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Portland
OLD & EL
BY GO! WELL,
Office 80 Middle, near Corner ot Exchange St.
Cranseript,
TERMS: $1,50 PER YEAR.
One Dollar for Eight Mentha.
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, NEWS, @G. . -
VOLUME XVI.
A CAPITAL STORY.
From the United Service Magazine.
“¢ THE PLEDGE.
AN INCIDENT ON FRONTIER WARFARE.
ConcLUDED.
The long summer day was tar advanced, and
Mark Thorneastle wag just beginning to wish some
‘tidings of his sharp, shooters, when an Indian
yonth issued from the woods with the air and pace
of a messenger, and before the old soldier could
reach the gate, a cheer from his scanty garrison
prepared him for welcome news. “There was a
note, too, scrawled in Stephenson's rude caligraphy
informing the commander that their work was done,
and in gallant style, and that they would reach the
fort that evening.
“And tell Willa,” he added, “that Norman Reed
is a regular right down, hero, and reverences her
just as the Indians do their totems.”
A courtier man than rough Alick Stephenson
might have felt flatrered had he seen the eagerness
’ with which Willis caught up his note, which her
father threw to her, laughing. And then, eafe in
.2 “her own room, she read those few words over and
e
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1.
over again with an intentness which their. brevity
seemed scareely to require.
The hours stole away, but Wills never moved
from the post she had taken at her window, which
commanded a fall view of the gate of the fort, and
that part of the clearing which the returning party
would have to cross,
At length’ the setting sunbeams were “glinted
back” from their polished rifles, as they came over
the fields where in more peaceful times wheat had
ripened} and ‘maize waved its long silken tresses on
the breeze. They, neared the fort. No wonder
Willa’s heart beat so. violently, for she felt how
much this present hour was to her.
And now they reached the gate—there was a
young man at Stephenson’s side, whom she had
never seen before. As W’lla’s glance rested on
him, he looked up, and she saw his bright smile
and handsome features. Another instant and his
cap was withdrawn from the sunny curls, and a
rapid bow betrayed that the stranger had seen
her. :
Willa drew back hastily, in confusion; she had
not expected to be observed in that lofty post—
© Yet sha felt happy, for she had looked on the hero
of her girlish dreams, :
It seemed scarcely a few minntes when an In-
dian girl, her servant, knocked at the door.
“Mamselle Willa, le capitaine want you—say,
make haste !”
‘The summons mast, she knew, be obeyed ; for
Mark Thorneastle was none of the most patient of
men, and had little sympathy with femmine ser
ples of fustidiousness. So she descended with a
* flattering heart.
Again she met the same lig ight smile and beam-
ing glance, so eloquent with admiration, and the
blood rushed yet deeper to her cheek and brow.
. “Norman Reed,” said her tather.
* It was another he addressed. Willa saw a dark
face, crossed by a large disfiguring scar; then a
mist swam before her eyes, the blood vanished from
her brow and cheek, and she nearly fell to the
ground. By a violent effort she recovered herself,
bat she could.not raise her eyes again, and she
shuddered as her cold hand was placed in that of
Norman Reed.
«But Willa Thorncastle was a heroine after all,
and though she could not look on the face of her
betrothed all that evening, as she sat at supper
with him, her tather and Stephenson, and the young
stranger, whose presence had made this blow more
painful, she strove bravely to conquer her emotions,
and let none perceive how heavy a weight lay at
her heart. And for a while she talked and laugh-
ed with a spirit and gaiety which might well have
deceived many; but, when that was over, we will
not follow her into her room to witness her tears,
* for heroes and heroines are merely men and wo-
meni, (and sometimes very weak ones,) when once
the door is shut upon the world.
But though old Thorncastle and his lieutenant
‘might be blinded, there were two whose sight was
_ touch keener, and whose hearts tanght them to
PORTLAND, SATURD
‘read eve every thing quick ~ enough—the “Nandsome |
stranger, who laid his head down to think and
dream sweetly of the beautiful Willa Thorncastle,
often heard of but never scen before that day ; and
Norman Reed, who paced his room for hours after
Willa had even wept herself to sleep.
“Madman—fool that I was, to think I might win
her love !” he muttered. “Ay, women prize brave
deeds well enough, but it-is when there is a hand-
some face, also, to-suit their liking. Why could
not some stray bullet have ended my days at
Moore's Fort! Then she might have shed a tear
for me; but now she would rejoice at my death.—
But she need not,” he continued, smiling bitterly,
“The unsightly face does not always cover so de-
formed a heart, and if I cannot have her love, I
will not make my own a plea to gain her hatred.”
“None but the braves
None but the bra
None but the brave ‘deterve the fair.”
So sang a rough but pleasant voice, as Reed
stepped into the fresh air the next morning, and
tephenson came forward to greet him kindly.
It seemed a good omen, and for a moment the
cloud of the past night melted’ from his spirit—
But then he followed the lieutenant into the room
where Willa awaited them, with breakfast, and,
though she smiled, and extended her hand to him
unhesitatingly, he saw that her check was pale, and
and that she never raised her eyes to his fuce.
A few days passed on, and all was quiet in the
district. Neither foes nor rumors of foes came to
disturb their tranquility, and Norman Reed wished
there had, for anything—death, torture itself—
would have been preferable to the life of mockery
he had led at the block house, _ He saw that in her
heart Willa recoiled from him, though nothing but
her quiverng lip and increased paleness whenever
he drew near, betrayed her emotion. And worse
than all, the handsome person and attractive man-
ners of Frank Nugent, who was loitering there on
his way to Detroit, were winning their way to the
frontier maiden’s. heart.
It might-have been in Norman’s power to de-
stroy this fascination, and win his beautiful be-
trothed to forget his looks while she listened to
him. But it needs some degree of assurance to
play the pait of an Othello, and Norman Reed
was over sensitive; for he was a young man, and
had been a handsome one Until six months before,
when the sword of an American officer cut that
deep gash across his face. True, the very scar
was the record of an heroic act ; but what matter-
ed that? It revolted love and inspired aversion
in the woman he loved, and he wished the keen
blade had gone through his heart instead.
Yet he loved and admired Willa more and
more every day, for the noble firmness and
resolution she evinced to ‘complete the sacrifice of
her youth and beauty, and her young, fair hopes to
him, from whom, he felt, her very soul recoiled.—
And it was hard with his own hand to gear away
the flower which fate had laid apon his bosom, to
send its beauty and perfume over his life.
“But no!” said he, “such dreams are not for me.
Glory must be my only mistress—my only bride.
The old negress told me, years ago, of the milita-
ry fame and rank which I should *gain. They
must be henceforth the only prizes that I strive
for; and then it will matter to none if I win, in-
stead, a grave
‘There was a ‘igh as he concluded, as if at that
moment the last would be most welcome; but very
different was the fate reserved for Norman Reed.
While the young sharpshooter was indulging
in these gloomy meditations, Willa Thorncastle
was musing as mournfully on the eastern bastion,
where she had stolen away because few went there,
and she longed to breathe the cool evening air,
alone and free from observation. So, seating her-
self on the brord stones beside the swivel, “and
leaning ber feverish brow on her hand, she gazed
with unseeing eyes on the quict expanse of star-lit
fields and shadowy forest.
She was so deep in thought that a step was upon
the bastion ere she heard it, She started to her
feet with a hurried movement, when an earnest
voice exclaimed :
“Witla! Miss Thorneastle! do not fly from me!
For this once I must speak to you.”
AY, OCTOBER 23, 1852.
4] do not wish to fly from you,” said Willa, gen-
ly.
“Yes, vou know you do!” replied Norman, with
startling energy. “You know that in your heart
you long to fly, ay, even to the ends of the earth,
to the depths of the waters, so that you might avoid
me! And yet you do not fly from me; you stand
here, fixed and resolute, to offer up to me the sac-
rifice of your happiness. , Girl, girl, did you not
think me a monster, or a fool, that I should tram-
ple your heart beneath my feet, or fail to read its
abhorrence in every feature? Ah, I forgot you saw
not that my eye watched them ; you have not looked
on my face as I have on yours.”
His voice sank to a softer tone at these last
words, yet it was full of a bitter mournfulness—
Willa leaned on the gun, and burying her face in
her hands, wept passionately. After a time the
young man spoke more gently.
“It was not for this I came here, not to distress
or reproach you, but to say that which I might
never have found courage to utter while the Jight of|
day was shining on me. You tremble, Willa; sit
here and listen to me.” .
Willa sat down ia silence on the stone where he
had found her. She did indeed tremble with a
strange fear ; for, true to the chivalrons principle
in which she had been educated, she had resolved
that her heart might break, but should not falter in
the strict path of honor and duty, and she knew
not how far its secrets had been read.
“It is not the love of a day, nor a week, that I
am going to speak of, said the young sharp-shoot-
er. “Months, many months ago, I saw you at De-
troit. You spoke to me,—nay, danced with me—
You do not remember it. No wonder; war had
not then set its sealon me. Bat from that hour I
loved you, tho’ of late I had not dared to dream ot
you as my own, until But it was not that
Imeant to say; I only wished to tell you that it
was not because I do not love, not because I do not
prize, ay, far more than my life, the hopes thathave
been given to me, that I have come here to speak
to you, frankly and openly. Willa Thorncastle,
you long to be released from the promise which
you made, nobly and blindly, never dreaming that
so unsightly a wretch as I should come to claim it!”
“You have no right to say this, Norman Reed,”
said Willa, raising her head. “When have I ever
shown such a desire? When have I treated you
coldly, or avoided you? Tama soldier's daughter,
and have learned to esteem conrage and gallantry.”
“As do all women,” interrupted Reed, “when
there is a fair face to lend them value--a fair face
which may be marred so easily! But I do not re-
proach you. Only I will not owe to your sense of
honor what I could not win from your love. That
is not mine—it is another’s even.”
Willa started and bowed her head, as though be
eould have seen her blushes in thedim light. Nor-
man went on :-
“Yet, do not think it was that bribe solely which
sent me to warn Moore’s Fort of ‘its danger. No,
it was your own first appeal, Willa, that made me
resolve to carry the warning, or dic in the attempt;
and I was stepping forward to volunteer, when
your father's words, and your own noble purpose,
silenced me ; for I had no right then to stand apart
from others. Bat I tell you now, lest you might
think that you owed me payment fora debt for
which I bad bargained. You aro free, Willa; this
mockery of a betrothal is at an end. Did you hear
that ?” continued he, bending over her as she did
not move,‘and speaking with that bitterness and
levity which unhappiness often chooses for its ut-
terance, “You are free, Willa. Have you no
words to speak your gladness 2”,
“May God bless you for it,” said Willa, earnest-
ly, a3 she raised her head, and the trembling star-
light fell on her pale face and clasped hands.
The words went to Norman’s heart. He eaught
her hands and pressed them eagerly to his lips~
then, ashamed of, this barst of weakness, turned
away and sprang down the bastion,
* * *
‘The close of another moon found affairs wearing
a very different aspect at the Blockhouse Fort—
All was activity and vigilance. Straggling parties
of Osage Indians were loitering among the sur-
rounding woods, and little skirmishes with them
were occurring constantly whenever the garrison
i
}
NUMBER 28.
wanted venison, or sought to hold communication
with those without the walls,
On such occasions, Norman Reed, was alwsys
foremost. It was his bullet that trutst struck the
deer, and his coolness and intrepidity that were’
ever readiest to bafile his foes, or beat them back.
a
‘There was a recklessness even in bis bravery,which
might have bespoken him careless of the life he
hezarded ; but too many of his comrades had been
rejected by Willa Thorncastle for them to think of
such motives for his conduct; and the. old soldier
only saw in it a theme for commendation in his de-
spatches to Detroit, which, together with the re-
pgrts from’ Moore’s Fort, made Gen. Hammond be-
gin to think that he had quite a militia hero under
his command, .
Frank Nugent was still at the block house, and
the accepted lover of Willa Thorncastle. He had
joined her father’s corps, for the’ time, as a volun-
teer, but a wound received in an early skirmish,
bad kept him inactive ever since. Stephenson
once said, that to have Willa for a nurse was sufi-
cient to make any man in no great hurry to get
well. *
Old Mark was parading his little. band in the
fort one bright morning, instractiog them in sun-
dry evolutions, which they: never found opportuni-
ty to practise in the bush, when the distant crack
of a rifle cut short the word of command. Anoth-
erand another followed, then. several, and a wild
whoop yelled the tidings of combat far through the
forest,
“Quick, fades saly forth and help the right side f*
cried old Thor
“Think you it may not be a lure to draw usout?”
asked prudent Stephenson.
“They are not all Indian rifles ; there are white
men fighting there,” said Norman. Reed.
A faint cheer came like the echo of his worde—
All was bustle for a minute. Then’ Stephenson
led out his gallant party, only a dozen being left
to guard the fort, besides the old soldier himself,
who, grieving, as eat such moments he ever did,
over the lameness which kept him “nseless, whenev-
er speed. was required, stood watching them until
their bright rifles and green jackets were alike lost
among the greener branches.
On they went at a rapid pace, their ardor height-
ened by the frequent whoops and quick discharge
of firearms, which told of hot and earnest fighting.
At length they reached a sunny glade, where near
twenty white men were battling manfally against a
crowd of Indians, while some of each side lay gasp-
ing out their lives upon the grass. Overwhelming
numbers had already beaten back the colonists to
the edge of the glade before the sharp shooters ar-
rived ; but they took the Indians in flank, and each
singling out his man, a score of red men fell at the
first fire. The shock of this fatal volley staggered
the Indians, while their opponents fought with fresh
vigor. There was ashort but terrible struggle hand
to band, in which Norman Reed’s career had near-
Jy ended. Le had just freed himself from an ene-
my, when, chancing to turn his head, he saw close
to him a young warrior—by his ornaments a chief
—whose bravery and influence had been obvions
during the conflict. The Indian‘s arm was in the
act of sweeping round with the sharp stroke which
would give his death-blow, when Norman’s eye fell
upon it, and instantly he sprang in upon him, and,
with one stroke of his short sword, laid the chief
dead at his feet, with the tomahawk still trembling
in his grasp.
The Indians, alrenay wavering, now at their
Jeader’s fall gave way at once and fied, pursued by
most of the sharp shooters, aud some of those they
had aided. There was no standing at bay—all was |
flight ; and as swift-footed as were the pursuers, the
flying were fleeter still, for the large mass of In- ”
dians kept far ahead. As to the stragglers, we will
not speak of their fate; for these frequent contests
had taught the white men some of the worst por- ¢
tions of the Indian code of Warfare, especially
among these irregular and: volonteer corps, where
social equality made Ciscipline lax, and disposed
men to act as seemed good in their own sight on
many occasions,
Miles and miles through ‘the forest’ the victors
tracked their flying foe, eager to clear the woods of
the Indians now, as they had long vaialy wished.
