On the Border with Andrew Jackson

As in all his previous advances, General Jackson sent a body of horsemen before the main column, under command of the giant Colonel Coffee. In advance of these, again, rode the scouts and pathfinders, mostly Indians and hunters who knew the country through which they were passing.

Jack and Frank were in this party of keen-sighted trailers, and rode side by side down the forest aisles and across the shallow streams. Jack regarded his friend with a humorous look.

“This kind of a thing is different from Richmond,” said he. “You wouldn’t find there things so stirring, nor so exciting, of an early morning, I know.”

Frank laughed.

“Well, not usually,” said he. “But,” and he nodded his head, “I’d not have missed it for a good deal. And now that my father has had the news about his land and, according to his letter, is feeling quite comfortable about it, I’m in no hurry to go back to Virginia, I can tell you. Things are not so regular here; but they have a great sight more go in them.”

Frank, while they were still at Fort Deposit, had received a letter from his father, expressing great pleasure at the news sent him; and also telling of the gratification it gave him to hear of his boy’s gallant conduct. It was Jack who had written to tell him of this, without Frank’s knowledge. Frank had been dubious as to the result when he learned of it, but his father’s letter had settled all this.

“Danger, my dear boy,” the old man had written, “is a thing which every man must face in one form or another. That you have faced what has come to you in the performance of your duty pleases me beyond description. And since that other duty (your aid in defending the homes of those who have befriended you) has arisen, I can only say, God bless you. Do what you have to do with all your might, and never think of yourself or me.”

“The old gentleman was always game, I remember,” said Jack, who had been handed this letter by Frank, and who had read it with a great deal of interest. “And I’m glad I wrote him as I did; for he’s as proud of it all as a hen that has a gosling for a chicken.”

Frank laughed once more.

“It’s a very good thing that you did write,” said he, “for now I can stay on down here until all this trouble’s over and not feel that father is worrying about me.”

The country through which they were passing was one of huge timbered stretches, streams, ravines and canebrakes; the scouts were forced to go slowly, searching out the best way for the column of troops to follow; also they were compelled to watch for lurking parties of hostiles.

“They are sure to know of what took place at Tallushatchee,” said Jack to his friend as they rode along. “And they are also sure to be watching us. Creeks don’t need much cover, as I guess you know by this time; and a little attention to the bush and canebrakes’ll not be thrown away.”

The idea of a lurking foe was not at all pleasant to the young Virginian; but he held his rifle ready and set his jaw and guided his nag along without an instant’s hesitation. They had covered half of the thirty miles to Talladega when the formation of the country caused the scouts to separate and advance in detached groups. The two boys still remained together, Jack in advance and Frank close behind; they rode along a narrow ridge which rose up like the vertebræ of some monster; upon all sides of them was lowering tangled forest and canebrake. In the distance they could hear the crashing progress of their fellow scouts, but they could not see any of them because of the tangle.

Then suddenly, without an instant’s warning, a band of Creeks rose up, apparently from their very path; before they had a chance to fire a shot, to strike a blow or make an outcry, they were dragged from their horses; and in a few moments lay bound with thongs of deerskin, and gagged with sticks thrust between their jaws and tied fast.

Silently and expertly the Creek braves performed their task; then with the two prisoners thrown across the horses, they made their way like shadows into the depths.

That it was a war party was plain to the boys by the variously colored paints which streaked their faces, and from the war bonnets of eagle and heron plumes upon their heads. As Jack had guessed, the leaders of the horde surrounding Talladega had sent out groups of spies to watch for the advance of the whites, and the lads had had the bad fortune to stumble upon one of these.

Cleverly, readily, with the sureness of men accustomed to the ground over which they traveled, the Creeks hurried through the forest, aiming to get out of the path of the advancing whites; once they felt they had done this, they veered slightly and headed in the direction of their operations at Talladega. Night fell, but the party of spies pressed on; at length they came in sight of the camp-fires of their main body; they halted, and one of them blew a clear bird-like call. Almost immediately it was answered by a hidden sentinel; then they advanced about twenty-five yards further. A half dozen Creeks rose up from the concealment of stumps and glided from behind trees. Greeting the newcomers, they examined the captives by the light of torches kindled at a masked fire.

“Ugh! much good horse,” spoke a fat brave, as he passed a covetous hand over the animals.

“White face heap jump!” exulted a gaunt savage, hideously disfigured by war paint and pox-marks. His snaky eyes were riveted upon the bound boys and gleamed with wicked anticipation. “Much jump when Muscogee torture.”

The lads were pulled from the horses’ backs; much to their relief, the gags were removed from their mouths and their legs were unbound. However, their hands were kept tied behind their backs; and in this way they were marched forward into the camp of the besiegers.

In the heart of this, surrounded by rank on rank of sleeping and squatting Indians, they were bound back to back to a tree. Three braves were stationed with them as guards; what stir they had caused subsided; apparently their cases had been put aside until morning.

“Well,” said Jack, turning his head as far as possible to get a glimpse of his friend, “we’ve got into a kind of mess, eh?”

“It looks like it,” agreed Frank. “We’ve lost horses, rifles, saddles and everything else.”

“That’s bad enough,” said Jack. “But,” and there was a grave note in his voice, “we stand a fair chance of losing our lives as well.”

There was silence for a moment or two; then Frank said, soberly:

“It’s a bad scrape. I wonder what sort of odds we have against us in the matter of escape.”

“Hush!” said Jack, in a low warning tone.

The three Creek warriors detailed as their guards were moving up and down, silently; they were armed with spears and hatchets and knives, and appeared to be a surly, suspicious trio indeed.

“Hello, I say, Red Stick,” said Jack to one of them. “I’d like a drink of water.”

The guard spoken to looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Ugh!” spoke he, and went on in his slow pacing to and fro.

“All right,” said the young borderer, “you, then,” to a second, “could you get me some water?”

This savage shook his head and said something to the third guard in the Muscogee tongue. But that brave also seemed puzzled, and growled impatiently like a bear that had been disturbed. Two or three times more Jack tried them; then being satisfied by their manner he said, in a relieved way to Frank:

“I guess you can go on with what you were saying. None of these fellows speaks English.”

“Here we are in the middle of them all,” said the young Virginian, his eyes going about the camp with its hundreds of prostrate and huddled forms, “and as we have no notion about what to-morrow is going to bring us, it would be best, I think, to begin counting our chances of getting away.”

“The only good chance is in General Jackson’s coming up with the army,” said Jack. “But,” and like Frank, he allowed his gaze to go about the sleeping camp, “I’ve heard of men’s escaping from Indian villages with as many chances against them as we have.”

“Who knows?” spoke Frank, hopefully. “We may be as lucky as they.”

“You never can tell what might turn up,” said Jack, his voice colored by the hope he caught in that of his comrade. “Let’s look into the prospects a little.”

Again there was a silence. The guards paced up and down with lagging steps, the sleepers were as motionless as logs; from the depths of the woods came the calls of night birds and the occasional howl of a timber wolf. The fires had grown a dull red; through the thick of the trees a crescent moon was sending pale trails of light.

“Just across from me,” said Frank, who faced the north, “is the sleeping place of one whom I take to be a chief. Maybe he’s the commander of the whole band. At any rate, all our things have been put in his charge, rifles, horses and all.”

“Huh!” said Jack, thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.” He seemed to consider the proposition for a moment, then added: “But, tied up as we are here, I don’t see what good it will do us.”

“Suppose we were not tied up,” said Frank.

Jack caught at something in the tone which caused a thrill to shoot through him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, in a hushed way.

“My hands are untied,” said Frank. “I’ve been working at the thongs for the last half hour. Keep still now; I’m going to see what can be done for yours.”

Jack felt a fumbling about his wrists; the tree to which they were tied was not a very large one, and Frank had no difficulty in reaching around it, even though his back was turned. Frank’s long, strong, clever fingers had been noted in the school at Richmond, and Jack now recalled some of the feats which his friend had then performed. So it was with growing interest and hope that he felt the fumbling at the thongs increase.

“How are you doing?” he asked, anxiously.

“The knot’s the same,” answered Frank, “but I broke my nails badly on my own; so this will be harder.”

However, in a few minutes, Jack, to his keen delight, felt the thong loosen. He had difficulty in restraining the cry of exultation which leaped to his lips, but managed to pass the supreme moment without giving any evidence of the situation. A little more and the thong was loose enough for him to slip his hands through.

“Now,” said Frank, “feel around for the knots in the strip that fasten you to the trunk; once we get them untied we’ll have some sort of a chance, anyway.”

The tree to which they were bound was well within the shadows; they worked quietly, and so did not attract the attention of their guards. The knots were hard to find and when their searching fingers had found them, they were in such difficult positions for working that it was almost impossible to do anything with them. However, they gave themselves steadily and doggedly to the task and, finally, were elated to feel the tough leather give; a few moments afterward their bonds were in such a condition that they could step out whenever it pleased them to do so.

“Now that that’s done,” breathed Jack, “let’s give a little more attention to the lay of the land.”

The quiet of the night, the uneventful nature of their duty, had caused the braves guarding them to lag in their steps. Finally one of them, his war club upon his shoulder, had paused and leaned against a tree. It was not long before the other two had followed suit. However, as all three of them faced the captives there was no apparent increase in the chances of the latter for escape.

“They are keeping their eyes on us,” said Jack, quietly.

“I see they are,” spoke Frank. “Do you suppose they suspect anything?”

“About our being loose? No. If they did, we’d hear from them without delay.”

Stillness hung heavily over the camp. Some distance away, the ring of braves about the town of Talladega occasionally gave evidences of being upon the alert; but the warriors here, perhaps worn out by a day of conflict, slept like tired animals.

“If we only had our rifles and our horses under us,” said Frank, longingly, “we could make a rush for it.”

“Quiet,” said Jack, for he feared their talking might be noticed by the guards. “I think I hear something.”

Jack faced the denser section of the wood in which the Creek camp was pitched. For some little time he had been watching the thin, trailing moonbeams as they filtered through the limbs and clambering vines. The pallid rays gave no light of any consequence; indeed, they only seemed to make the shadows deeper. The rustle of the small wild things of the wood occasionally came from the tangle, but as Jack had looked and watched, there had come a sound which was different, a regular purposeful sound which to his quick ears and attentive mind suggested the advance of some one or something who desired to remain unseen and unheard.

“What is it?” asked Frank, after a space. He had listened but had heard nothing.

“I get a sound now and then,” said Jack. “It comes from off here in the woods, and sounds like some one stealing up to have a look at us.”

“It’s probably one of the Creeks,” whispered Frank.

But Jack, listening, only pressed the speaker’s arm for quiet. For the sound had gone on in the tangle, coming nearer and nearer. It was so faint, even at its loudest, that not once did it attract the attention of the three braves on guard. At times even Jack fancied that he must be mistaken, that it was nothing more than his excited imagination. But then the sound ceased; to his amazement he saw first one form and then another lift itself from the ground. That they were Indians was evident even in the dense shadow; but why they should approach in that silent fashion puzzled Jack extremely.

The three Creeks, all with their faces toward the captives, had their backs to the place where the mysterious night prowlers had appeared, and so they did not see them appear; neither did they see them advance.

Within a half dozen paces of the boys one of the newcomers raised his hand in a warning gesture for silence. There was a characteristic something in the gesture which Jack Davis immediately recognized.

“Running Elk!” was his mental exclamation.

Step by step the Cherokee hunter and his companion advanced. Within springing distance there was a pause; then with the silent bound of the panther, each leaped upon a Creek guard. Without a sound the unsuspecting braves fell under their blows; like lightning they were upon the other one before he fairly realized what had taken place, and with strong bronze fingers twisting about his throat he was borne to the earth.

The lads needed no words to tell them what to do. With a shake they were free of their bonds; a half dozen steps took them to where their horses were tied, the saddles still upon their backs. Near by, and perilously close to the sleeping form of the chief of whom Frank had spoken, were their rifles, powder horns and other equipment; noiselessly possessing themselves of these, they cut the ropes which held their horses and quietly led them toward the spot where Jack had seen Running Elk and his fellow hunter appear.

The third Creek had been quickly disposed of; and now the two Cherokees were free to turn their attention elsewhere.

“Horses, good!” muttered Running Elk in Jack’s ear. “Make ’um fast run—away.”

At the edge of the thicket the boys climbed into the saddle; the two hunters mounted behind them. Then with a word to the faithful nags, they rode unnoticed through the Creek camp. A signal whistle was heard from a sentinel at the outskirts. This was the sign that speed, not silence, was the necessary thing; so they dug their heels into their horses’ ribs and with a scattering flight of arrows dropping harmlessly about them, they dashed away into the forest.