“This is what I call hard luck,” remarked Sandy, as he dropped his bundle of deer meat close to where the trapper sat upon the ground, rubbing his ankle.
“It is that same, by the token,” grumbled Pat. “Av yees give me a hand, byes, it’s mesilf will thry to sthand up, and say how well I can walk.”
Willingly each of the lads took hold of an arm, and assisted him to gain an upright position; but, when Pat started bravely to walk, he made a sorry mess of it. He was a game fellow, however, and would not be dismayed.
“Sure, it may pass away afther I’ve given the ould thing a little exercise, like, and av yees say the worrd we’ll pick up our packs and do be goin’ on our way, rejoicin’ becase it’s no worrse. What if I’d broke me nick—that would have been a nice pickle for a man to be in!”
He even insisted on carrying his share of the venison, though Bob protested; but Pat was a stubborn man.
“Think av all the mouths to be fed, would ye; and why should I lit it lay here, where it wull do no good at all, at all, save to fill the stomach av a wolf, or make a wildcat feel happy? Sure it goes along wid me if I can limp.”
And it did,—that is, for some little time, though Pat had to call for a stop, and rest, every hundred yards. Once he proposed that the two boys desert him, and make for the place where the boat was tied up above.
“’Tis only a matter av a mile or so, me lads,” he said, “an’ I’m dead sure ye’d be able to find the same widout much throuble. In good time Pat would come limpin’ into camp. Kape the river on your lift, that do be all yees have to do.”
“Well, that’s something we’ll never do, Pat, desert a comrade in trouble,” was the vehement reply of Bob; and Sandy was even more emphatic; so the pleased Irish trapper had to be content with the way things were going.
“We’ve got the whole night before us,” Bob remarked, in a low voice, for Pat had warned them to be careful, because there was no telling what might be abroad in the big timber bordering the river.
“And once we get aboard the flatboat,” continued Sandy, in the same vein, “Pat can have his sprain looked after by mother; and there’s no need of him setting his weight on that foot again till it’s well.”
It was at one of the resting spells that something occurred to Bob.
“I was thinking,” he remarked in a whisper, “that, if we looked around, we might find some good stuff here.”
“Stuff for what?” asked Sandy.
“To make a litter out of,” replied Bob.
“Oh! you mean so that we could carry Pat between us, and the venison, too,” Sandy whispered back.
“Yes, what do you think of it, Sandy?”
“Seems like a good idea to me; and, if you say the word, I’ll begin to look about here right now, Bob,” the other answered.
He was about to make the first move when Pat, who had been listening, broke in upon the conversation of the brothers.
“A litter is it that yees would be afther makin’,” he remarked, quickly; “and to kerry me to camp like I was a dead soldier, so it be? Wull, I’ve no objections to ye makin’ wan av the same to kerry the mate; but, by me faith, ye’ll niver get Pat O’Mara to rist his bones on that litter unless he is out av his mind. An’ av ye be falin’ like another spell, lit’s be away.”
Of course, after that Bob could not insist, for only too well did he know the independent spirit of the Irish trapper. As long as Pat could put one foot to the ground he would persist in moving along; nor could Bob prevail on him to either throw his burden away, or divide it up between the other two.
“I’ll do me share av the worrk, or know the rason why,” Pat would answer back, every time the idea was mentioned; and, as long as he showed this obstinate streak, they could do nothing but let him have his way.
Bob was keeping his wits about him all this while. He noticed the direction they were taking, and could even give a pretty fair guess as to the distance yet to be traversed before they could hope to reach the tied-up boat.
“I don’t believe we are more than a single mile away from them now; is that so, Pat?” he asked, as they sat there, resting again.
“Sure, ye do be a smart lad, Bob,” replied the other, in his usual whisper, which the boys had come to imitate, though it gave a very mysterious air to their surroundings; “and, av I do know annything at all, that’s about the distance we sthill have to cover. But don’t be worryin’ about me; for I tell yees I can make it by hook or by crook. It ain’t often as Pat O’Mara—whist, he sthill now, both av yees!”
Bob felt a sudden thrill as the Irish trapper finished his sentence in this surprising manner. He knew what it must mean only too well. Pat had keen ears, even as he also possessed the eyes of a hawk. His long life in the woods had made him the equal of a redskin in these respects, as well as many others pertaining to following a faint trail, reading signs from the track of a wild animal, big or small, and such tricks as Indians know from boyhood.
It was plainly evident from his manner that he had either seen or heard something suspicious, and, under the circumstances, this could only mean hostile Indians.
Bob saw that the other was looking away toward the left, which was where the river must lie, for it had been their intention, after striking the water, to try to follow up the shore, hoping to take advantage of the shallow strip of open that often lay between the margin of the river and the dense woods.
At the moment they happened to be down in a sort of shallow gully. A low ridge arose between the spot where they rested and the river. The moon was very nearly half full and, where the great trees did not shut out the light, it was easy to see the top of this small ridge, for it happened to be bald in places.
Pat was staring straight upward toward one of these open spots; and Bob naturally allowed his eyes to travel in the same quarter. He heard Sandy give a low gasp; nor did Bob blame his brother in the least for thus allowing an indication of his astonishment and dismay to escape him.
For against the clear sky, plainly outlined in the moonlight, there was a figure, walking swiftly along the ridge, and heading up the river. There was no need for any one to explain what those feathers stuck in the scalplock meant, for Bob knew he was looking upon an Indian in his war dress. Doubtless, had he been closer, the paint that was daubed upon his cheeks and forehead could have been seen. Even the gun he carried, undoubtedly purchased by a bundle of rich furs from the French traders of the Mississippi posts, could be seen, as he picked his way across the little gap in the dark intervening forest, and then vanished beyond.
But already a second warrior had come into view, following closely in the footsteps of the leading brave, it seemed. He, too, was decked out for war, if those feathers that stood upright signified all the boys believed they did, and a gun was clasped in his hand, just as with the first dark spectre.
A third was in view even before the second had passed beyond the limits of the watchers’ vision. A fourth came trailing along, then a fifth; and the grim procession continued to move along like a column of nightmare ghosts, until Bob had unconsciously counted twenty-two of the savages.
What a narrow escape they had had! Suppose either he or Sandy had been unwise enough to talk beyond the whisper which cautious Pat instituted as the margin of safety, what chance would they have had against such a host of cruel foes?
They waited for a minute or so, fearful lest there might be a straggler who had fallen a little distance behind the rest; but, when none appeared, Bob felt safe in speaking in the guarded tone used before.
“That was a close shave, now, I’m telling you,” he said, drawing a long breath. “If we’d been moving at the time, I’m afraid they’d have discovered us long before we did them.”
“Yis,” grumbled Pat, “wid me makin’ all the noise av a granehorn in the woods, a-draggin’ me lift lig afther me. But sure, that’s not the worrst av it, byes. Did ye not notice the direction the bog trotters do be goin’?”
“Up the river!” said Sandy, quickly.
“And the flatboat lies there, not more than a mile away!” gasped Bob, feeling suddenly cold all over, as a spasm of dread took possession of him.
“Oh! how can we warn them?” asked Sandy, getting to his feet, as though sorely tempted to start on a run for the river, so that he could try to make the camp before the murderous Indians reached it.
“Whist! be aisy now, and we’ll thry and find some way to do the same,” remarked Pat, as he painfully arose, and made ready to clutch hold of the impetuous lad, if there was any sign that Sandy really contemplated giving them the slip.
“But something ought to be done at once,” remonstrated the other, his voice filled with emotion, as he thought of the loved ones who might be caught unawares by the savages and fall victims to their cruel tomahawks and knives. “Don’t you think either Bob or myself might get there ahead of them, if we went along the edge of the river? Please, Pat, think quick now, if ever you did in all your life.”
“’Tis that same I’m doin’, me bye,” the trapper replied. “Ye must pull up, and howld yer horses. ’Tis a time to do the right thing, or be the same token ye’re apt to ruin the whole business. Just stop and remimber that afore we lift camp I arranged all that wid yer father.”
“The signals, you mean, Pat?” asked Sandy, while Bob gulped down the lump in his throat that had threatened to choke him, for a sudden sense of relief had come to him.
“The same, Sandy,” the trapper replied, laying a kindly hand on the arm of the excited boy. “Rist aisy now, would ye, for we have it in our power to sind warmin’ to lit thim know danger hangs over the camp; and that they must git aboord, and cut loose down the strame widout delay. But, befoore we sind that warrnin’, ’tis only the parrt av wisdom, do ye say, to lit the inimy cover more ground, so that we do be havin’ a chanct to make our iscape, in case they sind back a parrt av their number to look us up.”
Sandy, after all, could be reasonable, once he grasped the breadth of a plan, and he hastened to declare his reliance on the shrewdness of the Irish trapper.
“You’re right, Pat,” he said, huskily; “but oh! don’t wait too long; make it soon!”
How those seconds dragged, to the two impatient boys! They seemed, each one, to be hours in length, so eager were the lads to send the warning.
But Pat, who kept quite cool, knew what he was doing. He was also well aware of the fact that, in their eagerness to save the others, the boys would not take any precaution with reference to themselves; and, as a consequence, must fall victims to the fury of the baffled savages.
Pat’s idea was to save both parties; and this was why he meant to allow a certain amount of time to elapse before informing those at the boat of the impending peril, which they could only avoid by immediate flight.
“Come, lit us be thryin’ to cross the ridge, me byes,” said Pat, picking up his bundle of meat with the old-time obstinacy that would not give in.
“The ridge!” echoed Sandy, in dismay, as he fell in behind, when they had started.
“Sure, we have to git beyant the same, av we hope to make the river,” the Irish trapper went on to say.
“Then do you hope to follow up the water, and get there ahead of them?” gasped the boy, in sore distress, as he contemplated the slow progress the limping man was making at the time.
“I do not, be the same token,” answered Pat; “but the closer we are to the river, the better for us, when we do be thryin’ to work down strame, afther warrnin’ the camp, d’ye mind.”
“Oh! I see now what you mean,” Sandy whispered, keeping close behind the other. “After we’ve sent the signal, we must hurry as fast as we can down the river, so as to put a lot of distance between us. Then, when the boat comes along, we have to hail them, and wade out to get aboard. Is that what you figure on, Pat?”
“Yees have hit the tarrget in the bull’s-eye, Sandy; and now, arrah, please close up shop; it do be harrd climbin’ the ridge, and we nade ivery bit av breath to kerry us over the same.”
Under ordinary conditions the task would not have given them much trouble; but bearing such heavy burdens, and with Pat able to make such poor headway, it took them some little time to gain the top of the ridge.
Bob fancied that they must be about in the same spot as where they had seen the grim line of fighting men outlined against the sky. He hoped there would be no one below to notice their passage at the time.
“Do we fire the shots from here!” asked Sandy.
“Not yit,” replied the trapper; “we must git down near the river first. Depind on it, there do be plenty av time yit. The hathen wud crape along, afther gettin’ above, and I’m thinkin’ it might be all av half an hour afore they could rach the camp. Long afore thin we’ll have our frinds a-sailin’ down the river as nice as pie. Lave it to me, byes, and I do promise ye all will be well.”
And so Sandy had to repress his desire to yell, or fire his gun, or do something rash, in the hope of sending the alarm all the way over that mile of territory, so as to start the people on the flatboat down the river.
They had less trouble in descending, though Pat grunted considerably as he frequently wrenched that lame ankle, in his efforts to walk. They could see the river shining in the light of the moon, when openings occurred in the trees. It seemed to have the appearance of an old friend. And how glad they would be when they glimpsed the boat moving along with the current, and a safe distance from the dangerous shore.
“Now, I think it be time,” said Pat, presently, when they had gained a spot at least half-way down the side of the bluff.
“Tell us what we are to do, Pat,” remarked Bob, as he deposited his share of the venison on the ground, and took his gun in both hands.
Sandy was already prepared to carry out his share of the programme; for he always did things with great rapidity.
“The arrangemint was this,” said the trapper, impressively. “Three shots, aich about five seconds afther the wan afoore. Thin wait a minute or so, till we could reload our guns, whin the same thing was to be done agin. That winds up the performance. Are yees riddy?”
Both boys answered in the affirmative.
“Thin, Sandy, do ye fire first; and Bob, whin I say the worrd, lit fly. As for mesilf, I’ll wind up the first relay in great style. Go it, Sandy!”
Instantly the boy raised his gun, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud report, for those old-fashioned flint-lock muskets held a large charge of powder, and the wad was usually well rammed before the bullet followed it home.
“Now, Bob!” and hardly had the words been spoken by the trapper than the second report rang out.
Sandy was already feverishly reloading, when Pat followed with a third shot.
“I wonder what the Indians will think when they hear that volley?” Bob remarked.
“It’s going to puzzle them a lot to make it out,” Sandy declared. “But what if those at the boat shouldn’t hear our signal, Pat?”
“There do be no danger at all av that, son,” replied the trapper, readily. “Becase we did not turrn up be darrk, they are likely listenin’ for signs. And, av yees notice, the night wind is crapin’ up the river, comin’ from the west; so that the sound av the guns was kerried straight away to the camp. Ready, Sandy? Thin let fly!”
Once again was the programme carried out as before, the three shots punctuating the stillness of the night.
“And now ’tis away we go, headin’ for the idge av the river,” said Pat, again shouldering that prized venison, which, if once taken safely on board the boat, would be well earned, indeed.
They soon came to the bank of the river, and just as had been expected, found that the walking was better if they kept close to the water’s edge. In places they might have to push through some dense copse that persisted in growing to the water’s edge; but, on the whole, it proved to be a wise move.
Of course they headed down-stream. This was done in order to put as great a distance as possible between the Indians and themselves; for later on they hoped to have an opportunity to get aboard the flatboat; and it meant a good deal to them all if the enemy at that time happened to be some distance away.
All the while the boys were anxiously listening for sounds from the rear. Naturally they were picturing all sorts of terrible things as happening to the crew and passengers of the floating home on the water.
And, when suddenly a series of fierce yells broke out, Sandy and Bob stopped in their tracks, shivering with fear.
Pat, however, only chuckled. He could read between the lines, and hence knew the true meaning of those loud cries.
“Sure they do be as mad as a wit hin,” he remarked, as a number of gunshots came to their ears, still accompanied by those shouts.
“Then you think our friends have escaped, do you, Pat?” inquired Sandy, eagerly.
“I do be sure av the same,” was the prompt answer.
“But listen to the firing that is going on!” Sandy continued.
“It is all on the wan side, I warrant ye, lad,” the trapper declared, with firm conviction in his manner.
“Yes, for I know the sound of those hateful French guns. They do not make the same kind of report as our own weapons,” Bob ventured to say. “And that means the Indians are just firing away at the floating boat, to give vent to their fury because their prey has escaped.”
“What if they follow the boat down the river, and come on us when we are trying to get aboard?” his brother asked, still seeing trouble ahead.
“To be sure, there might be a chanct av the same happenin’,” Pat admitted; “but we’ll have to risk it, I fear, lads. Av we can only get to that point av land ye say below there, it would be a great place to step aboord, becase the boat must pass close by it.”
“And for the same reason the Indians are likely to think of it, and hurry here, in hopes of getting the same chance,” remarked Bob.
But all the same, he knew that Pat had planned wisely. There was really nothing else for them to do, unless they wished to allow the boat to pass on down-stream, and wait for them far below. That would necessitate the making of a temporary raft out of some big log, and floating down to rejoin their friends.
The lame trapper hurried as much as he could, utterly regardless of the pain the effort caused him, and in this way they presently reached the point of land that thrust out into the river.
“Perhaps they’ve already gone by?” suggested Sandy, when they failed to see anything of the floating house above their hiding-place.
“I hardly think there’s been time for that,” Bob replied. “The current is only about four miles an hour, Pat told us; and, unless my figuring is wrong, it would take them nearly half an hour to get past here. And we have been no such time making this point; have we, Pat?”
“’Tis right yees are, me bye,” replied the trapper; and he did not say more, for he was scanning the surface of the river as well as he was able.
“But it seems to me there’s a river fog coming up from below,” declared Sandy.
“Yes, that’s a fact,” admitted Bob; “I noticed that myself; but it isn’t going to be so thick we couldn’t see the flatboat passing anywhere this side of the middle of the stream.”
All relapsed into silence. The deepest anxiety prevailed, for it meant a tremendous lot to the three wanderers if they should be so unfortunate as to miss the boat, and be thrown on their own resources, with a lame comrade on their hands in the bargain.
“Do you see anything, Bob?” whispered Sandy, presently, when the silence began to seem unbearable.
“I believe I do,” came the reply. “There, Pat has caught it, too; for I can tell from his actions. Yes, it’s a moving object away up yonder; and I do believe, Sandy, it is the boat, coming at last!”
“How can we let them know we’re here, so they’ll push in close enough, and anchor, while some one comes for us in the dugout?” Sandy inquired.
Pat had prepared for that, too, it seemed.
“I’m to flash a bit av powder to till them we’re waitin’ beyant the p’int av land,” he remarked; “and ’tis mesilf as had better be gettin’ ready to do the same in a hurry, for they do be comin’ along right fast.”
He placed a small amount of the precious powder on a stone, and then held his flint and steel in readiness until such time as the boat came close enough to suit his purpose.
Then it was no effort for the experienced trapper to send a spark into the little pile of powder, which went off instantly, giving a brief but vivid flash.
All eyes were on the advancing flatboat, for it was a matter of importance to them to know whether the signal had been seen or not.
“There, they know we are here, and want to get aboard!” exclaimed Sandy, as a single shot came from the deck of the boat.
“If any of the Indians were on the watch, and saw the flash of powder, as well as the gunshot, they might give a guess what we were up to,” Bob remarked.
“We’ll hope, then, they gave up chasing after the boat, when they saw it was no use,” Sandy added.
The flatboat was now close by, and they could even see moving figures on the deck. The two boys felt positive that among them were their anxious parents; and the fact made them all the more eager to get safely aboard.
“Now they’re going to anchor!” declared Sandy; “and I can see somebody dropping back into the dugout that trails astern. Let’s get ready to put our meat aboard, and follow with ourselves.”
Immediately the small boat started straight for the end of the tongue of land, as though the paddler knew that those he sought were apt to be close by that point. Still grunting with his painful ankle, Pat insisted on picking up his share of the venison, with which he limped forward.
It was Mr. Armstrong himself who came in the dugout. So eager was he to make sure that both his boys were safe, that he would not let any one else attempt this part of the rescue work.
Sandy started to tell what had happened, but Bob stopped all talk, and urged him to get in the boat without a second’s delay, after all the venison, together with the lame trapper, had been deposited there.
There would be plenty of time for explanations later on, when danger did not hang so heavily over their heads.
With all his might Mr. Armstrong urged the little craft, now really overloaded, out toward the anchored flatboat. At any second Bob expected to hear the shout of a coming brave, and perhaps have the report of a gun break upon his ear. Until they had clambered aboard the larger craft, he did not feel that they could call themselves safe.
But when finally every one of them had climbed over the side, both Sandy and Bob felt like giving a shout of thanksgiving.
They were met by the fond arms of their mother, and pressed to her heart; for no one knew all that she must have suffered after hearing those terribly significant six shots, telling them cruel foes were abroad, and that they must apparently abandon the three who were ashore.
The anchor had hardly been raised than one of the men reported seeing shadowy figures flitting along the tongue of land; but as the unwieldy craft again commenced to pass down with the current, and they knew that once more the foe had been left in the lurch, those on board gave free rein to their joy in loud cheers.
A few disappointed yells announced that they had not passed on any too soon; and the boys decided that they had great reason to be thankful over their narrow escape.
And later on, when the dearly-won venison was lifted out of the dugout that trailed astern, the thought of having fresh meat gave them all much satisfaction.
Of course the boys had to tell their story over and over again, while many questions were asked regarding the coming of the Indians.
“How do you think they knew we were there?” asked Mr. Harkness.
“Pat says a brave must have sighted the boat, and followed it until we came to land,” remarked Bob. “Then he hastened to his village, which may be back here a few miles, and a war party was hurriedly made up. Only for our discovering them as they passed along that ridge, the end might not be so nice as it is.”
It was determined that their best course would be to put boldly across the river, and pass down the northern shore. This could be accomplished by means of the big sweeps; and already several of the men were working them.
An hour or two later they were in touch with the northern side of the stream; and, as the moon began to show signs of setting, they determined to anchor, as the recent scare had taken away all desire to tie up to the shore.
There was no further trouble that night, and another morning found them in high spirits. Pat’s sprain still bothered him, more or less, and would for some days to come; but Mrs. Armstrong had bound some of her wonderful healing salve upon the swollen ankle, and the trapper declared he was doing much better than he had even hoped would be the case.
A day of peace followed. They drifted along not a great distance from the shore, and yet keeping away from any dangerous points, where enemies might be in hiding, bent on getting a shot at the white voyagers.
Sandy did more or less fishing as they went, and had some success, though he found it better to delay his best efforts until they were tied up for the night. As for Bob, he noticed that there were still flocks of wild fowl on the river at various points, and, longing to bag a few, he awaited his time, when a shot was apt to count, and then showed what a good marksman he was.
Altogether they were doing splendidly, and had little cause for complaint when night closed in around them. They tied up this time, for there had been no sign of Indians the livelong day, and, as Pat was in no condition to scout around, one of the men volunteered to take his place. When he came in later, he declared that, so far as he could discover, there was not an enemy within ten miles of them.
That night passed without any alarm, for which all of them felt very thankful, since they had lost considerable sleep the night before; and it seemed like old times to be able to repose in comfort, only arousing to take a turn at sentry duty, according to the routine arranged.
The next day was really a repetition of that peaceful one. Sandy declared that he thought all the bad Indians must be on the Kentucky side of the Ohio, and that, if they were wise, they would remain on the northern shore from that time on; but Pat gave him to understand that it was six of one and half a dozen of the other, since marauding bands were constantly on the move, visiting between villages, or joining forces for a raid against the settlements of the hated palefaces.
It was about the middle of the afternoon when one of the men declared that he felt sure he had heard the distant report of firearms, and what seemed to be faint yells, from some point down the river.
Of course this excited everybody aboard the flatboat, from the oldest man down to the children, who were of an age to appreciate the perils by which they were constantly surrounded.
Some little time afterwards there was a cry raised that a man had been seen running over an elevation on the shore, and hotly pursued, it seemed, by the Indians.
Mr. Armstrong, realizing that perhaps another crisis was impending, ordered that the women and children should remain in the shelter of the cabin, while the rest crouched on deck, awaiting the turn of events.
“I see him now!” cried Sandy; “and, sure enough, he’s pushing for the river as fast as his legs will carry him.”
“And there come the savages chasing after him,” declared Bob. “There, now one stops, and sends an arrow, while another fires his gun; but he still runs on, and I do not think they could have hit him, because he keeps dodging this way and that all the time, to make them miss.”
“Begorra, now, p’raps they don’t be afther wantin’ to hit him,” suggested Pat, who was with the others, watching the stirring scene.
“Oh! he means that this may only be another trick of the Indians, meant to get us to draw in closer, so that the rest, who are hidden among the bushes, can pour in a volley, and then rush the boat,” Sandy burst out.
“And this time, make yer mind up,” said Pat, grimly, “av I have rason to belave the omadhaun is only a turncoat a-tryin’ to lure us in to be kilt, I’ve a good mind to knock him over, as he desarves.”
“I’d go very slow about that, Pat,” advised Mr. Armstrong.
“For what would ye be sayin’ the likes av that, sor?” asked the trapper, moving his long-barrelled rifle up a little further, as though eager to begin operations right away.
“You can see that he’s jumped into the water now, and is wading boldly out, as though he meant to swim out to us when we come along. There, he stands up to his middle in the river, and levels his rifle. Did you see that savage fall when he fired? Does that look as if he was a renegade, Pat?”
“Arrah! if we only knew that the hathan were kilt, I’d belave ye, sor; but they do be sindin’ in a hape of shots in return; and look at the water splash around his head as he swims away. Some of the balls do be strikin’ mighty clost, it sames to me.”
“Yes, too close to be fired at a friend and ally,” Mr. Armstrong went on; “and I am positive they were meant to bring him down. There, he shakes his fist at them now, and laughs, as though he did not know the meaning of the word fear.”
“It seems to me I have heard that laugh before,” exclaimed Sandy, eagerly.
“Right ye are, laddy,” said Pat, suddenly rousing himself, and lowering his gun.
Mr. Armstrong was leaning forward, and surveying the swimmer closely, as though he, too, had detected certain familiar features in connection with the party.
“You’ll always be glad you didn’t fire so hastily, Pat,” he declared; “for upon my word I do believe yonder man who acts as though he were determined to come aboard our craft is none other than our friend, Simon Kenton, the borderer, who mocks the efforts of the Indians to finish him, and has been held a prisoner, doomed to the stake, more times than any man along the Ohio!”
The swimmer had timed himself so as to reach the side of the flatboat as it swung past; and, in order to create a diversion in his favor, Pat called on his friends to send in a hot fire among the charging Indians.
This had the effect of making them scamper for shelter; and meanwhile Kenton managed to get on the other side of the floating craft. Eager hands were outstretched to assist him over the side. He was still laughing, as though he considered the whole thing a joke. And the very first thing he did upon reaching the deck of the boat was to shake his fist in the direction of the hidden foes, and shout some derisive words in the Shawanee tongue toward them. (Note 10.)
They were soon far below the dangerous spot; and, after Kenton had regained his breath, he proceeded to explain how it all happened.
He had learned, while hunting with a party of friends, that the Indians over in Kentucky were once more on the war-path, and that Boonesborough itself was threatened with extinction.
Faithful to his best friend, Daniel Boone, Kenton, after trying in vain to coax the other hunters to join him, had alone started for the Ohio, meaning to cross over, and make his way to the scene of action by fast stages.
He had had the misfortune to fall upon a party of Shawanees, and, after a fierce battle, was taken prisoner, and carried to their village.
“But, as usual, they could not hold you,” remarked Mr. Armstrong.
“Oh! I knew that was what would happen,” replied the woodsman, lightly. “And I managed to escape in good season, for time was worth something to me, since my rifle is needed for the defence of Boonesborough. After I am refreshed I will only ask you to put me ashore over yonder,” and he pointed across the rolling river, to where lay the hilly shore of the “Dark and Bloody Ground,” as Kentucky was well called in those early days.
“Then we must start without delay, and you shall have a bite to eat before you leave us,” said Mr. Armstrong; after which he gave orders to have the course of the flatboat changed, heading once more across the river.
The women were soon engaged in preparing supper, so that Kenton might not be detained longer than was absolutely necessary, and, some of the venison having been held over, it came in very handy for that purpose.
Meantime there was an exchange of stories between them, Kenton being desirous of learning why they were here, so far away from the home in which he had last met them. Thus he heard about the flood, and the determination of the settlers making up the party to head into the west, and seek a new home on the bank of the wonderful Mississippi.
Of course this sort of pluck appealed to such a bold nature as that of Simon Kenton. He told them they were doing the right thing, and related many facts connected with the Promised Land, some gleaned from others, and a few through personal observation on some of his wanderings, that quite naturally further strengthened their resolution, which may have been becoming a little weak in a few of the party, after their recent trials on the river.
By the time the boat drew near the Kentucky shore supper was ready; so the anchor was thrown overboard, and the entire company sat down to enjoy the feast the good wives had prepared.
If the variety of food was not so extensive, there was at least enough in quantity and to spare; and, with the appetites that went with their life in the open, this was usually the main thing.
Kenton begged a little more powder and ball from Mr. Armstrong, and it was only too willingly given, for they knew that he had a difficult trail to follow, and they could in imagination see the dangers that peopled it.
Just as darkness was settling over the land and water Bob and Sandy took the young borderer ashore in the dugout, only too proud of the chance to do him a favor. And Kenton, having shaken hands with them at parting, Sandy sighed upon looking after him when he disappeared among the great trees that lined the shore.
“Come, get aboard here, Sandy,” urged his brother, who knew well what vague thoughts and ambitions must he flitting through the other’s mind just then, because he was aware of Sandy’s desire to follow in the footsteps of Simon Kenton, who had ever been the hero the boy admired.
And all the way back to the anchored flatboat Sandy maintained a grim silence, though Bob knew it would wear off after a bit, and the boy become his usual merry self. The truth of the matter was, Sandy possessed an adventurous spirit, and chafed under restraint. He admired the free nature of Kenton, who came and went as the whim urged him, being under contract to no man. And then, too, the very recklessness of the young borderer appealed to Sandy, who was inclined in that direction himself.
Another quiet night followed, and once more the voyagers were on their way. It would not be a great while now before they reached the small post on the Ohio bank called by the name of Fort Washington, in honor of the American soldier who was attracting general attention at the time, and seemed to be the only Continental who might lead the armies of the colonists in case the threatened rupture with the Mother Country came about.
Again did they cross the river, for knowing that they would at any time come in sight of the post, they wanted to be in a position to make a landing. Here, safe for a time, they could rest, having completed the first stage of their long and hazardous journey to the Mississippi.
It was Sandy who first discovered a flag floating from a staff, and, although, at the time, the banner of England was beginning to lose some of its attractiveness for the colonists, still, when seen under those conditions, after having been beset by the savage foe for many days and nights, they gave it a cheer.
The post had only been recently established, and, while visited by all wandering hunters and trappers who roamed the country in search of game and adventure, there were only a few families staying there. The arrival of a flatboat was an event calculated to greatly excite the garrison of the post, and consequently our friends received a warm welcome.
It was nice to feel that for a short time at least they could lie down to sleep without dreading lest they be aroused by the savage war-whoops of the cruel foe, always ready to overpower any daring settler or trapper of the hated palefaces.
Bob and Sandy were glad to get ashore again. The latter wished very much for a chance to take a hunt into the forests that at this time completely flanked the little station in the cup between the several hills, and facing the river; but to this Mr. Armstrong would not give his consent.
They had learned that the various Indian tribes were in something of a ferment, with such leaders as the notorious Pontiac urging them on to a confederation, the object of which was to drive out the encroaching white man from their hunting grounds. And several times, of late, those who ventured out beyond the stockade of the new post had been fired on, showing that crafty enemies lurked near by all the while, ready to take advantage of any opportunity to secure a scalp.
Several days passed while they lingered here, for it was very pleasant, and the adventurous settlers knew that they would not have a chance to see their kind again for a long while.
Coming upon Bob one afternoon, after they had heard that the start was to be made on the following morning, Sandy found his brother looking at some small object which he immediately recognized.
It was the last piece of curled birch bark, on which their unknown friend had written his message of warning, using the picture language of the Indian, so universally known throughout all the tribes.
“Oh! I had forgotten all about that,” Sandy burst out; “and, now that we’ve come so far away from our home up on the Ohio, I suppose we’ll never know who sent these friendly warnings, and just why.”
“That’s something I was wondering about,” replied Bob. “Now, here’s the arrow to which this message was fastened; and wouldn’t you say this one had been made by just the same cunning hand?”
He reached behind him, and placed a second shaft beside the first arrow. Sandy bent his head to examine them more closely. Then he looked up again.
“What do you mean, Bob, and where did you get that second Delaware arrow?” he demanded, quickly.
“Where but in the roof of our flatboat cabin,” returned the other. “It had been fired from up on the hills back yonder, I do believe; though the marksman must have been a rare one to hit a target so far away. But it bore no birch-bark message, though I can well believe it was sent just to tell us our strange friend, who has watched over us so many times, is still following us down the river, and means to keep up with us to the end. That Indian, Sandy, must believe he owes us a heavy debt of gratitude, and he means to pay it back, some way or other.”
And Sandy, handling the feathered shaft, had a feeling almost of awe steal over him, as he reflected what gratitude must stand for in the eyes of an Indian brave. Hundreds of miles this unknown friend had already travelled, trying to stand between the boys and harm; and the end was not yet.
“Oh! I do hope we know who he is some of these days,” the boy said, soberly.
“I’m glad to be afloat once more!”
Of course that could be no one but Sandy making such a remark, under the circumstances. He was leaning over the side of the bulwark of the flatboat, and looking back up the river toward Fort Washington.
It was all very nice, stopping with friends who were interested in their welfare, as all pioneers must be; but for Sandy delay became monotonous. He liked action, and plenty of it.
Besides, his ambition to set eyes on that wonderful river of the west grew in volume, the further they advanced along their journey. It was now in the nature of a passion with the lad. And of course, his father and mother would never be happy again until they had selected a location for the new homestead in the wilderness bordering the Mississippi; so the sooner they reached their destination the better Sandy—yes, and Bob also—would be pleased.
Their plans had been talked over so often at the frontier post that several others manifested a desire to accompany the four families to the country they had heard so much about; but, although Mr. Armstrong declared he would be only too well pleased to have such a noble addition to their number, the capacity of the flatboat had already been reached, so that there was really no opportunity to stow even one more family on board.
It was settled, however, that they would leave some sign of their location, if the opportunity came about; or, failing that, get word back to these new friends, so that they too might build an ark, and float down to the Mississippi in turn, to join their fortunes with those of the first adventurous party.
Bob was not far away from his brother when Sandy made the remark with which this chapter opens, and he smiled to hear what the younger lad said.
“Well, I can understand what you mean, Sandy,” he replied, “for I feel a little that way myself. But just now I was wondering where he can be, and how he makes his way across from one side of the river to the other?”
“Oh! now you’re speaking of the mysterious Indian who sends those Delaware arrows every little while, and seems to mean to keep along with us, just like he was a shadow?” the other returned.
“Hardly that, Sandy,” said Bob, “because you can see a shadow; but never once up to now have either of us set eyes on this queer friend who likes to work in secret. Think of how far away from his village he must have wandered; and it begins to look as if we might have him around to protect us even after we get to our new home down below.”
“I heard father speaking about another difficulty we have ahead of us, which is the falls of the Ohio, down about where Harrodsburg lies,” Bob went on presently.
“Oh! will we have to abandon our fine flatboat there, and take up the journey on foot?” cried Sandy, to whom the thought of a falls meant some grand cataract, like the famous one at Niagara, of which he had heard many times.
“Well, if there is water enough in the river, we expect to pass right through; but, if there seems to be any danger, father says he will anchor the boat above, and either investigate the conditions himself, or find some man who knows the channel. Hunters and trappers are used to passing down that way, and shoot through without bothering themselves about danger. And we’ll get along all right, I guess, Sandy.”
“Then the falls aren’t so very high, after all?” asked the other, heaving a sigh of genuine relief.
“Oh! no,” laughed Bob; “they are what some hunters call rapids. At high water you’d never know they were there, Pat says. He has seen the place only once, and never shot them, so father could hardly depend on him for a pilot. But you wait and see. We are in too great luck to get wrecked on the rocks like that. There will be a way for us to get through.”
Several days later they saw smoke ashore, and discovered a party of hunters in camp. They were a hardy lot, ready to fight Indians as cheerfully as they were willing to shoot deer or buffalo.
The flatboat was anchored as close to the shore as seemed wise, and Mr. Armstrong invited the others to come out and visit; but they said they had no boat. One of them Pat immediately recognized.
“Sure that looks like me ould frind, Jo Davies,” he remarked; and the man hearing what he said, called back:
“Just who it is, Pat O’Mara, and glad to see you again.”
Thereupon Pat became wild to take the boat and go ashore after the hunter who had more than once been in his company when on the trail, or a trapping expedition.
Of course, by this time Pat’s lame ankle had mended so that he could walk about as well as ever, though for perhaps a whole year he would have to favor the left foot a little, when he could.
He brought the four men out with him, and they spent a couple of hours aboard, asking for the latest news from the distant sea-coast.
In this far away country news travelled very slowly; yet evidently these pioneers understood the conditions existing between the Crown and the rebellious colonies; for their first question was whether there had been an open break as yet.
The moon had come and gone, so that there was no longer a chance to float down the river after nightfall, since it would be too dangerous in the darkness. Accordingly they determined to spend the night where they were, supper being cooked ashore, after the boat had been urged in by means of the stout poles.
The four hunters remained to partake with them, and Jo Davies even promised to stay with the party to see them safely over the falls, which he said were just below a few miles, and would be reached early on the morrow. Afterwards, he would rejoin his companions at a certain rendezvous; when the bold quartette, already on their way back from the Mississippi, where they had been annoying the French trappers exceedingly, intended setting out for that region where the settlements founded by Boone were struggling hard to hold their own against the savage foe.
Thus they found the needed pilot; for Jo Davies had been over the ground many times, so that he knew well the channel that was safest, between the rocks that might destroy the boat if an inexperienced hand sought to show the way.
This undertaking was successfully accomplished on the next day. The boys were of course particularly fascinated by the passage of the falls of the Ohio. Sandy was sorry when it had been accomplished, and they were safely moored to the bank below the dangerous zone. But as for Bob, he breathed much easier; for at one time he had feared that they were bound to strike heavily against a snag that looked wicked enough to do them considerable damage, and perhaps bring about a wreck.
But now all was well; and presently, after they had put their kind friend ashore again, so that he might rejoin the other three hunters and hasten to the assistance of their old comrade, Boone, they could resume the voyage with no further obstacle in the way worth mentioning.
And now began glorious days for the boys. They could see the wooded hills of Kentucky on the left, and the prairie lands of what is now Indiana and Illinois off to the right, across the widening river. Crossing over, they even went ashore at a place where there seemed to be no danger of an Indian ambush, and here spent one whole day.
During that time Mr. Armstrong and the other heads of families showed a keen interest in the nature of the soil, and the wonderful growth of flowers and grass that it seemed to support, all of which pleased them immensely.
Of course Sandy and Bob, being wild for another hunt after fresh meat, easily persuaded their father to let them go forth; and, as before, Pat accompanied them.
As they had discovered many signs that showed that buffalo roamed over these prairie lands, the young hunters were of course eager to get a chance to shoot one of these animals. Such splendid quarry would yield a good supply of fresh meat, and be a change besides from the jerked venison, of which they were growing heartily tired.
In this particular Pat’s previous acquaintance with the country came into good service. He knew just where the buffalo were apt to be found at that time of day, and at the season of the year, for it was now not far from early summer.
“We’ll be afther takin’ up our way among thim bunches av trees beyant the knoll yonder,” he remarked, leading them forth; “and the chances be tin to wan we’ll say somethin’ worth while before we come back. Be aisy now, and walk in Injun file, bendin’ low, an’ saying niver so much as a single worrd.”
They went in this way for a mile or more, and then Pat declared he knew they were near the game. Sure enough, peeping up over the top of the tall grass in which they were hidden, the boys discovered that a number of buffalo were either eating lazily, or else lying down; for the sun seemed rather hot at this noonday hour, and the shade cast by the foliage of the trees felt grateful.
How to crawl close enough to pour in a hot fire was the question Pat had to decide; but it did not give him any great amount of trouble to settle that. He noted which way the wind, what little there chanced to be at the time, was blowing; for, in a case like the one now confronting them, that was a prime factor. Then they began to glide along like so many snakes.
From time to time they would cautiously raise their heads, in order to take an observation, and, so far as they could see, the buffalo did not appear to be alarmed.
“We ought soon to be close enough to shoot,” whispered Sandy, after he had raised his head for one of these inspections. “They don’t seem to be afraid of anything right now. Why, would you believe it, there’s a sneaking old gray wolf prowling around there; and none of them pay any attention to him. Looks like they only have fear of wolves when they come in packs.”
“What’s that ye say; a wolf, is it?” whispered Pat; “whist! now, till I be afther takin’ a peep at the same.”
Ten seconds later, and he drew back his head; and Bob could see that there was a black frown on the face of the jovial Irish trapper.
“Bad cess to the luck, it do be surely irritatin’,” he whispered again, as they put their heads close to his. “Be careful now, lads, an’ take another look, to say what that blissed wolf do be afther.”
And as Bob and Sandy did so, they saw the big gray wolf raising up until he almost stood on his hind legs, while the twang of a bow-string came to their astonished ears.