An awful silence for a few minutes prevailed, during which De Zeng’s eyes were riveted upon his watch, and an attendant with drawn sword stood ready to sever the cord at the base of the tree. The prisoner again smiled, as he remarked, “The time must be past, Count De Zeng: I suppose the play is now over.”
A signal from the count, and a flash of the executioner’s blade, was the only reply. The released tree sprang upwards, and, suspended, struggling from its lofty top, Edward Wiley passed into eternity.
Appalled at the awful spectacle, the little company remained for some time silent, but at length one of the prisoners, who seemed in some authority, and who had ventured to remonstrate against the proceedings, remarked that the “tragedy was ended.”
“Ended!” exclaimed De Zeng, in a voice of startling tone; “it is but just begun. Your whole number, man by man, shall dangle at those tree-tops, if you still persist in withholding your captive. Who stands next in authority?”
Of course none were anxious to lay claim to so dangerous a dignity; but the majority of the prisoners being Indians, one, who bore the insignia of a chief, was selected and brought forward. Glancing with a slight tremor upward at the suspended body of his leader, he turned to the count, and said,
“The white chief carried a forked tongue; Wind-Wing will bring back the Pale Flower.”
A brief parley ensued, during which it appeared that the chief had a son among the prisoners, who agreed to be responsible for the fulfillment of his promise. The compact was duly made. By the time that the shadow of an adjacent maple should fall across the corner of the encampment, Wind-Wing was to return with the maiden, or his son was to die. The time specified was about an hour. It was a period of intense interest to all. The short winter day was fast wasting away, and Count De Zeng felt that if it passed without the rescue of Miss Gansevoort, but little hope would remain of effecting that object. He hardly dared to believe either in the fidelity of the savage, or in his ability to accomplish his task. If Ellen was in reality in the vicinity, she was doubtless in the custody of Tories, over whom the Indian would have no control. More especially, if the latter should be indiscreet enough to divulge the death of Wiley, would that circumstance operate against poor Ellen. The more De Zeng reflected the more he despaired. He even began to anticipate an attack of the camp, as Wind-Wing might make use of his fleetness only to arouse the neighboring Tories to the rescue of their friends. Double vigilance was therefore enjoined upon the sentinels. In the meantime the hour dragged slowly along, and the shadow gradually approached the designated line. It was with real pain that De Zeng gave orders to make ready the fatal tree. Wiley’s death he had witnessed without the slightest compunction, but the Indian was comparatively innocent. His resolution, however, was fixed. If the chief failed of his promise, there would be nothing further to rely upon, excepting a thorough intimidation of the remaining prisoners.