CHAPTER XIII.The Strange Story of Arthur Bridges.
Putting down his book, Ree looked thoughtfully into Tom’s face.
“Of course,” said he, “John and I have wondered about that—that matter—but we have considered that you had some reason for not talking of it, or telling us what it meant; and it was really none of our business. But I want to say, Tom, that I would rather you would not tell me anything which I must keep from John. He and I—well, you know how we have always been together, and we have no secrets from each other.”
“Bless ye, Ree, lad,” exclaimed the old woodsman, “ye kin tell him all ye please of what I’m goin’ to tell ye. The only reason I don’t talk before him is—he’s so full o’ fun ye know; and ain’t always keerful what he says. I don’t keer when we’re spinnin’ yarns; but this here—it ain’t no triflin’ thing.”
“It’s John’s way. He would not hurt your feelings for anything, Tom.”
The hunter did not answer at once, but buried his face in his hands. Ree could plainly see that some great trouble was on his mind. Presently, however, he raised his head, and with a sigh clasped his hands over his knee.
“Arthur Bridges,” he began, “was as fine a young feller as ever the Colonies produced; an’ excep’ for bein’ a little wild, ye wouldn’t a’ asked to clap yer eyes on a promisin’er chap. It was odd he made up t’ me the way he did, me bein’ old enough to be his father, a’most, but ye see we was both at Valley Forge together, an’ all men was brothers there. We had jist one pair o’ shoes betwist us,—Art an’ me—an’ he wore ’em one day, an’ me the next, an’ so on. When grub was scant, we shared each with t’other, an’ when he got down sick I took keer on him.
“Art tol’ me all about himself then, an’ it was pitiful. His ol’ pap back in Connecticut was as pesky an’ ol’ Tory as ever did the Continental troops a bad turn; but his mother was loyal as anybody could be. She was born an’ bred in this kentry, an’ her husband had come from England; that was just the difference betwixt ’em, to start on. The upshot on it was, that Art believed as his mother did, an’ it wasnat’ral as could be that he should run off an’ join General Washington’s army. That is what he did anyhow, an’ his father swore that he hoped the lad would be killed, though his mother was prayin’ for his safety night an’ day.
“Once in a long time Art would get some word from home—always from his mother, tellin’ him to stick true through thick an’ thin an’ all would come right by an’ by. I guess maybe he believed it would, too; but I didn’t ever have much hope on it myself. Bein’ a little wild, as ye might say, Art got wilder yet in the army, though there was always a great love for his mother in him. But he got so toward the last that he hated his father—yes, hated him fearful. Then for a long stretch he didn’t hear nothin’ from home an’ didn’t see anybody as had heard anything about his folks.
“That’s how matters stood when the war was over. He says to me as how he was goin’ home, anyhow, an’ I tol’ him he better do that same. As for me, I was always for rovin’ an’ I lit out for Kaintucky which we was hearin’ was a great place for fightin’ an’ huntin’. So that’s how it come about that Art an’ me parted company.
“I was in Kaintucky an’ ’round thar for more’n four years; some o’ the time with Col. Boone an’ some o’ the time with other chaps. Then I got to longin’ to go back east an’ I went. I wasn’t thinkin’ o’ meetin’ up with Art Bridges again, as I reckoned on him bein’ up in Connecticut all settled down an’ married, prob’ly. But who should I meet up with one day but Art himself, lookin’ wilder an’ more reckless than when I seen him last. He comes up to me and slaps me on the shoulder an’ calls me by name a’most before I knowed him. An’ it did give me a big surprise to see how he had changed; not so much in looks as in his ways. He was that rough like. After a while he tol’ me all about himself, an’ I could a jist cried tears for him like a baby.
“He had got started home, he tol’ me, after the fightin’ was over, an’ I don’t know but he might a’ been pretty near there—I don’t just remember—but anyhow, who should he meet up with one day in a tavern, but a cousin o’ his who looked so much like him they would ’a passed for twins anywhere. This here cousin’s name was Ichabod Nesbit, an’ the first thing he did when he saw Art was to shake hands with him like they was at a funeral an’ say as how he had some awfulbad news to tell him. An’ then he went on to tell him as how his mother had died months before, an’ his ol’ pap was livin’ on an’ cursin’ the Colonies with pretty nigh every breath—an’ cursin’ his own son. This Nesbit feller told Art, too, as how the ol’ man had run through all his property an’ was livin’ alone an’ actin’ like a crazy man.
“Waal, Art was for goin’ back to see the ol’ man anyhow, to see if he couldn’t do somethin’ to straighten him up some; but this cousin, Ichabod, tol’ him as how he hadn’t better do it, sayin’ as how if he could come home an’ bring a fortune, folks would say it was all right; but if he was comin’ home with only the clothes on his back, why, he had better stay away; because he couldn’t do nothin’ with his father anyhow. An’ somehow this is jist the way Art was brought to look at it, an’ it upset him terrible. For of course the soldiers didn’t have no pocket full o’ money an’ it was pretty true, likewise, as how he didn’t have much more’n the clothes on his back, jist as Ichabod said. Pretty blue, an’ a’ most sick from all his plans o’ goin’ home bein’ spoiled, Art turned back right thar and led a rovin’ life for years. He was quick an’ sharp,an’ picked up a livin’, but that was ’bout all for he couldn’t settle down no place.
“All this an’ a lot more ’bout what he had been doin’, Art tol’ me there in Philadelphia, an’ I was for gettin’ him to go back west with me. But no, he wouldn’t; an’ me bein’ no hand to make out around the towns, I jist went back to the frontier an’ beyond. I was in Kaintucky an’ in this northwest kentry clean to Detroit. I got to know Simon Kenton, the Injun fighter, an’ I made some big huntin’ an’ fightin’ trips with him an’ other fellers.
“An’ so time run along till this last summer a year ago, I takes it into my head one day to go east agin; an’ when I had my mind made up there was no stoppin’ me. I didn’t go to Philadelphia right off, but to New York. I wanted to see the big piles o’ furs that come in thar.
“Now it turned out that one day in New York who should I meet up with but Joel Downs who was with us—Art an’ me—in the army. We was talkin’ away thar, when he asked me did I know what had ever become o’ Art Bridges? An’ it turned out that he went on to tell me then all ’bout how Art’s father was dead, an’ his mother left alone, workin’ hard to manage thefarm, though they was well off, because she wanted Art to have a nice place when he come home. For she wouldn’t believe the stories that was told around (by Ichabod Nesbit, I’ve been thinkin’) that Art was dead. So she was waitin’ an’ waitin’ for Art to come an’ never knowin’ how the poor boy had been lied to by his ’ornery cousin, an’ thinkin’ he’d come some day.
“Waal, ye kin jist guess how I felt when I heard all this! For I saw through it quicker’n wink that that ’ornery Ichabod was tryin’ to make folks think Art was dead, an’ schemin’ to get hold of the property that would be Art’s if he ever come home alive. But I never says a word ’bout this to Joel Downs. Not much! I wasn’t goin’ to have him goin’ back to Connecticut tellin’ folks as how Art was leadin’ a wild life an’ goin’ to the dogs.
“No, sir; I jist begun huntin’ for Art Bridges. I went to Philadelphia first, an’ got some track on him, findin’ out as how he had gone off to Kaintucky—lookin’ for me, I guess. I went off to Kaintucky too, jist as fast as I could. I got some track on him again, as how he had gone back to Philadelphia, We must ’a passed on the road somewheres. Back to PhiladelphiaI went again, an’ found out as how Art had gone west to Duquesne—Fort Pitt, or Pittsburgh they call it now. So I started for Fort Pitt, an’ on the way I met up with you young kittens on your way into this red devils’ own kentry.
“An’ I come on into this kentry because I found out at Fort Pitt that Art had gone on west intendin’ to make his way to Detroit, huntin’ an’ trappin’ an’ tradin’. He expected to go on to Detroit next spring an’ get a place with a big fur company in charge o’ some tradin’ post or other, away off somewheres, he didn’t keer where—he was jist that sick of the kind o’ life he was leadin’, an’ wanted to get ’way off from everybody.
“But that ain’t all! There was a man thar as said Ichabod Nesbit had been seen ’round thar, an’ he was lookin’ for Art Bridges, too. An’ I know that that ’ornery cousin was lookin’ for Art to murder him. I felt it in my bones. He wanted to be sure Art was dead an’ then he would go back an ’pass himself off as Art Bridges an’ have the property anyhow. Then when I heard as how Ichabod had passed himself off as Art in one place, I was sure I was right. But he didn’tneed to do no murder ’nless it was him as hired the bloody varmints to do it for him,” and the hunter’s voice grew husky, “for that—that thar scalp—it was Art Bridges’—an’ oh, if I had been jist a day sooner! For the blood on it was hardly more’n dry!”
Tom Fish sunk his face in his hands and a convulsive half-sob, half-sigh shook his body from head to foot, as though with ague.
Ree Kingdom drew nearer the sorrow-stricken man and took his big hand in his own.
“Tom,” he said, “it is a sad, sad story. I know just what you suffer. But listen, Tom. It is not absolutely certain that the scalp we saw was that of your friend. No man could positively swear to it, just by seeing the color of the hair. And here is another thing I have been wanting to tell you, Tom, but I did not like to interrupt you. I know how Arthur Bridges’ mother has been waiting and waiting for him to come. I have heard what she has suffered, for she is a sister of a Mrs. Catesby at whose home I lived and who was like a mother to me. But Mrs. Catesby’s husband, who is now dead, was not an agreeable man and the sisters hardly ever saw each other. They lived far apart, but now Mrs. Catesbyhas moved to town and they will be nearer one another. Mrs. Catesby was so kind to me, Tom, that I would be mean indeed if I would not try to help you find her nephew. But I will help you, and if he is now in this part of the country we will hear of him sooner or later through the Indians.”
“No, there is only one thing to do, an’ it is for me to do it,” Tom Fish replied without looking up. “You can’t help, Ree, an’ ye’d only get into a row an’ spoil all yer own plans. It is fer me to squar’ accounts—an’ I’ll—do it. For I tell, ye, Ree, I ain’t mistaken. I’d know that silky dark ha’r of Art Bridges’ if I seen it in Jerusalem. Oh, it’s too bad—it’s too bad!”
Ree could make no answer, and in another minute Tom Fish straightened up and said he would turn in. He told Ree to do the same, and as he lay himself down the boy heard him saying:
“We must all die—all die—an’ them that’s left can only squar’ accounts.”
Never before had the land of friends and civilization seemed to Ree to be so far away as it did that night. His busy thoughts kept him awake until nearly morning. He knew what Tom Fish meant when he said he would “squar’ accounts.”In other words he would make the Delawares pay for Art Bridges’ death. There would undoubtedly he trouble which would put an end to their plans for trading and home-making in this new country. They could not fight the redskins one day, and be received as peaceable traders the next.
And on the other hand, if Arthur Bridges, a peaceable trader, had been murdered, might he and John not be in greatest danger of the same fate? Was it not true that the Indians were treacherous and not to be trusted though they seemed friendly? Even if Tom began the fight alone, would not the Indians blame him and John as being friends of his, and attack them?
At last Ree went to sleep, resolving to persuade Tom Fish to await developments. He believed they could find out through Fishing Bird just where and how the bloody trophy which was at the root of their difficulty, had been secured. That might throw great light on the problem.
John was early astir next morning and began preparations for the visit to the Indian town for the council meeting at which the bargain for their land was to be finally confirmed. Ree wasstrangely silent as he also arose and ate the breakfast which John had ready.
Tom Fish likewise had nothing to say except that he stated that he would remain at the cabin while the boys were away, and might be doing some work at chinking the walls.
It was in the early winter, but the day came out bright and clear. Greatly the boys enjoyed the bright sunshine and the bracing air as they took their way through the woods, crossing the river at last, and following a much used trail which took them toward the Delawares’ village. This was a new route to them, but it was the course the Indians traveled and they found it better than the unbroken way they had previously taken in going to the lake beside which Capt. Pipe’s people lived. As they walked along Ree told the story of Arthur Bridges as Tom had told it to him, and earnestly they discussed their situation.
In three hours the boys came to the Indian town, and Capt. Pipe called a council to settle the bargain for the land. There was speech making as before, but less of it, and then came a feast. But this too, was less formal than before.The Indians seemed about to go on a hunting expedition and had less time for other matters.
The Delawares promised to do much trading with the young Palefaces, and the boys would have considered their prospects very bright had it not been for the likelihood of trouble arising through Tom Fish’s desire for revenge.
The little information Ree secured from Fishing Bird was not at all re-assuring, either. That agreeable, but none the less wily, savage would give him no satisfaction when he questioned him concerning the bloody trophy Big Buffalo had had, declaring, indeed, that no white man had been killed by the Delawares for a very long time.
The boys started on their homeward way in time to arrive before dark, and reached the clearing just after sundown. With a hop, step and jump John ran forward and up the ascent, to the door.
“Why, where is Tom?” he called as he entered. “The fire is out and there is no sign of him anywhere. He said he would stay here all day.”
CHAPTER XIV.Treed by Wolves.
The disappearance of Tom Fish caused both boys considerable uneasiness. They at first thought that he might return during the evening, though the fact that the fire had gone out, indicated that he had left the cabin early in the day. As they crept into their rough but comfortable bunks, however, and no sign of his coming had been heard, the lads realized the strong probability that the woodsman had set out by himself to avenge the death of Arthur Bridges, and that he had intended going when he told Ree the strange story of that young man, the night before.
What the consequences of Tom’s undertaking might be, afforded grave cause for alarm. By reason of his having been looked upon as a member of their party, the Indians would consider the boys equally guilty in any offense which he might give.
“We will have to make the best of it, thoughand if it comes to fighting, we will fight like Trojans,” said Ree, with some cheerfulness as he saw that John was quite depressed. “But our best plan will be to say nothing to Capt. Pipe’s people about Tom. It may be that he left us on purpose to avoid getting us into trouble.”
John agreed to this way of reasoning, hoping as Ree did, that it would be only a few days until they would see Tom and learn what his plans were. But time passed rapidly and nothing was seen or heard of the missing man. Had Tom been anything but a skilled woodsman the lads might probably have worried for his safety. As it was, that phase of the situation was scarcely thought of.
By working early and late, thawing the frozen clay beside their fire, when the weather was cold, that they might quickly get all the cracks in the cabin walls closed up, the boys accomplished a great deal in a week’s time. Several times little parties of Indians came to trade with them, but the savages never mentioned Tom Fish’s name. Big Buffalo came once and appeared more hateful than ever, suggesting the unpleasant thought that perhaps he knew more concerningthe absent man than he would have been willing to tell.
The Delawares were not the only Indians who passed along the river and stopped to exchange skins for cloth, knives, beads or other articles. The Wyandots, Chippewas and Senecas had villages to the west and north and were coming or going quite frequently. Sometimes wandering Mingoes came along, and for them it may be said that they were more disposed to make trouble than any of the others. The reason probably lay in the fact that they were still to some extent influenced by British traders who retained feelings of hostility toward the colonies, and used their influence to secretly cause Indian disturbances along the borders.
At no great distance from the cabin was the Portage trail referred to in the previous chapter as passing near the Delaware town. This path was much used by all the Indians in traveling between the Great Lakes and the Ohio river, as it was the only stretch of land they must cross in making all the remainder of the journey by water. Thus they willingly carried their canoes over eight miles or so of land from the Cuyahoga to the Tuscarawas river, or vice versa, for thesake of paddling on their way with ease and rapidity the rest of the way, either north or south.
Thus, as their visitors were many, the loft the boys had built in their cabin came to contain a richer and richer store, as they placed there the furs they secured. Sitting before the fire at night they would sometimes estimate their probable profits, and as they discussed this and other subjects, the lads never forgot that their safety was the very first thing with which they must reckon. In this connection they were glad when they learned that Big Buffalo had gone away on a hunting trip with a large party of Delawares and would probably not return until spring.
There was another subject which was sometimes spoken of—the fact that the prowling enemy who had killed their horse had not for a long time given any sign of being in the vicinity. Out of these talks grew a theory that, perhaps, that secret foe was Big Pete Ellis, and that having killed old Jerry he had at last decided that his revenge was complete.
Their health, too, was a matter for daily thought with the boys, and remembering that they must be careful to guard against needlessexposure, but both being hardy and robust, they were little troubled.
So the time passed and all promised well. They contrived many traps for the capture of fur-bearing animals, and to catch turkeys and other game for food. Chief of their traps was the dead-fall, made by propping up one end of a short piece of puncheon or hewed plank, in such a way that it would fall upon the animal which attempted to secure the bait placed on a trigger beneath it. This trigger was a part of the prop under the puncheon and gave way at the slightest jar. As the plank fell it caught the creature which had disturbed it, and being weighted down with stones, held its victim fast.
Wolf pens were also made and very successfully used. These were built of small logs on the same principle as a box trap, having a very heavy lid which fell, shutting inside any animal which entered and attempted to eat the bait placed on the spindle, which at the least pull, gave way, letting the lid fall.
The turkey traps were made in the Indian fashion. A small, low enclosure was built with sticks, a small opening or door being made close to the ground. The pen was then covered withbrush except for a passage way leading to the door, and along this path beechnuts or other bait, were scattered, the trail of nuts extending into the enclosure. A turkey finding the food would follow it, its head near the ground, enter the pen, and having eaten all it could find, would raise its head and so be unable to see its way out.
The boys did not have so much time for hunting as they had planned upon, and yet scarcely a day passed but one of them sallied forth, nearly always coming home with valued furs or meat for their table. They found it advisable that one should remain near the cabin, both for its protection from Indians who might steal, and to trade with those who passed. Thus, while Ree would be spending a day with his axe clearing the land near their home, John would be miles away, perhaps, rifle in hand, eyes and ears alert.
The next day, perhaps, Ree would have his turn at hunting. Every day, too, they visited their traps to secure any creatures which had been captured and to reset the snares or change their location. Wood for the fire must be gathered, also, and it was wonderful how great a quantity of fuel the big fire-place consumed; andpine knots from the rocky ravine farther up the river, or hickory bark from the hillsides in the opposite direction, must be secured every few days to afford light for the evenings. There were also furs to be cured, and much else to be done, all uniting to make the short winter days very busy ones, and to keep the long winter evenings from being tedious.
Night was the favorite time for baking and for the preparation of such dishes as they thought they would most enjoy. Many were the feasts the young friends had, though their stock of supplies included little besides meal and fresh meat. At first they had occasionally secured beans and squashes from the Indians, but the improvident savages soon exhausted their supplies and were themselves dependent on corn and game.
December had gone and January was well under way when there came a great snow storm, which, at the end of a week left drifts piled high in all directions. The snow was soft and light but so deep that it was well nigh impossible for one to make his way through it, and Ree and John quickly agreed to occupy themselves with work in and near the cabin. They set about addingnew conveniences to their home, such as shelves and cupboards, pegs, etc. They hewed and whittled out long, thin hickory slats, which they placed lengthwise on the rough bedstead they had built in one corner, and found them so springy and comfortable to sleep upon, when a couple of skins and a blanket had been spread over them, that they were sorry they had not sooner thought of this improvement.
John made a broom of hickory splints which did its work to perfection, and Ree sharpened up his knife and carved from a whitewood block several plates and trays to add to their meager collection of dishes. Both boys improved the opportunity also, while shut in, to give their wardrobes attention, making themselves stout moccasins, coon-skin caps and buckskin breeches.
Ree found time during many evenings to read again and again the few books he had. John was less given to reading, but with much care and diligence he managed to make a fife by boring a maple stick through from end to end with a thin piece of iron from their cart, much of which had been carried piece-meal to the cabin. Having natural musical talent, he learned to play the instrument he thus fashioned, andthough Ree had declared, as he practiced, that he would surely bring the savages down upon them in war paint, he liked the music as well as its maker.
So, for a fortnight the boys were scarcely out of sight of the cabin. The weather was bitter cold much of that time and no Indians came near. There at last came a day, however, when the wind blew steadily from the southwest, bringing with it at night a cold rain. Changing to the north, the wind turned the rain to sleet, followed by cold weather again.
“We must have snow-shoes,” said Ree, when he saw what was taking place, and the third day the boys ventured forth on such contrivances as they had made and did finely with them on the thick, slippery crust which had formed. Taking their rifles, they made their way through the river valley, which, farther up the stream, became quite narrow, steep, rocky banks rising on both sides to a height of fifty feet or more. No sooner had they entered this canyon than they found evidences of deer and other animals having taken shelter there.
Going quietly forward, the lads discovered four of the timid, beautiful creatures huddledtogether. They went quite near before the deer leaped away through the frozen snow, and Ree quickly brought one down. John did better—or worse—killing one and wounding another. They secured the skins and choice parts of the meat and hanging these in a tree for safety, pushed on after the two which had escaped. They especially desired to capture the doe which had been wounded, not so much for its value, but because Ree insisted that it would be downright cruelty to let the poor creature suffer from its injury for days, perhaps, then die at last.
But the young hunters traveled far before again coming upon the animals they sought. The trail took them out of the narrow valley or canyon, and a long distance through the woods to a locality they had never before visited, where the earth was cut by deep ravines, zig-zagging in nearly all directions, and great rocks often obstructing the way. Here the trail of the deer they were following was lost amid the tracks of others which had gone into the deep rugged gullies to escape the stinging wind.
“We may as well give it up, Ree,” said John, as they sat down to rest.
“Oh no, we mustn’t give up,” Ree answered,“but I’ll tell you what we’d better do. It is more than likely the Indians will be out in snow shoes the same as we are, and they may want to swap some dollar furs for penny knick-knacks this afternoon. One of us should be at the cabin.”
“I’ll go,” John willingly responded, for he liked to trade with the Indians, and could make much better bargains than Ree; not but what he was honest, but because Ree was so generous that he was often imposed upon.
“Will you stop for the venison we left in the tree?” Ree asked.
“I think I’d better; there is no knowing where you will be when you find that wounded deer! But don’t stay out all night!”
With this sally John started homeward, and Ree resumed his search for blood-stains in the snow which would show him the trail he sought. Going about among the rocks he discovered an opening about half the size of a door which seemed to lead straight back into a rocky cliff.
“Some sort of a cave,” he mused, inspecting it more closely and looking into it. He saw nothing, and, stooping down, ventured in a little way. His eyes accustomed to the bright light ofthe snow, he was unable to see anything in the darkness, or he might not have been so bold; for the next moment a chorus of fierce growls caused him to retreat.
“Bears, or wolves—bears, most likely,” said Ree to himself. “At least if they are wolves there should be tracks about the mouth of the cave. I must remember this place.”
Having first looked about to make sure of the exact location of the cavern, and resolving to explore it at some future time, the youthful hunter hurried on. Under a clump of low pines he presently discovered a herd of seven deer. One lagged behind, as they fled at his approach, and Ree knew at once that it must be the wounded animal. He followed at the best pace possible, but the deer was soon lost sight of, though the poor thing had a difficult time of it to make any progress through the crusted snow.
However, Ree kept to the trail for he was sure the doe could not go far; yet hour after hour passed and he saw no hope of accomplishing his purpose. Had it not been that the deer was traversing a circle, the trail now taking him in the direction of the cabin, he would have been obliged to give up the pursuit. But now hepassed through the ravine where the deer had been wounded and up a steep slope towards home. By this time the sun was going down, and from not far ahead of him Ree heard the howling of wolves. If he could have looked but a little way into the future, he would have taken the shortest route to the cabin.
However, wolves had never given much trouble and Ree had no thought of being afraid, though the howling sounded nearer and nearer as he continued on. Soon, however, he guessed what had happened. The wounded deer, unable to escape, had been killed by the fierce dogs of the wilderness which were now devouring it. And in another minute the boy saw them at their awful feast. With anger and foolhardy courage he sprang directly among the struggling beasts, clubbing them with his rifle.
Mad with starvation and the taste of fresh blood, one big wolf leaped toward the courageous boy and others followed. He was barely able to hold them at bay while he backed away toward a tree, swinging his rifle right and left with desperate energy as he went. Closer and closer still the wolves pressed him, snapping, snarling, howling—their long sharp teeth and red throatsbeing so near that he could almost feel their hot breath on his face. But he reached the tree—a beech, one of whose lower limbs was almost within reach. He leaped upward to seize it, but as he did so his rifle caught on a bush and was jerked from his hand. A great gray foamy-jawed creature snapped closely at his heels and by a hair’s breadth he escaped, as he drew himself quickly upward.
Howling like enraged demons the wolves gathered about the tree. They seemed to know that sooner or later they would drink human blood. Ree thought of this. His only weapon was the knife Capt. Bowen had given him, which he always carried. But his active brain was busy and he determined to take a desperate chance in an effort to secure his rifle.
CHAPTER XV.A Maple Sugar Camp in the Wilderness.
Selecting a stout limb for his purpose, Ree set to work to cut and trim it, making a short, heavy club. He believed that if he should jump suddenly down among the wolves, their surprise would be so great as to keep them away for perhaps a second—long enough to permit him to seize his rifle, and again fight his way into the tree. As he trimmed the thick branch, however, an increasing danger presented itself. The unusual howling of the pack and the scent of blood were attracting other wolves to the spot. Before his club was ready, he had counted seven newcomers galloping through the snow to join their blood-thirsty brothers.
To put his life in peril by jumping down among so many of the fierce creatures was to run a greater risk than Ree thought wise; but his fertile brain presented a new plan. He partially split one end of his club and securely bound the handle of the knife in the opening thus made,with strips of buckskin cut from his clothing. In this way he made a strong but cumbersome spear, and holding to the lowest branch of the tree, he leaned far down and stabbed and slashed at every wolf within reach.
Several were wounded and their yelps of pain and rage were added to the hideous, hungry cries of the others. Again and again the bold boy cut and thrust as the wolves kept coming within his reach. The snow was dyed with blood. For half an hour the battle was carried on.
At last by a lucky stroke Ree gave one of the howling mass beneath him so deep a cut across the neck, that it sprang but a few yards away and fell dead, its head half cut off. At once the others pounced upon the wolf’s body, tearing it to pieces, scrambling and fighting in a most horrible manner.
Now was Ree’s chance. He leaped quickly to the ground and seized his blood-stained rifle; in another moment he would have been safe. But he was so chilled—so stiff from the cold, that he missed his hold when first he sprang to catch the lowest branch, and before he could try again, a monstrous gray wolf dashed toward him. With a hungry howl, its jaws dripping blood, itlaunched itself through the air, straight for Ree’s throat.
With wonderful nerve the boy stood his ground. He did not falter, nor hesitate. He met the hot-mouthed, vicious brute, his rude spear clasped in both hands, and drove the blade deep in its shaggy shoulder. With an almost human shriek and ferocity the wolf sprang sidewise under the impulse of the steel’s sharp thrust, and the spear quivering in its flesh, was jerked from the boys’ hands.
Ree’s first impulse was to run in pursuit, as the wolf dashed into the woods, to recover his knife; but in an instant the whole pack was upon him again, having made short work of their cannibal-like feast, and only by the greatest dexterity was he able again to seize his rifle and climb to safety, ere they reached him.
“Now some of you will smart!” the half-frozen boy exclaimed, and he clenched his teeth in righteous anger. Shot after shot he poured into the blood-thirsty brutes, and watched with horror as those remaining alive pounced upon the dying ones. Four wolves he killed and two he wounded, then sat still awhile to catch his breath and scrutinize the dozen animals remaining,to see whether the one in whose body his knife had been carried off, was there. He did not see it, though the twilight gloom was now dispelled by bright moonlight. So, soon he resumed the terrible execution he had wrought among the pack, and was firing as fast as he could load, when he heard John’s familiar whistle.
“Watch out, John! There are still eight of the fiercest wolves you ever saw here!” he called in warning, but almost simultaneously his chum’s rifle sounded, and but seven wolves remained. Another and another went down to death and the five which were left, taking fright at last, sped away among the timber, howling dismally.
“You had me scared into fits, almost,” John cried, as Ree climbed down. “Why, how cold you are!” he exclaimed, grasping his friend’s hand. “And your teeth are chattering! How did it happen any way? Come along home!”
“I’ll tell you about it; but we’d better skin the wolves that have not been half eaten, first. Bloody as a battle field, isn’t it?”
“Skin nothing! Come along! It is most terribly cold and you are half frozen. We canget the skins in the morning if there is any thing left of them.”
For once Ree yielded and when he had recovered his snow-shoes John marched him off at a pace which soon put his blood in circulation.
If ever the young pioneers appreciated the rude comforts of their cabin, they did that night. It was sweet to feel snug and warm and safe, as Ree told the story of his adventure more fully than at first; to stretch their weary legs toward the crackling fire and lean back in the fur covered seat they had constructed. It was pleasant to eat a lunch of nuts secured from the Indians, and venison steaks cut thin and broiled crisp. It was comfortable to creep into bed and lie awake and talk of their plans; of their friends in far away Connecticut; of incidents of their trip; of the strange absence of Tom Fish; of the sad story of Arthur Bridges—of many, many things.
And it was pleasant to watch with half closed eyes, the firelight dancing on the rough cabin walls, shining in the little looking glass near the door, showing the rifles within easy reach in the corner near the bed; the two sets of pistols in their hostlers on the table they had made; the gleaming blades of their axes, besidethe fire-place; the books Ree loved so well, arranged on a board from the old cart, which did duty as a mantel, and John’s fife beside them; the frying-pan and their few dishes on and in a little cupboard in the corner. It was sweet, too, to fall asleep at last and dream of the present, past and future—enjoying the perfect rest which the fatigue of honest, hard work by those possessed of honest hearts must ever bring.
The boys were very tired this night, partly from the unusual exercise of walking so far on snow-shoes, no doubt. But they slept soundly and were early awake. Directly after breakfast they visited the scene of the fight with the wolves. They little expected to find anything left of their victims, excepting bones, but they greatly desired to find the knife which had been Capt. Bowen’s present.
Bones they did find—but nothing else. There was every evidence of a ghastly feast having been eaten by the wolves and other animals during the night. Even the skeletons of those which had been slaughtered, were torn to pieces, and for rods around the snow was dyed crimson.
To cry over spilled milk was no part of Ree’s disposition, and though he deeply regretted theloss of his knife, he did not allow himself to be dispirited, though little he thought how important a part in their adventures the knife was yet to play.
In their walks about the woods at different times, Ree and John had observed that there were many sugar maples near their cabin and had agreed that they must make some sugar when spring came. That very afternoon, therefore, they began preparations.
Blocks of wood, cut into lengths of about two feet, they hollowed out with their axes, making troughs in which to catch the sap of maples. The work was tedious and many a trough was split and spoiled when all but completed, before they caught the knack of avoiding this by striking curved strokes with their axes, and not letting the blades cut in deeply, in line with the grain of the wood.
This work, and the making of spouts by punching the pith out of sumac branches occupied several days. Not all their time could be given to it, however, as traps must be visited and Indians given attention; for now that the weather was becoming warm the savages came frequently,often with many furs secured during winter hunting expeditions.
“We have made a pretty good living and a nice sum of money for each of us, when our furs shall have been marketed, and have also made ourselves a home,” said Ree one day, as they were estimating the probable value of their stores. “After deducting for all losses, we will still have done splendidly if we are fortunate in getting the skins to Pittsburg or Detroit and working a fair bargain with the buyers.”
“We better get a good canoe Ree, and learn to use it; then we can take the furs from here to Detroit by water, traveling along the shore of Lake Erie,” John suggested. “Capt. Pipe has a couple of fine, big canoes of his own, buried for the winter. I believe he would sell us one.”
“We will go and have a talk with him about it soon,” Ree answered. But it was not for many days that the lads found time to do this.
Fine weather came sooner than they expected. The spring of 1791 was one of the earliest known to the section which is now Northern Ohio. Even in February the sun came out bright and warm and the cold winds disappeared.
John and Ree awoke one morning after arainy night to find the water high in the river, the ice gone and the air as mild as on a day in May.
“Hooray! I’ve a mind to take a swim!” John shouted, looking with enthusiasm at the high water.
“I wish we had our canoe now,” Ree joined in; “but I’ll tell you, old chap, we must get our maples tapped, if we are to get any sugar.”
John turned away from watching the swift, deep current with a sigh. Somehow he did not feel like working; but under Ree’s influence he soon forgot his “spring fever” feeling, and with a small auger bored holes in the trees. Into these holes Ree drove the spouts, placing a trough beneath each one, to catch the sap which at once began to flow.
As all the trees were near the cabin the boys might have carried the sap to their fire-place for boiling, but as this would necessitate the carrying of a great deal of wood, they hung their largest kettle on a pole laid across two forked sticks driven in the ground for that purpose, just at the top of the hill near the edge of the clearing.
By noon enough sap was collected in thetroughs to make it necessary to begin the boiling, and from then on through all that day and the next, one of the boys was constantly busy, keeping the fire blazing hot and gathering sap to keep the kettle well filled, as the water was boiled away, leaving only its sweetness. At last they added no fresh sap but allowed the syrup in the kettle to boil down thicker and thicker making in the end, most delicious molasses.
The boys finished the boiling in the cabin that night, and when the syrup had become thick enough, they were able by stirring and cooling it, to make an excellent quality of sugar. And it had been so long since either of them had tasted sweets, that the maple’s fine product was indeed a treat. The prospect that they would be able to make enough sugar to last them until another spring, was highly agreeable, and they were willing enough to work hard during many days which followed.
One regret the boys had, was that they possessed but two kettles, neither of which was very large; but they boiled sap in both and found that by greasing the upper edges of the vessels that they could keep them quite full and still the sap would not boil over.
They also tried the very primitive method used by the Indians before they had kettles in which to make sugar. Several large, nearly round stones were washed clean, then heated very hot in the fire. With improvised tongs they were then lifted into a large keg of cold sap. As this operation was constantly repeated, the sap was heated and slowly evaporated.
The process proved so very slow and laborious, however, that the boys soon abandoned it. But while the experiment was being tried, something occurred which made John laugh until he held his sides. The keg of sap had been heated to almost a boiling point, and putting a couple of large, hot stones in it both boys left the camp, John to gather more sap and Ree to chop some wood.
As John was returning, he discovered a young bear prowling about the camp. The animal evidently had not been long out of its winter quarters and was hungry. It sniffed the sweet odor which came from the evaporating maple water, and ambled up to the keg.
Quietly John ran and called Ree, and they both hurried softly back just as the bear put its nose deep into the hot sap. A squeal of painfollowed, and the poor cub nearly turned a backward somersault, with such sudden energy did it take its nose out of the keg. Wild with the smarting burns the creature rushed blindly about, almost burying its head in the cool leaves and earth, and missing its footing, somehow, as it approached a steep part of the hill, fell and rolled to the bottom, squealing and growling woefully. Before John could check his laughter, the bear had picked itself up and trotted swiftly away, and Ree was willing to let it go unharmed, though he could have shot it.
This incident set the boys to thinking. Bruin evidently knew the smell of honey better than of sap. All bears delight in sweet things, and Ree said he had no doubt there were bee trees in the neighborhood. At any rate, the lads decided, it would be well worth while to be on the lookout for them as they were about the woods during the spring and summer.
Continued fine weather put an end to the maple season. In a fortnight the buds began to open on the trees and the flow of sap ceased. About this time, too, the Portage trail, not far away, was constantly traversed by redskins, many of them strangers, and therewere daily calls at the cabin of the young Palefaces. So there was much to do; the spring crops must be planted, the pile of furs must be taken to market and fences must be completed to keep deer and other animals out of the cornfield they proposed having.
There was another thing needing early attention, and that was the securing of land at the junction of the Portage trail and the river. For the boys could not but see how advantageous that place would be as a trading point, and they wished to build a new and larger cabin there. Moreover, as the country was opened up and settled, the land about so favorable a site for a town would probably become very valuable.
“We will go to see Capt. Pipe to-morrow, and bargain with him for a canoe, and for some land where the trail and the river meet,” said Ree one warm March night as they sat on the doorstep of their cabin, in the moonlight.