CHAPTER VII.On Into the Wilderness.
Great as the shock of the sudden attack and his narrow escape was, Ree gave only a little yell of surprise and anger, and ran in the direction from which the shot had come, drawing his pistol as he went. He found no one. Though utterly regardless of the danger he might be in by thus exposing himself, he made a careful search.
“Land o’ livin’, boy, ye’ll be meat for the redskins before ye’ve crossed the frontier, if ye don’t be keerful!” cried the woodsman, quickly coming up, springing from tree to tree, and thus always keeping their protecting trunks between himself and the point from which the mysterious shot had been fired. “What is the varmint pepperin’ away at ye so, for?”
“I haven’t the least idea, for I don’t know who it is,” Ree answered.
But he was glad the woodsman’s frank manner left no room to suspect him of treachery, although there had been grounds for this suspicionin the circumstance of the shot having been fired just as his own rifle and that of his friend had been discharged.
John had remained on guard beside Jerry and the cart, watchful for any sign of their strange enemy, completely mystified by the attack. Presently he joined Ree and the hunter who were searching for the trail of the would-be assassin. Tracks were found at last (high up on the rocky hillside)—those of a white man, for he wore boots; but they were very faint and Ree declared he would waste no time in attempting to follow them.
“But I do believe, John,” he said, “that the shot which wounded North Wind was intended for me, and the fellow who shot, then, fired again to-day.”
“You are thinking of Big Pete; I know you are!” John answered. “But I am sure you are mistaken, Ree. Why it was miles and miles away that North Wind was shot, and there hasn’t been a day since then but what we could have both been killed, perhaps, by some one hidden along the road.”
The woodsman, when he had heard the story, coincided with John’s opinion and Ree said nothingmore, though he was not convinced that he was wrong.
The brisk talk of the stranger turned the boys’ thoughts to other subjects as the journey was resumed. He was by no means a disagreeable fellow. His real name was “Thomas Trout,” he said, but he was everywhere known as “Tom Fish.” He had tramped over all the hills and valleys for miles around and seemed to know the country thoroughly. He accepted the boys’ invitation to eat dinner with them, and gave a share of the pounded parched corn he carried in a pouch at his belt, in return for venison and coarse corn bread, John having baked the latter on a flat stone beside their camp-fire, the previous night.
When in the afternoon, Tom Fish left the boys he told them they would be likely to see him at Fort Pitt, and gave them many directions as to where they had better “put up” while at Pittsburgh, as he called the place, such being its new name at that time.
John declared he would not sleep a wink that night, but remain on guard until morning. “For we must be prudent,” he said, in a very sober tone, which from him sounded so funny that Ree laughed outright.
And yet John was probably as prudent a boy as Ree; for the latter was so almost entirely fearless that he rushed into danger in a way not prudent at all, and many severe lessons which he learned afterward did not make him cautious as he should have been.
The night passed without one disturbing incident and the rising sun found the boys on their way once more; before its setting they reached Pittsburg.
“Fort Pitt,” as they were accustomed to call the straggling hamlet, stood at the foot of the hills at the confluence of the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers. Because of its location it was an important place and even at the time of which this is written (1790) was a point much frequented by traders, trappers and hunters.
It was with a feeling of awe, that Ree and John drove into the town, and noticed its old fort, its brick and log buildings and general air of pioneer hospitality. People stared at them, and some called to them in the familiar way of the border; but everyone was good-natured and helpful and almost before the boys knew it their horse had been unhitched and fed and they themselves were eating supper in a long, low brick building which served as a sort of public house.
From the first it had been the young travelers’ intention to sell their horse and cart at Fort Pitt and secure passage for themselves and goods on some flat-boat going down the river. They spoke of the settlement which General Putnam and others had made at a place they called Marietta (still known by that name) as their destination, and gave a general idea of their plans to the men who talked with them as they gathered about the big fire-place in the evening. They found they would probably be able to secure transportation down the Ohio within a few days, in company with a party of emigrants who had been building boats for the trip, expecting to go to Kentucky.
When the young travelers started out next morning to find a purchaser for old Jerry, however, they discovered that at that time of year, the demand for such property was far from brisk. As they walked along the main street or road, they chanced upon Tom Fish, who hailed them in his rough, but happy way, and they told him just how they were situated.
“Don’t sell the nag, then; come right along with me. I’ll show you the way into a country full of Injuns and game enough to suit ye, inshort order; an’ ye won’t have to pay no passage down river. Why, there’s jes the spot ye’re lookin’ for west o’ here—rivers an’ little lakes, an’ fish an’ game—no end o’ game. Good place for tradin’ too; Injun towns every forty rods or so.”
The woodsman then went on to tell the boys that several years earlier, a fort, known as Fort Laurens, had been erected on the Tuscarawas river, in the woods beyond Pittsburg. He was planning to go in that direction, for a purpose he did not state, and would willingly act as guide. He cautioned the boys, however, that there was little sign of a broken road for them to travel upon and that Fort Laurens had long been abandoned because of the hostility of the savages. But the confidence of the young traders that they could make friends with the Indians, and Tom’s glowing accounts of the country of which he spoke, caused them to look with favor upon his proposition.
“We will think about this matter,” said Ree, “and let you know. You will be here a day or two?”
“Yaas, a day or two,” said Tom Fish. “But don’t let me influence ye; it’s mighty reesky business you kittens is bent on.”
“It seems to me like a good plan,” Ree reflected aloud, when he and John were alone. “If we went to General Putnam’s settlement we would still feel that we must go up the Muskingum river to reach the Indians and profitable trading, and would have to build a raft or buy a boat to carry our goods. Moreover, people here say that within a few years the country all about Pittsburg will be settled up and that land will become valuable.”
“Whatever you say suits me,” said John with a laugh; and then and there Ree gave him a talking to for being so ready to accept the judgment of another, instead of having thoughts and opinions of his own.
But one or two ridiculously low offers the boys received for their horse and cart, and the discovery that they could not find room on the boat down the Ohio except at a fancy price, resulted in their decision to join Tom Fish. They talked all day of the subject, but when they went to bed that night, they knew that not for many months to come would they sleep again within the borders of civilization.
A frosty November morning ushered in another day, and early as they were astir Ree andJohn found the little town wide awake. Tom Fish was sky-larking all about saying good-bye to friends, and just a little under the influence of whiskey. It seemed that everybody knew him; and people having found out from Tom what they had not already found out from others, about the venturesome lads from Connecticut, quite an assemblage gathered to wish the travelers good luck.
A repeated suggestion which had been made to the boys was that they should abandon their cart and take with them only such goods as they could carry by using old Jerry as a pack-horse. It was true that for a portion of the distance they proposed to travel, there was a rough road, but beyond Fort McIntosh, at the mouth of the Beaver river, they would have no road but the rough Indian trail. But Tom Fish said he “reckoned old Colonel Boquet’s road was still there,” and that they should take the cart; and they did so.
Tom had joined the boys as their clumsy vehicle creaked along a muddy street, a little more serious than usual, because of some news he had heard, he said, but boastful as ever.
“I was talkin’ to a big seven-footer in thetavern last night,” he said—“A feller that had a grudge ag‘in’ me once. He never liked me till I threw him over a house one day;—threw him clean over a house. It makes me larff!”
John laughed, too, at this, but he said: “Tom Fish, you weigh a good three stone (forty-two) more than I do, but I believe I could throw you in a wrestle. When we stop for dinner, I am going to put you on your back!”
A laugh long and loud came from the woodsman’s throat. “Why, what a playful kitten ye be!” he exclaimed. “Why, I could toss ye up in the air and ketch ye nigh a dozen times whilst ye were only thinkin’ of throwin’ me.”
“I’d like to see you try it,” cried John.
“Put aside your nonsense, you two, until noon, now do,” Ree laughingly urged, “and tell us, Tom, of that Colonel Boquet whose road we are to follow.”
“Waal, that’s quite a yarn,” said Tom Fish. “But le’ me see now; le’ me see. It was back when I was jes a young buck, ’long ’bout ’64, that this Colonel Boquet, who was a mighty decent citizen for a Frenchman, made up his mind to get a whack at the pesky Injuns which had been killin’ an’ scalpin’ an’ burnin’ an’ robbin’all along the border of Pennsylvania an’ Virginia an’ Lord knows where all.
“Waal, the state of Pennsylvania an’ the state of Virginia helped him with sojers an’ he mustered scouts enough so that in all he had nigh onto 2,000 men. He marched ’em straight into the woods, the whole caboodle on ’em, clearin’ a road as he went, an’ takin’ along a lot o’ sheep an’ cows, and provender for the sojers without end. He went straight along till he come to the Muskingum river, an’ there he camped out, makin’ a show with all his men an’ pack-horses an’ everything, that scared the Mingoes an’ the Delawares half to death for fear he’d stay right there an’ build a town amongst ’em.
“They was willin’ to do most anything to get rid of him, an’ there was only one thing that he would hear to. He give ’em jes’ ten days to trot into his camp every prisoner they had in all their towns far an’ near, an’ told ’em that if ary a one was held back, he’d march on every pesky village an’ knock ’em sky high an’ burn ’em down.
“Waal! them Injuns was so scared, they commenced gettin’ their prisoners together right off, and they trotted two hundred on ’em up tothe front door of Colonel Boquet’s tent inside them ten days. An’ there was doin’s for sartin then!—Pow wows among the sojers who found all sorts of relations that the Delawares or the Wyandots or the pesky Mingoes had carried off, an’ pow wows among the men, an’ the women an’ the children that was brought out o’ their captivity like the Children of Israel.
“Then Colonel Boquet marched ’em all back to Fort Pitt an’ he sent for me an’ told me what he’d done, an’ asked me what I thought on it. I was scoutin’ out of Fort Pitt then, and I jes’ shook his hand an’ says: ‘Colonel Boquet ye’re a reg’lar rip-snorter.’”
“Did you ever hear of the terrible Captain Archer, the outlaw of war times?” asked the fun-loving John, inventing the name to see what Tom would say; for he had his own opinion as to Colonel Boquet having asked Thomas Fish what he thought of that Indian expedition.
“Cap. Archer? Old Cap. Archer! Well I rayther guess I knew him, an’ if he ain’t forgot it, he carries a little lead pill out of my old steel bottle of Injun medicine, clean to this day. Yaas, many a scrimmage I had with old Cap. Archer.”
John was for carrying his questioning further, though he could hardly keep from laughing,but Ree shook his head, unwilling to make fun of one who was so kind to them.
The travelers made excellent progress that morning, finding a very fair road for that rough country, along the river. They met occasional settlers and hunters and whether he knew them or not, Tom Fish always stopped to talk and always asked whether everything was quiet along the border. Many shook their heads, and spoke gloomily of the outlook for peace with the Indians remaining long unbroken.
From a couple of friendly Indians they met, Ree secured a quarter of venison in exchange for a cheap trinket, and although he accompanied the performance with a great deal of bragging, Tom did show the boys that he was a past-master in the art of broiling venison steaks. The fine dinner they had as a result, set his tongue wagging more than ever, however, and John Jerome was more than anxious to take some of the vanity out of him.
They had camped upon a hillside sloping down to the river—the Ohio. The day had come on bright and warm as Indian summer could be, and John had thrown off his coat.
“Now, Mr. Fish,” he said with a laugh, “You see the river down there? I’ve been thinkingthere may be some one of the same name as yourself in that water, and I’ve a mind to send you to visit your relations.”
The merry laugh of the hunter rang shrill and clear.
“Be ye? Oh, be ye?” he cried, jumping to his feet. “If it wa‘n’t fer hurtin’ ye, I’d throw ye clean across to yon hillside!” and he pointed to a spot nearly a mile away, across the river.
“It’s a good thing for you there are so many leaves on the ground to break your fall,” John answered, rolling up his sleeves.
“Don’t wrestle so much with your mouths,” Ree admonished them.
“Why, I could handle both of ye; come on, the two of ye to onc’t!” the hunter cried.
But the next moment he found in John, alone, about as much of a task as he cared to undertake. For two minutes they heaved and tugged, John’s wiry frame seeming to be all around the woodsman, who was by no means clumsy, though he could not put him down. Then they broke apart and for a minute made feints at one another, each hoping to secure an advantage.
At last the hunter’s arms shot out, his hands seized John’s arms so quickly, and he lifted theboy off his feet and keeled him over with such dexterity, that the lad lay sprawling on his back almost before he knew what was happening.
The glee of Tom Fish was quite ridiculous. He danced about and almost screamed with laughter.
“It is your turn, Ree,” said John good-naturedly.
“Whenever our friend is ready,” Ree responded.
“Come on! Come on!” Tom cried. “Oh, what frisky kittens ye be!”
Peter Piper, the half-breed, had taught Return Kingdom a trick or two at wrestling. And now he allowed the hunter to lift him off the ground, then he let his muscles relax, his dead weight falling in his opponent’s arms. Suddenly getting his feet to the ground in this way, he sprang against the hunter’s muscular frame with such rapidity of thought and motion that he was able by a tremendous lightning-like effort to jerk one of the man’s legs from under him, sending him down, while he, himself, came uppermost.
“Ye’re pretty fair,” Tom Fish muttered; but it was plain to be seen that something he very little expected had happened to him.
CHAPTER VIII.Friends or Foes?
Tom Fish had a profound respect for Return Kingdom from the moment the latter threw him; but he was no less pleasant and agreeable than before, and he proved himself a valuable friend then and in days long afterward.
When night came, as the wind was blowing cold, Tom very deftly built a shelter of branches and small saplings. His way of bending two little trees down and fastening them together with their own branches, making of them the support of the “shack,” was a method Ree and John had never seen used and was the secret of his being able to “build a house” in very little time.
It was very comfortable sitting before the fire, thus sheltered from the wind. Tom especially enjoyed it for his tongue ran on at a tremendous rate as he told stories of extraordinary adventures.
John urged him to tell more and more, and he might have gone on talking all night had notRee admonished him and John that they must turn in promptly in order to make an early start in the morning. Wolves were howling not far away, and the plaintive but terrorizing cry of a panther could be heard in the distance, as the little party lay down to sleep. No doubt the young emigrants thought many times before dreams came to them, of what the depths of the wilderness must be, if the foreboding sounds which reached them were a fair example of what the outer edge of the forest fastnesses afforded; but they rested well and were early astir.
Crossing a fine, level country, though thickly grown with great trees, on this day, the boys saw plainly the evidences of the road made by the Boquet expedition. There were the stumps of big and little trees and the half-decayed remnants of the trees which had been cut down, on both sides of them. Although so many years had passed since Col. Boquet had made this trail, the work his men had done made the progress of the Connecticut boys and their hunter companion faster than it would otherwise have been, and three days passed rapidly without other adventure than the meeting of a small party of Indians who scowled and passed on, and the killing of a large pantherby Ree, the animal having terribly frightened old Jerry by dropping from a tree squarely upon the faithful horse’s back, one night.
On the fifth day after leaving Pittsburg the travelers crossed a high ridge and obtained a glorious view of the country toward which they were pressing on. In the distance rivers of water and great oceans of tree tops, deep valleys and wooded hillsides were seen.
“Ye ain’t fer from the ‘Promised Land,’” said Tom Fish, lightly, much less moved by the grandeur of nature’s display than were the boys. Then he indicated the location of a point, far beyond and out of view, at which the old trail they were following, turned to the southwest and an Indian trail turned toward the northwest, leading on to the “Sandusky Plains” near Lake Erie.
It was apparent that Tom had settled in his own mind the locality in which the boys should erect their cabin and make their home. He had their interest at heart, the lads did not doubt, but they were unwilling to accept his judgment absolutely. It was arranged between them, therefore, that Ree should go ahead and spy out the lay of the land—and especially investigate the “lake country” of which Tom had so oftenspoken. If he should find it all that was represented, well and good; if not, they knew that along almost any of the rivers to the south and west of them, were fertile lands and Indian villages which would afford that which they sought—crops and trade.
And so on the morning of the fourth day after their having taken to the Indian trail toward the “Sandusky Plains,” the matter having been explained to Tom Fish, Ree left his friends behind. It was a perilous undertaking upon which he set out. They had now reached a wild and rugged country whose hills and valleys almost swarmed with game. Deer, bears and wolves were abundant. Panthers, wildcats and smaller game were frequently seen, and Indians were all about, though the party had thus far met but few.
But Return Kingdom had no fear—that was something he did not then know. He was only anxious to quickly find the right place for their residence and to make no mistake in selecting it. A light snow had already fallen, making it desirable that he and John should get themselves settled without delay. This was his thought as he hurried on alone.
Under a big beech tree Ree camped at night, building no fire lest it draw unwelcome guests toward him, but wrapping his blanket about himself and sitting, not lying, on the ground, his rifle between his knees. Any one passing, even very near, would have supposed his dark figure to be that of an old stump, and he spent the night with a feeling of safety, not entirely comfortable in his position, but little disturbed by the snapping of twigs and the rustle of leaves which told that forest prowlers were near.
Crossing a river at a shallow place next day, Ree mounted a hill and climbed a tall hickory whose upper branches rose above all other trees near it.
The weather had become warm and pleasant again and he would be able, he knew, to obtain a fine view. Just what he expected to see, he had not thought, but the grandeur of the scene he beheld was magnificent. Far as he could see the ocean of nearly leafless treetops rose and fell in giant waves, broken here and there by lakes or rivers, he knew not which, glimpses of whose waters and bushy banks, he caught. Here were lowlands—there highlands, and through the latter he traced for a long distance the course ofthe river he had crossed earlier in the day. Ree drew out a chart he had obtained at Pittsburg.
“It must be the Cuyahoga river—or Cayuga as some call it—and I am right in the heart of the lake country,” he whispered, as he steadied himself in the tree top. “We will build our cabin near the river.”
Without more delay the boy climbed down and strode forward in the direction of a valley which he had seen two or three miles to westward. In time he came to a sloping hillside and looking beyond he saw a splendid stream of swiftly flowing water. At the foot of the hill was a narrow tract of about four acres almost bare of trees, though deep grass spoke of the soil’s fertility. Rising above the river was a large knoll sloping down to the natural clearing.
With every sense delighted by the fine prospect, Ree ran down the hill, across the clearing and to the summit of the knoll or bluff. The ripple and splash of the river, the bright sunshine and his discovery of this ideal spot delighted him.
“The very place we are looking for!” he exclaimed aloud. “Here is grass for Jerry, afine clearing for the beginning of a farm—wood—water—game—everything!”
Anxious to join his friends and tell them of this good fortune, Ree dashed down the bluff and ascended the wooded hillside opposite. Panting, he reached the summit and suddenly,—stopped.
As though they had been waiting for him, there stood watching him a party of Indians. They were dressed entirely in savage costume. Not one wore any garment of civilization as did many of the savages farther east. With stolid composure the Redskins looked at the boy, though they must have wondered what the young Paleface was doing, alone in the forest’s depths.
Quickly recovering his presence of mind, Ree coolly stepped toward them, holding out his hand to one he supposed to be the chief, saying, “How, brothers?”
The Indian shook his hand but did not speak. The same second another Indian stepped up and seizing Ree’s hat, put it on his own bare head. Another grabbed the boy’s rifle, as though to take it from him.
Ree smiled, but he held firmly to his gun, and snatched his hat from the young brave who had seized it. One of the Indians now orderedthat Ree be let alone. But this was not the one the boy had taken to be the chief, and Kingdom quickly perceived that he had made a rather serious mistake. But he nodded his thanks to the Redskin and explained, using signs when words would not do, that he was a trader and that his friends and store of goods were not far away.
It caused Ree some alarm, however, when at a signal from the chief the Indians gathered about in such a way as to hem him completely in. And this alarm was decidedly increased as he noticed at the chief’s belt, a white man’s scalp. There could be no mistaking it.
The savages made no move to molest the boy further than to prevent his leaving them, but gave him to understand that they believed him to be a spy. Seeing this the boy offered to conduct them to his friends and merchandise. To this they agreed after some parleying and placing Ree between two big, swarthy fellows, they set off in single file, suspicious, it may be, that he would lead them into an ambush.
Ree gave little thought to this. He knew that if John and Tom had made good progress that he could reach them by nightfall and the suspicions of the Indians would be allayed.
It was wonderful how easily the savages followed Ree’s back trail, and they traveled at good speed. But hours passed and no sign of the wagon of which the lad had told them was found. The doubt of the Indians increased and they became ugly and impatient.
In vain Ree tried to explain that his friends must have been delayed, but he himself could not understand why no gleam of light, no smoke of their camp-fire, even, was visible as the day wore away, and soon he found that he was indeed a prisoner; for as the savages presently prepared to go into camp, their first act was to bind the white boy’s hands behind him and tie his feet with strong ropes of bark.
A full sense of his danger came to Ree’s thoughts, but he put on a bold front and emphatically objected to being tied, saying he had no thought of running away and that early the next day his statement that he was a trader would be found true.
The Indians gave no heed to his indignant words. They built a small fire by flashing sparks with flint and steel, and ate their supper consisting only of pounded parched corn and dried meat. This they shared with Ree, and thoughhe ate heartily he was thinking of other things. Every time he looked across the fire he could see the gruesome scalp at the belt of the chief of the party. Little wonder that he became apprehensive for his safety. It would not do, however, he thought, to let the Indians see that he was worried, and he began to whistle. The savages gazed at him in wonder. Suddenly one young buck arose, stepped over to the boy and struck him viciously on the cheek.
His temper instantly fired, Ree shot out his feet, bound together though they were, striking the savage full in the stomach and sending him headlong, partly into the fire.
As a tremendous howl of rage arose, Ree forgot that he was bound—forgot that his better plan would have been to keep cool. He sprang up, breaking the strings of bark which tied him, with seeming ease, and, as the enraged Indian rushed toward him, he dodged the club the savage brandished, and landing a tremendous blow on the redman’s neck with his fist, grabbed his rifle from the ground and sped away into the forest and the darkness.
With terrific yells the Indians took up the pursuit. On and on Ree dashed among thebushes and over brush and logs, springing wildly aside at times to save himself from dashing out his brains against a tree—hurrying fast and faster, he knew not whither, his pursuers crashing after him.
The pursued nearly always has the advantage over the pursuer. Ree found himself drawing slowly away from the Indians, who made so much noise themselves they could scarcely hear him, and suddenly halting, he crept softly away in another direction. Soon the savages went past, pell mell, certain that the boy was ahead of them, and the sounds of the chase died away.
Listening intently, to be ready for the slightest alarm, Ree turned to go back the way he came. It was difficult in the darkness to do this, but he believed that if he could return to the vicinity of the Indians’ camp-fire he could easily get his bearings and travel without loss of time in the direction of his friends. The darkness seemed less intense now that he had become accustomed to it, but he must exercise every care. To step on a dry stick or to stumble and fall might be fatal—might mean his capture and death.
Fortune favored the brave lad, for presentlythe dim light of the smoldering camp-fire came into view. He paused a moment, then turned confidently in the direction in which he thought John and Tom Fish must be. He had not taken forty steps, however, when a dark figure loomed up suddenly before him, and with exceeding quickness and quietness glided behind a tree.
It was well indeed for Return Kingdom that his quick eye saw this movement. Turning again, he ran, but instantly the dark figure darted in pursuit. Discovering that he was in danger of being driven into the very arms of the Indians he had so recently eluded, Ree changed his tactics. Certain that but a single savage was behind him, he wheeled and ran toward the Indian at full speed.
They were not far apart. Before the Redskin had made out what the boy was doing, the latter had hurled himself upon him and thrown him to the ground.
Fiercely the savage struggled; with tremendous energy Ree retained the upper hold, his grip secure on his opponent’s throat. Neither spoke. The Indian could not, and Ree had no wish to add to the noise made by their thrashing about among the leaves and dry twigs. He knewthat he could kill the savage warrior but he dreaded to do that. It would mean trouble with the Indians for a long time to come, upsetting his most cherished plans. And yet his own life was in danger, and—he dared not relax his hold.
Yet something must be done, and quickly, for soon the other Indians would be returning, and more than this he could not hold out long against the greater strength of his red antagonist. Ree resolved, therefore, to make the Indian understand that he did not wish to kill him, then let go and take his chances in a foot race.
But at this instant, the Redskin, by a mighty effort raised himself partially upon his feet, secured the release of his right arm, on which Ree’s knee had been, and clutched the boy’s throat with a vise-like grip. Never had the venturesome Connecticut lad been so near death as he was at that moment. Steadily the Indian continued to gain the upper hand, and as he tightened his grasp on Ree’s throat the boy’s tongue seemed to be forced from his mouth.
Then it was that Return Kingdom’s grim, unyielding determination which meant victory or death—a determination which, once formed,would have stopped for nothing though it swayed the earth, asserted itself. With the power of an unbending purpose, Ree raised to his feet, dragging the savage with him. He grasped the Indian’s body and with strength most extraordinary, lifted him from the ground, then suddenly he cast him violently down as though the brave were a great stone which he wished to break.
Astonished, bruised, exhausted, the Indian lay as he had fallen. The whole struggle had occupied but a minute or two, but it had been furious. Both the combatants were panting like dogs. Now was Ree’s opportunity. He stooped down, grasped the redman’s hand and shook it gently.
“We should be brothers. I would not try to kill you,” he spoke in a low, friendly way.
The Indian made no answer. Again Ree shook his hand, then picked up his rule and walked rapidly away. Looking back, he saw the savage rising to his feet and returning to the camp-fire. He was sure then that he had made a friend of an enemy. But he lost no time. There were but a few hours of darkness remaining to cover his escape while he searched for hisfriends, and with every sense alert he hastened on, though faint and weary from the violence of his exertions. He felt the necessity of finding and giving warning to John and Tom and the thought kept him going.
At last the morning came—slowly at first and then with a rush of light which set the crows a-cawing and wood-birds singing; and still the worn-out, lonesome boy looked in vain for his friends. But he wavered not for a moment, though ready to acknowledge himself completely lost, and thus, pressing on, he came soon after sunrise to the bank of a deep, wide ravine. He remembered having crossed it the day he left John and Tom, and soon he found a path leading down into the gully.
Assuring himself by careful scrutiny that the coast was clear, Ree pushed through the bushes and trotted down the bank’s steep side; and in another moment came squarely upon the cart and the camp of his friends. But where were John and Tom? Consternation filled the lad as he wholly failed to find them, and as he also discovered that the camp-fire was no fire at all—only a heap of dead ashes. Where was old Jerry, too?
A great fear came into Ree’s heart, which was increased a thousand fold, as in another moment he saw the faithful horse a few rods away—dead. There was a bullet hole in the gentle, patient animal’s head.
CHAPTER IX.The Scalp at Big Buffalo’s Belt.
A great lump came in Ree’s throat as he looked upon the body of honest old Jerry, and stood for a few seconds watching in a dazed, helpless way the big blue flies which buzzed about the lifeless animal in the morning sunlight. Then he saw for the first time that carion birds, buzzards, perhaps, had been feeding on the horse’s flesh.
The oppressive silence and desolation of the camp were as dead weights on the lad’s spirits, already burdened with most unhappy thoughts, and standing as still as the motionless trees about him, he could not summon back the resolution and courage which had kept him unfaltering throughout the night. The snapping of a twig recalled his scattered senses, however, and his sudden movement frightened a gaunt wolf which had crept up almost to the lifeless horse, and now went skulking away.
“I cannot understand—cannot think, I mustget my wits to working, some way!” the boy exclaimed in a half whisper, “what in the world can have happened?”
Again Ree’s mind gained the mastery over his fatigued body and his powerful determination seemed again to drive the weariness away. He stooped and stroked but once or twice the dead horse’s damp foretop, then hastened to the cart. Nothing in it had been disturbed. He looked carefully about the shelter of poles and brush which had been built, and found everything in comparatively good order. Surely things would not be in this state if his friends had been driven off or killed by Indians. It must be that they were attacked, had repulsed the enemy and had now gone in pursuit.
But why had they not returned? There was no doubt but that old Jerry had been dead at least a day, and John and Tom would, in that case, have been absent nearly as long.
With feverish anxiety Ree searched for a trail which would show the direction taken by the enemy or his friends, or both, but the sound of a stealthy footstep on the bank above caused him to spring to the shelter of a tree.
As he watched and listened, he heard voices,and quietly stepped into the open; for he would have known John’s tones among ten thousand. And at the same minute John and Tom Fish saw Ree gazing up at them, and both ran toward him, John crying excitedly: “Return Kingdom! Oh, but I am glad to see you!”
“Dutch rum an’ fire-water, it’s happy I am y’er back!” Tom Fish exclaimed.
“What has happened, John?” asked Ree in his usual quiet way, grasping his friend’s hand.
“What ain’t happened? It beats me as I ain’t ever been beat yet,” Tom Fish made answer.
“It was another of those mysterious shots, Ree—the very morning you left us,” said John, putting his hand affectionately on his chum’s arm.
“Another?” Ree spoke more to himself than to either John or Tom, and something made him think of Big Pete Ellis and the fellow’s threats.
“It was the same sort of a shot as before, but in broad daylight,” John answered. “We had just got the cart down into this gully and were preparing to get it up the other side, when we heard a rifle shot and—old Jerry fell dead. Isaw the smoke curling out from the bushes just half a minute later, and Tom and I both ran back up the hill. But there was no one near. We did find a trail but it was mingled with the tracks of the horse and cart, and the snow being gone, we could not follow it. For miles around the woods seemed as quiet as a Sunday at home. We looked all about but—”
“Only one thing is plain, some Mingo or somebody has a grudge ag’in ye, or else there’s been some consarned queer coincidences,” broke in Tom Fish. “It beats me!”
“I don’t see what we are to do, Ree! Tom and I decided just to wait here until you came back. But what have you been doing? Why, your hands and face are frightfully scratched, and you look all played out!”
“I guess I’ve had my hands full,” said Ree with a sad little smile. “But tell me where you two were. Why is there no fire?”
“Such a time as we have had!” was John’s sorrowful answer. “Poor old Jerry was scarcely dead before there were hawks or buzzards circling around above us, and when night came, wolves and other animals howled all around us, and so near we would have been afraid, had wenot had a big fire. Toward morning it became quieter and I was asleep, and Tom on watch, when a bear came poking around.”
“Biggest bear ye ever seen,” interrupted Thomas Fish.
“Well,” John went on, “we both set out after that bear, though it was pitch dark. We had a long chase for nothing, though, for we caught sight of the big fellow only once, and not long enough to get a shot at him. Coming back, it was light, and we stopped to explore the gully. But we did not expect to find you here, Ree. We would not have come back when we did, only to keep the buzzards away from the horse till we can burn the body. And I don’t see what we are to do. But you haven’t told a word about yourself.”
Ree was busily thinking, and for a little time made no answer. Then Tom and John spoke again, asking where he had been and what he had found.
“Why, I’ll tell you,” he answered them. “I came upon a first-class place for a cabin, on a bluff right at the bank of a splendid little river, and a little natural clearing around it. About five minutes later I came upon some DelawareIndians and as they wouldn’t believe me when I told them who I was, they made me a prisoner. I got away in the night, and here I am.”
John’s eyes opened wide, and excitedly he demanded to know all the particulars of Ree’s adventure. Tom Fish whistled a long, low note and almost closing his eyes, he looked toward Ree with a squint which was more expressive of his astonishment and interest than words could have been.
As the three of them sat on the thills of the now useless cart, Ree told them more fully of his experiences. Many were John’s outbursts of interest, and Tom whistled in his peculiar way more than once.
“Can’t more than kill us, and we may as well die that way as starve to death,” said the old hunter, as Ree spoke of the probability of the Indians soon finding their camp, and straightway he began preparations for breakfast. As they gathered about the savory meal which soon was ready, the conversation turned again to the mysterious attack which had ended the life of their horse.
John could not be persuaded that it was not some prowling Indian who had fired the shot,but Ree urged both him and Tom to be on their guard constantly and he would be the same, he said, for there was no knowing when another bullet might come whizzing toward them, nor when one of their own lives might not be thus snuffed out.
As breakfast was finished, John and Tom pleaded with Ree that he should lie down and get some rest, but he took a cold bath in the brook close by, instead, and would not listen to them further. All three were keeping their eyes open to detect the approach of Indians, for they did not doubt the savages would soon come, especially since the re-kindling of the fire had sent a stream of smoke steadily skyward, and now this signal of their whereabouts was made all the more plain by the building of a much larger fire upon and about the body of the unfortunate horse.
“Let them come,” was the confident declaration of Return Kingdom, as Tom Fish had suggested that the savages could not be far away. “We will meet them as friends,” he went on, “and I honestly believe that when they find that we are peaceable traders, there will be no trouble whatever.”
Tom whistled and squinted as Ree took this bold stand, but he had learned that the boy “had a long head,” and made no further remonstrance against the plan proposed.
About noon the savages arrived. John discovered a dark face peering out from some bushes on the bluff, and waved his hand in that direction in a friendly way. The searching eyes instantly disappeared. It required courage to follow the program Ree had mapped out, now when it was known that vengeful and cruel Delawares were lurking so near, themselves fully protected by the bank and brush, and trees; but when, a few minutes later Ree saw an Indian looking down at them, and the fellow put down his gun as a sign of friendliness, they knew they had acted wisely.
Notwithstanding the show of friendliness, however, Tom Fish said: “Keep your wits about ye, kittens, there ain’t no snake in the woods as treacherous as them varmints.”
Two savages were soon seen coming down the path, and Ree and John, laying down their guns, as the Indians had done, walked forward to meet them. Thus peace was secured for the time being, at least, and as the boys shook hands withthe Redskins, the latter gave them to understand that their chief was in waiting to be met and conducted to the camp.
Ree went to the cart and secured from their stock of merchandise a small hand-mirror in a round, pewter frame with a pewter lid over it, and with this for a present to the chief, he and John were guided to a spot not far away where the savage warrior and his braves were assembled. He was a tall muscular young fellow and would have been handsome had it not been for a look of malicious cunning and wickedness in his small dark eyes. But the gift of the mirror pleased his savage fancy greatly and he accepted it with a show of friendliness.
There were eleven Indians in the party. John could not repress a smile when he saw the singed hair and burned face of the young brave whom Ree had knocked into the fire, but even Kingdom failed to recognize the savage with whom he had battled for his very life alone in the darkness. By sign or otherwise neither of the boys made any reference to the adventure of the day and night before, but with perfect friendliness conducted the Indians to their camp.
Tom Fish’s spirits had grown lighter whenhe saw that a fight would be avoided and he greeted each Indian in his happy-go-lucky fashion.
“You’re a good un,” he said to the chief. “Got a little muscle, too, ain’t ye? Ain’t no religion in that eye o’ your’n, though!”
And so it went with the whole party. As he noticed the buck who was burned Tom laughed aloud. “Pretty near took the hide off, didn’t it, Smart Alec?” he exclaimed. “Doubled ye up like a two-bladed jack-knife, I should guess. Oh, these here boys are frisky! No foolin’ with them!”
John laughed at this, but no one took heed of him except Tom, who laughed boisterously, as he always did when anyone showed an appreciation of his crude jokes.
Almost immediately upon reaching the camp the Indians asked for “fire-water,” but Ree shook his head. It was true that in one of the several packages of goods there was a large stone bottle of whiskey which Capt. Bowen had provided for the boys together with other medicines, but not for a great deal would Kingdom have let the Indians know it; and he hoped that Tom would not find it out, either; for the truth wasthat Fish had drunk more than was good for him at Pittsburg. But all the savages ate of the meat which was placed before them, and Tom Fish, never neglecting an opportunity of this kind, made out a square meal also. The boys joining in, too, there was quite a feast.
One of the Indians, a good looking young buck, showed for Ree a warmer friendship than any of the others. He was the one whom the boy had mistaken for the chief of the party the day before. His name was Fishing Bird and the chief’s name was Big Buffalo. The latter was far from showing entire friendship and a dispute arose between these two savages when Ree told them that he and John wished to purchase land.
Fishing Bird indicated that the boys must go to the great chief of their tribe, Hopocon, or Captain Pipe, as the whites called him, at the village of the Delawares. Big Buffalo, on the other hand, contended that he himself had power to sell land.
Ree rightly judged as he saw an ugly feeling between these two, that he had made a serious mistake when he had mistaken Fishing Bird for the chief the day before, arousing the other’s jealousy very much. He thought now, that herecognized in Fishing Bird the Indian with whom he had grappled in the forest. If this were true, it was evident that that Indian, unwilling to confess how he had been vanquished, had said nothing to the others of his struggle with the escaped prisoner.
However, seeing that the land question might cause trouble, both Ree and John dropped it, having learned from the savages that a day’s journey to the south and west would take them to the Delawares’ town. They determined, therefore, to visit the village of Captain Pipe and talk with the great chief himself.
The afternoon was nearly spent before the Indians departed. They were scarcely gone when Tom Fish called Ree and John to him and the boys noticed for the first time that a great change had come over the old hunter, who for some time had little or nothing to say.
“Did ye see that fresh scalp hangin’ at that Buffalo varmint’s belt?” he asked. “That means blood. It means fightin’! I’ve seen many a Redskin, but I never seen a wickeder one than that Buffalo. An’ there’s no more play for Thomas Trout, which some calls Fish, my kittens, both! I tell ye now, that from what I seed,there was nothin’ kept us out of a fight this day but the friendliness o’ that chap Fishin’ Bird. If Big Buffalo had a’ dared, he’d a’ pitched onto us. Them’s my honest sentiments; an’ more’n that, did ye see the scalp at that red devil’s belt? Don’t tell me they ain’t been on the warpath! Did ye see that scalp, an’ the blood on it hardly more ’n dry? Oh, sorry day! Oh, sorry day—the blood on it hardly more’n dry. ’Cause I’m a plagued sight mistaken, kittens both, if I don’t know whose scalp that is! Oh, sorry day!”
Tom’s voice had sunk almost to a whisper and involuntarily John shuddered. The sinking sun cast thick, dark shadows in the narrow valley, and a death-like silence was broken only by the soughing wind and the tinkle of the brook.
These melancholy surroundings and the gruesome way in which Tom spoke, were enough to remove all cheerfulness which might have existed, but Tom said again, slowly and with a mournful emphasis, “I know—I know whose scalp it is, lads; an’ the blood on it hardly more’n dry.”
The rough woodsman put his arm across his eyes and leaned mournfully on his rifle, as he spoke.