"Sandy!"
The younger lad heard his name called and, looking up, caught the beckoning finger of his brother. One look told him what was threatening, for the face of the advancing settler betrayed the ugly thoughts that filled his mind.
Sandy immediately sprang over to join forces with his brother, for whatever Bob did was right, in his mind, and he stood ready to back him up to the end.
"What does all this foolishness mean?" demanded the tall pioneer as he came to where Bob was still kneeling beside his patient, with the bandage just secured by a strip of narrow linen which his mother was never without, since every housewife in those days had to be ready for emergencies.
Bob did not answer. He waited until Mr. Brady saw the young Indian, who met the angry glare in the settler's eyes with a defiant look. Blue Jacket even hastened to sit up, and fold his sinewy arms across his chest. It was the attitude which he conceived a true warrior ought to assume when ready to chant his death song, and laugh at Fate.
"An Injun!" roared the furious man, making a threatening movement with his long musket. "They told me so, but I couldn't hardly believe it. A red viper in our camp, to be nursed back to life so that he can bring his fellows down on us some fine night, and scalp the whole company. We'll soon settle that!"
"Hold on, Mr. Brady," said Bob calmly. "What do you mean to do?"
He had placed himself in front of the wounded Indian, shielding his painted body with his own. Sandy stood close at hand, ready to clutch the arm of the infuriated man should he dare venture to extremes. And Mr. Armstrong came hurrying up, urged on by his alarmed wife.
"Shoot the snake as he deserves, if you must know!" shouted the man, who had worked himself up into a condition bordering on hysteria. "Who knows but what it was him that wounded my poor brother, Caleb! One Injun more or less can never matter much, anyway. So stand aside, Bob Armstrong, and let me put him out of his misery, like you would a mad dog."
But he greatly mistook the temper of Bob, if he thought that threats like this could have any influence over him. On the contrary the young pioneer only spread himself more squarely in front of his helpless charge.
"No, you shall not hurt him, Mr. Brady. Sandy and I found him, and he belongs to us. Pat O'Mara is still in charge of this company, and he has told us we could do what we wanted with him. Besides, he is only one lone Indian, and can do us no harm. Perhaps, if we help him now, he may not forget it some time in the future. For we are come here to stay always, and his people belong here."
The man dared not attempt to fire while Bob thus interposed his body between; besides, he had a healthy respect for the redoubtable Irish trapper.
"Is that true, O'Mara?" he demanded. "Have you given these foolish lads permission to keep this varmint alive when he's better off if dispatched?"
"'Tis a fact that they prejudiced me in favor av thot same ijee, aven though I was opposed to the same in the sthart," responded the genial Pat, winking at Sandy while he spoke. "And p'raps it's best thot ye do be mindin' yer own business, Mr. Brady, meanin' no offence at all."
"And," said David, laying a heavy hand on the other's shoulder, "they have the approval of both their mother and myself, Brady, so please pay no more attention to what we are doing here. The redskin will be able to travel in a few days. Perhaps he may take a message to his people from us, and be the means of bringing about a lasting truce—who knows? At all events he is going to be doctored by Robert, and no one will lay a finger on him without accounting to me!"
Anthony Brady was no fool, though doubtless a most impulsive man. He knew that the conditions were most unfavorable for a continuance of the argument, so, shrugging his broad shoulders, and with a last scowl at the impassive face of the young Shawanee brave, he turned on his heel in disgust.
"Well, have your way, Armstrong," he said, moodily. "But, if I happen to run across this young savage in the forest, he will never return to his people to tattle about our weakness."
"And if you attempt any treachery, Brady, you will answer to me for it, remember," declared David, sternly.
"An' to me, by the pipers!" echoed O'Mara, shaking his head aggressively.
"Have no fear as long as he is in your charge, neighbor, for I am not the man to stir up strife over one wretched Injun; but, after he leaves you the case is different, and he can be safely potted by any white with a ready gun," and with this dark threat Brady stalked away.
And the one who had been the cause for all this excitement did not utter a single word to show that he understood what a world of gratitude he owed to the two boys. But there was a look of intelligence in his face. He understood, and would not forget.
The night was now gathering around them. Fires had been started, and every soul in the new settlement seemed to be busily engaged.
Already had the Armstrong tent been raised, and things were assuming rather a cheery look around them. And, while they worked, many times did the eyes of those pioneers wander down to the placid surface of that broad and swift river, concerning which they had heard such extravagant tales.
Supper was presently ready. It consisted of the simplest of fare, for luxuries were utterly unknown among these early settlers along the Ohio; but there was plenty and to spare, and their good wives knew how to cook it in an appetizing manner.
Nor was the young Indian forgotten. He sat up and ate in silence. Not one word did he speak to express any gratitude, save when he was through, and ready to lie back again, at which time he gave a grunt, and remarked:
"Ugh! good!"
"I guess he doesn't know much English," observed Sandy, chuckling.
"That may be," replied his brother; "but I've heard Pat say that these Indians never tell what they think. I reckon he feels it all right, for I can see something in those snapping black eyes of his that tells me so every time he looks at either of us."
"Yes, and you in particular, Bob," declared Sandy; "because he just can't understand why you treat him so fine, when he expected to be knocked on the head, like we do a lynx or a fox we find in our traps."
The customary precautions were taken that night to guard against a surprise. The gloomy mysterious forest surrounded them on every side save the river, and who could say what terrible perils it concealed? Here roved fierce beasts of prey, the bear, the panther, and the wolf, besides possibly other species of animals the nature of which they did not know.
But still more to be feared ten times over were those dusky hordes of savages, whose country they had invaded, if not with hostile intent, at least meaning to take it for the use of the white man.
But there was no night alarm. Doubtless more than one among the women trembled as she lay awake during that first night on the bank of the Ohio, and listened to various sounds from the forest that might not be familiar to her ears, and which her fears magnified into signals exchanged between different parties of prowling Indians waiting for a chance to attack the intruders.
But morning dawned, bright and rosy, and all was well.
Bob had slept close to where his patient lay on a spare blanket. He entertained some anxiety lest Brady, or another of the same stripe, might deem it a duty to creep up in the darkness and finish the wounded Indian. Perhaps he did the man an injustice in suspecting anything of the sort; but Bob had inherited his forefathers' Scotch caution.
All was soon animation. While the women prepared breakfast the hardy men selected the sites upon which they expected to begin erecting their future cabin homes.
The Armstrongs were able to retain possession of the spot which had so pleased the boys, and David had even marked the dimensions of his new home upon the rich soil; after which he took his axe and started to hew down a tree that interfered with the raising of the cabin.
Every soul in camp had plenty to do that wonderful day. The men worked early and late, assisting each other with the heavier labor of lifting the logs, after they had been properly hewn to fit. Even Pat swung a spare blade with more or less skill, for he intended to stay about until he had seen his good friends snugly installed in their new home.
The wounded Indian seemed to be getting along splendidly. His was a tough constitution, and able to withstand a shock that would have easily been fatal to one less accustomed to privations and hardships.
He passed a few words with Bob now, though his accomplishments in the line of English seemed limited. Indeed, it was a mystery where he had ever picked up what he did know; though later on Bob discovered that there had been a white woman taken prisoner by his tribe a year or two previous, and that before she died from some fever she had taken especial interest in young Blue Jacket, for some reason or other, teaching him many things.
When again night closed around the new settlement there were a dozen cabins in process of being erected. If the good work kept up, more than one might have a roof completed by another sunset.
A feeling of contentment reigned. Every one seemed delighted with the location, and expressed a feeling of gratitude toward Colonel Boone, in that he had guided them to this place, rather than allowed them to settle elsewhere further up the river.
And, when another day was spent, the Armstrong cabin was among the three that had the roof completed, so that they could actually move their belongings inside, and feel as though their period of pilgrimage were at an end, since once more they had a place to call home.
Trust that wife and mother to quickly add the delicate little touches that would give it the familiar air to which all of them were accustomed. It was commodious enough to allow of the wounded Indian's being carried within, which task was performed by the two boys, assisted by David himself; and the little mother superintended the job of making him comfortable.
He was improving rapidly, and Bob knew that it would not be many days before his patient would be able to walk, for the wound had started to heal in a magical way.
Though Blue Jacket said little, he watched all the while. Not a thing went on but that those beady black eyes saw it.
"I wonder what he thinks of it all," Mrs. Armstrong said several times, as she noticed how he followed her around with his gaze, while she was engaged in some of her household duties.
"I only hope he appreciates what you are doing for him enough not to bring any of his friends down on us some fine night," said David, who was only half reconciled to this state of affairs, and had little use for the copper-colored sons of the wilderness.
As the days passed on, and there was no alarm of any kind, the new settlers found reason to hope that the Indians, having been taught a severe lesson in that battle of the night, meant to leave them alone.
"Niver belave thot," said the wise O'Mara, when he heard this opinion expressed, "they do be the most treacherous av varmints. 'Tis the lot av thim wud lull yees to slape, an' then take yees be surprise. Watch always, me friends! Kape wun eye open whin yees slape! An' niver, niver go away from home widout a gun an' plenty av powder an' ball. Faith, I wudn't giv sixpence for the life av the man as niglected the proper precautions whin dalin' wid ridskins."
More than a whole week had now gone since the little company of daring souls came to a halt in this chosen spot; and then, one morning, there fell in the midst of the Armstrong family an unexpected shock that took every one by surprise.
"Oh! he's gone!"
Bob uttered these words one morning just after daybreak. Being the first to awaken, he had thought to start the fire so that his mother might prepare an early breakfast, since all of them were so full of business.
For he and Sandy had planned to go into the woods that day, hoping to secure a deer, since the stock of provisions was growing low.
"What ails you, Bob?" grunted Sandy, as he sat up on his blanket and dug his knuckles into a pair of heavy eyes.
"Blue Jacket—he's disappeared!" exclaimed the other, still looking as though he could not just grasp the fact that was so apparent.
Whereupon Sandy sprang up and stared at the corner where the wounded Indian had been accustomed to lying. The blanket was there, but no Blue Jacket!
"What can have happened to him, Bob?" exclaimed the younger boy, staring at his brother. "You don't think that ugly Anthony Brady did it? Oh! he surely could not have dragged him away to do him harm?"
"Well, hardly," said the wiser Bob, with a negative shake of the head; "because you see, Sandy, I was sleeping not five feet away from him all night, and you know I am not a hard sleeper. They couldn't have dragged him away and I not know it."
"But what do you think happened?" queried the puzzled Sandy.
"Blue Jacket crept away while we slept. He believed he was well enough to make the journey to his village home," Bob went on saying, just as though he understood it all perfectly now.
"And without saying good-bye to any of us? Did you ever hear of such ingratitude?" exclaimed the other, throwing up both hands in disgust.
"Wait. You do not know. Pat is still in the settlement, and we can ask him what he thinks about it. Anyhow, Indians are queer fish. They never do things the same way we do;" and Bob smiled at the angry look on his brother's face.
"But if he wanted to go home why didn't he tell us, and say good-bye in the right sort of way, instead of sneaking off like a sly mink!" Sandy kept on saying.
"Listen, and I'll tell you what I think. You know what Mr. Brady said about his meaning to shoot an Indian every time he saw one in the woods! Blue Jacket heard that, and he must have understood what it meant."
"Of course he did, for I saw him watching Mr. Brady," Sandy admitted.
"Well," said Bob, "you see, he believed that man was on the watch for the time he would leave us. Now you and I understand Brady has changed his mind a little about all Indians being bad. But Blue Jacket didn't know that. No doubt he suspected that, if he went away in the daytime, some one would slip after him and lay him low. And so he determined to go while we were asleep. What do you think of my guess now, Sandy!"
"It sounds all right," declared Sandy, enthusiastically; "yes, I'd wager a shilling that you have struck the truth, Bob. It takes you to see through things. But here is father; let us put it up to him."
Mr. Armstrong, upon hearing what had happened, immediately declared that the young Shawanee must have considered it the part of wisdom to slip away unnoticed while the settlement was wrapped in peaceful slumber.
"Go out and ask the sentinels whether any of them saw him," he said to the two boys; "but I wager you will find that nobody knows the first thing about him."
This proved to be the case, for, although the young pioneers made the rounds of the men who had been on guard duty during the entire night, in no quarter could they learn that a single flitting figure had really been seen.
One man had believed he saw something, but reached the conclusion, after an investigation, that it had only been a prowling raccoon or an opossum, both of which animals were to be found in plenty near the new settlement.
On the way back they ran across the genial Irish trapper. He was oiling some of his traps, as though ready to put them away until another season.
"The ridskin gone, is it, me byes?" he observed, after Sandy had told him why they were going around asking questions. "Well, upon me honor I'm not wan bit surprised, knowin' the sly ways av the animal so well. But, by yer lave, I'll go wid yees till the home, an' say if the ungrateful skunk had the good manners to lave a sign to till what he thought."
So it was Pat's eyes that discovered something fastened to a crevice between two of the logs, as yet unfilled by mud. It seemed to be a bit of inner bark which Blue Jacket must have obtained possession of recently, after he was able to limp around the interior of the new cabin, and even venture outside a little way.
Upon this he had scratched various rude signs. To the ignorant boys they looked like the crude work of a little child attempting to draw a pig, and some other domestic animals; but with Pat O'Mara it was different. Every little mark had a meaning of its own in his experienced eyes, for he had seen much of this Indian picture writing.
"Sure, 'tis just what I thought, byes," he declared, as he scanned this piece of bark with its cipher message. "He knowed wan av us min would be able to rade this missage."
"But what does it say, Pat?" demanded the impatient Sandy.
"In so many worrds thin," began the other, wrinkling his brows, "that he will niver, niver forgit what yees have done for him; and that some day perhaps he may have a chanct to repay ye for it all. Begorra, afther all the rid sarpint did have some falin' in him! I takes back all I iver sed aginst the lad. Who knows but thot this may be the interin' wedge whereby we may make a treaty av pace wid the bloody Injuns?"
Both boys were sorry that Blue Jacket was gone. Bob in particular had begun to feel quite drawn to the young Indian. Of late they had spent considerable time trying to converse. The Shawanee had told him more or less about his tribe, and in turn had learned that the motives of the invading whites were not at all warlike, if they were only let alone.
The axes sounded through the livelong day, as the settlers continued to clear away the woods which shut them in so closely. The further the fringe of nearest trees could be moved back, the freer would they breathe; for it seemed as though enemies must ever be lurking in the gloomy depths of the dense forest.
Fish were taken from the river with the utmost ease, and furnished many a fine meal, though many of them were of a species utterly unknown to any of the settlers. Blue Jacket had said they were good to eat, however, and so they had been found on testing them.
The cabins continued to arise, as it were, in a night. In this duty the new settlers always assisted one another when the time came for the log raising, since what was the interest of one must ever be the interest of all.
As fast as the trees were cut down, the virgin soil was turned over, rich as it was in valuable leaf mold, and some of the seeds, so carefully hoarded during the long journey from their Virginia starting place, were planted.
It was wonderful what rapid changes took place in that favored spot. Every sunset saw new cabins being topped with such rude shingles as the newcomers could hew from the timber which was so plentiful. No sooner was a cabin finished than the fortunate family would move in. Little they cared that there was not a piece of furniture awaiting them; and that tables and seats would all have to be made. A sound roof over their heads in case of storm was the main thing; besides, no doubt the women naturally felt safer behind stout walls, rather than settled in tents, or make-shift shelters of branches. They could not easily forget the terrors of that awful night when the Indians had attacked the camp, and looked eagerly forward to the day when the entire settlement might have a strong blockhouse where all could find safety in case of sudden need.
Then, by degrees, came the work of making things more comfortable for the women. Nearly every man could use fairly well the primitive tools of the day; and where this skill were lacking he might exchange his abilities in some other line with a more accomplished neighbor, so that the necessary deal table, and the benches, as well as bunks, or rude beds, for sleeping, were secured.
Certain of the members of the little community were given other tasks. Food had to be secured, and fortunately there was no lack, with the adjacent river to supply plenty of fresh fish for the taking, and the bountiful store of game awaiting the coming of the marksman.
Thus, in a very brief space of time, things began to take on a homelike appearance. Outdoor cooking might still be indulged in to a great extent; but there would also be times when the tempting venison roast would again be made ready for the table by the turning of the familiar spit over a fire of red ashes on the big hearth.
These hardy pioneers seldom had need of medicine, such was their active life, and plain wholesome fare; nevertheless, every family always kept a store of certain dried herbs used for fevers and other ailments. As a rule accidents alone required medical care; but there was always some woman in a settlement more highly favored than her companions in knowledge of nursing; and to her they looked in times of need.
Many of their cooking utensils they made themselves out of clay, which was baked after a rude fashion, just as the Indians did. These vessels, while not very fine looking, answered most admirably the purposes to which they were put, and many of them have been handed down to the descendants of these early Ohio settlers, to be treasured with due reverence.
Salt they could obtain readily enough. In Kentucky and Ohio in these days there were what were called "salt licks," because deer and buffalo frequented the places in order to gratify their longing for this almost indispensable commodity. Here they were able to secure with little effort whatever quantity of salt was needed.
Bob and Sandy were always on the lookout for such "licks." They knew from Daniel Boone and O'Mara that, whenever they wanted deer, it was simplest to hide close to one of these salt licks, and wait until buck or doe came to gratify its craving; when they could usually secure their game by a single shot.
It might seem rather hard that the poor deer should be taken advantage of in this way; but these men of the border looked upon the stocking of the limitless forest with various kinds of game as a wise provision of Nature, intended primarily for their good while peopling the land, and extending civilization westward toward that wonderful river of which they never tired of talking, the Mississippi.
David Armstrong had considered the situation carefully before starting from Virginia on this long journey. He also talked it over with Pat O'Mara. Consequently he had utilized every bit of money he could lay hands on to purchase certain articles which the Irish trapper assured him could be traded to the friendly Indians for their precious pelts of mink, fox, beaver, bear and other kinds of wild animals.
The French traders had, up to now, monopolized this business along the frontier all the way from the great inland seas, of which so little was known, down to the great province of Louisiana on the Gulf. They understood that their day would soon be brought to an end once the English invaded this vast territory; and consequently they were forever endeavoring to arouse the savages against Daniel Boone and those other hardy spirits who meant to chop out trails through the new country, and found a race of English-speaking settlers.
Mr. Armstrong intended to become a trader. In this way he believed he might earn enough to support his little family; especially since he had two such industrious boys, who could do so much to help out by bringing in game in season, tilling the little garden around the new home, and making good use of the few rusty and cumbersome traps they had brought all the way from Virginia.
In their hunts the boys had already learned that there was an apparently endless supply of small fur-bearing animals among the valleys within ten miles of their new home.
"Just think what great times we can have next winter," said Sandy, as they prepared for another jaunt into the timber, and this subject was brought up by the sight of Pat's rusty traps hanging from a peg on the side of the inner wall; for Pat was now ready to take one of his periodical lonely trips deeper into the unknown region further down the great river.
Just then the Irish trapper himself came out from the inner room, where he had been saying good-bye to their mother.
"Sure it's off I am, me byes," he observed, as he held out a hand to each, while his humorous blue eyes twinkled as he strove to keep back the tear which tried desperately to break loose. "Take good care av yersilves, now. And whist, lads; until the spring rains do be comin' to wit down the dead laves in the forest, it wud pay yees to be careful how ye set a fire goin'. Wanst caught in a forest fire was enough for me, thank ye."
"Why, of course we will, Pat," said Bob, shaking the honest hand of the trapper warmly; "and we all hope you will be back this way before long."
"And if you run across Colonel Boone," remarked Sandy, "as I reckon you mean to, tell him how glad we are to be here."
To all of which Pat promised faithfully; after which he shouldered his long barrelled rifle, gave a hitch to his leather trousers, waved his hand to Kate, who was looking out of the window, her pretty face bedewed with tears, and then, whistling merrily to hide his own emotion, he strode away.
A minute later he waved to them from the border of the dense woods; then he was gone, and no one could say whether they would ever again look upon the genial face of the happy Irish trapper. For his life was one constant succession of perilous adventures amidst wild beasts and even wilder human beings, so that he actually held his existence in the hollow of his hand.
"Come on, let us make a start," said Sandy, as impatient as ever.
Presently the two lads found themselves tramping along through the woods, on the alert for any game worth wasting precious powder and lead upon.
It had been quite mild of late, but to-day the wind had veered back into the old quarter where the ice king dwelt, and was growing stronger all the time. To the young hunters, however, the air was only invigorating, and gave tone to their efforts.
"Queer that we have seen nothing worth shooting up to now," remarked Sandy, after they had been tramping a full hour. "What do you think is the matter, Bob? Can the Indians be about, and have they frightened all the deer and buffalo away?"
Bob shook his head.
"I was just wondering," he said, "if we made too much noise stalking through all these dead leaves. Did you ever see such a thick mass? And as dry as tinder, too. See, when the wind catches them up, how they whirl like mad."
"Goodness!" remarked Sandy, remembering the caution of the trapper; "wouldn't it just be awful if they caught fire? We must be miles away from home, and could never reach it. What in the world would we do, Bob?"
Then, as he glanced up at his brother when asking this question, he discovered that Bob was standing there, sniffing the air suspiciously! In the present excited condition of Sandy's nerves that, of course, was enough to set him wild.
"What is it? You smell something—oh! Bob, please don't tell me that it is smoke!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with sudden alarm.
"That is just what I do smell," replied Bob, uneasily, though, seeing the distress of his brother, he immediately tried to laugh it off. "But perhaps it comes from some campfire started by the Indians. How do we know but what we may be close to a village, since no one has ever come this way before?"
"Now I get it," cried Sandy, "and, Bob, listen, what can that roaring sound mean? Are we near the river, and is that a rapids of any sort?"
In spite of his bravery, and his desire not to frighten Sandy, Bob felt that his face turned pale, for he knew instinctively what that strange sound meant.
"Come, perhaps we had better turn around, and walk this way," he said, suiting his action to the words.
"You know something, and you're trying to keep it from me, brother. That isn't fair. Tell me the worst, Bob! That rushing sound up on the wind—does that mean the woods are on fire?"
"That is just what it means, Sandy," said the other, "and we must run like mad now!"
"But this way is not the way home, Bob!" expostulated the younger lad, even as he clung close to the flying feet of his brother.
"True," Bob flung over his shoulder, while he ran on; "but it is away from the fire, and that must be enough for us now. Can you go any faster, Sandy?"
"I know what it is!" cried the other, his voice trembling under the great strain; "you mean that the noise is getting louder all the while! Then the fire must be gaining on us! We will be caught!"
"Oh! I do not say that," and Bob fell back a trifle so as to run alongside his companion; "but it is certainly advancing very fast and furiously. This wild wind whips it along much quicker than any man can run."
"Look!" cried Sandy, suddenly, "what is that over yonder? Surely it is a buffalo—two, three of them! And see how they gallop along, with their heads lowered, and the hot steam pouring from their nostrils!"
"They smell the smoke and hear the noise," Bob replied, speaking in jerks as he ran. "Perhaps they may never have seen a fire before, but they know what it means. And there goes a stag! Look at the tremendous leaps he is taking! No danger of his being caught by the flames!"
"Don't I wish we could run as fast! What a pair of horns for this time of year!" said Sandy, who knew that it was the season when stags lose their antlers, to be replaced with a new pair.
"Too bad we could not get one of those buffalo," observed Bob; "but it would be wicked to kill the poor beast when we could never save the meat. Let them live to another day."
"Yes, we have all we want to do now, trying to save ourselves," panted Sandy, who was not his brother's equal in running, and was already beginning to show evident signs of exhaustion.
Bob noticed this with increasing uneasiness.
"We can never get away by running," he declared, as he shortened his pace; and Sandy hastened to do likewise, with evident relief.
"Would it do to climb high up in a tree?" the latter hazarded at a venture.
"Not at all, for we should be smothered with the smoke, even if we managed to keep from being cured like bacon. But I was thinking that if only we could run across a hollow tree we might find refuge in it," said Bob, looking eagerly to the right and left.
Already the smoke, driven ahead of the flames, was beginning to make objects indistinct around them. It burned their eyes, and caused a shortness of breath that was a sample of what it might be when the full force of the forest fire swept down upon them.
"But suppose the tree caught fire, and burned," said Sandy, in bewilderment; "how could we save ourselves then?"
"You don't understand, Sandy," returned the other, quickly. "The trees will hardly burn at this season of the year, being full of sap. This fire is made up of all the dead leaves and ground stuff. It is fierce while it lasts; but it burns out in a short time. All we need is some shelter that can hold out against that wall of flame coming down on us."
Something in his brother's words caused Sandy to glance back just then. What the alarmed lad saw was a terrifying spectacle indeed. The fire was in sight, and coming on at headlong speed. The vast amount of dry material waiting to be snatched up by the leaping tongues of flame caused the fire to mount upward fully twenty feet in the air.
"It lies in both directions as far as I can see!" gasped Sandy, surprised at the extent of the conflagration that menaced them.
"Yes. I knew it, and that was why we could not get beyond the end of the line. That wind is something terrible. Look out for that herd of deer, brother; they are heading straight for us, crazed with fear!"
Just in time did Bob whirl in his tracks and fire his gun, almost in the faces of the onrushing group of maddened animals, and this action caused them to veer, so that they passed by without doing injury.
"Oh! what a narrow escape!" cried Sandy, who had been almost paralyzed by the nature of the sudden peril confronting them.
And now they saw all manner of frightened animals speeding away as fast as their legs could carry them. Besides, a flock of wild turkeys sprang up with a furious whirring of wings, and were gone like magic. Partridges sailed past the two boys in coveys. Here a pair of red foxes fairly flashed by, making incredible speed.
Everything seemed capable of getting out of the way of those greedy flames save the two young pioneers. It appeared at times to poor, impatient Sandy that they were having one of those ugly nightmares, where one's feet are glued to the ground, and all the while the peril plunges along toward the wretched dreamer.
"If we could only find a cave of any kind, it might keep us from getting scorched!" ventured Sandy presently, though he found he had to raise his voice considerably in order to be heard, so loud were those terrible noises that accompanied the rush of the fire wall.
"But there are none around here, for I have been looking," answered Bob.
"I saw lots a while ago, all sorts of queer holes in the ground and rocks. Oh! don't I wish we could find just one now!" cried the other.
"Ha! here is what we are looking for, a hollow tree trunk!" Bob shouted, just at that moment, when hope had well nigh deserted poor Sandy.
He dragged his brother over to the left, to where a rather large oak stood.
"I just happened to look back, and saw the opening. The tree is hollow, brother! Push in, and try to close the opening all you can, so as to keep out the smoke!"
Almost before he knew what Bob was about, Sandy found himself shoved through the rather narrow opening.
"But it is not big enough for two! We can never stay here, Bob. Help me out!" for all at once the lad realized what his brother meant to do.
Did he not know only too well the self-sacrificing devotion of Bob? The other meant that he should find possible safety in this snug retreat, while he took chances of discovering another hole in which to burrow. And if the fire rushed down upon him before this discovery could be made, what then? There would be only one of them go back to the new cabin in the clearing that looked out on the clear waters of the Ohio.
"Stay where you are, and do not move, on your life, or you will ruin all! There is another hollow tree for me! Remember mother, and do what I say!" And, giving Sandy a last push, Bob darted away.
Eagerly the boy, encased in the hollow tree, tried to follow his brother with his smarting eyes; but the smoke was growing very dense as well as pungent now, and he could hardly see at all for the tears that blinded him. So, not daring to disobey that last injunction on the part of Bob, whom he was accustomed to minding, he could only press his back into the cleft, to shut out the choking smoke, and count the seconds as they passed.
The fire was quickly all around him, and he could feel the fierce heat of the burning leaves. Fear for his own safety was almost entirely lost sight of in his anxiety concerning Bob. What if he had not been able to find a hiding-place after all, and was exposed to the full fury of that scorching blast!
The very thought made Sandy feel weak. He groaned in anguish, and, from the very depths of his boyish heart, a prayer went up for the safety of the brother whom he loved so well.
Meanwhile, what of Bob, who took his life in his hand, content to feel assured that at the worst Sandy would be saved?
When Bob declared so vehemently that there was another hollow tree for him near by he said that of which he was by no means certain. He did this in order that Sandy might not push out from his refuge, and insist on sharing his fate.
Of course he still had hopes that he might yet find some friendly shelter from the flames; and, as he rushed along, his eyes sought every tree he passed, hoping thus to discover an opening, into which he might crowd himself, and bid the flames defiance.
But the precious seconds were passing, and, as yet, he had found no shelter.
Twice had he caught sight of what seemed a chance; but upon rushing up to the tree, his heart beating high with anticipation, it was only to discover that the split was not nearly large enough to allow of the passage of his body, and seconds were too valuable just then to dream of trying to slash at the wood with his sharp hunting knife in the hope of enlarging the opening.
Long before he could do this the threatening billow of fire must have reached the spot, and passed over him, so, in despair, he rushed along, his eyes now even scanning the ground for some log behind which he might crawl.
"Oh!" cried Bob suddenly, as his glance caught a dark opening in a half-dead tree trunk.
It was some little distance from the ground, possibly ten feet or more, but as a few limbs remained on the decayed forest monarch, once blasted by a wind-storm while in its prime, he believed he might readily reach the friendly crevice ere the flames took hold upon his buckskin garments.
Bob was almost exhausted from his violent exertions; but he certainly gave no evidence of the fact, to judge from the way in which he ran to that tree and commenced to clamber into the lower branches.
Burning leaves were already being swept past him on the breath of the wind, to drop into new magazines of dry tinder, and start additional fires ahead of the main blaze.
Madly did he climb upward, and never would he forget the sight that met his eyes while making for that promised haven of refuge. As far as he could see, both to the east and to the west, that bank of leaping roaring flame held sway. Once Bob had been taken down to the sea by his father, and he had never forgotten how the great waves came sweeping resistlessly on, to break with a crash on the shore. So, in his mind, appeared those onrolling billows of fire.
He could hardly breathe now. That was because of the heat and smoke combined. A great fear possessed him that perhaps after he had reached this dark cleft in the tree he might find it utterly impossible to push his way past the guarding portals. In that case all was lost, and he need not even mind dropping back to the ground, for the end would find him where he was.
But at least that fear was quickly laid to rest.
"It's plenty big enough!" he cried aloud in his new delight, for the opening was now only a couple of feet away from his hands.
After that all he had to do was to cram his body through the hole, and find the shelter he craved.
"Hurrah!"
Somehow he could not help giving vent to that boyish shout at the prospect of cheating the fire out of its anticipated prey, although he really had little breath to spare just then. He even fixed it in his mind just how he must first of all thrust his lower limbs through the opening, and then allow himself to slide downwards, for he could already see that the hole extended toward the earth.
It was not the first time Bob Armstrong found his nice little calculations upset by circumstances utterly beyond his control. Perhaps it would not be the last, either, since he expected to spend the major portion of his life roving the wilderness, in search of game, and in such labor as became a true pioneer.
Just as Bob reached the hole in the tree he became conscious of the fact that the old stump was being violently agitated, as though some one were climbing up below him. He even glanced down, filled with a dread lest Sandy had after all disobeyed, and chased after him.
Then something else attracted his attention and he raised his eyes, to make a most unpleasant discovery.
The hole in the tree was no longer vacant, but a bristling black head and a pair of very frightened eyes met his startled gaze!
The bear looked at Bob; and Bob stared at the bear.
It was a mutual surprise, though on the whole, perhaps, the animal was the more astonished, since up to this time he could not have had any inkling of the tremendous things that were occurring so near his home.
He blinked his little eyes as the glare of the great conflagration dazzled his vision; but at the same time there was not the faintest indication that Mr. Bruin thought of dropping back into his snug retreat.
Here was a pretty kettle of fish, with the bear wanting to come out, and Bob just as set upon going in. Evidently there was a conflict of opinions as to the proper thing to do when the forest took to blazing. Bruin believed flight might serve him best; while the young pioneer knew positively that in his case it would not answer at all.
Of course, when he first caught sight of that black muzzle, the boy had given a low cry of alarm. Possibly Mr. Bear had never up to now heard a human voice save, it might be, the war whoop of the red man. It did not seem, however, to deter him in the least from trying to carry out his original plan.
He began to move upward, and Bob could hear his sharp claws digging into the interior of the stump, assisting his progress.
The situation needed prompt measures for relief. To drop down again to the ground was not to be considered for a moment, since there was the advancing fire to consider.
Fortunately Bob was a quick thinker, and often did things on the spur of the moment, as though acting from intuition rather than after deliberation and planning.
Let the bear come out, if that was his intention! Not for the whole world would he offer the slightest objection to such a process, for he wanted that snug den in the stump, and he wanted it more, apparently, than the beast did.
At the same time a collision was not at all to his liking. He had his gun strapped to his back, and was therefore in no condition to defend himself.
The only way to avoid a meeting was to give the beast plenty of room. Undoubtedly the bear was growing frantic with fear at sight of the fire. Some inward sense told Bruin that the gravest danger of his whole life now faced him, and, unable to understand that the safest course would have been to drop back inside his fortress and let the hurricane of fire sweep past, he was bent on fleeing before the gale.
Of course it would prove a fatal error of judgment for the animal, but what was Bruin's loss might be Bob's gain.
Already his head and shoulders had issued from the hole, and he was surging forward, intent on one thing, which was to quit his quarters as speedily as his huge bulk would permit it.
Bob swung himself half way around the trunk of the tree. He found it rather difficult to hang on, but, being tenacious by nature, and a good climber, he clung desperately to what stubs of branches he found there.
Would the beast follow after him, bent on making an attack on the bold two-legged enemy that had ventured to brazenly face him at the mouth of his private castle?
Bob had little fear of this. He believed the bear was too much alarmed by the unusual spectacle of the woods afire, and was seized with the same sort of panic that had sent buffalo, stags, wolves, foxes and even a gray panther bounding along to leeward as fast as their muscles could drive them.
He knew when Bruin had managed to drag his entire bulk out from the enclosure, for the scene was by this time as well lighted up as though the sun shone through the eddying smoke clouds, only it was a red, angry glare, peculiarly terrifying.
Yes, thank goodness, the beast was scurrying down the trunk of the old tree as fast as he possibly could. Fright urged him on, and Bob could not help adding to the situation by giving a shrill whoop.
"Thank you, sir; with your leave I will tumble into your late berth," he exclaimed, as he struggled to pass around the stump again, in order to reach the opening.
Short as was the time consumed in doing this, when he reached the gap in the trunk the bear had already tumbled to the ground. Bob heard the beast give utterance to a subdued roar, as though some of the flying leaves that were afire might have alighted on his hairy hide; then the black beast galloped madly off, heading in a direct line away from the approaching fire.
But well did Bob know that, unless Bruin had some near-by cave in mind when he thus scampered off, the chances were ten to one he would roast in the conflagration, since he could never hope to outstrip its onward rush.
Bob did not stop to see anything more just then. The air was already scorching, the smoke blinding, and there was danger lest his garments take fire unless he speedily dropped out of reach of the flying leaves.
Of course there was only one way in which to properly enter that hole in the old tree trunk. That was feet first, just as the original proprietor of the den had been in the habit of doing.
Regardless of almost everything else save the fact that he was in a tremendous hurry, the boy pushed his figure through the aperture. Since there was nothing to which he could apply his moccasined toes, in order to stay his downward movement, the consequence of haste was that Bob took a quick passage to the very bottom of the tree trunk.
Beyond a few minor scratches, however, he did not think that he had received any hurt, and such trifles were not to be considered, when he had such a serious problem at stake as saving his life.
Looking upward he could see the opening, for through it glowed the light of the conflagration. From this he was able to judge that the aperture must be some five feet above his head.
There was ample room in the stump's interior for the boy to move around, and, on the whole, he did not doubt but that it had formed quite a pleasant den in which a bear could hibernate through the long winter.
Already could he hear the roar of the flames all around him. Really, the sound was rather terrifying, though he knew full well it would be quickly over.
At least there was now no fear of the bear returning. That possibility had worried Bob for a brief period, since it would be very inconvenient to have had the singed animal dropping down upon him in that confined space.
"Phew! but it's getting warm in here!" he could not help exclaiming, as the perspiration began to ooze from his pores, and he found himself actually panting for breath.
He judged that by now he was in the worst of the fire. This meant that it would have swept past the tree in another couple of minutes, and after that the heat must gradually decrease.
Yes, already he felt sure that the loud roaring was growing sensibly less. The wave of fire had passed on, snatching up new supplies of dry fuel as it rushed along its way on the teeth of the wind.
More than once his thoughts had gone out to Sandy.
"Oh! I hope he stayed where I put him, and that all is well," he kept repeating to himself, as he sweltered in his hot oven.
Surely it ought to be getting much more comfortable by now; and yet Bob could not positively say that he felt any cooling influence.
Perhaps he would be wise to climb upward toward the exit, ready to thrust his head out, and see how the land lay. No sooner had this idea flashed upon him than he started to carry it out, only to make a very unpleasant discovery.
He groped around him, seeking to find some projection that would give a grip or a foothold, but only to meet with grievous disappointment.
"Why, what shall I do?" he cried aloud, in his sudden chagrin. "The inside of this old tree is as smooth as an otter slide! And I have no claws, like the bear, to help me climb up!"
He tried pushing his back against one side of the hollow, while with his knees and hands he pressed against the opposite wall. It was a favorite trick which Bob had carried out successfully on more than one occasion. Somehow it did not seem to work now.
Whether in his excitement he failed to take advantage of every little gain, or because the bear in his frequent passage up and down had polished the chute so that it was impossible for the boy to hold on, was a question Bob never found himself fully qualified to answer.
All he knew was that three times he managed to get up a little distance, only to suddenly slide down again and land in a heap at the bottom.
His failures were discouraging, to say the least. The worst of it all was that there did not seem to be any hope that, even given time, he could manage to accomplish the task, unless he took out his knife and deliberately hacked notches in the sides of his prison upon which he could rest his toes.
That would take hours of time; and meanwhile what of Sandy?
"I'll give it another try," he muttered, loth to confess himself beaten, "and then, if I fail to make it, something else must be done, for out of this I'm going to get, by hook or by crook!"
This time he took particular pains in his movements. Inch by inch he kept advancing by that shuffling movement that always pushed his figure away from the ground.
Hope even began to find a lodgment in his breast, for the bottom of the aperture seemed now within a foot of his reach, and, once let him get a grip on that, he could count the battle won.
Then again there came a miscalculation, a trifling slip that upset his gravity, and once more poor Bob went plunging down to the bottom, worse off than ever.
He actually grunted and groaned as he sat there, feeling to see if he had received any more damage than a few bruises from this heavy fall.
And, strange to say, his back seemed to trouble him more than any other part of his body.
"Feels as if I had started to roast along my spine," he said, as he found his buckskin tunic exceedingly hot when he laid a hand on it.
Then, all at once, the truth burst upon him.
"The old stump is afire! That's what that flashing means I saw through the opening! Why, I may be roasted here after all! What can I do?" he asked himself, once more struggling to his feet, and forgetting all his minor injuries as he contemplated this serious condition.
To find out if his suspicion were true he started placing his hand at various spots along the inside of the tree trunk, and, from the intense heat, he found little hope that he had made a mistake.
Was it worth while trying again to mount upward? Could he dig his toes into the smooth walls with enough vigor to sustain his weight? Four failures rather dampened his ardor along this line.
His groping hand came in contact with his musket, which he had thrown aside on first finding himself caged in this trap. It had been leaning against the side of his prison all the while. To fire it would be useless, for who was there to come to his assistance?
Suppose he managed to climb up again as far as on the last disastrous occasion, could he get any support by placing the butt of the gun upward, as a rest for one foot?
It was a last desperate resort, and poor Bob shuddered at pressing his already tortured back against that heated wooden funnel. If there were only some other way by which he might hope to gain the outer air, how gladly would he welcome it!
Just then he noticed something—he had really seen it before, but paid little attention to the fact, being wholly taken up with the idea of reaching the hole above.
And, while this new sight did not seem to hold out any positive chances for an escape from his burning prison, Bob believed that it might be worth throwing all his last efforts into this new channel.
The old tree trunk was slowly giving way to the demands of Nature. It had a split up and down one side, where doubtless the wood was rotting away. Bob could see out of it—see the gray, smoky landscape, still lighted by flashes of fire. During the progress of the fire he had even watched the roaring whirlwind sweep past; and then forgotten all about this crevice in his mad desire to climb up to the hole that served as the bear's exit.
The thought that came to him was this—that perhaps with the aid of his sharp hunting knife, and a set determination to bring about results, he might manage to enlarge this narrow opening enough to admit of his bursting forth!
He did not lose another second in wondering whether it could be done. There was absolutely nothing else for him to try, if he hoped to keep from being slowly suffocated in that prison cell. He could do it, he must do it!
When he set to work, he found at once that the wood was inclined to be soft and wormy, especially close to the crack. Time had overcome the hardness of the oak, and under his vigorous assault it fairly crumbled away in sections.
After what may have been a minute's labor but which seemed much longer, Bob was able to thrust his whole arm through the cleft he had made.
At that rate he would soon be free. The very thought gave him new energy, and he went at the task even more fiercely than before. But somehow his rate of progress did not seem to increase in proportion to the extra vim he threw into the work.
Evidently the deeper he cut, the harder the wood became. It was decayed only along the crevice!
Realizing this, he now turned his attention to the other side, and for a brief time all went smoothly, progress being rapid. Now he could even thrust a leg out of his cell. Twice that dimension, and the gap would be large enough to admit of the passage of his entire body.
But surely it was getting much hotter inside the stump. The fire had taken hold in earnest. He believed that the flames must be curling around the old tree, and mounting upward while they fed upon the dead wood.
It mattered not just then that his hand grew sore from constant friction with the rough buck-horn handle of his knife. Such little things could not count when everything depended on his making a success of his effort.
Just then Bob needed all the encouragement he could find. He realized this, and to try and cheer up his drooping spirits he started talking to himself while he worked, even laughing from time to time.
It encouraged him, and could do no harm.
"That was a good slice, Bob!" he went on, just as though it might be his mother speaking, "Keep it up, my boy! You're just bound to break out of this smoke-stack soon! Nothing can stop you, now you've got started in the right direction. Hey! almost dropped my knife outside that time. Gracious! what if it had gone beyond my reach! You must be more careful after this, Robert, my lad!"
He sliced away, and the opening grew wider; but, oh! how slowly its dimensions increased, and how much hotter did the air seem all around him!
Was it fated that he should be smothered here, suffocated by the pungent smoke that caught his breath, and seemed to choke him? He would not allow himself to give way to even the thought of such a horrible thing.
"Sure you will get through, Bob!" he shouted, as he kept working away with every atom of strength. "Why, the hole must be mighty near big enough now for you to slip through. Sandy could do it, I know, and I'm not much stouter than he. Just hold out a little longer, boy! Keep at it, and success must come."
His knife was no longer keen, since its working edge had been worn away against the tough wood; but, under the efforts Bob put into his work, it still sliced off shavings with every downward movement.
He thrust his head forward, more in the desire to suck in some of the outer air than because he expected to be able to pass it through the opening.
A thrill shook his whole frame when he found that he could thus thrust his head completely out of the prison cell. Seized with a new hope he began wriggling his body sideways, his right shoulder first of all being pushed through.
And though it proved a tremendous task, and a tight fit, Bob managed to press completely through the narrow aperture! He fell in a heap on the ground, almost done for, yet with a feeling of thanksgiving. And his second thought was of that mother who he knew full well would be heartbroken should anything happen to either Sandy or himself.
Although Bob had apparently collapsed after bursting out from his strange prison, he did not long remain there on the earth.
"I must be up and doing," he cried, as he struggled to gain his feet.
There was Sandy to think of, and, besides, it was quite too hot so close to the burning stump. How he longed for a cool drink to moisten his parched throat!
"My gun! I could not think of leaving that behind!" he exclaimed, turning back once more, after starting to leave the scene of his singular adventure.
Throwing himself down on the ground, he pushed close up to the tree and inserted his arm, groping in the quarter where he remembered his musket had last stood. At first he failed to touch it.
"Why, that's odd," he exclaimed, dismayed at the idea of losing his precious weapon, for another could not probably have been obtained in its place for long, weary months.
Perhaps, after all, it happened to be just out of reach of his fingers. Thinking thus, Bob snatched up a piece of wood that had escaped the ground conflagration. It was about a foot or so in length, and afforded him the assistance he needed.
"There it is, if I can only start it coming this way!" he observed, still imbibing renewed courage from his habit of talking to himself.
It proved that he could readily manage to move the heavy gun; and almost immediately his eager fingers were clutching the butt of the musket.
"Now, after all, I'm little the worse off for it all," declared Bob, as he hastened to scramble further away from the pillar of fire before rising to his feet; "and the next thing is—Sandy!"
He seemed to feel a sudden sinking in the region of his heart just at thought of his brother, and yet, if the boy had followed his instructions to the letter, surely no ill could have overwhelmed him.
"That tree was sounder than the one where the bear had his den," he kept muttering to himself as he hurried along over the blackened ground in the direction where he believed he must find the hollow oak given over to Sandy; "and after it was all over he could come out much easier than I did. But why have I not heard his signal call? Would he not follow after the fire, seeking some sign of me?"
Bob had just come through a very extraordinary adventure, for some time his life had actually hung in the balance; but he quickly forgot all about this in the new anxiety about his brother.
More than once he had to cast about him to be sure that he was heading the right way. Somehow, since the fire had burned over the ground, eating up the masses of dead leaves and other inflammable growths, things did not look the same as before.
"But the wind came down from the north," he kept saying, as he pushed doggedly on over the smoking ground; "and that is the way I'm going back now. Only, I seem to be in a new part of the forest, things look so different. But hold on, Bob, there's that cross formed by two trees that fell toward each other. I remember that plainly, and it was just after I left Sandy, too."
Now he was sure that the hollow tree must be somewhere close by. He raised his voice, and called the name of his brother.
"Sandy! Hello! where are you?"
Through the desolate forest, with its blackened carpet, the sound of his voice came back to mock him. Nothing else responded to his hail.
Louder than before he shouted, but there was no answering call. Bob again felt that terrible chill in the region of his heart. A brief time before, and he had been apparently burning up; now he was shivering.
"There it is!" he suddenly cried, as he happened to let his wandering gaze fall upon a tree that seemed to have a gap in its side.
He hurried forward. Even as he advanced other familiar things greeted him, so that his last lingering doubt vanished.
"It's the tree, surely," he muttered, straining his eyes to see within, and almost holding his very breath lest he discover a motionless figure in the cavity.
But it was empty!
At least Sandy had not been smothered by the dense smoke; he must have left his retreat.
"Oh! I hope he stayed here until the worst was over!" was the cry that burst from the boy, as he stood there, staring into the empty cache, which he had intended to be a means of life-saving to his brother.
He turned and looked around. There did not seem to be a living thing in sight. Animals and birds had all been driven away by the fire, which was doubtless still rushing through the woods far to the south.
Was it worth while to call out again? Surely if Sandy had been within half a mile of him he must have heard that last shout!
Puzzled, and sorely distressed, Bob hardly knew what to do. He even looked again into the hollow tree, as though in that way he might receive an answer to his question as to what had become of his brother.
And he did.
For, when he looked down, he saw that there had gathered quite a quantity of dead wood within the cavity. It had not dried out since the last rain, some time before, which must have driven into the cleft. And plainly he could see marks there that must have been made by Sandy!
This gave him an idea, and he wondered why he had not thought of it before. Of what use was his forest training if he could not ascertain whether Sandy had issued from the tree before, or after, the fire?
Down he dropped on his hands and knees. The very first thing he discovered was the positive impression made by one of his brother's new moccasins, given to him by Colonel Boone before the great hunter had said good-bye.
It was plainly made after the fire had passed, of that Bob felt certain; and the fact gave him the keenest of pleasure, since it assured him of Sandy's having passed through the siege unharmed.
But why had he not answered his shouts? Where could he have wandered to, that he failed to hear a far-reaching hail, such as the strong lungs of his brother had sent sounding through the forest?