Chapter XV

Lea and San—after Alan and Lentz left them—kept watch in the tower. They talked together in their own language.

“How long do you think, brother, that they will be gone?”

“Until dawn perhaps. We can only hope for the best. Alan is resourceful—he got you away from Turber, Lea.”

They could not guess what Alan and Lentz would do to rescue Nanette and me. They discussed Lentz. A fellow of their own Time-world. Their father had always put great trust in him. But Lentz had known Turber there. Was he a traitor now? A fellow in the pay of Turber? There had been several little things which Alan had brought to light—things to make them suspicious of Lentz. And they knew Alan did not trust him.

The hours passed. The forest was a black wall of silence about the tower. Lea often stood in the doorway, staring out. Small, graceful figure in flowing blue robe and golden hair. We had seen her on the television like that—our first sight of her.

San would not be still. As always when the tower was at rest in a strange Time-world, he constantly paced the room; peering alternately from each of its windows; always within a few feet of the tower controls so that at any hostile sign outside, in a second or two the tower would speed away. Time dragged by. Lea grew increasingly worried. Alan should be back by now.

“If he would have taken me,” she said. “You remember, San, when we were here once before? There was an old chief—Silver Water, you remember? I could have got him then to help me try for Turber in one of Turber’s passings. But you would not let me.”

“You are over-bold, Lea.” San shrugged.“Iamhelpless—always here with the tower.”

“I could, tonight, have enlisted a band of these Indians,” she said. “They worshipped me for a goddess—the ‘God of Magic,’ old Silver Water called the tower.”

The Indians had been prostrate before the tower, that other night, and from its steps Lea had talked to them, while San watched at the controls.

“That was one thing,” he said. “Safe enough. But to have you leave—tonight—off in these woods to try and find your friendly, gullible Indians—too dangerous, Lea. Alan knew it. He was right.”

She presently mounted the tower, while San remained alert below. From the top she could see the Turber campfire. And the Indian fire to the southeast.

Silence. And then, far away to the south where the paleface city held the southern tip of the island, Lea thought she heard a shot. Then another. But they were very faint.

Dark spread of silent woods! What was going on out there? The shots were Alan firing at Lentz when he discovered his treachery. But Lea could not know that.

The Hudson River shoneinthe starlight. Lea saw ahuge Indian canoe moving south toward the glow of light which marked the location of the Turber ship. It was one of the canoes bringing in the Turber treasure. But that, too, she did not know.

She went down again and joined San. They waited through what seemed another interminable period.

“We must leave at dawn,” said San.

But Lea shook her head. “We will not leave until we know Turber has left—and Alan has failed.”

And there was the chance that Alan and Lentz would be in the woods, and return at last, unsuccessful.

“We cannot abandon them, San.”

They both suddenly felt that the venture was doomedtofailure.

“San! Did you hear that?”

They were at one of the windows. A cautious call had come from the woods. A low hail.

“Lea!” It came again. “Lea! Don’t start the tower! I’m coming.”

Lentz’s voice! They both recognized it. Lea went to the doorway. San was alert at the controls with his gaze on her.

“Wait, San.” She gestured. “Wait! I see him.”

Lentz appeared from a thicket nearby.

“Lea?”

“Yes, Lentz. Where is Alan?”

“I’m coming in. Don’t start the tower.” He approached. “Disaster, Lea. We could do nothing. Alan was killed by Turber.”

Her heart went cold. She stood on the steps. Lentz was alone. He came up the steps, into the tower rooms. There was blood on his right hand; one of the fingers was mangled. He held out the wounded hand.

He said: “Don’t start us yet, San. I want to talk to you. I’ve been hurt—Turber shot me.”

They stood with him in the middle of the room. For that instant the tower controls were neglected. Lentz held out his wounded hand for inspection. His other hand was behind him. It came up over his head. He struck with a dagger at San.

A swift blow, but Lea was quicker. She shoved at him. The blow missed, and San was upon him. And Lea leapedat him also, fighting desperately. They bore him down. His wounded hand was a handicap. The dagger was in his awkward left hand. San fought for it as they rolled on the floor with Lea bending over them.

A brief struggle. San twisted and got the dagger, stabbed with it. Lentz gave a shuddering cry and relaxed.

San climbed to his feet, white and shaken. Lea was trembling.

“Got him. Accursed traitor.”

San’s first thought was the controls. Lea stopped him.

“Wait! How doweknow Alanis dead?A lie, perhaps, that Lentz told us.”

They went to the windows. There was no one in sight. A groan from Lentz brought them back. He lay, gruesome on the floor, with the knife in him and a red stain widening. But he was not dead. Lea bent over him.

“Lea—I want to—tell you the truth.”

He diedinamoment, but beforehediedhegasped out the truth of what had happened. He had lurked in the woods and seen us captured bythe Dutchmen. He followed us—himself like an Indian, for he was skillful in woodcraft. He had been here before with Turber, laying planstoget the treasure.Heknew these woods well.

He had seen us finally thrown into the fort with half a dozen Dutchmen left to guard us. Then he had gone to Turber. Had told what happened. Turber had set off to see Stuyvesant. Lentz had come back to the tower. If he had killed San, he would perhaps have killed Lea also, and escaped with the tower. But nowhelay dead.Hegasped his last wordsofthe confession. Blood gushed from his lungs. Lea turned away. There was barely time for her to tell San what Lentz had said—they were standing at the doorway—when they became aware of dark figures in the shadowed glade near at hand! Again San would have flung the tower into Time. But again Lea stopped him.

Figures of savages were out there—not menacing, but prostrate upon the groundat the edgeof the nearby thickets. It was sodark by the forest edge—the figures were dark and motionless—that Lea and San might not have seen them had not there come a low wail. Mournful cry! A prostrate savage placating this magic god of the forest. This strange tower, with a god and goddess in its doorway standing in this glade which the redskins well knew to be usually empty of such a vision.

Lea’s thoughts were swift. Alan and I and Nanette were held by the Dutch in an isolated fort some two or three miles to the south.

Lea could control these Indians. She had already proven her power upon one of their chieftains. She murmured her plans to San. It was hardly a minute from the time they had first seen the prostrate figure.

San stood alert, watching. Lea advanced to the top of the tower steps. She called in the Indian dialect:

“Rise up, children of the forest, I would not hurt you. I bring you only good.”

She descended the steps slowly. San called anxiously:

“Careful, Lea!”

“Yes, San. Stand on your feet, men of the forest.”

Slowly she advanced upon them. Watchful.

They rose at the gesture of her upraised arms. Some ten of them—young braves prowling here in the forest, attracted by the tower’s dim light.

They trembled before Lea. Savages of the year 1664! Well might they have thought her a goddess; white, fairylike creature with flowing blue robe and dangling golden tresses—and the Time-traveling tower behind her.

“I bring you commands,” she said, “from the Spirit Land where your fathers hunt now in peace and happiness. You have a chief-tain—a man of much power here in these woods. He is called Silver Water—name like a woman, but he is a man very old, and wise, and very good.”

One of the Indians stepped forward. “I know him. His lodge— off there by the water of the dawn—not far.”

He pointed to the southeast.

“I will go with you,” she said. “Lead me. Be not afraid, young braves.”

“Lea, come back!” San called.

She turned. “I’ll be careful. No danger, San. Watch out for Turber.”

She followed the Indians into the dark shadows of the forest.

“But, Goddess of the Sun, I have buried the hatchet with the paleface intruders here.” The old Sachem was troubled. He sat by his campfire with his braves about him. The East River flowed nearby. The wigwams of his village stood along it—dark-coned shapes in the gloom. The curious women and children hovered in the background.

Lea stood straight and commanding with his back against a tree. The firelight painted her. She held her arms upraised.

“I am at peace here,” the old Indian repeated. “The palefaced chief with the one live leg sat here at my fire and smoked the pipe of peace with me. And you would command me to break my oath—”

“No,” she said. “There is one little fort, this side of the city. You know it.”

“I know it,” he said.

“And it is in your woods.”

He nodded gravely. “Yes. They press always further, these pale-faced intruders. But I want no fighting. The white men are very good at killing—and I have heard this day that more of the paleface ships are coming. One of my braves was in the city today. He came back drunk with firewater, but he had the tale.”

“Have they ever broken their word to you?” she demanded.

“Yes—many times.”

“Well, it is not my wish you should start any fighting. Merely frighten away the guards of the little fort.”

“My braves,” he said, “run wild when deeds of violence start. We want no killing.”

“No,” she agreed. “I will be careful of that.”

Lea at last convinced him. There were two gods, and another goddess like herself, held in that little fort by the Dutch. A score of braves and herself could go and frighten away the Dutchmen and rescue them. If they were left there—if evil came to them—then evil would fall upon all this forest. He listened. Abruptly hestoodupand flung his gray braids with a toss of his head, and wound his vivid blanket around him. Dignified, venerable figure. But he was afraid of Lea. Her curse upon these, his forest—his people—

“It shall be as you command. You shall have thirty of my braves. In a moment they will be ready.”

The little blockhouse stood inthe trees ona rise of ground. Lea, with her Indians about her, moved silently through the underbrush. It was her intention to creep up and surprise the Dutch guards, and to overcome them without arousing the nearby village. The door of the blockhouse faced the other way. The building stood black and silent. Were we in there? Was anyone in there? She did not know. Without warning, taking Lea wholly by surprise, at the edge of the thickets the savages knelt abruptly and shot their arrows.

“Why—” Momentarily she lost her poise.

The young braves beside her drew her back behindatree trunk. It startled her. But she saw that he was reverential.

“We will go no further,” he said. “Drive them away.”

The lust of battle abruptly swept over the young Indians. With the launching of the first arrow they seemed to forget Lea. The forest rang with their shouts. They spread out; creeping forward. And then with flint and steel bartered from the paleface, they set their arrows into flame. And launched them. The young leader standing by Lea murmured: “They are running! See them go—off there—running for their village. The fort will burn.”

It was already burning. Dry walls and roof; the flaming arrows struck and caught the bark. Spots of spreading flame.

“Wait!” commanded Lea. “Enough!” She stopped them at last. The fort was blazing. The Dutchmen had decamped.

She added: “Come!” But the young Indians feared to advance, suddenly fearful of what they had done. The great paleface village could pour out many wrathful men upon occasion.

“They stay here,” said Lea hurriedly.

She left them. She dashed across the short intervening space. She ran around the corner of the burning building. A prayer was in her heart that Alan and Nanette and I were inside and still safe. She came to the door. It stood open. The room was full of smoke. Its candles gleamed dully, but she saw that the room was empty. And saw a door across it.

She rushed in. The smoke choked her. She held her breath.

The door between the rooms was not fastened. She flung it open. Saw, in the yellow glare of the burning roof—saw Alan and me lying bound and helpless.

We called: “Lea!”

She came—saw the ropes binding us. She dashed back to get a knife lying on the table by the candles. We rolled so that she might cut our ropes. We were all gasping in the smoke. She helped us up, we could barely stand at first, but with her help we staggered into the blessed cool air of the night. The building was blazing all over its side and roof. To the south, by the city stockade, the Dutchmen were shouting, but none of them advanced. We ran back to Lea’s waiting Indians. There seemed still a chance that Turber’s ship might still be there. The Indians led us to the spot. But it was gone and the camp was deserted.

Then we crossed swiftly east to the tower. It was daylight when we left the braves, prostate before the tower as it melted into a phantom and vanished.

We were safe—all but Nanette. Of what use to me, this safety? Nanette, to me of all the world most dear, was gone. And this time I had a premonition that she was lost to me forever.