savage face at the hole.This apprehension soon became so in-tense, that she looked about her for a place of conceal-ment.The procrastination of the catastrophe she now fully expected, though it were only for a moment, afforded a relief.The room contained several barrels; and behind two of these Mabel crouched, placing her eyes at an open-ing by which she could still watch the trap.She made another effort to pray; but the moment was too horrible for that relief.She thought, too, that she heard a low rustling, as if one were ascending the lower ladder with an effort at caution so great as to betray itself by its own ex-cess; then followed a creaking that she was certain came from one of the steps of the ladder, which had made the same noise under her own light weight as she ascended.
This was one of those instants into which are compressed the sensations of years of ordinary existence.Life, death, eternity, and extreme bodily pain were all standing out in bold relief from the plane of every-day occurrences; and she might have been taken at that moment for a beautiful pallid representation of herself, equally without motion and without vitality.But while such was the outward appearance of the form, never had there been a time in her brief career when Mabel heard more acutely, saw more clearly, or felt more vividly.As yet, nothing was visible at the trap, but her ears, rendered exquisitely sensitive by intense feeling, distinctly acquainted her that some one was within a few inches of the opening in the floor.Next followed the evidence of her eyes, which beheld the dark hair of an Indian rising so slowly through the passage that the movements of the head might be likened to that of the minute-hand of a clock; then came the dark skin and wild features, until the whole of the swarthy face had risen above the floor.The human countenance seldom appears to advantage when partially concealed; and Mabel imagined many additional horrors as she first saw the black, roving eyes and the expression of wildness as the savage counte-nance was revealed, as it might be, inch by inch; but when the entire head was raised above the floor, a second and a better look assured our heroine that she saw the gentle, anxious, and even handsome face of June.
