<SPAN name="XX"> </SPAN>
<p class="chapter">
CHAPTER XX.</p>
<p class="head">
CONCLUSION.</p>
<p>"Don't you fire, Ethan," repeated the trapper, as the enthusiastic boy raised his gun. "No need o' killin' no more on 'em."</p>
<p>The remaining Indians in the water had discovered their mistake, and were making towards the opposite shore with all possible haste. They had not expected such a reception, and appeared to be glad to escape with no greater loss.</p>
<p>"Ho, ho, ho!" shouted other Indians on the shore.</p>
<p>"We are gittin' into a bad scrape," said Ethan, dissatisfied because Rattleshag had prevented him from firing at the savages. "There's more 'n a million on 'em over thar."</p>
<p>"Them's Lean B'ar's Injins that's yellin'. Don't you see 'em? They was nigh enough to hear the shootin' and the yellin', and they've kim back to keep them redskins from hurtin' on us—don't you see?" added Rattleshag, pointing over at the three mounted savages who had just dashed up to the bank on the other side of the stream.</p>
<p>"So they be; and hyer kims the rest on 'em."</p>
<p>At this instant the other three of the escort galloped wildly over the prairie, and before the voyagers could reach the boat the Indians intercepted them. Like those on the other side, they uttered wild yells, and seemed to be as much excited as though they had been actually engaged in battle.</p>
<p>The exiles had not intended to hold any communication with their escort, dreading the treacherous nature of the savages; and when the three Indians approached, Ethan promptly placed himself in a defensive attitude. Though the escort continued to yell, they did not offer to attack the voyagers. They stopped on the bank of the river, where the bateau lay. One of them dismounted, and leaped into the boat. With his scalping-knife he cut the bonds of Wahena, and taking the boy in his arms, bounded to the shore again.</p>
<p>Ethan's heart sank within him, when he saw that the captive, upon whose presence he had relied for the safety of the party, was wrested from them. Rushing forward with his rifle, he took aim at Wahena, disregarding the earnest remonstrances of Rattleshag.</p>
<p>"No shoot! no shoot!" exclaimed one of the savages—the one who had before acted as Lean Bear's messenger. "No kill, no hurt."</p>
<p>"Don't fire," pleaded Fanny. "If you should kill Wahena, they would butcher us all."</p>
<p>The Indian boy saw her as she stepped forward, and immediately began to talk in the most earnest manner to the savage who held him.</p>
<p>"No hurt!" shouted the spokesman of the Indians. "You go—no kill; no kill, no hurt."</p>
<p>Wahena, after struggling for some time with the brawny savage who held him, escaped from his grasp, and, to the surprise of the voyagers, rushed over to the spot where Fanny stood. Seizing her hand, he shook it warmly, and then began a series of violent gesticulations, which were at first unintelligible. He dropped on his knees, clasped his hands, looked up to the sky, and then beat his breast. He pointed to the boat, intimating by his signs that she was to go on board. She obeyed, and was followed by Ethan and the trapper. The party stepped on board, and to the astonishment of all, Wahena followed them, and took the seat he had occupied during the voyage.</p>
<p>Ethan and Rattleshag pushed off, and when the bateau began to move down the river, Wahena shouted to the Indians, and pointed down the river, indicating that they were to follow, as they had done before. The Indian boy's signs on shore were now interpreted to be an expression of his gratitude to Fanny for her kindness to him, and a prayer to the Great Spirit for her safety.</p>
<p>If the party in the boat were surprised at the singular conduct of Wahena, the Indians on shore were still more astonished; but he spoke a language which they could understand, and they sullenly resumed their march down the river.</p>
<p>The captive was now treated as a friend. Though he could not have known what the contract between his father and the voyagers had been, except so far as he had learned it from the subsequent events, he had voluntarily surrendered himself, and insisted upon seeing Fanny conveyed to a place of safety. Almost every day while they had been on the island, she had sung her sweet songs to Wahena, and he had listened to them with rapt attention. As the boat slowly went its way, he begged her by signs to sing, and she complied. He expressed his pleasure, which was shared by Ethan and Rattleshag, by the most eloquent signs.</p>
<p>During the day, Ethan and Rattleshag slept, while Fanny steered the boat. Wahena, no longer in bonds, kept close to her. He intimated in his dumb language that he wanted to take the helm, and gently took the tiller from her. He was soon proficient in steering, for there was now nothing to do but keep the boat in the middle of the river, and occasionally to trim the sail.</p>
<p>At night Fanny and Wahena went to sleep again, and the management of the boat was divided between Ethan and the trapper. The next morning the bateau had entered the Big Woods, and the sail was nearly useless, for the forest obstructed the wind, and the voyagers were mainly dependent upon the current of the river for the little progress they made; but on the afternoon of the third day of the journey, they came in sight of a town, which Rattleshag said was not more than twelve miles from Mankato. The Indian escort then hailed the boat.</p>
<p>"No go more," said the spokesman.</p>
<p>"I reckon 'twon't be safe for 'em to go any further," added Rattleshag.</p>
<p>Fanny ran the boat up to the shore, and Ethan, always dreading the treachery of the savages, kept his gun and revolver in readiness for immediate use. The time had come for Wahena to take leave of the party. He was profoundly affected at the thought of bidding adieu to Fanny; he did not appear to like Ethan or the trapper. He pressed her hand, looked very sad, and made his demonstrative gestures. She kissed him on the cheek, pointed up to the sky, and laid her hands upon his head. If she could have spoken to him, she would have expressed the wish that he would abandon the savage life of his people, and become a true man; and she would have been glad to teach him the religion of the Saviour, now so dear to her, and to show him how to
<i>
hope and have</i>.</p>
<p>Wahena turned slowly and sadly away from her, and walked to the Indians who were waiting for him. A stout fellow lifted him on the horse in front of him, and dashed away; but Fanny could see him trying to obtain a last view of her, as the savages entered the forest. She missed him very much as the boat continued on her course. The Indian boy was much attached to her, and she found herself much interested in him. She has not seen him since they parted, and probably they never will meet again in this world; but her blessing will go with him, and perhaps her gentle influence will soften his savage nature, and be reflected in his kindness to the white people with whom he may come in contact.</p>
<p>At sundown the bateau passed into the Minnesota, and at dark the party landed at Mankato, only three miles below the mouth of the Blue Earth, on which the last part of the voyage had been made.</p>
<p>We need not say that the party found plenty of warm friends; for when it was known that they were fugitives from the Indian massacre, every house and every heart was open to them. Troops in large numbers had gone forward for the suppression of the insurrection, and confidence was in a great measure restored. The place was full of people who had escaped, and the savages were being captured and sent hither for trial.</p>
<p>The party were accommodated at the house of a trader, who supplied them with all they wanted, both of food and clothing. It was now time to think of the future. By the merciful interposition of Providence, the exiles had been saved from death and captivity; but they had no home, and no relations. Fanny knew what a warm welcome awaited her at Woodville, and she was desirous of going there; but she had no money to pay for such a long journey. She mentioned her wish to the trader, and he promptly offered to advance her a sufficient sum to enable her and Ethan to reach their destination.</p>
<p>"Where are you going, Rattleshag?" asked Fanny, when her own and Ethan's future movements had been arranged.</p>
<p>"I dunno."</p>
<p>"Why don't you join the sogers, and help put down the Injins?" asked Ethan. "You are a dead shot, and they'd like to hev you."</p>
<p>"I can't do thet," replied Rattleshag, shaking his head.</p>
<p>"Why not? They want all the good men they kin git, and you'd be wuth a heap to 'em, for you know all about the Injins,—whar to find 'em, and how to trap 'em," added Ethan, with considerable warmth; and he was a little inclined to offer his own services.</p>
<p>"The Injins hes allers ben my friends, and I don't want to help kill 'em. They've ben abused, and thet's what made 'em rise up agin the whites. They've ben cheated out of their land, and then cheated out of the money they ought to hev fur it. I pity 'em, and I shan't help kill 'em. I shall go back to the woods when the fightin' 's over, and live like I allers did."</p>
<p>The next day Ethan and Fanny shook hands with Rattleshag, and bidding him a cordial good by, started upon their long journey to the eastward. The prairie boy was greatly excited at the prospect of seeing the great cities of the country through which he was to pass. On cars and steamers where it was known that the boy and girl were refugees from the great Indian massacre, they were the lions of the hour. They were often called upon to tell their story of peril and death, and every one was kind and generous to them. They were frequently invited to private houses on the journey; but they declined all invitations, and hurried on as fast as steam could convey them to their destination, and arrived at Woodville without even stopping to sleep a night on the way.</p>
<p>Mrs. Green gave the exiles a motherly welcome. The fact that the massacre had extended to the settlement where Fanny's uncle resided had been published in the newspapers, and the housekeeper and servants believed that she had been one of its victims. She was welcomed, therefore, as one who had come from the grave. Ethan was regarded as a hero at the mansion and in its vicinity, and became a person of no little distinction.</p>
<p>Ethan French was a young man of no little manliness and independence. After he had spent a week in idleness, and had told the story of his escape from the Indians till it had become tiresome to him, he began to look about him for a situation in which he could earn his own living. But Mrs. Green induced him to remain at Woodville until the return of Mr. Grant; and he worked in the garden and stable.</p>
<p>Without waiting for instructions from Mr. Grant, the housekeeper forwarded to the kind-hearted trader the sum of money which he had advanced to pay the expenses of Fanny and Ethan from Mankato to Woodville. The money was accompanied by a letter of thanks from Fanny.</p>
<p>In November, the family returned from Europe. Mrs. Green had already informed them by letter of the safety, and of the arrival at Woodville, of Fanny Jane, as she was called in the house. Mr. Grant and his daughters had suffered a great deal of anxiety on her account, after they read the intelligence of the massacre, and they were heartily rejoiced to meet her again, after believing for months that she was dead, or worse than dead—a captive in the hands of the barbarous Indians.</p>
<p>Ethan, awkward and unaccustomed to good society, was overwhelmed by the kindness of what he called the "grand people." He was invited into the drawing-room, and from him and Fanny a very correct account of their adventures was obtained.</p>
<p>"Fanny Jane, I can hardly believe you are the same girl I had in my charge," exclaimed Miss Fanny, when both stories had been told and discussed.</p>
<p>"But I am," said the orphan girl, with a blush.</p>
<p>"I am sure none of us would have behaved so well in the midst of such trials," added Mrs. Sherwood. "It is terrible to think of."</p>
<p>"You cannot tell how thankful I am that all this happened after my visit to New York," continued the returned wanderer. "I could not, if I would, banish from my thoughts the image of Jenny Kent, who led me to believe in truth and goodness, and to strive to live for them."</p>
<p>"I should hev been skeered to death ef't hadn't been for Fanny. She was so good that she made me feel strong."</p>
<p>"And this is our Fanny Jane!" added Mr. Grant.</p>
<p>"I have tried to be good all the time," replied Fanny, wiping away a tear she could not repress.</p>
<p>"And you hev been!" ejaculated Ethan, with emphasis. "Creation hokee! nobody couldn't do no better, nohow!"</p>
<p>The family could not help laughing at the earnestness of Ethan.</p>
<p>"She's been the makin' o' me, ef I ever do come out anywhere," he continued.</p>
<p>"I have taught him to believe in goodness, to hope for it, and then labor to have it," said Fanny Jane.</p>
<p>"Hope and have," added Miss Fanny.</p>
<p>Mr. Grant promptly decided that Ethan's greatest need was a better education, and the prairie boy went to school with Fanny during the following winter. In the spring he talked like a civilized being; did not say "hyer" for
<i>
here</i>, nor "kim" for
<i>
come</i>, and has banished "creation hokee" from the list of his pet phrases. In the summer he went to learn the trade of a machinist, for which he has decided taste and ability, and the prospect is, that he will become a good and useful man, if not a brilliant one.</p>
<p>Mrs. Kent's husband returned home during Fanny's absence, having been "sick and in prison" in the rebel country. When he had drawn his pay, he insisted upon returning to Mr. Grant the sums advanced to his wife by her kind friends; but they persistently refused to accept them. He wept over his lost child, and thanked God for raising up such friends for her while he was absent.</p>
<p>Fanny still resides at Woodville; and having now completed her school course, she assists Mrs. Green in the management of the house. She is still true to her high resolves; still wears the emblematic anchor, and strives to be as pure and good as Jenny was. She occasionally visits the grave of her departed young friend, and always gathers new inspiration and new strength for the battle of life, as she reads on the marble tablet her dying words—<span class="sc">Hope and Have</span>.</p>
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