In Kentucky with Daniel Boone

Following the scream of the woman, Eph Taylor turned around. He was the first of the riflemen to catch sight of the intruders. Like a flash the eye of Jerusha ceased to stare upon the wild scenes going on outside; it swept inward and the crack of the good rifle spoke the death of a Shawnee. Oliver’s piece accounted for another; two more fell in the act of braining a defender with their hatchets.

Taking warning from the deaths of the more adventurous the Shawnees upon the roof of the cabin made no more attempts by way of the chimney. Old Mr. Curley shrewdly judged that the swift fate which had overtaken their comrades would have this effect, but nevertheless he made sure there would be no more surprises from that direction.

“Dick,” said he, to one of his sons, a stalwart youth who had been firing from one of the port-holes with a pair of horseman’s pistols, “see to the fireplace. Don’t take your eyes off it, and if you catch sight of a red hide, fill it full of holes.”

Just then the most important thing of all was to scatter the fire from the door before it did serious harm. The brush was blazing furiously and that the door was also burning they felt sure, judging from the jets of smoke and flame that shot between the heavy planks. The man in buckskin, who was a trapper of the region and not connected with the little settlement on the fork, now ventured a plan.

“Let one man stand ready to throw open the door, let another have a pail of water to throw on the outside of it where it is burning, and two more stand ready to kick away the brush. But before the door is open we’ll drive the Injuns in front to cover; while they are still running will be the time to act.”

As this plan was as good as any, they at once proceeded to put it into operation. The rifles increased their deadly cracking and the Shawnees, who had continued their charges in order to keep the fire supplied with fresh brush, were unable to stand up under it. Helter skelter they fled for cover; the door was thrown open, the brush kicked away and a drench of water sent streaming over the burning planks. Then the door was slammed shut before the infuriated redskins had much idea of what was taking place, the bar dropped into its sockets, and the whites were permitted to breathe easier, now that all immediate danger from fire was past.

There followed some scattered volleys from the savages; but after a time a silence fell; and some distance away camp-fires began to sparkle in the forest.

“They’ve withdrawn for a while at least,” spoke Mr. Curley. “They will eat their meat at the fires and the cunning ones among them will arrange another plan of attack.”

Oliver and his friends during this lull gathered at one end of the cabin.

“It seems to me,” said young Barclay, “that the Indians mean to take this house one way or another. Even if they can’t capture it by attack they can starve us out.”

Eph Taylor nodded his head.

“Yes,” said he. “That’s what it will end with if help doesn’t come, I’m afraid.”

“With a fresh horse and a clear way through the Shawnees, I could make Captain Boone’s garrison by noon to-morrow,” said Oliver. “So why wait on the chance that help will come?”

“Noll!” cried Sandy; “you don’t mean to say that you’ll——”

“In a case like this,” said Oliver, firmly, “waiting is a mistake. Ill luck is as likely to befall as good. If they’ll let me, I’m going to venture it.”

In a moment he had left them and was eagerly engaged with Mr. Curley, the Baldwins and the McAfees. The man in buckskins also entered into the talk. Earnestly Oliver laid his thought before them; soberly they considered it; gravely they discussed its merits.

“My horse Hawk is like a cat at night,” said Oliver. “He is absolutely sure-footed and seems able to see in the dark. If I can win through the Shawnees he’ll carry me to Boone’s camp like the wind.”

The white-bearded Mr. Curley laid his hand kindly upon his shoulder.

“You are a brave lad,” said he; “and it’s with spirits like yours that success lies. So if you are eager to undertake this thing, I will not be one to lift my voice against it; for indeed its carrying out may mean the lives of us all.”

There was a murmur at this; all seemed to be of the same idea.

Without delay, Oliver went into the building where the horses were tied. Hawk lifted his head and rubbed his nose upon his young master’s shoulder. The young horse had gained in power since the day of his race with the wicked mount of Long Panther; and his increased years had lost him his coltish tricks. As he stood now he was a swift, intelligent horse of the sort which can be depended upon.

“Now, old fellow,” spoke the boy as he finished with the saddle and stood patting Hawk’s neck. “This is going to be a very lively night for both of us. So do your best for me; more depends on your heels to-night than ever before in your life.”

Sharply Eph Taylor scoured the clearing before the cabin; other eyes, equally eager and intent, did the like for the sides and the rear. But keen as was their vision they could penetrate but a short distance into the blackness. What was beyond the range of their sight they could only imagine.

“As far as I can see,” said Eph, “there’s no one to stop you. But,” and he stroked his long chin, “that’s not very far.”

“When I give the word, open the door very softly,” said Oliver. He then shook hands with those who pressed about him, wishing him a safe journey through the night; then he spoke quietly to Eph and Sandy. A moment later the door had opened and closed behind him.

Cautiously he turned his head from side to side, listening; Hawk stood as still as a beast of bronze, seeming to understand something of the danger of which he was a partaker. No sound reached the lad; from off among the trees he saw the flitting forms of the Indians about the camp-fires; but none of them seemed nearer. During the time spent at the port-holes of the Curley cabin, young Barclay had observed the lie of the land, thinking there might come a time when a dash for liberty would be their only chance. This served him well now in the darkness; mounting, he turned his horse’s head in the direction furthest removed from the Indian camp-fires, and so began his journey.

There was, as he had observed, an opening in the forest growth in this direction, and he trusted to the “night sight” and instinct of Hawk to find it.

In this his confidence was in every way warranted; in a direct line, apparently, the good horse made for the opening. But scarcely had he gained the blacker shadows cast by the trees on either side, than the horse stopped with a snort. At the same instant a number of forms leaped from the sides of the path, and Oliver was dragged to the ground.