The war-path a narrative of adventures in the wilderness ; with minute details of the captivity of sundry persons ; amusing and perilous incidents during their abode in the wild woods ; fearful battles with the Indians ; ceremony of adoption into an Indian family ; encounters with wild beasts and rattlesnakes, &c. ... |
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| 16. | CHAPTER XVI. |
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 | CHAPTER XVI. The war-path |  |
16. CHAPTER XVI.
HORSE-HUNTING ADVENTURE — KENTON AND PADDY —
GROUND-HOG KILLED—THE GIRLS CAPTURED—THE PURSUIT—PETER
AND HIS ASS—THE BATTLE, AND RECOVERY
OF THE GIRLS.
After the appearance of Brandt, Charles, accompanied
by such of his party as were disposed to go with him, made
several excursions round the fort, always ending at the
river. But no traces of Indians were discovered, and he
concluded his forest brother must have come alone, crossing
and recrossing the river at the fort.
After this the vigilance of the people relaxed again, and
the girls resumed their twilight rambles, forgetting that,
although no savages might be within sixty miles of them at
one noon, numbers could arrive before the next.
“Come, Paddy,” said Simon Kenton, about this time,
“let's go and see after the horses.” It had been their
custom to count them three times every day, and to collect
the stragglers.
“'Faith, and I don't see the use of it,” said the reluctant
Paddy, who, although accustomed to taking care of horses
without fear and trembling.
“The use of it? Don't we find some of them fast in the
vines almost every day? There are no Indians about;
but still they require looking after. I will go alone, if you
prefer working in the field gathering corn.”
But Paddy did not prefer any such labour, knowing that,
if he should be suddenly assailed by the Indians while
working in the field, he would be quite as liable to injury
as when among the horses with a gun in his hand.
So the two sallied forth, and were soon counting the
horses, which crowded around them for their accustomed
salt.
“Hello!” cried Kenton, gazing about wildly, “where's
Dan?” This was the name of his favourite steed.
“Sure enough, where is he?” said Paddy. “And I'd
like ye to tell me who's here to answer a question the
likes o' that? The dumb brutes can't talk in our language,
and Paddy knows jist about as much as yerself,
Mr. Kenton.”
“All the rest are here,” continued Kenton. “It's
strange! Dan is generally the first to lick my hand.”
“And who knows if a painter hasn't caught him? They
say thim carniferous varmints always choose the best. If
there's a tinder woman about, they'll niver gnaw the bones
of a man. And it's dacent in 'em to spare us who are
bound to go out in the wild woods and cane-brakes. And
what is it ye're listening to, Misther Kenton?”
Simon had stepped apart and stooped down in a listening
attitude.
“All right, Paddy!” said he, rising erect again, the
dark cloud gone from his brow. “I hear Dan's bell. But
it's a long ways off, down the river.”
“And is he not a sinsible horse? He's promenading
betwixt the stations, guarding and proticting the forts.
He's a jewel of a baste, and good for his weight in goold.
If we stay here a while he'll come to us, and so we naadn't
budge afther him.”
But this mode of reasoning did not satisfy Kenton. He
insisted that something very unusual had caused the separation
of his best and gentlest animal from the rest. Indeed,
the whole drove were in the habit of following Dan's
reply to Paddy's objections to going with him, he merely
said if any Indians were prowling about the greatest
danger would be in the immediate vicinity of the fort. And,
if Paddy's argument failed to convince Kenton, Kenton's
hint was not thrown away on Paddy, and so they set out
together down the river.
Their progress at first was very slow, as they traversed
a dense cane-brake; and when they emerged from this
they encountered tangled blackberry-bushes, often covered
with grape-vines.
“Och, but I'm torn all to paices, Misther Kenton!”
said Paddy. “Stop, if ye plase, till I cut meself loose.”
“Tear through 'em, Paddy, as I do,” said Kenton;
“your buckskin shirt and leggins can stand it.”
“If the skane of the dead buck can stand it, Misther
Kenton,” said Paddy, “divil the bit can the skin of a live
Paddy! Me hands and face are full of prackles, and the
blood of a thrue son of Erin is flowing in this nasty wildherness.”
“Hush, Paddy!” said Kenton, again placing his ear near
the ground. “I've lost the bell!”
“And what betther could ye expict in sich a place as
this? And if you iver find it agin it'll not be worth the
stooping for.”
“There it is!” cried Kenton, smiling. “I hear it now.
But we must get out of this. It is over yonder in the
woods. Dan must have moved since we started.”
“I'm much obleeged till him. And sure he's a sinsible
horse to lade us out of these purgatorious brambles. But,
upon me sowl, I haven't yit heard the first tankle of his
bell!”
“You have not lived in the forest, Paddy,” said Kenton,
leading the way into the tall sumachs, where their progress
would be less obstructed.
“That is thrue,” said Paddy; “houses were made for
men to live in, the wild woods for wild animals and blackguard
savages. Yit, Misther Kenton, I have as many
ears and as good ones as any person, and now I hear
Dan's bell. I did not listen afore.”
“We are getting nigher to him. But what the d—l
with him?”
“Will ye tell me one thing, Misther Kenton?”
“May-be so.”
“Wasn't it wrong in him to come out?”
“Yes, hang me if it wasn't!”
“Hang me, then, if it wasn't right in the others not to
go wid him! And so Mr. Dan must give up his bell to
Misther Charles's horse.”
“I don't believe he did it without a cause. His bellband
may be fast to a bush. Good-morning to your nightcap!”
This was uttered when a large buck sprang up a few
paces in front of them, and bounded away with his tail erect,
the under or white portion of it, as usual, exposed to view.
“Be jabers, he's stopped to look at us!” said Paddy,
throwing his gun up to his shoulder.
“Don't fire!” said Kenton.
“Don't fire? And what's your raison for that same?”
“I have a reason.”
“And won't ye tell it before the deer's gone?”
“Oh, he's gone long ago. Don't you see him rushing
over the ridge yonder, three hundreds yards off?”
Paddy, on turning his head again, caught a glimpse of
the buck at the place indicated. He seemed much offended,
and followed his companion several minutes in silence, and
until Kenton paused abruptly, his lips slightly parted and
his rifle half in readiness to fire.
“And what're ye frowning about now?” asked Paddy;
“any child can hear the bell widout stooping down till the
falthy ground.”
“Hush!” said Kenton, in a low voice. “Sit down here
with me, and don't speak above a whisper.”
“Not spake above a whasper! For fear, I suppose, the
horse'll hear us and run away?”
“Fool!”
“Did ye mane that for me, Misther Kenton?”
“Be quiet, if you don't want to lose your scalp!”
“Och, I beg yer pardon, misther! And there are Indians
about, sure enough, thin?”
“I think so.”
“And how could any one want to lose his sculp? You
oughtn't to name any sich thing! I'll go back!”
“I wish you were in the fort! Could you find the way
back yourself?”
“Niver! My head's been turned and twisted so I
wouldn't know which way to start. Won't ye go wid me?”
“And lose his scalp? No, indeed! That fellow's hair
shall be dangling from my belt when I go in, or my name's
not Simon Kenton! Poor Dan's gone—that's certain!”
“Won't ye explain all this to me, Misther Kenton? I
can't understhand a jot of it.”
“The yaller rascal's stolen my horse, and thinks he is
sure of my scalp in the bargain. Didn't you hear that?”
“The bell, ye mane? Of coorse?”
“Well, are there any flies at this season?
“No, not that I knows of. But there's abundance of
flaas in the garrison.”
“That bell is not shaken by Dan. It is in the hand of
an Indian!”
“Let's begone, Misther Kenton! Let's give the alarm
to the paple. Run as fast as ye plase, and I'll kape up
wid ye!”
“Hush! Be quiet! I will take that yaller rascal's scalp
in with me, or Sue Calloway and Simon Kenton will never
be man and wife! I place my hand on this log and swear
to it!”
“And all for a single horse, which'll be bit by a rattlesnake
next summer!”
“Paddy, you must do precisely what I tell you, or
creep back to the fort alone!”
“Will ye tell me to do ony thing dangerous?”
“Dangerous? We don't know what that means. There's
no such word in Kentucky. All that I want you to do is
to hide under this log, and not let your own ears hear a
rustle from you, or you may be tomahawked.”
“I'll be still as a mice! And mayn't I cover meself
wid the laves?”
“I don't care. When you hear my gun—”
“Och, Misther Kenton, how am I to tell yer gun from
an Indian's? It may be the report of a blackguard savage's
rifle shooting yerself!”
“Shooting your granny! I thought everybody could
tell the crack of my rifle. I can tell Boone's, blindfolded.
Every man's voice is different, and so is his gun's.”
“And Paddy's schoolmasther didn't tache him the language
o' rifles!”
“No matter. The first gun you hear will be mine, and
the yaller rascal shaking the bell will be sprawling on his
face and the hot blood pouring out of his head. When
you hear my gun, jump up and make a d—l of a noise.
Fire off your gun—load and fire as fast as you can—beat
the bushes, yell, talk Irish, and make 'em believe—that
is, if any more of 'em are about—at least twenty men are
coming. Now hide yourself!”
Paddy, knowing he could never find the way back to the
station without a guide, was under the necessity of obeying.
Then Kenton rose up and uttered a prolonged and not unmusical
halloo, as he was in the habit of doing to attract
the ear of his horse, which had, like most other horses,
learned to know the voice of his master. Immediately
after, the bell was shaken quite loudly, in imitation of the
rattle made by a horse suddenly lifting his head.
Kenton smiled, and was just about to glide away in a
different direction from that whence the sound of the bell
proceeded, when he was called to softly by Paddy.
“Misther Kenton! Misther Kenton!” said he, “for
the sake of the Howly Immaculate Mother, don't be afther
calling 'em here, and laving me to be tomahawked be
meself!”
“Lay still, you — fool, and be silent, or I'll tomahawk
you myself, and be rid of you!”
“Och, murther!” said Paddy, submissively sinking back
under the leaves.
Kenton glided away stealthily, and made a wide circuit,
so as to attain the opposite side of the locality of the bell.
He knew every inch of the ground, and was aware that
the Indian was posted in a dense grove of sugar-maples,
some forty yards from the thicket of sumachs in the midst
of which Paddy was ensconced, and precisely in front of
the deer-path leading through it into the woods; and he
was satisfied the face of the foe would be kept steadily in
that direction. Hence his motive for the loud halloo before
executing his project of circumvention.
No cat ever moved with less noise than Kenton in the
execution of his well-conceived purpose. And so far was
he from experiencing any trepidation, that more than once
to laugh at the anticipated astonishment of the Indian
and the ludicrous picture his fancy painted of a savage
watching in readiness to shoot him as he emerged from the
sumachs, when he should be aiming at the back of the
Indian's head from the opposite direction.
And there was an instinctive prescience in his conception.
For when he approached the designated point, without
the crush of a leaf or the disturbance of a bough, he
beheld the Indian, with the bell in his hand and a companion
at his side, sitting on the fallen trunk of a tree which
Kenton himself had cut down to capture a bear.
The Indians were laughing silently at the anticipated
success of their stratagem, and expressing by mimicry the
amazement they had no doubt their victim would exhibit
when, instead of seeing his horse, he should find himself a
prisoner or hear the whistling of their balls before he could
present his own rifle.
Kenton paused and surveyed them when about forty
paces distant. Their faces were steadily turned toward the
place where the path entered the woods; and they were so
near it they could have heard the approach of the horse-hunter
before he came in view. Their position on that side
was sufficiently obscured by the intervening trees to render
any extraordinary precaution unnecessary.
But they were exposed on the other side; and Kenton
was determined they should hear from him, if they did not
see him, although he was a little embarrassed by the presence
of one more than he had calculated upon. Shifting
his position several times for the purpose of getting their
heads in a line, so as to perforate them both, several minutes
were fruitlessly expended; for, from the shape of the fallen
trunk and the inequality in the height of the Indians, the
project was impracticable.
He poured out a charge of powder in his buckhorn tube
and placed it beside a bullet at the root of the tree behind
which he was standing, so that he might be in readiness to
repeat his fire before the surviving enemy could rush upon
him. Then, taking a deliberate aim at the one with the
bell, whom he recognised as the liberated chief, Ground-Hog,
and the original owner of the horse Dan, he fired.
The bell and Indian fell together. The other Indian sprang
but the right one, prostrated himself beside his weltering
companion, as if to elude the aim of an enemy.
Kenton, meanwhile, lost no time in recharging his rifle;
and the surviving Indian, finding himself not assaulted,
and not knowing where the foe might be concealed, hastened
to make his escape. But, as is almost invariably the case,
he determined to bear off his dead comrade. So, being a
broad-shouldered, stalwart fellow, he rose with his neck
between the dead one's legs, the feet in front and the body
behind, back to back; and with his burden he ran through
the woods, continually turning to shield himself from the
aim of any foe that might be watching by interposing the
dead Indian.
So skilful were his manœuvres that Kenton was finally
under the necessity of firing through the dead body to reach
the living Indian. And this he did effectually, for they
both lay prostrate a moment after the discharge of his
rifle. He ran up and scalped them, dispatching the last
victim, who had been only desperately wounded, with his
tomahawk.
No sooner was this bloody work accomplished than Dan
was discovered a few paces distant, behind the roots of an
immense fallen tree. Thither the savage was bearing his
companion, and would have soon effected his escape.
Kenton threw his arms round the neck of his snorting steed
in a loving embrace, and then, mounting him, dashed into
the sumach-thicket where Paddy lay concealed.
“Paddy! Paddy! Where are you?” cried Kenton, his
horse standing with his neck arched over the log where
Paddy had buried himself.
“And is it yerself who asks?” replied Paddy, in a tremulous
voice, and at the same time springing up from the
leaves,—an apparition which frightened Dan, and Kenton
was near being thrown.
“Yes. Why didn't you answer me at first?”
“And how could I know it was yerself till ye towld me?
Murther! murther! I see the nasty sculps hanging to yer
belt!”
“Two of 'em, Paddy! So Sue Calloway and I may be
man and wife after all, if she'll have me. But why didn't
you fire and shout as I told you?”
“Now come, Misther Kenton, how could I tell they
wasn't running this way, right over a body?”
“Well, suppose they had? Wouldn't you have 'em come
where you could see 'em?”
“Och, murther! they might've kilt me, and Paddy, sure,
would niver have enjoyed the smiles of any darlint wife.”
“But there would have been no danger. Your firing
and shouting would have frightened them away.”
“D'ye say that? And, sure enough, there'd be no
danger? Then here goes for a spicimen of the noise I can
make in a case of needcissity!” And he sprang upon
the log and fired his gun, and yelled, and howled, and
beat and twisted the bushes, to such a furious extent that
Kenton, half dead with laughter, was forced to alight from
his amazed horse to keep from being thrown.
“Are you mad?” cried Kenton.
“Mad, is it? As blazes!” said Paddy, firing off his gun
again. “Am I not fighting the Indians?”
“You are making a fool of yourself; and if there are
any more in hearing they'll soon put a stop to your howling.
That's not the noise a brave man makes, and I'll
leave you!”
“Misther Kenton! Misther Kenton!” cried Paddy, instantly
sobered, “ye are the bravest and the best man in
the world, and I will tell iverybody of yer great dades this
day. And sure, now, ye'll let me ride behint ye?”
Kenton could not resist the flattery; and, after some
difficulty, Dan permitted Paddy to occupy a seat on his
strong back; but there was no more Irish howling.
Kenton, when approaching the station, uttered the horse-halloo,
a sort of whinnying yell used by the scouts to denote
their success in the acquisition of horses. He listened in
vain for a response. All seemed to be silent. Astonished
and somewhat chagrined at this, he sounded the startling
scalp-halloo. This never failed to produce a prodigious excitement
among Indians or borderers. But on that occasion,
and to the amazement of Kenton, only one or two
responsive voices were heard; and when he dashed through
the gate there was no enthusiastic crowd to receive him
with plaudits.
Boone approached and examined the scalps in grave
silence. McSwine sat apart with a dark cloud on his
“Vatch” himself stood like a marble quadruped, his blunt
tail sticking up immovably. The voice of Mr. Jones was
heard in the large cabin where he usually preached. He
was praying fiercely. Maledictions were uttered and
vengeance invoked.
“Oh, Mr. Kenton,” exclaimed Mrs. Calloway, rushing
out into the area, her long hair streaming loosely behind,
“they've got her!”
“Got who? who's got? what's what?” cried Kenton,
quickly, trembling from head to foot, and almost unnerved
by the indefinable apprehensions which oppressed him, intensified
by the singular change in the countenances of all
and the disordered hair and tearful eyes of the woman.
“Sue! the Indians have got Sue!” she screamed; and
then fell prostrate at the feet of the scout, whose breathing
was quick and oppressive.
“Oh, — them!” cried Kenton, in a shrill voice which
rang throughout the building.
“Yes, tam dem!” said Van Wiggens.
“Vatch” barked fiercely.
“Come! come!” cried Charles, rushing into the area
full-armed, and habited as an Indian. “We want ten men
—the best in the station—all volunteers—to go in pursuit.
Boone and I will lead.”
Then Kenton, as if his sinews, which had been apparently
paralyzed, were suddenly enfranchised from the
spell that bound them, sprang up in the air, and, striking
his feet together several times before descending, crowed
vociferously, like a cock.
“I knew you'd be one, Simon,” said Boone.
“One? and Sue gone?—I'll be SIX!” and, letting his
rifle fall gently to the earth, he struck the palm of his left
hand a violent blow with the fist of his right.
“Mary's gone too!” said Boone, in a husky voice.
“O Lord!” said Kenton; “and I was after Dan, and
didn't know it! But we'll foller 'em to the other end of
creation! They've roused a hornets' nest now! I feel as
strong as a buffalo bull! I could bite off the head of a
nail! I could—”
“And Julia!” said Charles—“they've taken her too!”
“That clips my tongue!” said Kenton, striding in front
now. I can't curse a bit. I feel like having the lock-jaw.
My arms ache! I could bust a rock with my fist! I'd
agree to strip and fight ten Indians at once. They might
have their tomahawks; all I'd ask would be my knuckles
and my teeth! Why are we standing here like scared
turkeys that don't know which way to fly? Don't let us
burn daylight, or moonlight either. Where's the volunteers?
I'm six!”
The number designated, after such a speech from Kenton,
were in instant readiness; and the most extraordinary
thing was the persistence of Paddy in his resolution to accompany
them. He said if the girls were not recovered
he didn't care to keep his “sculp.”
The three girls had been seized by a party of Indians
near the spring, on the river-bank, just after Kenton and
Paddy departed in quest of the horses. They had crossed
the river in the night in a canoe, which they concealed in
the bushes near the water, and then hid themselves in the
vicinity. The seizure of the girls was followed so quickly by
the pushing off of the canoe that, by the time their screams
had roused the men in the fields, they had been conveyed
to the opposite shore of the river. Their captors were
only four in number; but on the northern bank they were
joined by ten others. They hastened away toward the
Ohio, but rather in a northwest course than in the line
the fugitives had traversed from the Scioto.
The girls were placed on Indian ponies, while most of
their captors ran on foot. Kenton had diminished the
number of horses in the Indian country.
Julia looked round, expecting to see Brandt; but he was
not present; nor were any Mohawks among them. All
were Senecas.
They had not proceeded far before they were met by
Peter Shaver, on his jackass, whom the Indians abused for
lagging behind. Peter had been a volunteer in the expedition,
breathing vengeance against the whites, but determined,
at the first opportunity, to desert to them; and it
was to prevent such an occurrence, perhaps, that he was
required to retain his ass, which could not be beaten out of
his slow gait nor easily made to abandon the scenes and
society to which it had so long been accustomed; and, besides,
which the Indians enjoyed most heartily, and no doubt
Peter's life had been spared that he might continue to be
the laughing-stock of the savage warriors.
“You know the jack can't keep up,” said Peter, in
deprecation of their reproaches.
“You be dern!” said the leader.
Just then the ass, snuffing the breeze which blew from
the south, and upon which was borne the scent of the blood
of the Indians slain by Kenton, began to bray.
“Dern! stop him!” cried the leader of the party, who
drew his knife and threatened to cut the animal's throat.
“Wait till I get down!” said Peter, not at all reluctant
to be rid of his ass. “Now cut away as soon as you please,”
said he, when dismounted.
This produced some laughter when the Indians comprehended
the reason of Popcorn's willingness to sacrifice his
long-eared steed; and therefore the animal's life was
spared. But they choked him into silence, and, turning
his head back, whipped him along the path in the rear of
the ponies.
Then ensued an animated conversation among the Indians,
in their own dialect, some portions of which Julia
was enabled to understand. They were discussing the
probable result of the pursuit they anticipated,—the number
of pursuers, and how many would be left to defend the
station. From this Julia inferred the object was to weaken
the garrison.
Mary and Sue, though seemingly quiet and subdued,
had not forgotten the lessons learned in the wilderness,
repeated at many a glowing fireside. They broke off small
boughs from the bushes, and strewed fragments of their
handkerchiefs, and threads drawn from their clothing, in
the path they were traversing.
This operation was seen and understood by the leading
chief; and he did not forbid it until they reached the head-waters
of the South Fork of Licking River, near where
Mount Sterling stands. Here every effort was made to
conceal their trail. The girls were threatened with the
torture if they did not cease to scatter threads and twigs
on the ground.
Daylight was fading, and the shimmering stars appeared
hungry, their captors paid no attention to their alleged
wants. On the contrary, they were forced to ride among
the slippery rocks in the midst of the stream, then exceedingly
low, as there had been a prolonged drought. The
Indians, sure of foot and reckless of exposure, followed.
The ass was sometimes urged forward by blows behind, or
dragged along by the ears. In this manner they proceeded
several miles, leaving, as they thought, no trace behind
them. But the Indians were outwitted by the girls, as
many wiser men had been before them. In the dusky
shades of the clustering boughs, the Senecas could not prevent
their captives from detaching some of their long silken
hair and hanging it on the willows.
Their progress was now very slow, and it seemed they
had no intention of flying far. The object was to confuse
their pursuers. The girls were dismounted when the water
became deeper. The ponies and the ass were taken to the
opposite side and driven down the right-hand bank of the
stream, while the captives were conducted along a path on
the other side, which soon diverged from the river and
led into the hills.
It was a well-beaten path, and quite dusty. The girls
were ordered to keep in the centre of it and follow their
leader in single file. Behind, an old Indian brought up
the rear, obliterating the footprints with a bough of cedar,
and leaving no traces but his own moccasin-tracks.
They travelled thus until, from the height of the moon,
the girls supposed it to be near midnight, when they again
struck the river, which had increased in width and volume.
They descended the bluff and halted in a beech-bottom,
near the mouth of a small rivulet that emptied into the
larger stream. And here they were surprised to find the
ponies, the ass, and the Indians who had separated from
them several miles back.
The poor girls, supposing they would be compelled to
mount again and pursue the journey all night, were ready
to despair. They feared it would be impossible for their
friends to follow. But no indignities were offered them,
which, at least, was an assurance that their lives would be
spared. The Indian never insults his female prisoner
unless he means to kill her afterward. And Peter
gestures.
The girls were not required to mount the ponies again
that night. A fire was kindled under a rude shelter hastily
constructed, and some buffalo-tongue, sliced and broiled,
sufficed for their supper.
Not fearing their captives would attempt an escape, the
Indians returned upon their trail for the purpose of more
effectually destroying it. Peter, known to be incapable
of finding his way in any direction in the absence of a
beaten path, was left to keep the fire replenished.
It was during this temporary withdrawal of the savages
that Julia learned from Peter that their seizure was to be
attributed to Queen Esther, and that Brandt had nothing
whatever to do with it. On the contrary, the great
sachem had returned, silent and terrible in his gloom,
from a solitary excursion, and, leading his people toward
the East, announced his intention to strike his tomahawk
into the heads of the white people living nearest to the
Eastern lakes. His aunt, Gentle Moonlight, and sister,
Brown Thrush, were still remaining at Chillicothe when
Peter left the village; and Calvin likewise remained, and
had been promised the hand of the beautiful Indian girl
provided he would head the Delawares, who had just joined
the confederacy of the Six Nations. To this, however, he
objected; and Gentle Moonlight did not sanction the
project. The forest maiden was silent, knowing her aunt
could dispose of her as she pleased. But she sang continually
of the White Eagle, and her thoughts and dreams
were of the woods, and streams, and flowers, beyond the
grave.
When their captors returned, the girls were ordered to
occupy a small space in the crotch of a fallen tree near the
fire. Leaves sufficed for a couch, and a buffalo robe for a
shelter from the dew or frost. They kept themselves warm
by clinging together under their weighty coverlet, and endeavoured
to cheer each other with such prospects of a
speedy rescue as the circumstances afforded. Their whispers
were at last hushed in slumber, for the idea of escape,
unassisted by their friends, never occurred to them. They
dreamed of those they loved best, and that they had been
delivered from the hands of the enemy; but in the morning
in captivity
After a slight repast the journey was resumed; and the
Indians were merry with the conviction that they had
effectually concealed their trail.
Their progress the second day was neither rapid nor in
the most direct course for the Ohio River; and it became
evident that the Indians looked for the arrival of friends
who would be interposed between their captives and the
stations of the white men. Being out of meat, several of
the warriors diverged from the path in quest of deer, and
their rifles were soon heard in various directions. This
convinced Mary Boone that they no longer feared pursuit;
but it did not quite extinguish her hope.
The first deer brought in, as usual, set Peter's ass to
braying. Mary could not avoid laughing, and the Indians
patted her on the head and said, “Brave Captain Boone's
daughter—laugh at Popcorn's jack—good squaw!” And
it was a singular characteristic of the Indian to praise, and
spare, and love Boone, whom they dreaded more than any
other foe.
In the evening they encamped at an early hour, having
recrossed the Licking. The place where they rested was
at the mouth of a creek emptying into the river, known
since by the name of Indian Creek, about a mile from
Cynthiana. It was a narrow bottom, overgrown with beechtrees,
and a position well adapted for defence. And here
the girls found a better shelter than that of the preceding
night. It seemed to have been an ancient camping-ground,
for old forks were found standing.
Leaving Peter with the girls, the Indians dispersed in
various directions, to be satisfied, as usual, that no enemy
lurked in the vicinity.
Peter amused himself firing at the ducks that pitched
into the mouth of the creek, that being a famous place for
them to collect of evenings; and, finding a canoe in the
vicinity, he obtained his victims without difficulty. And
Mary and Sue undertook to dress and roast them. This
was done much to the satisfaction of the Indians, who partook
heartily of the fowls, and praised the girls for their
skill in cooking.
At night the repose of the captives was disturbed by the
in great numbers in the vicinity; and occasionally their
glaring eyeballs, as they stood on the opposite side of the
creek and gazed at the fire, were plainly discernible.
“I guess I can blot out one of their eyes,” said Peter,
raising his gun to his shoulder.
“Totem!—Seneca Totem!” cried the leader of the Indians,
striking up the muzzle of the rifle; and the ball
whistled over the tree-tops.
“I beg pardon,” said Peter; “I forgot the wolves were
your brothers, and that I was connected with the same
respectable family.”
The Indians comprehended his speech in part, but did
not attach any importance to the jest. But they attached a
superstitious signification to the presence of the wolves, or
to their mode of howling on that particular night. They
were even kind enough to throw the fragments of their
feast to them, but this did not silence their cries.
“Mr. Shaver,” said Julia, as she leaned upon Sue's
friendly shoulder, watching the glowing embers, and unable
to sleep, “how did you like the family into which you were
adopted?”
“I guess you mean how I disliked it. There was no
liking in the matter.”
“I suppose Mr. Van Wiggens disliked it quite as much
as any one, since he embraced the earliest opportunity to
get away.”
“I guess he did. He was my adopted mother's husband,
you know. They had a row the first night. She
was drunk, and wanted to make him drunk too. And I
reckon he had no particular objection to being drunk, for I
have seen him in that way; but it was the most abominable,
outrageous liquor you ever tasted.”
“I never tasted any, Peter.”
“I beg pardon. Even Paddy, my new brother, couldn't
swallow it, and he had a will to get drunk and forget his
troubles.”
“So none of you tasted it?”
“I guess we did, though! The scent of the stuff filled
the wigwam. It druv out Paddy and his daddy. I fell
asleep, or I'd'a gone too.”
“What did Diving Duck say in the morning?”
“It'd've kept two or three interpreters busy to translate
her words. She jabbled like a whole flock of parroquets.
She was always a famous scold, and the Indians dislike
scolding wives as much as white men do.”
“Do they?
“Darned if they don't! And some of the squaws have
tarnation bitter tongues! But Didapper, seeing she had
no husband to listen, soon stopped her Niagara Falls of
words, and took up the frying-pan. The frying-pan is
what she used to beat her old man with. She gave me a
rap over the head, and it rings yet! And she told me if I
didn't bring back my father she'd marry me! I guess she
may, if she ever catches me.”
“Hush!” said Mary, in a low voice.
“What do you hear?” asked Julia.
“Lie down, Peter!” whispered Mary; then, turning to
Julia, said her eye had caught a signal from her father.
“I saw nothing,” said Julia.
“There it is again!” said Mary, pointing at an acorn
that fell near the fire and rolled to their feet.
“That is an acorn,” said Julia.
“I know it,” responded the other. “But we are not
under an oak-tree.”
“If it be your father, why cannot I see him?” asked
Julia, rising softly and gazing round. “No,” she continued,
“there are no bushes here to hide any one. I fear
you are mistaken.”
“I am not! The signal is for us to lie down, so as not
to be in the way of their bullets.”
Julia involuntarily clung closer to her companions, and
Peter himself seemed inclined to maintain a more intimate
proximity to the girls than, under other circumstances,
would have been permitted.
“How quietly the Indians sleep!” whispered Julia.
“They always do,” said Mary; “and we must not move
or speak above a whisper, whatever we may hear or see,
until bidden by my father. The Indians will not have time
to kill us, and we must not be afraid.”
Soon after, their deliverers were seen to glide from behind
the trees and stand with their guns pointing at the
Indians. But the heads of the girls, as they peered over
the crotch of the fallen tree, were between the rifles and
them to lie down and be still, which they obeyed
instinctively. The next moment a deadly volley was fired
into the midst of the unconscious savages, and such as
escaped the fatal lead sprang up, yelling horribly, and disappeared
in the forest.
The girls rushed into the arms of their deliverers; and
Sue Calloway was embraced, and lifted up, and kissed, by
Kenton.
“Sue!” said he, “I'd wade through fire forty foot deep
to save you!” Sue said nothing, nor opened her eyes, her
face reclining on her deliverer's shoulder.
And Julia clung to Charles, while Mary wept with joy
on the breast of her father.
“Be me sowl, I'm hungry!” said Paddy; “and here the
savage blackguards have been having a fayst to thimselves!
And what do ye call that same noise?” he continued, arresting
his hand as it was conveying the half of a roasted
duck to his mouth.
It was the familiar sound of Peter Shaver's jackass,
some forty paces distant, braying terrifically.
“Hello! Where's Popcorn?” said Paddy, upon recognising
the voice of the beast.
“Here I am, Paddy Pence!” said Peter, rising up.
“Divil take me if I belave ye!” cried Paddy, aiming
his empty gun at Peter's breast. “You're one of the savage
Indians who saized the young ladies. Surrinder, or
you're a dead man!”
“I rather guess I can soon convince you I am Peter
Shaver, if you'll throw down the shooting-iron and stand
up to a fair fist-fight,” said Peter, deeply affronted.
“None of your nonsense!” said Boone to Paddy; “and
do you go and stop that ass's mouth,” he continued, addressing
Peter, who obeyed reluctantly.
“And what's that same?” cried Paddy, dropping his
duck into the fire. It was the warwhoop of the rallied
Senecas, and a moment after their balls rattled like hail
about the fire; but none of the party were killed, and only
two were slightly wounded. Boone and Charles deposited
the girls in the place of security, and ordered the men to
post themselves behind the trees out of the light of the
fire. This was done immediately, and a desultory conflict
into the wilderness beyond the creek.
When the gray morning appeared, Charles left his tree
and approached the shelter which concealed the girls; and
the first object that attracted his gaze was the form of
Paddy. He was snoring lustily beside the silent though
watchful girls. Charles roused him with a smart blow, and
the Irishman sprang up and stared in amazement.
“I was dhraming, Misther Charles,” said he.
“And what business had you here?”
“Och, I was proticting the ladies! But I was so hungry
and tired, I fell aslape. I beg the swate craters' pardons!”
Boone discovered a slaughtered deer which the Indians
had hung upon a tree beyond the reach of the wolves; and
this sufficed for breakfast.
Without loss of time, the party set out on their return
to the station. Kenton had found the ponies, which the
Indians left behind. But neither Peter Shaver nor his ass
could be seen; and it was supposed he had been recaptured
by the Indians upon going out to silence the braying.
“Be the powers,” said Paddy, “may-be it wasn't Pater
afther all! And I was cheek by jowl with a savage
inemy!”
Although the loss of Peter was naturally regretted, yet
the party had been too successful to mourn a great deal
over his fate, whatever it might be; and the joy of the
enfranchised girls was a sufficient recompense for their
fatigues and perils.
And Sue, although Kenton could not obtain the pledge
he desired, acknowledged her deep indebtedness to her
brave and generous deliverer.
Julia, in the exuberance of her recovered spirits, amused
Charles and the rest with a recital of the information she
had received from Peter regarding the inconsolable Didapper
so cruelly deserted by her lord; and poor Van Wiggens
was heartily congratulated upon his escape from the frying-pan.
“Tam dem! te vimmen!” said he. “And I shall pe in
te fire, ven I gets back mit te oder Mrs. Wan Viggens!”
The hairs hung by Sue on the boughs pendant over the
water, as she was assured by Kenton, had enabled them to
follow the trail of the Indians. But Sue did not thank her
colour never admired by its possessor.
Toward evening, and after a pretty good day's travel,
the party were surprised to perceive signs of a large party
of Indians, which had passed southward within the last
twenty-four hours. This discovery was perhaps a fortunate
one. They might but for it have encamped upon such
ground as would have made their fire visible to the enemy;
but now, instead of this, they resolved to push forward and
cross the river without halting. This they effected before
midnight; and their arrival at the station was the occasion
of general rejoicing and of thanksgiving by the Rev. Mr.
Jones.
| CHAPTER XVI. The war-path | |