"There is only one thing," came the reply, with compressed lips; "we must leave here, and go further west. I know father is thinking seriously about it. The last time that jolly trapper, Pat O'Mara, was here, father questioned him often about the stories he had heard Colonel Boone tell of that wonderful country beyond the mountains, and the beautiful Ohio River."
"I think I should like that," observed the impetuous Sandy, always eager to see new sights, and filled with the enthusiasm of a light-hearted boy. "If half they say about that country be true, it must be glorious. And the hunting and trapping we could do, Bob! Yes, I hope father decides to join fortunes with the first company of people passing through here."
Bob said no more. He knew that the little mother would be sorry to break many ties; but also that she would utter no word to dissuade her husband, when the time came. And perhaps the more thoughtful Bob could also foresee better than Sandy what new perils might await the daring pilgrims who ventured into the hunting-grounds of the warlike Shawanee Indians.
Presently he made Sandy lie down to snatch an hour's sleep, when he promised to awaken him so that he in turn might watch. This rule was carried out, and each of them had managed to secure quite a little sleep by the time the night was two-thirds passed.
It was Sandy's turn on guard. The fire was burning briskly, the storm seemed to be slackening up somewhat, and everything looked so promising that the boy grew a trifle careless. He allowed himself to doze beside the fire, his musket between his knees. This was, after all, hardly to be wondered at, as any one knows who, being desperately in need of sleep, tries to withstand the soothing heat of a warm blaze.
Perhaps Sandy may have been dreaming of boyish troubles with some of the young fellows of the town, once their warm friends, but just now commencing to ape their parents in turning the cold shoulder toward the Armstrong family.
Be that as it may, Sandy awoke with a start. He found the fire had gone down so that only now and then a tongue of flame shot upward from the log that had been burning so fiercely the last thing he remembered.
And, as some grinding sound caught his ear, he glanced up and discovered a half circle of gleaming yellow eyes watching him from over the top of the barricade!
"Bob! Wake up! The wolves!"
The shout rang out above the noise of the still whining wind. Aroused from a sound sleep by the startling cry, Bob struggled to a sitting position. Fortunately, he was a boy not easily rattled. The sight of those gleaming eyes told him what had happened, and it was perhaps more through instinct than anything else that he immediately pushed his musket forward and let fly at the nearest pair.
Sandy was not far behind, and the double report made a crash that seemed to produce a temporary panic among the gaunt callers. They hastily withdrew, though with many snarls and long-drawn howls.
Both boys were now on their feet, ready to swing their guns by the barrels if necessary, and use them as a further means of defence. Seeing that their enemies had beaten a temporary retreat, Bob sprang to the fire, and, kicking the partly burned log with his foot, stirred the flame into new life.
"Throw on some small wood, Sandy!" he called, as he bent over the barricade to ascertain whether their lead had been wasted, or found its mark.
"Did we get anything?" demanded the younger boy, understanding the object of Robert's survey, and being possessed of the frontier hunter's instinct, which looked upon the loss of a charge of powder and shot as next door to a sin.
"One is lying here, and from the snarling over yonder I take it they are tearing the wounded fellow to pieces," replied the older boy, as he proceeded to reload his musket.
"Well, I want that skin the worst way," ventured Sandy; "and if we leave the beggar outside the fort they will spoil it. So keep a watch while I climb over and drag the wolf inside."
"Be careful," warned Bob, who knew his brother's rash inclinations only too well. He stood ready, with both guns within reach, so that, if at any time Sandy seemed to be in peril, he could pour in a hot fire that must frighten the four-footed enemy away again.
But Sandy, himself, knew better than to take too much risk. No sooner had he seized hold of the dead animal than he started to move backward toward the logs that had been piled up to form a rampart.
"Hurry!" cried the voice of the one on guard. "They are coming with a rush, and from three quarters! Leave the hide to them, and save yourself, brother!"
But Sandy was an obstinate lad. He had made up his mind to possess the skin of the dead wolf, and did not want to relinquish it to the tender mercies of the pack.
Having dragged it close to the logs, he exerted himself to the utmost to give the weighty animal a toss that would accomplish his purpose. Nevertheless, but for the prompt assistance of Bob, who clutched the beast and dragged it over, Sandy must have failed in his endeavor.
"Quick! Climb up! They are here!" he heard shrilled in his ear.
In his hurry his foot slipped and he fell backward to the ground. Just above him there burst out a flash, and a heavy report instantly followed. Sandy knew what it meant, and that his faithful brother was firing at the advancing pack in order to stop their rush.
He struggled to his feet, and commenced once more to clamber up the rude fortification, at the same time shouting at the top of his voice. This was done with a purpose, for he understood full well that, like most cowardly animals, wolves greatly fear the voice of man.
Bob, too, was exerting himself to the utmost. Again came that tremendous crash, as the second musket was discharged close to Sandy's ear.
Then an eager hand laid hold of him, and he felt himself dragged over the topmost log!
Both boys were panting for breath, but, thrusting one gun into Sandy's hands, Bob started to hastily reload the other. They could hear their enemies not ten feet away, snarling and snapping terribly. It needed no explanation to tell Sandy what was going on out there in the snow; for he knew that wolves are cannibals if pressed with hunger.
"It was a pretty close shave, Bob!" he exclaimed, after he had rammed a bullet home in his gun, and fixed the priming in the pan.
"And a foolhardy act," returned the other, gravely. "If you had missed your footing a second time you would have been pulled down in spite of all I could do, and that would have been the end of us."
Sandy felt abashed. He knew perfectly well that he had been guilty of a reckless feat that might have cost both of them their lives; for without doubt Bob would have leaped over the barrier to his assistance, and shared his sad fate.
Perhaps thoughts of the dear ones at home, who would have mourned them so grievously, may have caused the boy to resolve upon a wiser course the next time he found himself tempted to take hazardous chances.
They stood on guard, and waited to see what their enemies would do when they had finished their meal.
"I hope they will go away, and leave us alone," said Sandy, uneasily.
"That would be almost too good to be true," remarked Bob, who knew more about the habits of animals than his brother. "Instead, I fear that the taste of food they have had will only make them more savage."
"Look! they are beginning to creep closer again!" exclaimed Sandy, a minute later, with a feeling of renewed uneasiness.
"Then we had better begin to shoot again, and make every bullet count. Let me start the ball rolling, boy," said Bob, as he picked out a dark form advancing slowly over the white snow.
Resting his musket across the upper log, he took a careful aim and fired. With the report a series of howls burst forth, and many forms were seen dashing this way and that. Some fled, only to come back again when they scented a new feast, and in another minute the wolf that had fallen before the gun of the young pioneer was affording his mates an additional scrap of dinner.
"Now, wait until I have reloaded, and then you do as well," remarked the calm Bob, who had learned many valuable lessons from older hunters; and he knew how dangerous it would be for them to be caught with empty guns, should their foes attempt to rush the shelter in a body.
Sandy, nothing loth, picked out his victim, and when his brother gave the word he pressed the trigger with more or less delight.
"That is one the less, I reckon," he remarked, as he quickly dropped the butt of the musket on the frozen ground, and commenced to handle his powder horn, to measure out sufficient of the precious black grains for another charge.
"But I fear that for every beast we drop two new ones come out of the woods," said Bob, believing that they should understand the worst, and not deceive themselves with false hopes.
Sandy was for keeping up the fusillade, but his wiser brother had already recognized the folly of wasting their scanty ammunition so hastily.
"How many more bullets have you in your pouch?" he asked, quietly.
"Just three," replied the other, his enthusiasm checked.
"And I have only four," Bob went on; "so you see at the most we can only account for seven of the beasts. After that it would be hand to hand. We must hold off as long as we can, reserving our ammunition for a desperate extremity."
"How long will it be before dawn comes?" asked Sandy, anxiously.
Of watches or clocks the pioneers had none; but most boys knew how to tell time from the stars, or from mere instinct; just as one accustomed to arousing at a certain hour realizes that the time has come, although all may be darkness about him.
Bob scanned the dull heavens through the branches of the trees. And as it happened there came a little break in the clouds just then, through which he caught a glimpse of the moon.
"I think that it will only be an hour now before daylight comes," he said with a sense of satisfaction in his voice; "and, besides, the storm is at an end, for there the moon shows through the clouds."
"But the wolves are creeping closer all the time," declared Sandy, as he looked over the barrier. "Just see, there must be an awful heap of the critters, Bob. Do you think they will try to climb over here?"
"It may be," replied the other, "but so long as we can wield our guns they shall not get a footing inside our fort. Shoot only as a last resort. And if the very worst comes—"
"Yes, what then, Bob?"
"Try to climb up to the topmost root above. Perhaps we might manage to hold out until daylight frightens them away. But here they come, Sandy!"
In another minute the two boys were striking at the heads of such daring animals as ventured to show above the top of the low rampart. The heavy muskets were fair weapons of offence for such work; though more than once Bob warned his impulsive brother to be careful, lest he strike a log and break his gun, which would be a serious catastrophe, indeed.
Their quarters were so confined that it was only with considerable difficulty they managed to strike fairly. But many a venturesome wolf was knocked back when those rising and falling muskets came in contact with his hairy head, and, amidst the savage howls that arose without the barricade, snarls of pain might have been distinguished.
At times the work slackened somewhat, allowing the panting boys a chance to catch their breath, but only to go at it again with renewed energy.
How the long minutes dragged by, with all this tremendous excitement stirring their blood to fever heat! Sandy cast many a despairing look up at the moon, now plainly seen in the clearing heavens, as though he fancied that it must be remaining stationary, and the night becoming interminable.
Would morning never come? Must they carry on this bitter struggle only to be overwhelmed by superior numbers in the end?
Three times now one of them had found it necessary to fire, when things seemed to have reached a state approaching desperation.
"Courage!" shouted Bob, as he brought his gunstock down on the head of a hungry wolf. "Look to the east, boy! The dawn has come at last!"
It was even so, and, thrilled with renewed hope, Sandy was enabled to keep up the good fight until by degrees the wolves began to sneak away, until finally the last of the savage horde had gone.
Would they ever forget that stirring night? Sandy believed nothing could exceed the excitement through which they had just passed; but, perhaps, if they migrated to that mysterious country beyond the great chain of mountains, there amid new scenes he might find an opportunity to change his mind.
Over the fire they cooked another meal of the fine venison which they had saved from the half-starved wolves.
"And now to head for home!" cried Sandy, as he took up the pack to show that he wished to do his share of the burden-carrying.
Forgotten were the aches of the night in the thought of once more rejoining those so dear to them about the family hearth, where the fire blazed in the wide-throated chimney, and the brass kettle bubbled on the hob.
They had been tramping for half an hour, steadily onward, when Bob called a halt, declaring that it was high time Sandy turned the bundle of meat over to him.
This the other was really not at all loth to do, for he had been staggering of late through the deep snow, as his burden began to tell on him. Still, not for worlds would the proud boy have confessed that he was actually tired.
Bob fashioned the hitch a little better, so that it would rest easier across his shoulder. He had just leaned forward, intending to give the bundle a sudden hoist, when he stopped in the act.
From some point not a great way off there came the sudden report of, not a musket with its heavy boom, but a hunter's clear-toned rifle.
And accompanying the sound they caught a loud voice raised in an excited shout, as though some one was striving against difficulties that threatened to overcome him.
"Some one is in trouble, Bob!" cried the younger Armstrong boy, as these sounds came floating to their ears.
"Yes, and a white man, too," said Bob, as he tossed the bundle of venison up into the crotch of a big oak tree close at hand. "We must see if we can help him."
Sandy was nothing loth. He knew full well that the unwritten law of the woods compelled every man to extend assistance when he met with one in need, and from the nature of the racket they could imagine that something quite out of the ordinary must be taking place.
The two lads set off on a run, eager to reach the spot as quickly as possible. True, they were rather short of ammunition just then, but so long as a single load remained to their guns they were ready to use it in behalf of any one in distress.
"Listen, brother," said Sandy, when they had covered some little distance; "surely we have heard that voice before."
"Yes," returned Bob, with a little laugh, "it is our old friend, Pat O'Mara, without a doubt; but what can he have stumbled into now? Pat is always looking for a 'ruction,' as he calls it, and generally finding what he wants."
"Perhaps the wolves, after leaving us, may have treed him," suggested Sandy, with something like a broad grin appearing on his freckled face.
But the other shook his head in the negative. He seldom jumped at conclusions as did Sandy, and usually weighed his words before speaking.
"Hardly that, boy," he observed; "we would have heard their howls before this. And besides, we have good reason to know that wolves are arrant cowards in the daytime."
"Well, let us run on again, for evidently Pat is in need of help. This may pay him back for dragging me out of that quicksand last summer, when I thought my last hour had arrived," and Sandy once more started on a trot in the direction of the spot whence the shouts arose.
Soon another sound mingled with the cries of the Irish trapper.
"It must be a bear!" said Sandy over his shoulder, as he ran.
Bob was of the same opinion, for the ferocious growls that came down the breeze could surely have been produced by no other among the woods creatures.
Then they burst through a thicket, and suddenly came in sight of a spectacle so remarkable that both boys stood still to gape and grin.
A rather stout man was sitting up in the wreck of an old tree, kicking furiously at a lean black bear, just below him, that was striking with his claws in the endeavor to fasten upon the legging of the other's foot.
While he thus kicked, the man in fringed buckskin was constantly talking, often giving vent to a shout of joy when his foot chanced to land against the head of his hairy enemy.
On the ground lay a rifle; but the bear did not seem to be seriously wounded in any way, which fact puzzled the boys not a little, because Pat O'Mara had the reputation of being a marvellous shot, and they remembered having heard the report of the gun a short time back.
When he saw the new arrivals, the trapper let out a cheer that told of solid satisfaction. And indeed, to tell the truth, his situation was anything but pleasant, and the end uncertain, with that wicked old bear determined to get him by fair means or foul.
"Haroo!" shouted the trapper, waving his coonskin cap vigorously above his red head; "sure yees are the byes to hilp me out av throuble, so ye be! Alriddy he scents me frinds, and is backin' down out av the three. Just take up alongside the fut av the same, and put a flea in his ear before he can turn to do yees any harrm. Haroo! Make a clane job av the same, remimber. An' wan at a time, av ye plaze!"
"You take him first, Sandy," said Bob, with his usual thoughtfulness, always willing that his brother should carry off the honors when there was a choice.
He stood alongside, and held his musket in readiness, so that in case the first leaden missile failed to finish old Bruin he might join in the affair.
The bear, while still angry, was evidently considerably concerned over the coming of reinforcements.
Sandy knew how to do the part of the business that had been entrusted to him.
"Stiddy, lad, stiddy!" warned the trapper, already following the bear down the tree. "Make a sure job av it now; and don't spile the pelt!"
Bang! went the heavy charge which was in Sandy's flint-lock musket. The bear immediately fell in a heap on the ground. Bob stood there, ready to add the finishing touch if absolutely necessary; but among hunters it is always understood that there shall be no interference at such times unless positively needed; and the game had been placed in Sandy's hands.
And in this case there was no need, for the bear, after making a desperate attempt to struggle to his feet, dropped, and lay still; whereupon Sandy and the good-natured Irish trapper united in a cheer that made the woods ring again and again.
"Afther all, it is Sandy's pelt, and it's glad I am he had the good sinse to sind his bullet back av the forelig instid av liftin' the baste's hid," declared the man who had been rescued from the tree.
"But how comes it that we found you in such a queer scrape, Pat?" asked Bob, with a twinkle in his eye; for he knew very well something must have gone amiss, or the usually clever woodsman would not have found himself in so sore a strait.
"Arrah! it's ashamed I am to till yees, me byes; but sure thot was a time Patsy found himself up the wrong tree," admitted the other, who was so good-natured that he could even laugh at a joke on himself.
"And not much of a tree at that, I should say," remarked Sandy dryly, as he surveyed the stump which had been the scene of the trapper's adventure. "Seems to me, Pat, that if I wanted to climb a tree, and fight it out with a bear, I would pick a bigger one than this rotten old thing."
"Oh! ye wud, eh? Phat if the bear was so clost till yer heels that ye had to shin up anything at all?" objected Pat, with a comical grin.
"Well, in that case no one could blame you," returned Bob. "Tell us how it came you failed to kill the beast when you fired."
"Sure, and ye are mistaken, Bob; niver a shot did I take at the ould beggar," said the other, positively.
The boys looked at each other.
"But surely we heard a shot," observed Sandy.
"Yis, but thot was the bear shootin', I give ye my word," the man in buckskin avowed.
"Do you mean to tell us that the bear fired your gun at you?" questioned Sandy, who knew the joking propensity of the jolly Irish trapper.
"Whirra! now, who said he fired at me? Afther chasing me up here the ugly ould baste took a notion to scratch at me gun down on the ground; and as by bad luck the hammer was back, bedad if he didn't manage somehow to pull the trigger. Sure, if ye look here, yees can see the hole the bullet made in the butt av the tree!"
At this frank declaration on the part of the trapper Sandy was unable to keep a straight face any longer, but broke out into a roar. Nor was Pat long in joining him, seeming to think it a fine joke.
"But afther all it was the bear that hild the small ind av the sthick," the hero of the adventure remarked as, with knife in hand, he started to remove the heavy skin of the victim. Sandy tramped back to secure the venison from the crotch in the oak, while Bob aided the trapper.
Pat was a roving blade. He loved the wide expanse of wilderness, and had made several long trips into the west, though as yet never as far as Colonel Boone and his party had gone. He had always been a good friend of the Armstrongs, and was particularly fond of the two brothers.
After about an hour's delay the boys, accompanied by O'Mara, made a start for the cabin in the clearing, each one well loaded with packages of meat. The bear had not been in very good condition, having hibernated all winter, and lived upon his fat; but still the experienced trapper knew just what portions to carry along, such as would afford good stews to the hungry Armstrongs.
It was just noon when they came in sight of the cabin. Of course it was the anxious mother who sighted the boys first, as she stood within the open doorway, shading her eyes with her hand so as to shut out the glare of the sun on the snow.
Soon the newcomers were sitting in front of the big blaze in the yawning fireplace, where a pot bubbled and gave out appetizing odors, telling the story of their adventures; while David, the look of concern gone for the time being from his face, undid the packages of supplies that had been secured.
Indeed it was a happy little party that sat around the plain deal table. What mattered it that the chairs were home-made, that Sandy even had to utilize a three-legged stool; that instead of boards the cabin had only a hard earthen floor; while there was an utter absence of anything beyond the absolute necessities of existence, as lived in those primitive times? (Note 4.)
Love dwelt there, and smoothed all the rough edges. Looking into the proud and apparently happy face of the little mother the two boys were pleased to think fortune had been so very kind, and allowed them to bring home such a goodly supply of meat; for the larder was almost bare.
Pat was always the life of any party. When he chose to exert himself things went on with a whirl, and there was much merriment. If Mr. Armstrong meant to ask his advice about the plans he was forming connected with their emigration to the new country beyond the horizon in the west, he held his peace just then, not wishing to arouse the boys as yet; for he knew Sandy's impetuous ways, and how the facts must soon become public property once he learned them.
The thing that worried David Armstrong most was his uncertainty as to where he could secure money enough to fit out for the long journey. They really needed at least two horses, upon which the bedding and extra clothing, as well as cooking utensils, could be loaded; for no one would think of carrying anything else over such an unknown road, hundreds of miles into the untrodden wilderness, where most of the travelling must be done over the winding buffalo trails.
However, he had a plan, thanks to a suggestion on the part of his thoughtful wife, and with the assistance of Pat O'Mara he fancied he could secure what he wished so earnestly, a loan from a man he had once befriended, and who was now well-to-do.
They had just finished their meal when Sandy discovered something through the little window near which he happened to be sitting.
"Why, would you believe it, mother, here comes sister Kate!" he exclaimed.
All of them made a start to leave the table; and then, influenced perhaps by some hidden fear, they turned to exchange glances. Could anything have happened that the girl was coming home at this unusual hour; for the cabin where she had been employed was half a mile away?
The door opened to admit a pretty little girl with flaxen curls, just now sadly awry; and the eye of Mrs. Armstrong saw instantly that Kate had certainly been indulging in a good cry, something she was seldom guilty of doing, being possessed of a sunny disposition very like her mother's, though perhaps she had also a dash of her father's peppery nature.
At sight of the family Kate was unable to restrain her feelings any longer, for again the tears began to flow down her rosy cheeks.
"Why, Kate, my child, what has happened? Why are you here, when your duty is at the Hodgkins?" asked Mrs. Armstrong, hastening to throw a reassuring arm around the shoulders of the slight figure that was shaking with emotion.
The girl looked up, the tears shining in her blue eyes. There was also a flash of temper to be seen there, and evidently Kate had been recently aroused to a point where she could stand things no longer.
"I am done with the Hodgkins," she cried, stamping her little foot on the clay floor; "I will never go back there again! I hate them, every one! Oh! it was so mean, so cowardly to say that!"
Mrs. Armstrong turned pale, and her husband said something under his breath, as they exchanged uneasy glances.
"Tell us, what did they dare say to you?" demanded Sandy, gritting his teeth.
"They mocked me, and said my father was a barn-burner!" sobbed the girl, bitterly.
"Say it again, child!" roared the head of the little family, as he jumped to his feet, his strong features working.
"David, be careful; let me mother the girl a bit, until she gets over her cry!" said Mrs. Armstrong; and as usual her soothing voice gained the mastery over the temper of the impulsive man.
Bob and Sandy exchanged looks. Already smarting under the injustice of many who had called themselves friends in times past, this new indignity aroused all the Scotch combativeness in their natures.
Instinctively they clenched their fists, and drew together, as though by mutual sympathy. The same thought had flashed into each mind—that something must be done to check this rising tide before it utterly overwhelmed the Armstrong family.
The mother saw that look, and in her heart understood. Proud she might be of the love that influenced her boys; still there was something higher than loyalty by which she must be governed, and this was duty.
She managed to draw the whole sad story from the girl, amid several little tear-storms. Then she soothed and quieted Kate, who in the shelter of that motherly breast found comfort and presently dried her tears.
The Irish trapper was a witness of this little excitement. He frowned, too, for his nature was impulsive, and he keenly sympathized with his friends. But at the same time more than once a ghost of a smile would chase across his jovial face. Evidently Pat O'Mara was thinking of the plans which he had been forming, and by means of which he hoped to influence the Armstrongs to leave this hateful community, where their worth was not appreciated.
A short time later Bob gave Sandy a sly dig in the ribs, and made a quick motion with his head. Apparently the younger brother understood what was meant, for soon afterwards, when he thought he was unobserved, he slipped out of the cabin.
Just as he expected, he found Bob awaiting him under the trees where bubbled up the spring which, winter and summer, supplied them with the clearest of water.
And Bob was evidently in a mighty serious frame of mind, even for him. His face looked gloomy and forbidding, while he continually gnawed his upper lip, after a fashion he had when deeply aroused.
Sandy recognized the signs. He had seen them on several occasions before. Once a settlement bully—for they had them in those early days just the same as now—was engaged in the, to him, delightful task of abusing a lad much smaller than himself, when the Armstrongs came upon the scene. The bully had a crony at hand, just as big as himself, and snapped his fingers at Bob when the other asked him to desist. Then it was that Sandy had seen his brother's face assume the same expression that it carried now.
Unable to stand the sight of such cowardly practices, Bob had attacked the fellow, and, spurred on by the righteousness of his cause, succeeded in giving him the beating he so richly deserved, while Sandy and the abused boy took care of the bully's friend.
There were other cases of a similar character, too, and Sandy would never forget a single one of them. To him his brother Bob was the embodiment of all that was noble in a boy.
"There is no other way, Sandy," said the older one, shaking his head, as though he had a disagreeable duty to perform, which could not be evaded.
"You are right," declared Sandy, hotly. "I know, and you know, who is to blame for those children saying such things. Did not we hear their father, Abner Hodgkins, say almost the same thing just three days ago, when we passed him at the door of the alehouse?"
"Yes," said Bob, between his teeth, "and how red he turned when he knew that we must have heard him. And he is the man our father once helped when he was sorely distressed! This insult can only be wiped out in one way."
"In only one way, brother," breathed Sandy.
"And since mother has brought father to her way of thinking, it falls on us to give Abner Hodgkins his lesson," went on Bob, his eyes taking on a steely glitter at thought of the many ill turns that had of late been showered on their heads.
"But we must not let mother know," ventured the younger brother.
"Surely not. Mother would never consent. In her eyes only the last necessity excuses fighting. After it is all over she will forgive us," said Bob, his voice unconsciously becoming very tender.
"Perhaps they will have some care how they let their wicked tongues wag after they hear what has happened to one tattler," went on Sandy.
"Then you are with me?" asked the elder brother, eagerly.
"The sooner the better!" cried Sandy, impulsive as usual; "let us go now, and strike while the iron is hot!"
"Agreed. For Kate said he had arrived home just as she left, for he called out after her to know where she was going. I am ready, Sandy!"
The fact that the man under discussion was one of the most muscular in all that border community did not seem to worry the two boys at all, for they were fairly burning with a desire to avenge the constant insults cast upon their loved ones.
Grasping the arm of Sandy, Bob turned around to hurry away ere any one could see them, and, guessing their mission, bring it to a halt. Then he caught his breath, and his pale face took on the color of confusion. For he found himself confronted by his mother, the very last person in all the world whom he would have wished to see under such conditions.
While listening to Kate's pitiful story she had observed the signal that passed between them. Understanding her boys, she knew what thoughts must be passing through their heated brains. And when they slipped away, unobserved as they believed, that fond heart had lost no time in following.
"I hope, my sons," she said sweetly, as she placed a hand on an arm of each, "that you are not thinking of doing aught that would only add to our troubles. Heaven knows that we have enough to bear now. Two wrongs, you know, never yet made a right. We must bear our cross, knowing that in good season this bitter cloud will pass away. Promise me that you will neither of you seek Abner Hodgkins, nor have one word to say to him should you meet!"
The two confused boys looked at each other rather whimsically. They knew they could refuse their mother nothing. And perhaps, too, at that moment they realized the utter folly of the course they had mapped out.
So they promised, and, with an arm about the waist of each, she accompanied them back to the cabin.
The balance of that day passed slowly. Every one was uneasy save possibly Pat O'Mara, whose jolly disposition could never be cast down. And that evening, after supper, as they gathered around the blazing fire, he exerted himself as never before to sway the minds of these good friends.
The boys sat there on the bench that stood against the wall, and listened with wide-open ears when by degrees the trapper came around to the entrancing subject of that magical country whose beauties he seemed never to tire of telling. David Armstrong and his wife harkened also, but said little, leaving it to Bob and his brother to ask questions.
It was a cozy picture. The flames darted up the wide-throated chimney and took the place of the customary candle in lighting the room, glancing from the walls, where the chinks between the roughly hewn logs had been filled with hardened clay, and then whitewashed.
Herbs hung from the rafters overhead. High up alongside the chimney several packages of the dried venison Sandy disliked so much had their places. The shiny brass kettle, an heirloom in the family, stood upon the hob near the flames, and occasionally sang a low accompaniment to the trapper's enticing tales.
Would the new country offer them as comfortable a home as this? After all, so long as the mother were spared, it must ever be her deft hand that made home what it was; and no matter whether here in Virginia, or far off on the banks of the storied Ohio, it would be the same.
"But how about the Indians, Pat?" asked Sandy finally. "You have told us little of the red men. Are they disposed to be friendly; or would we have to fight whenever we ran across them?"
"That is the only darrk spot to the picture, me byes," returned the trapper, with a sigh. "Sorry am I to say the same, but the rid divels are all for makin' throuble. But 'tis numbers that may hould thim in check. Troth, if enough whites iver r'ach the shore of that enchantin' river, they kin bid the Injuns defiance. In union there is strength, ye know, Sandy, bye. 'Tis thim same rid divils that gives me pain in me hearrt."
To the boys, however, this was not so serious a drawback. In common with most young fellows of the day they had a contempt for the valor of the native sons of the forest. It was not so with the gentle mother; and her eyes involuntarily sought those of her husband, while she shivered at the thought of the loneliness that must encompass pilgrims who emigrated beyond the mountain chain, losing themselves in the untracked wilderness.
But David was himself rapidly coming around. It is human nature not to compare the ills we know not of with those visible ones by which we find ourselves confronted on every hand.
And when Mary saw the way in which his face was set, she knew, just as well as if he had spoken, that the die was cast. They would go into the wilderness, and hew out a new home somewhere. The sturdy spirit of the early pioneers had been fully awakened, and the call of the west could no longer be ignored. Destiny was pushing them on.
During the following two days peace reigned around the humble home of the Armstrongs; but this was partly because no one went into the town again save the father, who came home on the second afternoon leading two horses, at sight of which the boys could hardly repress their shouts of satisfaction.
This told them that the die was indeed cast, for little need they would have of horses, save as beasts of burden in case of migration. Wagons could not be used, so O'Mara had declared, because much of the long journey must be accomplished along those winding buffalo trails that traversed the forest, for of roads there were absolutely none.
It was at this time there arose a necessity for some supplies, and the brothers were told to go into town to obtain the same. Apparently David had succeeded in securing the funds he so badly needed, showing that one staunch friend must have stood by him.
The mother looked wistfully after her boys when they hurried away, filled with new enthusiasm because of the nearness of the time when they would depart from the scene of all their woes.
"I do hope they will restrain themselves, and not get into any trouble," she said to her husband, who was busily engaged with the horses, a new feature in their experience, and one that gave them much concern.
David smiled back, for it seemed to be his turn to comfort.
"Have no fear of the lads, wife," he said heartily. "They are good boys, and true, of whom we can well be proud. Sandy is o'er impulsive, it is true; but Robert possesses the balance. We have need to be thankful to Providence that we possess two such sons when about to start upon such a hazardous journey as this."
An hour or so later Pat O'Mara saw the brothers returning. They carried several packages, which constituted their purchases of necessities, simple though these were. But the sharp eyes of the trapper saw something more which they were carrying. Several scratches marked their faces, and Sandy's left optic seemed to be in a degree of mourning, all of which told the astute Irish trapper that there must have been a fracas of some sort. He knew well those signs; and it was with difficulty he managed to conceal the grin that forced itself upon his genial face.
Of course there could be no concealing these evident marks of battle. Nor did the boys attempt to do so.
"You have been in trouble, son," said the mother, as she took the package from Sandy, and looked upon the cuts and scratches on his cheek.
It was Bob of course who showed signs of contrition; Sandy, on the other hand, threw his head back, as though proud of his scars. To him every one stood for an honor mark.
"I could not help it, mother dear," he said. "They taunted me, three of them, and began to strike me. Then Bob came, and it was better, though still uneven. But we were furious, and would not give in; would we, Bob?"
"Who could have been so cowardly and cruel?" asked Mary, as she hurried to get warm water in a basin, so that the wounds might be properly bathed, and some homemade liniment put upon them.
"Who but that same bully, Armand Whalen," Sandy went on, eagerly. "Once before, Bob whipped him until he cried for mercy, and he has never forgiven us. But never mind, mother; we gave the cowards all they deserved. They look much worse than we do; and besides, they ran away in the end. These little cuts are nothing to us. Surely we have had others many times worse."
"Indeed, I am sorry to have displeased you, mother," said Bob; "but they were all picking on Sandy, and my blood fairly boiled. Had there been twice as many it could have made no difference. At any rate, they will often think of us when we are gone, which is a satisfaction."
At which naive remark the mother found herself compelled to smile. She could not be provoked with the boys. And besides, she knew very well what affronts they had continually suffered.
Again she found her eyes drawn irresistibly toward those of her husband. Upon his face was a set look, as though his mind had been made up now beyond recall.
"It is the last straw," he said, bitterly; "and the end cannot come any too soon now to please me. I shall be glad when we have wiped the dirt of this place from our shoes. Boys, you did what any manly lad would find himself compelled to do. I am not blaming you one bit. But after this you must remain at home."
"But father, there is news," said Bob, as he suddenly remembered.
"They are coming here then, those brave souls from Carolina, who head toward the setting sun?" asked David, showing the eagerness that possessed his soul.
"Yes," returned the boy; "a messenger has arrived in town from the head man in charge of the expedition, warning all who mean to accompany them that they will arrive in three days, and only stop twenty-four hours. This is the last settlement. When they leave here, it will be to enter the wilderness."
"Glory be!" exclaimed the trapper, upon hearing this. "Then we will soon be on our way, with all our troubles behind."
The good wife sighed. She did not anticipate such glorious things as beckoned the others on. Perhaps she had forebodings in her gentle heart that the new perils all pioneers must face might prove even more formidable than those they were leaving behind; and that perchance one of her loved ones might find an early grave in that new land, a victim to the treachery of the red men.
But not for worlds would she utter one discouraging word. There seemed no other course open to them; and the women of that day were every one of them heroines, capable of enduring untold suffering in the search of a place they could call home.
Two days afterwards, as promised, the emigrants made their appearance. David had gone out to meet them on one of the horses.
"Fetch them here to camp beside our spring," his wife had told him; "for we may be the only family meaning to join our fortunes with theirs."
And sure enough, they camped near the cabin in the clearing, a round three dozen in all, including some five more or less sturdy boys with whom Bob and Sandy fraternized at once.
Then began a period of bustle, as the last preparations were undertaken by the Armstrongs. Some of their things they gave in charge of the one faithful neighbor who had remained true to them through good and evil report. Perhaps at some day an opportunity might arise whereby these precious, if bulky, heirlooms in the way of furniture could be brought out to their new home. Just now such a thing was not to be considered for a moment.
And then the last morning broke.
The brothers were brimming over with excitement, nor did they feel any particular pain over quitting the place they had for so long called home. It had ceased to have attraction for them since this shadow had fallen; and they believed they would be happy to leave it forever.
David Armstrong, too, managed to conceal what feeling he may have had. But with the little mother it was different. That humble log cabin meant much to her, for inside those stout walls she had spent several fairly happy years; but she put these sad thoughts away with a resolute hand whenever David was near. They would do to dream over when utterly alone, perhaps in the dark watches of the night, in a new country, and amid strangers.
All was bustle and confusion. A few of the town people had come out to see the start of the expedition, and many were the remarks that were made concerning the possibilities that awaited the daring travellers.
In this hour of parting some of the neighbors, possibly overcome by contrition, tried to make amends for their recent cruel conduct, but David ignored all signs of friendly handshakes, and would have none of them. The iron had eaten too deeply into his soul.
The pack train of horses looked quite formidable when lined up for the start.
"Twelve of them in all!" Sandy sang out, as he stood ready to urge his animal on when the leader gave the order to start.
A hardy gathering of valiant souls the emigrants looked just then. Fortune beckoned to them, and all seemed delightful. If they could only have looked ahead a few months, and seen the terrible dangers that lay in wait, doubtless many a smile would have faded from the faces that now looked so cheerful.
"Hurrah!" shouted the boys, when finally the word passed along the line, and those in the lead began to move.
But there were no cheers. Those grave-faced men realized only too well that in thus putting their fortunes to the touch, by venturing into that unknown world of which so much had been told, they were carrying not only their own lives, but also those dear to them, in the hollow of their hands.
The caravan moved away amid the sound of many voices, as the boys urged their pack steeds along. Never once did Sandy glance back toward the home he was leaving; he seemed given up entirely to the witchery of the adventure.
But one pair of eyes turned for a last wistful look at the familiar log cabin, with the grand old oak hovering above its humble roof, that had sheltered her little brood so faithfully these years. And then a turn in the trail shut out the view. Mary Armstrong heaved a sigh, and then resolutely strove to think only of what might be in store for them in the new world to which they were journeying.
"Did you see that, Bob?"
Sandy clutched his brother by the arm as he whispered these words, and both of them sank back lower behind the fringe of bushes.
Some weeks had gone by since they had left the old home. By slow degrees the mountains had been surmounted, and they were now nearing the region of the Ohio, on the banks of which the settlers hoped to find homes.
There were eleven men in the party, with seven women, and a round dozen children of varying ages.
Day by day the party of settlers had plodded onward, with their faces ever toward the west. Often they saw the prowling panther near the camp; and it was a common thing to have a deer or a buffalo spring up in advance of the caravan, to go bounding or lumbering away, startled by this first glimpse of white men.
As there was no road it had been utterly impossible to make use of such clumsy vehicles as the early settlers knew. Upon the backs of the horses was piled all their possessions; and besides, frequently the women and children had to be added to the loads.
The settlers considered themselves fortunate in having with them a man who had gone over this trail before. Pat O'Mara kept at the head of the column throughout each long day.
Many times they had to make detours in order to overcome obstacles in the way that could not be directly overcome. Sometimes these took the form of deep ravines, the banks of which were too steep to allow the horses to obtain a foothold; then again they might be windfalls, where the grand forest trees had been razed, along a track half a mile broad, by some fierce tornado.
When night drew near O'Mara selected some favorable place for a camp which offered opportunities for defence. For they never allowed themselves to fall into a state of security that might induce fatal carelessness.
Some days the settlers made fair progress under favoring conditions; then again they would strike a section of country where every mile had to be won, with patient effort, foot by foot. And they were always vigilant, believing in that motto of the Puritans: "Trust in the Lord; but keep your powder dry!"
Each night, as the cheerful fires crackled, and the women gathered around to prepare the evening meal, the tired men would bring in wood for use while the darkness lasted; and then throw together some sort of defence.
While as yet these preparations had been apparently needless, still the cautious O'Mara warned them that they were now nearing the hunting grounds of the warlike Shawanees; and that any day some party might discover the caravan, and carry the news of their coming to the nearest Indian village.
As yet they had really seen little of the red men. Twice hunters, who were out securing fresh food for the party, had reported catching glimpses of dusky figures darting in and out among the trees; but no attack had as yet been made upon any members of the little expedition.
Bob and his brother were in the habit of going out on alternate days, and looking for game. As this was plentiful they had little trouble in securing a deer whenever the larder got low.
One day they had tramped ahead of the party, following the old buffalo trail which the horses would take as they came along and which led westward. In this way, if they secured game, it would not be necessary to carry it far in order to join the others.
As yet they had seen nothing worth shooting, when Sandy made the remark with which this chapter begins.
His brother stared in his face, and there was a serious look in his eyes, as he made answer.
"Yes, I saw it; and I'm afraid it was an Indian, brother."
"With feathers in his scalp-lock, which means war!" continued Sandy, who was always questioning Pat O'Mara, and hence had picked up considerable knowledge concerning the red men and their habits.
Again did the two boys exchange uneasy looks.
"Do you suppose he is alone?" whispered Sandy, presently.
"Let us try to see. Raise your head, inch by inch, until you can look over the tops of these bushes; but be careful," continued the other.
Back to back they started to do this, intending to cover the entire surrounding woods with a close scrutiny.
Suddenly there was an odd twanging sound heard. Bob knew instinctively that it was the recoil of a bow-string, and he dragged his brother down instantly.
Then came a heavy thud close by their ears. Looking around, the brothers saw a feathered shaft quivering, with its flint head buried in the trunk of a tree.
It was the first time in all their lives that either of them had been under fire. The mere thought that some human being was endeavoring to do them deadly injury caused a momentary thrill. But, in those early days, boys were made of sterling material; and, after that involuntary shudder, they faced the danger resolutely, with a spirit that would have well become their father.
"We must get out of here," whispered Bob, as he prepared to crawl along in the shelter of the bushes.
"But which way?" demanded Sandy, confused; for how were they to know just where the unseen enemy might be hidden?
"That arrow came from yonder; therefore we must turn the other way," was the convincing argument Bob advanced, and his brother immediately saw the logic of it.
Bob led the retreat, with Sandy trailing close at his heels. Each lad clutched his gun in a nervous grip, and strained his ears to catch the slightest suspicious sound near by.
So they crept on, for ten minutes, without anything happening, and by degrees Sandy felt his courage return. Perhaps, after all, there had only been a single savage; and, again, he may have been as frightened as they were, making off immediately after discharging that lone arrow!
Their hearts still beating faster than was their wont, the boys came to the termination of the line of dense bushes. If they expected to go on from this point they must of necessity change their tactics entirely, and expose themselves to the gaze of any lurker.
"Let's run for it!" suggested Sandy, at a loss for any other plan.
"No, I have another idea," returned his resourceful brother.
"Then let us have it, quick, Bob!" whispered the other, to whom inaction was always more or less irksome.
"You start off as though meaning to escape, dodging this way and that. He will perhaps believe that I was cut down by that hissing arrow. Then, if he shows himself, I can get him, perhaps," Bob ventured.
Sandy fell in with the idea at once, although he realized the danger.
"Give the word, then, Bob, and let me go. Anything is better than this suspense," he said, immediately, starting to get on his feet.
"If you hear me shout, drop flat," the elder brother said, impressively. "That will mean he is trying to shoot at you. And if you hear the report of my gun, seek shelter behind some tree."
The last thing Sandy heard as he gained a half-erect position, and started off on a lope, was the click of Bob's gun-lock as he prepared for business. No doubt the boy's heart was pounding like a hammer as he thus exposed himself to the aim of an enemy; but, nothing daunted, he kept right on, looking to the right and to the left as he scurried along.
And Bob, left behind amid the bushes, lifted his head slowly, so that he could see all that transpired, a grim expression on his young face, such as the stern realities of those early days stamped upon many a boyish countenance.
Ha! There was a movement not far away that his keen ear caught. Not turning his head a particle he twisted his eyes around to the left, and immediately discovered a bent figure that was skulking along, now dodging behind a tree, and anon crouching flat, as Sandy threatened to look around.
It was an Indian, rigged out in all the horrid paint and feathers that marked a Shawanee brave on the warpath. He gripped a short, but stout, bow in his hands; and even as Bob caught sight of him seemed to be fitting a feathered shaft to the tense gut that served as a cord.
Undoubtedly it was his intention to shoot again, and this time, as Sandy's back would be turned, there was a strong probability that the arrow might find a victim.
Bob looked no further; his mind was made up, and, raising his flint-lock musket to his shoulder, he glanced hastily along the barrel.
The red man was in the very act of letting fly his arrow when the bang of the heavily charged musket awoke the echoes of the forest. Sandy had not forgotten his part in the programme, for no sooner did he hear that discharge than he made a quick spring to a neighboring beech tree, back of which he crouched, ready to do his part in the game.
The Indian fell down, but, immediately scrambling to his feet with a whoop, ran off like a frightened deer. He was holding his right arm as he went, from which fact Bob gained the opinion that his hastily sent bullet must have struck that part of the enemy's anatomy.
Then he vanished in the depths of the forest, while Bob reloaded as fast as he could work his hands.
"Are there any more of them?" called Sandy, as he poked his gun out from behind the beech, ready to make use of the same at the slightest provocation.
"I do not think so," replied Bob, considerably relieved at not discovering a horde of dusky figures rushing toward them, as he had feared would be the case.
Nor did they notice any signs of enemies around them. Sandy insisted upon going over to the spot where the Indian had dropped his bow and arrow, at the time he received Bob's bullet in his arm.
"Some of them might refuse to believe that we had met a real Indian, and got the better of him," he said, after picking up his trophies; "but these will be the proof."
"Let us go on," observed Bob, who had now finished the labor of recharging his gun.
"Then you do not mean to give up looking for game?" asked Sandy, eagerly.
"Why should we?" observed his brother, sturdily. "That Indian has run off, and we need fear nothing further from him. Perhaps there is no other within miles of this spot, and we need fresh meat very much. If my shot has not frightened everything away, we may get a chance at a deer yet."
"Perhaps a buffalo!" remarked Sandy, with eagerness in his voice; for as yet no one in the company had been successful in shooting a specimen of those huge, shaggy monsters, about which they had heard so much, and whose beaten trails they followed so persistently in making their way.
They kept on, Bob careful all the while to observe the direction they took, for he did not wish to get lost. He was moving up against the wind, so that even the most suspicious game might not scent their presence.
"Look! What is that?" whispered Sandy, as they made their way through a screen of bushes, and some bulky object was observed trotting along ahead.
"A buffalo at last! Get ready, and we will fire together!" said Bob, trying to stifle his excitement as he dropped on one knee, the better to aim his gun.
"Ready? Shoot!"
The two reports sounded almost as one.
"He went down! Oh! we got him!" shrilled the sanguine one, ready to rush forward.
"Hold on!" Bob quickly cried; "see, you're mistaken, for he has scrambled to his feet. Wounded as he is, if he sees us there will be trouble. There, he is heading this way, Sandy! Jump for a tree, lad, jump for a tree!"