As this thrilling cry rang through the settlement, supplemented by the wild peals of the alarm bell in the block house, all the inmates of David Armstrong’s cabin were on their feet.
Sleep had been banished as if by magic; indeed, the boys had never felt more wide-awake in all their lives. And there was plenty to do, as well as willing hands with which to accomplish the labor.
Fortunate indeed did it prove that everybody had anticipated this sudden necessity, and that the scanty household goods, some of them precious only through their associations with that Virginia of the past, had been so packed that they could be carried to higher ground, and a place of safety, in a very brief time.
Indeed, so rapidly was the water coming up now, that, by the time the last piece had been taken from the Armstrong cabin it commenced to trickle over the door-sill. Bob’s last visit was made with more or less splashing, as he strode around the familiar interior, now looking so strange with the floor covered by the flood.
Some of the settlers, Mr. Armstrong among them, had made use of the strongest ropes they could obtain, to tie their cabins to convenient trees, hoping that in this way they might add to their security. When the strength of the current and the hulk of those log cabins was taken into consideration, however, this hope did not have a great deal to rest upon.
There now seemed nothing left to do but cluster there beyond the edge of the river, and take note of its constant rise. All whose cabins were in danger had saved their goods, and in this considered themselves lucky. New cabins could of course be built, since there was wood in plenty, and stout arms to swing the axe; but these family possessions could never have been replaced.
There was one little consolation, slender though it might appear; the clouds had finally broken, and the stars were shining. It seemed almost as though the myriad bright eyes of heaven were peeping out, to see the extent of the damage and woe that had been wrought.
Unable to stand quiet and watch the raging waters creep up around the walls of their late home, the Armstrong boys joined the group not far away. Fires had been lighted, and the glow of these added to the weirdness of the scene, as the settlers moved to and fro, comparing notes, trying to find comfort in their mutual troubles, and seizing on the slightest grain of hope afforded by reports that the crest of the rise must surely have come, after which the waters would go down again.
“What is Pat O’Mara talking so fiercely about?” asked Bob, as he joined the group, after having been off to see how things were getting on in the direction of the river; and Sandy, who had remained where most of the homeless families had congregated, turned with a frown on his face.
“It is about those miserable French trappers,” he replied.
“But what of them?” persisted Bob; “surely we need not fear their setting fire to our cabin just now; and even Pat, who hates those men so much, could not well accuse them of having turned this water loose.”
“That is all very true, Bob; but one of the settlers has just mentioned the fact that he felt almost positive he ran across two men, dressed like trappers, who were hurrying away from the settlement. He called out to them, thinking that they might be friends, but they paid no heed to his hail. And, as he got to thinking the matter over, all at once it struck him who they must have been.”
“When was it that he saw them?” demanded Bob, immediately concerned.
“It may have been an hour or so ago; about the time the water was rising around our cabin, and, unable to bear the sight, we came here,” Sandy replied. “They are all wondering what could have brought those men here at such a time; and every one seems to think that it must have been the hope of laying their hands on some valuables, while the settlers were given up to excitement.”
“That looks like it, Sandy,” the other replied, quickly. “All have piled up whatever they possess in a heap, not caring where it lies so long as the waters cannot carry it off. But people are there on the watch all the time, and children snuggled down in the midst of the bedclothes; so it doesn’t seem as if those men could find much worth carrying off.”
“Well, Pat is as angry as a bull at sight of a red kerchief,” Sandy continued. “You know how he hates and despises everything that is French. He vows that, if he can only get one glimpse of either Jacques or Henri, his rifle will speak; and it seldom does that without something dropping.”
“Were they leaving the settlement at the time this man saw them?” asked Bob.
“That was what he thought,” his brother replied. “When he called out, they seemed to hasten their footsteps, as though fearful that he might try to detain them. He says he stood and wondered who they could be, and why they refused to answer his hail. It was only when too late that the truth flashed into his mind.”
“Well, if they are gone, let us hope it is for good,” remarked Bob.
“But why should they be around here at all, when they know the hostility of the English settlers toward the French?” asked Sandy. “It is always war between them, and especially in the wilderness where the trap lines run. Each claims all the country between here and the Mississippi; together with all the fur-bearing animals that can be found there. And that dispute will never be settled without a bloody war.”
“Perhaps they meant to either try and rob some of the settlers here, or else set fire to our home,” Bob ventured to say. “The coming of the flood changed their plans; and, as the people were all aroused, they must have decided that it was too dangerous for them to stay around here. And so, at the time they were seen, Jacques and Henri may have been scuttling out.”
“How is it at the cabin?” asked Sandy, with a tremor in his voice; for, truth to tell, he felt the impending catastrophe even more than his brother did, and could not bear to look upon what seemed to be the doom of their home.
“I’m sorry to say the water seems still to be rising, and we must not allow ourselves to cling to much hope that it can be saved,” was Bob’s reply. “I feel more for mother and Kate than the rest of us. They sit there among our goods, white of face, but trying to bear up. Father cheers them with a few words every now and then; but they know he only talks that way because he cannot bear to see them so miserable, and not that he really believes the flood is at a standstill.”
“Poor father and mother, they have had so many things to bear with,” said Sandy. “We must try to look cheerful, just for their sakes. And besides, you know, at the worst it may mean a change of base for us, Bob.”
“I know what you are thinking of, Sandy,” the other remarked, with a shake of his head. “That Mississippi idea will not let go of you.”
“But others are really talking about it right now, Bob, I tell you,” Sandy insisted, earnestly. “You would be surprised to know how many heads of families are thinking that it would be a splendid undertaking to leave this country, where misfortune has overtaken them, and go further into the golden west. There was Mr. Harness for one, Mr. Bancroft for another, and possibly Mr. Wayne. Something seems to tell me, brother, that the coming of this flood, terrible though it appears, will be the very means of making our father decide to go upon this undertaking. Oh! I hope so! I hope so! I surely know that it would be for the best; and that we could have a homestead in that beautiful wilderness out yonder, that would far exceed anything ever known along the Ohio, with its floods and troublesome Indians.”
“When father makes his mind up, then will be the time for the rest of us to say what we think,” Bob observed. “But we must wait and see. Perhaps, when the waters go down again, our neighbors will forget what they said this night, and think it best to rebuild, if their homes have been swept away.”
“Come, let us go over, and comfort our mother again,” Sandy suggested.
“A good idea,” returned Bob. “This is a time for us to try to look cheerful, as you say. We are young, and can stand hardships easily; but our parents are growing old now, and such things weigh heavily on them. I’m with you; lead the way.”
They found Mrs. Armstrong and Kate apparently hunting through the pile of household goods for something that seemed to be missing.
“What is it, mother?” asked Sandy, quickly, scenting possible trouble.
“I cannot find my little treasure box, in which I kept what few valuables I possessed, as well as your wampum belt which Pontiac gave you as a pledge of his constant good will,” Mrs. Armstrong replied. “And, come to think of it, did any of you bring it out of the cabin? You know I kept it on that small shelf above the window.”
The two boys looked at each other in dismay. There was no need to ask if either had seen the box of valuables, for the expression on their faces told the story.
“It must be in the cabin still, then!” exclaimed Sandy.
Forgetting his lame ankle, he turned and hurried away, impulsive as ever; and Mrs. Armstrong wrung her hands as she appealed to Bob to stop him.
“Much as I value the things that are in that little box, not for ten times their worth would I have one of my boys imperil his life in the effort to save them. Go as fast as you can, then, Bob, and hold your hasty brother in check before he takes that dreadful risk!”
Hardly waiting to hear the last word, Bob was off like a shot. He was just in time, for as he came upon Sandy the latter had reached the edge of the water, and was about to start boldly into the swift current, meaning to swim out to the half-submerged cabin.
Bob gripped him by the arm, and shouted in his ear:
“You must not go out there, Sandy, mother says! It would be an act of madness. Already the water is over our heads; and look at the way the cabin trembles with the force of the current. It may be carried away at any minute!”
And Sandy, with a groan, let his head drop until his chin rested on his chest, for he saw that Bob spoke truly.
“Oh! there goes the Hutchinson cabin, swept away down the river!” arose a cry from near by; and, looking out, the boys saw that it was indeed too true.
With the rising of the water the stout cabin had finally been lifted from its foundations, and, the last they saw of it, the current was making a plaything of what had only a short time before been a happy home.
“Ours may be the next!” was Sandy’s choking exclamation, as he and Bob continued to stand there and watch.
Every time there was a lurch to the log building that seemed to presage its destruction, Sandy would press his hand over his eyes, as though he could not bear the sight; and a moment later the cheering voice of his brother would assure him that the peril had passed, at least for that time, as the sturdily-built cabin still held out.
So the early dawn found the dismal settlement on the bank of the Ohio.
Men stood moodily about, watching the destruction of their homes, and feeling very bitter toward the river that was robbing them so mercilessly. Again and again did some one turn the conversation to that subject which had engrossed the mind of Sandy Armstrong for so long—the charms of the rich land to be found away off toward the region of the setting sun, where the Mississippi rolled its mighty flood, and abundance awaited the coming of bold pioneers capable of turning the black soil that would grow fabulous crops.
One spoke of the vast herds of buffaloes that roamed unhindered through the aisles of the dense forests; another had heard stories about the vast quantities of the most valuable fur-bearing animals ever seen, and which could be easily captured by energetic trappers.
“And the Indians are not of the same bloodthirsty stripe as the Shawanees, the Iroquois, and the Delawares, with whom we have been constantly threatened,” was the argument a third settler advanced.
Sandy hovered around whenever the talk trended this way, eagerly drinking in all that was said. He believed that, if only that wonderful young forest ranger, Simon Kenton, were present, he would willingly join his fortunes with a party that might be made up to start toward the distant goal, as soon as a suitable flatboat could be built. And Sandy only wished he might see the tall, sinewy figure of the indomitable Kenton striding toward the fire at that very moment; since his coming would certainly sway the weak members of the party toward a conclusion.
Abijah Cook, the toothless old ranger, who had been entrusted with the task of keeping track of the river’s rise, came hastening toward the gathering at this time. There was something about the way in which he swung his old coonskin cap that aroused the curiosity of the disconsolate settlers.
“Abijah brings good news!” some one called out, as the hunter drew near.
“The river is surely at a stand!” called the man who swung his hunter’s cap so vigorously. “For this half hour it has only risen an inch!”
“Then the worst must be over!” exclaimed a distracted father, hurrying off to see if his cabin had stood through that period of stress and strain.
It was a scene they would never forget that greeted the eyes of the pioneers as the day came on.
Five cabins were no longer where they had been at the close of the preceding day. They had fallen victims to the insatiable maw of the river, and by this time must have been scattered over miles of the watercourse, as roof and walls were torn apart by the force of the current.
Sandy was in a fever of suspense. He came back again and again to see if their cabin still resisted the grip of the flood.
“There is a chance that it will hold out to the end!” he cried, as the boys stood there and watched the trembling roof of the home. “And, if it does, why we can easily find mother’s little treasure box, with the valuables she thinks so much of; and then there is our wampum belt, which Pontiac gave us with his own hands, to show all Indians, who might threaten us, that we were the friends and brothers of the sachem. Oh! I would feel pretty bad, I tell you, if that should be lost.”
“So would I, Sandy,” replied Bob; “because we’ve depended on that belt to keep the torch away from our settlement. Once it is lost, we are no better off than Boonesborough, or any other place around which the Indians constantly hover, ready to use bullets or arrows or torch upon the unsuspicious settlers. But, Sandy, cheer up. If the cabin does hold out to the end, we are sure to find the treasure box again; for you know it would float on the water, and could hardly escape from the interior, since the door is shut.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking, Bob,” returned the other. “But when will the water go down enough for us to cross over and find out the truth? Every minute seems like a whole hour to me; and the hours are like days.”
“Well, we can’t hurry the old river a bit by getting excited,” Bob continued, knowing of old the nervous nature of his brother; “so the best we can do is to try to make our mother and sister comfortable. They have gone into the blockhouse, you see, and it is there we must carry some of our belongings; for the women and children will have to sleep there for some days. Even the cabins that are left standing will be so water-soaked that it would never do for children to sleep in them until they are dried out by fires.”
And so, in this labor of love, even Sandy was enabled to forget, for a time at least, his troubles and anxieties.
The river, while at a stand, had not as yet started to go down, though by night, the older and more experienced among the settlers declared, they might expect to see some difference in the height of the waters.
Many anxious eyes were cast upward toward the heavens during the morning; and hardly a fleecy cloud that came sailing into sight but was viewed with more or less fear, lest it turn into a vapory billow that would quickly overspread the blue arch, and let down another torrential rain.
But the air was clear and crisp, and in truth it had apparently cleared up for good, as if Nature were satisfied with the damage already wrought.
The big blockhouse had been built with the thought that, in case of an Indian attack, it would be called on to hold all in the little settlement. Around it a high stockade or palisade had been erected, behind the shelter of which the defenders might hold their own against the crafty foe, shooting through loopholes that had been made for guns.
It was a two-story affair, the upper projecting a foot or more beyond the lower, as was the ease with most blockhouses built in those dark days, when enemies were apt to spring up in a night, surrounding the fort, and striving by every device known to savage ingenuity to encompass its destruction.
There were small openings in the floor of this second story where it overlapped the lower walls, and through these the defenders might protect the log foundations from being set on fire by the red fiends who had besieged the occupants, and were bent on their destruction.
After all, it could be made fairly comfortable, and, as there is more or less consolation in having companions in misery, the women were beginning to pluck up a little heart, looking to the coming of better times.
Those whose homes had been carried away were promised the assistance of every strong arm in the community, in the effort to provide them with new cabins, for, being so utterly aloof from contact with civilization, the pioneers were dependent on one another for everything that went to make up life.
Of course the boys could not long keep away from the bank, where they might look out toward the upper part of their submerged cabin and speculate on its ability to hold out to the end.
As the day wore on their hopes kept rising and falling. Sandy, in particular, changed his mind about every ten minutes. Now he was certain that the good old cabin was bound to defy the power of the flood to move it from its foundations; then again he would call out that he feared it must be about to give up the fight, because he had seen its walls shake in a way that told they were near collapse.
But noon came and went, and found things just about the same as when dawn broke over the cheerless scene. True, another cabin had succumbed to the rush of swirling water, so that six in all had been destroyed; but that circumstance alone need not fill them with dismay, since new abodes could be erected, before many weeks had passed, that would in all probability be an improvement on the old.
Around the fires the men gathered in clusters to talk over the situation, and exchange opinions. And every time Bob chanced to draw near one of these groups he discovered, to his surprise, that much of the talk was about the chances of a venturesome party reaching the fertile prairie land away off to the west, by following the course of the Ohio.
Apparently, then, Sandy had spoken truly when he declared that the seed had taken root in the hearts of several of the heads of families; and Bob found that even his own father seemed to be as deeply interested in the project as any of the others.
The very idea gave Bob a thrill. To the bold pioneer, be he boy or man, there is always something very fascinating about heading into the unknown land. Somewhere ahead there always exists a wonderful country where marvellous things may be done. Just as the lure of gold led men to cross the wide plains to California so this feverish desire to possess the land appealed to our forefathers, and tempted them to brave the perils that lay in wait along unknown trails, all leading westward.
Some of the men who had lost their hard-earned homes were especially bitter concerning the location which had been picked out for them by Daniel Boone; just as though the frontiersman could ever have foreseen such an astonishing rise of the river as this flood had been, greater, the Indians declared, than had ever been known before, as far back as their traditions went.
But these grumblers declared that the place must have some sort of curse resting upon it. They had met with troubles without end ever since coming across the mountains to the new country on the Ohio.
To continue to bear up under the oppressive yoke was asking too much of them; and, as they scorned the very idea of returning to Virginia, there seemed but one alternative, which was to move on further into the wilderness, found a new home there, and profit by being the first English families to penetrate that hitherto unsettled region.
After they had eaten some lunch, which made things appear a bit more cheerful, as a meal always does, the boys again wandered down to the edge of the river, to look out over the flowing tide, and speculate on its fast subsidence; for they had made marks themselves, and knew by these that the flood was losing its grip.
Sandy was feeling much more cheerful now. He even expressed the opinion that they were sure to find the little treasure box floating around inside the cabin, once they could get out to see. And certainly the precious wampum belt, that spelled safety for the Armstrong family, no matter what tribe of Indians they happened to meet, could not be much injured by a mere soaking.
Bob had heard the changes rung upon this subject half a dozen times during that half of a day; and he fully anticipated finding his brother breaking out into another lament before half an hour had passed, as the whim seized him.
Nor was he mistaken about this, though the cause came from a quarter least expected. It was while the boys were standing there, watching the flow of the flood, and commenting on the fine stand taken by the Armstrong cabin, which must always reflect credit on its builders, themselves included, that Sandy gave a sudden exclamation that seemed to sound an alarm.
“After all,” he cried out, in a distressed tone, “we have been building our hopes on a sandy foundation. The dear old cabin has stood up against all the pull of the river; but, see yonder, there comes a great tree floating down, as if it was in a mill race; and as sure as anything it’s headed straight for our poor home. Once that strikes against the wall, we can say good-bye to the Armstrong cabin. Oh! it’s hard to have to stand here, and not be able to lift a hand to save mother’s home!”
There was nothing that mortal hand could do to ward off the impending peril that threatened to take the Armstrong cabin down the river, after those of the other settlers that had gone before.
That huge forest monarch was coming along with majestic power, borne on the swift current, and apparently headed straight for the half-submerged cabin that had made such a gallant fight against heavy odds.
“If it hits the cabin, there can be but one end!” Bob was forced to say aloud.
“But is there any chance at all that it may pass by without striking?” demanded Sandy, unconsciously gripping the sleeve of his brother’s fringed hunting coat in his excitement, while his eyes were glued to the fearful object that was causing this new alarm in his heart.
“A small one; hardly enough to build on,” replied Bob, soberly. “It all depends on the current right here. I noticed some time ago that it seems to make a sharp swerve away from the shore. Perhaps that may be just enough to send the tree on a new tack, and spare our cabin.”
“Oh! I hope so; I hope so!” murmured Sandy.
“But we shall know the worst in another minute,” declared Bob; “for it is coming along pretty fast now.”
The two boys stood there, almost holding their breath in suspense, their eyes fixed on the object that held so much terror for them. Of course they would hate to see the dear old cabin go; but, after all, that was not what gave them the most concern. There was that little treasure box, that held the few valuables of their mother; and, besides, that precious belt, which meant more to the pioneer family than untold gold, as it spelled protection from Indian perils.
“There, it is at the point where the outward sweep begins; but will such a big object be influenced by so small a change in the current?” Bob was saying.
“I can begin to see a shaking of the branches that stand up, as if they felt a new hand at the helm!” declared Sandy.
“Yes, yes, that is so!” cried Bob, almost as keenly aroused as the excitable Sandy.
“It moves, Bob, it moves! I can see it begin to swerve! Oh! if the cabin were only fifty yards further down-stream, I do believe it would escape!”
“And it may yet. Wait and see!” answered Bob, watching the course of the tree with a critical eye.
“It is swinging around, so that the branches begin to turn toward the cabin. If anything strikes, it will not be the heavy butt, but the lighter end. Perhaps our home may be able to stand out against that sort of a blow.”
“There! it’s coming now!” cried Bob.
The scraping of the branches, as the tree swung around, was plainly heard. Sandy gave a gasp. He imagined that he saw the log structure start after the floating tree; but in this his fears magnified things, for it did not happen.
Instead, the cabin remained just where it had always stood, while the floating derelict of the flood passed on to its destiny.
“Hurrah!” exclaimed Bob, waving his cap enthusiastically.
For the moment poor Sandy was incapable of making a single sound. He trembled violently, gasping for breath, and could only give his brother a wan smile in exchange for his warm greeting; such was the nervous effect the crisis had upon the excitable lad.
But presently Sandy became himself, and was bubbling over with joy because fortune had been so kind to them.
“Oh! look!” he shouted a little later, “what can that be on the big log out yonder? It seems to me like a black bear.”
“And that is just what it is,” replied his brother, after a careful survey.
“Yes, as sure as anything, it must be, for I saw him move his head then,” Sandy went on. “It makes me think of that panther in the tree that was floating down the river once, when we had our adventure with him. But how in the wide world do you suppose he came there; and why doesn’t he swim ashore? Bears can swim, all right, Bob; isn’t that so?”
“To be sure they can,” replied the other; “but I imagine that bear must have been in a treetop, and changed his location to the log, as being better to his liking. He is pretty far out, you see, and perhaps the swift current scares the poor old fellow; so that he thinks he had better hug close to his craft, and let it carry him along where it will.”
“Just to think how he takes that voyage into the unknown world without a single care,” remarked Sandy; “and why should pioneers be afraid to accept the dangers of the wilderness boldly, when they are in force? Think of him getting ashore, hundreds of miles it may be from his starting place, which he will never see again. I suppose that is one of the ways different kinds of wild animals are given a start in new sections of the country.”
“I have been told that by Daniel Boone, who has looked upon so many strange things in his day,” Bob went on. “See, the bear is looking toward us now, as if he wonders what sort of creatures these two-legged things can be. But he is safe from our guns out there, and can keep on his ride in peace.”
“Where is Mr. Armstrong?”
This question was asked by a neighbor, who had his small son by the arm; and Bob could not but notice that Mr. Wayne looked somewhat concerned.
“Over this way, sir, you will find him; I will show you where,” Bob answered; and Sandy trailed along, too, as if he believed that the settler had some particular reason for wanting to see their father.
As Mr. Wayne was one of those who had been talking most vehemently about emigrating further west, Sandy chose to think that his mission now might have some bearing on that issue.
But it did not. On the contrary, both boys were astounded to hear what Mr. Wayne had to say, when presently he came upon their father.
“It was the boy who saw them,” the settler started to say, as he glanced down at his son, about eight years of age, and rather a manly little fellow. “It was at the time we were all so excited last night that we missed him. I hunted wildly around, as perhaps you may remember; and when I began to fear he had been carried off in the river, I finally discovered him, standing there on the bank, watching the water by the light of the fires.”
“Yes, I remember,” remarked Mr. Armstrong, as the other paused for breath; “but you have something more to tell, because I do not see how this has any connection with my affairs, neighbor.”
“Wait,” the other went on, “and you will see whether it has or not. Only a little while ago my good wife called me to her, and said that Rufus had been making certain remarks about two strange men he saw, and that she thought he ought to repeat in my hearing. So I questioned the lad, and learned this. While he was standing by the water’s edge last night, after you and your family had gone up to the blockhouse with all your possessions, Rufus saw two burly men, who were dressed like Kenton and Boone, he says, pass out to your cabin, Mr. Armstrong, and enter by the door!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Sandy, with his usual impulsiveness.
“Those terrible French trappers!” murmured Bob; “what could they want there?”
“They did not stay inside very long,” the settler continued; “and then, after looking out in a queer way, as if they did not wish to be seen, he says they hastened to the bank, and went sneaking off, down-river way.”
“But why did he not tell this before?” asked Mr. Armstrong, plainly disturbed by the news.
“Well, you see, he is only a child,” the other went on; “and, in the excitement of the hour, it passed from his mind; or else he thought they might have been some of the men of the settlement whom he did not know. But it came back to him a little while ago, and he started talking about it in a way to attract the attention of his mother, who listened long enough to make sure that I should know. And so I have brought him here, that you might question him further if it so pleased you.”
“I am afraid they must have been those scoundrels,” said Mr. Armstrong; “but what could have induced them to take the chances they did in entering my cabin? I can only account for it in one way. They wanted that wampum belt which it is known my sons possess, and which entitles its possessor to the good-will of nearly every tribe of Indians between the Alleghanies and the Mississippi. That is why they have been hovering around here so long, waiting for a chance to search our home. And it came in a way they had perhaps never dreamed of.”
“But surely the precious belt is safe with all your things in the blockhouse?” remarked Mr. Wayne.
“That is the worst of it,” replied the other settler; “in our excitement we came away and forgot the little treasure box, which the good wife kept on a shelf above one of the windows. Besides a few valuables, which she would grieve to lose, it also holds that wampum belt of the great chief, Pontiac.”
“In which case, the chances are that those rogues have discovered it, and carried it off with them,” suggested Mr. Wayne.
“I am afraid so,” answered Bob’s father, disconsolately.
The two boys were chilled by the thought. After all, was the cabin to stand through the flood, and then a bitter disappointment await them when they entered the familiar room, in the hope that they would find safe the object of their solicitude?
They hurried back again to the bank, and looked out to where their half-submerged home still stood. Until they were able to reach the door, and pass within, neither of them could know peace again.
“Oh! will the old river ever go down again, so that we can reach the door and know the worst?” Sandy groaned as the afternoon wore slowly away, and the glowing sun sank toward the west that constantly lured his thoughts away from the region of the Ohio.
“But it is falling, and very fast now!” declared his brother, who had been examining the marks closely and eagerly.
“But what are a few inches, when we will have to wait until it goes down six or more feet?” grumbled Sandy; but nothing was to be gained by complaining, and finally the boys concluded to camp right there on the bank, where they could keep watch through the night, so that no one might pass out to the cabin without being seen in the light of the fire they would keep burning.
And this was what they did. One slept while the other stood sentry, always keeping an eye on the cabin.
The river went down very fast during the hours of darkness; and there came no fresh alarm to stir the tired souls from slumber. So another morning found them; and the first thing Sandy noticed was that the cabin stood free from the flood at last, though in the midst of a wrecked garden.
“We can enter now!” he exclaimed to his brother.
They took off their moccasins, and waded through the pools of mud that lay in place of the garden spot of a few days before.
It required considerable force to push open the door, because the water had swollen the wood; but by putting their shoulders to the task in unison the boys finally managed to swing it inward.
Then they entered, and looked around, holding their very breath in an agony of suspense. The cabin had several inches of mud on the floor, and its appearance would have struck dismay to the heart of the neat housewife, had she seen it just then. But Bob and Sandy were not thinking of this. They let their eyes roam all around the room, seeking a sign of the well-remembered little box in which their mother kept those small articles she prized; and which had also been the receptacle in which the wampum belt had last reposed.
But only blankness met their view.
The little box was surely gone; and if, as they suspected, those bold intruders had been the French trappers, Jacques and Henri, then it was apparent that finally the fortunes of war had placed them in possession of the article which they would prize more highly than almost anything else that could be found—the belt decorated with the little shells, and known as wampum, which was marked with the signet of the great war chief and sachem, Pontiac, and would protect its possessor against the fury of the confederated red men of the wilderness.
“Well, that settles it!” said Sandy, disconsolately, as he looked at his brother.
“The box is certainly gone,” replied Bob, trying not to show his feelings more than he could help, because he felt sure Sandy must be close to the breaking-down point.
“And we’ll never see our fine belt again,” continued the other. “I wonder if the chief would feel like giving us another, in case he learned of our losing this one?”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Bob returned, with a shake of his head. “In the first place, how could we hope to see Pontiac, when by now he may be many hundreds of miles away from here, for he belongs up near the lakes, where the Pottawottomies have their lodges, along with the Sacs and the Chippewas? Then again, even if we dared take that adventurous journey, and escaped all the perils of the wilderness, perhaps Pontiac would believe he had done all he should for us, and refuse to hand over another belt. I’m afraid we’ll never set eyes on that wampum again.”
“Unless,” remarked Sandy, with the sanguine nature of youth, “those trappers should strike out for the trading posts along the Mississippi, and we’d happen to run across them, some time or other. And I can tell you this, Bob, if ever I do meet with either of those rascals, I’m bound to make him hand over our property.”
“I believe you would,” declared Bob, his own eyes snapping as he saw the look of determination on the face of his brother.
It was a hard task for Bob to inform his parents of their loss. Sandy shirked the unpleasant duty, and remained away while his brother went to find the others. He was moody and silent the rest of the day, a most unusual circumstance for one possessed of so bright and sunny a disposition. In the course of time this feeling would wear off in a measure, but the loss of that valued wampum belt was going to worry Sandy more than a little.
The river continued to fall very rapidly, and, in the course of a few days, might be expected to get back into its natural channel. But there was no great eagerness shown by the settlers to rebuild the wrecked cabins.
Truth to tell, the more they talked about making a bold push further westward, the stronger the idea began to appeal to them; until it was now almost an assured fact that several families would throw their fortunes in together, build a staunch flatboat, with a large log cabin on it, upon which they could embark, with their few household necessities, and trust to fortune to carry them safely through what perils might lie in wait further down the Ohio.
It was just two days after the flood went down, that a council of war was called among the families most directly interested in the new venture. These were, besides the Armstrongs, the Harkness, Bancroft and Wayne people, and several others who were as yet uncertain what course to pursue.
It was in a serious frame of mind that they gathered there in the open, to talk over what plans they had better arrange, looking to a migration from the settlement on the bank of the Ohio to new fields.
Every scrap of information that could be unearthed was made to do duty over again. Mr. Armstrong had become very much in earnest now, and he was held in such respect by the others that his change of front had considerable influence in causing the Waynes to decide.
Of course the younger element had nothing to say in this meeting; but that did not prevent them from listening with the deepest interest as the question was debated from all sides.
Sandy, especially, was filled with enthusiasm. His pet project, over which he had spent many a sleepless hour, now seemed in a fair way of being realized. Long had that mysterious West held out tempting hands toward the pioneer boy. Just as Daniel Boone had come to believe that it was his destiny to open up the wilderness to settlers, and plant new colonies in the midst of fertile lands; so this lad, apparently, had for some time felt that it was to be his fortune some day to look upon that grand river, discovered by De Soto, which but few whites had ever set eyes on, save the French traders and trappers, and they did not count for much,—in Sandy’s estimation, anyhow.
In the end there were just the four families who bound themselves together in a little league, resolved to attempt to better their conditions in this bold manner.
Some there were, among the others, who disliked exceedingly to see them make preparations for leaving, and threw all manner of trifling obstacles in the way. Whenever they had the chance they would work upon the fears of the women belonging to the four households, by narrating all manner of harrowing tales of the terror that lay in wait for unfortunate voyagers down that mysterious lower Ohio.
But women were made of pretty good stuff in those early days, and especially the wives of the pioneers. They had always faced trials that would easily daunt their weaker sisters of to-day; and believed that their place was beside the loyal men who were their only protectors, and who stood ready to lay down their lives for those they loved.
There were others who, while they disliked to see their friends leaving them, were ready and willing to do everything in their power to assist the enterprise. These loyal ones gave many a hard day’s work, helping to fetch in the timber for the flatboat, and hew the straight logs that were so necessary for its construction. Their good wives sacrificed some of their treasured stores in order that those who were following the beckoning finger of adventure might have an abundance with which to start their new life.
Bob and Sandy worked hard, too, bringing in game that could be cured after the Indian method, so that there need be no lack of food aboard the flatboat, when once they started on their long journey.
The trapping season being over, the boys collected their traps, and oiled them before storing them away, ready to be packed with their other belongings. Sandy loved to picture the glorious time they would have in their new surroundings, with not a white man, possibly, within hundreds of miles, and the whole wilderness to draw upon for furs and game and fish.
“I hope you may never be disappointed,” Bob used to say to him, after listening with a smile to one of these periodical outbursts. “But you know things are not always what they seem. There may be plenty of game away out there, and lots of fur-bearing animals; but what do we know about the new dangers that we are apt to face? I do not speak in this way before our mother and sister; but, between us, I do not like the idea of being closer to those French than can be helped. They are a villainous lot, as father says, and hold all English as their mortal enemies.”
“But, on the other hand,” Sandy would reply, shrewdly, “there is a change of heart coming to these same French. Have we not heard it said that, should the Colonies break away from the Mother Country, and rebel, France, being at war with England, would be on our side? That might make some of these rascally French trappers our so-called friends. I should not like that, and especially in the case of that precious pair, Jacques Larue and Henri Lacroix, whom I hope to meet face to face, at the muzzle of my gun, some happy day.”
The Indians were beginning to show their teeth again, in a manner that was not at all reassuring to the settlers who would make up the reduced colony, after the flatboat had started down the Ohio.
Judge of the delight of the settlers, when one fine day, who should appear at the colony that he had helped to found, but the backwoodsman, Daniel Boone. He was on his way to Boonesborough, and in haste at that, for the attitude of the Shawanees had become so threatening that there was danger of the struggling little settlement falling into the hands of the savages. (Note 8.)
He was keenly interested in all that had gone on since his last visit, and was pleased when told that the bold adventurers had decided to take their fate in their hands, and proceed far into the land of the setting sun. Such a move his spirit could easily sympathize with, for most of his life had been taken up with just such splendid and hazardous enterprises.
“If only I had the time,” he said to Mr. Armstrong, “dearly would I love to accompany you in this venture, for I myself have long wished to set eyes on that wonderful Mississippi of which you speak. My best wishes will go with you; and, if a written word of mine may do you any good by the way, you shall have it for the asking. Even among the Indians I have a few good friends; for they know me as an honorable enemy in time of war, and one whose word once given is never broken.”
Sandy was of course anxious to know about the young hunter whom he admired so much, often the companion of Boone; and, when he had a chance, he made inquiries. The frontiersman had by no means forgotten Bob and Sandy, and, indeed, one of his first questions when he met Mr. Armstrong had been of them, and what new adventures they had been having of late.
“I have not seen the young man for some time,” Boone had answered, when Sandy made his inquiry. “The last I heard of him, he had gone to the Ohio, and was at Fort Washington, I believe. So that there is always a slight chance that you may run across him during your voyage.”
Of course Boone was able to give them a great deal of information, as well as warn them against the tricks of the sly Indians, who would be likely to resort to all manner of devices in order to overpower the travellers.
“Above all things,” he urged upon the men of the party before taking his departure that same afternoon, to rejoin his companions, camped not many miles away, “beware of the white man who appeals to you from the shore, and tells a pitiful story of having been captured by the Indians, from whom he has but recently escaped. The chances are as ten to one that he is but one of those villainous renegades like Girty, McKee or Butler, who act as decoys for their swarthy brothers; and that he only means to lure you close to the shore, so that they can pour a deadly volley into your midst, and board the boat in the confusion.”
“But what if his story should be true?” objected Mr. Harkness. “We should feel like murderers if we abandoned a poor wretch of our own color. And surely success could not come to an expedition founded on cruelty.”
“Your first duty is toward your own families,” spoke up Boone, sternly. “If, then, his story is true, demand that he enter the river, and swim out to you, while you hold the boat stationary by the anchor, but at a safe distance away. If he refuse to do this, and suddenly disappear, see to it that you lay low, for there will immediately rain a tempest of bullets and deadly arrows from the bushes, behind which his red allies lie hidden.”
In this strain, then, did the great pioneer warn those who were about to trust themselves and their precious families to the waters of the lower Ohio. Hearing all he said, both Sandy and Bob were greatly impressed, and secretly resolved to profit by the advice.
Boone admitted that it was a great misfortune to have lost that magic wampum belt of Pontiac’s, which he had seen on a former visit.
“I know Pontiac, and how far his influence goes with nearly every tribe between here and the Mississippi,” he said; “and there will be many times, I fear, when you will deeply regret that you did not hold tighter to his gift, as it would save you from troubles that ever beset the pioneer’s life.”
When Boone shook hands with every soul in the settlement, kissed the babies, and hurried away, to head for his own little settlement, there was not one among them but felt that the mere presence of such a man was a tower of strength to any struggling community on the border of civilization.