Sandy jumped according to orders. With that furious-looking beast coming on the trot, with lowered, massive head, and uttering savage bellows as he advanced, no boy would have hesitated in seeking safety.
Bob swung himself into the lower branches of the tree under which he chanced to be at the time the attack came. On the other hand, Sandy did not understand it in that light. He expected to use the trunk of a beech as a shield, behind which he might find shelter from the bison bull.
Apparently the animal had only sighted Sandy, since he made direct for the tree back of which the boy crouched.
"Look out for him, Sandy!" shouted the occupant of the tree, as he kicked his moccasined feet, and in other ways tried to attract to himself the attention of the infuriated beast.
In this he did not seem to be successful, for the charging bull kept straight on, and came up against the trunk of Sandy's refuge with a thump that staggered him not a little.
"You see what you get!" called the boy, tauntingly, hovering behind the tree, and ready to glide around it at the first sign of pursuit.
"Take care, he's going to chase after you! Keep close to the tree, and be sure you don't slip!" called Bob; who, his hands trembling with excitement, was trying to get a charge of powder into the barrel of his musket, no easy task while he sat perched on a limb.
Meanwhile there was a scene of action close by. Sandy showed a clean pair of heels to the enemy, slipping adroitly around the beech as fast as the buffalo could chase after him. If he kept his footing all would be well; but, should he ever trip on one of the roots that cropped out of the ground, perhaps the ugly horns of the beast would gore him before he could roll out of reach.
So, while he continued to load his gun, Bob kept up a succession of outcries, intended to encourage his brother, and at the same time disconcert the stubborn bison.
"Keep moving, Sandy! Don't let him get a swipe at you, boy! Oh! I came near dropping that bullet then. Will I ever get this gun loaded? Be careful, lad! That time you were nearly down. He is tiring, Sandy; but unless I make haste something dreadful may happen. I must finish this job. Look out again, he's meaning to turn on you suddenly. There! just what I feared; but you were too quick for him!"
By this time the boy who was spinning around the tree so rapidly had begun to realize that it was not so much fun, after all, this being pursued by a monster with wicked horns, and the power of a tornado in his thick-set neck. At times he could almost feel the hot breath of the animal upon his neck, which showed how very close the buffalo must be. Had Sandy chanced to be alone his condition must have been doubly desperate. As it was, his only hope seemed to lie in the ability of his brother to get his gun loaded in time to put an end to the crazy bison.
"Keep it up just ten seconds longer, Sandy, and I'll be ready! The priming, boy, that's all! Now look out, here goes!"
As Bob said this he discharged his musket, after securing a fair aim, as the animal's flank came around in full view.
"Hurrah! he's down again!" gasped poor Sandy with almost his last breath, for he seemed on the verge of exhaustion from the whirl around that tree.
"Climb up out of reach, quick!" shouted Bob, jumping down so as to attract the attention of the bull toward himself should the animal manage to stagger to his legs again, for he saw his brother was exhausted and would now prove an easy victim.
But Sandy was on the ground, and he saw something that his brother did not. The last bullet had reached a vital spot, and already the big animal was quivering in the last expiring throes.
"Get your gun, and load up as fast as you can!" said Bob, himself suiting the action to the word.
"But see, he is dead!" expostulated the other, pointing to the buffalo, which by now had ceased to struggle and lay quite still.
"Never mind. Load the gun as fast as you can!" repeated Bob. "A hunter with an empty shooting-iron is an easy mark for every prowling redskin. Surely Pat has said that to us many times. And we now know there are Indians around here."
Thus urged, the younger boy hastened to comply.
"Just to think," he could not help saying, when this important business had been attended to, and both of the guns were placed in shape for further service, "we've actually brought down a big buffalo. And it is the first one shot by any of our party. But all the honor is yours, Bob. If it had been left to me perhaps the old sinner might have got me. I was getting blown to a certainty."
"But we can share the honor, Sandy; for if you had not kept running round and round as you did, how else could I have shot him?"
That was Bob's generous way, and Sandy knew it would be utterly useless trying to escape taking half the credit.
"You watch while I use the knife and take off the skin," Bob went on; for he knew that the hide, if properly cured, would make a valuable robe, to insure warmth when the winter snows came again. "And watch out for Indians," he added suggestively.
These boys had served their apprenticeship at trapping animals, and there was little in the science of removing and preserving pelts that they did not know. So now, while Bob had never before seen a dead buffalo, and only had a glimpse of a live one close at hand, he knew just how to go to work.
"Plenty of good meat here for the whole camp," remarked Sandy, with kindling eyes, as he saw the large buffalo hams exposed by the removal of the hide.
"Yes, and they say it is fine. If it can beat that bear we shot early last winter, before all its fat was gone, I'll be glad we ran across him," Bob remarked, as he now prepared to cut the carcass up, so that the best portions might be reserved.
"I wonder when the folks will be along?" said the younger lad, allowing his gaze to travel between the thick trees in that quarter where it might be expected the pack-horses would sooner or later appear.
"Listen!" remarked Bob just then, raising his head, "I thought I heard a shout far away."
Sandy began to look anxious.
"Oh! I hope nothing has gone wrong," he observed.
"Nonsense!" expostulated the other, "what could have happened? Just because we saw an Indian, and he tried to put an arrow in one of us, is no sign of danger to the camp. The only thing that bothers me is that perhaps they have halted far back there for the night. In that event, see where we would have to carry all this meat."
"We might hang it up out of reach of wolves, and bring some of the men, with a horse, to tote it in," suggested Sandy.
"That is so, and a clever idea, too. Wait and see. Perhaps they may come on, and pass near us here," Bob remarked, "for we are close to the trail, which I am sure lies over by that leaning sycamore tree."
So they sat down to wait and listen for more signs.
"This certainly beats our woods back in Virginia," remarked Bob, as he looked around at the great primeval forest that surrounded them, the trees of tremendous girth and beginning to show a new crop of bright green leaves.
"Yes," responded his brother, reflectively, "it is indeed a wonderful country, and, from the signs, just overflowing with game. There was that salt-lick we ran across two days ago; why, from the marks, thousands of deer and buffalo must visit it every year. That very night we shot three fine stags and a doe, you remember."
"Yes, and I was sorry we killed that last one, for she had a little, spotted fawn running at her heels, and of course it will die, being left uncared for."
Bob was a true sportsman. He loved to hunt game, but something within always prevented him from killing more than he could use. And that is ever the mark of one who truly loves Nature. Believing that these good things are provided by an all-wise Creator for the enjoyment of man, they look on it as a sin to waste any such bounties.
"There, that was a shout, and close by, too. I think it must have been Darby calling to that lazy beast of his, which wants to lie down in every little stream we have to ford. Yes, there he breaks out again," said Sandy.
"And from the row that is going on, and the laughing, I fear the beast has done what he's been threatening to do this long while, and rolled over in a brook. But I can see them now, over yonder," said Bob, pointing.
Presently the straggling line of pack-horses came along. When the head man saw what a fine supply of meat the two young Nimrods had awaiting them, he gave the word to pitch camp.
"The afternoon is going, and we could hardly find a better spot than right here," he observed; at which there was a bustle all around, for camp always meant a period of ease and rest from the weary tramping over rough ground.
"But what is that you are carrying, Sandy?" demanded David Armstrong, as he came along with his two horses, his wife and Kate tramping at their side with the steadiness of squaws, for they had become accustomed to such vigorous and healthy labor.
"An Indian's bow and arrow which we picked up after Bob shot and wounded the owner, who was trying to get me," the boy quickly replied.
At the word "Indian" others came to stare at the weapon with curiosity, not unmixed with alarm, for they knew only too well that now they had burned their bridges behind them, for there could be no going back, and every day carried them further and further into the debatable country of the Shawanees, which later on would be known as the "dark and bloody ground."
"It looks as if Pat expected trouble to-night, Bob."
"Well, the men have been holding a council, and father says it is best to be on the safe side; so the guard after this will be doubled."
The two brothers were sitting on the outskirts of the camp. It did not look like the cheerful spectacle that up to now had marked every stopping place on the journey.
A fire had been made late in the afternoon, and all the cooking done before it grew dark; then the blaze was allowed to die out. This had been done through the advice of the Irish trapper, who knew that the eyes of Indians are especially keen, and that, when darkness came, they could see a light like a camp-fire a long distance off. Even this precaution might not prevent their being attacked before dawn; but it was reducing the chances to a minimum.
From where the brothers sat they could just make out the camp, with the horses quietly feeding, and the rude shelters erected to protect the women and children from the damp night air. The more hardy men, when not on duty, were accustomed to dropping down anywhere, and going to sleep.
On one side several fallen trees had been formed into a rude sort of rampart, behind which, in a pinch, the members of the expedition might find shelter from plunging arrows, should the worst come.
All these preparations were just what they had been expecting must come sooner or later. Nevertheless, they naturally gave the boys considerable uneasiness, not so much on account of themselves, as because of those loved ones, their mother and Kate.
"There are several scouts out, too, to discover the approach of any hostiles, and bring warning," remarked Bob.
"Oh! I hope nothing happens," said Sandy, with a sigh; for, now that they were face to face with the long-anticipated trouble, somehow things looked different from when he surveyed them before leaving that Virginia home in the valley of the Shenandoah.
"Pat says these redskins are not accustomed to the sound of firearms," the older boy continued. "Few among them have guns; and those have been sold to them by the treacherous French traders, who are always setting the Indians on the English."
"Just because they want to have a line of trading posts stretching between their possessions up in Canada, and down in Louisiana," remarked Sandy, bitterly; for this was a subject that all the colonists felt deeply; because the French traders lost no opportunity for causing ill blood between the Iroquois, Shawanees, Delawares, Sacs and Pottawatomies on the one side, and the English on the other.
"Yes," replied Bob, "that is supposed to be the reason. Then, again, these Indian tribes see the end of their hunting grounds if the palefaces keep coming across the mountains year by year, and they will fight. Sooner or later we must encounter them. Father knew it; yes, and that is why mother has that sad look in her eyes."
No longer did the boys belonging to the camp venture upon any of their sports and games while the expedition rested for the night. On other occasions they had wrestled, run races afoot, and engaged in various small rivalries, though there had been no shooting at a mark, since ammunition was far too valuable to be thus wasted.
To-night they hung around, listening to the subdued talk, and imbued with some of the same spirit that cause the women to huddle together around their little ones and speak in hushed voices.
A silence seemed to be upon the very forest itself, though at this early period in the spring there were usually few birds moving, and animated nature had not as yet wholly issued forth after the winter hibernation, so that this in itself was not so strange.
"Shall we go in and try to sleep?" asked Sandy, after two hours had passed with no alarm being given.
"You might," returned Bob; "but I mean to stay up as long as I can."
"But, you know, Pat was telling us that these red men of the west usually attack just before dawn, when sleep hangs heaviest and the darkness is strongest!" remarked Sandy, shrewdly.
"All very true," Bob hastened to say; "but this once they may see fit to change their tactics. Besides, I do not feel at all sleepy. You go in and lie down; but keep your gun close beside you, and remember what the orders are in case of an alarm."
"I have not forgotten. Every man has his position; and, as we can handle a gun, we count for the same. But, if you expect to stay right here, why should I not lie down and sleep under this tree, as well as in there?"
Bob being unable to advance any plausible reason why this would not answer, the younger boy curled himself up in a knot right there on the bare ground, and inside of five minutes his regular breathing announced that he was asleep.
Sitting there, Bob allowed his thoughts to wander far afield, and of course, in spite of himself, they went back to the home of his childhood, to that familiar old cabin under the wide-spreading oak.
But he had no regrets. The bitterness caused by the unkind conduct of those one-time friends and neighbors still swayed him; and he was glad at the thought of being gone forever from such unhappy surroundings.
What was that? He certainly had heard a sound like some one running; and, even as he started up to listen, a figure brushed past, and went on into the camp!
Bob's heart began to beat more rapidly. He knew that this must be one of the scouts. What news did he bring? Were the Indians about to descend upon them?
"Wake up, Sandy!" he said, as he laid a hand on the sleeping boy.
The other sat up, rubbing his eyes as though hardly understanding where he was; but suddenly he seemed to comprehend.
"What is it, Bob?" he asked, eagerly, "are they coming; and must we fight in the dark?"
"I do not exactly know," returned the other; "only, some one hurried by us, and I think he brings news. Yes, see, the men are quietly rising up all around. The signal must have been given. Come, let us get back into camp before we are cut off by the enemy."
The two boys soon joined the rest, when they learned that the scout had indeed brought startling news. The Indians were coming in force, and advancing secretly to try to take the settlers by surprise. At any minute they might spring up and send a cloud of missiles into the camp.
All preparations as yet undone must now be hurriedly looked after. The women and children were placed behind the shelter of the log rampart. Each, man took the position that had been marked out for him; then, with bated breath, they waited for what was coming.
None would ever forget that night! It was their first real experience with the wily and treacherous red foe, with whom they were fated in after years to become so familiar, and to hate so cordially.
Pat O'Mara was perhaps the only one among them fully acquainted with the tricky ways of the redskins; and he had endeavored to put every man on his guard against being caught unawares. Besides, he had laid out a shrewd plan of campaign, by means of which it was hoped to demoralize the assailants.
After what seemed like an interminable wait there was a sudden shot. One of those on guard had possibly caught sight of an enemy creeping closer to the outskirts of the camp.
It was enough to tell the prowling Indians that their plans were no secret; for immediately the forest resounded with their shrill whoops. They seemed to spring up from every direction. Seeing their numbers in the faint light of the stars, the defenders of the camp might well be excused for feeling new alarm.
Then guns began to sound and to join their ringing reports with the awful shouts of the enemy. The arrows flew like hail, and lucky the white who had found shelter in time behind some friendly tree.
It was in this exciting moment that Pat O'Mara proved his worth.
Above the dreadful clamor his brave Irish voice rang out, cheering the men on.
"Hurroo! give it till 'em, me byes! Shoot straight ivery toime, and make each bit av lead count! Remimber the wimmen and childer, it is; and knock ivery head ye say!" he kept shouting, seeming to be everywhere at once.
He had arranged it so that the men fought in couples. While one fired the other was reloading his gun; and thus there was always a detail capable of sending in a volley, should it be desperately needed.
Bob and Sandy crouched low, doing manful work, though filled with unspeakable dread lest the Indians should rush the camp, carrying all before them.
"Are they retreating, brother?" asked Sandy at length, after this riot of terrible sounds had been going on for what seemed an age.
"I think it must be so," returned Bob, hardly able to believe the truth himself. "Their shouts seem to be further away; and the arrows have stopped falling!"
"Oh! I wonder what damage has been done, and if—" But even the stout-hearted Sandy dare not voice the fear that was in his soul, for his thoughts had turned to the beloved father and the two others who crouched back of that poor shelter of logs.
Were any of them injured?
"Lights! Start the fire, so that we can see what damage has been done!" called the leader of the emigrant band; and almost like magic tinder was ignited, to be applied to the fires prepared against this time of need.
"Come with me, Bob!" said the younger boy, unable to undertake the mission alone.
"Courage!" cried the other in his ear; "I am sure all is well, and that I heard Kate's voice in the song of hallelujah that arose from the women when it was known the Indians had fled. All must be well, brother!"
Yes, all was well; and in another moment the boys were encircled in the loving arms of their anxious mother, while David, bleeding from a slight wound where an arrow had struck him, stood by with thanksgiving written on his bearded face.
If the boys had felt worried about the mother and Kate, fancy her feelings, knowing as she did that her loved ones were on the firing line and taking a thousand risks!
But it was all over now. Pat O'Mara declared that the red men had received a lesson they would not soon forget. Doubtless the valiant little company of home-seekers would not be troubled again while on the way to the Ohio.
They had not come out of the battle entirely unscathed. True, Heaven had been kind, and no one had been mortally hurt; but there were several suffering grievous wounds, who would have to be tenderly nursed for a time.
"It's lucky for us," declared the redoubtable Irish trapper, after the extent of the damage had been discovered, "thot the Shawanees niver poison their war arrows. Troth, but it would be a sorry day for the loike av us if thot same were thrue, as I've knowed some Injuns to do." And every poor fellow who had received a more or less painful wound echoed his words.
When the pioneers came to look around in the early morning light, expecting to find many dead Indians, for those guns had poured a hail of bullets directly into the midst of the onrushing foe, to their great surprise they failed to discover a single one. Their dusky comrades must have crept up in the darkness and removed both dead and wounded, fearing lest they fall into the hands of the whites.
It was high noon before the expedition could get started that day, there were so many things to be done toward repairing damages, attending the wounded, and waiting to hear the report of scouts sent out to learn whether the Indians had really left the vicinity.
Satisfied at length that it would be safe to travel, they made a start. But it might be noticed that from now on there would be no long straggling line of burdened horses, strung out along the buffalo trail. They huddled together in a bunch, and every man clung to his gun constantly, while eyes were kept on the alert for the slightest sign of the cunning enemy.
Several times there were alarms that sent a quiver throughout the entire line. Once a woman discovered a branch moving in a tree, and was sure that their relentless foes must have secreted themselves among the sprouting foliage of the oaks, or amid the dense pines, ready to drop down upon the little caravan as it passed.
Forming in a compact mass, with the horses and women in the centre, and the armed men circling the whole, they waited until Pat O'Mara himself crept forward to investigate. Then it was found that a wildcat had jumped from one branch to another, causing the swaying movement that brought about the alarm.
Altogether it was a day never to be forgotten. When night drew near, the leader, after conferring with the trapper, selected a place for camping which could readily be defended. Half an hour's work among the loose rocks, and the pioneers had constructed quite a fort.
Bob and his brother worked with the rest; but both of them keenly felt this new necessity for being shut up with the others, for they loved dearly to roam.
"To-morrow, if all is well, we must get out ahead again," said Sandy, as they watched the night shades gather around the new camp.
"Pat says there is little danger," added Bob, reflectively. "He knows these Indians like a book, and declares that they will not recover from their licking in a hurry. Besides, we need not go far away in order to strike game in this country where it is so plentiful."
"It looks as if they meant to keep the fires going to-night."
"Yes, that is to show the enemy that we do not fear them. Pat says you can cow Indians by appearing to have a contempt for them. Once let them believe you are afraid and they will be very brave. Besides, you know we have men out yonder watching. No danger of a surprise to-night. Every trail is guarded."
"Well, it looks more cheerful, I must say," declared Sandy; "and there is surely something in what Pat says. Who knows the ways of these redskins better than he? Twice has he been with Colonel Boone, far down in the regions of the Kentucky River. I would trust his word in anything."
"He seems to be everywhere, and hardly sleeps. But," and Bob sighed as he spoke, "I know I shall be glad, for one, when we reach the spot where we mean to make our new home, and can build a cabin to cover the heads of mother and Kate."
"Just what I was thinking," echoed the younger lad. "After all, there is nothing like home, no matter if it be in Virginia or in the wilderness, so long as she is there. But, oh! listen! Is that not the signal agreed upon with the sentinels out in the timber? Can the enemy be coming down on us now?"
"Impossible," said Bob, after listening intently. "According to all we have ever heard about their ways they do not make an attack before late in the night, and never at dusk. It must mean something else."
"But there it goes again, and closer. One of the men is coming in. Perhaps he does not wish to take chances of being fired upon by some hasty fellow."
"Now I hear voices," declared Bob, raising his hand, "and some of them do not sound familiar, though they speak good English. Oh! I wonder if it can be—look at Pat hurrying forward, and see how his face is covered with a broad grin! Brother, it must be he recognized a familiar sound in—Look, several men are coming, and they are hunters, too!"
"That one in front, Bob, with the bold air—I have not forgotten that Pat told us how one man he knew seemed born to command. Did you ever see a face like that? It is,—it must be Colonel Boone himself!"
All was now excitement in the emigrant camp. Dogs barked, horses neighed, men shouted, and women laughed; while children added their shrill cries to the general clamor. Just the coming of five men clad in buckskin had caused this uproar; but such men!
"Come!" cried Sandy, seizing hold of his brother by the sleeve. "Let us go forward and meet them. See, there is father shaking hands with Colonel Boone, just as if he had known him before. And look at Pat dancing around like a crazy man! Did you ever know him to be so happy? Now we shall surely reach the Ohio without being set upon again by the red men."
It was a period of great rejoicing. Daniel Boone (Note 5) and his fellow hunters were once more on their way to the region where the great pioneer had determined to locate his future home, in the heart of the country below the Ohio, and to be known later on as Kentucky.
As the hunters had not supped, the women were soon employed getting them a good meal. Meanwhile the story of the recent fight was told.
But there was little that was new to these readers of Indian signs; for they had passed over the scene of the fight just a few hours back, and, not finding any signs of fresh graves, knew that death could not have visited the pioneers.
Both Bob and Sandy felt proud to shake the hand of the man of whom they had heard so much from the Irish trapper; and, when they looked into his bold face, with its wonderfully magnetic eyes, they understood how it was that Colonel Boone had such a strange influence with the Indians along the Ohio.
"He has promised to stay wid us until we reach the river," said Pat O'Mara, as he joined the Armstrong family a little later, as they were comparing notes.
"And the others also?" asked David. "Daviess, Hardin, Harlan and the young man, Simon Kenton (Note 6), of whom Boone seems to be so fond, will they also remain in our company that long?"
"Sure they will," replied the trapper, quickly, "an' only too glad av the chanct. It isn't often they happens to run acrost white paple in this blissed wilderness. The sight av a lady must be a plisure till men as are exiled from home. Sure they mane to stay by us. And by the same token 'tis little we nade fear from the pesky rid varmints after this."
It seemed to Sandy that he could not sleep, much as he was in need of rest after the wakefulness of the previous night. He hovered around wherever Colonel Boone chanced to be, listening to his musical voice, and hanging upon his words.
The forest rangers were all dressed pretty much alike, after the custom in vogue at that day. The outside garment was a hunting shirt, or loose open frock, made of tanned deerskins. Leggins of the same material covered the lower limbs, fancifully fringed along the outside seam; the collar, or cape, of the shirt was also fringed. The feet were clad in beaded moccasins, no doubt made in some Indian wigwam.
Each man carried a hatchet or tomahawk suspended from his belt, while a keen-edged hunting knife reposed in a leather sheath. Besides, there were a powder-horn, bullet-pouch, and a little bag containing tinder, flint and steel, and such indispensables as a nomad, wandering day by day through unknown forests, would need for his comfort.
Sandy, even after he was induced to lie under a blanket, kept watching the imposing figure of Boone, as he moved about the camp. It was a plain case of hero worship on the boy's part. He had heard so much about this wonderful man, and now that he had seen him there was not the least disappointment connected with the reality.
Finally Sandy fell asleep, his last thought being a sincere wish that some day he too might possess a portion of the power over men that was given to Daniel Boone.
It was morning when the boy awoke. There had been no alarm during the night, and Pat O'Mara's prediction concerning the Indians seemed coming true. The defeat they had received at the hands of the whites had cowed them for the time being, though of course no one was so simple as to believe that this state of affairs, however pleasant it might seem, would last long.
An early start was made, for they had high hopes that they might arrive at the bank of the mighty Ohio River before another night.
"If you put your best foot forward," Boone had told them the previous night, as he conferred with Pat and the leading spirits in the camp, "it may be possible to look upon the Ohio before dark sets in again. Jo Daviess here, who has a better knowledge of distances than the rest of us, since he has been a surveyor, tells me it can be done. And I have never known him to make a mistake."
That day marked a vast difference in the attitude of the pioneers. No longer did they huddle together like a hunch of scared quail, anticipating trouble from every quarter. The very presence of those five experienced hunters and Indian fighters seemed a tower of strength to them.
Sandy and his brother took advantage of the opportunity to resume their usual hunting expedition, and managed to bring down a fine five-pronged buck that was a welcome addition to the larder.
It was about four in the afternoon, as told by the sun in the western heavens, for none of them had any other means of ascertaining the flight of time, when, passing through an unusually dense patch of timber, the pioneers came out upon a high bank, and saw a sight that tingled their blood.
Before them flowed a majestic stream, wooded down to the edge of the water, and with the westering sun gilding the little wavelets until they seemed tipped with gold. It was the sublime Ohio, at that time the most beautiful of streams, for its hilly shores were covered with the virgin forest.
Loud rang the cheers from that little band of pioneers.
The Armstrongs' long and arduous journey was at an end. Somewhere along the river they would select the spot upon which to erect their cabin. The surrounding country fairly teemed with game; and, if the Indians would only leave them in peace, they had reason to believe that in this wilderness they might find the haven for which they sighed when leaving their Virginia home.
That night the hunters passed again with the settlers. On the following morning it was the intention of Boone and his companions to start further west; for the lure of Kentucky was in his veins, and he felt that no other place could satisfy him, after having once seen that rich soil and hunted in the majestic woods along the Kentucky River.
Before leaving the pioneers the mighty hunter gave them much good advice. He knew of a very desirable plateau just a few miles further west, looking out upon the river, where he himself would locate if he had not already decided on a site on the Kentucky River; and here he hoped they would settle.
Bob and Sandy had decided that they would accompany the hunters a little way when they left. They wished to see as much of them as possible, and, besides, it was down the river the rest would soon be coming, in search of the spot marked out by the discerning eye of Boone.
"Glad to have your company, lads," said Daniel Boone, when Bob made the request, "for I have taken much interest in both of you. Friend Armstrong is a lucky man to have his family with him from the start," and he sighed slightly, for it had been so fated that in much of his pioneer work Boone was compelled to be separated from those he loved.
That was a morning those lads would never forget as long as they lived. Side by side they walked with the man who knew more about Indian craftiness than any other along the entire frontier; and in his own pleasant way Boone gave the boys much valuable advice.
"Always keep a charge in your gun if possible," he said, "and sleep with one eye open, when you have reason to believe there are Indians around; for, next to a cat, I believe the red varmints to be the trickiest things in all creation. But here we are at the spot I picked out for your settlement. It would not be wise for you to go any further, lads. What do you think of my choice? Do you believe you can make a happy home here?"
When they looked around, and noted the natural beauty of the location, commanding a fine view of the river as it did, the two boys were loud in its praise.
"I'm glad you like it," observed Boone; "for the first time I struck this place I determined that some day it must be covered with the homes of white men. Once an Indian village stood here, and why they moved away I never learned; but you will find many signs where their lodges stood, and there are burial places back in the hills."
"Must you go now, Colonel Boone?" asked Bob, who felt a sense of keen regret because their pleasant relations must be severed so soon.
"It is necessary that we lose no more time," came the reply; "already I fear that some who await us far beyond may be in difficulties, for the Indians were beginning to grow troublesome at the time I left. But we will come again. Here we shall hope to find a warm welcome when passing back and forth."
So the boys shook hands with each of the five buckskin-clad rangers. The young man, Simon Kenton, had interested them very much.
"He has the making of a second Colonel Boone in him," Bob said, as his eyes followed the little band of pioneers, walking along in Indian file, with Kenton bringing up the rear; "I wish he would only take a notion to join his fortunes with us here."
Then the figures of the five were hidden in the dense undergrowth. The last they saw of Daniel Boone was when he turned, before plunging into the thicket, to wave a hand to them in good-bye.
"What shall we do now?" asked Sandy, rather gloomily; for somehow he seemed to feel the departure of these valiant frontiersmen keenly, though he had only known them such a brief time.
"Stay around here until our folks come. We promised Colonel Boone not to follow after him, you remember," returned Bob, with whom his word was as good as his bond.
"But that may not be for some hours," protested the impatient Sandy; "because, you know, they were not near ready to start when we left camp; and then they will move much slower than we did, led by men who know every trail."
"But it ought to be enough for us to just sit here and look out on that grand river," remarked Bob, admiration in his eyes, as he turned them upon the silently flowing stream, still bank-full from the spring rains.
"It is a fine sight, I'm ready to say," Sandy admitted; "and after we get a cabin built we ought to be mighty well contented here, with fish to be had for the taking at the door, and game coming up almost asking to be shot."
"Think of the use for our traps back in those wooded hills. Why, I wager we shall lay in a store of pelts the first winter five times as great as ever happened in Virginia. But how glad I am the dreadful journey is done. Kate and mother both stood it better than father expected. How brave they are, and what a blessing it is to have such a mother and sister."
Bob's eyes filled while he was speaking; but they were tears of gratitude, not sorrow.
Sitting there, and gazing as if fascinated out upon the broad and majestic stream which from this time on was fated to enter so deeply into their new life, Bob did not notice that his younger brother was wandering around the place. Sandy had always been as curious as any woman, and this propensity had more than a few times brought him face to face with trouble.
It was perhaps half an hour after the five hunters had left them when Bob suddenly aroused to the fact that for some time he had not heard anything from his brother.
"I wonder where he can be?" he said to himself a little anxiously as he scrambled to his feet to glance around. "Strange that he is not in sight. Perhaps after all he did lie down, and in this warm sunshine has gone to sleep."
The idea pleased him, and he started to search for some sign of the missing one.
Three minutes, five passed, and still he had not discovered Sandy. He had not as yet called, thinking that there was no need.
"Perhaps I can track him," Bob said to himself, as he once more reached the spot where he had been reclining.
It was not very difficult to ascertain where the footprints of his brother made a distinct trail, for, although Sandy wore moccasins, the soil was soft, and he had not been at any pains to hide his tracks.
So Bob moved along, to the right and to the left, just as Sandy had happened to make his way when investigating the site for the proposed settlement. Thus by slow degrees he found himself doubling on their own trail.
At discovering this Bob smiled.
"I think I can see now," he remarked. "While we promised Colonel Boone not to go any further than this, nothing was said about the back country. And Sandy has been unable to resist the temptation to wander around, looking for game. But he could not have found anything worth while, or surely I should have heard a gun-shot. Perhaps I had better give him a hail."
So saying he raised his hand to his mouth, after a fashion which they had long followed when in the woods, or following their line of traps, and immediately through the woods rang his shout:
"Ho! Sandy! Hello!"
To his astonishment a voice immediately answered, and he saw his brother advancing hurriedly toward him. But he carried no game; and no sooner had Bob set eyes upon the other's face than he realized that Sandy brought news of some sort, for he looked excited.
"What is it,—Indians?" asked the older boy, involuntarily half raising his musket, and casting an apprehensive glance around at the frowning and mysterious forest by which they were almost entirely surrounded.
But Sandy shook his head in the negative, much to the relief of his brother.
"Then have you found a bear's den, or perhaps a wolf's whelps?" he went on.
"You would never guess it in a week, Bob," declared Sandy, with a smile; "but come with me. I am sure you can do him good, with your knowledge of surgery, which is going to make you a wonderful man some fine day."
"Surgery! What have you found, Sandy? Is there any one wounded near here?"
Sandy nodded his head.
"Yes, and pretty badly hurt, I fear."
"Not a white man, surely?" went on the other, falling into step with the impatient one.
"It is an Indian," replied Sandy, soberly.
"Perhaps one of those who were wounded in the fight. He may have come thus far on his way to his village, and given out," and now it was Bob who urged the pace, for his professional instinct had been aroused.
True, it was only an Indian who was injured, and in those days the settlers on the frontiers had a very low estimation of the red man as a human being. But then Bob was a boy, and his love for relieving pain amounted almost to a mania with him. Many a time had he set the broken limb of some little wild animal, across which he had accidentally come in the forest; and his operations had always been very successful; so much so that both father and mother were proud of him.
Sandy had apparently taken particular notice of the place where he had found the injured Indian, for he seemed to experience no trouble in leading the way back there.
"Here he is," he suddenly remarked, as he swept aside a screen of pawpaws.
Bob looked down upon a painted face, and felt a pair of glittering black eyes fastened intently upon him.
"Why, he is a young fellow, hardly more than a boy," he remarked in some surprise; but his words must have been understood by the wounded one, for he tried to draw his slender figure up in pride.
"Me brave—me Blue Jacket!" he said, almost fiercely, smiting himself several times on the chest.
The peculiar name caused Bob to notice for the first time that the young Indian was indeed wearing a hunting shirt fancifully decked with the quills of the blue-jay, and from which he doubtless took his name, although in the Indian tongue it would probably be of an altogether unpronounceable nature.
The Indian did not wholly trust them, it was plain to be seen. Unable to fight, he seemed ready to stoically meet his fate without a whimper, for, perhaps, he fully expected these enemies to knock him on the head, because it was evident from the nature of his wound that he had been in the recent engagement.
"Let me look at your hurt, Blue Jacket," said Bob, bending down over the recumbent figure.
The other set his teeth hard, but beyond a grunt gave no sign, while the white lad carefully drew away the cloth which was tied about the leg in which a bullet had become imbedded.
In some way the wounded brave must have become separated from his fellows, and, while trying to get to his village alone, had fallen here through weakness caused by the loss of blood.
"He would have been dead by morning if some one had not found him," declared Bob as he started to cleanse the wound as well as possible just then, meaning to repeat the operation when he could have warm water in plenty.
Those beady eyes followed each gentle action with perplexity that gradually grew into confidence. Blue Jacket was learning a new lesson in warfare. His savage conception of how a fallen enemy should be treated had received a rude jolt.
"Here, Sandy," said the young surgeon, presently, "take hold of his feet, and we will carry him over to where we expect to camp on the site of the coming settlement. The poor fellow shall not die if I can help it. You found him, and he belongs to us. Remember that, if anybody wants to do him an injury. Pat will stand by us, I'm sure; and mother must, for has she not always told us we should do good even to them that persecute us. Now, gently, Sandy. An Indian can suffer, if he does refuse to show it."
"How will this place do?" asked Bob, coming to a halt, and the boys gently lowered their burden to the ground.
"Just the place where I'd like to see our cabin raised, with that fine view of the river up and down," declared the other, enthusiastically.
"And that is why I chose it," answered Bob with a smile. "If we are already at work here, father and mother will naturally come along to us, and the thing is done without any fuss."
The young Indian had not said a single word since making the assertion that his name was Blue Jacket, and that he was a brave, not a boy.
Those keen black eyes had observed all that the Armstrong lads did with an ever-increasing knowledge of what it meant. There was something in their manner of handling him that spoke louder than words to the wild heart of this child of the forest; and already he had begun to feel confidence in them.
"Now, start a blaze as soon as you like, Sandy. By the time they get here the fire will be good and hot, so that water will heat in a jiffy."
They had made the wounded Indian as comfortable as possible; and he lay there, apparently content to watch them work. Possibly he expected that, when the white men, against whom his hand had so recently been raised, should arrive on the scene, his fate must be a matter of minutes; but an Indian never shows emotion, and fear, in his eyes, is the symptom of a coward.
Sandy immediately gathered some wood. He had had long experience in making fires, and gloried in the opportunity to show his skill.
"There, how does that look?" he demanded presently, when, after having used his flint and steel with good results, the flying sparks quickly caught in the dry tinder, and flames began to creep up amidst the gathered wood.
"As fine as the finest," returned his brother, who knew Sandy's weakness, and never let a chance to cater to it pass by; "and unless my ears deceive me I think I heard voices just then up-river."
"You are right, brother," declared the younger lad, pointing; "for there they come, with Pat O'Mara, bless his heart, at the head of the line."
The wounded Indian never even started, and yet a quiver of alarm must certainly have passed through his agonized frame. He simply turned his gaze toward the setting sun, as though, if the worst came, he wished to feast his eyes for the last time on that glorious spectacle. For the clouds floating in space had begun to take on a most gorgeous tint, as though the mysterious unknown country beyond might be putting on a holiday dress to welcome him to the Happy Hunting Grounds of the red man.
Then the long line of horses and pioneers arrived on the spot that had been picked out by Colonel Boone as the prettiest site for a settlement he knew of along the upper Ohio.
Various exclamations of rapture and delight broke forth. The magical beauty of the scene overpowered all alike. Men and women stood there, drinking in the river view as seen in the fading light of the sun; and, when they turned to exchange sentiments, they were unanimously favorable.
"It is Paradise!" cried one woman, who had suffered greatly during the long pilgrimage across mountains and wilderness.
Pat O'Mara was the happiest of the whole group. He did not expect to put up a cabin home, for his nature compelled him to be a rover; but, since he had guided these pioneers along the way into the Promised Land, naturally he felt elated because they were thrilled and pleased with their new homeland.
And then again, Pat had the greatest admiration for that chief of pioneers, Daniel Boone, who had selected this site as the proper spot for a future white man's town.
"Now, plase lave all thot till another day," he called out, presently; "and pay attintion till the juties av the hour. Sure, they be fires to sthart, fuel to chop, and some protiction to be made aginst an attack av the rids. To worrk thin, iverybody!"
Seeing their two boys standing at a certain point, David Armstrong, his good wife, and Kate, leading the two horses, made toward them. From the fact that there was already quite a heap of firewood piled up they took it for granted that Bob wished them to camp on that particular spot for some reason or other.
Suddenly Kate gave utterance to a bubbling cry of alarm.
"What is it!" demanded her father, startled, since he could only imagine that the young girl might have turned her ankle at just the last stage of their long journey.
"Look behind the boys, father! An Indian!" she exclaimed, pointing a trembling finger toward Bob.
David, too, discovered the form just at that moment, and was also visibly disturbed. But he noticed that both boys were showing not the least sign of any alarm, and from that understood there could be no danger.
Perhaps, also, his renewed confidence arose from the fact that the Indian was lying on his back, and not in the act of creeping forward, as if intent on sinking his tomahawk into the bodies of the lads.
"What is this, Bob, Sandy?" he asked, as he stood over the form of the Shawanee, who met his gaze without a flicker of emotion.
"We found the poor fellow near by, father. He is wounded, and was slowly bleeding to death," said Bob hastily, and not a little anxiously.
"And Bob couldn't keep from helping him; you know his failing, father. What we want now is a kettle in which to heat some water," remarked Sandy, making a movement to secure the implement he had in mind, and which, in company with other cooking utensils, dangled from the back of the leading horse.
"Stop! what is this you mean to do?" asked David Armstrong uneasily.
"Save the poor fellow's life, perhaps. He has an even chance if I can cleanse that ugly wound," replied Bob, meeting his father's eye steadily.
"But he must have been one of those savages who tried to rush our camp night before last; the wound is from one of our own bullets!" David went on, shaking his head, as though he did not wholly believe it right they should nurse a viper only to have him sting them.
Bob looked appealingly at his mother. Well he knew where to go for backing in a case like this; nor did he make any mistake.
"David, for shame! Would you let the poor boy die, even though his skin be different from ours? Do we learn this in the Good Book? Is it not written that we bind up the hurts of our enemies, and thus cover their heads with ashes of reproach? What if it were one of our dear lads, in an Indian village—would you wish him to be treated like a dog? We have come here to live, and it becomes us to set a Christian example to these poor heathen."
David Armstrong was far from being a hard man at heart. Like most of the early pioneers he had imbibed strong ideas concerning the heroic measures necessary to hold their own against the grievous perils that menaced them on every side. And, doubtless, he, in common with most of the men in the ranks of those who invaded the wilderness, believed that the "only good Indian was a dead Indian." But, as always, he was dominated by the sweet influence of his gentle wife.
"Boys, your mother knows best," he said, presently; "and it is better that you take pattern from her, than follow in my footsteps. Do what you think is right, and we will hope no evil follows."
Of course the young Indian had listened to all this talk closely. He might not understand what sentiment influenced the wife and mother; but he could see the noble pity that shone in her eyes as she bent above him.
Still, not by the slightest expression did he betray any satisfaction that may have passed through his heart at the knowledge that he was not to be ruthlessly put to death as he had anticipated. That would have ill become a warrior, which, boy though he seemed to be, he had so proudly proclaimed himself.
Meanwhile Sandy made his way down to the edge of the flowing river and filled his kettle with water which he placed upon the stones composing the rude but effective fireplace. It would only take five or ten minutes to heat this sufficiently for the purpose of the amateur surgeon.
David busied himself relieving the animals of their several loads, in which both Bob and Kate assisted. Rude shelters in the shape of tents would have to serve them for the present, until cabins could be provided; but, ere another sun set, the chances were that several houses would be started, for these pioneers were quick workers, once they set their shoulders to anything.
Bob knew that no time should be lost in washing that inflamed wound, and applying some of the wholesome soothing lotion which his mother prided herself in making. Well he knew its wonderful properties in a case of this kind, and he believed that it would allay the dangerous stage of that injury as nothing else might, hence his desire to make haste in applying it. The others could in the meantime be erecting the tent and gathering their scanty household goods under its friendly shelter.
When he found the water warm enough for his purpose he went to work. Most of the pioneers were too busily engaged just then in settling on locations for the night to bother hanging around to see what occupied the attention of the Armstrong lads; but, of course, the smaller children quickly discovered the presence of a real Indian in the camp, and the news speedily circulated around.
Pat O'Mara himself came over to assist his particular friends, and when he saw what task was being done his eyes opened round with wonder.
"Begorra! an' is it a horsepital ye've stharted already, Bob?" he asked, as he leaned over to look, and then started at seeing a copper-colored face with a pair of snapping black eyes fastened defiantly on his own countenance. "Phat! a ridskin it is ye are afther havin' here? Sure, it's the first toime I iver saw a white lad nurse a sick Injun bye!"
When the prospect of death itself could not induce the Shawanee to show signs of emotion, this likening him to a youth, as in the previous instance, seemed to arouse him. An Indian hates above all things to be called a squaw or a child. He sat up, despite the restraining hand of Bob, and smote himself proudly on the chest, once again exclaiming angrily:
"Blue Jacket, him no boy—warrior—big brave, ugh!"
"Well," remarked Pat with a quizzical smile, "I reckons as how what ye sez is all quite thrue, Blue Jacket. And if so be this foine lad chooses to coddle yees back to loife agin, phat business is it av ours? On'y it sames till me 'tis a great waste av toime an' liniment. But, Bob, look out ye don't lose yer patient, lad."
"Lose him, Pat?" echoed the other, pausing in the act of binding up the limb, after having used the precious, magical ointment given to him by his mother. "What can you mean? I feel sure he'll come around all right. He's young, and with good blood in his veins. Surely the chances are ten to one—"
Bob stopped right there. Suddenly he comprehended what the kindly Irish trapper meant, when he spoke in that way. Following the meaning look of the other he saw that a man was hurriedly approaching them. He carried a gun in his hand, and there was an ugly expression on his bearded face.
This man was a pioneer named Brady. He had come from the section of Carolina where the Boone family had lived, and was meaning to hew himself a new home in the great western wilderness.
Anthony Brady was the father of a family, and a fair sample of the early pioneer, but he hated Indians above all living things, looking upon them as only fit to be shot and hewed down whenever possible.
Bob knew that Anthony had had a brother dangerously wounded in that warm engagement when the Shawanees attempted to carry the camp. This must have aggravated Brady's already bitter feeling for the red men, and, hearing that the Armstrong boys were meaning to nurse one of the wounded foemen back to life, he was filled with rage that such a thing should ever be allowed.
And Bob felt that Blue Jacket was in more peril right then than when he lay on the ground, weakened by his wound, and left to perish.