“The great day has come at last!” said Sandy, early one morning, as they started down toward the river from the blockhouse, where they had been quartered ever since the flood, their cabin having been occupied by a family with a numerous brood of young children, whose shelter had been carried away by the ruthless waters.
“Yes,” Bob replied, stretching himself; “days and weeks have crept along, and this has been a busy hamlet, what with the rebuilding of cabins, planting crops for those who expect to stay, and the fashioning of our flatboat, with its strong cabin on deck. A busy time, everybody says.”
“But our boat is done at last!” Sandy declared, joyfully; “and most of our things are packed aboard, for to-day we make a start, headed for the Mississippi!”
Bob looked at his brother a little uneasily. He himself was feeling more or less sad, because there were friendships that must be severed; and the chances seemed to be that they would never again shake the hands of some of those who had come out from Virginia with them.
But Sandy seemed to have no thought of this. His father, mother, sister and brother were going along; and what need then to feel distressed? That was the way the light-hearted lad felt about it; and the one great dream of his young life seemed about to be realized. For many months he had yearned to set eyes on that mysterious and mighty river, that rolled toward the far-off gulf; and whose source was as yet a sealed book to the world.
Sandy had hardly slept a wink all through the preceding night. Instead, he tossed on his pillow, and kept picturing what the future would have in store for them in that beautiful land toward the setting sun.
No doubt the little mother also lay awake; but for different reasons. Brave wife of a pioneer that she was, surely Mrs. Armstrong must have looked into the future with something of uneasiness. Many wild stories had she listened to from the lips of Pat O’Mara and other valiant souls, who had penetrated part of the distance toward the Mississippi; and doubtless these all came to haunt her now, magnified by the fact that they themselves were about to go forth into that wilderness to build a new home, under conditions that no one could faithfully picture.
She managed, however, to conceal much of her womanly fears from the eyes of her loved ones. There were dangers everywhere, and as they supped with them each day that they lived, it was no wonder that by degrees even the women learned to hold peril in contempt.
“Looks like it might be a fine morning for a start,” Sandy remarked, as they drew near the edge of the flowing current, at a place where a ledge afforded an excellent foothold, when they wished to bend over and wash their faces.
“Yes, the spring is here in truth,” replied Bob, “and the birds are singing in every tree. After all, this is a beautiful spot, and I fear our mother is not one-half so anxious to leave it as the rest may be.”
“But just wait till she sees what a glorious country we are going to,” declared the ever-sanguine Sandy. “The birds may sing here, but it’s nothing to what they will do out there, where the land is so rich that it grows everything they want to eat. And as for game, why, just think of seeing a whole herd of buffaloes that no man could count! Oh! I do wish we were there right now. It has been a long time since we shot a buffalo.”
“That’s so, Sandy,” replied Bob, just a little enthusiastic himself; “and if things are half as fine as we’ve been told, we ought to soon have a splendid little settlement, with a stockade, and gardens, and cabins that will make it home to us.”
Sandy bent over, and splashed for a minute. He thoroughly enjoyed the cooling water, and, indeed, the boy was never so happy as when swimming, having taken to it when a mere lad.
Then he broke out again, showing that, try as he might, he could not keep his thoughts away from the one great subject that held them like a magnet.
“We’ve got all our traps oiled, and stowed away on board the flatboat, you know, Bob; and won’t we have the time of our lives, once we get settled in our new home, with the snow beginning to fly next autumn? I’m glad now that I traded for those five traps Adam Shell had. It gives us nearly double as many as we had before.”
So they chatted as they finished their cleaning up. Meanwhile the women were busily engaged in getting the last meal that they expected to take among those whom they had known so long.
There were not many tears shed, for these hardy souls were accustomed to meeting all sorts of happenings with the fortitude that makes heroines. Indeed, Mrs. Armstrong admitted to herself that this parting did not cause one-half the wrench that came when they pulled up stakes, away off in Virginia, and first set out on the trail over the mountains, headed into the great West. Then they knew nothing of the Indian country, and a thousand fears assailed them; but now, the yell of the savage foe had become familiar in their ears, and surely little that was new in the form of peril could be awaiting them on their further journey. It was but the turning over of the page and beginning a second chapter in a tale that had already been started.
After breakfast had been disposed of, there was a great confusion all through the little settlement. Work of all kinds was at a standstill for that morning, as all wished to add their mite to giving the adventurous families a hearty send-off.
Before the sun had mounted three hours high in the eastern heavens the last word had been spoken; and amid the cheers of the assembled people, old and young, the ropes that held the large flatboat to the shore were cast off.
At last they were afloat on the Ohio, bound into the unknown country that lay far away to the westward. Day after day, and week after week, they expected to continue to float ever onward, spending the daylight in making such progress as lay in their power, and either anchoring at night in the stream, or else, if it were deemed safe, tying up to the shore.
Again and again had they listened to the sober warnings from those who expected to stick to the old settlement. And now the current had taken hold of their clumsy, but staunch, craft, and was commencing to hurry it along, as though anxious to sever the last ties binding them to these good friends.
By degrees the shouts died out in the ever-increasing distance, and the bold pioneers began to pay more attention to their duties.
Then a bend of the river shut out the last glimpse of the waving hats and kerchiefs, and a great silence came upon the scene, broken only by the creak of the big steering oar, or the gurgle of the river against the planking below.
The start had been made, and all seemed well. They were headed into a wilderness that was next to unknown, and it had required almost as much courage for these valiant souls to thus break away from the settlement, and start upon this voyage of discovery, looking for a new homestead in the wilds, as was shown by Christopher Columbus, when, braving the traditions that declared the world to be flat, he set sail into the western seas, under the firm conviction that in this manner he could reach the East Indies.
On board the flatboat things soon began to assume a settled condition. Mr. Armstrong had been unanimously elected the leader of the expedition, and every member was bound to yield him obedience.
System had been early established, and each one knew just what was to be expected of him or her, so that there was no confusion.
The household goods, save what might be needed in the way of coverings for the night, or additional clothing, had been stowed away in as compact shape as their ingenuity could devise; and in the hold of the boat a place had been found for the accommodation of this material. It consisted chiefly of a few household treasures, handed down from ancestors across the seas. The pioneers did not possess much in the way of furniture. Tables, beds and chairs they expected to make afresh when they had reached the Promised Land. A few strong oaken or cedar chests, bound in brass it might be, contained their belongings for the most part; with what few cooking utensils that were needed, these latter also in brass or copper, which was much used in those early days.
Besides the Armstrongs, the passengers and crew of the flatboat consisted of three families. First there was Mr. Harkness and his wife, a fourteen-year-old daughter named Susan, and also a nephew, one Amos Terry, from New England, and with some of the peculiarities of speech that even at this early day marked the difference between those whose ancestors came over on the Mayflower, and the descendants of those settling in Virginia or Carolina.
Then there were the Bancrofts, father, mother, and three children, all of the latter rather small; and the Waynes, who had a boy, Rufus, about eight years of age, and a small baby.
Two more persons there were aboard the boat at the time of leaving. Pat O’Mara, the good-natured Irish trapper, meant to stick to his friend, Mr. Armstrong, through thick and thin, in this new venture, feeling partly responsible through having told the wonderful tales that had so stirred the ambitions of these voyagers. Blue Jacket, also, was with them, though he only expected to go a few days’ journey into the west, when he would say good-bye, and return to his people, never expecting to see these white friends again.
Seven men and two boys capable of bearing arms constituted their full fighting force; a pitiful company when one considers the nature of the dangers that were always awaiting the hardy pioneers whenever they cut adrift and pierced the wilderness. But such a thing as fear was next to unknown to any of them; and, as they turned successive bends of the river, always unfolding some new and beautiful feature of the remarkable scenery, both men and women felt that surely good fortune must await them in the favored land beyond.
They were not much given to sentiment. The hardships of that time made people very practical; and yet no nature could withstand the magnificent sunset that greeted their eyes, hours later, when many miles had been left behind.
It must have seemed to some of those who stood and drank in the glorious picture with a feeling almost of awe, as though the sun had never before gone down in the midst of such splendor and that he was beckoning them onward to where their new homes were to be founded.
And yet, no doubt, as some of the women glanced at the grim forest-lined shore so near by, they must have shuddered, remembering how somewhere in the dark recesses of that wood, savage foes lurked, hating the venturesome paleface who threatened to steal away their lands, and only too eager to pounce down upon the little expedition, could they find the means.
Blue Jacket went ashore as soon as the boat was tied up for the night, in order to scout around, and ascertain whether there might be any signs of hostile Indians in the vicinity. Pat O’Mara also took a little turn, and both reported that the coast appeared to be clear, so the voyagers took heart of grace, and supper was cooked in comfort.
There was no loud talking or laughter. Even the children had been admonished to keep quiet, leaving their boisterous play until the morrow, when, safe on the bosom of the broad stream, they might give vent to their exuberant spirits.
All through the night a watch would be kept. Much of that duty was to be undertaken by Blue Jacket and Pat, who had no family cares to attend to; but every man slept on his arms, as it were, ready to leap to his feet at the first alarm, with a clear idea as to the duties devolving upon him in case of an attack.
The ropes were arranged so that they could be instantly cast off, and the boat swung out into the stream, which, being quite deep just there, would prevent the enemy from wading out after them.
While part of the force performed this duty, the others would send a hot fire in among the Indians; and it must be remembered that in pioneer days every woman had learned to handle a gun almost as well as the male members of the family.
The first night passed, fortunately, without any alarm; which was a good thing, since it gave them all a chance to get accustomed to their strange surroundings. Later on, after they had fallen into the new ways, if trouble came, as they fully anticipated, it would find them better prepared to meet the situation.
All were early astir on the following morning, except that Pat and Blue Jacket still lay under their blankets, since they had been ashore part of the night, and secured scarce any sleep at all until an hour before dawn. The men were busy, getting wood aboard with which to make a small fire if necessary, a stone hearth having been constructed for this purpose, when, suddenly, Sandy made a startling discovery.
“Oh! look! Bob, look, up there on the roof of the cabin!” he exclaimed; and Bob, turning his eyes toward the boat, quickly saw the object that had thus excited the other.
“Another arrow, with a birch-bark message, just as sure as anything,” he cried, turning a puzzled face toward Sandy.
“Let me climb up and get it!” cried the younger lad; and, with the words, he immediately started to clamber up the rough side wall of the cabin, which had been made as near bullet-proof as possible, so as to afford protection in case of an Indian attack; for the French traders were selling the savages hundreds of firearms, and even teaching the warriors how to use them in place of the more primitive bow and arrows.
Presently Sandy came back, bearing the arrow in his hand.
“It is exactly like the other, which Blue Jacket told us was surely made by the hands of a Delaware brave,” he said, holding the object up before his brother.
Bob, just as he had expected, found a small piece of thin birch bark rolled about the arrow, near the head, and secured there by means of fibres taken from some plant.
Opening this, he discovered a series of crude, but plain pictures, made after the fashion of the Indians.
“This time there are many figures, and, as they have scalplocks, they must be Indians,” Bob remarked, as he and Sandy eagerly examined the message that had come from their unknown friend.
“Yes,” the other boy went on, “and see how they are lying flat behind bushes; while this must be the river flowing along. Some have guns, and others bows. And, if you please, Bob, this must be meant for our fine flatboat, though it looks more like an old ark than anything else. What do you make of that part of the message!”
“Oh! it stands but for one thing, a warning to beware of the foes who lurk on the shore, waiting to take us by surprise. But we already have been told all about such dangers, though this kind friend may not know that.”
“But see, Bob, there is more to it this time,” Sandy continued, eagerly. “Here is our proud boat again on the river, and on the shore stands a man, holding both his hands out. He is surely a white man, because he has a hat on. And I think he must be begging us to come to the shore and take him aboard.”
“That is just it,” Bob remarked, “and you remember what Daniel Boone warned us against. This must be that terrible Simon Girty, or his companion, McKee, for if you look once again, you will see those forms concealed behind the grass and bushes, just as the panther lies in wait for a deer at the salt lick. Is that all plain to you, Sandy?”
“Yes, and I would have seen through it, even if you hadn’t spoken. But here, for the third time, we have received a message from this friend, who keeps his face hidden, so that we do not know who he is. What does it mean, do you think, and who can he be?”
“He must have some object,” replied Bob, his brow marked by a line of perplexing thought; “and he certainly has a reason for not letting us know who he is. If it is that young Delaware you helped, he has a queer way of paying back his debt. But, after all, he is only an Indian, and how can a white man understand his ways? We must show this to father, even if it doesn’t seem to tell us anything new.”
“Yes,” said Sandy, drawing a long breath, and glancing at the forest so close at hand; “anyhow, it’s nice to know we’ve got a friend who watches over us all the time. There may come a day when his warning will save us from a terrible danger. Delaware brave or not, I am going to thank him for it, if ever I meet him face to face.”
As they had already been told all about these perils, the men did not experience any fresh alarm from seeing the message of the arrow. Mr. Armstrong, thinking it wise to keep all such causes for uneasiness away from the women as much as possible, bade the boys not to mention finding it on the roof. Plainly the unknown Indian must have shot it from some point close at hand, though how he had managed to approach the boat, unheard by the keen, listening ears of Blue Jacket or Pat O’Mara, was a mystery to both Bob and Sandy.
If he could do this, what was to prevent a dozen, or fifty, of his kind from accomplishing the same thing? It was a thought calculated to cause a timid person considerable uneasiness; and possibly this was what had influenced Mr. Armstrong in his desire to keep the women from hearing about the arrow that bore the new warning.
Again they were floating on the current, that bore the adventurers along at the rate of some four miles an hour. While the river changed its course from time to time, so that they headed now southwest, and again toward the northwest, still their constant progress was such that they had the morning sun behind them; and, when the orb of day passed the zenith, it beckoned them onward until, nearing the horizon, its slanting rays warned them that another night lay ahead, with the dangers that darkness must ever bring in its train.
And so it would go, as the days slipped by, many miles being covered between daybreak and darkness, and each span taking them further into the unknown country.
Three days had now passed.
All this time the flatboat had made good progress down the river, which continually opened up new and most beautiful pictures to the eyes of the voyagers. It was very slow travelling, to be sure; but then the early pioneers had never ridden on a lightning express train, nor sat in an automobile that was flying along country roads at the rate of a mile a minute; so such tedious progress was not irksome to them.
One night only had they anchored out from the shore, when Blue Jacket and the Irish trapper did not like the idea of tying up to the trees on the bank, having discovered some signs of Indians about.
As yet there had been no attack upon the people on the flatboat, and perhaps a feeling of renewed confidence was beginning to steal into their hearts. But the men knew better than to allow such immunity from danger to render them a particle less cautious. And each evening they kept up the same programme that had been first instituted.
One man was to be on guard aboard the boat, constantly watching the shore for signs of anything moving. He had his orders to shoot, if an approaching figure, upon being challenged, failed to give the correct password. And then every one of the others knew just what his part of the defence was to be, so that they would leap to their stations as one man.
After supper on this night, when they were tied up again to the shore, Blue Jacket went away to scour the immediate vicinity, and keep on the alert for the first signs of an impending attack.
It was to be the very last night of the young Shawanee among them; for he had announced that, since they were now far away from the lodges of his people, he must on the morrow shake the hands of his white friends in farewell, and turn his face toward the rising sun.
The boys would be sorry. They had come to think most highly of Blue Jacket; and Bob predicted that, in time to come, the young brave would make a name for himself among his people. (Note 9.)
The young moon was now getting of a size to give considerable light for much of the night, and this fact afforded every one much satisfaction, since it took away from the gloom of the dense forest, that was peopled with unknown evil things.
Sandy and Bob sat on deck, after supper had been eaten, and the younger members of the expedition were being put to sleep in the cabin. Some of the men were smoking their long pipes, and talking in low tones near by. Doubtless they felt well pleased over the way things were going, and their conversation may have been along about the same lines as marked that of the two lads.
“Three good days, and all is well,” remarked Sandy, who had a fishing line over the side, with which he expected to take in a number of fine prizes before thinking of sleep.
“Yes, and if this sort of thing would only keep up right along, nobody would complain, that I know of,” Bob added; for he was feeling very comfortable after the good supper he had enjoyed a short time before.
“Oh! that was a fierce bite, all right!” exclaimed Sandy, giving a jerk to his stout line; “and I’ve got him, too, I do believe! My goodness! how he pulls, Bob! Now, I hope he doesn’t break loose! This must be the biggest fish I’ve had hold of yet.”
Bob, of course, offered to lend a hand in order to get the prize in; but Sandy, with all a fisherman’s ardor, would not think of allowing such a thing.
And presently, after a deal of pulling, and expressing fears that he might lose his hard-fighting prize, Sandy managed to drag the fish aboard. It proved to be a very large specimen of what has since become known as the buffalo fish, found along the whole length of the Ohio, and which is considered fairly good for the table.
To these people of the early days such a feast was always eagerly welcomed; and, of course, all the women had to come out to see the noble proportions of Sandy’s capture, even the children following, filled with delight because it meant a feast for all.
Although the persistent fisherman kept up the good work, and landed several more of the same species of fish, none approached in size his first capture; but, then, by the time Sandy was ready to take in his line, for he was yawning sadly, the moon had crept along to top the trees toward the southwest, and he had secured an abundance for their temporary wants.
Sandy had just completed winding up his line on the piece of smooth wood he had prepared for this especial purpose, when suddenly the voice of the sentry was heard calling out:
“Who goes there? Speak, and give the countersign!” for Mr. Armstrong had organized his little company very much on a military basis.
Of course every one started up, and many a hand reached out for the gun that was always kept within reach, day and night. Sandy and Bob were no exception to the rule, and they scrambled to their feet, as, from the tree-lined shore, came the word that had been selected for the night:
“Washington!”
It was Blue Jacket, coming hastily aboard. His actions told that he must be bringing important news; and a thrill swept through the hearts of the two lads at the prospect of immediate danger.
Mr. Armstrong was the first one to meet the Indian as he came crawling over the side of the flatboat, which stood rather high out of the water, despite the load it carried, thanks to the splendid construction of the craft.
“Get away—quick—many Indians, like the leaves of the forest—come creep up through trees. No say what, but slip loose, and run!” was the way Blue Jacket expressed himself.
Upon hearing these significant words, every one started to carry out his special part of the duty of freeing the boat. There was no noise—no confusion; and this spoke well, not only for the brave hearts that were aboard the boat, but for the rules of discipline instituted by the commander.
Two men jumped ashore, and proceeded to unfasten the ropes; though really this could have been done from aboard, as the painters had been so fastened that all it required was a strong pull. Others stooped to grasp the long, stout push poles, with which to urge the unwieldy craft ahead. Once in the clutch of the current, of course that part of the business would be ended; though they might continue to drop the poles over, and strain their backs, as long as they were able to touch bottom.
Others, still, crouched, guns in hand, ready to commence shooting at the first indication of the presence of the fierce enemy.
Everything worked smoothly. The ropes were unfastened, and brought aboard, without any trouble. Already a load was lifted from the hearts of the voyagers; and this lightened still more when they could feel the heavy craft beginning to move in response to the muscular efforts of those who were straining at the poles.
Soon the sweeps could be brought into play, when their movement would become more rapid. Eager eyes scanned the line of trees from which two dozen feet of sand and water now separated them. At any second they expected to see dusky figures leap into view, followed by the crash of many guns. Looking to such a contingency, Mr. Armstrong had sent around a whispered caution that at the very first appearance of the wily foe everybody should shelter themselves as best they could behind the rampart afforded by the gunwale of the flatboat, expressly built up for this purpose.
“Do you think they are really coming?” whispered Sandy, as he and Bob crouched there, sheltered by the heavy bulwark, and keeping their eyes fastened on the edge of the forest.
“Some of the men are already beginning to say that Blue Jacket must have heard a buffalo passing, or deer hunting for new feeding grounds; and that, after all, it may be only a false alarm; but I do not believe that can be. You know, Sandy, how wonderfully he can tell just what every sound means, when they seem alike to us. If Blue Jacket says there are Indians afoot in the forest this night, I feel sure it must be so.”
“Oh! I thought I saw what looked like a feathered head thrust out of the bushes up yonder!” exclaimed Sandy.
Hardly had he spoken than a single shrill yell rang out. It seemed to be some sort of signal, and it must have conveyed the information that the boat was slipping away; for Bob felt sure he could detect both rage and disappointment in the loud cry.
“There, that tells the story!” he exclaimed, as he nervously handled his musket, and made ready to give a good account of the bullet it contained, if called up. “Blue Jacket knew what he was saying, just as I told you.”
“But we are far enough from the shore to be safe from an attack,” declared the other lad, joyfully; “and moving further out in the stream every second, now that they’ve got the big sweeps to working. Let the Indians come, for all I care. They will be sorry if they try to swim out to us, with that fine moon shining. Why, we could see their heads easily, and hit them every time.”
Sandy might have gone on talking in this boastful strain, only that his words were deadened by a chorus of angry yells that broke out all along the shore. It was as though the savage enemy had been creeping forward in a long semi-circle, meaning to close in on the tied-up flatboat, and render escape impossible. And now, on discovering that those they had expected to make their victims were really beyond their reach, they gave vent to this expression of their furious rage.
And women shuddered, while children held their very breath in fear, when they, for the first time on the voyage, heard the savage outburst that told of red-skinned foes lurking within the depths of the primitive forest, eager to wipe out every member of that brave little expedition.
“Lie down, everybody!”
It was the voice of Mr. Armstrong that uttered these words; and hardly had the men who manned the sweeps and poles thrown themselves flat, than there came flashes of flame from the border of the trees, accompanied by the crash of firearms and the thud of striking bullets in the stout bulwark, behind which they had sought shelter.
Other missiles splashed in the water, falling short, or passing beyond the boat. Arrows also struck the cabin, to remain imbedded there as evidence of the muscular arms that sent them aboard.
But there was a way of working the sweeps from behind shelter; and so, by slow degrees, the imperilled pioneers were carried further and further from the shore.
No one fired back. In the first place, they saw but little of the Indians, who held the marksmanship of the borderers in too high respect to risk showing themselves needlessly. And then, besides, ammunition was too precious and costly a commodity to waste, unless the necessity seemed great.
Gradually the firing from the shore slackened, and finally died away altogether, as did also the cries of bitter rage and disappointment. Only for the warning of Blue Jacket the little company might have met with disaster thus early in their adventurous voyage. There were no longer heard murmurings because they had been compelled to make this hasty departure from so comfortable a resting-place. Indeed, every one was grateful to the young Shawanee, because of what he had done.
Blue Jacket wanted not their thanks. He had no love for the white men, who were coming to drive his race away from the lands where they had lived for many generations, carrying on their wars with neighboring tribes, hunting the buffalo and the deer, and worshipping the Great Manitou after the fashion of the red men.
He sat by himself, moody and silent. Perhaps he was thinking how sorry he would be to part forever from the two paleface lads whom he had grown to care for so much in this year he had known them. And then there was the kind, motherly woman who had helped nurse him back to life long ago, when he suffered from a severe bullet wound, received in a battle with the whites, and which would have caused his death had he not been found by Sandy, and taken into the care of the Armstrongs.
Then again, it might be that the young Shawanee brave was feeling the bitterness of his situation, placed as he was in a position where, for the time, he felt compelled by gratitude to warn these palefaces against the coming of his own people. Perhaps it was well that no shot had been fired from the flatboat; had a single Indian been killed as a result of his warning, Blue Jacket would have cause for feeling more moody than was now the case.
The boys must have guessed something of his feelings, for they did not attempt to break in upon his solitude, as he sat with bowed head.
For several hours the voyage down the river was continued by moonlight; and then Mr. Armstrong gave orders that they head in toward the shore, and put out the anchor that had been brought along for the purpose.
A strict watch was kept until dawn; then Blue Jacket, going on shore, soon signalled that there was no longer any danger; accordingly the boat was pushed in, and, some of them landing, started a fire, at which the breakfast of fresh fish was cooked.
So the waters and the woods were all made to pay tribute to the demands of the sturdy early settlers. The rivers were teeming with fish, and the forests contained innumerable deer, buffalo, and much smaller game, so that it was easy as a rule to supply the table, if a hunter dared venture abroad. Fear of an Indian surprise was the only thing that deterred them. There was ever this dread possibility hovering over their heads in the disputed land.
When the meal was over, Blue Jacket, with the same grave face that always marked his character, came up, and held out his hand to Mrs. Armstrong.
“Good-bye!” he said simply, with not a muscle quivering, such was the splendid control he had over his feelings.
To Bob and Sandy he also gave his hand, and looked at them long and earnestly, but said only that same one word:
“Good-bye!”
Then he turned and strode away, never giving any of the others so much as a single look, for they were nothing to the young Shawanee warrior, and, if ever he met any of them again, it would probably be with weapons in his hands, and hatred for the mortal enemies of his race in his Indian heart.
Neither of the boys ever saw Blue Jacket again, since their life trails parted there on the flowery bank of the beautiful Ohio. Destiny led them into the wilderness, to help clear a path for advancing civilization; while the same power took Blue Jacket back into the villages of his people, to carry out the scheme in life to which he was appointed.
For a full hour after he had gone Sandy sat there, looking out upon the river as the heavy craft glided steadily on its way, saying not a word to any one.
Then all at once he called aloud:
“Oh! there’s a man down on that point below, and a white man, too! He seems to be in trouble, for he beckons to us all the while, and yet seems afraid to shout out. Perhaps he’s escaped from the Indians who tried to catch us napping last night. It looks to me as if he wanted us to push in, and take him aboard.”
Instantly every one rushed to that side of the boat to look. And, sure enough, there stood a white man, waving his hands to them in a most beseeching manner. His whole appearance would indicate that he had suffered all sorts of recent privations and was both hungry and desperate.
“Shall we push in closer?” asked Mr. Wayne, who knew less about Indian trickery than any one of the other men of the party.
“Not a foot!” declared Mr. Armstrong; “and every one keep low behind the shelter of the sides; for, by my faith, I fancy, even now, that I can see dusky figures gliding along back there among those trees.”
The man, as they came opposite, commenced to run along the edge of the shore, and make more urgent gestures than before.
“Don’t desert me, if you be men with hearts!” he cried out, in seeming agony.
“Who are you, and what ails you?” demanded Mr. Armstrong.
“My name is Elijah Fish, and with my mate I was taken prisoner by the bloodthirsty Shawanees a moon ago. They have tortured us both, and my comrade finally fell a victim to their savage hatred. I managed to escape four days ago, and they have been hunting for me ever since. If you leave me here, they will surely find me, and take my life. I beg of you to pull in at least part way, and let me come aboard!”
“He talks straight, seems to me,” declared young Amos Terry. “I don’t see no sign of any Indians, and for one I’d hate to think I left a poor white man to be put to death. Ain’t there some way he might be saved, Mr. Armstrong?”
For answer the leader of the expedition put his hands to his mouth, using them for a trumpet, and called aloud:
“We cannot come in any closer, because we must not risk chances of being beset by the Indians; but, if you wish to come aboard, why not enter the water, and swim out after us? That is your only chance, Elijah Fish, which, for one, I do not believe to be your name.”
“Why, who do you take me for?” asked the man, still running along the sandy strip of shore between the edge of the water and the forest.
“Well, you might be the renegade, Simon Girty, or perhaps McKee. And so we must refuse to risk the lives of all on board in order to do you a good turn. If you can swim, enter the water. We will immediately anchor the boat, and wait for you to come aboard. But that is as far as we dare go!”
The man ceased running at hearing this.
“Yew must have broken his heart with that, Mr. Armstrong,” said the Yankee, Amos Terry.
“Look again!” exclaimed Sandy, quickly.
The man was shaking his clenched fist after them, and, even as they looked, he uttered all sorts of horrible threats. Some one on board fired a shot, and the bullet threw up the sand close to the feet of the fellow, who, taking the hint, made haste to disappear in the bushes.
“Keep down!” called Mr. Armstrong; and hardly had he spoken than there was heard a crackling of guns here, there and everywhere among the trees, showing that the red foe had been cunningly concealed, in the hope that the defenders of the flatboat might be lured into approaching the shore.
This time those on board answered the fire, as they caught glimpses of dusky figures dodging from tree to tree.
The duel of guns was kept up for some little time. Many a bullet, as well as dozens of feathered barbs, struck the bulwarks or cabin of the flatboat; but, since the white defenders were wise enough to keep themselves well hidden, little damage resulted from the furious bombardment, one man alone receiving a slight wound from a bullet, that must have glanced off the side of the cabin wall.
On their part the pioneers believed that they had struck a number of the enemy, although they could not be positive about this, since they had not seen any actually fall. The Indians, however, found that they were getting more than they bargained for, and when another half-hour had passed the firing ceased.
“I hope they’ve given it up as a bad job,” remarked Sandy, who had sent several shots during the exciting time. “I wonder if I really did wound that brave who was lying in that clump of bushes.”
“I think you must have hit him,” Bob replied; “because, as soon as you fired, he came tumbling out, and plunged into that hole behind the three trees, and I’m sure he acted as if something bothered him.”
“That’s so, Bob, he did make me think of the way I got around when that hornets’ nest upset, and they all came out to get at me. It felt pretty warm for me just then; and I guess it did for that brave. But, do you think they have drawn off, and mean to let us alone?”
“I’m afraid that in some way, perhaps by means of the smoke signals, we know about, they may send word down the river of our coming; and that would mean, you know, Sandy, a continual war all along the line to the Mississippi. I’m afraid we’ll have only too many just such fights on our hands, before we get to where we want to settle down.”
But even such a prospect did not daunt the spirit of Sandy, which was not easily crushed.
“We have shown how easy it is to keep the Indians off, and we can do it again and again, as long as our powder and ball hold out,” he declared, with the sanguine nature of youth, that borrows no trouble when the skies seem clear. “I’m sure Pat O’Mara must have laid more than one of those yelling rascals low, for every time he fired I saw him nod his head and look pleased.”
All the rest of that day they floated on, undisturbed by any signs of an enemy. Once Sandy discovered a stately stag standing knee deep in the water, surveying the approaching craft as if in wonder, and, eager to land a shot that might give them a bountiful supply of fresh venison, the boy made a hasty jump for his gun.
But perhaps it was this sudden movement on the part of the impetuous Sandy that alarmed the deer, for, whirling like a flash, it vanished amidst the brush that at this particular spot lined the bank.
“Too bad!” said Pat, who had witnessed all this; “but, take me worrd for it, Sandy, av yees had been more deliberate like in your movements, chances are ye might ’a’ had a shot. ’Tis the same ould story av too much haste, me bye. Next toime r’ach out yer hand, slow like, and pick up the gun widout takin’ yer eyes off the game.”
Sandy thought he might do even better, and keep his musket in his grasp; but, though he sat there faithfully for nearly two hours, the chance did not come again. It seldom does, once we allow it to slip past.
Of course, on that evening they decided that it was too risky to think of going ashore to make their fire; and so supper was prepared on board, after they had anchored.
So anxious were they to get as far as possible below the scene of their encounter with the treacherous renegade and his red allies, that they would have continued the voyage by moonlight, only that it had clouded up with the coming of late afternoon, and there was every prospect of a bad night ahead.
The weather had been very fair ever since the spring rains ceased; but, warmer weather having now arrived, Mr. Armstrong warned them that a storm was liable to swoop down upon them at any time, and they must be prepared for it.
So, on this night they tried the best they could to have the anchor well laid, for, if ever the wind came sweeping down the river, there was a chance that the cabin of the flatboat would offer such a resistance that, sooner or later, they must be swept away, to find themselves at the mercy of the storm. And that was a possibility none of them fancied very much.
“I feel just wild for fresh meat, and I mean to ask father if we can take a little hunt this very afternoon,” said Sandy, two days later, while the flatboat was speeding quite merrily down the current.
“Well,” remarked his brother, “I would like a chance to get ashore and stretch my legs, just as much as you do. And I hope he says yes, when you ask him. Fish is pretty good, but a fellow gets tired of it as a regular thing, and I don’t think that is the finest kind of fish either, that we get. Why, when you took in that slippery mudcat, and we had it for dinner, it tasted better to me.”
“We haven’t seen a solitary sign of Indians since they tried to get us to come in to the shore,” Sandy went on. “And that must have been Girty, himself, who rumpled up his hair, and tried to look so hard pushed. You remember we saw him that time after we got ashore, when our boat was smashed, and when Blue Jacket told that Miami chief, Little Turtle, why he stood up for the Armstrong boys. But I’ll come back and let you know what father says.”
Ten minutes later he approached Bob again.
“You needn’t say a single word,” remarked the other, “for I can tell by the look on your face that it’s all right.”
“Yes, he says that we have been making such good time we can afford to lose an afternoon, or part of one, in order to try to get some fresh meat, because we all feel the need of it. So, before the sun is more than half-way down the sky, he will give orders for the boat to be tied up, if everything looks safe, just like it is right now.”
“I’m glad of that,” declared Bob; “because, after being used to walking nearly every day, for miles and miles, it comes pretty hard to just sit here, push a sweep, or tramp up and down around the cabin.”
“Oh! I just couldn’t stand it much longer!” cried Sandy. “I was really thinking that I’d have to jump overboard, and swim ashore, to try my luck, if father didn’t want to stop the boat, hoping to catch up with you all below, when you hauled in for the night camp.”
Bob looked uneasily at his impulsive younger brother.
“I don’t know whether you are joking when you say that, or not, Sandy,” he remarked; “but it would be a foolish move to make, and would bring more worry to the heart of mother. I hope you won’t think of such a thing at any time. You are getting too big now to let these things have hold of you so much. There are enough troubles to bother our parents without you adding to the burden.”
Sandy turned red, and then burst out into a confused laugh.
“Oh! I only said I was thinking of doing something like that, you know,” he declared; “but that is as far as it would go, I give you my word, Bob. Whenever I catch myself wanting to jump at things so, I remember what Pat said that day we saw the big stag standing knee deep in the water. Too much hurry, too sudden a move, spoils many a good game. And I guess it’s so. I’m trying as hard as I know how to think twice, now, before doing anything.”
“That sounds more like you, Sandy, and I’m glad to hear you talk so,” continued Bob; “but did father say anything about how we were to hunt this afternoon?”
“There is only one thing he insisted on,” the other started to reply, when Bob interrupted him by saying:
“I think I can guess what that was; we must take some one along with us; and of course we’ll be only too glad to do it, since it will be Pat O’Mara, who knows more about hunting, and Indian fighting, and taking all fur-bearing animals in traps and snares, than any three others on board.”
“Just what he said, I declare! Seems like you must have been close enough to hear it all!” exclaimed Sandy, as if surprised; “and yet that couldn’t be, either, for I saw you sitting here all the time I was speaking with father. But I’m glad it’s settled. And I do hope we run across plenty of excitement. It is getting what I call dull, with so little happening.”
To Bob there was so much to see in the new pictures presented with every bend of the winding river, that he never found the time drag on his hands; but then Sandy was made up along different lines, and could not remain quiet any length, of time without getting nervous.
The time passed slowly, indeed, until they heard the order given to edge the boat in toward the southern shore of the river, so that they could observe it more closely, in order to make sure that enemies were not lurking in the undergrowth.
Pat O’Mara gave it as his opinion that there seemed to be no evidence that the Indians were near by; and, as he, too, wanted to stretch his legs by a little side hunt, it was finally determined to land.
Of course, there must be more or less danger in leaving the protection of the strong cabin of the flatboat, and venturing into the depths of the forest; but, as has been said before, the life of a pioneer is so made up of taking risks that he assumes chances without much thought or anxiety. When the danger came along they would trust to their ability to take care of themselves. And every one of the party felt pretty much the same way.
Mr. Armstrong had a crude chart of the river, but it was founded on almost guesswork, so little was the region to the westward known at the time. The place where Cincinnati now stands was called Fort Washington; and, an indefinite distance further down, another mark on the map showed where Harrodsburg stood, about where the city of Louisville can be found to-day, marking the falls of the Ohio during low water times.
So, apparently, the early settlers had a pretty good eye for the most advantageous natural sites, upon which to found the white man’s cities of the future.
What lay beyond Harrodsburg no one really knew. Somewhere, in some manner, the Ohio joined forces with the mighty Mississippi; and this bold little company of men and women were on the way to learn the truth, taking their lives in their hands in so doing.
When the boat had been tied up, Pat and the two boys started into the woods, bent upon bringing back fresh meat if it could be procured by any means in their power.
“Sure,” remarked the trapper, when they found themselves out of sight of the river, and surrounded by the primeval forest, “we must be afther kapin’ clost enough till each ither to hear a signal whistle. If wees do be afther catchin’ that same, it wull mane to come tegither as quickly as yees can. But only a cooie stands for ‘all’s well, kape on a-huntin’ right along wid yees, an’ may the bist man win.’”
When they divided their forces, so as to cover more territory, Pat was wise enough to station himself midway between the brothers. Here he could keep in touch with either Sandy or Bob, a different sort of call meaning that he wanted a response from the one it designated, and about whom he might be getting a trifle anxious.
Pat had hunted many a time with such old frontiersmen as Jo Davies, John Hardin and Silas Hardin. He knew pretty much all there was to be learned about the ways of the cunning woods folks, from the little mink up to the great buffalo that, if angered or wounded, would come charging full at the hunter, ready to use his wicked short horns in hurling him many feet into the air, or grinding him into the earth, if he were so unlucky as to be caught napping.
No small game would do for them now. Birds might flush from the thickets and offer splendid pot shots; but they had agreed not to think of taking advantage of anything in the feathered line short of a big wild turkey. And, with so many mouths to feed, Sandy was more inclined to wish they might rout a buffalo out of some thicket, than anything else.
They advanced for some time, without seeing anything that offered a chance for a shot, and Sandy, of course, always impatient, began to think they might, after all, be compelled to return to the boat without any fresh meat, which would be a great pity, since every one yearned so for a feast.
The afternoon was now waning, and they found themselves some distance away from the place where the camp had been made. About this time Pat called the boys to him for a little consultation. He believed that, by altering their course, so as to come upon the river about two miles below the spot where their friends were tied up, the prospects for game would be vastly improved, because the country looked better to his eyes in that quarter.
So the change in direction was made. Bob was just as well satisfied, because he did not much like the idea of keeping on heading deeper and deeper into the great hills that lay back from the river, and which doubtless held more than one village of the hostile red men.
He noticed with some concern that it was even now beginning to grow a little dusk under the tall trees that lifted their lofty heads almost a full hundred feet in the air. And then, just when Bob was wondering if they were to arrive at the river, which could not be more than a quarter of a mile distant, without one single sign of game, he heard the well-known crash of Sandy’s gun away over to the left; because Pat carried one of those long-barrelled rifles, with the small bore, that took a patched bullet—one that was enclosed in a greased piece of linen—and made a sharp report entirely different from that of a musket.
Hurrying that way, he found Pat and Sandy bending over a noble young two-pronged buck that had jumped from a thicket where he had been lying, and fallen when the young Nimrod hastily let fly; for Sandy was a clever all-around shot.
Pat set to work, assisted by both the boys, to skin the game, and secure all the edible portions. These parts were made up into three packs, so that each might carry a share of the burden to camp, which was at least two miles distant.
Wondering whether the shot had reached the ears of their friends, and picturing their delight when they sighted all that fine fresh meat, the three were trudging along through the gathering darkness, when, without warning, Pat stumbled, having evidently caught his foot in some trailing vine which he had not seen.
Bob hastened to drop his own burden, and bend over to assist Pat to rise, for he saw that the other seemed to be having some difficulty about doing so. When he heard the trapper groan, Bob’s alarm increased.
“What has happened to you, Pat?” asked Sandy, who did not yet understand the cause of the delay, save that their companion had tripped.
“Bad cess to the thing; but I’m afther belavin’ that I’ve gone an’ twisted me ankle so bad that ’tis mesilf that can’t put the same to the ground; and that manes a long time before we say camp agin, so it do,” grumbled the trapper.
Somehow Bob began to feel a little anxiety, as though he scented new difficulties looming up ahead.