Catherine DuBois
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Among those most deeply stricken was Lewis DuBois. His house and all his earthly goods were in ashes; his wife, he at last teamed, had been carried off a prisoner with other females and some children; and though he could not mourn her as dead, yet she might be reserved for a worse fate. It was not the least poignant part of his regret that the last words spoken to her- the last he might ever be permitted to speak-were those of anger; and that his last remembrance of her was her form seated at the little table sobbing at his harsh words.
But those border men were not the ones to waste precious moments in outward exhibitions of grief when duty called to act. To prepare the dead for burial, and, if possible, to rescue the prisoners, were measures immediately resolved upon. The former was a sad duty, the latter a most dangerous task. All fear was banished from those whose wives and children were in the hands of savages; they would dare anything that promised a rescue. While a few were left in charge of the fort, a band of thirty resolute men were assembled and sent in pursuit of the savages. With heavy hearts and anxious forebodings the remnant of the village saw this little band of heroes depart on their errand of difficulty and danger, following them with tearful and prayerful anxiety until they disappeared in the adjacent forest, when they betook themselves to the sad rites of the sepulture of their slain comrades.
We will next follow the adventures of the weeping captives, torn from their homes by a band of whooping savages, red with the blood of their slaughtered relatives. For the first few miles the demeanor of their savage captors was harsh and violent. They would menace them with the tomahawk by way of urging them to a more rapid movement. The Indians evidently feared pursuit, and they were anxious to put as many miles between them and their possible pursuers as they could. Once out of reach of immediate danger the party slackened their pace, and conducted the retreat more leisurely. Just before nightfall one of the prisoners gave out; she was tomahawked and scalped, and left where she fell. At last a halt was ordered, and the party prepared to bivouac for the night.
Fires were lighted, and the savages arranged themselves for the evening meal. The prisoners were permitted to remain in company, a little apart from the savages, with a single sentinel to keep watch over them. They were not a little alarmed at the noise made by the wild animals in the woods around them, but were spared the knowledge at the time that those sounds were made by beasts of prey, as they fought and feasted on the body of their lamented sister, tomahawked that afternoon.
They were here destined to have the remembrance of their misfortunes awakened anew, as the savages displayed the booty they had carried off from the fort. Mrs. B. beheld a scarlet cloak that her little boy wore when he was brained by a savage-his scream of terror was still ringing in her ears. Mrs. G. recognized a coat as belonging to her husband, who was shot down and scalped before her eyes. Catherine DuBois beheld all this with feelings of mingled emotion. As far as she knew her husband was alive. And as the occurrences of the day came up before her she thought was she not a little at fault for the misunderstanding of the morning? Might she not have been a little more patient, and not have cast back such a retort? It was their first quarrel, and now they might never meet again. Ah, those words! Would they had remained unspoken!
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