The Eyes of the Woods: A Story of the Ancient Wilderness
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Title: The Eyes of the Woods: A Story of the Ancient Wilderness
Author: Joseph A. Altsheler
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Language: English
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THE EYES OF THE WOODS
* * * * *
By JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER
THE CIVIL WAR SERIES
The Guns of Bull Run
The Guns of Shiloh
The Scouts of Stonewall
The Sword of Antietam
The Star of Gettysburg
The Rock of Chickamaugua
The Shades of the Wilderness
The Tree of Appomattox
THE WORLD WAR SERIES
The Guns of Europe
The Hosts of the Air
The Forest of Swords
THE YOUNG TRAILERS SERIES
The Young Trailers
The Forest Runners
The Keepers of the Trail
The Eyes of the Woods
The Free Rangers
The Riflemen of the Ohio
The Scouts of the Valley
The Border Watch
THE TEXAN SERIES
The Texan Star
The Texan Scouts
The Texan Triumph
THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR SERIES
The Hunters of the Hills
The Shadow of the North
The Rulers of the Lakes
BOOKS NOT IN SERIES
Apache Gold
The Quest of the Four
The Last of the Chiefs
In Circling Camps
A Soldier of Manhattan
The Sun of Saratoga
A Herald of the West
The Wilderness Road
My Captive
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK
* * * * *
THE EYES OF THE WOODS
A Story of the Ancient Wilderness
by
JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER
Author of
"The Young Trailers," "The Shadow of the North,"
"The Hunters of the Hills," "The Tree of Appomattox," Etc.
Illustrated by D. C. Hutchison
[Illustration: "It was the shiftless one who had shot the bear,
and he was proud"]
D. Appleton and Company
New York and London: 1917
Copyright, 1917, by
D. Appleton and Company
Printed in the United States of America
FOREWORD
"The Eyes of the Woods" is an independent story, telling of certain
remarkable events in the life of Henry Ware, Paul Cotter, Shif'less Sol
Hyde, Silent Tom Ross and Long Jim Hart. But it is also a part of the
series dealing with these characters, and is the fourth in point of
time, coming just after "The Keepers of the Trail."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE FLIGHT 1
II. THE GREAT JOKE 23
III. A MERRY NIGHT 45
IV. THE CAPTURED CANOE 67
V. THE PROTECTING RIVER 89
VI. THE OASIS 111
VII. INTO THE NORTH 130
VIII. THE BUFFALO RING 149
IX. THE COVERT 168
X. THE BEAR GUIDE 186
XI. THE GREATER POWERS 209
XII. THE STAG'S COMING 225
XIII. THE LEAPING WOLF 245
XIV. THE WATCHFUL SQUIRREL 266
XV. THE LETTER 286
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"It was the shiftless one who had shot the bear, and
he was proud" _Frontispiece_
"'A lot of 'em are dancin' the scalp dance'" 78
"Red Eagle rose to address his hosts" 204
"A gigantic wolf ... launched himself straight at the
warrior's throat" 254
THE EYES
OF THE WOODS
CHAPTER I
THE FLIGHT
A strong wind swept over the great forest, sending green leaves and
twigs in showers before it, and bringing clouds in battalions from the
west. The air presently grew cold, and then heavy drops of rain came,
pattering at first like shot, but soon settling into a hard and steady
fall that made the day dark and chill, tingeing the whole wilderness
with gloom and desolation.
The deer sought its covert, a buffalo, grazing in a little prairie,
thrust its huge form into a thicket, the squirrel lay snug in its nest
in the hollow of a tree, and the bird in the shelter of the foliage
ceased to sing. The only sounds were those of the elements, and the
world seemed to have returned to the primeval state that had endured for
ages. It was the kingdom of fur, fin and feather, and, so far as the
casual eye could have seen, man had not yet come.
But in the deep cleft of the cliff, from which coign of vantage they had
fought off Shawnee and Miami, Henry Ware, Paul Cotter and Long Jim Hart
sat snug, warm and dry, and looked out at the bitter storm. Near them a
small fire burned, the smoke passing out at the entrance, and at the far
end of the hollow much more wood was heaped. There were five beds of dry
leaves with the blankets lying upon them, useful articles were stored in
the niches of the stone, and jerked meat lay upon the natural shelves.
It was a secret, but cheerful spot in that vast, wet and cold
wilderness. Long Jim felt its comfort and security, as he rose, put
another stick of wood on the fire, and then resumed his seat near the
others.
"I'm sorry the storm came up so soon," said Henry. "Of course, Sol and
Tom are hardened to all kinds of weather, but it's not pleasant to be
caught in the woods at such a time."
"And our ammunition," said Paul. "It wouldn't hurt the lead, of course,
but it would be a disaster for the powder to be soaked through and
through. They'd have to go back to the settlements, and that would mean
a long journey and a lot of lost time."
"I don't think we need be afraid about the powder," said Henry.
"Whatever happens, Sol and Tom will protect it, even if their own bodies
suffer."
"Then I'm thinkin' they'll have to do a lot of protectin'," said Long
Jim. "The wind is blowin' plum' horizontal, an' the rain is sweepin'
'long in sheets."
Henry, despite his consoling words, was very anxious. Since their great
battle with the invading Indian force and the destruction of the cannon,
their supply of ammunition had run very low, and without powder and
bullets they were lost in the wilderness. He walked to the narrow
entrance of the cave, and, standing just where the rain could not reach
him, looked out upon the cold and dripping forest, a splendid figure
clothed in deerskin, specially adapted in both body and mind to
wilderness life.
He saw nothing but the foliage bending before the wind and the chill
sheets sent down by the clouds. The somber sky and the desolation would
not have made him feel lonely, even had he been without his comrades. He
had faced primeval nature too often and he knew it too well to be
overcome or to be depressed by any of its dangers. Yet his heart would
have leaped had he beheld the shiftless and the silent ones, making
their way among the trees, the needed packs on their backs.
"Any sign, Henry?" asked Paul.
"None," replied the tall youth, "but they said they'd be here today."
Paul, who was lying on a great buffalo robe with his feet to the fire,
shifted himself into an easier position. His face expressed content and
he felt no anxiety about the traveling two.
"If Shif'less Sol promised to be here he'll keep his word," he said,
"and Silent Tom will come without making any promises."
"You do talk won'erful well sometimes, Paul," said Long Jim, "an' I
reckon you've put the facts jest right. I ain't goin' to be troubled in
my mind a-tall, a-tall 'bout them fellers. They'll be here. Tom loves
nice tender buffler steak best, an' I'm goin' to have it ready fur him,
while Sol dotes most on fat juicy wild turkey, an' that'll be waitin'
fur him, too."
He turned to his stores, and producing the delicacies his comrades loved
began to fry them over the coals. The pleasant odors filled their rocky
home.
"I give them two a half hour more," he said. "I ain't got any gift uv
second sight. I don't look into the future--nobody does--but I jest
figger on what they are an' what they kin do, an' then I feel shore that
a half hour more is enough."
"Henry," asked Paul, "do you think the Miamis and the Shawnees will come
back after us?"
"I reckon upon it," replied Henry, still watching the wet forest. "Red
Eagle and Yellow Panther are shrewd and thoughtful chiefs, and Braxton
Wyatt and Blackstaffe are full of cunning. They are all able to put two
and two together, and they know that it was we who destroyed their
cannon when they attempted the big attack on the settlements. They'll
look upon us as the scouts and sentinels who see everything they do."
"The eyes of the woods," said Paul.
"Yes, that expresses it, and they'll feel that they're bound to destroy
us. As soon as the warriors get over their panic they'll come back to
put out the eyes that see too much of their deeds. They know, of course,
that we hold this hollow and that we've made a home here for a while."
"But as they won't return for some time I mean to take my comfort while
I can," said Paul sleepily. "I wouldn't exchange this buffalo robe, the
leaves under it, the fire before my feet and the roof of rock over my
head for the finest house in all the provinces. The power of contrast
makes my present situation one of great luxury."
"Power uv contrast! You do use a heap uv big words, Paul," said Long
Jim, "but I 'spose they're all right. Leastways I don't know they ain't.
Now, I'm holdin' back this buffler steak an' wild turkey, 'cause I want
'em to be jest right, when Sol an' Tom set down afore the fire. See
anythin' comin' through the woods, Henry?"
"No, Jim, nothing stirs there."
"It don't bother me. They'll 'pear in good time. They've a full ten
minutes yet, an' thar dinners will be jest right fur 'em. I hate to brag
on myself, but I shorely kin cook. Ain't we lucky fellers, Paul? It
seems to me sometimes that Providence has done picked us out ez speshul
favorites. Good fortune is plum' showered on us. We've got a snug holler
like this, one uv the finest homes a man could live in, an' round us is
a wilderness runnin' thousands uv miles, chock full uv game, waitin' to
be hunted by us. Ev'ry time the savages think they've got us, an' it
looks too ez ef they wuz right, we slip right out uv thar hands an' the
scalps are still growin' full an' free, squar'ly on top uv our heads. We
shorely do git away always, an' it 'pears to me, Paul, that we are
'bout the happiest an' most fort'nate people in the world."
Paul raised his head and looked at Jim, but it was evident to the lad
that his long comrade was in dead earnest, and perhaps he was right. The
lad shifted himself again and the light of the blaze flickered over his
finely-chiseled, scholarly face. Long Jim glanced at him with
understanding.
"Ef you had a book or two, Paul," he said, "you could stay here waitin'
an' be happy. Sometimes I wish that I liked to read. What's in it, Paul,
that kin chain you to one place an' make you content to be thar?"
"Because in the wink of an eye, Jim, it transports you to another world.
You are in new lands, and with new people, seeing what they do and doing
it with them. It gives your mind change, though your body may lie still.
Do you see anything yet, Henry, besides the forest and the rain?"
"A black dot among the trees, Paul, but it's very small and very far,
and it may be a bear that's wandered out in the wet. Besides, it's two
dots that we want to see, not one, and--as sure as I live there are two,
moving this way, though they're yet too distant for me to tell what they
are."
"But since they're two, and they're coming towards us, they ought to be
those whom we're expecting."
"Now they've moved into a space free of undergrowth and I see them more
clearly. They're not bears, nor yet deer. They're living human beings
like ourselves."
"Keep looking, Henry, and tell us whether you recognize 'em."
"The first is a tall man, young, with light hair. He is bent over a
little because of the heavy pack on his back, and the long distance he
has come, but he walks with a swing that I've seen before."
"I reckon," said Long Jim, "that he's close kin to that lazy critter,
Shif'less Sol."
"Closer even than a twin brother," continued Henry. "I'd know him
anywhere. The other just behind him, and bent also a little with his
heavy pack, is amazingly like a friend of ours, an old comrade who talks
little, but who does much."
"None other than Silent Tom," said Paul joyfully, as he rose and joined
Henry at the door. "Yes, there they are, two men, staunch and true, and
they bring the powder and lead. Of course they'd come on time! Nothing
could stop 'em. The whole Shawnee and Miami nations might be in between,
but they'd find a way through."
"An' the buffler steak an' the wild turkey are jest right," called Long
Jim. "Tell 'em to come straight in an' set down to the table."
Henry, putting his fingers to his lips, uttered a long and cheerful
whistle. The shiftless one and the silent one, raising their heads, made
glad reply. They were soaked and tired, but success and journey's end
lay just before them, and they advanced with brisker steps, to be
greeted with strong clasps of the hand and a warm welcome. They entered
the rocky home, put aside the big packs with sighs of relief and spread
out their fingers to the grateful heat.
"That's the last work I mean to do fur a year," said Shif'less Sol.
"'Twuz a big job, a mighty big job fur me, a lazy man, an' now I'm goin'
to rest fur months an' months, while Long Jim waits on me an' feeds me."
"Jest now I'm glad to do it, Sol," said Jim. "Take off your clothes, you
an' Tom, hang 'em on the shelf thar to dry, an' now set to. The steaks
an' the turkey are the finest I ever cooked, an' they're all fur you
two. An' I kin tell you fellers that the sight uv you is good fur weak
eyes."
Shif'less Sol and Silent Tom ate like epicures, while, denuded of their
wet deerskins but wrapped in dry blankets, they basked in the heat.
"Not a drop of rain got at the powder," said the shiftless one
presently, "an' even ef we don't capture any from the Injuns we ought to
hev enough thar to last us many months."
"Did you see anything of the warriors?" asked Henry.
"We hit one trail 'bout fifty miles south uv here, but we didn't have
time to foller it. Still, it's 'nough to show that they're in between us
an' the settlements."
"We expected it. We discovered sufficient while you were gone to be sure
they're going to make a great effort to end us. They look upon us as the
eyes of the woods, and they've concluded that their first business is
with us before they make another attack on our villages."
Shif'less Sol helped himself to a fresh piece of the wild turkey, and
made another fold of the blanket about his athletic body.
"Paul hez talked so much 'bout them old Romans wrapped in their togys
that I feel like one now," he said, "an' I kin tell you I feel pow'ful
fine, too. That wuz a cold rain an' a wet rain, an' the fire an' the
food are mighty good, but it tickles me even more to know how them
renegades an' warriors rage ag'inst us. I've a heap o' respeck fur Red
Eagle an' Yellow Panther, who are great chiefs an' who are fightin' fur
thar rights ez they see 'em, but the madder Blackstaffe an' Wyatt git
the better I like it."
"Me, too," said Silent Tom with emphasis, relapsing then into silence
and his preoccupation with the buffalo steak. The shiftless one regarded
him with a measuring gaze.
"Tom," he said, "why can't you let a feller finish his dinner without
chatterin' furever? I see the day comin' when you'll talk us all plum'
to death."
Silent Tom shook his head in dissent. He had exhausted speech.
Paul, who had remained at the door, watching, announced an increase of
rain and wind. Both were driving so hard that leaves and twigs were
falling, and darkness as of twilight spread over the skies. The cold,
although but temporary, was like that of early winter.
"We needn't expect any attack now," said Henry. "Join us, Paul, around
the fire, and we'll have a grand council, because we must decide how
we're going to meet the great man hunt they're organizing for us."
Paul left the cleft, and sat down on a doubled blanket with his back
against the wall. He felt the full gravity of the crisis, knowing that
hundreds of warriors would be put upon their trail, resolved never
to leave the search until the five were destroyed, but he had full
confidence in his comrades. In all the world there were not five others
so fit to overcome the dangers of the woods, and so able to endure their
hardships.
"I suppose, Henry," said Paul, with his mind full of ancient lore, "now
that the Roman Senate, or its successor, is in session you are its
presiding officer."
"If that's the wish of the rest of you," said Henry.
"It is!" they said all together.
Henry, like Paul, was sitting on his doubled blanket with his back
against the stony wall. Jim Hart, his long legs crossed, occupied a
similar position, and, by the flickering light of the fire, Shif'less
Sol and Silent Tom, wrapped in their blankets, looked in truth like
Roman senators.
"Will you tell us, Henry, what you found out while we wuz away?" asked
the shiftless one. Henry had made a scouting expedition while the two
were gone for the powder and lead.
"I made one journey across the Ohio," replied their chief, "and at
night I went near a Shawnee village. Red Eagle was there, and so were
Blackstaffe and Wyatt. Lying in the bushes near the fire by which they
sat, I could catch enough of their talk to learn that the Shawnee and
Miami nations are going to bend all their energies and powers to our
destruction. That is settled."
"I feel a heap flattered," said Shif'less Sol, "that so many warriors
should be sent ag'inst us, who are only five. What wuz it that old
feller was always sayin', Paul, every time he held up a bunch o' fresh
figs before the noses o' the Roman senators?"
"_Delenda est Carthago_, which is Latin, Sol, and it means just now,
when I give it a liberal translation, that we five must be wiped clean
off the face of the earth."
"I've heard you say often, Paul, that Latin was a dead language, an' so
all them old dead sayin's won't hev any meanin' fur us. I kin live long
on the threats o' Braxton Wyatt an' Blackstaffe, an' so kin all o' us.
But go on, Henry. I 'pologize fur interruptin' the presidin' officer."
"I learned all I could there," continued Henry, "but I was able to
gather only their general intention, that is their resolve to crush us,
a plan that both Wyatt and Blackstaffe urged. However, when I trailed a
large band two days later, and crept near their camp, I discovered
more."
"What wuz it?" exclaimed the shiftless one, leaning forward a little,
his face showing tense and eager in the glow of the flames.
"They're going to spread a net for us. Not one body of warriors will
seek us, but many. Red Eagle will lead a band, Yellow Panther will be
at the head of another, Braxton Wyatt will be in charge of a third,
Blackstaffe will take a fourth, and there will be at least seven or
eight more, though some of them may unite later. Shif'less Sol has put
it right. We'll be honored as men were never honored before in this
wilderness. At least a thousand warriors, brave and skillful men, all,
will be hunting us, two hundred to one and maybe more."
"And while they're hunting us," said Paul, his eyes glistening, "we'll
draw 'em off from the settlements, and we'll be serving our people just
as much as we did when we were destroying the big guns, and filling the
warriors with superstitious alarm."
"True in every word," said Henry, his soul rising for the contest. "Let
'em come on and we'll lead 'em such a chase that their feet will be worn
to the bone, and their minds will be full of despair!"
"You put it right," said the shiftless one. "I think I'll enjoy bein' a
fox fur awhile. The forest is full o' holes an' dens, an' when they dig
me out o' one I'll be off fur another."
"We know the wilderness as well as they do," said Henry, "and we can use
as many tricks as they can. Now, since they're spreading a great net, we
must take the proper steps to evade it. Having besieged our refuge here
once, they'll naturally look again for us in this place. If they catch
us inside they'll sit outside until they starve us to death."
"Which means," said Paul regretfully, "that we must leave our nice dry
home."
"So it does, but not, I think, before tomorrow morning, and we'll use
the hours meanwhile to good advantage. We must begin at once molding
into bullets the lead that Sol and Tom brought."
Every one of the five carried with him that necessary implement in the
wilderness, a bullet mold, and they began the task immediately, all save
Henry, who went outside, despite the fierce rain, and scouted a bit
among the bushes and trees. The four made bullets fast, melting the
lead in a ladle that Jim carried, pouring it into the molds, and then
dropping the shining and deadly pellets one by one into their pouches.
Three of them talked as they worked, but Silent Tom did not speak for a
full hour. Then he said:
"We'll have five hundred apiece."
Shif'less Sol looked at him reprovingly.
"Tom," he said, "I predicted a while ago that the time wuz soon comin'
when you'd talk us to death. You used five words then, when you know
your 'lowance is only one an hour."
Tom Ross flushed under his tan. He hated, above all things, to be
garrulous. "Sorry," he muttered, and continued his work with renewed
energy and speed. The bullets seemed to drop in a shining stream from
his mold into his pouch. But Shif'less Sol talked without ceasing, his
pleasant chatter encouraging them, as music cheers troops for battle.
"It ain't right fur me to hev to work this way," he said, "me sich a
lazy man. I ought to lay over thar on a blanket, an' go to sleep while
Jim does my share ez well ez his own."
"When I'm doin' your share, Sol Hyde," said Long Jim, "you'll be dead.
Not till then will I ever tech a finger to your work. You are a lazy
man, ez you say, an' fur sev'ral years now I've been tryin' to cure you
uv it, but I ain't made no progress that I kin see."
"I don't want you to make progress, Jim. I like to be lazy, an' jest now
I feel pow'ful fine, fed well, an' layin' here, wrapped in a blanket
before a good warm fire."
Henry went back to the cleft, and took another long look. The conditions
had not changed, save that night was coming and the wilderness was chill
and hostile. The wind blew with a steady shrieking sound, and the
driving rain struck like sleet. Leaves fell before it, and in every
depression of the earth the water stood in pools. Over this desolate
scene the faint sun was sinking and the twilight, colder and more solemn
than the day, was creeping. He looked at the wet forest and the coming
dusk, and then back at the dry hollow and the warm fire behind him. The
contrast was powerful, but only one choice was left to them.
"Boys," he said, "we'll have to make the most of tonight."
"Because we must leave our home in the morning?" said Paul.
"Yes, that's it. We'll have to take to the woods, no matter how hard it
is. Chance doesn't favor us this time. I fancy the band led by Braxton
Wyatt will make straight for our house here."
"Since it's the last dry bed I'll have fur some time I'm goin' to
sleep," said Shif'less Sol plaintively. "Everybody pesters a lazy man,
an' I mean to use the little time I hev."
"You've a right to it, Sol," said Henry, "because you've walked long and
far, and you've brought what we needed most. The sooner you and Tom go
to sleep the better. Paul, you join 'em and Jim and I will watch."
The shiftless one and the silent one turned on their sides, rested their
heads on their arms and in a minute or two were off to the land of
slumber. Paul was slower, but in a quarter of an hour or so he followed
them to the same happy region. Long Jim put out the fire, lest the gleam
of the coals through the cleft should betray their presence to a
creeping enemy--although neither he nor Henry expected any danger at
present--and took his place beside his watchful comrade.
The two did not talk, but in the long hours of rain and darkness they
guarded the entrance. Their eyes became so used to the dusk that they
could see far, but they saw nothing alive save, late in the night, a
lumbering black bear, driven abroad and in the storm by some restless
spirit. Long Jim watched the ungainly form, as it shambled out of sight
into a thicket.
"A bad conscience, I reckon," he said. "That b'ar would be layin' snug
in his den ef he didn't hev somethin' on his mind. He's ramblin' 'roun'
in the rain an' cold, cause's he's done a wrong deed, an' can't sleep
fur thinkin' uv it. Stole his pardner's berries an' roots, mebbe."
"Perhaps you're right, Jim," Henry said, "and animals may have
consciences. We human beings are so conceited that we think we alone
feel the difference between right and wrong."
"I know one thing, Henry, I know that b'ars an' panthers wouldn't leave
thar own kind an' fight ag'inst thar own race, as Braxton Wyatt an'
Blackstaffe do. That black b'ar we jest saw may feel sore an' bad, but
he ain't goin' to lead no expedition uv strange animals ag'inst the
other black b'ars."
"You're right, Jim."
"An' fur that reason, Henry, I respeck a decent honest black b'ar, even
ef he is mad at hisself fur some leetle mistake, an' even ef he can't
read an' write an' don't know a knife from a fork more than I do a
renegade man who's huntin' the scalps uv them he ought to help."
"Well spoken, Jim. Your sense of right and wrong is correct nearly
always. Like you, I've a lot of respect for the black bear, and also for
the deer and the buffalo and the panther and the other people of the
woods. Do you think the rain is dying somewhat?"
"'Pears so to me. It may stop by day an' give us a chance to leave
without a soakin'."
They relapsed again into a long silence, but they saw that their hope
was coming true. The wind was sinking, its shriek shrinking to a whisper
and then to a sigh. The rain ceased to beat so hard, coming by and by
only in fitful showers, while rays of moonlight, faint at first, began
to appear in the western sky. In another half hour the last shower came
and passed, but the forest was still heavy with dripping waters. Henry,
nevertheless, knew that it was time to go, and he awakened the sleepers.
"We must make up our packs," he said.
The five worked with speed and skill. All the lead, newly brought, had
been molded into bullets, and the powder, save that in their horns,
was carried in bags. This, with the blankets and portions of food,
constituted most of their packs. Some furs and skins they left to those
who might come, and then they slipped from the warm hollow, which had
furnished such a grateful shelter to them.
"It's just as well," said Henry, "that we should let 'em think we're
still in there. Then they may waste a day or two in approaching, so hide
your footprints."
The earth was soft from the rain, but the stony outcrop ran a long
distance, and they walked on it cautiously so far as it went, after
which they continued on the fallen trunks and brush, with which the
forest had been littered by the winds of countless years. They were
able, without once touching foot to ground, to reach a brook, into which
they stepped, following its course at least two miles. When they emerged
at last they sat down on stones and let the water run from their
moccasins and leggings.
"I don't like getting wet, this way," said Henry, "but there was no
choice. At least, we know we've come a great distance and have left no
trail. There'll be no chance to surprise us now. How long would you say
it is till day, Sol?"
"'Bout two hours," replied the shiftless one, "an' I 'spose we might ez
well stay here a while. We're south o' the hollow an' Wyatt an' his band
are purty shore to come out o' the north. The woods are mighty wet, but
the day is goin' to be without rain, an' a good sun will dry things
fast. What we want is to git a new home fur a day or two, in some deep
thicket."
They began to search and presently found a dense tangle, with several
large trees growing near the center of it, the trunk of one of them
hollowed out by time. In the opening they put their bags of powder, part
of their bullets and other supplies, and then, wrapped in their
blankets, sat down in the brush before it.
"Now, Henry," said Shif'less Sol, "it's shore that we ain't goin' to be
besieged, though our empty holler may be, an' that bein' the case, an'
the trouble bein' passed fur the moment, you an' Jim, who watched most
o' the night, go to sleep, an' Tom an' Paul too might take up thar naps
whar they left 'em off. I'll do the watchin', an' I'll take a kind o'
pride in doin' it all by myself."
The others made no protest, but, leaning their backs against the tree
trunks, soon fell asleep, while the shiftless one, rifle under his arm,
went to the edge of the canebrake, and began his patrol. He bore little
resemblance to a lazy man now. He was, next to Henry, the greatest
forest runner of the five, a marvel of skill, endurance and perception,
with a mighty heart beating beneath his deerskins, and an intellect of
wonderful native power, reasoning and drawing deductions under his
thatch of blonde hair.
Shif'less Sol listened to the drip, drip of water from the wet boughs
and leaves, and he watched a great sun, red and warm, creep slowly over
the eastern hills. He was not uncomfortable, nor was he afraid of
anything, but he was angry. He remembered with regret the pleasant
hollow, so dry and snug. It belonged, by right of discovery and
improvement, to his comrades and himself, but it might soon be defiled
by the presence of Indians, led by the hated renegade, Braxton Wyatt.
They would sleep on his favorite bed of leaves, they would cook where
Long Jim Hart had cooked so well, though they could never equal him, and
they would certainly take as their own the furs and skins they had been
compelled to leave behind.
The more he thought of it the stronger his wrath grew. Had it not been
for his fear of leaving a betraying trail he would have gone back to see
if the warriors were already approaching the hollow; but his sense of
duty and obvious necessity kept him at the edge of the brake in which
his comrades lay, deep in happy slumber.
Morning advanced, warm and beautiful, sprinkling the world at first
with silver and then with gold, the sky gradually turning to a deep
velvety blue, as intense as any that the shiftless one had ever seen.
The myriads of raindrops stood out at first like silver beads on grass
and leaves, and then dried up rapidly under the brilliant rays of the
sun. A light breeze blew through the foliage, and sang a pleasant song
as it blew.
Shif'less Sol felt a wonderful uplift of the spirits. In the darkness
and rain of the night before he might have been depressed somewhat at
leaving their good shelter for the wet wilderness, but in the splendid
dawn he was all buoyancy and confidence.
"Let 'em come," he said to himself. "Let Braxton Wyatt an' Blackstaffe
an' all the Miamis an' Shawnees hunt us fur a year, but they won't get
us, no, not one of us."
Then he sank silently in the deep grass and slid cautiously away, not
toward the dense brake, but to a point well to one side. His acute ear
had heard a sound which was not a part of the morning, and while it
might be made by a wild animal, then again it might be caused by wilder
man. He thanked his wary soul, when, looking above the tops of the
grass, he saw two warriors, Shawnees by their paint, emerge from the
woods and walk northward, to be followed presently by a full score more,
Braxton Wyatt himself at their head.
And so the band had come out of the south, instead of the north!
Doubtless they had circled about before approaching, in order to make
the surprise complete, and the trigger drew the finger of the shiftless
one like a magnet, as he looked at the renegade, the most ruthless
hunter among those who hunted the five. Although the temptation to do so
was strong, Shif'less Sol did not fire, knowing that his bullet would
draw the attack of the band upon his comrades and himself. Instead, he
followed them cautiously about half a mile.
He was confirmed in his opinion--in truth, little short of certainty in
the first instance--that they were marching against the hollow, and its
supposed inmates, as presently they began to advance with extreme care,
kneeling down in the undergrowth and sending out flankers. Shif'less Sol
laughed. It was a low laugh, but deep, and full of unction. He knew that
the farther march of Wyatt and his warriors would be very slow, having
in mind the deadly rifles of the five, the muzzles of which they would
feel sure were projecting from the mouth of the rocky retreat. It was
likely that the entire morning would be spent in an enveloping movement,
dusky figures creeping forward inch by inch in a semi-circle, and then
nothing would be inside the semi-circle.
Shif'less Sol laughed to himself again, and with the same deep and
heartfelt unction. Then he turned and went back to his comrades, who yet
slept soundly in the brake. The cane was so dense that they lay in the
dimness of the shadows, and there was no disturbing light upon their
eyes to awaken them. Shif'less Sol contemplated them with satisfaction,
and then he sat down silently near them. He saw no reason to awaken
them. Braxton Wyatt was now formally arranging the siege of the rocky
refuge and its vanished defenders, and he would not interrupt him for
worlds in that congenial task. For the third time he laughed to himself
with depth and unction.
The sun rose higher in a sky that arched in its perfect blue over a day
of dazzling beauty. The last drop of rain on leaf or grass dried up, and
the forest was a deep green, suffused and tinted, though, with a
luminous golden glow from the splendid sun. The shiftless one raised his
head and inhaled its clear, sweet odors, the great heart under the
deerskins and the great brain under the thatch of hair alike sending
forth a challenge. Not all the Shawnees, not all the Miamis, not all the
renegades could drive the five from this mighty, unoccupied wilderness
of Kain-tuck-ee, which his comrades and he loved and in which they had
as good a right as any Indian or renegade that ever lived.
It was so still in the canebrake that the birds over the head of the
watcher began to sing. Another black bear lumbered toward them, and,
catching the strange, human odor, lumbered away again. A deer, a tall
buck, holding up his head, sniffed the air, and then ran. Wild turkeys
in a distant tree gobbled, a bald eagle clove the air on swift wing, but
the sleepers slept placidly on.
CHAPTER II
THE GREAT JOKE
Mid-morning and Henry awoke, yawning a little and stretching himself
mightily. Then he looked questioningly at Shif'less Sol who sat in a
position of great luxury with his doubled blanket between his back and
a tree trunk, and his rifle across his knees. The look of satisfaction
that had come there in the morning like a noon glow still overspread his
tanned and benevolent countenance.
"Well, Sol?"
"Well, Henry?"
"What has happened while we slept?"
"Nothin', 'cept that Braxton Wyatt an' twenty Shawnee warriors passed,
takin' no more notice o' us than ef we wuz leaves o' the forest."
"Advancing on our old house?"
"Yes, they've set the siege by now."
"And we're not there. I'll wake the others. They must share in the
joke."
Paul, Long Jim and Silent Tom wiped the last wisp of sleep from their
eyes, and, when they heard the tale of a night and a morning, they too
laughed to themselves with keen enjoyment.
"What will we do, Henry?" Paul asked.
"First, we'll eat breakfast, though it's late. Then we'll besiege the
besiegers. While they're drawing the net which doesn't enclose us we
might as well do 'em all the harm we can. We're going to be dangerous
fugitives."
The five laughed in unison.
"We'll make Braxton Wyatt and the Shawnees think the forest is full of
enemies," said Paul.
Meanwhile they took their ease, and ate breakfast of wild turkey,
buffalo steak and a little corn bread that they hoarded jealously. The
sun continued its slow climb toward the zenith and Paul, looking up
through the canes, thought he had never seen a finer day. Then he
remembered something.
"I suggest that we don't move today," he said. "They won't approach the
hollow until night anyway, and it wouldn't hurt for us to lie here in
the shelter of the brake and rest until dark."
Henry looked at him in surprise.
"Your idea is sudden and I don't understand it," he said.
"So it is, Henry, but it never occurred to me until a moment ago that
this was Sunday. We haven't observed Sunday in a long time, and now is
our chance. We can't wholly forget our training."
He spoke almost with apology, but the leader did not upbraid him.
Instead, he looked at the others and found agreement in their eyes.
"Paul talks in a cur'ous manner an' has cur'ous notions sometimes," said
Shif'less Sol, "but I don't say they ain't good. It's a long time since
we've paid any 'tention to Sunday, but the idee sticks in my mind. Mebbe
it would be a good way fur us to start our big fight ag'inst the tribes
an' the renegades."
"When Cromwell and his Ironsides advanced against the Royalists," said
Paul, "they knelt down and prayed first on the very field of battle.
Then they advanced with their pikes in a solid line, and nothing was
ever able to stand before them."
"Then we'll keep Sunday," said Henry decisively.
Paul, feeling a thrill of satisfaction, lay back on his blanket. The
idea that they should observe Sunday, that it would be a good omen and
beginning, had taken hold of him with singular power. His character was
devout and a life in the wilderness among its mighty manifestations
deepened its quality. Like the Indian he wanted the spirits of earth and
air on his side.
The five had acquired the power of silence and to rest intensely when
nothing was to be done. Their food finished, they lay back against their
doubled blankets in a calm and peace that was deep and enduring. It was
not necessary to go to the edge of the canebrake, as in the brilliant
light of the day they might be noticed there, and, where they lay, they
could see anyone who came long before he arrived.
Paul, as he breathed, absorbed belief and confidence in their success.
Surely so bright a sky bending over them was a good omen! and the tall
canes themselves, as they bent before the wind, whispered to him that
all would be well. Henry in his own way was no less imaginative than his
young comrade. He let his eyelids droop, not to sleep, but to listen.
Then as no one of the five stirred, he too heard the voice of the wind,
but it sang to him a song far more clear than any Paul heard. It told of
triumphs achieved and others yet to come, and, as the great youth lifted
his lazy lids and looked around at the others, he felt that they were
equal to any task.
The afternoon, keeping all its promise of brilliant beauty, waxed and
waned. The great sun dipped behind the forest. The twilight came, at
first a silver veil, then a robe of dusk, and after it a night luminous
with a clear moon and myriads of stars wrapped the earth, touching every
leaf and blade of grass with a white glow.
Still the five did not stir. For a long time they had seemed a part of
the forest itself, and the wild animals and birds, rejoicing in the dry
and beautiful night after the stormy one that had passed, took them to
be such, growing uncommonly brave. The restless black bear came back,
looked at them, and then sniffing disdainfully went away to hunt for
roots. The great wings of the eagle almost brushed the cane that hung
over Henry's head, but the little red eyes were satisfied that what
they saw was not living, and the dark body flashed on in search of its
prey.
"Three hours more at least, Paul," said Henry at last, "until Sunday is
over."
"And I suggest that we wait the full three hours before we make any
movement. I know it looks foolish in me to say it, but the feeling is
very strong on me that it will be a good thing to do."
"Not foolish at all, Paul. I look at it just as you do, and since we've
begun the observance we ought to carry it through to the finish. You
agree with me, don't you, boys?"
"I shorely do," said the shiftless one.
"Ef Paul thinks it's right it's right," said Long Jim.
"Can't hurt anythin'; it may help," said Silent Tom.
They resumed their silence and waiting, and meanwhile they listened
attentively for any sound that might come from those who were stalking
their old home. But the deep stillness continued, save for the light
song of the wind that sang continually among the leaves. Henry, in his
heart, was truly glad of Paul's idea, and that they had concluded to
observe it. A spiritual atmosphere clothed them all. They had come of
religious parents, and the borderer, moreover, always personified the
great forces of nature, before which he was reverential. The five now
were like the Romans and the Greeks, who were anxious to propitiate the
gods ere going into action.
Henry gazed at the moon, a silver globe in the heavens, and he
distinctly saw the man upon its surface, who returned his looks with
benevolence, while the countless stars about it quivered and glittered
and shed a propitious light. Then he gazed at his comrades, resting
against the trunks of the trees, and unreal in the silver mist. They
were yet so still that the wild animals might well take them to be
lifeless, and the power to sit there so long without stirring a muscle
was one acquired only by warriors and scouts.
A faint whining cry came out of the silver dark, a sound that had
traveled a great distance on waves of air, and every one of the five
understood it, on the instant. It was one of the most ominous sounds of
the forest, a sound full of ferocity and menace, the howl of the wolf,
but they knew it came from human lips, that, in truth, it was a signal
ordered by the leader of the besieging band. Presently the reply, a
similar cry, came from another point of the compass, traveling like the
first on waves of air, until it died away in a savage undernote.
"They've probably set their lines all the way around our hollow, and
they're sure now they'll hold us fast," said Henry, with grim irony.
"That's 'bout it, I take it," said Shif'less Sol, "an' it 'pears to me
that this is the time for us to laugh, purvidin' it won't be in any way
breakin' uv our agreement to keep the day till its very last minute."
He looked questioningly at Paul.
"To laugh is not against our compact," replied the lad, "since it has
such good cause. When a net is cast for us, and those who cast it are
so confident we're in it, we've a right to laugh as long as we're
outside it."
"Then," said Shif'less Sol with conviction, "ez thar's so much to laugh
at, an' we've all agreed to laugh, we'll laugh."
The five accordingly laughed, but the laughs were soundless. Their eyes
twinkled, their lips twitched, but the canebrake, save for the ceaseless
rustle of the singing wind, was as silent as ever. No one five feet away
would have known that anybody was laughing.
"Thar, I feel better," said Shif'less Sol, when his face quit moving,
"but though they're a long distance off I kin see with my mind's eyes
Braxton Wyatt an' his band stalkin' us in our home in the rock, an'
claspin' us in a grip that can't be shook off."
"Shettin' down on us," said Silent Tom.
The shiftless one bent upon him a reproving look.
"Thar you are, Tom!" he said, "talkin' 'us to death ag'in. Can't you
ever give your tongue no rest?"
Silent Tom blushed once more under his tan, but said nothing, abashed by
his comrade's stern rebuke.
"Yes, I kin see Braxton Wyatt an' his band stalkin' us," resumed
Shif'less Sol, having the floor, or rather the earth, again to himself.
"Braxton's heart is full o' unholy glee. He is sayin' to hisself that we
can't git away from him this time, that he's stretched 'bout us a ring,
through which we'll never break. He's laughin' to hisself jest az we
laugh to ourselves, though with less cause. He's sayin' that he an' his
warriors will set down at a safe distance from our rifles an' wait
patiently till we starve to death or give up an' trust ourselves to his
tender mercy. He's braggin' to hisself 'bout his patience, how he kin
set thar fur a month, ef it's needed, an' I kin read his mind. He's
thinkin' that even ef we give up it won't make no diff'unce. Our scalps
will hang up to dry jest the same, an' he will take most joy in lookin'
at yours, Henry, your ha'r is so fine an' so thick an' so yellow, an' he
hez such a pizen hate o' you."
"Your fancy is surely alive tonight, Sol," said Henry, "and I believe
the thought of Braxton Wyatt's disappointment later on is what has
stirred it up so much."
"I 'low you're right, Henry, but I'm thinkin' 'bout the grief o' that
villain, Blackstaffe, too. Oh, he'll be a terrible sorrowful man when
the net's closed, an' he finds thar's nothin' in it. It will be the
great big disappointment o' his life an' I 'low it will be some time
afore Moses Blackstaffe kin recover from the blow."
The silent laugh again overspread the countenance of the shiftless one
and lingered there. It was one of the happiest moments that he had ever
known. There was no malice in his nature, but he knew the renegades were
hunting for his life with a vindictiveness and cruelty surpassing that
of the Indians themselves, and he would not have been true to human
nature had he not obeyed the temptation to rejoice.
"A half hour more and Sunday will have passed," said Henry, who was
again attentively surveying the man in the moon.
"An' then," said Long Jim, "we'll take a look at what them fellers are
doin'."
"It will be a good move on our part, and if we can think of any device
to make 'em sure we're still in the hollow it will help still more."
"Which means," said Paul, "that one of us must pass through their lines
and fire upon them from the inside, that is, he must give concrete proof
that he's in the net."
"Big words!" muttered Long Jim.
"I think you put it about right," said Henry.
"Mighty dang'rous," said Shif'less Sol.
"I expected to undertake it," said Henry.
"You speak too quick," said the shiftless one. "I said it wuz dang'rous
'cause I want it fur myself. It's got to be a cunnin' sort o' deed, jest
the kind that will suit me."
"By agreement I'm the leader, and I've chosen this duty for myself,"
said Henry firmly.
"Thar are times when I don't like you a-tall, a-tall, Henry," said
Shif'less Sol plaintively. "You're always pickin' out the good risky
adventures fur yourse'f. Ef thar's any fine, lively thing that will
make a feller's ha'r stan' up straight on end an' the chills chase one
another up an' down his back, you're sure to grab it off, an' say it wuz
jest intended fur you. That ain't the right way to treat the rest o' us
nohow."
"No, it ain't," grumbled Silent Tom, but Shif'less Sol turned fiercely
on him.
"Beginnin' to talk us to death ag'in, are you, Tom Ross?" he exclaimed.
"Runnin' on forever with that garrylous tongue o' yourn! You jest let
me have this out with Henry!"
Again Tom Ross blushed in the darkness and under the tan. A terrible
fear seized him that he had indeed grown garrulous, a man of many and
empty words. It was all right for Shif'less Sol to talk on forever,
because the words flowed from his lips in a liquid stream, like water
coursing down a smooth channel, but it did not become Tom Ross, from
whom sentences were wrenched as one would extract a tooth. Paul laughed
softly but with intense enjoyment.
"When I die, seventy or eighty years from now," he said, "and go to
Heaven, I expect, when I pass through the golden gates, to hear a steady
and loud but pleasant buzz. It will go on and on, without ceasing. Maybe
it will be the droning of bees, but it won't be. Maybe it will be the
roar of water over a fall, but it won't be. Maybe it will be a strong
wind among the boughs, but it won't be. Oh, no, it will be none of those
things. It will be one Solomon Hyde, formerly of Kentucky, and they'll
tell me that his tongue has never stopped since he came to Heaven ten
years before, and off in one corner there'll be a silent individual, Tom
Ross, who entered Heaven at the same time. And they'll say that in all
the ten years he has spoken only once and that was when he passed the
gates, looked all around and said: 'Good, but not much better than the
Ohio Country.'"
Both Shif'less Sol and Silent Tom grinned, but the discussion was not
pursued, as Henry announced that he was about to leave them in order to
enter the Indian ring, and make Wyatt and the warriors think the rocky
hollow was defended.
"The rest of you would better stay in the canebrakes or the thickets,"
he said.
"We won't go so fur away that we can't hear any signal you may make,"
said Long Jim Hart. "Give us the cry uv the wolf. Thar are lots uv
wolves in these woods, Injun an' other kinds, but we know yourn from the
rest, Henry."
"And don't take too big risks," said Paul.
"I won't," said Henry, and he quickly vanished from their sight among
the bushes. Two hundred yards away, and he stopped, but he could not
hear them moving. Nor had he expected that any sound would come from
them to him, knowing that they would lie wholly still for a long time,
awaiting his passage through the Indian lines.
The heart of the great youth swelled within him. As truly a son of the
wilderness as primitive man had been thousands of years ago, before
civilization had begun, when he depended upon the acuteness of his
senses to protect him from monstrous wild beasts, he was as much at home
now as the ordinary man felt in city streets, and he faced his great
task not only without apprehension, but with a certain delight. He had
the Indian's cunning and the white man's intellect as well, and he was
eager to match wits and cunning against those of the warriors.
He would have been glad had the night turned a little darker, but the
full burnished moon and showers of stars gave no promise of it, and he
must rely upon his own judgment to seek the shadows, and to pass where
they lay thickest. The forest, spread about him, was magnificent with
oak and beech and elm of great size, but the moonlight and the starshine
shone between the trunks, and moving objects would have been almost as
conspicuous there as in the day. Hence he sought the brushwood, and
advancing swiftly in its shelter, he approached the place that had been
such a comfortable home for the five, but which they had thought it wise
to abandon. A whimsical fancy, a desire to repay them for the evil they
were doing, seized him. He would not only draw the warriors on, but he
would annoy and tantalize them. He would make them think the evil
spirits were having sport with them.
A half mile, and he sank to the earth, lying so still that anyone a yard
away could not have heard him breathe. Two warriors stood under the
boughs of an oak and they were looking in the direction of the hollow.
He had no doubt they were watchers, posted there to prevent the flight
of the besieged in that direction, and he was shaken with silent
laughter at this spectacle of men who stood guard that none might pass,
when there was none to pass. He was already having his revenge upon them
for the trouble they were causing and he felt that the task of repayment
was beginning well.
The two Shawnees walked back and forth a little, searching everything
with their questing eyes, but they did not speak. Presently they turned
somewhat to one side, and Henry, still using the shelter of the
brushwood, flitted silently past them. Three or four hundred yards
farther and he lay down, laughing again to himself. It had been
ridiculously easy. All his wild instincts were alive and leaping, and
his senses became preternaturally acute. He heard some tiny animals of
the cat tribe, alarmed by his presence, stealing away among the bushes,
and the sound of an owl moving ever so slightly in the thick leaves on a
bough came to his ears. But he was so still that the owl became still
too, and did not know when he arose and moved on.
Henry believed that the two warriors were merely guards on the outer rim
and that soon he would encounter more, a belief verified within ten
minutes. Then he heard talking and saw Braxton Wyatt himself and three
Shawnees, one a very large man who seemed to be second in command. Lying
at his ease and in a good covert he watched them, laughing again and
again to himself. For such as he this was, in truth, fine sport, and he
enjoyed it to the utmost. Wyatt was looking toward the point where the
cliffs that contained the rocky hollow showed dimly in the silver haze.
His face expressed neither triumph nor confidence, and Henry, seeing
that he was troubled, enjoyed it.
"I wish we knew how well they are provided with food and ammunition," he
heard him say.
"They will have plenty," the big warrior said. "The mighty young chief,
Ware, will see to it."
Henry felt a thrill at the words. The Shawnee was paying a tribute to
him, and he could not keep from hearing it.
"They beat us off before," said Wyatt gloomily. "We had them trapped in
the hollow, but we could not carry it."
"But this time," said the warrior, "we will sit down before it, and wait
until they come out, trembling with weakness and begging us to give them
food that they may keep the life in their bodies."
"It will be a sight to make my eyes and heart rejoice," said Braxton
Wyatt.
The hammer and trigger of Henry's rifle were a powerful magnet for his
hand. The young renegade's voice expressed so much revenge and malice,
so much accumulated poison that the world would be a much better place
without him. Then why not rid it of his presence? He stood there
outlined sharp and clear in the silver dusk, and a marksman, such as
Henry, could not miss. But his will restrained the eager fingers. It was
not wise now, nor could he shoot even a renegade from ambush. Using the
extremest caution, lest the moving of a leaf or a blade of grass betray
his presence, he passed on, and now he was sure that he was well within
the Indian ring.
Advancing more rapidly he ascended the slope, and came to the hollow,
which he reached while yet under cover. He waited a long time to see
whether Wyatt had posted any sentinels within eyeshot or earshot, as he
had no desire to be trapped inside, and then, feeling sure that they
were not near, he entered.
Their home was undisturbed. The dead ashes of their last fire lay
untouched. Various articles that they could not take with them were
undisturbed on the rocky shelves. But he gave the interior only a few
rapid and questing looks, and then he went outside again, his mind set
on a dense clump of bushes that grew near the entrance.
He buried himself in the heavy shade, but he did not seek it alone
because of shelter. He saw that a good line of retreat led from it over
the shoulder of the hill, and then down a slope that admitted good
speed. Having made sure of his ground, he filled his lungs and sent
forth the cry of the wolf, long and sinister and full of a power that
carried far over the forest. He knew that the listening four would hear
it, and he knew, too, that it would reach the ears of Braxton Wyatt and
all the Shawnees. And hearing it, they would be absolutely sure that the
five were now in the hollow where they might be held until they dropped
dead of hunger or yielded themselves to the mercy of those who knew no
mercy.
Fierce, triumphant yells came from all the points of the circle about
him, and once more and with deep content Henry laughed. He would fool
them, he would play with them, and meanwhile his comrades, to keep the
sport going, might sting them on the flank. After the yells, the night
resumed its usual silence, and Henry, lying in his covert, watched on
all sides, while he laid his plans to vex and torment Braxton Wyatt and
his band. He knew it was an easy matter for his comrades and himself to
escape this particular expedition sent against them, but it was likely
that they would encounter other and larger forces farther south, and he
wished the battlefield, if it shifted at all, to shift northward. Hence
he intended to hold Wyatt there as long as possible.
After a while, he was sure that he saw the tops of some bushes moving in
a direction not with the wind, and he was equally sure that Shawnees
were coming forward. Nearly half an hour passed and then a bead of fire
appeared as a rifle was discharged, and the shot had an uncommonly loud
sound in the clear, noiseless night. He heard, too, the click of the
bullet as it struck against the stone near the mouth of the hollow, and
once more he laughed. It was an amusing night for him. The warriors, now
that they had crept within range, would be sure to sprinkle the stone
around the cleft with bullets, and lead was too precious in the
wilderness to be wasted.
He flattened himself upon the earth, merely keeping his rifle thrust
forward for an emergency, and he blended so perfectly with grass and
foliage that not even the keen eyes of Shawnees ten feet away could have
detected him. A second shot was fired, and he heard the bullet clipping
leaves not far away; a third followed and then a volley, all of the
bullets striking at some point near the entrance. The volley was
followed by a long and fierce war whoop and far down the valley Henry
caught sight of a dusky form. Quick as lightning he raised his rifle,
pulled the trigger and the figure disappeared. Then another war whoop,
now expressing grief and rage, came, and he knew that the band would
think the bullet had been sent from the mouth of the rock fortress. He
crept a little farther away, lest a stalker should stumble upon him, and
reloaded his rifle.
He lay quite still a long time, and the first sound he heard was of slow
and cautious footsteps. He listened to them attentively and he wondered.
A warrior surely would not come walking in a manner that soon became
shambling. Putting his ear to the earth he heard a soft and uncertain
crush, crush, and then, raising his head a little, he traced a dark,
ambiguous figure. But he knew it, nevertheless, by the two red eyes
blinking in doubt and dismay. It was a black bear, doubtless the same
one they had already disturbed.
Here he was, like Henry himself, within the Shawnee ring, but, unlike
him, not there of his own free will. The shots and the war whoops had
terrified him to the utmost, and they had always driven him back toward
the center of the circle. Henry, moved by a spirit that was as much
friendliness as sport, uttered a low woof. The bear paused, raised his
head a little higher, and inhaled the wind. At any other time he would
have fled in dismay from the human odor, but he was a harried and
frightened black bear and that woof was the first friendly sound he had
heard in a day. So he remained where he was, his figure crouched, his
red eyes quivering with curiosity. Henry smiled to himself. His feeling
for the animal was one of pure friendship, allied with sympathy. He knew
that if the bear tried to plunge through the Indian ring in his panic
they would certainly kill him. Moreover, they would cook him and eat him
the next day. The Indians liked fat young bear better than venison.
It was a whimsical impulse of his generous nature to try to save the
bear, and he edged around until the puzzled animal was between him and
the mouth of the cave. The bear once started to run to the west, but a
rifle shot fired suddenly in that segment of the circle stopped him. He
remained again undecided, his tongue lolling out and his red eyes full
of dismay. Henry crept slowly toward him, uttering the low woof, woof,
several times, and bruin, disturbed in his mind and unable to judge
between friends and enemies, edged away as slowly, until his back was
almost at the mouth of the hollow. Then, with all the possibilities
against such a combination of chances, it occurred nevertheless. A
louder woof than usual from him was followed almost instantly by a
Shawnee rifle shot, and the frightened bear, giving back, almost fell
into the crevice. Then whirling, and seeing a refuge before him, he
darted inside.
Henry, retreating into the dense bushes, flattened himself in the grass,
and laughed once more. He had laughed many times that night, but now his
mirth had a fresh savor. The bear and not the Indians had become the new
occupant of their old home, and, despite the fact that it had been so
recently a human habitation, he felt quite sure the animal, owing to his
terror and the confusion of his ideas, would remain there until morning
at least. The Shawnees would exert all their patience and skill in the
siege of one bear that lived chiefly on roots, the greatest crime of
which was to rob bees of their stored honey.
He raised himself until he could see the mouth of the cave, but all was
still and dark there. Evidently the bear was at home and was using all
available comforts. He would not come out to face the terror of the
shots and of human faces. Henry could imagine him with his head almost
hidden in one of their beds of leaves, and gradually acquiring
confidence because danger was no longer before his eyes.
His whimsical little impulse having met with complete success he lay in
his shroud of bushes and intense enjoyment thrilled through every vein.
He had not known a happier night. All his primitive instincts were
gratified. The hunted was having sport with the hunters, and it was rare
sport too.
The mournful howl of a wolf came faintly from the northern rim of the
forest. It made Henry start and wonder a little. He thought at first the
cry had been sent forth by Silent Tom or Shif'less Sol, but as it was
inside the Indian circle he concluded it must have been made by one of
the warriors. But he changed his mind again, when the long, whining cry
was repeated. His hearing was not less acute than his sight, able to
differentiate between the finest shades of sound, and he felt sure now
that the howl of a wolf was made by a wolf itself, the real genuine
article in howls, true to the wilderness. When several more of the
uneasy whines came doubt was left no longer. The Indian ring that had
enclosed the rocky hollow and the black bear had also enclosed an entire
pack of wolves. It complicated the situation, but for Wyatt and his
band, not for Henry, and once more the spontaneous laugh bubbled up from
his throat.
He inferred now that he had not seen all of the Indian force. There were
probably other detachments to the west and north that had been drawn in
to complete the ring, but he did not care how many they might be. The
more they were the greater their troubles. A soft pad, pad in the
thicket roused him to the keenest attention. Some larger animal was
approaching him, unaware of his presence, the wind blowing in the wrong
direction. But the wind came right for Henry and soon he discovered a
strong feline odor. He knew that it was a panther, and presently he saw
it in the moonlight, yellowish and monstrous, the hugest beast of its
kind that he had ever beheld.
But the panther, despite its size and strength, would run away from man,
and Henry understood. The Indian ring had closed about it too, and,
frightened, it was seeking refuge. Powerful, clawed and toothed for
battle, it would not fight unless it was driven into a corner, and then
it would fight with ferocity. Henry reflected philosophically that the
net might miss the particular fish for which it was cast and yet catch
others. If the Indians closed in they had the panther and the black bear
and perhaps the pack of wolves too. What would they do with them? His
irrepressible mirth bubbled up. It was their problem, not his.
Resolved not to intervene again in these delicate affairs, he crouched
as closely as he could to the earth, wishing the panther neither to see
nor to hear him, but curious himself to know what it would do. The beast
stalked out into the open, and it was magnified greatly by the luminous
quality of the moonlight. It looked like one of its primitive ancestors
in the far dawn of time, when man fought for his life with the stone
axe. But the panther was afraid. The howls of the wolf, both the real
and the false, frightened him. His instinct too told him that he was
walled around by beings that could slay at a distance, and, within a
certain area, he was a prisoner. He was sorely troubled and his great
body trembled with nervous quivers. The wolf pack howled again, and he
must have found something more alarming than ever in it, as he sheered
off to one side, and his tawny eyes caught a glimpse of a black opening
that almost certainly led to a magnificent den and refuge.
But the panther was cautious. He lived a life in which the foresight
that comes from experience was compelled to play a great part. He did
not dive directly for the cleft, and he might not have gone in at all,
had not a sudden shift in the wind brought to him the human odor that
came from the body lying so near in the bushes. Driven by his impulse he
turned away and then sprang straight into the hollow.
Henry had not expected this sudden movement on the part of the panther,
and he rose to his knees to see what would happen. A terrible growling
and snarling and the shuffling of heavy bodies came instantly from the
dusky interior. A moment or two later the panther bounded out, a huge
ball of yellowish fur, in which two frightened and angry red eyes
glared. Henry saw several streaks of blood on him and he stared at the
animal, amazed. He did not know that a black bear could make such a
fight against a powerful feline brute, but evidently, wild with terror,
he had used all his claws and teeth at once. The panther caught sight of
Henry looking at him, and, uttering a scream or two, bounded into the
bushes. In the cave, the bear remained silent and triumphant.
"What will happen next?" said Henry to himself.
The howl of the wolf pack came in reply.
CHAPTER III
A MERRY NIGHT
The long whine, a mingling of ferocity, fear and perhaps of hunger too,
came from a point nearer than before, and Henry was confirmed in his
opinion that Wyatt's main band had been joined by other and smaller
ones, thus enabling them to form a circle practically continuous,
through which the wolves had not dared to break. The pack, moreover, was
steadily being driven in toward the center of the circle which was
naturally the rocky hollow. He foresaw further complications.
Henry was very thoughtful. Affairs were not going as he had expected,
and yet he was not disappointed. He had believed that he would have to
show great activity himself, slipping here and there, and putting in a
timely shot or two, but other factors had entered into the situation,
and, with his normal flexibility of mind, he resolved at once to put
them to the best use.
The wind was blowing from the pack toward him, and, if it shifted, he
meant to shift with it, but meanwhile he made himself as inconspicuous
as possible, finding a small depression in which he stretched his body,
thus being hidden from any eye except the keenest. Although the night
was far advanced, it retained its quality of silky or luminous
brightness, the whole world still swimming in the silver haze which the
full moon and the countless stars cast.
He wondered what had become of the scratched and angry panther. Endowed
with strength, but only with a fitful courage, it too must be lying
somewhere near in the forest, torn by wrath and perplexity. He was quite
sure that like the wolves it was encircled by the Indian ring, and would
not dare the attempt to break it. He was compelled to laugh once more to
himself. It was, in truth, a merry night.
But as the laugh died in his throat his whole body gave a nervous
quiver. A cry came from a point not ten yards distant, a long,
melancholy, quavering sound, not without a hint of ferocity, in fact the
complaining voice of an owl. The imitation of the owl was a favorite
signal with the forest runners, both white and red, but Henry knew at
once that this cry was real. Looking long and thoroughly, he saw at last
the feathered and huddled shape on the bough of an oak. It was a huge
owl, and the rays of the moon struck it at such an angle that they made
it look ghostly and unsubstantial. Had Henry been superstitious, had he
been steeped too much in Indian lore, he would have called it a phantom
owl. Nay, it looked, in very truth, like such a phantom, taking the
shape of an owl, and, despite all his mind and courage, a little shudder
ran through him.
Again the great owl cried his loneliness and sorrows to the night. It
was a tremendous note, mournful, uncanny and ferocious, and it seemed to
Henry that it must go miles through the clear air, until it came back in
a dying echo, more sinister than its full strength had been. The Indian
cast was bringing into the net more than Wyatt or any of the warriors
had anticipated, but the owl at least was hooting its defiance.
The singular combination of the night and circumstance affected Henry's
own spirit. He was touched less by the present and reality than by his
sense of another time and the primordial elements became strong within
him. In effect he was transported far back into those dim ages, when man
fought with the stone axe, and his five senses were so preternaturally
acute to protect his life that he had a sixth and perhaps a seventh. A
whiff came on the wind. It was faint, because it had traveled far, but
he knew it to be the odor of the panther. The big cowardly beast was
crouched in a little valley to his right, and he was trembling,
trembling at the approaching warriors, trembling at the great youth who
lay in the depression, trembling at the unknown and monstrous creature
that had plunged its iron claws into him in the dark, and trembling at
the cry of the owl which it had heard so often before, but which struck
now with a new terror upon its small and frightened brain.
Henry's own feeling of the supernatural passed. It was merely the old,
old world in which he must fight for his life and turn aside the bands
from his comrades and himself. Although the warriors had not called
again to one another he divined that they were closing in, and he
thought rapidly and with all the intensity and clearness demanded by the
situation.
The owl hooted once more, the tremendous note swelling far over the
wilderness, and then returning in its melancholy whine. Instantly
setting his lips and swelling all the muscles of his mighty throat he
gave back the cry, long, full and a match in its loneliness and ferocity
for the owl's own call. Then he crouched so close that he seemed fairly
to press himself into the earth.
He saw the owl on the bough move a little and he knew that it was in a
state of stupid amazement. Like the panther its brain was adapted only
to its own affairs and environment, else it would have made some
progress in all the ages, and the cry of an owl coming from the ground
when owls usually cried from trees was more than it could understand.
Nevertheless it soon gave forth its long complaining note once more, and
Henry promptly matched it. He was thinking not so much of its effect
upon the owl as upon the Indians. Delicate as their senses were, they
were not as delicate as his, and they might think the two notes were
those of challenge indicating that the whole five, reinforced perhaps by
a half dozen stalwart hunters, were within the ring, ready and eager to
give battle, setting in very truth a trap of their own.
He heard presently the cry of a wolf from a point at least a half mile
away, and it was answered from another segment of the circle at an
equal distance. The sounds, as he easily discerned, were made by
warriors, and it was absolutely certain now that the voices of the owls
had caused them to pause and think. Having thus started this train he
felt that he could wait and see what would happen, but he was stirred by
curiosity, and he pulled himself forward until the thicket ended, and
the earth fell away into the deep ravine that ran before the stony
hollow.
He kept himself hidden in the edge of the dense bushes, but he could see
in various directions. The great owl on the bough was quivering a
little, as if it were still amazed and terrified by the answer to its
own calls, coming from the heart of the earth itself and surcharged with
mystery. The moonlight turned it to a feathery mass of silver in which
the cruel beak and claws showed like sharp pieces of steel. Yet the bird
did not fly away, and Henry knew that it was held by fear as well as
curiosity, the dangers near seeming less than those far.
He looked then down into the ravine, and he was startled by the sight of
the wolf pack at full attention. The wolves of the Mississippi Valley
were not as large as the great timber wolf of the mountains, but when
driven by hunger they showed like their brethren elsewhere extreme
ferocity, and were known to devour human beings. Now the wolves like the
owl were magnified in the luminous moonlight, and one at their head
seemed to be truly of gigantic size. He reminded Henry of the king wolf
that had pursued Shif'less Sol and himself, and he had a singular fancy
that he was the same great brute, reincarnated. He shivered at his own
thought, and then chided himself fiercely. The king wolf had been
killed, he was as dead as a stone, and he could not come back to earth
to plague him.
But the beast, like the bird, was truly monstrous. He stood upon a
slight mound at the bottom of the ravine, and his figure bathed in the
glow of the moon and the stars rose to twice its real height. Henry saw
the foam upon the red mouth, the white fangs and the savage eyes, in
which, his fancy still vivid, he read hunger, ferocity and terror too.
Around him but on the lower plane were gathered the full score of the
pack, gaunt and fierce. Suddenly, the leader raised his head and like a
dog bayed the moon. The score took up the cry and the long whine was
carried far on the light wind, to be followed by deep silence.
The voice of the wolf bore Henry even farther back than the voice of the
owl, and his preternaturally acute senses took on an edge which the
modern man never knows in his civilized state. He heard the fluff of the
owl's feathers as it moved and the panting of the wolves in the valley
below. Then he saw the leader walk from the low mound and take a slow
and deliberate course along the slope, with the others following in
single file like Indians. The king was leading them nearer to the rocky
hollow, and Henry suspected they were changing their position because
the ring of warriors was beginning to close in again. He heard a
flapping of wings, and a huge bald-headed eagle settled on a bough near
him, whence it looked with red eyes at the owl, while the owl, with eyes
equally red, looked back again.
The suspicious, not to say jealous, manner with which the two birds
regarded each other, when the forest was wide enough for both, and
countless millions more like them, amused Henry. Both were alarmed, and
it was easy enough for them to fly away, but they did not do so, drawn
in a kind of fascination toward the danger they feared. Meanwhile the
wolves were still coming up the slope, but the black bear in the snug
hollow never stirred.
The warriors signaled once more to one another and now they were much
nearer. Henry retreated a little farther into the thicket, and then his
plan came to him. The Indians were bound to approach him from the east
and he would meet them with a weapon they little expected. The forest
was still in dense green, but the wood was dry from summer heats, the
effect of the great rain having passed quickly, and the ground was
littered as usual with the dead boughs and trunks fallen through
arboreal ages.
He drew softly away toward the mouth of the hollow, and then passed
behind it, where, stooping in the thicket, he produced his flint and
steel, which he put upon the turf beside him. Then, he gathered together
a little pile of dry brushwood, and again took notice of the wind, which
was still blowing directly toward the east and down the ravine, the only
point from which the Indian attack could come. It had been repulsed
there once before, but then Henry's comrades were with him, and five
good rifles and the tremendous voice of Long Jim had prevailed. Now he
was alone, and he did not intend to rely upon bullets. The moonlight
held, clear and amazingly bright, and he distinctly saw the troubled
owl and the vexed eagle, apparently still staring at each other and
wondering what was the matter with the night and the place. The Indian
calls to one another sounded once more, their own natural voices now and
not the imitation of bird or animal, and their nearness indicated that
the circle was closing in fast.
Henry had built up his heap of tinder wood, somewhat behind the mouth of
the hollow, and, kneeling down, he used flint and steel with amazing
rapidity and power. The sparks leaped forth in a shower, the dry wood
ignited, and up came little flames which swiftly grew into bigger ones.
Then he fanned his bonfire with all his might, and the flames sprang
high in the air, roaring as they set a fresh blaze to every dry thing
they touched. In less than two minutes a forest fire was in full and
great progress, sweeping eastward and down the ravine directly into the
faces of Braxton Wyatt and his advancing warriors. A great sheet of fire
in varying reds, pinks and yellows, and sometimes with a blue tint, rose
above the tops of the trees, and, as it rushed forward, it sent forth
showers of ashes and sparks in myriads from its crimson throat.
Henry sprang up behind the fire and uttered terrific shouts, leaping and
dancing as that far dim ancestor of his must have leaped and danced
when he was glowing with a sudden and mighty triumph. The spirit of the
ages had descended upon him too and as he bounded back and forth in the
light of the flames he roared forth bitter taunts in a voice worthy of
Long Jim himself. He told the owl to be up and away, and, rising on
heavy wings and uttering a dismal hoot, it obeyed. Its big body was
outlined for a moment or two against the red, and then it flew away over
the forest. The eagle uttered a hoarse cry, drawn from its frightened
throat, and followed the owl.
Then came another shriek, singularly like that of a human being, and the
huge panther, driven from its covert by the intense heat, leaped madly
forth and raced down the ravine before the pillar of flame. That panther
was in a sorely troubled state even before the fire began, and now the
collapse of its small intellect was complete. It saw the advancing
Indian warriors, but, in its madness, was reckless of them. It advanced
with great bounds straight at the line, cannoned against Braxton Wyatt
himself, knocking him senseless into a thicket, and, magnified to twice
its usual size before the amazed eyes of the Indians, disappeared at
last in a yellowish streak down the ravine.
Terror tore at the hearts of the Indians themselves, brave warriors
though they were. The strange cries of the night, of such varying
character and coming from so many points, had depressed their spirits
and filled them with superstitious awe. There was more in this than the
human mind could account for and the sudden upspringing of the fire,
bringing on its front the monstrous panther, if, in truth, it was a
panther and not some huge and legendary beast, sent them to the verge of
panic.
Their white leader, who might have restored their courage, lay senseless
in the bush, and as the second in command, the big warrior, seized him
to drag him away from the fire, the wall of flame emitted something even
more terrifying than the magnificent figure of the mad panther. Out of
the red glare shot a huge gaunt figure with long white teeth and
slavering jaws, the king wolf, to the warriors the demon wolf. After him
came a full score or more of wolves, almost as large, and howling their
terror to the moon. Behind them was the gigantic figure of a phantom
black bear, rushing with all its might, and through the red wall itself
came the sound of threatening and awful cries.
The Shawnees could stand no more. Uttering yells of fright they fled,
and fortunate it was for Braxton Wyatt that the big warrior slung him
over his shoulder and carried him away in the crush.
Henry heard the cries of the warriors and he knew from their nature that
panic was in complete control of the band. All things had worked for
him. The bear in its fright, and as he had expected, had rushed from the
cave just in time to flee before the flames, and he knew very well that
his own shouts would be interpreted by the Indians as the menace of the
evil spirits.
He followed the flames about a mile down the ravine, and then returned
slowly toward the hollow. He knew that the fire would soon reach a
prairie somewhat farther on, where it would probably die out, but he
knew also that his triumph was achieved. Circumstances and the presence
of the animals and the birds had helped him greatly, but his own quick
wit and infinity of resource had put the capstone on success. He began
to feel now the effect of the immense exertions he had made with both
body and mind, and, before he reached the hollow, he turned aside into
the woods where the fire had not passed and sat down on a rock.
He saw two or three miles away the wall of flame still moving eastward,
but the distance even did not keep him from knowing that it had
diminished greatly in height and vigor. As he had surmised, it would die
presently at the prairie and the night would return to its wonted
silence, lighted now only by the moon and stars. He was weary, but he
had an immense feeling of satisfaction and he sat a while, looking at
the fire, which soon sank out of sight behind the horizon, although its
pathway, the broad swath that it had cut, still glowed with coals and
sparks.
He wondered just where his comrades were. He might have sent forth a
call for them, but he decided that it would be wiser not to do so at
present, since they could reunite easily in the morning, and he
remained, sitting in an easy position, still looking at the luminous
point under the horizon, where the last embers of the fire were fading.
A long time passed, and the stillness was so peaceful that he sank into
a doze, from which he was aroused by a flare of lightning in the west.
The beauty of the night had been too intense to last. The moon and stars
that he had admired so much were going away, and the silky blue robe,
shot with silver that was the sky, was dimmed by a long row of somber
clouds trailing up from the west. The wind that touched Henry's face was
damp and he knew rain would soon come.
He had no mind to have a wetting through and through after his great
strain and labors, and his thoughts turned at once to the rocky hollow.
The bear had rushed out of it madly and there must have been much heat
there for awhile, but it had probably cooled by this time, and would
afford him a good shelter.
He found to his great delight and relief that the interior was free from
smoke, and not damaged at all. Some articles they had left on the
shelves were not even charred, and the leaves that made their beds had
escaped ignition. He would not have asked for anything better, and,
after eating some venison from his knapsack and drinking from the cold
water of the rivulet, he lay down on the bed nearest the cleft, where he
could see the ravine and the forest beyond.
A storm was gathering, but secure in his shelter it soothed and lulled
his spirit. The lightning, now red and intense, flared from every
horizon, and the wilderness was filled with the deep roll of incessant
thunder. The wind ceased to blow, but he knew that soon it would spring
up again, and then the rain would come with it, although he would
remain dry and warm in the stony shelter that nature had provided. An
enormous sense of comfort, even luxury, pervaded him, both body and
mind. He was like his primordial ancestor who had escaped from the
dangers of the monstrous beasts and who now rested at ease in his cave.
The strain upon his nerves departed, and soon he felt fit and able to
meet any new danger, whenever it should come. But he was so sure that no
such danger would appear that he allowed himself to fall asleep, having
first covered his body with the blanket that he always carried at his
back, as the night, under the influence of the wind and rain, was
growing cold.
When he awoke the day had not yet come and it was very dark. The rain
was pouring heavily, but not a drop reached him where he lay on his easy
bed of leaves with the warm blanket drawn around his body. Without
rising he pulled himself forward a little and looked forth. The last
ember from the forest fire had been blotted out long since, and he heard
the wash of the water as it rushed down the slopes, and the sweep of the
torrent in the ravine. The contrast heightened the splendor of his own
situation, which was all that one who was wild for the time could ask.
He thought of his comrades and of what a home the hollow would be to
them too, but he was not troubled about them. Such forest runners as
Shif'less Sol and the others would be sure to find protection from the
storm.
He fell asleep again, and, when he awoke the second time, dawn had come
more than an hour, the rain had stopped and the heavens were burnished
silver. Foliage and grass were already drying fast under a warm western
wind, and Henry, making a breakfast off what was left of his venison,
prepared to go forth. But he was halted by a shambling, dark figure that
appeared on the slope leading down into the ravine. It was the black
bear, and apparently it had some idea of returning to the fine shelter
it had abandoned in such fright the night before. Henry was surprised
that it should have come back. It must have been beaten about much in
the storm, and, either its memory was short, or it had sunk its terrors
in the recollection of the finest den that ever a bear had entered in
the northern part of Kain-tuck-ee.
Henry had a friendly feeling for the bear, which he regarded as an
animal of a companionable disposition, and no enemy, unless driven in a
corner. Since he had to leave the hollow and his comrades would have to
go with him he preferred on the whole that the bear should have it, but
when he stood up in the entrance the animal caught sight of his tall
figure and scrambled away in the forest. His place was taken by the
figure of a huge cat which glared at Henry with yellowish-green eyes,
and then turned back among the trees, filled with rage that the
terrible, strange creature was yet there.
"It seems that I'm still an object of terror," thought Henry, with
amusement. "Now for the eagle and the owl."
A great bird came out of the blue, and sailed on slow wing over the
hollow and ravine. He knew instinctively that it was the bald eagle of
the night before, drawn back with a fascination it could not resist to
the place where it had been frightened so badly. But it did not alight.
Keeping at a good height, it circled about and about and then
disappeared again and for the last time to the eastward.
Henry's eyes searched the opposite slope of the ravine, and at last he
discovered a mournful figure perched on the high bough of an oak. Its
feathers were drooping, its head was bent down until it was almost
buried in the feathers below its neck, and its entire attitude showed
despondency. The owl, too, had come back, but only a part of the way,
and, blinded by the sun, it sat there on the bough, mourning and
mourning.
Henry laughed. He had laughed many times the night before and he could
not keep from laughing that morning. The owl was quite the saddest
spectacle the woods could afford, and he had no mind to disturb it.
"Stay there and grieve, my solemn friend," he said. "Truly, with the sun
on you, your eyes closed and your heart sunk you'll be silent, but
tonight you'll give forth your melancholy hoot, although I won't be here
to hear it."
He looked to his ammunition, and stepped forth into a new and refreshed
world, filled with cool drying airs and the appealing odor of leaf and
grass. He descended into the ravine, the water falling in beads from the
leaves as he brushed by, and followed for a little distance in the bare
trail left by the fire. A mile farther on and a pair of great red eyes
peering at him from a thicket saw in him a terrible beast that even the
master of the wolves should avoid.
The huge leader gave a yelp, and as Henry turned suddenly, he saw the
great wolf flitting away up the ravine, followed by the twenty gaunt
figures of his pack. He could have dropped the big wolf with a bullet,
but there was no need to do so, and he merely watched them until they
disappeared in the forest, concluding that his companions of the night
were as much afraid of him in the day as in the dark. All of them, save
one band, had come back in a frightened way, but he knew that the
Indians would not return. He was sure that they were still on their
terrified flight toward the Ohio, and he followed in the path of the
fire, until he came to the prairie where it had burned itself out.
It was only a little prairie, about two miles across, no other kind
having been found in Kentucky, and, on the far side, he picked up the
trail of the Indian band. He did not see any footsteps that turned out,
and he wondered at their absence. What had become of Braxton Wyatt? His
body had not been found in the path of the flames, and certainly he had
not perished. Henry, after some thought, came to the right conclusion,
namely, that he was being carried. But his hurt could not be any wound
received in battle, and probably he would recover soon, another correct
surmise, as a short distance farther on the trail of toes that turned
out appeared.
All the steps seemed to be long, and Henry judged hence that the band
was going fast, terror still stabbing at their hearts, long after the
night had passed. Braxton Wyatt would be the first to recover from it,
and Henry smiled at the thought of his rage when he should not be able
to persuade the Shawnees that evil spirits, sent by Manitou, had not
driven them from the valley. Their second defeat at the same place, and
this time by invisible forces, would persuade them they must never
return to the attack on the hollow.
Henry dropped the pursuit for the present, knowing that it was time to
reunite his own forces, and he sent forth the cry of the wolf that the
five, in common with the Indians, used so much. No reply and he repeated
it a second and yet a third time before the answer came. Then it was in
the south and it was very faint, but he had no doubt it was the voice of
Shif'less Sol. Call and reply went on for a little while, and then,
after a long wait, he saw the figures of the four appearing among the
trees, the shiftless one leading.
The greeting was not effusive, but joyful. Henry told them in rapid
words, tense and brief, all that had occurred the night before, and the
shoulders of the four shook with silent laughter.
"You certainly scared them good, Henry," said Paul.
"I was helped a lot by circumstances."
"But you used the chances when they came."
"Where did you four hide when the storm broke?"
"We took refuge under the matted trees and boughs of a huge old windrow.
It wasn't like the hollow, and some water came through, but on the
whole we did fairly well, and soon dried out thoroughly this morning. We
were mighty glad to hear your call, but we hardly hoped you would
achieve as much as you did."
"An' havin' routed the first band that came ag'inst us," said Long Jim,
"what do you 'low we ought to do next?"
"We've broken only a piece of the iron ring they're forging about us,
and they'll soon mend that piece. It's a good thing to hit first at
those you see are trying to hit at you, and so I think we ought to
follow up the success fortune has given us."
"An' it 'pears we kin do that best by keepin' right on the trail o'
Braxton Wyatt an' his band," said Shif'less Sol.
"That's the way I see it," said Henry. "How do you feel about it, Tom?"
"Right plan," replied Ross.
Shif'less Sol fixed upon him such a look of stern reproof that Silent
Tom reddened once more under his tan.
"Here you go gettin' volyble ag'in," said the shiftless one. "You used
two words then, Tom Ross, when, ef you'd thought an' hunted 'roun' a
leetle you might hev found one that would hev done ez well."
"And you Paul?" said Harry.
"I'm glad to follow where you lead."
"And you, Jim?"
"I'm uv Paul's mind."
"Then it's settled. Now, we'll have something to eat, and talk it
over."
They soon found a little valley in which a clear rivulet was flowing.
One was never more than a mile from running water in that country--and
Long Jim and Silent Tom produced food from their deerskin pouches.
"Here's some ven'son," said Jim. "It's cold an' it's tough, but I reckon
it'll do."
"I'm thinkin'," said Shif'less Sol, "that after a night like the one
Henry has had he'll be pow'ful hungry fur somethin' better than cold
ven'son."
"Mebbe so," rejoined Long Jim, "an' mebbe it's true uv all uv us, but
whar are we goin' to git it?"
"I'm an eddycated man, Jim Hart, eddycated in the ways o' the woods, an'
one o' the fust things you do when you're gittin' that sort o' an
eddication is to learn to use your eyes. I hev used mine, an' jest
before we set down here I noticed the fresh trail o' buffler runnin' off
to the right, 'bout a dozen, I'd say, an' jest ez shore ez I'm here
they're not more'n a mile away. I kin see 'em now, grazin' in a little
open, an' thar is a young cow among 'em, juicy an' tender. Now I don't
want to kill a young cow buffler, but we must hev supplies before we go
on this expedition."
"Sol is right," said Henry, "and since he is so it's his duty to go and
kill the buffalo. Tom, you'll go with him, won't you?"
"O' course," replied Silent Tom.
Shif'less Sol rose and looked to his rifle.
"I knowed I would hev to do all the work, besides supplyin' the
thinkin'," he said. "Here I tell what's to be done when the others
ain't able to think it out, an' then they tell me to go an' do it. It
ain't fair to a lazy man, one who furnishes the intelleck. The rest o'
you ought to work fur him."
"Go on you, Sol Hyde," said Long Jim Hart, rebukingly, "an' kill that
buffler. Don't you know that when you kill it I'll hev to cook it, an' I
ain't complainin'?"
"Quit braggin' on yourse'f, Jim Hart. You ain't complainin', 'cause you
ain't got sense 'nuff to complain. You're plum' sunk so deep in sloth
an' ig'rance that you're jest satisfied with anythin', no matter how bad
it is. It's men o' intelleck like me who complain and look fur better
things, who make the world go forward."
"Your idea uv goin' forward, Sol Hyde, is to do it ridin' on my
shoulders."
"O' course, Jim. Ain't that what you're made fur? You're a hind--ain't
that the beast, Paul, that carries burdens?--an' I'm the knight with the
shinin' lance that goes forth to slay dragons, an' I go ridin', too."
"You go ridin', too! I don't see no hoss! An' you ain't been astride no
hoss in years, Sol Hyde!"
"You deserve to be what you are, a hind, a toter o' burdens, Jim Hart,
'cause your mind is so slow an' dull. You ain't got no light, no
imagination, no bloom, a-tall, a-tall! Did I say I wuz ridin' a real
hoss? No, sir, not fur a second! But in the fancy, in the sperrit, so to
speak, I'm ridin' the finest hoss that ever pranced, an' I'm settin' in
a silver saddle, holdin' reins o' blue silk, an' that proud hoss o' mine
champs an' champs his jaws on a bit made o' solid gold. Come on, Tom, I
ain't 'preciated here. We'll kill that buffler, ef you don't talk me to
death on the way. Remember now to hold your volyble tongue. The last
time you spoke, ez I told you, you used two words when one would hev
done jest ez well. Don't let your gabblin' skeer the buffler plum' to
the other side o' the Ohio."
He stalked haughtily away, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, and
Silent Tom followed meekly. The admiring gaze of Jim Hart followed the
shiftless one as long as he was in sight.
"Ain't he the most beautiful talker you ever heard?" he asked. "Me an'
him hev our little spats, but it's a re'l pleasure to hear him fetch out
reasons an' prove that the thing that ain't is, an' the thing that is
ain't. That's what I call a mighty smart man. Ef the Injuns ever git him
he'll talk to 'em so hard that they'll either make him thar head chief,
or turn him loose to keep from bein' talked to death."
They heard the sound of a shot, and then a faint halloo from the
shiftless one, and when Henry went to the spot he found that he had
slain a young cow buffalo, just as he had predicted. Long Jim Hart
cooked the tender steaks in his finest style and they spent the rest of
the day preparing for the journey, which they believed would take them
across the Ohio, and which they knew would be full of dangers.
They put out their fire and rested until dusk came. Then they took up
again the trail of Wyatt's band and traveled until midnight, when they
slept until morning, all save the watch. Henry reckoned that they would
reach the river by the next night, and there was a chance that the
warriors might recover sufficiently from their fright to rally at the
stream. But he felt that in any event he and his comrades must strike.
Blackstaffe, Yellow Panther and Red Eagle with their forces would soon
be in pursuit, and to escape the net would test the skill and courage of
the five to the utmost. Yet all of them believed attack to be the best
plan, and, after their sleep, they resumed the trail with renewed
strength and vigor, pressing northward at great speed through the deep
green wilderness.
CHAPTER IV
THE CAPTURED CANOE
As the five advanced they read the trail with unfailing eye. Henry saw
more than once the traces of footsteps with the toes turned out, that is
those of Braxton Wyatt, and he noticed that they were wavering, not
leading in a straight line like those of the Indians.
"Braxton must have had a nice crack of some kind or other on the head,"
he said, "and he still feels the effects of it, as now and then he
reels."
"'Twould hev been a good thing," said Shif'less Sol, "ef the crack,
whatever it may hev been, hed been a lot harder, hard enough to finish
him. I ain't bloodthirsty, but it would help a lot if Braxton Wyatt wuz
laid away. Paul, you're eddicated, an' you hev done a heap o' thinkin',
enough, I guess, to last a feller like Long Jim fur a half dozen o'
lives, now what makes a man turn renegade an' fight with strangers an'
savages ag'inst his own people?"
"I think," replied Paul, "that it's disappointment, and fancied
grievances. Some people want to be first, and when they can't win the
place they're apt to say the world is against 'em, in a conspiracy, so
to speak, to defraud 'em of what they consider their rights. Then their
whole system gets poisoned through and through, and they're no longer
reasoning human beings. I look upon Braxton Wyatt as in a way a madman,
one poisoned permanently."
"I hev noticed them things, too," said Shif'less Sol. "Thar are diff'unt
kinds o' naturs, the good an' the bad, an' the bad can't bear for other
people to lead 'em. Then they jest natchelly hate an' hate. All through
the day they hate, an' ef they ain't got nothin' to do, even ef the
weather is fine 'nuff to make an old man laugh, they jest spend that
time hatin'. An' ef they happen to wake up at night, do they lay thar
an' think what a fine world it is an' what nice people thar are in it?
No, sir, they jest spend all the time between naps hatin', an' they fall
asleep ag'in, with a hate on thar lips an in' thar hearts."
"You're talkin' re'l po'try an' truth at the same time, Sol," said Long
Jim. "It's cur'ous how people hate them that kin do things better than
theirselves. Now, I've noticed when I'm cookin' buffler steaks an' deer
meat an' wild turkey an' nice, juicy fish, an' cookin' mebbe better than
anybody else in all Ameriky kin, how you, Shif'less Sol Hyde, turn plum'
green with envy an' begin makin' disrespeckful remarks 'bout me, Jim
Hart, who hez too lofty an' noble a natur ever to try to pull you down,
poor an' ornery scrub that you be."
Shif'less Sol drew himself up with haughty dignity.
"Jim Hart," he said, "I'm wrapped 'bout with the mantle o' my own merit
so well from head to foot that them invig'ous remarks o' yours bounce
right off me like hail off solid granite. To tell you the truth, Jim
Hart, I feel like a big stone mountain, three miles high, with you
throwin' harmless leetle pebbles at me."
"And yet," said Paul, "while you two are always pretending to quarrel,
each would be eager to risk death for the other if need be."
"It's only my sense o' duty, an' o' what you call proportion," said
Shif'less Sol. "Long Jim, ez you know, is six feet an' a half tall. Ef
the Injuns wuz to take him an' burn him at the stake he'd burn a heap
longer than the av'rage man. What a torch Jim would make! Knowin' that
an' always b'arin' it in mind, I'm jest boun' to save Jim from sech a
fate. It ain't Jim speshully that I'm thinkin' on, but I'd hate to know
that a man six an' a half feet long wuz burnin' 'long his whole len'th."
"Another band has joined Wyatt," said Henry. "See, here comes the
trail!"
The new force had arrived from the east, and it contained apparently
twenty warriors, raising Braxton Wyatt's little army to about sixty men.
"But they still run," said Shif'less Sol. "The new ones hev ketched all
the terror an' superstition that the old ones feel, an' the whole crowd
is off fur the Ohio. Look how the trail widens!"
"And Braxton Wyatt is beginning to feel better," said Henry. "His own
particular trail does not waver so much now. Ah, they've stopped here
for a council. Braxton probably stood on that old fallen log and
addressed them, because the traces of his footsteps lead directly to it.
Yes, the bark here is rubbed a little, where he stood. They gathered in
a half circle before him, as their footprints show very plainly, and
they listened to him respectfully. He, being white, was recovering from
the superstitious terror, but the Shawnees were still under its spell.
After hearing him they continued their flight. Here goes their trail,
all in a bunch, straight toward the north!"
"An' thar won't be no stop 'til they strike the Ohio," said Shif'less
Sol with conviction.
"I agree with you," said Henry.
"And so do all of us," said Paul.
"And of course we follow on," said Henry, "right to the water's edge!"
"We do," said the others all together.
"The Ohio isn't very far now," said Henry.
"Ten or fifteen miles, p'raps," said Shif'less Sol.
"And it's likely that we'll find a big force gathered there."
"Looks that way to me, Henry. Mebbe the band o' Blackstaffe will be
waitin' to join that o' Wyatt. Then, feelin' mighty strong, they'll come
back after us."
"'Less we fill 'em full o' fear whar they stan'. Mebbe they'll stop at
the river a day or two, an' then we kin git to work. Water which hides
will help us."
They passed on through the forest, noting that the trail was growing
wide and leisurely. At one point the Indians had stopped some time, and
had eaten heavily of game brought in by the hunters. The bones of
buffalo, deer and wild turkey were scattered all about.
"They're feeling better," said Henry. "I don't think now they'll cross
the Ohio, but we must do so and attack from the other side. They're not
looking for any enemy in the north, and we may be able to terrify 'em
again."
It was not long before they came to the great yellow stream of the Ohio,
and in an open space, not far from the shore, they saw the fires of the
Indian encampment.
"I think we'll have work to do here," said Henry, "and we'll keep well
into the deep woods until long after dark."
They did not light any fire, but lying close in the thicket, ate their
supper of cold food. Three or four hours after sunset Henry, telling the
others to await his return, crept near the Indian camp. As he had
surmised, two formidable forces had joined, and nearly two hundred
warriors sat around the fires. The new army, composed partly of Miamis
and partly of Shawnees, with a small sprinkling of Wyandots, was led by
Blackstaffe, who was now with Wyatt, the two talking together earnestly
and looking now and then toward the south.
Henry had no doubt that the five were the subject of their conversation.
Wyatt must have recovered by this time all his faculties and was
telling Blackstaffe that their enemies were only mortal and could be
taken, if the steel ring about them was recast promptly. Henry had no
doubt that an attempt to forge it anew would speedily be made by the
increased force, but his heart leaped at the thought that his comrades
and he would be able to break it again.
As he crept a little nearer he saw to his surprise a fire blazing on the
opposite shore, and he was able to discover the forms of warriors
between him and the blaze. With the Indians bestride the stream the task
of the five was complicated somewhat, but Henry was of the kind that
meet fresh obstacles with fresh energy.
He returned to his comrades and reported what he had seen, but all
agreed with him that they should cross the river, despite the encampment
on the far shore, and make the attack from the north.
"We'll do like that old Roman, Hannybul," said Long Jim, "hit the enemy
at his weakest part, an' jest when he ain't expectin' us."
"Hannibal was not a Roman, Jim," said Paul.
"Well, then, he was a Rooshian or a Prooshian."
"Nor was he either of those."
"Well, it don't make no diff'unce, nohow. He wuz a furriner, that's
shore, an' he's dead, both uv which things is ag'inst him. It looks
strange to me, Paul, that a furriner with the outlandish ways that
furriners always hev should hev been sech a good gen'ral."
"He was probably the best the world has produced, Jim. He was able with
small forces to defeat larger ones, and we must imitate his example."
"And to do that," said Henry, "we shall cross the Ohio tonight. I think
we'd better drop down a mile or two, beyond their fires and their
sentinels, and then make for the northern shore."
"The river must be 'bout a mile wide here," objected Shif'less Sol.
"That's a big swim with all our weepuns, an' ef some o' the warriors in
canoes should ketch us in the water then we'd be goners, shore."
"You're right, there, Sol," said Henry. "It would be foolish in us to
attempt to swim the river, when the warriors are looking for us, as they
probably are by now, since Blackstaffe and Wyatt have got them back to
realities."
"Then ef we don't swim how do you expect us to git across, Henry? Ez fur
me, I can't wade across a river a mile wide an' twenty feet deep."
"That's true, Sol. Even Long Jim isn't long enough for that. I'm
planning for us to cross in state, untouched by water and entirely
comfortable; in fact, in a large, strong canoe."
"Nice good plan, Henry, 'cept in one thing; we ain't got no canoe."
"I intend to borrow one from the Indians. You and I will slip along up
the bank and take it from under their noses. You're a marvel at such
deeds, Sol."
"It's 'cause he's stealin' somethin' from somebody," said Long Jim.
"Shut up, Jim," said Henry. "It's lawful to steal from an enemy to save
your own life, and these Indians mean to hunt us down if they have to
employ three thousand warriors and three months to do it. Suppose we go
now."
The five turned toward the south and west, making a deep curve away from
the camp, a precaution taken wisely, as they soon had evidence, hearing
shots here and there, which they were quite sure were those of red
hunters seeking game, wild turkeys on the bough, or deer drinking at the
small streams. They were compelled to go very slowly, in order to avoid
them, but the night, luckily, was dark enough to hide their trail from
all eyes, save those that might be looking especially for it.
They spoke only in whispers, but the young leader himself said scarcely
anything, his mind being occupied with deep and intense thought. He knew
that the venture in search of an Indian canoe would be accompanied by
most imminent risks, the vigilance and skill of Shif'less Sol and
himself would be tested to the last degree, but a canoe they must have,
and they would dare every peril to get it.
They had gone about a mile when Henry suddenly raised his hand, and the
five sank silently in the bush. A dozen warriors, treading without
noise, passed within twenty feet of them and their course led toward the
south. They flitted by so swiftly that it seemed almost as if shadows
had passed, but Henry, who saw their faces, knew that they were not mere
hunters. These men were on the warpath. Perhaps they had seen the trail
of the five somewhere, and were going south to close up the broken
segment of the circle there.
"They've probably had a hint from Blackstaffe," said Henry. "Next to
Simon Girty he's the shrewdest and most cunning of all the renegades. He
has reasoning power, and knowing that we'll take the bolder method, he's
probably concluded that we've followed Wyatt's band."
"An' so he hez sent that other band south to shut us in," said Shif'less
Sol.
"An' we might hev fled south ourselves from the fust," said Long Jim,
"but I cal'late we ain't that kind uv people."
"No," said Henry. "We can't lead 'em in this chase back on the
settlements. So long as they're trying to spread a net around us we'll
draw 'em in the other direction. Now, boys, fall in behind me, and the
first one that causes a blade of grass to rustle will have to make a
present of his rifle to the others."
Following the great curve which they were traveling it was a full five
miles to the point on the river they wished to reach. The forest, they
knew, was full of warriors, some hunting, perhaps, but many thrown out
on the great encircling movement intended to enclose the five. Now, the
trailers, with deadly peril all about them, gave a superb exhibition of
skill. There was no danger of any one losing his rifle, because no blade
of grass rustled, nor did any leaf give back the sound of a brushing
body. They were endowed peculiarly by birth and long habit to the life
they lived and the dangers they faced. Their hearts beat high, but not
with fear. Their muscles were steady, and eye and ear were attuned to
the utmost for any strange presence in the forest.
Henry led, Paul followed, Long Jim came next, then Silent Tom, and
Shif'less Sol defended the rear. This was usually their order, the
greatest trailer at the head of the line, and the next greatest at the
end of it. They invariably fell into place with the quickness and
precision of trained soldiers.
A panther, not as large and fierce as the one that Henry had driven in
fright down the ravine, saw them, looking upon human beings for the
first time. It was his first impulse to make off through the woods, but
they were soundless and in flight, and curiosity began to get the better
of fear. He followed swiftly, somewhat to one side, but where he could
see, and the silent line went so fast that the panther himself was
compelled to extend his muscles. He saw them come to a brook. The
foremost leaped it, the others in turn did the same, landing exactly in
his footsteps, and they went on without losing speed. Then the panther
turned back, satisfied that he could not solve the problem his curiosity
had raised.
Henry caught a yellow gleam through the leaves, and he knew that it was
the Ohio. In two or three minutes, they were at the low shore, although
the opposite bank was high. Both were wooded densely. The stream itself
was here a full mile in width, a vast mass of water flowing slowly in
silent majesty. They thought they saw far up the channel a faint
reflection of the Indian fires, but they were not sure. Where they stood
the river was as lone and desolate as it had been before man had come.
The moonlight was not good, and their view of the farther shore was dim,
leaving them only the certainty that it was lofty and thick with forest.
"Paul, you and Jim and Tom lie here, where this little spit of land runs
out into the water," said Henry. "There's good cover for you to wait in,
and Sol and I will come down the river in our new canoe, or we won't."
"At any rate come," said Paul.
"You can trust us," replied Henry, and he and the shiftless one started
at once along the edge of the river toward the northeast, where the
Indian camp lay. Henry reckoned that it was about three miles away, but
it would have to be approached with great care. As they advanced they
kept a watch on the farther shore also, and rounding a curve in the
river they caught their first sight of its reflection.
"It's fur up the stream," said Shif'less Sol, "an' I cal'late it's 'bout
opposite the big camp. Thar must be some warriors passin' back an' forth
from band to band, an' that, I reckon, will give us our chance fur a
canoe."
"Yes, if we can make off with it without being seen," said Henry. "A
pursuit would spoil everything. We'd have to abandon the canoe and
retreat back from the southern shore."
"'Spose we go a leetle further up," said Shif'less Sol. "The bank's low
here, but it's high enough to hide us, an' the bushes are mighty thick.
The nearer we come to the Indian camp the greater the danger is, but the
greater is our chance, too, to git a canoe."
"That's right, Sol. We'll try it."
They edged along yard by yard and soon could see through the intervening
trees and bushes the light of the great camp, from which came a
monotonous hum.
"A lot of 'em are dancin' the scalp dance," said the shiftless one.
"Will you 'scuse me, Henry, while I laugh a leetle to myself?"
"Of course, Sol, but why do you want to laugh?"
"'Cause they're dancin' the scalp dance when they ain't goin' to take no
scalps. It's ourn they're thinkin' of, but I kin tell you right now,
Henry, that a year from today they'll be growin' squa'rly on top o' our
heads, right whar they are this minute."
"I hope and believe you're right, Sol. Isn't that a canoe putting out
from the far shore?"
"Yes, a big one, with four warriors in it, an' they're comin' straight
across to the main camp, paddlin' like the strong men they are."
"Yes, I can see them clearly now, as they come nearer the middle of the
stream. That would be a good canoe for us, Sol. It looks big enough."
"But I'm afraid we ain't goin' to hev it, Henry. It's comin' straight on
to the main camp, an' it'll be tied to the bank right in the glow o'
thar fires. Hevin' wanted that canoe, ez we both do, we'd better quit
wantin' it an' want suthin' else."
[Illustration: "'A lot of 'em are dancin' the scalp dance'"]
Henry laughed softly.
"You're a true philosopher, Sol," he said.
"You hev to be in the woods, Henry. Here we learn to take what we can,
an' let alone what we can't. I guess the wilderness jerks all the
foolishness out o' a man, an' brings him plum' down to his level. Ain't
I right 'bout thar comin' straight to the main camp?"
"Yes, Sol, and they'll land in a few more minutes. Those are big
warriors, Miamis as their paint and dress show. Well, they're out of our
reckoning, so we'd better move a little farther up."
"We'll be shore to find canoes tied to the bank, an' thar will be our
chance. Ef our luck's good we'll git it, an' I find that luck is
gen'ally with the bold."
The situation into which they had entered was one of extreme danger, but
their surprising skill as trailers helped them greatly. The bank at this
point was about eight feet high, with rather a sharp slope, covered with
a dense growth of bushes, in which their figures were well hidden, but
they were so near now to the main camp that its luminous glow passed
over their heads, and lay in a broad band of light on the yellow surface
of the river. A canoe put out from the southern shore, and was paddled
by two warriors to the northern bank. Evidently there was constant
communication between the two forces.
From the bank above them came the steady drone of the scalp song, and
they heard the measured beat of the dance. Voices, too, came to them as
they advanced a little farther, and once Henry distinguished that of
Blackstaffe, although he was not able to understand the words. The light
from the great fire was steadily growing stronger on the river and it
would be a peril, disclosing their movements, if they took a canoe. From
the southern forest came the cries of wolves and owls which were the
signals of the Indians to one another, and Henry felt sure they were
talking of the five. He was thoroughly convinced now that their trail
had been discovered, and that the warriors, sure they were in the ring,
were seeking to draw in the steel girdle enclosing them. And unless the
canoe was secured quickly it was likely they would succeed. The two
paused, their minds in a state of painful indecision.
"What do you think, Henry?" whispered the shiftless one.
"Nothing that amounts to anything."
"When you don't know what to do the best thing to do is to do nothin'.
'Spose we jest wait a while. We're well kivered here, an' they'd never
think o' lookin' so close by fur us, anyway. Besides, hev you noticed,
Henry, that it's growin' a lot darker? 'Tain't goin' to rain, but the
moon an' all the stars are goin' away, fur a rest, I s'pose, so they kin
shine all the brighter tomorrow night."
"It's so, Sol, and a good heavy blanket of darkness will help us a
lot."
They lay perfectly still and waited with all the patience of those who
know they must be patient to live. A full hour passed, and the welcome
darkness increased, the heavens turning into a solid canopy, black and
vast. The light from the great campfire sank, and its luminous glow no
longer appeared on the river. The stream itself showed but faintly
yellow under the darkness. Henry's heart began to beat high. Nature, as
it so often did, was coming to their help. The droning song of the scalp
dance had ceased and with it the voices of the warriors talking. No
sound came from the river, save the soft swish of the flowing waters,
and now and then a gurgle and a splash, when some huge catfish raised
part of his body above the surface, and then let it fall back again.
Another canoe came presently from the northern shore. Henry and
Shif'less Sol, although they could not see it at first, knew it had
started, because their keen ears caught the plash of the paddles.
"It's a big one, Henry," whispered Shif'less Sol. "How many paddles do
you make out by the sound?"
"Six. Is that your count, too?"
"Yes. Now I kin see it. One, two, three, four, five, six. We wuz right
in the number an' it's a big fine canoe, jest the canoe we want, Henry,
an' it'll land 'bout twenty yards 'bove us. Somethin' tells me our
chance is comin'!"
"I hope the something telling you is telling you right. In any case
you're correct about their landing. It will be almost exactly twenty
yards away."
The great canoe emerged from the darkness, six powerful Miamis swinging
the paddles, and it came in a straight line for the bank, leaving a
trailing yellow wake. Henry admired their strength and dexterity. They
were splendid canoemen, and he never felt any hatred of the Indians. He
knew that they acted according to such guidance as they had, and it was
merely circumstances that placed him and his kind in opposition to them
and their kind.
The light but strong craft touched the bank gently, and the six canoemen
stepped out, a figure that appeared among the bushes confronting them.
Henry, with a thrill, recognized Blackstaffe, and the canoe must have
arrived on an errand of importance or the renegade would not have been
there to meet the six warriors.
"You will come into the camp and hear the reports of the scouts," said
Blackstaffe, speaking in Miami, which both Henry and the shiftless one
understood perfectly. "It will take some time to do this, because not
all of them have returned yet. Then two of you had better go back with
the canoe, while the others stay here to help us. I think we have these
five rovers trapped at last, and we'll make an end of 'em. They've
certainly caused us enough trouble, and I'm bound to say they're masters
of forest war."
One of the warriors tied the canoe to a bush with a willow withe, and
then all six following Blackstaffe disappeared among the trees, going
toward the campfire.
"At least Blackstaffe compliments us before sending us to the next
world," whispered Henry.
"Ez fur me," Shif'less Sol whispered back, "I ain't goin' to no next
world, jest to oblige a villyun renegade. Besides, I like this
wilderness o' ours too much to leave it fur anybody. They think they're
mighty smart an' that they're plannin' somethin' big right now, but all
the same they're givin' us our chance."
"What do you mean, Sol?"
"Didn't you hear the villyun say that two o' the warriors wuz to go back
with the boat?"
"Well, what of it?"
"Then two warriors is goin' to be me an' you, Henry."
"Of course. I ought to have thought of it, too."
"Thar must be sent'nels on the bank, but waitin' 'bout ten minutes we'll
git into the canoe an' paddle off. The sent'nels will know that two
warriors are to go back in it, an' they'll think we're them. This
darkness which has come up, heavy an' black, on purpose to help us, will
keep 'em from seein' that we ain't warriors. When we git into the middle
o' the river, whar thar eyes can't even make out the canoe, we'll go
down stream like a flash o' lightnin', pick up the boys and then be off
ag'in like another flash o' lightnin'."
"A good plan, Sol, and we'll try it. As you say, luck is always on the
side of the bold, and I don't see why we can't succeed."
But to wait the necessary fifteen minutes was one of the hardest tasks
they ever undertook. It would not do to take the canoe at once, as
suspicion would certainly be aroused. They must conform to Blackstaffe's
own plan. It seemed to them that they must actually hold themselves with
their own hands to keep from creeping forward to the canoe, yet they did
it, though the minutes doubled and redoubled in length, and then
tripled; but, after a time that both judged sufficient, they slid
forward, and Henry's knife cut the willow withe. Then they lifted
themselves gently into the canoe, took up two of the paddles and were
away.
Henry's back was to the southern bank, and despite all his experience
and courage shivers ran through his body at the thought that a bullet
from the forest might strike him any moment. Yet he did not wish to seem
in a hurry, and restrained his eagerness to paddle with all his might.
"Softly, Sol, softly," he said. "We must not be in too much haste."
"Don't I know it, Henry? Don't I know that we must 'pear to be the two
warriors whose business it is to take back the canoe? Ain't I jest
strainin' an' achin' to make the biggest sweep with my paddle I ever
swep', an' ain't my mind pullin' ag'inst my hands all the time, tryin'
to keep 'em at the proper gait? Are you shore you ain't felt no bullet
in your back yet, Henry?"
"No, Sol. What makes you ask such a question?"
"'Cause I reckon I wuz so much afeared o' one that I imagined the place
whar it's track would be in me, ef it had been really fired. My fancy
is pow'ful lively at sech a time."
"There has been no alarm, at least not yet, and we're near the middle of
the river. The canoe must be invisible, although I can see the fires on
either shore. Now, Sol, we'll turn down stream and paddle with all our
might, showing what canoemen we really are!"
It was with actual physical as well as mental joy that they turned the
prow of the canoe toward the southeast, that is, with the current, and
began to do their best with the paddles. They no longer had that
horrible fear of a bullet in the back, and muscles seemed to leap
together with the spirit into greater strength and elasticity.
"Come on you, Henry," said Shif'less Sol exultantly. "Keep up your side!
Prove that you're jest ez good a man with the paddle ez me! We ain't
makin' more'n a mile a minute, an' fur sech ez we are that's nothin' but
standin' still!"
The two bent their powerful backs a little and their great arms swept
the paddles through the water at an amazing rate. The soul of Shif'less
Sol surged up to the heights. He became dithyrambic and he spoke in a
tone not loud, but full of concentrated fire and feeling.
"Fine, you Henry, you!" he said. "But we kin do better! The canoe is
goin' fast, but one or two canoes in the hist'ry o' the world hez gone
ez fast! We must go faster by ten or fifteen miles an hour an' set the
record that will stan'! It's so dark in here I can't see either bank,
but I wish sometimes I could, warriors or no warriors! Then I could see
'em whizzin' by, jest streaks, with all the trees and bushes meltin'
into one another like a green ribbon! Now, that's the way to do it,
Henry! Our speed is jumpin'! I ain't shore whether the canoe is touchin'
the water or not! I think mebbe it's jest our paddles that dip in, an'
that the canoe is flyin' through the air! An' not a soun' from 'em yet!
They haven't discovered that the wrong warriors hev took thar boat, but
they will soon! Now we'll turn her in toward the southern bank, Henry,
'cause in the battin' o' an eye or two we'll be whar the rest o' the
boys are a-lyin' hid in the bushes! Now, slow an' slower! I kin see the
trees an' bushes separatin' tharselves, an' thar's the bank, an' now I
see the face o' Long Jim, 'bout seven feet above the groun'! He's an
onery, ugly cuss, never givin' me all the respeck that's due me, but
somehow I like him, an' he never looked better nor more welcome than he
does now, God bless the long-armed, long-legged, fightin', gen'rous,
kind-hearted cuss! An' thar's Paul, too, lookin' fur all the world like
a scholar, crammed full o' book l'arnin', 'stead o' the ring-tailed
forest runner, half hoss, half alligator, that he is, though he's got
the book l'arnin' an' is one o' the greatest scholars the world ever
seed! An' that's Tom Ross, with his mouth openin' ez ef he wuz 'bout to
speak a word, though he'll conclude, likely, that he oughtn't, an' all
three o' 'em are pow'ful glad to see us comin' in our triumphal Roman
gallus that we hev captured from the enemy."
"Galley, Sol, galley! Not gallus!"
"It's all the same, galley or gallus. We hev got it, an' we are in it,
an' it's a fine big canoe with six paddles, one for ev'ry one o' us an'
one to spare! Now here we are ag'in the bank, an' thar they are ready to
jump in!"
There was no time for hesitation, as a long and tremendous war whoop
from a point up the stream seemed to surcharge the whole night with rage
and ferocity. It was evident that the warriors had discovered that the
wrong men had taken the canoe, as they were bound to do soon, and the
chase would be on at once, conducted with all the power and tenacity of
those who devoted their lives to such deeds.
"They'll know, of course, that we've come down the stream, not daring to
go against the current," said Henry, "and they'll follow with every
canoe they have."
"An' more will run along either bank hopin' fur a shot," said the
shiftless one, "an' so while we turn our canoe into a shootin' star
ag'in we'll hev to remember to keep in the middle o' the stream. A lot
o' the dark that helped us to git the canoe is fadin' away, leavin' us
to make our race fur our lives mostly in the open."
The great war whoop came again, filling the forest with its fierce
echoes, and then followed silence, a silence which every one of the five
knew would be broken later by the plash of paddles. The valley Indians
had great canoes, sometimes carrying as many as twenty paddles, and when
twenty strong backs were bent into one of them it could come at greater
speed than any five in the world could command.
But this five, calm and ready to face any danger, put their rifles where
they could reach them in an instant, and then their canoe shot down the
stream.
CHAPTER V
THE PROTECTING RIVER
The Ohio was the great stream of the borderers. It was the artery that
led into the vast, rich new lands of the west, upon its waters many of
them came, and upon its current and along its banks were fought
thrilling battles between white men and red. Many a race for life was
made upon its bosom, but none was ever carried on with more courage and
energy than the one now occurring.
They kept well to the middle of the stream, which was still of great
width, a full mile across, where they would be safe from shots from
either shore, until the river narrowed, and although they sent the canoe
along very fast, they did not use their full strength, keeping a reserve
for the greater emergency which was sure to come.
Meanwhile they worked like a machine. The arms of five rose together and
five paddles made a single plash. In the returning moonlight the water
took on a silver color, and it fell away in masses of shimmering bubbles
from the paddle blades. Before them the river spread its vast width, at
once a channel of escape and of danger. The forest yet rose on either
bank, a solid mass of green, in which nothing stirred, and from which no
sound came.
The silence, save for the swish of the paddles, was brooding and full of
menace. Paul, so sensitive to circumstance, felt as if it were a sullen
sky, out of which would suddenly come a blazing flash of lightning. But
to Henry the greatest anxiety was the narrowing of the river which must
come before long. The Ohio was not a mile wide everywhere, and when that
straightening of the stream occurred they would be within rifle shot of
the warriors on one bank or the other. And while the Indians were not
good marksmen, it was true that where there were many bullets not all
missed.
A quarter of an hour passed, and they heard the war-whoop behind them,
and then a few moments later the faint, rhythmic swish of paddles. The
moonlight had been deepening fast, and Henry saw two of the great canoes
appear, although they were yet a full half mile away. But they came on
at a mighty pace, and it was evident that unless bullets stopped them
they would overtake the fugitives. Henry put aside his paddle, leaving
the work for the present to the others, and studied the long canoes. He
and his comrades might strain as they would, but in an hour the big
boats filled with muscular warriors would be alongside. They must devise
some other method to elude the pursuit. A shout from Paul caused him to
turn.
A peninsula from the south projected into the river, making its width at
this point much less than half a mile, and upon the spit, which was
bare, stood several Indian warriors, rifle in hand and waiting.
"Turn the canoe in toward the northern shore," said Henry. "We must
chance a shot from that quarter, dealing with the seen danger, and
letting the unseen go. Sol, you and Tom take your rifles, and I'll take
mine too. Paul, you and Jim do the paddling and we'll see whether those
warriors on the sand stop us, or are just taking a heavy risk
themselves."
The canoe sheered off violently toward the northern bank, but did not
cease to move swiftly, as Paul and Jim alone were able to send it along
at a great rate. Henry, with his rifle lying in the hollow of his arm,
watched a large warrior standing on the edge of the water.
"I'll take the big fellow with the waving scalp lock," he said.
"The short, broad one by the side o' him is mine," said Shif'less Sol.
"Which is yours, Tom?"
"One with red blanket looped over his shoulder," replied the taciturn
rover.
"Be sure of your aim," said Henry. "We're running a gauntlet, but it's
likely to be as much of a gauntlet for those warriors as it is for us."
Perhaps the Indians on the spit did not know that the canoe contained
the best marksmen in the West, as they crowded closer to the water's
edge, uttered a yell or two of triumph and raised their own weapons. The
three rifles in the canoe flashed together and the big warrior, the
short, broad one, and the one with the red blanket looped over his
shoulder, fell on the sand. One of them got up again and fled with his
unhurt comrades into the forest, but the others lay quite still, with
their feet in the water. As the marksmen reloaded rapidly, Henry cried
to the paddlers:
"Now, boys, back toward the middle of the river and put all your might
in it!"
Paul and Long Jim swung the canoe into the main current, which had
increased greatly in strength here, owing to the narrowing of the
stream, and their paddles flashed fast. Two of the Indians who had fled
into the woods reappeared and fired at them, but their bullets fell
wide, and Henry, who had now rammed in the second charge, wounded one of
them, whereupon they fled to cover as quickly as they did the first
time.
Shif'less Sol and Tom Ross had also reloaded, but put their rifles in
the bottom of the boat and resumed their paddles. The danger on the land
spit had been passed, but the great canoes behind them were hanging on
tenaciously and were gaining, not rapidly, but with certainty. Henry
swept them again with a measuring eye, and he saw no reason to change
his calculations.
"They'll come within rifle shot in just about an hour," he repeated.
"We'd pick off some of them with our bullets, but they'd keep on coming
anyhow, and that would be the end of us."
Such a solemn statement would have daunted any but those who had escaped
many great dangers. Imminent and deadly as was the peril, it did not
occur to any of the five that they would not evade it, the problem now
being one of method rather than result.
"What are we going to do, Henry?" asked Paul.
"I don't know yet," replied the leader, "but we'll keep going until
something develops."
"Thar's your development!" exclaimed the shiftless one, as a rifle was
fired from the northern shore, and a bullet plashed in the water just
ahead of them. Then came a second shot from the same source which struck
the inoffensive river behind them. They were now being attacked from
both banks while the great canoes followed tenaciously.
"We don't have to bother about one thing," said Paul grimly. "We know
which way to go, and it's the only way that's open to us."
But the threat offered by the northern shore did not seem to be so
menacing. The river began to widen again and rapidly, and the scattered
shots fired later on came from a great distance, falling short. Those
discharged from the southern bank also missed the mark as widely. Henry
no longer paid any attention to them, but was examining the forest and
the curves of the river with a minute scrutiny. His look, which had been
very grave, brightened suddenly, and a reassuring flash appeared in his
eye.
"What is it, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol, who had noticed the change.
"We've been along here before," replied the great youth. "I know the
shores now, and it's mighty lucky for us that we are just where we are."
The shiftless one looked at the northern, then at the southern forest,
and shook his head.
"I don't 'pear to recall it," he said. "The woods, at this distance
away, look like any other woods at night, black an' mighty nigh solid."
"It's not so much the forest, because, like you, I couldn't tell it from
any other, as it is the curve of the river. I thought I saw something
familiar in it a little while ago, and now I know by the sound that I'm
right."
"Sound! What sound?"
"Turn your ears down the river and listen as hard as you can. After a
while you'll hear a faint humming."
"So I do, Henry, but I wouldn't hev noticed it ef you hadn't told me
about it, an' even ef I do hear it I don't know what it means."
"It's made by the rush of a great volume of water, Sol. It's the Falls
of the Ohio, that not many white men have yet seen, a gradual sort of
fall, one that boats can go over without trouble most of the time, but
which, owing to the state of the river, are just now at their highest."
"An' you mean fur them falls to come in between us an' the big canoes?
You're reckonin' on water to save us?"
"That's what I have in mind, Sol. The falls are dangerous at this stage
of the river, no doubt about it, but we're not canoemen for nothing, and
with our lives at stake we'll not think twice before shooting 'em. What
say you, boys?"
"The falls fur me!" replied the shiftless one, quickly.
"Nothin' could keep me from takin' the tumble. I jest love them falls,"
said Long Jim.
"It's that or nothing," said Paul.
"On!" said Silent Tom.
"Then ease a little with your paddles," said Henry. "The Indians know,
of course, that the falls are just ahead, and I notice they are not now
pushing us so hard. It follows, then, that the falls are at a dangerous
height they don't often reach, and they expect to trap us."
"In which they will be mighty well fooled."
"I think so. I'll sit in the prow of the boat and do my best with my
paddle to guide. I believe we can shoot the falls all right, but maybe
we'll be swamped in the rapids below. But we're all good swimmers, and,
if we do go over, every fellow must swim for the northern bank, where
the Indians are fewest. Some one of us must manage to save his rifle and
ammunition or we'd be lost, even if we happened to reach the land.
Still, it's possible that we can keep afloat. It's a good canoe."
"A good canoe!" exclaimed the shiftless one, in whom the spirit of
achievement and of triumph was rising again. "It's the finest canoe on
all this great river, and didn't I tell you boys that them that's bold
always win! Jest when our last chance 'peared to be gone, these falls
wuz put squar'ly in our track to save us! Will they wreck us? No, they
won't! We'll shoot 'em like a bird on the wing!"
He looked back at their pursuers, and gave utterance suddenly to a long,
piercing shout of defiance. The Indians in the canoes replied with war
whoops that Henry could read easily. They expressed faith in speedy
triumph, and joy over the destruction of the five. He saw, moreover,
that they were using only half strength now, preferring to take their
ease while the game struggled vainly in the net. But as well as many of
these warriors knew the five they did not know them to the full.
The shiftless one waited until their last war whoop died, and then,
sending forth once more his long, thrilling note of defiance, he burst
again into his triumphal chant.
"Steady now with the paddles, boys," he cried, "an' we'll ride the water
ez ef we'd done nothin' else all our lives! Oh, I love rivers, big
rivers, speshully when they hev a strong current like this that takes
your boat 'long an' you don't hev to do no work! Now it reaches up a
thousand hands that grab our canoe an' sail 'long with it! Don't paddle
any more, boys, but jest hold yourselves ready to do it, when needed!
The river's doin' all the work, an' it never gits tired! Look, now, how
the current's a-rushin', an' a-dancin', an' a-hummin'! Look at the white
water 'roun' us! Look at the water behind us, an' hear the roarin'
before us! Thar, she rocks, but never min' that! Wait till the water
comes spillin' in! Then it will be time to use the paddles!"
He burst once more into that irrepressible yell of defiance, and then he
cried exultantly:
"They slow up! They're gittin' afeard! We've made the race too fast fur
'em! Come on, you warriors! Ain't you ready to go whar we will? These
falls are fine an' we jest love to play with 'em! We are goin' to sail
down 'em, an' then we're goin' to sail back up 'em ag'in! Don't you hear
all that roarin'? It's the tumblin' o' the water, an' it's singin' a
song to you, tellin' you to come!"
The shiftless one's own tremendous song had a thrilling effect upon his
comrades. Their spirits leaped with it. The rushing canoe was now
dancing upon the surface of the river, but somehow they were not afraid.
They were at that reach of the river where a great city was destined to
grow upon the southern shore, and which was to be the scene, a year or
two later, of other activities of theirs, but now both banks were in
solid, black forest, and no human habitation had yet appeared.
The canoe was rocking dangerously and all five began to use the paddles
now and then, as the white water foamed around them. It required the
utmost quickness of eye and hand to keep afloat, and the flying spray
soon wet them through and through. Yet the soul of Shif'less Sol was
still undaunted. He sang his song of victory, and although most of the
words were lost amid the crash and roar of the waters, their triumphant
note rose above every other sound, and found an echo in the hearts of
the others.
Henry, looking back, saw that the long canoes had turned and were making
for the southern shore. Great as was the prize they sought, they would
not dare the falls, and half the battle was won.
"They don't follow!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "And now for
the miracle that will keep us afloat!"
The canoe raced down the watery slope and the spray continued to drench
them, though they had taken the precaution to cover up their rifles and
ammunition. But their surpassing skill had its reward. The descent soon
became more gradual, the torrents of white water sank, and then they
slid forward in the rapids, still going at a great rate, but no longer
in danger.
"An' we've left the enemy behind!" sang the shiftless one, looking back
at the white masses. "He thought he had us, but he hadn't! He turned
back at the steep slope, but we came on! Thar's nothin' like havin' a
fall between you an' a lot o' pursuin' Injun canoes, is thar, Paul?"
Paul laughed, half in amusement and half in nervous relief.
"No, Sol, there isn't, at least not now," he replied. "It looks as if
these falls had been put here especially to save us."
"I like to think so, too," said the shiftless one.
The river was still very wide and they kept the canoe in its center,
although they no longer dreaded Indian shots, feeling quite sure that no
warriors were on either shore below the falls. So they went on three or
four miles, until Paul asked what was the next plan.
"We must talk it over, all of us," said Henry. "The canoe is of no
particular use to us except as a way of escape from immediate danger."
"But it and the falls together saved us," said Shif'less Sol. "Oh, it's
a good boat, a fine boat, a friendly boat!"
"I hate to desert a friend."
"It must be done. We can't stay forever on the river in a canoe. That
would merely invite destruction. The Indians can take their canoes out
of the water, carry them around the falls and resume the pursuit."
"O' course I know you're right, Henry. I wuz jest droppin' a tear or two
over the partin' with our faithful canoe. We make fur the north bank, I
s'pose."
"That seems to me to be the right course, because the warriors will be
thicker on the south side. We'll keep our policy of defense against them
by resuming the offense. What say you, Paul?"
"I choose the north bank."
"And you, Jim?"
"North, uv course."
"And you, Tom?"
"North."
"And Sol and I have already spoken. We'll make for the low point across
there, sink the canoe and go into the forest. The Indians will be sure
in time to pick up our trail and follow us, but we'll escape 'em as
we've escaped twice already."
"Red Eagle and Yellow Panther will come for us now," said Paul. "It's
their turn next."
"Let 'em," said Long Jim in sanguine tones. "They can't beat us."
They were now out of the rapids and were paddling swiftly toward the
northern shore, with their eyes on a small cove, where the bushes grew
thick to the water's edge. When they reached it they pushed the canoe
into the dense thicket and sank it.
"After all," said Shif'less Sol, "we're not partin' wholly with our
friend. We know whar he is, an' he'll wait here until some time or other
when we want him ag'in."
Gathering up their arms, ammunition and supplies, they traveled
northward through the dense forest until they came to a small and well
sheltered valley, where they concluded to rest, it being full time, as
collapse was coming fast after their great exertions and intense strain.
Nevertheless, Silent Tom was able to keep the first watch, while the
others threw themselves on the ground and went to sleep almost
instantly.
Tom had promised to awaken Shif'less Sol in two hours, but he did not do
so. He knew how much his comrades needed rest, and being willing to
sacrifice himself, he watched until dawn, which came bright, cold at
first, and then full of grateful warmth, a great sun hanging in a vast
disc of reddish gold over the eastern forest.
Silent Tom Ross, in his most talkative moments, was a man of few words,
at other times of none, but he felt deeply. A life spent wholly in the
woods into which he fitted so supremely had given him much of the Indian
feeling. He, too, peopled earth, air and water with spirits, and to him
the wild became incarnate. The great burning sun, at which he took
occasional glances, was almost the same as the God of the white man and
the Manitou of the red man. He had keenly appreciated their danger, both
when Henry was at the hollow, and when they were in the canoe on the
river, hemmed in on three sides. And yet they had come safely from both
nets. The skill of the five had been great, but more than human skill
had helped them to escape from such watchful and powerful enemies.
Tom Ross, as he looked at the faces of his comrades, knitted to him by
so many hardships and perils shared, was deeply grateful. He took one or
two more glances at the great burning sun, and the sky that looked like
illimitable depths of velvet blue, and then he surveyed the whole circle
of the forest curving around them. It was silent there, no sign of a foe
appeared, all seemed to be as peaceful as a great park in the Old World.
Tom said no words, not even to himself, but his prayer of thanks ran:
"O Lord, I offer my gratitude to Thee for the friends whom Thou hast
given me. As they have been faithful to me in every danger, so shall I
try to be faithful to them. Perhaps my mind moves more slowly than
theirs, but I strive always to make it move in the right way. They are
younger than I am, and I feel it my duty and my pleasure, too, to watch
over them, despite their strength of body, mind and spirit. I have not
the gift of words, nor do I pray for it, but help me in other things
that I may do my part and more."
Then Tom Ross felt uplifted. The dangers passed were passed, and those
to come could not press upon him yet. He was singularly light of heart,
and the wind sang among the leaves for him, though not in words, as it
sang often for Henry.
He took another look at his comrades, and they still slept as if they
would never awake. The strain of the preceding nights and days had been
tremendous, and their spirits, having gone away with old King Sleep to
his untroubled realms, showed no signs of a wish to come back again to a
land of unlimited peril. He had promised faithfully to awaken one of
them long ago for the second turn at the watch, and he knew that all of
them expected to be up at sunrise, but he had broken his promise and he
was happy in the breaking of it.
Nor did he awaken them now. Instead he made a wide circle through the
forest, using his good eyes and good ears to their utmost. The stillness
had gone, because birds were singing from pure joy at the dawn, and the
thickets rustled with the movements of small animals setting about the
day's work and play. But Silent Tom knew all these sounds, and he paid
no attention to them. Instead he listened for man, man the vengeful, the
dangerous and the deadly, and hearing nothing from him and being sure
that he was not near, he went back to the place where the four sleepers
lay. Examining them critically he saw that they had not stirred a
particle. They had been so absolutely still that they had grown into the
landscape itself.
Tom Ross smiled a deep smile that brought his mouth well across his face
and made his eyes crinkle up, and then, disregarding their wishes with
the utmost lightness of heart, he sat himself down, calmly letting them
sleep on. He produced from an inside pocket a long stretch of fine,
thin, but very strong cord, and ran it through his fingers until he came
to the sharp hook on the end. It was all in good trim, and his questing
eye soon saw where a long, slender pole could be cut. Then he put thread
and hook back in his pocket, and sat as silent as the sleepers, but
bright-eyed and watchful. No one could come near without his knowledge.
Shif'less Sol awoke first, yawning mightily, but he did not yet open his
eyes.
"Who's watchin'?" he called.
"Me," replied Ross.
"Is it day yet?"
"Look up an' see."
The shiftless one did look up, and when he beheld the great sun shining
almost directly over his head he exclaimed in surprise:
"Why, Tom, is it today or tomorrer?"
"It's today, though I guess it's well on to noon."
"Seein' the sun whar it is, an' feelin' now ez ef I had slep' so long, I
thought mebbe it might be tomorrer. An' it bein' so late an' me
sleepin', too, it looks ez ef the warriors ought to hev us."
"But they hevn't, Sol. All safe."
"No, Tom, they hevn't got us, an' now, hevin' learned from your long an'
volyble conversation that it ain't tomorrer an' that we are free, 'stead
o' bein' taken captive an' bein' burned at the stake by the Injuns, I'm
feelin' mighty fine."
"Sol, you talk real foolish at times. How could we be took by the Injuns
an' be burned alive at the stake, an' not know nothin' 'bout it?"
"Don't ask me, Tom. Thar are lots o' strange things that I don't pretend
to understan', an' me a smart man, too. Here, you, Jim Hart! Wake up!
Shake them long legs an' arms o' yours an' cook our breakfast!"
Silent Tom began to laugh, not audibly, but his lips moved in such a
manner that they betrayed risibility. The shiftless one looked at him
suspiciously.
"Tom Ross," he said, "what you laughin' at?"
"You told Long Jim to cook breakfast, didn't you?"
"I shorely did, an' I meant it, too."
"He ain't."
"Why ain't he?"
"Because he ain't."
"Ef he ain't, then why ain't he?"
"Because thar ain't any."
"Thar ain't any breakfast, you mean?"
"Jest what I say. He ain't goin' to cook breakfast, 'cause thar ain't
any to cook, an' thar ain't no more to say."
Henry and Paul, awakening at the sound of the voices, sat up and caught
the last words.
"Do you mean to tell us, Tom," exclaimed Paul, "that we have nothing to
eat?"
"Shorely," said Silent Tom triumphantly. "Look! See!"
All of them examined their packs quickly, but they had eaten the last
scrap of food the day before. Silent Tom's mouth again stretched across
his face with triumph and his eyes crinkled up.
"Right, ain't it?" he asked exultantly.
"Look here you, Tom Ross," exclaimed Shif'less Sol, indignantly, "you'd
rather be right an' starve to death than be wrong an' live!"
"Right, ain't I?"
"Yes, right, ain't you, 'bout the food, an' wrong in everythin' else. Ef
you say 'ain't' to me ag'in, Tom Ross, inside o' a week, I'll club you
so hard over the head with your own gun that you won't be able to speak
another word fur a year! The idee o' you laughin' an' me plum' dead with
hunger! Why, I could eat a hull big buffler by myself, an' ef he wuzn't
cooked I could eat him alive, an' on the hoof too, so I could!"
Tom Ross continued to laugh silently with his eyes and lips.
"What are we to do?" asked Paul in dismay. "If we were to find game we
wouldn't dare fire at it with the Indians perhaps so near."
"True," said Tom Ross.
"And if we can't fire at it we certainly can't catch it with our hands."
"True," said Tom Ross.
"And then are we to starve to death?"
"No," said Tom Ross.
Paul did not ask anything more, but his questioning look was on the
silent man.
"Fish," said Tom Ross, showing his line and hook.
"Where?" asked Shif'less Sol.
"Fine, clear creek, only hundred yards away."
"Do you know that it hez any fish in it?"
"Saw 'em little while ago. Fine big fellers, bass."
"Then be quick an' ketch a lot, 'cause the pangs o' starvation are
already on me."
Tom Ross cut the slim pole that he had already picked out and measured
with his eye, took squirming bait from the soft earth under a stone,
just as millions of boys in the Mississippi valley have done, and
started for the creek, Paul being delegated to accompany him, while
Henry, Long Jim and the shiftless one proceeded to build a fire in the
most secluded spot they could find. There was danger in a fire, but they
could shield the smoke, or at least most of it, and the risk must be
taken anyhow. They could not eat raw the fish which they did not doubt
for a moment Tom Ross would soon bring.
Meanwhile Paul and Tom reached the banks of the creek, which was all the
silent one had claimed for it, fifteen feet wide, two feet deep, clear
water, flowing over a pebbly bottom. Tom tied his string to the pole,
and threw in the hook and bait.
"You watch, I fish," he said.
Paul, his rifle in the crook of his arm, strolled a little bit down the
stream, examining the forest and listening attentively for any hostile
sound. Since it was his business to protect the fisherman while he
fished, he meant to protect him well, and no enemy could have come near
without being observed by him. And yet he had enough detachment from the
dangers of their situation to drink deep in the beauty of the
wilderness, which was here a tangle of green forest, shot with wild
flowers and cut by clear running waters.
But he did not go so far that he failed to hear a thump where Tom Ross
was sitting, and he knew that a fine fish had been landed. Presently a
second thump came to his ear, and, glancing through the bushes, he saw
Tom taking the fish off the hook, a look of intense satisfaction on his
face. Then the silent fisherman threw in the line again and leaned back
luxuriously against the trunk of a tree, while he waited for his third
bite. Paul smiled. He knew that Silent Tom was happy, happy because he
had prepared for and was achieving a necessary task.
Paul went on in a circuit about the fisherman, crossing the creek lower
down, where it was narrower, on a fallen log, and discovered no sign of
a foe, though he did come to a bed of wild flowers, the delicate pale
blue of which pleased him so much that he broke off two blossoms and
thrust them into his deerskin tunic. Then he came back to Silent Tom, to
find that he had caught four fine large fish, and, having thrown away
his pole, was winding up his line.
"'Nuff," said the silent one.
"I think so, too," said Paul, "and now we'll hurry back with 'em."
"Look like a flower garden, you!"
"If I do I'm glad of it."
"Like it myself."
"I know you do, Tom. I know that however you may appear, and that
however fierce and warlike you may be at times, your character rests
upon a solid bedrock of poetry."
Tom stared and then smiled, and by this time the two had returned with
their spoils to a little valley in which a little fire was burning, with
the blaze smothered already, but a fine bed of coals left. The fish were
cleaned with amazing quickness, and then Long Jim broiled them in a
manner fit for kings. The five ate hungrily, but with due regard for
manners.
"You're a good fisherman, Tom Ross," said Shif'less Sol, "but it ought
to be my job."
"Why?"
"'Cause it's the job o' a lazy man. I reckon that all fishermen,
leastways them that fish in creeks an' rivers, are lazy, nothin' to do
but set still an' doze till a fish comes along an' hooks hisself on to
your bait. Then you jest hev to heave him in an' put the hook back in
the water ag'in."
"There's enough of the fish left for another meal," said Henry, "and I
think we'd better put it in our packs and be off."
"You still favor a retreat into the north?" said Paul.
"Yes, and toward the northeast, too. We'll go in the direction of Piqua
and Chillicothe, their big towns. As we've concluded over and over
again, the offensive is the best defensive, and we'll push it to the
utmost. What's your opinion, Sol? Who do you think will be the next
leader to come against us?"
"Red Eagle an' the Shawnees. I'm thinkin' they're curvin' out now to
trap us, an' that Red Eagle is a mighty crafty fellow."
They trod out the coals, threw some dead leaves over them, and took a
course toward the northeast. It seemed pretty safe to assume that the
ring of warriors was thickest in the south, and that they might slip
through in the north. Time and distance were of little importance to
them, and they felt able to find their rations as they went in the
forest.
They had been traveling about an hour at the easy walk of the border,
when they heard a long cry behind them.
"They've found the dead coals o' our fire," said Shif'less Sol.
"Which means that they're not so far away," said Paul.
"But we've been comin' over rocky ground, an' the trail ain't picked up
so easy. An' we might make it a lot harder by wadin' a while up this
branch."
The brook fortunately led in the direction in which they wished to go.
They walked in it a full half mile, and as it had a sandy bottom their
footprints vanished almost at once. When they emerged at last they heard
the long cry again, now from a point toward the east, and then a distant
answer from a point in the west. Shif'less Sol laughed with intense
enjoyment.
"Guessin'! Jest guessin'!" he said. "They've found the dead coals an'
they know that we wuz thar once, but that now we ain't, an' it's not
whar we wuz but whar we ain't that's botherin' 'em."
"Still," said Paul, "the more distance we put between them and us the
better I, for one, will like it."
"You're right, Paul," said Shif'less Sol. "I guess we'd better shake our
feet to a lively tune."
They increased their walk to a trot, and fled through the great forest.
CHAPTER VI
THE OASIS
The five continued their flight all that day, seeing no enemies and
hearing no further signal from them. But Henry knew intuitively that the
warriors were still in pursuit. They would spread out in every
direction, and some one among them would, in time, pick up the trail.
After a while, they permitted their own gait to sink to an easy walk,
but they did not veer from their northeastern course. Henry, all the
time, was a keen observer of the country, and he noticed with pleasure
the change that was occurring.
They were coming to a low sunken land, cut by many streams, nearly all
sluggish and muddy. The season had been rainy, and there was an odor of
dampness over all things. Great thickets of reeds and cane began to
appear, and now and then they trod into deep banks of moss.
"Perhaps we'd better turn to the north and avoid it," said Paul. "This
marsh region seems to be extensive."
Henry shook his head.
"We won't avoid it," he said. "On the contrary it's just what we want.
I'm thinking that we're being watched over. You know the forest fire
came in time to save us, then the falls appeared just when we needed
'em, and now this huge marsh, extending miles and miles in every
direction, cuts across our path, not as an enemy, but as a friend."
"That is, we are to hide in it?"
"Where could we find a better refuge?"
"Then you lead the way, Henry," said Shif'less Sol. "Ef you sink in it
we'll pull you out, purvidin' you don't go in it over your neck."
Henry went ahead, his wary eye examining the ground which had already
grown alarmingly soft save for those trained for such marchings. But he
was able to pick out the firm places, though the earth would quickly
close over their footsteps, as they passed, and, now and then, they
walked on the upthrust roots of trees, their moccasins giving them a
securer hold.
It was precarious and dangerous work, but they went deeper and deeper
into the heart of the great swamp, through thickets of bushes, cane and
reeds, the soil continually growing softer and the vegetation ranker and
more gloomy. Often the canes and reeds were so dense that they had
difficulty in seeing their leader, as he slipped on ahead. Sometimes
snakes trailed a slimy length from their path, and, hardened foresters
though they were, they shuddered. Occasionally an incautious foot sank
to the knee and it was pulled out again with a choking sigh as the mud
closed where it had been. Mosquitoes and many other buzzing and
stinging insects assailed them, but they pressed on without hesitation.
They came to a great black pond on which marsh fowl were swimming, but
Henry led around its miry edges, and they pressed on into the deeper
depths of the vast swamp. He judged that they had now penetrated it a
full two miles, but he had no intention of stopping. The four behind him
knew without his telling for what he was looking. The swamp, partly a
product of an extremely rainy season, must have bits of solid ground
somewhere within its area, and, when they came to such a place, they
would stop. Yet it would be all the better if they did not reach it for
a long time, as the farther they were from the edge of the swamp the
safer they could rest.
No island of firm earth appeared, and the traveling grew more difficult.
Often they helped themselves along with vines that drooped from scrubby
trees, swinging their bodies over places that would not bear their
weight, but always, whether slow or fast, they made progress,
penetrating farther and farther into the huge blind maze.
The sun was low when they stopped for a long rest, hoping they would
reach refuge very soon.
"I don't think the warriors kin ever find us in here," said Long Jim,
"but what's troublin' me is whether we'll ever be able to git out
ag'in."
"Mebbe you wouldn't be so anxious to show yourse'f, Jim Hart, on solid
ground ef you could only see yourse'f ez I see you," said Shif'less Sol.
"You're a sight, plastered over with black mud, an' scratched with
briers an' bushes. Lookin' at you, an' sizin' you up, I reckon that
jest now you're 'bout the ugliest man in this hull round world."
"Ef I ain't, you are," said Long Jim, grinning. "Fact is, thar ain't a
beauty among us. I don't mind mud so much, but I don't like it when it's
black an' slimy. How fur do you reckon this flooded country goes,
Henry?"
"Twenty miles, maybe, Jim, but the farther the better for us. Here's an
old fallen log which I think will hold our weight. Suppose we stop here
and rest a little."
They were glad enough to do so. When they sat down they heard the
mournful sigh of a light wind through the black and marshy jungle, and
the splash now and then of a muskrat in the water. Their refuge seemed
dim and inexpressibly remote, as if it belonged to the wet and ferny
world of dim antiquity. But every one of the five felt that they were
safe, at least for the present, from pursuit.
"We might plough a trail a yard deep," said Shif'less Sol, "but the mud
would close over it ag'in in five minutes, an' Red Eagle with five
hundred o' the best trailers in the hull Shawnee nation couldn't foller
us."
"It's strange and grim," said Paul, "but, when you look at it a long
time there's a certain kind of forbidding beauty about it, and you're
bound to admit that it's a friendly swamp, since it's hiding us from
ruthless pursuers."
"Perhaps that's why you find the beauty in it," said Henry. "Come on,
though. The Shawnees are not likely to reach us here, but we must find
some snug place in which we can camp."
"After all," said Paul, "we're like travelers in a great desert looking
for an oasis."
"We ain't as hungry ez all that," said Long Jim.
"You won't get angry if I laugh, Jim, will you?" asked Paul.
"Don't mind me. Go ahead an' laugh all you want."
"An oasis is not something to eat, Jim. It's a green and watered place
in an ocean of sand."
"Seems to me that we waste time lookin' fur a place that's more watered
than all these we're crossin'. What I want is a dry place, a piece out
uv that ocean uv sand you're talkin' 'bout."
"The conditions are merely reversed. My illustration holds good."
"What did you say, Paul? Them wuz mighty big words."
"Never mind. You'll find out in due time. Just you pray for an oasis in
this swamp, because that is what we want, and we want it bad."
"All right, Paul, I'm prayin'. I ain't shore what I'm prayin' fur, but I
take your word fur it."
Henry rose and led on again, anxious of heart. They were well hidden, it
was true, in the great swamp, but they must find some place to lay their
heads. It was impossible to rest in the black ooze that surrounded them,
and if they did not reach firmer ground soon he did not know what they
would do. The sun was already low, and, in the east, the shadows were
gathering. Around them all things were clothed in gloom. Even that touch
of forbidding beauty, of which Paul had spoken was gone and the whole
swamp became dark and sinister.
Henry was compelled to walk with the utmost care, lest he become
engulfed, and finally all of them cut lengths of cane with which they
felt about in the mire before they advanced.
"Pray hard, Long Jim," said Paul. "Pray hard for that oasis, because the
night will soon be here, and if we don't find our oasis we'll have to
stand in our tracks until day, and that's a mighty hard thing to do."
"I wuz never wishin' an prayin' harder in my life."
"I think your prayer is answered," interrupted Henry, who was thrusting
here and there with his cane. "To the right the ground seems to be
growing more solid. The mire is not more than a foot deep. I think I'll
venture in that direction. What do you say, boys?"
"Might ez well try it," said Shif'less Sol. "It may be a last chance,
but sometimes a last chance wins."
Henry, feeling carefully with the long, stout cane, plunged into the
slough. He was more anxious than he was willing to say, but at the same
time he was hopeful. As the swamp was due, at least in large part, to
the great rains, it must have firm ground somewhere, and he had noticed
also in the thickening twilight that the bushes ahead seemed much larger
than usual. A dozen steps and the mire was not more than six inches
deep. Then with a subdued cry of triumph he seized the bushes, pulled
himself among them, and stood not more than moccasin deep in the mud.
"It's the best place we've come to yet," he said. "I can't see over the
thicket, but I'm hoping that we'll find beyond it some kind of a hill
and dry ground."
"I know we will," said Long Jim, confidently. "It's 'cause I wished an'
prayed so hard. It's a lucky thing, Paul, that you had me to do the
wishin' an' prayin', 'stead o' Shif'less Sol, 'cause then we'd hev
walked into black mire a thousan' feet deep. Ef the prayers uv the
sinners are answered a-tall, a-tall, they're answered wrong."
Shif'less Sol shook his head scornfully.
"Let's go on, Henry," he said, "afore Long Jim talks us plum' to death,
a thing I'd hate to hev happen to me, jest when we're 'bout to reach the
promised land."
Henry pushed his way through dense bushes and trailing vines, and he
noticed with intense joy that all the time the earth was growing firmer.
The others followed silently in his tracks. In five minutes he emerged
from the thicket, and then he could not repress an exclamation of
pleasure. They had come upon a low hill, an acre perhaps in extent, as
firm as any soil and well grown with thick low oaks. Where the shade was
not too deep the grass was rich, and the five, the others repeating
Henry's cry of joy, threw themselves upon it and luxuriated.
"It's fine," said Shif'less Sol, "to lay here an' to feel that the earth
under you ain't quiverin' like a heap o' jelly. I turn from one side to
the other an' then back ag'in, an' I don't sink into no mud, a-tall,
a-tall."
"An' this, Paul, is the o-sis that you wuz talkin' 'bout, an' that I
wished an' prayed into the right place fur us?" said Long Jim.
"Oasis, Jim, not o-sis," said Paul.
"Oasis or o-sis, it's jest ez good to me by either name, an' I think
I'll stick to o-sis, 'cause it's easier to say. But, Paul, did you ever
see a finer piece uv land? Did you ever see finer, richer soil? Did you
ever see more splendiferous grass or grander oaks?"
"I feel about it just as you do," laughed Paul.
Henry lay still a full ten minutes, resting after their tremendous
efforts in the swamp, then he rose, walked through their oasis and
discovered that at the far edge a fine large brook was running,
apparently and in some mysterious way, escaping at that point the
contamination of the mud, although he could see that farther on it lost
itself in the swamp. But its cool, sparkling waters were a heavenly
sight, and, walking back, he announced his discovery to the others.
"All of you know what you can do," he said.
"We do," said Paul.
"First thought in my mind," said Shif'less Sol.
"An' we'll do it," said Long Jim.
"Now!" said Silent Tom.
They took off their clothing, scraped from it as much mud as they could,
and took a long and luxurious bath in the brook. Then they came out on
the bank and let themselves dry, the night which had now fully come,
fortunately being warm. As they lay in the grass they felt a great
content, and Long Jim gave it utterance.
"An o-sis is a fine thing," he said. "I'm glad you invented 'em, Paul,
'cause I don't know what we'd a-done without this un."
Henry rose and began to dress. The others did likewise.
"I think we'd better eat the rest of Tom's fish and then go to sleep,"
he said. "Tomorrow morning we'll have to hold a grand council, and
consider the question of food, as I think we're very likely to stay in
here quite a while."
"Are you really looking for a long stay?" asked Paul.
"Yes, because the Indians will be beating up the woods for us so
thoroughly that it will be best for us not to move from our hiding
place. It's a fine swamp! A glorious swamp! And because it's so big and
black and miry it's all the better for us. The only problem before us is
to get food."
"And we always get it somehow or other."
They wrapped themselves in their blankets to keep off any chill that
might come later in the night, lay down under the boughs of the dwarf
oaks, and slept soundly until the next day, keeping no watch, because
they were sure they needed none. Tom Ross himself never opened his eyes
once until the sun rose. Then the problem of food, imminent and
pressing, as the last of the fish was gone, presented itself.
"I think that branch is big enough to hold fish," said Tom Ross,
bringing forth his hook and line again, "an' ef any are thar they'll be
purty tame, seein' that the water wuz never fished afore. Anyway I'll
soon see."
The others watched him anxiously, as he threw in his bait, and their
delight was immense, when a half hour's effort was rewarded with a half
dozen perch, of fair size and obviously succulent.
"At any rate, we won't starve," said Henry, "though it would be hard to
live on fish alone, and besides it's not healthy."
"But we'll get something else," said Paul.
"What else?"
"I don't know, but I notice when we keep on looking we're always sure to
find."
"You're right, Paul. It's a good thing to have faith, and I'll have it,
too. But we can eat fish for several meals yet, and then see what will
happen."
They devoted the morning to a thorough washing and cleaning of their
clothing, which they dried in the sun, and they also made a further
examination of the oasis. The swamp came up to its very edge on all
three sides except that of the brook, and a little distance beyond the
brook it was swamp again. It would have been hard to imagine a more
secluded and secure retreat, and Henry dismissed from his mind the
thought of immediate pursuit there by the Indians. Their present
problems were those of food and shelter.
"I think," he said, "that we ought to build a bark hut. There's a
natural site between the four big trees which will be the corners of
our house, and the ground is just covered with the kind of bark we
want."
In the warm sunshine and with a clear sky above them they seemed to have
no need of a house, but all of them knew how quickly the weather could
change in the great valley. It would be hard to stand a fierce storm on
the oasis, and one of the secrets of the great and continued success of
the five was to prepare for every emergency of which they could think.
Long practice had given them high skill, and four of them set to work
with their tomahawks to build a hut of bark and poles, working swiftly,
dextrously and mostly in silence, while Silent Tom went back to the
fishing. They toiled that day and at least half the night with poles and
bark, and by noon the next day they had finished a little cabin, which
they were sure would hold, with the aid of the great trees, against
anything. It had a floor of poles smoothed with dead leaves, one small
window and a low door, over which they purposed to hang blankets if a
blowing rain came.
Throughout their hard labors they had an abundance of fish, but nothing
else, and they not only began to long for other food, but health
demanded it as well.
"Ef Long Jim Hart offers fish to me, ag'in," said the shiftless one,
"I'll take it an' cram it down his own throat."
"And then how'll you live?" asked Paul.
"I think I'll take Long Jim hisself an' eat him, beginnin' at his head,
which is the softest part o' him."
"Now that the cabin is done," said Henry, "maybe we can devote some
attention to hunting."
"Huntin' in black mud that'll suck you down to your waist in a second?"
said Shif'less Sol.
"I think I might find a pathway on the other side of the stream, and
this swamp ought to hold a lot of game. Bears love swamps, and I might
run across a deer."
"Would the Indians hear you if you fired?" asked Paul.
"No, we're too far in for the sound of a rifle to reach 'em. Still, I
won't start today. I suppose we can stand the fish until tomorrow."
"We have to stand 'em," said Shif'less Sol, "an' that bein' the case I
think I'll look ag'in at our beautiful house which hasn't a nail or a
spike in it, but is jest held together by withes an' vines, but held
together well jest the same."
"Ain't it fine?" said Long Jim with genuine admiration. "It's jest 'bout
the finest house that ever stood on this o-sis."
"That, at least, is true," said Paul.
They did not sleep in the cabin that night, as they intended to use it
only in bad weather, but made good beds on the leaves outside. Shif'less
Sol was the first to awake, and it was scarcely dawn when he arose.
Happening to look toward the brook delight overspread his face like a
sunrise, and laughing softly to himself he took his own rifle and Long
Jim's. Then he crept forward without noise, and making sure of his aim,
fired both rifles so closely together that one would have thought it
was a double barreled weapon.
The four leaped to their feet, and, clearing the sleep from their eyes,
ran in the direction of the shots. But the shiftless one was already
walking proudly back toward them.
"What is it, Sol?" cried Paul.
"Only these," replied Shif'less Sol, and he held up a fat wild duck in
either hand. "They wuz swimmin' in the branch, waitin' to be cooked an'
et by five good fellers like us, an' seein' they wuz in earnest 'bout it
I hev obliged 'em. So here they are, an' you, Long Jim, you, you set to
work at once an' cook 'em, 'cause I'm mighty hungry fur nice fat duck,
not hevin' et anythin' but fish fur the last year or two."
"Jest watch me do it," said Long Jim. "Ain't I been waitin' fur a chance
uv this kind? While I'm cookin' 'em you fellers will stan' 'roun', an'
them sav'ry smells will make you so hungry you can't bear to wait, but
you'll hev to, 'cause I won't let you touch a duck till it's br'iled
jest right. Are thar any more whar these come from, Sol?"
"Not jest at this minute, Jim, but thar wuz, an' thar will be. A dozen
jest ez good ez these fat fellers flew away when I fired, an' whar some
hez been more will come."
"Curious we didn't think of the wild fowl," said Henry. "We noticed that
the swamp had big permanent ponds besides running water, and it was a
certainty that wild ducks and wild geese would come in search of their
kind of food, which is so plentiful in here."
"Maybe we can set up traps and snares and catch game," said Paul. "It
will save our ammunition, and besides there would be no danger that a
wandering Indian in the swamp might hear our shots and carry the news of
our location."
"Wise words, Paul," said Henry. "We must put our minds on the question
of traps."
"But not this minute," said Long Jim. "Bigger things are to the front.
Here, you lazy Sol, he'p me clean these ducks, an' Paul, you an' Tom
build me a fire quicker'n lightnin'. The sooner you do what I tell you
the sooner you'll git juicy duck to eat."
They worked rapidly, with such an incentive to effort, and soon the
savory odors of which Long Jim had boasted incited their hunger to an
extreme pitch. He did not keep them waiting long, and when they were
through nothing was left of the ducks but bones.
"It would be better to have bread, too," said Paul, as he sighed with
satisfaction, "but since we can't have it we must manage to get along
without it."
"Mustn't ask fur too much," said Silent Tom.
"Sol," said Henry, "after we rest an hour or so suppose you and I set
the snares for the ducks and geese. Likely no human being has ever been
in here before, and they won't be on guard against us. The rest of you
might do more work on the house. We ought to provide food and shelter as
well as we can before stormy weather comes."
While Henry and the shiftless one were busy down the stream, the other
three put more strength into the hut, lashing the poles and bark fast
with additional tenacious withes and feeling all the interest that
people have when they erect a fine new house.
"It's surely a tight little cabin," said Paul, standing off and
examining it with a critical eye. "I don't think a drop of rain could
get in even in the heaviest storm. There, did you hear that?"
"Yes, a rifle shot," said Long Jim. "It wuz Henry or Sol, but it don't
mean no enemy. They hev got some kind uv game that they didn't expect."
The shot was followed in a few moments by a shout of triumph, and Henry
and Sol emerged from the swamp carrying between them a small but very
fat black bear.
"Thar's rations fur some time to come," said Long Jim. "I guess he wuz
huntin' berries in the swamp when Sol or Henry picked him off, an' I'm
shore thar'll be more uv the same kind. It begins to look like a mighty
fine swamp to me."
It was the shiftless one who had shot the bear, and he was proud of his
triumph, as he had a right to be, having secured such a supply of good
food, because there was nothing better that the forest furnished than
fat young bear. It did not take experts, such as they, long to clean the
bear, and cut its flesh into strips for drying.
"I think our snares will hold something in the morning," said Henry,
"and that will be a big help, too. What was it you said about the swamp,
Jim?"
"I said it wuz gittin' to be a mighty fine swamp. First time I saw it I
thought it wuz an ugly place, ugliest I ever seed, but now it's growin'
plum' beautiful. Reckon it's the safest place now in all the wilderness.
Knowin' that, helps it a lot, an' its yieldin' up good food helps it
more. The sun is gildin' the trees, an' the bushes an' the mud an' the
water a heap, an' all them things don't hurt my eyes when they linger on
'em."
"Jim is turnin' into a poet," said the shiftless one, "but I reckon he
hez cause. I'm gittin' to feel 'bout the swamp jest ez he does. It's a
splendid place, jest full o' beauty!"
They slept under the trees again, putting the strips of bear meat in the
house to secure them from marauders of the air, and awoke the next
morning to find the swamp still improving. Powerful factors in the
improvement were two ducks and a fat wild goose caught in the snares,
and, with more fish from Silent Tom, they had a variety for breakfast.
"I jest love wild goose," said Shif'less Sol, "speshully when it's fat
an' tender, an' I'm thinkin' this swamp is a good place for wild geese.
When we come in here we didn't think what a fine home we wuz findin'.
Since the tribes an' the renegades have sworn to wipe us out, an' we're
hid here so snug an' so tight, I don't keer how long I stay."
"Nor me either," said Long Jim. "This o-sis makes me think sure uv that
island in the lake on which we stayed once, but it's safer here. Nothin'
but the longest kind uv chance would make the warriors find us."
"That's true," said Henry thoughtfully. "We might have searched the
whole continent, and we couldn't have discovered a better refuge, for
our purpose. I know we can lie hid here a long time and let them hunt
us."
Shif'less Sol began to laugh, not loud, but with great intensity, and
his laugh was continued long.
"What you laffin' at, you Sol Hyde?" asked Long Jim suspiciously.
"Not at you, Jim," replied the shiftless one. "I wuz thinkin' 'bout them
renegades, Wyatt and Blackstaffe. I would shorely like to see 'em now,
an' look into thar faces, an' behold 'em wonderin' an' wonderin' what
hez become o' us that they expected to ketch between thar fingers, an'
squash to death. They look on the earth, an' they don't see no trail o'
ourn. They look in the sky an' they don't see us flyin' 'roun' anywhar
thar. The warriors circle an' circle an' circle an' they don't put their
hands on us. That ring is tight an' fast, an' we can't break out o' it.
We ain't on the outside o' it, an' they can't find us on the inside o'
it. So, whar are we? They don't know but we do. We hev melted away like
witches. Them renegades is shorely hoppin', t'arin' mad, but the madder
they are the better we like it. 'Scuse me, Jim, while I laff ag'in, an'
it wouldn't hurt you, Jim, if you wuz to laff with me."
"I think I will," said Long Jim, and action followed word. Later in the
day Henry and Paul penetrated a short distance deeper into the swamp,
but did not find another oasis like theirs. The entire area seemed to be
occupied by mire and ponds and thickets of reeds and cane, mingled with
briars. They stirred up another black bear, but they did not get a
chance for a shot at him, and they also saw the footprints of a panther.
They returned to the oasis satisfied with their exploration. The
swampier the swamp and the greater its extent the safer they were.
That night as they slept under the trees they were awakened by the
rushing of many wings. When they sat up they found the sky dark above
them, although the moon was shining and all the stars were out. It was a
flight of wild pigeons and they had settled in countless thousands on
the trees of the oasis. The five with sticks knocked off as many as they
thought they could use, and stored them for the night in the hut. They
devoted the next day to picking and dressing their spoils, the living
birds having gone on, and on the following day, Henry, who had entered
the swamp on another trip of exploration, returned with the most welcome
news of all. He had discovered a salt spring only a short distance away,
and with labor they were able to boil out the salt which was invaluable
to them in curing their food supply.
"Now, if we had bread, we'd be entirely happy," said Paul.
"Shucks, Paul," said Shif'less Sol with asperity, "you're entirely happy
ez it is. Never ask too much an' then you won't git too little. This
splendid, magnificent swamp o' ourn furnishes everythin' any reasonin'
human bein' could want."
Henry shot another black bear, very small but quite fat and tender, and
he was quickly added to their store. More wild ducks and wild geese were
caught in the snares, and they had now been on the oasis more than a
week without the slightest sign from their foes. Danger seemed so far
away that it could never come near, and they enjoyed the interval of
peace and quiet, devoted to the homely business of mere living.
Then came a day when great mists and vapors rose from the swamp, and the
air grew heavy. Everything turned to a sullen, leaden color. Henry
glanced at their hut.
"We have built in time," he said. "All this heaviness and cloudiness
foretells a storm and I think we'll sleep under a roof tonight. What say
you, Sol?"
"I shorely will, Henry. Them that wants to lay on the ground, an' take a
wettin' kin take it, but, ez fur me, a floor, a roof an' four walls is
jest what I want."
"Everybody will agree with you on that," said Paul.
No one spoke again for a long time. Meanwhile the vapors and mists
thickened and the skies became almost as black as night. The whole
swamp, save the little island on which they sat, was lost in the dusk,
and a wind, heavy with damp, came moaning out of the vast wilderness.
Thunder rumbled on the horizon, then cracked directly overhead, and
flashes of lightning cut the blackness.
The five retreated to their hut, and, with a mighty rushing of wind and
a great sweep of rain, the storm burst over the oasis.
CHAPTER VII
INTO THE NORTH
When the wilderness was under the beat of wind or rain or hail or snow
Henry and Paul, if sheltered well, never failed to feel an increase of
comfort, even of luxury. The contrast between the storm without and the
dryness within gave an elemental feeling of relaxation and content that
nothing else could supply. It had been so at the rocky hollow, and it
was so here.
Their first anxiety had been for the little house. Being built of poles
and bark it quivered and trembled, as the wind smote it hard, but it
held fast and did not lose a timber. That apprehension passed, they
looked to see whether it would turn the rain, and noted with joy in
their workmanship and pleasure in their security that not a drop made
its way between the poles and bark.
These early fugitive fears gone, they settled down to ease and
observation of the storm, being able to leave the door open about a
foot, as the wind was driving against the back of the house. It was
almost as dark as night, with gusts that whistled and screamed, and the
rain seemed to come in great waves of water. Despite the dusk, they saw
leaves torn from the trees and whirled away in showers. Every phase and
change of the storm was watched by them with the keenest attention and
interest. Weather was a tremendous factor in the life of the borderer,
and he was compelled to guide most of his actions by it.
"How long do you think it will last, Sol?" asked Henry.
"I don't see no break in the clouds," replied the shiftless one. "This
wind will die after a while, but the rain will keep right on. I look for
it to last all today, an' all the night that's comin'."
"I think you're right, Sol, an' it's a mighty big rain, too. The whole
swamp except our island will be swimming in water."
"But it won't be no flood, that is, like the big flood," said Long Jim.
"But ef one did come I wouldn't mind it much ef we had an ark same ez
Noah. Ef you could only furgit all them poor people that got theirselves
drowned it would be mighty fine, sailin' 'roun' in an ark a mile or so
long, guessin' at the places whar the towns hev stood, an' lettin' down
a line now an' then to sound fur the tops uv the highest mountains in
the world."
"You wouldn't hev no time fur lettin' down lines fur mountain tops, Jim
Hart," said Shif'less Sol.
"An' why wouldn't I hev time fur lettin' down lines fur anythin' I
wanted, you lazy Solomon Hyde?"
"'Cause it would be your job to feed the animals, an' to do it right
you'd hev to git up early in the mornin' an' work purty nigh to midnight
all the forty days the flood lasted. Me an' Henry an' Paul an' Tom would
spen' most o' our time settin' on the edge o' the ark with our
umbrellers h'isted, lookin' at the scenery, while you wuz down in the
bowels o' the ark, heavin' in more meat to the lions an' tigers, which
wuz allus roarin' fur more."
"I wouldn't feed no animals, not ef every one uv 'em starved to death.
Besides, what would be the use uv it? 'Cause when the flood dried up the
woods would soon be full uv 'em ag'in."
"Jim Hart, hevn't you no sense a-tall, a-tall? Ef all the animals wuz
drowned, ev'ry last one o' 'em, how could the woods be full o' 'em
ag'in?"
"Don't ask me, Sol Hyde. Thar are lots uv things that are too deep fur
you an' me both. Now, how did the animals git into the woods in the fust
place?"
"I can't answer, o' course."
"Nor can I, but I reckon they'd git into the woods in the second place,
which is after the flood, we're s'posin', jest the same way they did in
the fust place, which wuz afore the flood, an' that, I reckon, settles
it. I don't feed no wild animals, nohow."
"What will the big storm and the deluge of rain mean to us, anyway?"
asked Paul.
"It will help us," replied Henry promptly. "I've been worried about all
those mists and vapors rising from the decayed or sodden vegetation.
There was malaria in them. Our systems have resisted it, because the
life we lead has made us so tough and hard, but maybe the poison would
have soaked in some time or other. Now the flood of clean rain will
freshen up the whole swamp. It will lay the mists and vapors and wash
everything till it's pure."
"An' it will flood the swamp so tremenjeously," said the shiftless one,
"that fur days thar will be no gittin' in or gittin' out. Anybody that
tries it will sink over his head afore he goes a hundred yards."
"Which makes us all the more secure," said Paul. "It certainly appears
as if the elements fight for us. For a week at least we're as safe here
as if we were surrounded by a stone wall, a thousand feet thick and a
mile high. And in that time I intend to enjoy myself. It will be the
first rest in two or three years for us to have, absolutely free from
care. Here we are with good shelter, plenty of food, nothing to do, and,
such being the happy case, I intend to take a big sleep."
He rolled himself in a blanket, stretched his body on a bed of leaves,
and soon was in slumber. The others also luxuriated in a mighty sleep,
after their great labors and anxiety, and the little hut that they had
builded with their own hands not only held fast against the wind, but
kept out the least drop of water. The rain, true to Shif'less Sol's
prediction, lasted all night, but the morning came, beautiful and clear,
with a pleasant, cool touch.
The swamp was turned into a vast lake, and they shot two deer that had
taken refuge from the flood on their oasis. Henry, despite the rising
waters, was able to reach the salt spring, and they cured the flesh of
the deer, adding to it a day or two later several wild turkeys that
alighted in their trees. They continued to prepare themselves for a long
stay, and they were not at all averse to it. Rest and freedom from
danger were a rare luxury that every one of the five enjoyed.
Henry's assumption that the great rain would freshen the swamp proved
true. All the mists and vapors were gone. There was no odor of decaying
wood or of slime. It seemed as if the place had been cleaned and
scrubbed until it was like a fine lake. Silent Tom caught bigger fish
than ever, and they agreed that they were better to the taste, although
they agreed also that it might be an effect of fancy. The island itself
was dry and sunny, but from their home they looked upon a wilderness of
bushes, cane and reeds, growing in what was now clear water. The effect
of the whole was beautiful. The swamp had become transformed.
"It will all settle back after a while," said Henry quietly.
But a second rain, though not so hard and long as the first, filled up
the basin again, and they foresaw a delay of at least two weeks before
it returned to its old condition. They accepted the increased time with
thankfulness, and remained in their camp, doing nothing but little
tasks, and gathering strength for the future.
"I should fancy that the warriors would hunt us here some time or
other," said Paul. "Shrewd and cunning as they are, and missing us as
they have, they'd think to penetrate it!"
"It seems so to me," said Henry. "Red Eagle is a great chief, and, after
he searches everywhere else for us and fails to find us, he'll try for a
way into this swamp, unlikely though it looks as a home."
"But lookin' at the water an' the canes, an' the reeds an' the bushes
I've figgered it out that he can't come fur two weeks," said Shif'less
Sol, "an' so I've made up my mind to enjoy myse'f. Think o' it! A hull
two weeks fur a lazy man to do nothin' in! An' I reckon I kin do nothin'
harder an' better than any other man that ever lived. Ef it wuzn't fur
gittin' stiff I wouldn't move hand or foot fur the next two weeks. I'd
jest lay on my back on the softest bed I could make, an' Long Jim Hart
would come an' feed me three times ev'ry day."
"I think," said Henry, "we'd better build a raft. It'll help us with
both the fishing and the hunting, and with plenty of willow withes we
ought to hold enough timbers together."
The raft was made in about a day. It was a crude structure, but as it
was intended to have a cruising radius of only a few hundred yards,
pushing its way through strong vegetation, to which the bold navigators
could cling, it sufficed, proving to be very useful in visiting the
snares and decoys they set for the wild ducks and wild geese. The swamp,
in truth, now fairly swarmed with feathered game, and, had they cared to
expend their ammunition, they could have killed enough for twenty men,
but they preferred to save powder and lead, and rely upon the traps, and
fish which were abundant.
The skies were very clear now and they watched them for threads of
Indian smoke which could be seen far, many miles in such a thin
atmosphere, but the bright heavens were never defiled by any such sign.
It was the opinion of Henry that the main Indian band, under Red Eagle,
had gone northward in the search, but it would be folly to leave the
swamp now, since other detachments had certainly been left to the
southward. The ring might be looser and much larger, but it was sure to
be still there, and it was not hard for such as they, trained in
patience and enjoying a rare peace, to wait. Thus the days passed
without event, and the five felt their muscles growing bigger and
stronger for the great tasks bound to come. But a curious feeling that
war and danger were half a world away grew upon them. They were in love
for a time with peace and all its ways. They were reluctant even to
shoot any of the larger wild animals that wandered through the swamp,
and they felt actual pain when they slew the wild ducks and wild geese
caught in their snares.
"I'm bein' gentled fast," said Shif'less Sol. "Ef this keeps on fur a
month or so I won't hev the heart to shoot at any Injun who may come
ag'inst me. I'll jest say: 'Here, Mr. Warrior, hop up an' take my skelp.
It's a good skelp, a fine head o' hair an' I wuz proud o' it. I would
like to hev kep' it, but seein' that you want it bad, snatch it off,
hang it in your wigwam, tell the neighbors that thar is the skelp o'
Solomon Hyde, an' I'll git along the best I kin without it.'"
"You may feel that way now, Sol," said Long Jim, "but you jest wait till
the Injun comes at you fur your skelp. Then you'll change your mind
quicker'n lightnin', an' you'll reach fur your gun, an' blow his head
off."
"Reckon you're right, Jim," said the shiftless one.
Silent Tom stared at them in amazement.
"What's the matter, Tom?" asked Paul. "Why do you look at them in that
manner?"
"Agreed!" replied Silent Tom.
"What?"
"Agreed!"
"Agreed? Oh, I understand what you mean! Sol and Jim hold the same
opinion about something."
"Yes. Fust time!"
"Don't you be worried, Tom Ross," said Shif'less Sol, "I'll see that it
never happens ag'in."
"Me, too," said Long Jim Hart. "You see, Tom, that wuz the only time in
his life that Sol wuz ever right when he wuz disputin' with me, an' me
bein' a truthful man had to agree with him."
Another week passed and the atmosphere of peace and content that clothed
the great marsh grew deeper. The waters subsided somewhat, but it was
still impossible to pass from the oasis to the firm land without, except
in a canoe, and that they did not have. Nor was it likely that the
Indians would produce a canoe merely to navigate a flooded marsh. While
sure that none would come, all nevertheless kept a good watch for a
possible invader.
The weather began to turn cooler and the first fading tints appeared on
the foliage. It was the time when one season passed into another,
usually accompanied by rains and winds, but they were more numerous than
usual this year. The strong little hut again and again proved its
usefulness, not only as a storehouse, but as a shelter, although it was
so crowded now with stores that scarcely room was left for the five to
sleep there. The skins of the two bears had been dressed and Henry and
Paul slept upon them, while much of their cured food hung from pegs
which they contrived to fix into the walls.
As the waters sank still farther, they noticed that the swamp was full
of life. What had seemed to be a waste was inhabited in reality by many
of the people of the wilderness. The five had approached it from the
west, and now Henry, who was able to go farther east than they had been
before, found a small beaver colony at a point on the brook, where there
was enough firm ground to support a little grove of fine trees.
The beavers had dammed the stream and were already building their houses
for the distant winter. Henry, hidden among the bushes, watched them
quite a while, interested in their work, and observing their methods of
construction. He could easily have shot two or three, and beaver tail
was good to eat, but he had no thought of molesting them, and, after he
had seen enough, drew off cautiously, lest he disturb them in their
pursuits.
He saw many muskrats and rabbits and also the footprints of wildcats. A
magnificent stag, standing knee deep in the water, looked at him with
startled eyes. He would have been a grand trophy, but Henry did not
fire, and, a moment or two later, the stag floundered away, leaving the
young leader very thoughtful. What had the big deer been doing in such
difficult territory? It would scarcely come of its own accord into so
deep a marsh, and Henry concluded that it must have fled there for
refuge from hunters, and the only hunters in that region were Indians.
Then they must still be not far away from the marsh!
It was such a serious matter and he was so preoccupied with it that a
huge black bear, springing up almost at his feet, passed unnoticed. The
bear lumbered away, splashing mud and water, stopping once to look back
fearfully at the strange creature that had disturbed it, but Henry went
on, caring nothing for bears or any other wild animals just then.
When he returned, however, he was bound to take notice of the vast
quantity of wild fowl in the swamp. Every pond or lagoon swarmed with
wild ducks and wild geese, and hawks and eagles swoope
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