Whilst they were hesitating what course to pursue, William reloaded the rifle, together with an old musket which he found hanging in the tent. As soon as the door opened, and an Indian appeared, he fired. The shot was effectual, but still the odds were fearful. Another and another savage entered, and the foremost had already levelled his rifle at William’s heart. The musket was in Shaomet’s hand; with the quickness of his youth he brought the piece to his shoulder. It missed fire. In another instant William Russell lay a bleeding corpse.
They immediately advanced to secure his scalp, but the old man would not permit them.
“You have killed my friend,” said he, “in my own wigwam, and now I will protect his body while I live. Shaomet is old now—he will soon be buried with his fathers; you may shoot me if you will, but never shall you take his scalp.”
All this time Tahattawa sat upon the bundle of fagots in the corner of the tent. She spoke not—moved not. For the sake of her friend—her _sister_ as she familiarly called her—she had perilled her own life; nay, what was far more, the life of her betrothed. She had seen her “_sister’s_” lover shot down—she had seen her own young chief fall, and of course supposed him dead. Poor girl! A victim to her own benevolence and to the evil passions of others!
The savages, casting a glance round the apartment, and perceiving no other inmate besides Shaomet and his daughter, immediately left the wigwam, and, taking their canoes, went silently down the river.
On the afternoon following the events above related, the little island of Hockanum looked as bright and as beautiful as ever. It was as lovely as if it had not witnessed the tragic scenes of the preceding night. The bright sun shone gaily upon it; the birds warbled their sweet notes; the soft breeze played among the bright green leaves; and the whole spot looked like a little paradise;—a sad contrast to two hearts that were even then in its bosom.
The friends of William Russell had already assembled to perform the last sad duties to his remains. He was to be interred here, in accordance with the request of her who was to have been his bride.
“Here,” said she, “here on this little island he was slain, and here let him be buried. Here I will spend many of my hours; I will plant flowers around his grave. Here I can come and weep, away from all eyes but the eye of Him who has seen fit to afflict me thus.”