University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

Within an hour after the emigrants had set
out, the sky, which had previously been clear and
radiant, began to be overcast with clouds, dropping
occasional rains, which Roland scarcely observed
with regret, their effect on the sultry atmosphere
being highly agreeable and refreshing.
They continued thus to fall at intervals until nine
o'clock; when Roland, as he sat on the porch debating
with Bruce the probabilities of their continuance,
was roused by a shout from the outer
village, and looking up, he beheld, to his great delight,
Richard Bruce, the second son of his host,
a lad of sixteen, ride into the enclosure, leading in
triumph his recovered charger.

“Thar's the brute, strannger!” said he, with
uncommon glee: “he war too hard a hoss for
Ralph's riding; and, I reckon, if he had n't been,
you would n't have had him so easy, for he's a
peeler at run, trot, or gallop, he is, I tell you! It's
bad luck for Stackpole to be flung by man and
beast two days hand-running,—first by Bloody
Nathan, then by a stolen crittur!”

“And whar is the brute, Stackpole? and what
have you done with him?” demanded Bruce.

“Thar, father, you're too hard for me,” replied
the youth; “but I'll tell you all I know on it.—You
need n't look at his legs, captain, for they're all as
sound as hickory: the crittur's a bit worried with

his morning's work; but that's nothing to speak
on.”

The lad's story was soon told. The track of the
horse-thief had been followed through the woods;
and it was soon seen, from it's irregularity, that
he had made an unlucky selection of beasts, both
being so restive and rebellious, that, it was obvious,
he had found it no easy matter to urge
them along. A place was found where he appeared
to have been thrown by the turbulent
Briareus, which he seemed afterwards to have
pursued, mounted on the pony, in the vain hope
of retaking the mettlesome charger, until persuaded
of his inability, or afraid, from the direction
in which the animal had fled, of being led
back again to the settlement. His track, after
abandoning the chase, was as plain as that left by
the war-horse, and was followed by the main body
of pursuers; while Richard and two or three others,
taking the latter, had the good fortune to find and
recover the animal as he was solacing himself,
after his morning adventures, in a grassy wood,
scarce two miles from the Station. What had become
of Stackpole the lad knew not, but had no
doubt, as he added, with a knowing look, “that
Lynch's boys would soon give a good account of
him; for Major Smalleye war as mad as a beaten
o'ar about the two-y'ar-old pony.”

“Well,” said the father, “I reckon the brute
will deserve all he may come by; and thar's no
use in mourning him. Thar's as good Injun-fighters
as he, left in Kentucky, thar's the comfort;
and thar's no denying, men will be much
easier about their horses.”

With this consoling assurance, in which Roland
saw implied the visitation of the deadliest vengeance
on the head of the offender, Bruce proceeded

to congratulate him on the recovery of
Brown Briareus, and to intimate his readiness,
after the animal had been allowed a little rest,
which it evidently needed, to marshal his band of
young men, and conduct him on his way after the
exiles. But fate willed that the friendly intention
should never be put into execution, and that the
young soldier should go forth on his pilgrimage
unattended and unprotected.

Within the space of half an hour, the clouds,
which seemed previously to have discharged all
their moisture, collected into a dense canopy,
darkening the whole heaven, and rumbling with
thunder, that became every moment louder and
heavier. Then came gusts of wind, groaning
through the forest, rattling among the dead limbs
of the girdled trees, and whistling over the palisades
of the fort. These were succeeded by
louder peals of thunder, and vivid flashes of lightning,
which continued and increased, until the
tempest, for such it was, burst in fury, discharging
deluges of rain, that fell with unintermitting violence
until an hour or more after mid-day.

This was a circumstance, which, as it necessarily
deferred the moment of his setting out, caused
Forrester a little uneasiness; but he soon came to
believe he had reason to congratulate himself on
its occurrence, since it was scarce possible the
band would continue their journey in such a storm;
and, indeed, Bruce was of opinion that the day's
march would be ended on the banks of the river,
—one of the principal forks of the Salt,—but little
more than ten miles from his Station; where, if the
exiles were wise, they would pitch their camp, waiting
for the subsidence of the waters. This was a
point that Roland might be expected to reach in a
ride of three or four hours at most; which consideration

not only satisfied him under the delay,
but almost made him resolve to defer his setting-out
until the following morning, that his kinswoman
might have the advantage of sleeping a second
time under the shelter of a roof, rather than
be compelled to exchange it for the chill and humid
forest.

It was while he was balancing this thought in
his mind, and watching with a gladdened eye the
first flash of sunshine, breaking through the parted
clouds, that a shout, louder than that which had
proclaimed the recovery of his steed, but of a
wild and mournful character, arose from the outer
village, and a horseman, covered with mud, reeking
with rain, and reeling in the saddle with fatigue
and exhaustion, rode into the fort, followed
by a crowd of men, women, and children, all testifying,
by their looks and exclamations, that he
was the bearer of alarming news. And such indeed
he was, as was shown by the first words he
answered in reply to Bruce's demand “what was
the matter?”

“There are a thousand Indians,” he said, “Shawnees,
Delawares, Wyandots, Miamies,—all the
tribes of the North,—laying siege to Bryant's Station,
and perhaps at this moment they are burning
and murdering at Lexington. Men, Colonel
Bruce! send us all your men, without a moment's
delay; and send off for Logan, and his forces; despatch
some one who can ride, for I can sit a
horse no longer.”

“Whar's Dick Bruce?” cried the Kentuckian;
and the son answering, he continued, “Mount the
roan Long-legs, you brute, and ride to St. Asaph's
in no time. Tell Cunnel Logan what you h'ar;
and add, that before he can draw girth, I shall be,
with every fighting-man in my fort, on the north

side of Kentucky. Ride, you brute, ride for your
life; and do you take car' you come along with
the Cunnel; for it's time you war trying your
hand at an Injun top-knot. Ride, you brute,
ride!”

“Wah—wah—wah—wah!” whooped the boy,
like a young Indian, flying to obey the order, and
exulting in the expectation of combat.

“Sound horn, you Samuel Sharp!” cried the
father. “You, Ben Jones, and some more of you,
ride out and rouse the settlements; and, some of
you, hunt up Tom Bruce and the Regulators: it
war a pity they hanged Ralph Stackpole; for he
fights Injuns like a wolverine. Tell all them that
ar'n't ready to start, to follow at a hard gallop,
and join me at the ford of Kentucky; and them
that can't join me thar, let them follow to Lexington;
and them that don't find me thar, let them
follow to Bryant's, or to any-whar whar thar's Injuns!
Hurrah, you brutes! whar's your guns and
your horses? your knives and your tomahawks?
If thar's a thousand Injuns, or the half of 'em,
thar's meat for all of you. Whar's Ikey Jones,
the fifer? Let's have Yankee-Doodle and the
Rogue's March; for, by the etarnal Old Scratch,
all them white-men that ar'n't a-horse-back in
twenty-five minutes, are rogues worse than red
Injuns!—Hurrah for Kentucky!”

The spirit of the worthy officer of militia infused
animation into all bosoms; and, in an instant, the
settlement, late so peaceful, resounded with the
hum and uproar of warlike preparation. Horses
were caught and saddled, rifles pulled from their
perches, knives sharpened, ammunition-pouches and
provender-bags filled, and every other step taken
necessary to the simple equipment of a border

army, called to action in an emergency so sudden
and urgent.

In the meanwhile, the intelligence was not without
its effects on Roland Forrester, who, seeing
himself so unexpectedly deprived of the promised
escort,—for he could scarce think, under such
circumstances, of withdrawing a single man from
the force called to a duty so important,—perceived
the necessity of employing his own resources
to effect escape from a position which he
now felt to be embarrassing. He regretted, for
the first time, his separation from the band of emigrants,
and became doubly anxious to follow
them: for, if it were true that so large a force of
Indians was really in the District, there was every
reason to suppose they would, according to their
known system of warfare, divide into small parties,
and scatter over the whole country, infesting
every road and path; and he knew not how soon
some of them might be found following on the
beels of the messenger. He took advantage of
the first symptom of returning serenity on the
part of his host, to acquaint him with his resolution
to set out immediately, the rains having
ceased, and the clouds broken up and almost
vanished.

“Lord, captain,” said the Kentuckian, “I
hoped you would have been for taking a brush
with us; and it war my idea to send a messenger
after your party, in hopes your men would join
us in the rusty. Whar will they have such another
chance? A thousand Injuns ready cut and
dried for killing! Lord, what a fool I war for
not setting more store by that tale of Nathan
Slaughter's! I never knowed the brute to lie in
such a case; for, as he is always ramping about
the woods, he's as good as a paid scout. Howsomever,

the crittur did'nt speak on his own
knowledge; and that infarnal Stackpole was just
ripe from the North side. But, I say, captain, if
your men will fight, just tote 'em back, stow away
the women behind the logs here, and march your
guns after me; and, if thar's half the number of
red niggurs they speak of, to be found, you shall
see an affa'r of a skrimmage that will be good for
your wholesome,—you will, by the etarnal!”

“If the men are of that mind,” said Roland,
gallantly, “I am not the one to balk them. I will,
at least, see whither their inclinations tend; and
that the matter may the sooner be decided, I will
set out without delay.”

“And we who war to escort you, captain,”
said the Kentuckian, with some embarrassment:
“you're a soldier, captain, and you see the case!”

“I do; I have no desire to weaken your force;
and, I trust, no protection is needed.”

“Not an iota; the road is as safe as the furrow
of a Virginnee corn-field,—at least till you strike
the lower Forks; and thar I've heard of no rampaging
since last summer: I'll indamnify you
against all loss and mischief,—I will, if it war on
my salvation!”

“If you could but spare me a single guide,”
said Forrester.

“Whar's the use, captain? The road is as
broad and cl'ar as a turnpike in the Old Dominion;
it leads you, chock up, right on the Upper
Ford, whar thar's safe passage at any moment:
but, I reckon, the rains will make it look a little
wrathy a while, and so fetch your people to a
stand-still. But it's a pot soon full and soon
empty, and it will be low enough in the morning.”

“The Upper Ford?” said Roland, his dream,

for so he esteemed it, recurring to his mind: “is
there then a Lower Ford?”

“Ay,” replied Bruce; “but thar's no passing it
in the freshes; and besides the place has a bad
name. It war thar old John Ashburn pitched his
Station, in '78; but the savages made murdering
work of him, taking every scalp in the company;
and so it makes one sad-like to pass thar, and the
more partickelarly that its' all natteral fine ground
for an ambush. You'll see the road, when you're
six mile deep in the forest, turning off to the right,
under a shivered beech-tree. You are then four
miles from the river, or tharabouts, and just
that distance, I reckon, from your company. No,
captain,” he repeated, “the road is wide and open,
and a guide war mere lumber on your hands.”

This was a point, however, on which the young
soldier, doubly solicitous on his kinswoman's account,
to avoid mistake, was not so easily satisfied:
seeing which, the Kentuckian yielded to his
importunity,—perhaps somewhat ashamed of suffering
his guests to depart entirely alone,—and
began to cast about him for some suitable person
who could be prevailed upon to exchange the privilege
of fighting Indians for the inglorious duty
of conducting wayfarers through the forest. This
was no easy task, and it was not until he assumed
his military authority, as commander of all the
enrolled militia-men in his district, empowered to
make such disposition of his forces as he thought
fit, that he succeeded in compelling the service of
one of his reluctant followers, under whose guidance
Roland and his little party soon after set
out. Their farewells were briefly said, the urgent
nature of his duties leaving the hospitable Bruce
little opportunity for superfluous speech. He followed
them, however, to the bottom of the hill,

grasped Roland by the hand; and doing the same
thing by Edith, as if his conscience smote him for
dismissing her with so little ceremony and such
insufficient attendance, he swore that if any evil
happened to her on the road, he would rest neither
night nor day until he had repaired it, or lost his
scalp in the effort.

With this characteristic and somewhat ominous
farewell, he took his leave; and the cousins, with
their guide and faithful servant, spurred onwards
at a brisk pace, until the open fields of the settlement
were exchanged for the deep and gloomy
woodlands.