[Illustration: "You were never meant for the frontier. "]

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A VIRGINIA SCOUT

ByHUGH PENDEXTER

Author ofKings of the Missouri, Etc. 

Frontispiece byD. C. Hutchison

INDIANAPOLISTHE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANYPUBLISHERS

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Copyright 1920The Ridgway Company

Copyright 1922The Bobbs-Merrill Company

Printed in the United States of America

PRESS OFBRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOK MANUFACTURERSBROOKLYN, N. Y. 

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ToFaunce Pendexter

My Son and Best of Seven-Year-Old ScoutsThis Story Is Lovingly Dedicated

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. Three Travelers 1 II Indian-Haters 23 III Over the Mountains 55 IV I Report to My Superiors 81 V Love Comes a Cropper 106 VI The Pack-Horse-Man's Medicine 133 VII Lost Sister 167 VIII In Abb's Valley 193 IX Dale Escapes 229 X Our Medicine Grows Stronger 265 XI Back to the Blue Wall 289 XII The Shadows Vanish 311 XIII Peace Comes to the Clearing 352

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A Virginia Scout

CHAPTER I

THREE TRAVELERS

It was good to rest in the seclusion of my hollow sycamore. It waspleasant to know that in the early morning my horse would soon cover thefour miles separating me from the soil of Virginia. As a surveyor, and nowas a messenger between Fort Pitt and His Lordship, the Earl of Dunmore, our royal governor, I had utilized this unique shelter more than once whenbreaking my journey at the junction of the Monongahela and the Cheat. 

I had come to look upon it with something of affection. It was one of mywilderness homes. It was roughly circular and a good eight feet indiameter, and never yet had I been disturbed while occupying it. 

During the night I heard the diabolic screech of a loon somewhere down theriver, while closer by rose the pathetic song of the whippoorwill. Strangecontrasts and each very welcome in my ears. I was awake with the firstrays of the sun mottling the bark and mold before the low entrance to myretreat. The rippling melody of a mocking-bird deluged the thicket. Honey-bees hovered and buzzed about my tree, perhaps investigating it withthe idea of moving in and using it for a storehouse. The Indians calledthem the "white man's flies, " and believed they heralded the coming ofpermanent settlements. I hoped the augury was a true one, but there weretimes when I doubted. 

Making sure that the priming of my long Deckhard rifle was dry, I crawledout into the thicket and stood erect. As far as the eye could roamstretched the rich bottom-lands and the low ridges, covered with theprimeval growths of giant walnuts, maples, oaks and hickory. Small wonderthat the heart of the homeseeker should covet such a country. 

Groves of beeches, less desired by settlers, were noisy with satisfiedsquirrels. From river to ridge the air was alive with orioles andcardinals and red-starts. And could I have stood at the western rim of myvision I would have beheld the panorama repeated, only even richer andmore delectable; for there was nothing but the ancient forest between meand the lonely Mississippi. 

Birds and song and the soft June air and the mystery of the Kentuckycountry tugging at my heartstrings. I felt the call very strong as I stoodthere in the thicket, and gladly would I have traveled West to the richestgame-region ever visited by white men. From some who had made the trip Ihad heard wonderful stories of Nature's prodigality. There were roads madethrough tangled thickets by immense herds of buffaloes smashing their wayfive abreast. Deer were too innumerable to estimate. To perch a turkeymerely required that one step a rod or two from the cabin door. Only theserious nature of my business, resulting from the very serious nature ofthe times, held me back. 

On this particular morning when the summer was in full tide of song andscents and pleasing vistas, I was bringing important despatches toGovernor Dunmore. The long-looked-for Indian war was upon us. From theback-country to the seaboard Virginians knew this year of 1774 was tofigure prominently in our destiny. 

In the preceding spring we realized it was only a question of time when wemust "fort" ourselves, or abandon the back-country, thereby losing cropsand cabins. When young James Boone and Henry Russell were killed byIndians in Powell's Valley in the fall of 1773, all hope of a friendlypenetration of the western country died. Ever since Colonel Bouquet'streaty with the Ohio tribes on the collapse of Pontiac's War the frontierhad suffered from many small raids, but there had been no organizedwarfare. 

During those ten years much blood had been spilled and many cabins burned, but the red opposition had not been sufficient to stop the backwoodsmenfrom crowding into the Alleghanies. And only a general war could preventthem from overflowing down into the bottoms of the Ohio. The killing offriendly Shawnees at Pipe Creek below the mouth of the Little Kanawha inApril, followed three days later by the cruel slaughter of John Logan'srelatives and friends at Baker's groggery opposite Yellow Creek, hadtouched off the powder. 

But the notion that the massacre of Logan's people at Joshua Baker's housewas the cause of the war is erroneous. For any one living in the countryat the time to have believed it would be too ridiculous. That brutalaffair was only one more brand added to a fire which had smoldered for tenyears. 

It happened to be the last piece of violence before both red and whitethrew aside make-believe and settled down to the ghastly struggle forsupremacy. Hunters bound for Kentucky had suffered none from the Indiansexcept as they had a brush with small raiding-parties. But when DanielBoone undertook to convey his wife and children and the families of hisfriends into the wonderland the natives would have none of it. In killinghis son and young Russell, along with several of their companions, theIndians were merely serving notice of no thoroughfare for home-builders. 

So let us remember that Dunmore's War was the inevitable outcome of twoalien races determined on the same prize, with each primed for adeath-struggle by the memories of fearful wrongs. It is useless to arguewhich race gave the first cause for retaliation; it had been give and takebetween them for many years. Nor should our children's children, becauseof any tendency toward ancestor-worship, be allowed to believe that thewhites were invincible and slaughtered more natives than they lost oftheir own people. 

There were white men as merciless and murderous as any Indians, and someof these had a rare score of killings to their discredit. Yet in aman-for-man account the Indians had all the best of it. Veterans ofBraddock's War insisted that the frontier lost fifty whites for each redman killed. Bouquet and other leaders estimated the ratio in Pontiac's Warto have been ten to one in favor of the Indians. 

This reduction proved that the settlers had learned something from thelessons taught in the old French War. Our people on the border knew allthis and they were confident that in the struggle now upon them they wouldbring the count down to one for one. [1] So let the youngsters of the newday learn the truth; that is, that the backwoodsmen clung to their homesalthough suffering most hideously. 

Virginia understood she must sustain the full brunt of the war, inasmuchas she comprised the disputed frontier. It was upon Virginia that the redhatred centered. I never blamed the Indians for this hate for white cabinsand cleared forests and permanent settlements. Nor should our dislike ofthe Indians incite sentimental people, ignorant of the red man's ways andlacking sympathy with our ambitions, to denounce us as being solelyresponsible for the brutal aspects such a struggle will always display. 

It should also be remembered that the men of Pennsylvania were chieflyconcerned with trade. Their profits depended upon the natives remainingundisturbed in their ancient homes. Like the French they would keep thered man and his forests unchanged. 

Naturally they disapproved of any migrations over the mountains; and theywere very disagreeable in expressing their dissatisfaction. We retorted, overwarmly doubtless, by accusing our northern sister of trading guns andpowder to the Indians for horses stolen from Virginia. There was bad bloodbetween the two colonies; for history to gloss over the fact is toperpetrate a lie. Fort Pitt, recently renamed Fort Dunmore by thecommandant, Doctor John Connolly, controlled the approach to the Ohiocountry. It was a strong conditional cause of the war, peculiar as thestatement may sound to those born long after the troublesome times of1774. 

Pennsylvania accused our royal governor of being a land-grabber and thecatspaw or partner of land-speculators. His Lordship was interested inland-speculation and so were many prominent Virginians. It is also truethat claims under Virginia patents would be worthless if Pennsylvaniacontrolled the junction of the Monongahela and the Alleghany Rivers andsustained her claims to the surrounding country. 

It is another fact that it was the rifles of Virginia which protected thatoutlying region, and that many of the settlers in the disputed territorypreferred Virginia control. Every one realized that should our militiapush the Indians back and win a decisive victory our claims would beimmensely strengthened. And through Doctor Connolly we were alreadyhandling affairs at Fort Pitt. 

Because of these and other facts there was an excellent chance for anintercolonial war. I am of the strong opinion that an armed clash betweenthe hotheads of the two provinces would have resulted if not for theintervention of the Indian war. 

At the beginning of hostilities the Indians proclaimed they would whipPennsylvania and would roast Virginians. However, when Benjamin Speare, his wife and six children were massacred on Dunkard Creek early in June, with similar bloody murders being perpetrated at Muddy Creek, all onPennsylvania soil, by John Logan, the Mingo chief, there was less foolishtalk north of the line. 

All these thoughts of raids and reprisals, of white striving to outdo redin cruelty, may seem to harmonize but ill with that soft June morning, theflight of the red-start, the song of the oriole and the impish chatter ofthe squirrels. Beech and oak urged one to rest in the shade; the limpidwaters of the river called for one to strip and bathe. 

To heed either invitation incautiously invited the war-ax to be buried inthe head. However, we of the border always had had the Indian trouble, andeach generation had taken its pleasure with a wary eye and ready weapons. Although the times were very dangerous and I was serving as scout forthirty-three cents a day I could still enjoy the sweet aromas andsympathize with the song of birds and yet keep an eye and ear open forthat which concerned my life. 

In ascending the Monongahela I had seen many settlers crossing the riverto make the eastern settlements. I was told that a thousand men, women andchildren had crossed during the space of twenty-four hours. Down on theClinch and Holston the settlers were either "forting" or fleeing. 

Much of this retirement was compelled by the sad lack of powder and lead, even of guns. More than one settler depended entirely upon ax or scythefor protection. Such were prevented from using the advantage of theirstout walls and could do the foe no mischief until after the door had beenbattered down, when of course all the advantage shifted to the side of theinvader. 

By this I do not mean to disparage such tools as implements of war. Asturdy fellow with both hands gripping a scythe can do an amazing amountof damage at close quarters, as more than one Shawnee war-party haslearned. 

Briefly summed up, there were dissensions between some of the coloniesover the land-disputes; sparks were flying between the colonies and themother-country; every day brought gruesome news from the back-country;there was a scarcity of guns and ammunition; militia captains were eagerlystealing one another's men to fill their quotas. 

Yet regardless of all these troubles let it be understood that for oncethe borders welcomed war and insisted upon it. As early as March, a monthbefore the Pipe and Yellow Creek outrages, the Williamsburg _Gazette_printed an address to Lord Dunmore, stating that "an immediate declarationof war was necessary, nay inevitable. " Not only did the whites want thewar, but the natives also were eager for it. 

But enough of whys and wherefores, as they make poor story-telling, andleave me, Basdel Morris, overlong in quitting the thicket about my tree. And yet the wise man always looks backward as well as forward whenentering on a trail, and children yet unborn may blaze a better trace ifthey understand what lies behind them. 

I ate my breakfast there in the thick growth, packing my hungry mouth withparched corn and topping off with a promise of turkey, once I drew beyondthe danger-belt. Trying to make myself believe my appetite was satisfied, I began the delicate task of leaving cover without leaving any signs. Myhorse was a fourth of a mile from my tree, so that in finding him theIndians would not find me. 

The river sang a drowsy song a short distance from my tree and down agentle slope. I knew of a spring beneath its bank, and I was impatient totaste its cold waters. I moved toward it slowly, determined that if anIndian ever secured my long black hair it would not be because he caughtme off my guard. With ears and eyes I scouted the river-bank. 

The flights and songs of birds and the boisterous chatter of the squirrelsnow became so many helps. There were no intruders in the grove of beech. There was no one between me and the river. At last I passed under someoverhanging boughs and slipped down the bank to the water's edge. 

Once more I searched both banks of the river, the Cheat, and then venturedto drink. Like an animal I drank a swallow, then threw up my head andglanced about. It took me some time to drink my fill, but I was nottomahawked while at the spring. At last I was convinced I had the bank tomyself; and satisfied that the screen of overhanging boughs screened mefrom any canoe turning a bend up- or down-stream I removed my clothes andvery softly slipped into the water. 

There could be no hilarious splashing nor swimming, but the silentimmersion was most refreshing. It was while supine on my back with only mynose and toes above water that I received my first alarm for that morning. My position being recumbent I was staring up at the sky and in thedirection of up-stream, and I saw a speck. 

It was circling and from the west a smaller speck was hastening eastward. A third tiny speck showed on the southern skyline. Turkey-buzzards. Theone circling had sighted dead beast or man. The others had seen thediscoverer's maneuvers advertising his good luck; and now each scavengerin hastening to the feast drew other scavengers after him. 

I crawled ashore and hurriedly began slipping into my few garments. I drewon my breeches and paused for a moment to part the shrubbery and stareinto the sky. I was startled to observe the buzzards--there were three ofthem now--were much nearer, as if following something. I pulled on myleggings and finished fitting my moccasins carefully about the ankles tokeep out all dust and dirt and took my second look. 

The buzzards were five, and in making their wide circles they had againcut down the distance. Then it dawned upon me that they were followingsomething in the river. I watched the bend, the buzzards ever circlingnearer, their numbers continually being augmented by fresh arrivals. Atlast it came in sight--a canoe containing one man. 

Hastily drying my hands on my hunting-shirt, I picked up my rifle and drewa bead on the distant figure. The man was an Indian and was allowing thecanoe to drift. But why should the turkey-buzzards follow him? As Ipondered over this problem and waited to learn whether he be friendly orhostile, there came the _spang_ of a rifle from my side of the river andabove me. 

A second shot quickly followed and I thought the figure in the canoelurched to one side a bit. Still there was no attempt made to use thepaddle. The shrill ear-splitting scream of a panther rang out, and thislike the two shots was on my side of the river. That the Indian made nomove to escape was inexplicable unless the first shot had killed himoutright. 

The canoe was deflected toward my hiding-place, and I expected to hearanother brace of shots from above me. But there was no more shooting, andthe canoe swung in close enough for me to observe the Indian was holdingsomething between his teeth. I now recognized him as a friendly native, aDelaware; and anxious to protect him from those lurking on the bank Ishowed myself and softly called:

"Bald Eagle is in danger! Paddle in here. "

He paid no attention to my greeting, although the canoe continued itsapproach until it grounded against the bank. I slipped down to the waterto urge him to come ashore and take cover. He was a well-known chief, andfor years very friendly to the whites. The thing he held in his mouth wasa piece of journey-cake, only he was not eating it as I had firstsupposed. As I gained the canoe I noticed a paddle placed across it so asto support his back, and another so braced as to prop up his head. 

The man was dead. There was a hideous wound at the back of his head. Hehad been struck down with an ax. While I was weighing this gruesomediscovery the scream of the panther rang out again and close by, and thebushes parted and I wheeled in time to strike up a double-barrel rifle ayoung man was aiming at the chief. 

"You've fired at him twice already, Shelby Cousin, " I angrily rebuked. "Isn't that about enough?"

"Nothin' ain't 'nough till I git his sculp, " was the grim reply; andCousin, scarcely more than a boy, endeavored to knock my rifle aside. "Atleast you ought to kill before you scalp, " I said. 

His lips parted and his eyes screwed up into a perplexed frown and hedropped the butt of his rifle to the ground. Holding the barrels with bothhands, he stared down at the dead man. 

"Some one bu'sted him with a' ax most vastly, " he muttered. "An' mewastin' two shoots o' powder on the skunk!"

"Without bothering to notice the turkey-buzzards that have been followinghim down the river, " I said. 

He looked sheepish and defended himself:

"The cover was too thick to see anything overhead. "

"He was a friend to the whites. He has been murdered. His killer struckhim down from behind. As if murder wasn't bad enough, his killer tried tomake a joke of it by stuffing journey-cake in his mouth. The cake alonewould tell every red who sees him that a white man killed him. "

"Only trouble with the joke is that there ain't a couple o' him, " hissedyoung Cousin. "But the fellor who played this joke owes me two shoots ofpowder. I 'low he'll pay me. "

"You know who he is?"

"Seen Lige Runner up along. I 'low it will be him. Him an' me look onInjuns just the same way. "

"It's fellows like him and Joshua Baker and Daniel Greathouse who bringtrouble to the settlements, " I said. 

His face was as hard as a mask of stone as he looked at me. His eyes, which should have glowed with the amiable fires of youth, were asimplacably baleful as those of a mad wolf. 

"You don't go for to figger me in with Baker an' Greathouse?" he fiercelydemanded. 

"I know your story. It wouldn't be just to rank you with them. "

"Mebbe it's my story what turns other men ag'in' these critters, " hecoldly suggested. "There was a time when I had a daddy. He talked like youdo. He called some o' the red devils his friends. He believed in 'em, too. Cornstalk, the Shawnee devil, was his good friend. 

"Daddy an' mammy 'lowed we could live on Keeney's Knob till all git-outbu'sted up an' never have no trouble with friendly Injuns. That was tenyears ago. I was eight years old. Then Cornstalk made his last visit. Daddy had just brought in some deer meat. Made a feast for th' bloodydevils. 

"I happened to be out in the woods when it was done. Or, happen like, I'd'a' gone along t'others. There's two things that'll make me hunt Cornstalkan' his Shawnees to the back-country o' hell--my little sister, an' theiroverlookin' to wipe me out. "

He turned and stood by the canoe, glaring down at the dead man. AllVirginia was familiar with the terrible story of the Cousin massacre atKeeney's Knob. Fully as tragic and horrible to me, perhaps, was theterrible change in the only survivor. He became an Injun-killer as soon ashe was able to handle a rifle; and a Virginia boy of twelve was ashamedwhen he failed to bring down his squirrel shot through the head. 

At eighteen Cousin was hated and feared by the Ohio tribes. He was notcontent to wait for Shawnee and Mingo to cross the river, but madefrequent and extremely hazardous trips into their country. Hispanther-scream had rung out more than once near the Scioto villages toproclaim a kill. 

Isaac Crabtree was a killer, but his hate did not make him rash. JesseHughes would have been one of our best border scouts if not for his insanehatred of Indians. He killed them whenever he met them; nor did he, likeCrabtree, wait until the advantage was all on his side before striking. William White, William Hacker and John Cutright massacred five inoffensiveIndian families at Bulltown on the Little Kanawha as a reprisal for theStroud family, slain on Elk River. 

Elijah Runner, who Cousin believed had killed Bald Eagle, was yet anotherwith an insatiable thirst for red blood. Many others were notoriousInjun-killers. Some were border ruffians; some were driven to the limitsof hate because of scenes they had witnessed or losses they had suffered. But none was like Shelby Cousin. 

Other killers would drink and make merry at times, keeping their hate inthe background until a victim appeared. Young Cousin carried his hate inhis face as well as in his heart at all times. There was nothing on earth, so far as I ever learned, no friendships, no maiden's smile, which coulddivert him from the one consuming passion of his life. 

His mention of his sister revealed the deepest depth of his anguish. Hisparents were beyond all suffering and the need of pity. His sister, a yearolder than he, had been carried off. The pursuers found her clothing by acreek near the ruined cabin; but it had never been proved that she wasdead. It was this, the uncertainty of her fate, which daily fed the boy'shate and drove him to the forest, where he sought to learn the truth andnever relinquished an opportunity to take his revenge. 

"If Lige Runner done for him he sure did a good job, " Cousin muttered. "Hesure did make tomahawk improvements on him. "[2]

"You never kill in or near the settlements as some of them do, " I said. 

His eyes closed and what should have been a rarely handsome boyish face, aface to stir the heart of any maiden to beating faster, was distorted withthe pain he was keeping clamped down behind his clenched teeth. 

"That's only because o' what I seen at Keeney's Knob, " he hoarselywhispered. "When I meet one of 'em in a settlement I skedaddle afore Ilose my grip. I mustn't do anything that'll fetch a parcel of 'em down tocarry off some other feller's little sister. If I know'd she wasdead----"

"If you'd stop killing long enough to question some of the Shawnees youmight learn the truth. "

He shook his head slowly, and said:

"I stopped--just afore the killin' at Baker's Bottom. Kept my Injun aliveall night. But he wouldn't tell. "

I shuddered at the cold-bloodedness of him. 

"You tortured him and perhaps he knew nothing to tell, " I said. 

"If he didn't know nothin' it was hard luck for him, " he quietly agreed. "But I was sartain from things he had boasted that he was at the Knob thatday. What you goin' to do with this varmint?"

And he nodded toward the dead voyager. 

"My business won't allow me to take the time necessary to dig a gravewhere his friends can't find him or wild animals dig him out. We'll sethim afloat again and hope he'll journey far down the river before hisfriends find him. He was friendly to us----"

"Friendly----" interrupted the boy. "So was Cornstalk friendly!"

I removed the journey-cake from the grinning mouth and placed the rigidfigure in the bottom of the canoe. Before I could push the craft into thecurrent young Cousin grunted with satisfaction and pointed to twobullet-holes, close together, just back of the ear. 

"Knew I must hit pretty close to where I was shootin', " he muttered as hemade up the bank. 

I shoved the canoe from shore and called after him: "If you will waituntil I get my horse we might travel together. "

He waved his hand in farewell and informed me: "I've got some businesswest o' here. It's out o' your path if you're makin' for the Greenbriar. "

"But a bit of gossip. I'm just back from Fort Pitt, " I said. 

He halted and leaned on his rifle and stared at me with lack-luster eyes, and in a monotonous voice said:

"Ed Sharpe, Dick Stanton, Eph Drake an' Bill Harrel are scoutin' the heado' Powell's Valley. Wanted me to go but the signs wa'n't promisin' 'nough. Logan says he'll take ten sculps for one. He still thinks Michael Cresapled the killin' at Baker's--an' Cresap was at Red Stone when it happened. Cresap wants to be mighty keerful he don't fall into Logan's hands alive. 

"Half the folks on the South Fork o' the Clinch can't raise five shoots o'powder. Folks on Rye Cove been movin' over to the Holston, leavin' theircattle behind. Mebbe I'll scout over that way by 'n' by. 

"Augusta boys ain't goin' to have any man in their militia company thatstands under six feet in his moccasins. Folks between the heads o'Bluestone an' Clinch so skeered they prob'ly won't stay to lay by theircorn. Injuns signs up Sandy Creek has made some o' Moccasin an' CopperCreek folks come off. I 'low that's 'bout all. "

"Any signs of the Cherokees coming in?"

"Some says they will. T'others says they won't. Sort o' depends on whetherthey can keep Ike Crabtree from killin' of 'em off. "

He threw his rifle over his shoulder and with a curt nod turned into thebushes and followed the bank to find a crossing. He was away on hisfearful business; his youth was hopelessly corroded. 

I scouted the spot where I had left my horse and discovered no signs ofIndians. Unspanceling and mounting, I picked up my journey. I was passingthrough a mountainous country which contained many large meadows. Thesepleasant openings would accommodate many cattle if not for the Indiandanger. They were thick with grass and enough hay could be cured on themto feed large herds throughout the winter. 

The bottom-lands, although smaller, were very rich. Along the hillsides Ihad no doubt but that grain could easily be grown. Altogether it was amost pleasing country if lasting peace ever could come to the border. While I observed the natural advantages and fancied the glades and bottomsdotted with happy cabins, I did not forget the dead Delaware floating downthe river, nor ignore the probability of some of his kin discovering themurder before sundown and taking the path for reprisals. 

There was no suggestion of war in the warm sunshine and busy woods-life. Birds rejoiced in their matings, and the air was most gracious with theperfume of growing things. The stirring optimism of spring lingered withme. My heart was warm to rejoin old friends, to enjoy women's company; butnever a moment did I neglect to scrutinize the trace ahead. 

The day passed with no hint of danger. I had the world to myself when thesun was cradled by the western ridges. I found it a wonderful world, and Ibelieved it was never intended that any race of savages, whites or red, should hold such fair lands for hunting-preserves only. 

That night, according to my custom, I spanceled my horse at a considerabledistance from my camp. I had selected a spot on top of a ridge, where themaples and walnuts grew thick. I perched a turkey in the gloaming androasted him over a small fire. Having eaten, I walked to the edge of thegrowth and gazed toward the west. Across the valley a light suddenlytwinkled on the side of a ridge. I first thought that hunters were campingthere; and as the light increased to a bright blaze I decided there was alarge company of them and that they had no fear of Indians. 

But as I watched the flames grew higher. What had been a white lightbecame a ruddy light. The fire spread on both sides. My heart began topound and I tilted my head to listen. The distance was too far for me tohear tell-tale sounds, still I fancied I could hear the yelling of demonsdancing around a burning cabin. 

A dead man floating down the river; a boy seeking vengeance somewhere nearthe blazing home, and a scout for Virginia traveling toward theGreenbriar. 

-----

 [1] It is estimated that the whites lost three to the Indians' one in Dunmore's War. 

 [2] Tomahawk improvements. Settlers often took possession by blazing trees with axes and carving their names thereon. Such entry to land was not legal, but usually was recognized and later made valid by legal process. Such was the claim made to the site of modern Wheeling, West Virginia, by Ebenezer Silas and Jonathan Zane in 1770. 

CHAPTER II

INDIAN-HATERS

I journeyed up the Cheat and left its head waters and proceeded down theGreenbriar without observing any signs of the red peril which was creepingupon the country. A great gray eagle, poised at the apex of my upturnedgaze, appeared to be absolutely stationary; a little brown flycatcher, darting across my path, made much commotion. Red-crested woodpeckershammered industriously in dead wood for rations. So long as their tappingsresounded ahead of me I feared no ambush. 

Wherever nut-trees stood the squirrels made more noise than did the Houseof Burgesses when dissolved by Governor Dunmore for expressingrevolutionary sentiments. A most gracious country, and because of itsfairness, most fearfully beset. That which is worthless needs nosentinels. I met with no humans, white or red; but when within a few milesof Patrick Davis' home on Howard Creek I came upon a spot where threeIndians had eaten their breakfast that very morning. 

I knew they must be friendly to the whites as they had not attempted tohide their temporary camp. They had departed in the direction of thecreek, which also was my destination. I planned resting there over nightand then crossing the main ridge of the Alleghanies during the next day, stopping the night with the Greenwood family on Dunlap's Creek. 

Thence it would be an easy ride to Salem where I would find Colonel AndrewLewis, commander of the county militia. I hoped he would provide amessenger for forwarding my despatches to Governor Dunmore inWilliamsburg. I had no desire to visit the seat of government, nor was mydisinclination due to the bustle and confusion of its more than a thousandinhabitants. 

A mile from where the Indians had camped I came upon two white men. Theywere at one side of the trace and curiously busy among some rocks at thetop of a fifty-foot cliff. They were hauling a rope from a deep crack orcrevice in the rocks and were making hard work of it. 

We discovered each other at the same moment, and they called on me to lendthem a hand. Leaving my horse in the trace, I hastened over the roughground to learn what they wanted. As I drew nearer I recognized them asJacob Scott and William Hacker, confirmed "Injun-haters. "

"How d'ye do, Morris, " greeted Hacker. "Catch hold here and help haul himup. "

"Who is it?" I asked, seizing the rope which was composed of leather beltsand spancel-ropes. 

"Lige Runner, " grunted Hacker, digging in his heels and pulling in therope hand over hand. Runner, as I have said, was another implacable foe ofall red men. 

"All together!" panted Scott. 

My contribution of muscle soon brought Runner's head into view. We heldthe rope taut while he dragged himself on to the ledge. 

"Did you git it?" eagerly demanded Hacker. 

The triumphant grin was surety for his success down the crevice. He roseand tapped a fresh scalp dangling at his belt. 

"I got it, " he grimly replied. "Had to follow him most to the bottom wherehis carcass was wedged between the rocks. Morning, Morris. Traveling far?Seen any Injun-signs on the way?"

I shook my head, preferring they should not learn about the three Indiansmaking for Howard's Creek. 

"What does all this mean, Runner? Do scalps grow at the bottom of holes?"

"This one seemed to, " he answered with a deep chuckle. "Didn't git a faircrack at him, as he was running mighty cute. Rifle held fire the nick of asecond too long. I knew he was mortal hit, but he managed to reach thishole. Then the skunk jumped in a-purpose to make us all this bother to githis scalp. "

"Who was he?"

"Don't know. He was a good hundred and fifty yards away and going like astreak when I plugged him. It's too dark down in the hole to seeanything. "

"For all you know he was a friendly. "

"We never see no friendlies, " Hacker grimly reminded. 

"'Cept when they're dead, " ironically added Scott. "Our eyesight'sterribly poor when they're alive. "

"I call it dirty business. I wouldn't have hauled on the rope if I hadknown. "

Runner lowered at me and growled:

"You're too finicky. A' Injun is a' Injun. Sooner they're all dead, thebetter. I kill 'em quicker'n I would a rattlesnake. A rattler gives noticewhen he's going to strike. "

"If you've killed a friendly this work will cause much suffering among theoutlying cabins. "

"Bah! If we took good corn cakes and honey to the red devils they'd killus every chance they got. We ain't forgitting what happened at Keeney'sKnob, at the Clendennin farm on the Greenbriar; nor the scores of killingsup in Tygart's Valley, and in other places. Give 'em the pewter everychance you can! That's my religion. "

"That's the talk, Lige!" cried Scott. "Ike Crabtree would 'a' liked tobeen in this fun. "

"He'll feel cut up when he hears about our luck, " said Hacker. 

"Crabtree's feelings do him credit, " added Runner. "But his naturalhankering to raise hair is stronger'n his courage when he thinks there'smore'n one Injun to dicker with. Young Shelby Cousin would be the best onefor this business if it wa'n't for his fool notions about killing near asettlement. "

"Cousin says you killed old Bald Eagle. I saw the Delaware floating downthe Cheat in his canoe. "

Runner laughed in huge delight, and cried:

"The world's mighty small after all. Ain't it the truth! So you seen him?Did he have the chunk of johnny-cake in his meat-trap?"

"He was friendly to the whites and harmless. It was a poor piece ofwork. "

"The reason why we didn't sculp him was that it would 'a' spoiled thejoke, " defended Hacker. "With his hair on and the johnny-cake in hismouth, folks would think he was still alive till they got real close. "

"The three of us done that, " informed Scott, as though jealous of Runner'sreceiving all the credit. 

"Morris means it was a poor job because the chief was said to be friendlyto white folks, " explained Runner, scowling at me. 

"Morris, you'd better go up to David's and tell Ike Crabtree that, " jeeredHacker. 

"Crabtree is there, is he?" I said, deeply concerned for the safety of thethree Indians. 

"He started for there. He'll feel mighty well cut up when he hears aboutus and this Injun in the hole, " gravely declared Scott. 

"How many cabins on Howard's Creek now?" I asked; for a cabin could be putup in a few hours and the population at any point might greatly increasein the space of twenty-four hours. I had no desire to quarrel with thethree men, and I realized that there was nothing I could say which wouldchange their natures, or make them act in a human manner toward friendlyIndians. 

Runner was inclined to harbor resentment and refused to answer me. Hacker, however, readily informed me:

"There was five when I come through there last. With outlying settlerspouring in, there may be a dozen by this time. All I know is that thecall's gone out for fifteen or twenty miles, asking every one to come into the big log-rolling. 

"Davis and t'others swear they won't come off the creek till they'veharvested their corn. So they're going to have a rolling and build a fortand stick it out. We fellers reckon we'll go up there and have a hand inthe fun-making. "

"Up near the Pennsylvania line and west of the Cheat a cabin was burned afew nights ago, " I said, hoping they might feel disposed to scout north insearch of Indians who were not friendly. 

If the trio should go to Howard's Creek and happen upon the three IndiansI feared that nothing could prevent another ghastly affair. PossiblyCrabtree already had struck, but I hoped not. The men were interested inmy news and listened closely. I continued:

"It was a cabin. I know that, although I was too far away to investigate. I have a notion that young Cousin was somewhere near it when it burned. "

"Then you can bet the young cuss gave his panther-screech and made hiskill, " exclaimed Scott. 

"If you men want to do the settlers on Howard's Creek a good turn youmight scout up there and look for signs. "

"I 'low the signs wouldn't be very fresh now, " said Runner. "Show me afresh footing and I'm keen to follow it. But just looking round after theskunks move on ain't my notion of a good time. "

"I 'low Lige is right, " decided Hacker. "If the reds was there a fewnights ago they may be down this way by this time. Either that or they'vesneaked back across the Ohio. I 'low there'll be more up to the creek. "

"That's my notion, " chimed in Scott. "Show us fresh signs and we're likegood dogs on the scent. We'd better go to the rollin'. "

"There's many Indians who need killing badly, " I said. "But if you menpersist in killing friendly Indians we'll have the Delawares joining inwith the Shawnees and Mingos. "

"We don't hanker for any more Moravian missionary talk, " coldly warnedRunner. "As for the Delawares dipping into the dish, let 'em come. Let 'emall come together! The sooner we smoke their bacon, the sooner the Holstonand Clinch and Tygart's Valley will be safe for our women and children. Asfor that old cuss of a Bald Eagle, we're right glad you seen him. It showsothers will see him. That's the sort of a notice we're serving on everyredskin in Virginia. "

It was obvious they would not relinquish their plan of visiting Howard'sCreek, and it was equally plain they preferred to travel without mycompany. So I returned to the trace and mounted and rode on. 

As I neared the creek I came upon several settlers hurrying in from theirisolated cabins, and I was pleased to see they had taken time to collecttheir few cattle and bring them along. Of the five men I talked with therewere only two who had guns. The others were armed with axes and big clubsof oak. 

One lean fellow carried a long sapling to the end of which he had madefast a long butcher-knife. One of the gunmen said to me that he hopedthere would be "a lively chunk of a fight" although he and his friend hadonly one charge of powder apiece. These two were young men, and like manyof their generation they imitated the Indian to the extent of wearingthigh-leggings and breech-clouts. 

The ends of the latter were passed through the belt in front and behind, and were allowed to hang down in flaps. These flaps were decorated withcrude beadwork. Around their heads they wore red kerchiefs. Two of theolder men had wives. These women would impress a resident of the seacoastas being stolid of face. 

In reality the continuous apprehension of an Indian raid had frozen theirfeatures into a wooden expression. Their eyes were alive enough. I countedten children, six of whom were girls. I do not think one of the youngsterswas more than twelve years old. 

The boys were continually bemoaning their lack of guns. The girls seemedhappy over the adventure and prattled a stream about the new people theywould see at the creek. I think every one of them had brought along a dollmade from rags, corn-cobs or wood. The maternal was very strong in theirstout little hearts. 

One flaxen-haired miss consented to ride before me after my solemnlyassuring her that horseback travel would not make her dollie sick. Sheshyly confessed her great joy in attending "rollin's. " Her folks, shesaid, had not been invited to the last "rollin', " although they livedwithin fifteen miles of it; and her daddy and mammy had been greatlyincensed. 

But this, fortunately, was a bee where no one waited to be invited, eachsettler, living far or near, having an equal equity in the work. Longbefore we reached the scene of activities we heard the loud voices of themen, the hilarious cries of young folks and the barking of several dogs. My little companion twisted nervously, her blue eyes wide with excitement. Then she was sliding from the horse and with her doll clutched to herside, was scampering ahead with the others. 

Then we grown-ups reached the edge of the clearing. Hacker had reportedfive cabins. Now there were seven, and if the people continued to arrivethere must soon be twice that number. At the first of it the overflowwould take up quarters among those already housed, or in the fort when itwas finished. 

Ordinarily a settler girdled his trees and chopped them down when theywere dead, and then burned them into long logs. Not until the trees weredown and burned into suitable lengths were invitations to the rolling sentout. As this was an emergency rolling the usual custom could not befollowed. 

Some of the dead trees were being burned into sections with small firesbuilt on top and pressed against the wood by butt-ends of logs we callednigger-heads. Boys and girls were feeding small fuel to these fires. Charred logs left over from former rollings were being yanked out andbuilt into the walls of the fort. As not enough seasoned timber wasavailable for such a large structure green logs were being utilized. 

The settlers behind me handed their two guns, clubs and other belongingsover to the small boys, and with a nod and a word of greeting joined theworkers. The women and girls looked after the cattle. Those of the womenwho were not working among the logs were busy in the cabins cooking largequantities of food, for we ate marvelously in those old days. 

As in peaceful times, when a happy home was to evolve from the "rollin', "the usual pot-pie, composed of boiled grouse, pigeon and venison, andalways with dumplings, was the principal dish of the feasting. On a stump, accessible to all who needed it, rested a squat jug containing rum. 

I turned my horse loose near the fort and sought out Davis. He was insidethe fort, superintending the work. The walls of this were well up. As thefirst need was shelter, and as the Indians might strike at any moment, notime was lost with a puncheon floor. The earth must do until the men couldhave a breathing-spell. Four tight walls and a stout roof was the bestthey could hope for. 

Davis paused long enough to inform me that if time permitted they wouldbuild the fort two stories high and stockade it with twelve-foot posts. From his worried expression and obvious anxiety to get back to his work Idid not believe he had any hope of building more than a one-story shell. 

When the Indians struck they would strike with a rush. They would plan ona quick assault taking the settlers by surprise. They dared not remain toconduct a prolonged siege. The fort when completed would not be anystronger than the average cabin; it would simply accommodate moredefenders. 

The nearest water was a spring some twenty yards from the fort. Thisfailure to provide for a water-supply was an amazing characteristic ofmany frontier defenses. There was no reason why the fort should not havebeen built close by the spring, or even over it. I said as much to Davis, but he defended:

"It would place us too near the woods. Their fire-arrows could fall on ustoo easy. "

I reminded him that as the fort was now they would have but little waterto extinguish a fire, whereas the spring would have afforded aninexhaustible supply. However, it was too late to change their plans and Ivolunteered to collect kettles and tubs and organize a water-squad sothere might be plenty of water in the fort each night. 

"Might be a good plan, " agreed Davis. "But I 'low if the Injuns come it'llbe all over, one way or t'other, afore we have time to git thirsty. "

I briefly explained to Davis my business as despatch-bearer, so he mightunderstand my reason for departing in the morning. He was generous enoughto insist that I ran a greater risk in crossing the mountains alone than Iwould encounter by remaining at the creek. 

I left him and levied on kettles to be delivered after supper and thenreturned to the fort. I had barely arrived when the dogs began barking andseveral horses came running through the stumps from the north end of theclearing. Before the alarm could find expression in shouts and a semblanceof defense a deep voice called from the woods:

"White men! Friends! Hacker, Scott and Runner. "

A rousing cheer greeted these newcomers, and one enthusiast grabbed up thejug and ran to meet them. Each of the three drank deeply and were rewardedwith more cheers. If they were murderous in their hatred they would bestout defenders. As for their attitude toward all Indians, there were butfew along the border who did not have some cause for hating the natives. 

This sentiment of the frontier was shown when Henry Judah, arrested forkilling some friendly Indians on the South Branch, was rescued by twohundred pioneers. After his irons were knocked off the settlers warned theauthorities it would not be well to place him in custody a second time. Nor was Judah the only man thus snatched from the law. 

Men like Hacker and his companions would do very little manual labor. Theydid not build homes, but were always roaming about the country. This traitwas of value to men of the Davis type, inasmuch as the killers brought inmuch game when the home-makers were busy with their cabins or planting. 

"Any news, Lige?" bawled Davis, his deep voice booming across the clearingand overriding the clamorous welcome of his neighbors. 

"Found some footing and hoss-tracks, " Runner yelled back. 

"They'll be coming this way, the yaller dogs, and we're here to rub 'em upa bit!" boasted Scott. 

"Jesse Hughes oughter be here, " said one of the men who was notching thelong logs. 

"He'll be along if there's promise of a fight, " assured Hacker. "YoungCousin and Ike Crabtree, too. "

"I 'low them red devils would skin back to the Ohio like a burned cat ifthey know'd you boys was after 'em!" cried Widow McCabe, who was as strongas the average man and could swing an ax with the best of them. Herhusband was killed on the Kanawha the year before, and her hatred ofIndians was as intense as that of any killer. 

"They'll sure know they've met with some trouble, Missus, " modestlyadmitted Hacker. 

The three men seated themselves on a knoll and watched the busy scene. Ijoined them and inquired about the footing they had observed. Scottinformed me they had followed the trail toward the creek and then lostit. 

"It was a small party of scouts, mebbe not more'n three, " he said. "Wesort o' reckon that they 'lowed they might be followed and so took towater. We 'lowed it was best to hustle along here and git in front of thefighting, instead o' losing time trying to find where they quit the creek. You're sticking along, we 'low. "

"No need with all you men. I must carry my despatches over the mountainsto-morrow. "

"Better think twice afore trying it alone. By to-morrow the mountain tracewill probably be shut in by the reds, " declared Hacker ominously. 

"Then I must take my chances of breaking across country. His Lordship musthave the despatches at the earliest possible minute. "

"Of course, " Runner agreed. "Wish you luck even if you got a Quakerstomick when it comes to killing the vermin. But if you want to git acrossyou'd better start at once. Them two or three scouts shows the devils areclosing in. Every hour saved now means a dozen more chances for your hairto grow. "

As I believed the footing the fellows found was left by the three IndiansI had pronounced to be friendly, I was not much exercised in my mind bythe warning. I did not believe the Indians would seek to cut off thesettlement. They must strike and be off, and they would prefer to have thesettlers in flight over the mountains, with the inevitable stragglerseasily cut off, than to have them stubbornly remaining in the cabins andfort. 

If time was not vital, and providing the Shawnees could bring a largeforce, then an encircling movement would be their game. But Cornstalk andLogan would not lead a big force into any of the valleys. They knew aswell as the whites that the war was to be won by one decisive battle. 

These isolated raids up and down the western valleys were simply of valuein that they might unnerve the settlers and keep them from leaving theircabins to join the army Dunmore proposed to send against the Shawneetowns. And last of all I was fagged by my long ride and would have onenight's unworried sleep, let the risk be ever so great. 

The dinner, much belated, was now ready, and the workers were asked toassemble in and around the Davis cabin. Four men were left to do sentinelduty, and the children were told to keep on with their work and play asthey would be served after the men had eaten. Huge pot-pies were hurriedfrom all the cabins to where the backwoodsmen were waiting to prove theirappetites. 

Several jugs of rum garnished the feast. The Widow McCabe contributed ascanty stock of tea, but the men would have none of it on the grounds thatit did not "stick to the ribs. "

My helping of pie was served on a huge china plate that had been packedover the mountains with much trouble and when every inch of room wasneeded for the bare necessities. Thus tenacious were the women in comingto this raw country to preserve their womanliness. I might have thought Iwas being favored had not Mrs. Davis frankly informed me that her fewpieces of china were shunned by her men-folks on the plea the ware "dulledtheir sculping-knives. "

Finishing my meal, I seated myself on a stump and proceeded to remove mymoccasins and mend them. Davis joined me in a similar task; for while itrequired only two or three hours to make a pair of moccasins it wasnecessary to mend them almost daily. Davis greatly admired the awl Ibought over the mountains, although it was no more serviceable than theone he had made from the back spring of a clasp-knife. 

A settler might be unfortunate enough not to possess a gun, but there wasnone who did not carry a moccasin-awl attached to the strap of hisshot-pouch, a roll of buckskin for patches and some deerskin thongs, orwhangs, for sewing. While we sat there barefooted and worked we discussedthe pending big battle. He held what I considered to be a narrow view ofthe situation. He was for having every valley act on the defensive untilthe Indians were convinced they were wasting warriors in attempting todrive the settlers back over the mountains. 

While we argued back and forth those children having finished their dinnertook to playing at "Injun. " The boys hid in ambush and the little girlsendeavored to steal by them without being "sculped. " Along the edge of theclearing were five or six sentinels. They were keeping only a perfunctorywatch, their eyes and ears giving more heed to the laughter and banterthan to the silent woods. At the northern end of the clearing somelovesick swain surrendered to sentiment and in a whimsical nasal voicebegan singing:

 "Come all ye young people, for I'm going for to sing Consarnin' Molly Pringle and her lov-yer, Reuben King. "

The thin penetrating shriek of a child somewhere in the forest pricked ourears, the clear falsetto of its fright silencing the singer and leavinghis mouth agape. I began drawing on my moccasins, but before I couldfinish a wonderful transformation had taken place in the clearing. As ifthe cry had been a prearranged signal, six of the young men filed silentlyinto the woods, moving one behind the other, their hunting-shirts nowinside their belts leaving their thighs bare, as if they had been so manyShawnees. 

They moved swiftly and silently with no more show of confusion or emotionthan if they had been setting out on routine scout-duty. The childscreamed again, but not before feasters and workers had becomefighting-units. Those possessing guns ran quietly in scattering groupstoward the forest, leaving the women to guard the clearing and children. 

And the women! They were marvelous in their spirit. With scarcely a wordthey caught up the axes dropped by the men and formed a long line with thechildren behind them. Little girls became little mothers and hurried stillsmaller tots to the unfinished fort. 

The woodsmen advanced to the woods, the women slowly fell back, herdingthe youngsters behind them. As I ran my best to make up for the time lostover my moccasins I passed the Widow McCabe. I shall never forget theferocious gleam of her slate-gray eyes, nor the superb courage of the thinlips compressed in a straight line. 

She moved with the grace of a forest cat, reluctant to fall back, hermuscular arm swinging the heavy ax as if it were a toy. Abreast of her, and likewise refusing to retreat, was Moulton's wife, mother of three. Shewas a thin, frail-appearing little woman with prominent blue eyes, and hergaze was glassy as she stared at the woods, and her lips were drawn backin a snarl. 

"Moulton gal missin', " ran down the line. "Git t'other younkers back. "

The line began bending at the ends to form a half-circle. The distractedlittle mother left her place in it. Without a word to betray the anguishtearing at her heart she gathered her linsey petticoat snugly about her, and grasping an ax, ran swiftly toward the direction of the screaming. TheWidow McCabe hesitated, glanced over her shoulder. Satisfied the otherwomen had the children well grouped and close to the fort, she dartedafter Mrs. Moulton. 

"Keep back, you women!" yelled Elijah Runner. "Stay with the children!They're letting the child scream to fetch us into a' ambush!"

This was excellent advice, but the widow and Mrs. Moulton gave it no heed. One was impelled by hate, the other by love; and as they crashed into thegrowth behind me each was worth a woodsman or two in hand-to-handfighting. With unnerving abruptness a man laughed boisterously directlyahead of me. Yells and questions filled the arches of the deep wood. 

"Everybody back! False alarm! Nothin' but the gal gittin' skeered, " heshouted. "I'm fetchin' her in, an' th' feller what skeered her. "

Explosive laughter from the men and much crude banter marked our relief. Mrs. Moulton dropped her ax and with both hands held to her face stumbledinto the clearing. The Widow McCabe walked with her head bowed, the axheld limply. Although rejoicing over the child's safety, I suspected sheregretted not having had a chance to use her ax. 

"Here they come! Two babies!" some one shouted. 

Mrs. Moulton turned and ran toward the woods again, much as ahen-partridge scurries to its young. 

The bush-growth swayed and parted. First came the frightened child, andshe redoubled her weeping on finding herself in her mother's arms. Behindthe child came a grinning woodsman and back of him rode a tall man of verypowerful build, but with a face so fat as to appear round and wearing anexpression of stupidity. 

It was my first glimpse of him, but I recognized him instantly from themany descriptions border men had given of him. He was known as "Baby"Kirst, and he was a Nemesis the Indians had raised against themselves, apiece of terrible machinery which their superstitions would not permitthem to kill. 

His intelligence was that of a child of seven. When about that age hispeople were massacred on the Greenbriar and he had been left for dead witha portion of his scalp ripped off and a ghastly wound in his head. By somemiracle he had survived, but with his mental growth checked. Physically hehad developed muscle and bone until he was a giant in strength. 

The red men believed him to be under the protection of the Great Spirit, and when they heard him wandering through the woods, sometimes weepinglike a peevish child because some little plan had gone awry, more oftenlaughing uproariously at that which would tickle the fancy of aseven-year-old, they made mad haste to get out of his path. 

His instinct to kill was aroused against Indians only. Perhaps it wasinduced by a vague memory of dark-skinned men having hurt him at sometime. Nor was he always possessed by this ungovernable rage. Sometimes hewould spend a day in an Indian camp, but woe to the warrior who eveninadvertently crossed his whims. 

He was not skilled in woodcraft beyond the cunning necessary forsurprising easy game such as turkeys, squirrels and rabbits. Regardless ofhis enormous appetite food was gladly given him at every cabin; forwherever he sought shelter, that place was safe from any Indian attack. 

While Mrs. Moulton hurried her child to the fort and hushed its weepingwith pot-pie the young men raised a yelping chorus and came dancing intothe clearing with all the prancing steps of the red men. Deep-voiced oathsand thunderous welcomes were showered upon Baby Kirst as he proudly rodeamong them, his huge face further distended by a broad grin. 

Awkwardly dismounting from his rawbone horse, he stared around the circleand with one hand held behind him tantalizingly said:

"Got something. Sha'n't let you peek at it. "

"Let's see it, Baby, " coaxed Runner, his tone such as he might use inpleading with a child. 

"No!" And Baby shook his head stubbornly and grinned mischievously. 

"'Lasses on mush. Heaps of it, Baby, " bribed Davis. 

Baby became interested. Davis repeated his offer. Slowly Baby drew frombehind him the scalp of a white man. It was long, dark brown hair, burnedto a yellowish white at the ends by the sun. 

"That's Ben Kirby's hair!" gasped Scott, staring in horror at the exhibit. Then aside, "Good God, he ain't took to killing whites, has he?"

"Where'd you git it, Baby?" coaxed Hacker. "Davis will give you a big bowlof mush and 'lasses. "

"That man had it, " proudly informed Baby, and he fished from the bosom ofhis hunting-shirt a hank of coarse black hair. 

"A Shawnee sculp or I'm a flying-squirrel!" yelled Runner. "Don't youunderstand it, men? Some dog of a Shawnee rubbed out Kirby. His hair'sbeen off his head these six weeks. No wonder he ain't come in to help youfolks to fort. 

"Baby meets this Shawnee and gives him his needings. The red devil's sculpain't more'n three days old. Good for you, Baby! Good boy! Give him allthe 'lasses he can hold. Needn't worry about any raid s'long as he stayshere, Davis. You can just take your time in finishing that fort. "

"If we could only keep him!" sighed Davis. 

"But you can't, " spoke up a young man. "Every one has tried. A day or two, yes. Then he must go back to the woods. When the Injuns failed to finishhim off they did a bad job for themselves. "

"We'll keep him long's we can, " said Davis. "Hi, mother! Fill themixing-bowl with mush and cover it with sweeting. "

As proud as a boy being praised by his elders, Baby started to strut tothe Davis cabin, but quickly fell into a limping walk and whimpered abit. 

"Crippled on account of rheumatiz, " sighed Runner. "Rheumatiz has put morehunters and fighters out of business than the Ohio Injuns ever did. Andpoor Baby can't remember to always sleep with his feet to the fire. If wecould git him a stout pair of shoes to wear in place of them spongymoccasins it would pay us. "

Kirst was too grotesque to laugh at, and the settlers were grotesque whenthey smiled at his ferocious appetite, and in the next moment tried to buythe protection of his presence. Let him regularly patrol a dozen miles offrontier each day, and I would guarantee no Indian would knowingly crosshis path. 

More than one party of red raiders had unwittingly followed his trail, only to turn in flight as if the devil was nipping after them once theyglimpsed his bulky figure, heard his whimpering or his loud laughter. Themen followed him to the Davis Cabin, each eager to contribute to thegeneral gossip concerning the child-man's prodigious strength. 

As my horse was straying toward the west side of the clearing I went tofetch him back and spancel him near the fort. I had secured him and wasabout to ride him back when a rifle cracked close at hand in the woods, and I heard a voice passionately jeering:

"I 'low that cotched ye where ye lived, didn't it?"

I drove my horse through the bushes and came upon a sickening scene. AnIndian man and a squaw were seated on a horse. On the ground was anotherIndian. A glance told me he was dead from the small blue hole through theforehead. The man and woman on the horse remained as motionless as ifparalyzed. 

Isaac Crabtree stood reloading his long rifle, his sallow face twisted ina smile of vicious joy. As he rammed home the charge I crowded my horseagainst him and sent him sprawling. Turning to the Indians I cried:

"Ride away! Ride quick!"

"We are friendly Cherokees!" cried the woman in that tongue. "That manthere is called Cherokee Billy by white men. " And she pointed to the deadman. 

With that she swerved the horse about, kicked her feet into his ribs anddashed away, the man clinging on behind her, his dark features devoid ofexpression. An oath brought my head about. Crabtree was on his feet, hishand drawing his ax, his face livid with rage. 

"Curse you!" he stuttered. "Ye sp'iled my baggin' the three of 'em!"

"You've bagged Cherokee Billy, the brother of Oconostota, the great chiefof the Cherokees, " I wrathfully retorted. "It would have been well for thefrontier if I could have arrived in time to bag you before you did it. TheCherokees have kept out of the war, but it'll be a wonder if they don'tswarm up this creek when they hear of this murder. "

"Let 'em come!" he yelled. "That's what we want. It'll take more'n you, Basdel Morris, to keep my paws clear of the critters once I git a bead onone of 'em. Git out of my way so's I can git my rifle. I'll have the threeof 'em yet. "

"If you make a move to follow them I'll shoot you, " I promised. 

By this time men were crashing through the bushes. Then came a loudernoise and Baby Kirst, mounted on his big horse, his broad face bedaubedwith molasses, burst on the scene. A dozen settlers crowded into the spotbehind him. Hacker and Runner were the first to see the dead Indian. Witha whoop they drew their knives and rushed in to get the scalp. I drovethem back with my horse and loudly informed them:

"It's Cherokee Billy, brother of Oconostota, who can send the wholeCherokee nation against you, or hold it back. "

"I don't care what Injun it is, " howled Hacker. "Hair's hair. Git out theway, or you'll git acquainted with my ax. I'll have that scalp. "

"Not so fast, " I warned. "The hair belongs to Crabtree here. Kill your ownscalps. Crabtree doesn't care to take that scalp. He knows Oconostota hasa long memory. " And I swung about, my rifle across the saddle and in adirect line with the murderer's chin. 

"It's my kill, " growled Crabtree. "Morris held me up with his gun, or I'dbagged t'other two of 'em. "

"I'd like to see him hold me up when there's red meat to be run down!"snarled Runner. 

There were four killers present in addition to the irresponsible Kirst. Iwas helpless against them, I could not shoot a man down for proposing tofollow two Indians, let the reds be ever so friendly toward the whites. But Patrick Davis had come to Howard's Creek to stay, and it was a problemhe could handle. It at once developed that he did not fancy the prospectof a Cherokee reprisal. He stepped in front of Runner and in a low uglyvoice said:

"You fellows quit this talk. 'Nough mischief has been done. UnlessOconostota can be smoothed down there'll be trouble from Rye Cove toTygart's Valley. As for following t'other two, you'll reckon with me andmy neighbors first. "

"A dead Injun ain't worth quarreling over, " spoke up Widow McCabe from theedge of the group; and her eyes glowed as they rested on Cherokee Billy. 

Mrs. Moulton now came on the scene. She still had her husband, and shefrantically called on her friends to prevent further bloodshed. Thegreater number of the men, while unwilling to criticize Crabtree for hisdastardly murder, did not care to add to the Cherokees' anger, and theytook sides with Davis. I believed the whole affair had ended, but Crabtreewas crafty, and he caused fresh fear by reminding them:

"You folks are fools to let the only witnesses to that dawg's death gitaway and take word back to the Cherokees. If Morris hadn't took a handthere wouldn't 'a' been that danger. "

Many settlers were long used to classifying the red men with the wildanimals along the border. Therefore, the question of killing the twofleeing Cherokees became a matter of policy, rather than of sentiment. ButDavis, although he wavered, finally declared he would have none of it. Hereminded his friends that they would soon be called by Dunmore to marchagainst the Ohio tribes, and that it would not do to leave hostileCherokees behind them to attack the valleys. Hacker, Runner, Scott andCrabtree perceived that the settlers were opposed to further bloodshed, but Crabtree still had a card to play. Turning to Baby Kirst, who wasstaring intently down on the dead man, he suddenly cried:

"Sweet sugar, Baby, if you ride and find two Injuns just gone away. "

And he pointed in the direction taken by the man and woman. With a yelp ofjuvenile delight Baby slapped his horse and rode away down the valley. 

"Now you've done it!" growled Davis, scowling blackly at Crabtree. "You'vemade trouble atween us and the Cherokees, and you've drove away the bestdefense against Injuns we could 'a' had. "

"I don't have to have no loose-wit to stand 'tween me and Injuns, " sneeredCrabtree. 

"You're better at killing unarmed Indians than in putting up a realfight, " I accused. "You're not fond of traveling very far from asettlement when you draw blood. Shelby Cousin was telling me down on theCheat that you like to be near a white man's cabin when you make a kill. "

His sallow face flushed red, but he had no harsh words to say againstyoung Cousin. Without replying to me he made for the Davis cabin to getsomething to eat, leaving Cherokee Billy for others to bury. I noticed itwas the Widow McCabe, with her slate-gray eyes half-closed and gleamingbrightly, who waited on Crabtree and heaped his plate with food. 

What with the interruptions and the nervous tension of the men it wasafter sunset before the roof of the fort was finished. It was agreed thatthe men with families should sleep in the fort that night with the singlemen occupying the cabins nearest the fort. I took up my quarters in theDavis cabin, after reminding my friends again that I must start early inthe morning to cross the mountains on my way to Colonel Lewis who livednear Salem. 

"Why, land sake! To Salem! Why, look here! You'll be seeing my cousin, Ericus Dale!" excitedly exclaimed Mrs. Davis. 

My emotion was far greater than that expressed by Mrs. Davis, but the duskof early evening permitted me to conceal it. It was three years since Ihad seen the Dales, father and daughter. They were then living inWilliamsburg. It was most astonishing that they should be now living inSalem. But this was going too fast. 

It did not follow that Patricia Dale was in Salem because her father wasthere. In truth, it was difficult to imagine Patsy Dale being content withthat little settlement under the eastern eaves of the mountains. Before Icould find my tongue Mrs. Davis was informing her neighbors:

"My cousin, Ericus, ain't got many warm spots in his heart for GovernorDunmore. He's sure to be sot ag'in' this war. He's a very powerful man inthe colony. " Then to me, "I want you to see Patsy and tell her not tothink of coming out here this summer. She's not to come till the Injunshave been well whipped. "

"Coming out here?" I dully repeated. 

"They was opinin' to when I last got word from 'em last March. They was attheir home in Williamsburg, and the girl wrote she was going to Salem withher father, who had some trading-business to fix up. 'Spected to be thereall summer, and was 'lowing to come out here with her daddy. But seeinghow things is going, it won't do. Mebbe Salem even won't be safe for 'em. It won't put you out any to see her and tell her?"

I trusted to the dusk to conceal my burning cheeks. I had supposed I hadsecured control of myself during my three years on the border. It would beimpossible for any man who had looked into Patsy Dale's dark blue eyes toforget her; and we had been something more than friends. I promised Mrs. Davis I would do her errand, and hurried from the cabin. 

The ride ahead of me suddenly became momentous. I was thrilled with theprospect of seeing Patsy again; and I was afraid the interview woulddisturb me vastly. To be alone and arrange my jumbled thoughts I helpeddrive the horses into a small inclosure, well stockaded, and watched theboys coming through the clearing to drive the cattle into their stalls inseveral hollow sycamores. These natural shelters, once the openings wereenlarged and protected with bars, made excellent pens for the domesticanimals and fowls. I was still thinking about Patsy Dale and the time whenher young life touched mine when the cabin doors were barred and it wastime to sleep. 

CHAPTER III

OVER THE MOUNTAINS

When I opened my eyes a young man was surveying the clearing through achink above the door. This morning vigilance was customary in every cabinalong the frontier and revealed the settler's realization of the everpresent danger. No wonder those first men grew to hate the dark forest andthe cover it afforded the red raiders. A reconnaissance made through apeephole could at the best satisfy one that no stump in the clearingconcealed an Indian. 

It was with this unsatisfactory guarantee that the settler unbarred hisdoor. He could never be sure that the fringe of the woods was not alivewith the enemy. And yet young men fell in love and amorously sought theirmates, and were married, and their neighbors made merry, and children wereborn. And always across the clearing lay the shadow of the tomahawk. 

Now that I am older and the blood runs colder, and the frontier is pushedbeyond the mountains, I often wonder what our town swains would do if theyhad to risk their scalps each time a sweetheart was visited!

The man at the door dropped back to the puncheon floor, announcing: "Allclear at my end. "

A companion at the other end of the cabin made a similar report, and thedoor was opened. Two of the men, with their rifles ready, stepped outsideand swiftly swung their gaze along the edge of the forest. The earlymorning mists obscured the vision somewhat. A bell tinkled just within theundergrowth. Instantly the fellows outside dropped behind stumps, while weinside removed the plugs from loopholes. 

"All the cattle is in, " murmured a youth to me, so young his first beardhad barely sprouted. "Injun trick to git us out there. "

Several minutes passed, then Davis loudly called from the fort:

"It's all right! Hodge's critter wa'n't fetched in last night. "

Even as he spoke the cow emerged from the bushes. 

Smoke began issuing from the cabin chimneys and the women came from thefort to warm up the remains of the pot-pies, to bake corn bread andprepare mush. The men scattered through the clearing. Some chopped downbushes which might mask a foe's stealthy advance, others cleared out logswhich might serve as breastworks for the raiders. 

Labor did not appeal to the four killers, and their part was done whenthey slipped into the forest, each taking a different course, and scoutedfor signs and bagged some game. As my business demanded an early departureI was not expected to participate in any of these precautions. 

I saw that my horse had his feed and water and led him back to the cabin, and gave my weapons their daily overhauling. Mrs. Davis paused in herlabors long enough to remind me of her message to Patricia Dale. Ireassured her so earnestly that she turned from her corn-bread baking in aflat pan before the open fire and stared at me rather intently. There wasno dodging her keen eyes. 

"See here, " she exclaimed; "you've met Patsy already, I 'low. "

I hesitated between the truth and a lie, and then nodded my head. Shebrushed a limp strand of hair from her face, and in so doing left asmut-streak across her nose, and half-closed her eyes while a smile tuggedat the corners of her mouth. 

"I can't say yet whether you're lucky, or just the opposite, " she demurelyremarked. 

A loud call from the forest relieved my answering this insinuating remark, and I stepped outdoors to find the men leaving their work and the womenleaving their cooking. "White man coming!" bawled a young man. 

"Ain't any of the scouts, " said Davis. "Better gather the children in. White man sure enough, but it may be one of the renegade breed. Surveyorsfrom the Kanawha say Tavenor Ross is out with the reds ag'in. "

There was no haste or confusion in preparing for this possible attack ledby a white man. The children scuttled to their mothers; the men slowlyfell back to fort and cabins. The fact that four Indian-haters werecarefully scouting the woods satisfied us that no enemy could get veryclose without being fired upon. The white man called again. This time hewas answered from two directions. 

"It's all right, " shouted Davis. "Ike Crabtree answered him. So did LigeRunner. Crabtree never would 'a' yipped till sure there wa'n't no Injunwaiting to be shot down. Prob'ly some one from the Holston. "

"Hooray!" howled a seventeen-year-old lad, who painted his face inaddition to wearing Indian leggings. "It's Jesse Hughes!"

His endorsement of the passionate, reckless man evoked more enthusiasmfrom the younger men than from their elders. So implacable was Hughes inhis hatred of the natives that he was incapable of any self-restraint. Hisparticipation in the massacre of the Bulltown families had made him awell-known character wherever Indian-fighters met. 

Crabtree loved to kill Indians, but he always weighed his chances andnever scorned an advantage. Hughes killed on sight, whether in asettlement or in the woods, whether the act brought one or a score ofdusky avengers on his trail. Nor did it matter if the Indian be friendlyto the whites and known to be perfectly harmless. His skin condemned him. 

Although a master of woodcraft and possessing a knowledge of westernVirginia equaled by few men, Hughes was never asked to lead a command ofrangers sent to rescue prisoners, or punish a village. He was tooirresponsible. He would imperil the lives of a score of friends bent on asurprise attack by firing upon the first savage he saw. 

The young men saw in him the successful killer. Their elders preferred totravel the forests without him. His presence in a settlement once war cameto the frontier, however, was always desirable, as in case of a fight hewould do the enemy much damage. 

When he rode from the forest the four scouts came with him; and there wasno question as to their admiration of the fellow. Greetings were calledout by men and women. He saw me mounted and some one told him of myjourney. He rode up to me and warned me to be watchful as he had foundtracks a few miles south of the mountain-trace I proposed following. 

His errand at Howard's Creek was to secure a few men and attempt to cutoff this band. Eager queries for news induced him to say he had just comefrom Clinch River, and that Captain William Russell, in charge of therangers along the Clinch, had started Daniel Boone and Michael Stoner forthe Falls of the Ohio to warn the surveyors along the river that theIndians were out and would soon be attacking the frontier and combing theKentucky country clean. 

With much gusto he added that three Cherokees had been killed recently atthe head of the Clinch. The thoughtless, in unison with Hacker and hiscompanions, cheered this announcement most lustily. The men with familieslooked very grave. Of Baby Kirst, Hughes had seen no signs. 

His report of Indian-signs near my route over the mountains influenced meto return to the cabin and check up my ammunition more carefully. I spreada double handful of small bullets on the table, running seventy to thepound, and let each slip through my fingers to make sure none wasirregular. Only those which were round and smooth were returned to thepouch. 

My flints and greased linen patches were examined a second time. An agedman, known as Uncle Dick, came in and watched me curiously, and grinned inapproval of my caution. It was seldom a man reached his advanced age onthe frontier. I had never heard Uncle Dick's last name, nor do I believethere was any one on the creek who had heard it. 

According to rumor he had gone against some law in South Carolina and hadfled to the frontier. Despite his many years he was sturdy and strong, buthis failing eyesight made him dependent upon knife and ax. Much travel inwet weather had crippled him with rheumatism, and he remained close towhatever settlement he happened to visit. 

"Fill the breast o' yer shirt with hunks o' corn cake, younker. Be sureyer ax is hitched so it won't be snagged from the loop when ye ridehellitiflicker through the bushes, " he warned me. 

I nodded, and he seated himself on a three-legged stool and whetted a longknife against one of the fireplace stones, and mumbled:

"Don't make no differ about me, but for the sake o' these younkers heresuch men as love killin' Injuns oughter keep clear o' the settlements an'do their stent on t'other side the Ohio. Old Cornstalk's powerful keen togit them fellers. When he hears they're here at the creek he's likely tostrike quick an' mighty pert. Wal, if they come an' I can make ithand-grips with 'em I 'low there'll be some new Injuns in the HappyHuntin'-grounds. "

When I bid the people good-by and received their kindly wishes for a safejourney, Uncle Dick was still at the fireplace, trying to improve therazor-edge of his blade. 

I rode through the woods without spending any time in looking for signs. Runner and his mates had scouted a circle around the clearing in athorough fashion, and I could spare my eyes until I reached the firstslope of the mountains. When the path began to ascend and I was afforded abetter view of the heavens, thunder-clouds were piling in sullenmassiveness above the western horizon. 

The heat was very oppressive. The dull rumble of thunder came across thevalley behind. It was as much of a vibration as a sound, something to befelt as well as heard. The song-birds were keeping close to the thicketsand fluttering about nervously. By the time I was well committed to thefirst rugged ascent, a yellowish gray wall filled the western sky. Acrossthis the lightning played. 

As the curtain of rain drove in toward the Greenbriar I knew that anysavages lurking west of Howard's Creek would be bothered to keep theirpriming dry. No rain fell on my path, however, and at no time did I losethe early morning sun. On gaining a higher elevation I could see the stormwas following the valley down to the head waters of the Clinch. 

I had not neglected Uncle Dick's advice in regard to provisions, and thefront of my loose hunting-shirt held a bag of corn cakes and some cookedvenison. On reaching the first slope I had watched carefully for thetracks Hughes had seen south of the trace, but found none. 

There could be no question of Hughes' ability to read Indian-signs; andhis warning recalled the Grisdols to my mind. These people--two brothersand two children--had their cabin in a hollow close by a tumbling brookand to one side of the trace. I planned to make a slight détour and pass aword with them and to warn them to be watchful. 

The fact that Hughes had found signs near the mountains would indicate theIndians had planned a raid against some isolated home, and as there was nofooting in the trace I followed, it might easily be that the enemy hadentered lower down. 

Along toward the noon hour I topped a ridge and decided I would halt andeat at the first spring or brook I came to. My horse, an old campaigner inwilderness work, pricked his ears as we began dipping down the gentleslope. I studied the path ahead and the timbered slopes on both sides todiscover the cause of this attention. 

The animal was intelligent. I knew it could be no wild creature as therewas no suggestion of fear in the attentive ears. Dissatisfied at remainingin ignorance, I reined in to investigate more carefully. Almost at oncethe horse swung his head to the right and gazed curiously. On this sidethe space was bordered by a beech grove. Owing to the rank bush-growthlining the path, little could be seen of the grove from any point belowwhere I had halted until a brook, which cut the path, was reached. 

I leaned forward and looked between the horse's ears and discovered a beardown in the hollow, nosing about for nuts and grubs on the bank of thebrook. A bear was always acceptable meat to a settler, and I at oncedecided to stalk the brute and pack his carcass to the Grisdol cabin. 

After the first moment he passed behind some trees, but as I continued toglimpse him I knew he had not taken alarm. I slid from my horse andstarted him down the trace, and then ducked into the grove and rapidlydescended toward the brook. I had no fear of my horse losing himself, ashe would make for the stream where I would join him within a few minutes. 

As I flitted from tree to tree I repeatedly sighted the animal as he pokedhis nose about in search of ants or grubs, and yet when I reached a pointwithin sixty or seventy-five yards of where he should have been feeding Icould not locate him. 

A half-formed suspicion popped into my mind from nowhere. My horse hadshown no nervousness in drawing nearer to the bear. The bushes preventedmy seeing the horse, but I could hear him as he quickened his pace toreach the tumbling brook. Now for a second I saw the bear again, and mysuspicion grew stronger. 

The brute impressed me as being very lean, whereas the season was enoughadvanced to have grown some fat on his bones. I was fairly startled nextto behold the creature emerge from behind a tree and walk upright towardthe opening made by the brook, cutting across the trace. Had I not beenpartly primed for the surprise I should have been astounded at my seconddiscovery; the bear was armed with a gun. 

Expecting to behold me on the horse when the animal reached the brook thefellow's only thought was to remain unseen by any one in the trace. Hehalted behind a tree, but in full view of me, and standing with his leftside exposed to me. Had I the instincts of a killer I would have shot himforthwith, and as he was obviously stalking me, having discovered I wastraveling over the trace, I would have been justified. As it was Iwhistled shrilly. 

Like a flash the bearskin fell back and a painted Shawnee wheeled to faceme. Even as he turned his smoothbore banged away and half a dozen buckshotrained through the branches over my head. He was slipping behind the treewhen I fired. 

He went down with a foot and part of his leg exposed. Controlling animpulse to close in I reloaded, taking great care in wrapping the greasedpatch about the bullet. I believed I had done for him, but to make sure Isent another pellet through the exposed foot. It twitched, as a dead limbwill, but without muscular reaction. Reloading, and circling warily toavoid being taken by surprise by any companion, I reached the beech. Myfirst shot had caught him through the base of the neck, killinginstantly. 

He wore a necklace of bear's claws and was hideously painted. He had thesnake totem on his chest and was nude except for his breech-clout andmoccasins. Fastened to his clout were four awful exhibits of hispredaceous success--four scalps. One was gray, another streaked with gray, and two--oh, the pity of it--were soft and long. 

I removed them and placed them in the roll of buckskin that I carried formoccasin-patches. And my heart being hardened, I scalped the murderer withnever a qualm. No warning was longer needed at the Grisdol cabin. TheIndians had struck. 

Furtively scanning the grove, I stole to the trace where my horse stoodfetlock-deep in the brook. The dead warrior had known of my coming, or ofsome one's coming, and had had time to masquerade as a bear. He hadthought to catch his victim off his guard. 

The four scalps proved the raiders were out in numbers, for a small partywould not venture so far east. But the dead warrior's attempt to ambush mein a bearskin also proved he was working alone for the time being. Yetgunshots carry far, and I might expect the Shawnees to be swarming intothe hollow at any moment. 

Mounting my horse, I turned north, left of the trace, and picked a coursewhere no trail ran, and from which I could occasionally catch a glimpse ofthe path some fifty feet below. I discovered no signs of the enemy, andthere was no way of telling whether they were ahead or behind me. Thatthey must have heard the roar of the smoothbore and the whip-like crack ofmy Deckhard was not to be doubted. Nor would they fail to guess the truth, inasmuch as the rifle had spoken last. 

It became very difficult to keep along the side of the slope and Idismounted and led the horse. The prolonged howl of a wolf sounded behind. My horse was greatly afraid of wolves, yet he did not draw back anddisplay nervousness. I increased my pace, then halted and half-raised myrifle as there came a shuffling of feet above me, accompanied by a tinyavalanche of forest mold and rotten chestnuts. I rested the rifle over thesaddle and endeavored to peer through the tangle of beech and inferiorgrowth which masked the flank of the slope. 

The sliding, shuffling sound continued with no attempt at concealment thatI could discover; and yet there was nothing to shoot at. Suddenly thenoise ceased. I was still staring toward the spot where it had lastsounded when a calm voice behind me called out:

"They're after you. "

It was Shelby Cousin, with the hate of the border making his young facevery hard and cruel. 

"I've been scouting 'em, " he informed me. "I seen you take to the side o'this ridge. I seen 'em streamin' down the trace. They picked up your trailmighty smart. Now they're scattered all along behind you. "

I opened the roll of buckskin and disclosed the terrible trophies. Hestraightened and threw his head back, and for a moment stood with his eyesclosed, his slight figure trembling violently. Then he fiercelywhispered:

"How'd you git these from the devils?"

There was an expectant glare in his gaze. I showed him the hair of theShawnee. 

"Good! Good!" he repeated exultantly as he gloated over the repulsivething. Then gloomily:

"But why couldn't I 'a' took it? Luck's been ag'in' me for days. Found aburned cabin after I quit you on the Cheat, an' 'lowed to ambush the partywhen they made for the Ohio. 'Stead o' goin' to their villages they fooledme by strikin' across to here. Now they've made this kill! Who be they?"

"The Grisdols. Only a short distance from here. Two men and the twochildren. No women. I knew them. I must go there and bury them and thesescalps. "

"I'll help, " he mumbled. "I ain't heard no discovery-yell yet. They'restill huntin' for your signs along this ridge. " Trailing his double-barrelrifle, he took the lead and began a diagonal descent to the trace I hadabandoned. I murmured a protest, but he assured me:

"They're all behind us. We can make quicker time in the trace. They'll hopon to your trail sure's shootin'. Speed is what we hanker for. "

His woodcraft was remarkable. He seemed to possess the gift of seeing thatwhich was concealed. With a glance he would observe land formations andthe nature of the growth, and confidently circle a heavy grove and tell mewhat would be the nature of the traveling beyond, and whether wet or dry. 

"We could slide down into the trace in a minute any time, but I don't wantto take to it till we round the bend ahead; then we'll be out o' sight o'the reds strung along the ridge. "

He had halted as he explained this and I was almost abreast of him, and hestartled me by whipping up his rifle and firing. As the shot rang out herejoiced:

"One!"

I had heard nothing, seen nothing, and yet he had both heard and seen, andhad made his kill. 

"No use coverin' up any longer, " he said. "They're closin' in. Make forthe trace shortest way. Hold back once you hit it for me to come up. There's not more'n two or three close at hand, but the whole kit an'b'ilin' know we're here. "

The spiteful _spang_ of his rifle barely interrupted the woods life closeabout us. Only for a moment did the squirrels cease their chatter. Agrouse drummed away in alarm, but only for a short flight. No cries ofrage, nor war-whoops, warned that the enemy were closing in on us. Had Ibeen new to the border I should have disbelieved my companion's statement. Leading the horse, I started down the bank while Cousin climbed higher. 

It was not until my horse slid down a ten-foot bank that I heard a hostilesound--the rush of many feet through last year's dead leaves. I heard theDeckhard fired once, and instantly the side of the ridge was as quiet as adeath-chamber. Then came the scream of a panther, Cousin's way ofannouncing a kill. 

They must have attempted rushing him, thinking his rifle was empty; for hefired again, and once more gave voice to his war-cry. Then the old eternalquiet of the forest dropped back in place. Until I heard a Shawneescalp-cry I could rest easy as to my companion. I slipped into the traceand mounted, and pushed ahead. 

The Indians were abreast of me and there was the danger of their cuttinginto the trace ahead. That they had not followed at my heels made mebelieve they were concentrating all their energies on making a surroundand killing, or capturing their much feared enemy. They would prefer todance Cousin's scalp than to dance a dozen of men of my caliber. 

There were no more shots up the ridge, and I found it hard to decide justwhat gait I should permit my horse to take. I could not leave the boybehind, nor did I care to risk being intercepted. I was worrying my mindinto a fine stew over this point when the bushes stirred ahead. I droppedto the ground behind the horse, but it was young Cousin. He motioned forme to hurry. 

"You dodged them!" I said. 

"Black Hoof's band. They're hard to dodge, " he whispered, striding rapidlyalong and swinging his head from side to side. "How far to the Grisdolcabin?"

"Two miles. "

"Then ride for it. I'll run at your stirrup. We'll need that cabin if itain't been burned. I 'low it'll be a close race. "

There was no sign of pursuit. I was no novice in Indian warfare, but inthis instance I scarcely believed the Shawnees would draw near enough tomake the chase interesting. So far as I could observe Cousin had succeededin stealing away from them, and there was no Indian who could overtakehim, especially if he ran at my stirrup. 

"They've took four sculps on this side the valley, " he murmured as heloped along at my side. "I bagged three on 'em. You fetched one. BlackHoof is too big a chief to call it quits. He's back there leadin' thechase. So I 'low it'll be close. "

A curious little thrill chilled my spine. Catahecassa, or Black Hoof, wasone of the most redoubtable and resourceful savages to be found in theShawnee nation. If below Cornstalk's intellectual plane he made up formuch of any such discrepancy by his fiery courage and deep cunning. 

The long-drawn howl of a wolf sounded up the slope on our left and wassoon answered by a similar call directly in our rear. For a third time thesignal menaced us, on our right and at a considerable distance. 

"They're still scoutin' the ridge for me, " murmured Cousin, his lean faceturning to the left. "The heft of 'em are comin' along the trace behindus. Those over to the right are hustlin' to find out what's up. We mustgit along faster!"

My mount responded eagerly, for he sensed the danger. And it was wonderfulto observe how Cousin kept up, with one hand on my stirrup, the otherholding the rifle. We were well beyond the brook where I shot my Shawnee, and within half a mile or less of the Grisdol cabin, when our flight wasinterrupted for a few moments by the behavior of my horse. 

It was just as we turned from the main trace to strike into the pathleading to the cabin that the animal bolted sidewise, crowding Cousin deepinto the bushes. I reined in and stared down on a terrible sight--that ofthe four Grisdols. They lay in the path, head to head, in the form of across. I felt my stirrup shake as Cousin's hand rested on it. He gave alittle gasping sob and whispered:

"How near to the cabin now?"

"Less than half a mile, " I told him as I soothed my horse and permittedhim to pick his way around the dead. 

Once more we were off, but now Cousin ran behind, for the way was windingand narrow, and at places the overhanging boughs tried to brush me fromthe saddle. 

There was no need of glancing back to make sure my companion was keepingup, for his impatient voice repeatedly urged me to make greater speed. 

"If the cabin ain't standin' we've got to have 'nough of a lead to let uslose 'em in the woods, " he reminded. 

The path completed a détour of some tangled blackberry bushes and ended ina natural opening, well grassed. 

"There it is! The roof is partly burned!" I encouraged. 

"The walls stand. The door's in place. Faster!"

Across the opening we raced. From the woods behind arose a ferociousyelling. The Shawnee were confident they had driven us into a trap. Weflashed by two dead cows and some butchered hogs, and as yet I had notseen an Indian except the one masked in a bear's pelt. The cabin roof wasburned through at the front end. The door was partly open and uninjured. 

It was simple reasoning to reconstruct the tragedy even while we hastenedto shelter. The family had offered resistance, but had been thrown into apanic at the first danger from fire. Then it was quickly over. Doubtlessthere had been something of a parley with the usual promise of life ifthey came out. The fire crackled overhead, the victims opened the door. 

Cousin said they had been conducted to the main trace before beingslaughtered. As I leaped from my horse a fringe of savages broke fromcover and began shooting. Cousin dropped the foremost of them. I led thehorse inside the cabin and my companion closed and barred the door. 

The interior of the place mutely related the tragic story. It is thehomely background of a crime that accents the terrible. On the table wasthe breakfast of the family, scarcely touched. They had been surprisedwhen just about to eat. An overturned stool told how one of the men hadleaped to bar the door at the first alarm. I spied through a peephole butcould see nothing of our foes. A low cry from Cousin alarmed me. He wasovercome at the sight of a small apron. 

"I wish I'd stuck to the open, " he whispered. "The air o' this placechokes me. "

"If we can stand them off till night we can send the horse gallopingtoward the woods to draw their fire. Then we can run for it. "

"There won't be no darkness to-night, " morosely replied Cousin. "They'llmake big fires. They'll try to burn us out. We're well forted till theygit the roof blazin' ag'in. We'll 'low to stick here s'long we can. Theywon't dare to hang round too long. "

He took a big kettle from the fireplace and thrust it through the hole inthe roof. Bullets whistled overhead, with an occasional _whang_ as a pieceof lead hit the kettle and ricochetted. After the first volley the Indiansrefused to waste their ammunition, either realizing it was useless, orsuspecting the kettle was some kind of a trick. 

"I 'lowed they'd git tired, " muttered Cousin, sticking the top of his headinto the kettle and lifting the edge a crack so he could scrutinize theforest. After a minute of silence his muffed voice called down to me: "Hada notion that cow we passed nearest the woods was dead. Try a shot that'lljust graze the rump. "

I fired and a Shawnee began rolling toward the bushes. The iron kettlerattled to the ground, and young Cousin, with head and shoulders thrustthrough the roof, discharged both barrels of his rifle. The Indian stoppedrolling. I was amazed that Black Hoof's men had not instantly fired avolley. I exclaimed as much as he dropped to the floor. 

"Here she comes!" he cried as the lead began plunging into the thick logs. "If they keep it up we can dig quite a lot o' lead out the timbers. Ittook 'em by surprise to see me comin' through the roof, an' it surprised'em more to see two shoots comin' out of a gun that hadn't been reloaded. Mighty few double barrels out here. Huh! I 'low somethin' cur'ous is goin'to happen. "

I could discern nothing to warrant this prophecy. No Indians were to beseen. Cousin called my attention to the sound of their tomahawks. I hadheard it before he spoke, but I had been so intent in using my eyes that Ihad forgotten to interpret what my ears were trying to tell me. There wasnothing to do but wait. 

Cousin discovered the horse had drunk what water there had happened to bein the bucket, leaving us scarcely a drop. Half an hour of waiting seemedhalf a day; then something began emerging from the woods. It resolveditself into a barrier of green boughs, measuring some fifteen feet inlength and ten feet in height. 

Its approach was slow. The noise of the axes was explained. The Indianshad chopped saplings and had made a frame and filled it with boughs. Behind it was a number of warriors. About half-way across the clearingwere half a dozen long logs scattered about. 

"They're thinkin' to make them logs an' while hid by their boughs yank 'emtogether to make a breastwork. Then they'll pepper us while 'nother partyrushes in close. New party will pelt us while the first makes a run to gitag'in' the walls where we can't damage 'em from the loopholes. That BlackHoof is a devil for thinkin' up tricks. "

I fired at the green mass. Cousin rebuked me, saying:

"Don't waste lead. There's three braves with long poles to keep thecontraption from fallin' backward. They're on their feet, but keepin' lowas possible. There's t'others pushin' the bottom along. There's t'othershuggin' the ground. You'll notice the ends an' middle o' the top stick upright pert, but between the middle an' each end the boughs sort o' sagdown. If the middle pole can be put out o' business I 'low the weight ofit will make it cave in. Loaded? Then don't shoot less you seesomethin'. "

With this warning he fired at the middle of the screen, and the middlesupport developed a weakness, indicating he had wounded the poleman. Hefired again, and the whole affair began to collapse, and a dozen warriorswere uncovered. These raced for the woods, two of them dragging a woundedor dead man. 

For a few seconds I was incapable of moving a muscle. I was much like aboy trying to shoot his first buck. Or perhaps it was the very abundanceof targets that made me behave so foolishly. Cousin screamed in rage. Mybonds snapped, and I fired. If I scored a hit it was only to wound, fornone of the fleeing foe lessened their speed. "Awful poor fiddlin'!"groaned Cousin, eying me malevolently. 

"I don't know what was the matter with me. Something seemed to hold meparalyzed. Couldn't move a finger until you yelled. "

"Better luck next time, " he growled, his resentment passing away. 

He loaded and stood his rifle against the logs and began spying from therear of the cabin. Whenever he glanced at the apron his eyes would closefor a moment. No women had lived there. One of the Grisdols, the father ofthe two children, had brought it as a reminder of his dead wife. Cousin'sgreat fight was not against the red besiegers, but against his emotions. Iknew he was thinking of his sister. 

"Come here!" I sharply called. "They want a pow-wow. One's waving a greenbough. "

Cousin climbed to the hole in the roof, holding his rifle out of sight bythe muzzle. He yelled in Shawnee for the man to advance alone. The warriorstrode forward, the token of peace held high. So far as I could see he didnot have even a knife in his belt. Overhead Cousin's rifle cracked and theIndian went down with never a kick. 

"Good God! You've fired on a flag of truce, after agreeing to receive it!"I raged. 

He stood beside me, a crooked smile on his set face, his eyes gleamingwith triumph, his shapely head tilted to enjoy every note of the horribleanger now welling from the forest. "You fired----"

"I 'low I did, " he chuckled. Then with awful intentness, "But the folkswho lived here an' was happy didn't fire on the Injun fetchin' 'em abundle o' peace-talk. They believed the Injuns meant it. Do you reckon Itreated that dog any worse than the Shawnees treated my father and motherand little sister ten years ago? If you don't 'low that, just keep shet. When a Injun sends you a flag o' truce you want to tie your scalp down, orit'll blow off. "

The chorus of howls in the forest suddenly ceased, then were succeeded bysharp yelps of joy. Cousin stared at me in bewilderment. Darting to theback of the cabin, he peered through a chink. "Come here, " he softlycommanded. I joined him and took his place at the peephole. There was ahaze of smoke in the eastern sky. 

"That's why Black Hoof an' his men are hangin' round here, " he sighed. "Hesent a small band farther east. They've made a kill. That's a burnin' overthere. "

"That would be Edgely's cabin, " I decided. "But they moved back toDunlap's Creek three months ago. "

"Thank God for that!" he exclaimed. "But we'll have more Injuns round usmighty soon. I wish it was dark. "

"They've stopped their yowling. Look out for fresh deviltry!"

He nodded and walked to the front of the cabin. The horse neighed shrilly. The call was repeated in the forest. The Indians continued silent. I heardit first; that is to recognize it. For I had heard it the day before. Thevoice of a man shouting fretfully, much as an angry child complains. Cousin understood it when a whimpering note was added. 

"Baby Kirst!" he softly cried. "Black Hoof will 'low his medicine ismighty weak. Baby's out there an' in a bad frame o' mind. Somethin' isgoin' ag'in' the grain. It's good medicine for us that he wandered up thisway. "

I began sketching the happenings at Howard's Creek, but before I couldfinish the bushes on the hem of the woods were violently agitated and BabyKirst rode into the clearing, his horse in a lather. When he beheld thedead cows and hogs he yelled like a madman and plucked his heavy ax fromhis belt, and turned back to the woods. He disappeared with a crash, hishoarse voice shouting unintelligible things. 

"Now you can go, " quietly said Cousin as he unbarred the door. "Be keerfulo' the Injuns to the east. They'll be a small band. I 'low I'll follerKirst. If he don't drive 'em too fast there oughter be good huntin' forme. "

That night I rode into the Greenwood clearing on Dunlap's Creek withouthaving seen any Indians along the way. 

CHAPTER IV

I REPORT TO MY SUPERIORS

A night at the Greenwood cabin and I resumed my journey to Salem on theRoanoke. Near this hamlet lived Colonel Andrew Lewis, to whom I was toreport before carrying or forwarding Doctor Connolly's despatches toGovernor Dunmore. The trip was free from any incidents and seemedexceedingly tame after the stress of over-mountain travel. All thesettlers I talked with were very anxious to know the true conditions alongthe border. 

As I pressed on and found the cabins more thickly strewn along the variouswaters I was impressed by the belief of many that the Cherokees would jointhe Ohio tribes before the war ended. One would expect to find thisapprehension to be the keenest where the danger would be the greatest. Butnot so. Whenever I related how Isaac Crabtree had murdered Cherokee Billy, brother of the powerful Oconostota, the pessimists were positive that theCherokee nation would lay down a red path. 

Notwithstanding these natural fears the war remained popular withpractically all the men with whom I talked. Various companies were beingformed, and militia captains, to make sure of seeing active service, werenot punctilious as to where and by what means they secured their men. There was much ill-natured bickering over this rivalry, with severalmatters assuming such proportions that only Colonel Lewis could straightenthem out. 

The war was popular because the people realized a farther westernexpansion would be impossible until the Indians had been crowded back andfirmly held behind the Ohio. Anything short of a permanent elimination ofthe red menace was cried down. 

Much resentment was felt against the hotheads in Pennsylvania for openlyaccusing the Virginians of inciting the war to establish their landclaims. It was widely known that the Pennsylvania _Gazette_ had publishedcharges against Doctor Connolly to the effect that his agents, actingunder his orders, had fired on friendly Shawnees who were escorting whitetraders into Fort Pitt. Among these settlers east of the mountains thecommon complaint was about the scarcity of powder and lead. 

When within a few miles of my destination I came upon a group of settlerswho were gathered about a travel-stained stranger. For the first timesince leaving Dunlap's Creek I found myself of second importance. This manwas tanned by the weather to a deep copper color and wore a black clotharound his head in place of a cap. 

I halted on the edge of the group and waited for him to finish hisnarrative which must have been of lively interest if the rapt attention ofthe men and women was any gage. 

"--and using the ax I jumped over his body, got to the horse and rodeaway, " his deep voice concluded. He spoke with a palpable effort andalmost with a sing-song intonation. 

I dismounted and pressed forward, and told him:

"You talk like an Indian. "

"God's marcy, young sir!" cried an old dame. "An', please sweet grace, whyshouldn't he? Isn't he Johnny Ward, took by the Injums when a boy, an'just managed to scoot free of 'em?"

The man slowly looked me over, his face as immovable as any Shawneechief's. Then with the slightest of hesitation between each two words hecalmly informed me:

"Escaped as the white woman says. Named John Ward. Indian name, Red Arrow. Now I am back with my people. Now I am John Ward again. I talk bad. Italked with Indians most the time all these years. With my old friends Iwill grow to talk better. "

I congratulated him on his return to civilization. Many a man holding ahigh place in the colony's government and in the affection of the peoplehad been held in captivity; but few were the men who returned afterspending so many years with the Indians. In that respect Ward's case wasunusual. 

"Your talk sounds all right to us, " said one of the men. "Mayhap youl'arned some things about the red hellions that'll help our boys to give'em pepper. "

"I can lead you to their towns by the shortest trails. I can lead you totheir new towns that white men can not find quick, " he replied, after afew moments' pause, just as an Indian would wait before answering aquestion. 

Young Cousin flashed into my mind, and I asked:

"Do you know of a white woman--she would be nineteen years old now--namedCousin? She was captured by Shawnees at Keeney's Knob ten years ago. "

For half a minute I was doubtful if he understood my query. Then he shookhis head. I was disappointed as it seemed to be an excellent chance tolearn whether the girl be dead or alive. Still talking in his peculiar, halting way, he said:

"She, the white woman, was killed, probably. If not that she would betaken to Detroit and sold. Now married and living on a Canada farm, probably. Whites taken prisoners were not let to see each other. No whiteswere ever kept in the village where I lived. "

"What village were you kept in?"

"First in Lower Shawnee Town. Then in more towns. As I grew old they tookme to the towns farthest from the Ohio. Then came a time when I went whereI pleased, but they never took me on their war-paths south the Ohio. "

By this time the country folk began to remember that I, too, was anewcomer, and should have much information or gossip. They turned fromWard and plied me with questions. I briefly recited for the twentieth timesince leaving Dunlap's Creek the conditions west of the mountains. 

Detailed cross-examination brought forth the happenings at Howard's Creekand the murder of the four Grisdols, and the firing of the Edgely cabin. When I said that Black Hoof was in command of the Grisdol raiders myaudience displayed nervousness, and more than one glance was cast towardthe west. The effect on Ward was pronounced, also. Rising, he asked:

"Catahecassa led that path? I must be going. It was from his band Iescaped. His warriors followed me. I will go to the east before campingfor the night. "

"He'll never dare come east of the mountains!" loudly declared one of themen. 

Ward's face was inscrutable as he walked to his horse. As he vaulted intothe saddle he remarked:

"Black Hoof has a long arm. "

So it happened that John Ward, the returned captive, and I finished thedistance to Salem. Temptation assailed me as we reached the edge of thesettlement. I had planned all the time to finish my business with ColonelLewis at his home at Richfield. I had planned this even after learningfrom Mrs. Davis of the Dales' presence in Salem. 

Now, of a sudden, it seemed that I must hunt them up and look on Patriciaonce more. But Colonel Lewis was waiting for me. I had endured three yearswithout a glimpse of the girl; and leaving Ward to ride on and relate hisexperience to the Salem people I skirted the town and pressed on toRichfield. 

Arriving at the Lewis home I was informed by a colored man that thecolonel was not at the house, but somewhere about the grounds. 

"An' please goodness, massa, I's gwine to fotch him in two shakes of ahoun' dawg's tail, " he told me. 

I threw myself on the grass and waited. Either the servant's powers of"fotching" had been exaggerated, or else the colonel was quite indifferentto my arrival. Nearly an hour passed before my meditations wereinterrupted. 

This was not my first visit to Richfield to report to the colonel, but Ifelt no better acquainted at the last meeting than at the first. There wasa certain reserve in his manner which held folks at arm's length. Thisimpression of aloofness was increased by his personal appearance. His tallfigure and stern dark eyes made for austerity. 

In military affairs he was said to be overstrict in discipline; this fromthose who had served under him in former wars. Yet he stood very high inthe esteem of the county militia and his superiors. Perhaps his severemien was the natural result of a life filled with stormy experiences. Fromearly manhood he had been employed in fighting Indians. 

He was a captain of militia at the age of twenty-two. Twelve years laterhe was a major, serving under Colonel George Washington. He was seriouslywounded at Fort Necessity. He would have played a prominent part inBraddock's first and last Indian battle had he not been detailed tocomplete a chain of frontier forts. He was in the disastrous Sandy Creekexpedition the year following Braddock's defeat. 

In 1758 he was an officer under Forbes, and was one of those captured withGrant's detachment. He escaped the stake only to be held a prisoner inMontreal. Later he led a force against the Cherokees; and in Pontiac's Warhe commanded two hundred and fifty riflemen under Colonel Bouquet. Now hewas picked to command one of the two armies that Governor Dunmore proposedto send against the Indian towns above the Ohio. 

Among the Indians the name of Lewis stood very high. The natives knew thecolonel to be the son of that John Lewis who was long famed as an Indianfighter. It was commonly believed by red and white, and I have no reasonto doubt the truth of it, that it was John Lewis who introduced red cloverto America. 

Whether he did or did not, the Ohio Indians credited him with planting thefirst seed and said the color resulted from the blood of the red men hehad slain. William and Charles Lewis, the colonel's brothers, also werenoted border men. Charles undoubtedly ranked as high for courage andastuteness as any frontiersman in Virginia. 

The colored man at last turned the corner of the house. Behind him, andnot yet in sight, was the colonel, and he was not alone for I could hearhis grave voice addressing some companion. 

"De c'unel dat stubbo'n I jes' have to talk mighty plain 'fore I couldmake him pudge erlong, " proudly whispered the servant as he passed me. 

I sprang to my feet, and Colonel Lewis and His Excellency, John Murray, Earl of Dunmore, our royal governor, leisurely strolled into view. 

Colonel Lewis wore no wig and was smoking a pipe, of which he wasinordinately fond. It was characteristic of him to be more democratic andcareless in personal presentment when with his superiors than when meetingthe rough and ready people of the border. 

Nor was Governor Dunmore given to set forms. He was forty-two years of ageand in his prime, a man among men. He could be most democratic, and onthis day there was none of the town beau's fastidiousness in his dress. Yet his wig and his coat were a mode in themselves, while his shoe, kneeand stock buckles were of gold. Ultra-genteel young bucks would have hadsuch buckles set with brilliants, that they might twinkle and glitter atevery mincing step. 

His Excellency walked with a man's stride and gave the impression of beingcareless in dress, whereas, in fact, he always was perfect in his points. He dominated his attire and left you scarcely conscious of it. The two ofthem had been discussing something with great earnestness for as they drewnear me the colonel gestured with his pipe-stem, and His Excellency pushedback his wig and appeared inclined to disagree. 

"Lord, man! I tell you it's their cursed provincial jealousy. They malignthe man. "

"Your Excellency, I am not the judge, " Colonel Lewis calmly replied. "Isimply repeat what I hear, and suggest how it may be disastrous to thecampaign. "

"Jealousy and slander!" heatedly declared the governor. Then his livelygaze rested on me. He frowned, as if trying to remember, then smiled withthat graciousness he could so charmingly display when he deemed it worthwhile and said:

"I've been keeping you from your guest, Colonel. He looks brown and leanenough to have traveled far and to have brought a pretty earful. I knowthe face and ought to be calling him by name. "

Colonel Lewis advanced a few steps and bowed slightly, and refreshed thegovernor's recollection by saying:

"He is Basdel Morris, Your Excellency. Of Prince William Countyoriginally. Before Your Excellency came to Virginia he came out here toact as scout and messenger between us and Fort Pitt. "

"Fort Dunmore, " coldly corrected the governor, giving the name bestowed inhonor of his earldom. Then with a genial smile:

"I remember Mr. Morris distinctly. He has brought papers to me. I vow buthe should have a good budget of news. If we could retire to the shade andescape this cursed heat----"

"Inside, inside, " brusquely interrupted the colonel, and he waved usthrough the door with his pipe-stem. "We'll find it cool in there. "

And we did; and very pleasant too, and with many little comforts for thosewho wish to be indolent, such as foot-rests, and low tables for holdingdecanter and glasses and a sheaf of long pipes and some of Virginia'ssuperb tobacco. 

"No ceremony here, Mr. Morris. Sit down, man. We will play His Lordship istraveling in disguise. "

"Forsooth! He has that which we are hungry to receive! It's more fit weshould stand while he takes his ease, " gaily exclaimed His Excellency. Andhe removed his wig and mopped his cropped poll and sipped appreciativelyof the tall glass a soft-footed servant placed at his elbow. 

This was a most pleasing trait about His Excellency, and one which inhappier times should have endeared him even to people who have small usefor earls. He could make the young or diffident man feel more at home thancould the democratic and autocracy-hating Andrew Lewis. Nor was it anyaffectation; for we were soon to learn he could keep up with hardyborderers on long forest marches, and at that, proceed afoot and carry hisown blanket and equipment like any backwoods volunteer. 

Colonel Lewis shot a glance at me and then at the governor, and I verilybelieved his dark eyes were laughing at one of us. Surely not at me, for Iwas too insignificant. I obtained an inkling as to the cause of hiscynical amusement when he said:

"Young Mr. Morris, while not forest-bred, has lived long enough in thewoods as to make him blunt of tongue. Would Your Excellency prefer that hemake a verbal report to me and that I reduce it to writing for yourconsideration?"

"After what the Quakers have said I find my skin to be very thick exceptwhen it comes to something touching my personal honor, " coldly replied thegovernor. "Let the man tell what he will. We want the truth. "

Until this moment I had barely opened my mouth. Now I produced thedespatches committed to my care by Doctor Connolly. In presenting these toGovernor Dunmore I remained standing, waiting to be dismissed. 

His Excellency, however, made no move to open and read his despatches, butfell to staring at me speculatively. Finally he said:

"Let's have the personal side--the things you observed on your journeyback here. " And he motioned for me to be seated. 

I told them of Bald Eagle's murder, and His Excellency exhibited hotanger, and broke in on my recital long enough to exclaim:

"Curse their black hearts! I drove John Ryan out of the country formurdering on the Cheat, Ohio, and the Monongahela. I've had othersarrested, and their crazy neighbors have released them. I offer rewardsfor still others, and they come and go unmolested!"

"Yes, it's unfortunate that some of our border men are as murderous as theIndians, " quietly agreed Colonel Lewis. His Excellency subsided and noddedfor me to continue. 

I next spoke of young Shelby Cousin, and the colonel's eyes grew hard as Irelated the youth's lament over his little sister, and, in his behalf, urged that some effort be made to ascertain the girl's fate. The governorwrinkled his nose and brows in an effort to remember something. Then hesaid:

"I knew the name was familiar. I've sent word to Connolly to seek tracesof the girl through the different traders. The war has closed that line ofinquiry, I fear, as the traders have come in, or have been slaughtered. Very sad case. Very sad. The young man should go to England to begin lifeanew and learn to forget. I shall arrange it for him. "

"He would die before he would quit the woods, Your Excellency, " said thecolonel. "If he did consent and did go to England he would die ofhomesickness inside of ten days. Either that, or he would try to swimback. "

"Rather a poor opinion of England's charms, " remarked the governor. 

When I took up the general scarcity of powder and lead and described howhandicapped the settlers were by the lack of these vital necessities, itwas Colonel Lewis's turn to show the most feeling. 

His anger was almost passionate, and none the less impressive because heheld it in check. Staring wide-eyed at the governor he concluded hisoutburst by demanding:

"What about it, Your Excellency?"

"What about it? Why, that's something to ask of the House of Burgesses, wound all up in their red tape. His gracious Majesty suggested in'sixty-three that insomuch as the colonies implored England's aid againstthe French and Indians they should contribute something toward the cost oftheir defense in that war. Methinks they have taken the suggestion as anaffront. "

"The French War is ten years old. It was fought so that England might gainCanada. Virginia is still a royal province and her people need powder andlead, " the colonel replied. Perhaps he stressed "still" a bit. At leastthe governor's gaze dropped and concealed any impression he might havereceived. 

The governor drummed his fingers on the low liquor-stand, then lifted hishead and stated:

"This war will never be won by isolated groups of settlers fighting on thedefensive along the many creeks and rivers. The decisive blow will bestruck by the two armies soon to take the field. There will be plenty ofpowder for the men I lead and the men you are to lead. As to theback-country settlements, the House of Burgesses should have provided forthem. His Majesty is eager to aid all his subjects, but there's scantpolicy in serving our powder and balls to be husbanded along the westernslope of the Alleghanies and perhaps later used against England'ssoldiers. "

Colonel Lewis dropped his pipe and stared wrathfully at his noble guest. With an effort he restrained his temper and rejoined:

"The talk seems to touch upon some war other than that with the Ohiotribes. "

His Excellency at once was all smiles and graciousness. Leaning forwardand placing a hand on the colonel's knee, he earnestly declared:

"The conversation has wandered, foolishly on my part, I admit. I havelacked in tact, but the first fault I swear is due to the attitude of theBurgesses in neglecting to take proper measures for defending thefrontier. Before England can send sufficient supplies to Virginia this warwill have ended. There is plenty of powder at Williamsburg. Why doesn'tthe House of Burgesses send it to the border?"

"There is but a small store at the most, Your Excellency. "

"But why retain it when it is needed elsewhere?"

"That is hardly a question I can answer, " was the stiff reply. Then with aflash of heat:

"It's a shame! We repeatedly urge those families to stick, not to come offtheir creeks until they've laid by their corn and harvested their oats;and they are denied the simple means of defending their lives. Whether theBurgesses or the royal governor be at fault the fact remains that thesettlers pay in blood and anguish. "

"If there is any powder at Williamsburg or Norfolk that I can lay handsto, it shall go over the mountains. At least the royal governor will provehis hands are clean, " solemnly declared His Excellency. 

"I'll warrant that Pennsylvania has traded enough guns and powder to theShawnee and Mingos, " moodily observed the colonel. 

"There's too much talk in Williamsburg over peoples' rights, and notenough concern for peoples' lives, " declared His Excellency. "It would bea good thing if the House of Burgesses could be locked up in a fort andmade to repel an Indian attack. "

"Well, well, " sighed the colonel, "we'll never lick the Ohio tribes withproclamations and empty hands. "

"By gad, sir! We'll whip them with powder and lead! I've set myself to thetask of crushing the Indian power. It shall be done!"

They settled back and signaled for me to resume my narrative. When Imentioned Crabtree and the other killers both the governor and the colonelexpressed a wish that the Indians might catch them, or else scare themfrom the border. I closed my story by speaking of John Ward, the returnedcaptive. The military instinct of both my hearers was instantly aroused;for here was a source of inside information our spies could not hope toprovide. 

"Find that man and send him here, " ordered the governor. "But before yougo tell us something of conditions about Fort Dunmore. You seem to haveskipped that. "

This was what I had expected, and I did not relish the task. Had I beentalking alone with Colonel Lewis it would have been the first topic I hadtouched upon. 

"Your Excellency has Doctor Connolly's despatches. Doubtless they willgive you much more than I can, " I faltered. 

"There isn't any danger of your duplicating Doctor Connolly'sinformation, " said His Excellency sharply. 

"His Excellency desires to learn those odds and ends which wouldn't beincluded in an official report, but which may throw some light on thewhole situation, " added the colonel, his gaze resting on me veryinsistently. And somehow I knew he wanted me to talk, and to speakplainly. 

If I reported according to my sense of duty I feared I was in for anunpleasant experience with His Excellency. If I would ever receive anyfavors from him it would be because I kept my mouth shut and steered clearof dangerous ground. The situation at Pitt, however, had offended me; andnow that I must speak I grew reckless and decided to speak frankly. 

"Arthur St. Clair, representing the Pennsylvania proprietors, togetherwith other eminent men in that colony, publicly declared that YourExcellency is in partnership with Doctor Connolly in various land-deals, "I began. 

"Doctor Connolly has acted as my agent, just as his uncle, MichaelCroghan, has acted for Colonel George Washington, " easily remarked HisExcellency. 

"Croghan repudiates the acts of Connolly, " I said. 

Dunmore frowned and spoke wide of the mark when he said:

"What St. Clair and his friends see fit to believe scarcely constitutesfacts. But go on. "

"They also say that this war with the Shawnees is being hurried on for thepurpose of establishing our boundary-claims and making good our titles togrants under Virginia patents. "

"Scarcely news. They've been howling that ever since last April, " growledLewis. 

"I've been absent some months. I have no way of knowing what you've heard, or haven't heard. I'm afraid I have nothing new in the way of facts orgossip, " I said, and my face flushed. 

Governor Dunmore laughed softly and good-naturedly nodded for me tocontinue. I said:

"It is commonly believed in Pennsylvania that Connolly's circular letterto our frontier was meant to precipitate a war so that he might cover upthe costs of rebuilding Fort Pitt. It is said on all sides that thecommandant fears the House of Burgesses will repudiate his expenditureseven after Your Excellency has endorsed them--providing there is no war. "

The governor's face colored, but his voice was quiet as he said:

"Connolly may be a fool in many things, but he is right about the House ofBurgesses. There isn't any doubt as to their repudiating anything whichlooks like a benefit to our frontier. "

"Your Excellency, I can scarcely agree to that, " cut in Colonel Lewis. Itwas the second time their counter-views had struck out sparks. 

Both remained silent for half a minute, each, I have no doubt, controllingan impulse to explode. Relations between the colonies and Englandresembled an open powder-keg. With a bow that might indicate he desired toavoid a dangerous subject the governor shifted the conversation byremarking:

"After all, it doesn't matter what Pennsylvania thinks, so long as we knowher interests are hostile to Virginia's. I am governor of Virginia. I willserve her interests, and by gad! if the Quakers don't like our way theycan chew their thumbs. "

"We are one in that!" heartily cried the colonel. 

Governor Dunmore frowned down at his gold shoe-buckles and wearily said:

"They say I want war. But the Williamsburg paper has insisted on this warsince last March. Truth is, the border wants the war. And let me confessto you, Colonel Lewis, that the Earl of Dartmouth, as Secretary of Statefor the colonies, will express His Majesty's great displeasure to mebefore this war is over. 

"England does not want his campaign to go through. Taking the position Ihave means I will meet with disfavor and criticism at home. "

Turning to me, he querulously complained. 

"And it's you people along the border who make the war necessary. It's thehorrible massacres of harmless Indians that brought the trouble upon me. "

This was grossly untrue and I countered:

"Even Logan doesn't claim that. It's been give and take as to thekillings, with the Indians getting the better of it in scalps. A generalwar can result only from the Indians' belief that our settlers arecrossing the mountains to settle in the Kentucky country. "

"Ah! There you go! True to the dot, too!" he cried. "You Americans arerestless. You acquire no attachment to any place. Wandering about seems tobe engrafted in your natures. It's your great weakness that you shouldforever be thinking the lands farther off are better than those on whichyou're already settled. "

"But land-grants on the Ohio are worthless without settlers, " I meeklyreminded. Colonel Lewis indulged in a frosty smile. His Excellency eyed meshrewdly, and said:

"Of course the lands must be settled sometime. The trouble comes from thefrontier people's failure to understand that His Majesty's government hasany right to forbid backwoodsmen from taking over any Indian lands whichhappen to hit the fancy. 

"They have no idea of the permanent obligation of treaties which HisMajesty's government has made with the various Indian nations. Why, someof the frontier people feel so isolated from the colonies that they wishto set up democratic governments of their own. A pretty kettle of fish!Then such creatures as this Crabtree murder such men as the brother of thepowerful Cherokee chief. More trouble for the border. 

"I shall offer a reward of a hundred pounds for Crabtree's arrest. If heis arrested the border men will release him. And yet they demand that HisMajesty supply them with powder to defend their homes. Good God! Whatinconsistency! And as if we did not have enough trouble inside our colonythere is Mr. Penn, to the north. As proprietary governor he sullies thedignity of his communications to the House of Representatives by makingthe same a conveyance of falsehood, thereby creating trouble betweenPennsylvania and Virginia. 

"He is even now trying to make my Lord Dartmouth believe that my zeal incarrying on this war is not through any sense of duty to my king, butbecause of a desire for personal emoluments. If he can make the people ofVirginia believe that, then I am helpless. " Certainly this defense of hismotives was not meant to convert me. My ideas worried His Excellency none. He was testing Colonel Lewis, whose reserve made the broaching of delicatesubjects very much of a difficulty. The colonel quickly declared:

"Your Excellency knows that I thoroughly understand the true bias ofPennsylvania. We are with you in this war heart and soul. But I do think, to put it mildly, that Doctor Connolly has been indiscreet. "

He had come back to the one phase of the conversation which interestedhim. The governor hesitated a moment, then asked me:

"What is your personal opinion of Doctor Connolly? Speak freely. "

"I consider him to be a very ambitious, intriguing man, and very much of afire-eater. "

Both the gentlemen smiled, His Excellency being less genuine than thecolonel. "To be an ambitious fire-eater is not a bad quality in thesetimes, " said the governor. "As to intrigue, so long as it is for VirginiaI will not condemn it too strongly. What other charges are there in yourarraignment?"

"I do not arraign him, " I retorted. Believing I had gone too far ever toretrieve myself in the governor's good graces, and being made angry by thethought, I boldly continued: "Connolly is too autocratic. He carriesthings with too high a hand. He takes measures which neither YourExcellency, nor any other of His Majesty's governors would dream ofindulging in. He arrests and imprisons citizens without any pretense atlegal procedure. It is because of such actions that many in Pennsylvaniaexpressed the wish we might lose the war. I will add that I heard no suchexpressions of ill-will since the white families were murdered along theMonongahela. "

"It does make a difference as to whose ox is being gored, " grimlycommented Colonel Lewis. 

"Does Pennsylvania still blame Michael Cresap for the death of Logan'speople?" asked the governor. 

"Many of them do, because Connolly reduced him in rank. His reinstatementat Your Excellency's command is not so generally known. "

"Confusion and bickering!" wrathfully exclaimed the governor. "Virginiademanding a decisive war--England opposed to it. Our militia captainsstealing each other's men--Sir William Johnson's death is most untimely. "

Sir William Johnson dead! For the moment I was stunned. My facialexpression was so pronounced that His Excellency kindly added:

"The sad news has just reached us. Never was he needed more and wantedmore. The colonies have been so used to having him hold the Iroquois incheck that few have paused to picture what might happen if his influencewere removed from the Six Nations. "

He rose and paced the room for a few turns. Then with a short bow to me headdressed the colonel, saying:

"With your permission, Colonel, I believe I shall retire for an hour. Whenthe man Ward comes I wish to question him. "

"By all means, Your Excellency, take a bit of rest. I shall call you ifthe fellow comes. "

I turned to go and the colonel walked with me to the door, urging me toreturn and remain his guest that night. I thanked him, explaining anacceptance of his kind offer would depend on circumstances. He walked withme to my horse and with a side-glance at the house softly inquired:

"What do the people over the mountains and in Pennsylvania say about theQuebec Bill now before Parliament?"

"I do not remember hearing it mentioned. I do not think any of thesettlers are interested in it. "

"Not interested!" he groaned. "And if it is approved[3] by Parliament theAmerican colonies will be robbed of hundreds of thousands of square milesof territory. They will lose the lands which already have been given themin their own charters. Think of Virginia and Pennsylvania quarreling overthe junction of two rivers when we stand fair to lose all the country westof the Alleghanies. Young man, there's going to be war. " This was verysoftly spoken. 

"We're in it now, " I stupidly replied. 

"I am speaking of war with England, " he whispered. 

I could scarcely accept it as being a true prophecy. I was not disturbedby it. The quarreling between colonies and the mother-country was an oldstory. Hiding my skepticism I asked, "When will it begin?"

"It began in 1763, when the English Ministry decided to collect revenuesfrom the colonies, " was the quiet reply. "It will soon be open war. Iverily believe I am entertaining in my humble home to-day the last royalgovernor of Virginia. "

-----

 [3] The Quebec Bill, to take effect in 1775, was approved June 22, 1774, or before Colonel Lewis and Morris had their conversation. 

CHAPTER V

LOVE COMES A CROPPER

"I am speaking of a war with England. " These words of Colonel Lewis rangin my ears as I rode to Salem. They had sounded fantastic when he utteredthem. Now that I was alone they repeated themselves most ominously. Theflying hoofs of my horse pounded them into my ears. War with England wasunthinkable, and yet the colonel's speech lifted me up to a dreary heightand I was gazing over into a new and very grim world. 

For years, from my first connected thoughts, there had been dissensionafter dissension between England and America. My father before me hadlived through similar disputes. But why talk of war now? Many times thecolonies had boiled over a bit; then some concession was made, and whatour orators had declared to be a crisis died out and became a dead issue. 

To be sure another "crisis" always took the place of the defunct one, butthe great fact remained that none of those situations had led to war. Perhaps if some one other than Colonel Lewis had indulged in the direforeboding it would have made less of an impression. At the time he spokethe words I had not been disturbed. Now that I was remembering what anunemotional level-headed man he was the effect became accumulative. Thefarther I left Richfield behind and the longer I mulled over his sinisterstatement the more I worried. 

As I neared Salem my meditations continued disquieting and yet were highlypleasing. I was on my way to meet Patricia Dale. I was born on theMattapony and left an orphan at an early age. I had gone to Williamsburgwhen turning sixteen, and soon learned to love and wear gold and silverbuckles on a pewter income. 

In my innocence, rather ignorance, I unwittingly allowed my townacquaintances to believe me to be a chap of means. When I discovered theirfalse estimate I did not have the courage to disillusion them. My truespending-pace was struck on my eighteenth birthday, and inside the year Ihad wasted my King William County patrimony. 

Just what process of reasoning I followed during that foolish year I havenever been able to determine. I must have believed it to be imperativethat I live up to the expectations of my new friends. As a complement tothis idiotic obsession there must have been a grotesque belief thatsomehow, by accident or miracle, I would be kept in funds indefinitely. Ido recall my amazement at the abrupt ending of my dreams. I woke up onemorning to discover I had no money, no assets. There were no odds andends, even, of wreckage which I could salvage for one more week of the oldlife. 

Among my first friends had been Ericus Dale and his daughter, Patricia. Toher intimates she was known as Patsy. As was to be expected when anawkward boy meets a dainty and wonderful maid, I fell in love completelyout of sight. At nineteen I observed that the girl, eighteen, was becominga toast among men much older and very, very much more sophisticated thanI. 

She was often spoken of as the belle of Charles City County, and I spentmuch time vainly wishing she was less attractive. Her father, engaged inthe Indian-trade, and often away from home for several months at a time, had seemed to be very kindly disposed to me. 

I instinctively hurried to the Dales to impart the astounding fact that Iwas bankrupt. One usually speaks of financial reverses as "crashing about"one's head. My wind-up did not even possess that poor dignity; for therewas not enough left even to rattle, let alone crash. 

The youth who rode so desperately to the Dale home that wonderful daytragically to proclaim his plight, followed by fervid vows to go away andmake a new fortune, has long since won my sympathy. I have always resentedEricus Dale's attitude toward that youth on learning he was a pauper. Itis bad enough to confess to a girl that one has not enough to marry on;but it is hell to be compelled to add that one has not enough to woo on. 

How it wrung my heart to tell her I was an impostor, that I was going tothe back-country and begin life all over. Poor young devil! How many likeme have solemnly declared their intentions to begin all over, whereas, infact, they never had begun at all. 

And why does youth in such juvenile cataclysms feel forced to seek newfields in making the fresh start? Shame for having failed, I suppose. Anunwillingness to toe the scratch under the handicap of having hisneighbors know it is his second trial. 

But so much had happened since that epochal day back in Williamsburg thatit seemed our parting had been fully a million years ago. It made me smileto remember how mature Patsy had been when I meekly ran her errands andgladly wore her yoke in the old days. 

Three years of surveying, scouting and despatch-bearing through thetrackless wilderness had aged me. I prided myself I was an old man inworldly wisdom. Patsy Dale had only added three years to her young life. Icould even feel much at ease in meeting Ericus Dale. And yet there hadbeen no day during my absence that I did not think of her, stillidealizing her, and finding her fragrant memory an anodyne when sufferingin the wilderness. 

The sun was casting its longest shadows as I inquired for the house androde to it. If my heart went pit-a-pat when I dismounted and walked to theveranda it must have been because of anticipation. As I was about to rapon the casing of the open door I heard a deep voice exclaim:

"This country's going to the dogs! We need the regulars over here. Usingvolunteers weakens a country. Volunteers are too damned independent. They'll soon get the notion they're running things over here. Put me incharge of Virginia, and I'd make some changes. I'd begin with Dunmore andwind up with the backwoodsmen. Neither Whigs nor Tories can save thiscountry. It's trade we want, trade with the Indians. "

I could not hear that any one was answering him, and after a decentinterval I rapped again. At last I heard a slow heavy step approachingfrom the cool twilight of the living-room. 

"Aye? You have business with me, my man?" demanded Dale, staring into myface without appearing to recognize me. He had changed none that I couldperceive. Short, square as though chopped out of an oak log. His dark hairstill kinked a bit and suggested great virility. His thick lips werepursed as of old, and the bushy brows, projecting nearly an inch from thedeep-set eyes, perhaps had a bit more gray in them than they showed threeyears back. 

"Ericus Dale, you naturally have forgotten me, " I began. "I am BasdelMorris. I knew you and your daughter three years ago in Williamsburg. "

"Oh, young Morris, eh? I'm better at remembering Indian faces than white. Among 'em so much. So you're young Morris, who made a fool of himselftrying to be gentry. Sit down. Turned to forest-running, I should say. "And he advanced to the edge of the veranda and seated himself. He had notbothered to shake hands. 

"I had business with Colonel Lewis and I wished to see you and Patsybefore going back, " I explained. I had looked for bluntness in hisgreeting, but I had expected to be invited inside the house. 

"Pat's out, " he mumbled, his keen gaze roaming up and down my forest garb. "But she'll be back. Morris, you don't seem to have made much of a hit atprosperity since coming out this way. "

"I'm dependent only on myself, " I told him. "Personal appearance doesn'tgo for much when you're in the woods. "

"Ain't it the truth?" he agreed. "In trade?"

"Carrying despatches between Fort Pitt and Governor Dunmore just now. Surveying before that. "

"Then, by Harry, sir! You could be in better business, " he snapped. "Whatwith Dunmore at the top, and thieving, land-grabbing settlers at thebottom, this country is going to the devil! Dunmore cooks up a war to makea profit out of his land-jobbing! Settlers quit good lands on this sidethe mountains to go land-stealing in the Kentucky country and north of theOhio. It riles my blood! I say you could be in better business thanhelping along the schemes of Dunmore and that trained skunk of his, JackConnolly. "

I smiled pleasantly, beginning to remember that Ericus Dale was always afreely spoken man. 

"Do you mean that there is no need of this war? You say it is cooked up. "

"Need of war?" he wrathfully repeated. "In God's mercy why should we havewar with the Indians? All they ask is to be let alone! Ever see a singlepiaster of profit made out of a dead Indian unless you could sell hishair? Of course not. The Indians don't want war. What they want is trade. I've lived among 'em. I know. It's Dunmore and the border scum who wantwar. They want to steal more land. "

I had no wish to quarrel with the man, but I, too, had been among theIndians; and I could not in decency to myself allow his ridiculousstatements to go unchallenged. 

"How can the country expand unless the settlers have land? And if theIndians block the trail how can we get the land without fighting for it?Surely it was never intended that five or more square miles of the fairestcountry on earth should be devoted to keeping alive one naked redhunter. "

He fairly roared in disgust. Then with an effort to be calm he began:

"Land? Settlers? You can't build a profit on land and settlers. Why, thecolonies already refuse to pay any revenue to England. Line both sides ofthe Ohio with log cabins and stick a white family in each and what gooddoes it do? Did the French try to settle Canada? No! The French weren'tfools. They depended on trade. "

"But they lost Canada, " I reminded. 

"Bah! For a purely military reason. The future of this country is trade. England's greatness is built up on trade. " His trick of jumping his voiceon that word "trade" was very offensive to the ears. 

"Pennsylvania has the right idea. Pennsylvania is prosperous. Pennsylvaniadoesn't go round chopping down bee-trees and then killing the bees to getthe honey. What good is this land over here if you can't get fur from it?Settlers chop down the timber, burn it, raise measly patches of corn, livehalf-starved, die. That's all. "

His crazy tirade nettled me. It was obvious I could not keep in his goodbooks, even with Patricia as the incentive, without losing myself-respect. I told him:

"This country can never develop without settled homes. We're buildingrudely now, but a hundred years from now----"

"Yah!" And his disgust burst through the thick lips in a deep howl. "Whoof us will be alive a hundred years from now? Were we put on earth toslave and make fortunes for fools not yet born? Did any fools work andsave up so we could take life soft and easy? You make me sick!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dale, to hear you say that. However, the war is here----"

"The war may be here, in Virginia, among the backwoodsmen. It is also inDunmore's heart, but it ain't in the hearts of the Indians, " hepassionately contradicted. "The Indians only ask to be let alone, to beallowed to trade with us. Some canting hypocrites are whining for us tocivilize the Indians. Why should they be civilized? Do they want to be?Ever hear of Indians making a profit out of our civilization? Did theConestoga Indians make a profit when they tried to live like the whitesnear Lancaster, and the Paxton boys killed fourteen of them, men, womenand children, then broke into the Lancaster jail where the others had beenplaced for their safety, and butchered the rest of them?

"Did the ancient Virginia Indians prosper by civilization? I reckon if theold Powhatans could return they'd have some mighty warm things to say onthat score. Why shouldn't the Indians insist we live as they do? They werehere first. The only way to help the Indian is to trade with him. And whenyou help him that way you're helping yourself. That's the only point youcan ever make a red man see. 

"I know the Indians. I can go into their towns now, be they Cherokee, Mingo, Shawnee or Delaware, and they'll welcome me as a brother. They knowI don't want their land. They know I'm their true friend. They want me tomake a profit when I trade with them, so I'll come again with more rum andblankets and guns, and gay cloth for their women. "

"You have the trader's point of view, and very naturally so, " I said. 

"Thank God I ain't got the land-grabber's point of view! Nor the cantinghypocrite's point of view! Nor a thick-headed forest-runner's point ofview!" he loudly stormed, rising to end the discussion. 

But I was not to be balked, and I reminded him:

"I called to pay my respects to Mistress Dale. I hope I may have thepleasure. "

"She's in the field back of the house. I'll call her, " he grumbled. "Ihave a man in my kitchen, a white man, who has lived with the Indians eversince he was a boy. He knows more about them than all you border-folkscould learn in a million years. He's the most sensible white man I evermet. He agrees with me perfectly that trade is what the Indian wants; notsettlers nor Bibles. "

"Your guest would be John Ward!" I exclaimed, remembering the governor'serrand. "I was asked by Colonel Lewis to find him and send him toRichfield. The colonel and Governor Dunmore wish to talk with him. "

"Ho! Ho! That's the way the cat jumps, eh? Want to milk him for militaryinformation, eh? Well, I reckon I'll go along with him and see they don'tplay no tricks on him. I've taken a strong liking to Ward. He's the onewhite man that's got my point of view. "

"He lived with the Indians so long he may have the Indians' point ofview, " I warned. 

"The sooner white men learn the Indians' point of view the better it'll befor both white and red. Ward knows the Indians well enough to know I'mtheir friend. He knows I'm more'n welcome in any of their towns. I'm goingto carry a talk to Cornstalk and Black Hoof. If I can't stop this war Ican fix it so's there'll never be any doubt who's to blame for it. "

"I tell you, Dale, that no white men, except it be Ward or Tavenor Rossand others like them, are safe for a minute with Logan's Cayugas, Cornstalk's Shawnees, Red Hawk's Delawares, or Chiyawee's Wyandots. "

"Three years ain't even made a tomahawk improvement on you, " he sneered. "You mean to tell me that after all my years of friendship with theIndians I won't be safe among them, or that any friends I take along won'tbe safe among them? You talk worse'n a fool! I can send my girl alone intothe Scioto villages, and once she gives belts from me she will be as safeas she would be in Williamsburg or Norfolk. "

"Such talk is madness, " I cried. "The one message your cousin, PatrickDavis' wife, on Howard's Creek, asked me to deliver to your daughter isfor her not to cross the mountains until the Indian trouble is over. "

"An old biddy whose husband is scared at every Indian he sees because heknows he's squatting on their lands. My cousin may not be safe on Howard'sCreek, but my daughter would be. I'll say more; once the Indians know I amat Howard's Creek, they'll spare that settlement. "

It was useless to argue with the man. It was almost impossible to believethat he meant his vaporings for seriousness. With a scowl he walked to therear of the house and entered the kitchen. All the windows were open, andhis voice was deep and heavy. I heard him say:

"Ward, I want you. We're going to have a talk with two white men, whodon't understand Indians. Pat, that young cub of a forest-running Morrisis out front. Hankers to see you, I 'low. "

My leather face was still on fire when I heard the soft swish of skirts. Then she stood before me, more beautiful than even my forest-dreaming hadpictured her, more desirable than ever. She courtesied low, and theamazing mass of blue-black hair seemed an over-heavy burden for the slimwhite neck to carry. 

She smiled on me and I found my years dropping away like the leaves of themaple after its first mad dance to the tune of the autumn's wind. I feltfully as young as when I saw her in Williamsburg. And time had placed adistance other than that of years between us: it had destroyed the oldfamiliarity. 

To my astonishment we were meeting as casual acquaintances, much as if achin-high barrier was between us. It was nothing like that I had pictured. I had supposed we would pick up the cordiality at the first exchange ofglances. I stuck out my hand and she placed her hand in it for a moment. 

"Basdel, I would scarcely have known you. Taller and thinner. And you'revery dark. "

"Wind and weather, " I replied. "It was at Howard's Creek I learned youwere here. I was very anxious to see you. "

"Don't stand. " And she seated herself and I took a chair opposite her. "Sonice of you to have us in mind. It's some three years since. "

"I reckon your father doesn't fancy me much. "

"He's displeased with you about something, " she readily agreed. "Youmustn't mind what he says. He's excitable. "

"If I minded it I've forgotten it now, " I told her. I now had time to notethe cool creamy whiteness of her arms and throat and to be properlyamazed. She had been as sweet and fresh three years before, but I was usedto town maids then, and accepted their charms as I did the sunshine andspring flowers. But for three years I had seen only frontier women, andweather and worry and hard work had made sad work of delicatecomplexions. 

"Now tell me about yourself, " she commanded. 

There was not much to tell; surveying, scouting, despatch-bearing. When Ifinished my brief recital she made a funny little grimace, too whimsicalto disturb me, and we both laughed. Then quite seriously she reminded me:

"But, Basdel, your last words were that you were to make a man ofyourself. "

In this one sentence she tagged my forest work as being valueless. Had Ibeen the boy who rode through the May sunshine frantically to announce hispoverty, I might have accepted her verdict as a just sentence. Now therewas a calculating light in her dark blue eyes that put me on my mettle. She was throwing down a red ax. 

"I am self-dependent, " I said. "I never was that in Williamsburg. I haverisked much. Before crossing the mountains, I did not dare risk even yourdispleasure. I have done things that men on the frontier think well of. When you knew me back East I only succeeded in making a fool of myself. The carrying of despatches between Fort Pitt and Botetourt County isconsidered to be rather important. "

"But, please mercy, there's more important things for young men to do thanthese you've mentioned, " she softly rebuked. 

"If the work of surveying lands for homes and settlements, if the scoutingof wild country to protect settlements already established, if keeping aline of communication open between the Ohio and the James are notimportant tasks, then tell me what are?" I demanded. 

She was displeased at my show of heat. 

"There's no call for your defending to me your work over the mountains, "she coldly reminded. "As an old friend I was interested in you. "

"But tell me what you would consider to have been more important work, " Ipersisted. "I honestly believed I was working into your good opinion. Ibelieved that once you knew how seriously I was taking life, you would beglad of me. "

"Poor Basdel, " she soothed. "I mustn't scold you. "

"Pitying me is worse, " I corrected. "If you can't understand a man doing aman's work at least withhold your sympathy. I am proud of the work I havedone. "

This ended her softer mood. 

"You do right to think well of your work, " she sweetly agreed. "But thereare men who also take pride in being leaders of affairs, of holding officeand the like. "

"And going into trade, " I was rash enough to suggest. 

With a stare that strongly reminded me of her father she slowly said:

"In trade? Why not? Trade is most honorable. The world is built up ontrade. Men in trade usually have means. They have comfortable homes. Theycan give advantages to those dependent upon them. Trade? Why, the averagewoman would prefer a trader to the wanderer, who owns only his rifle andwhat game he shoots. "

"Patsy, that is downright savagery, " I warmly accused. "Come, be your oldself. We used to be mighty good friends three years ago. Be honest withme. Didn't you like me back in Williamsburg?"

The pink of her cheeks deepened, but she quietly countered:

"Why, Basdel, I like you now. If I didn't I never would bother to speakplainly to you. "

Three years' picture-painting was turning out to be dream-stuff. I triedto tell myself I was foolish to love one so much like Ericus Dale; but thelure was there and I could no more resist it than a bear can keep awayfrom a honey-tree. 

She had shown herself to be contemptuous in reviewing the little I haddone. She was blind to the glory of to-morrow and more than filled withabsurd crotchets, and yet there was but one woman in America who couldmake my heart run away from control. If it couldn't be Patsy Dale it couldbe no one. 

"Back in Williamsburg, before I made such a mess of my affairs, you knew Iloved you. "

"We were children--almost. "

"But I've felt the same about you these three years. I've looked ahead toseeing you. I've--well, Patsy, you can guess how I feel. Do I carry anyhope with me when I go back to the forest?"

The color faded from her face and her eyes were almost wistful as she metmy gaze unflinchingly, and gently asked:

"Basdel, is it fair for a man going back to the forest to carry hope withhim? The man goes once and is gone three years. What if he goes a secondtime and is gone another three years? And then what if he comes back, rifle in hand, and that's all? What has he to offer her? A home in thewilderness? But what if she has always lived in town and isn't used tothat sort of life?"

"But if she loves the man----"

"But what if she believes she doesn't love him quite enough to take himand his rifle and live in the woods? Has he any more right to expect thatsacrifice than she has the right to expect him to leave the forest andrifle and make his home where she always has lived?"

"I suppose not. But I, too, like the scenes and things you like. I don'tintend spending all my life fighting Indians and living in the forest. "

"If your absence meant something definite, " she sighed. 

"Meaning if I were in trade, " I bitterly said. 

The kindly mood was gone. She defiantly exclaimed:

"And why not? Trade is honorable. It gets one somewhere. It has hardshipsbut it brings rewards. You come to me with your rifle. You talk sentiment. I listen because we were fond of each other in a boy-and-girl way. Wemustn't talk this way any more. You always have my best wishes, but Inever would make a frontier woman. I like the softer side of life toomuch. "

"Then you will not wait? Will not give me any hope?"

"Wait for what? Another three years; and you coming back with your longrifle and horse. Is that fair to ask any woman?"

"No. Not when the woman questions the fairness. 'Another three years' areyour words, not mine. I shall see this war through, and then turn selfish. What I have done is good for me. It will serve to build on. "

"I'm sure of it, " she agreed. "And you always have my best--my bestwishes. "

"And down in your heart you dare care some, or you wouldn't talk it overwith me, " I insisted. 

"We liked each other as boy and girl. Perhaps our talk is what I believe Iowe to that friendship. Now tell me something about our backwoodssettlements. "

In story-writing the lover should, or usually does, fling himself off thescene when his attempt at love-making is thwarted. Not so in life withPatsy. I believed she cared for me, or would care for me if I could onlymeasure up to the standard provided for her by her father's influence. 

So instead of running away I remained and tried to give her a truthfulpicture of border conditions. She understood my words but she could notvisualize what the cabins stood for. They were so many humble habitations, undesirable for the town-bred to dwell in, rather than the symbols ofmany, happy American homes. She pretended to see when she was blind, buther nods and bright glances deceived me none. She had no inkling of what afrontier woman must contend with every day, and could she have glimpsedthe stern life, even in spots, it would be to draw back in disgust at thehardships involved. 

So I omitted all descriptions of how the newly married were provided withhomes by a few hours' work on the part of the neighbors, how the simplefurniture was quickly fashioned from slabs and sections of logs, how a fewpewter dishes and the husband's rifle constituted the happy couple'sworldly possessions. She wished to be nice to me, I could see. She wishedto send me away with amiable thoughts. 

"It sounds very interesting, " she said. "Father must take me over themountains before we return to town. "

"Do not ask him to do that, " I cried. And I repeated the message sent byMrs. Davis. 

She was the one person who always had her own way with Ericus Dale. Shesmiled tolerantly and scoffed:

"Father's cousin sees danger where there isn't any. No Indian would everbother me once he know I was my father's daughter. "

"Patsy Dale, " I declared in my desperation. "I've loved you from the day Ifirst saw you. I love you now. It's all over between us because you haveended it. But do not for your own sake cross the mountains until theIndian danger is ended. Howard's Creek is the last place you should visit. Why, even this side of the creek I had to fight for my life. The Indianshad murdered a family of four, two of them children. "

She gave a little shudder but would not surrender her confidence in herfather. 

"One would think I intended going alone. I know the Indians are killingwhite folks, and are being killed by white folks. But with my fatherbeside me----"

"If you love your father keep him on this side of the Alleghanies!"

"You will make me angry, Basdel. I don't want to be displeased with you. My father has known the Indians for years. He has warm friends in everytribe. He is as safe among them as he is here in Salem. And if Howard'sCreek is in danger he can request the Indians to keep away from it. "

"Good God! Are you as blind as all that?" I groaned. 

"Forest-running, Basdel, has made you violent and rough in your talk, " sheicily rebuked. "You hate the Indians simply because you do not understandthem. Now I'm positive that the best thing for you to do is to keep awayfrom the frontier and see if you can't start right on this side of themountains. "

It would be folly to argue with her longer. I fished a pair of moccasins, absurdly small, from the breast of my hunting-shirt and placed them on thetable. I had bought them from a squaw in White Eyes' village, and theywere lavishly embroidered with gay beads. The squaw had laughed when Itold the size I wanted. 

"If you will forget these came from the forest and will let me leave them, I shall be pleased, " I said. "If you don't care for them, just chuck themaside. I had to guess at the size. "

"Oh, they are beautiful, " she softly exclaimed, snatching them from thetable. "Basdel, why not stay on this side of the mountains? You're a veryclever young man if you would only give yourself a chance. Very soon youcould go to the House of Burgesses. If you don't care to go into trade youcould speculate in land. Father is against it, but if it will be done, youmight as well do it as to leave the cream for others. "

"Even if I wished to stay, I could not, " I replied. "I have much to doover there. Unfinished work. I have promised Colonel Lewis to carrydespatches when not scouting. If they can send some one to Fort Pitt in myplace I shall serve as scout in the Clinch River Valley. The people downthere are badly upset. "

"Well, giving yourself for others may be very Christian-like. One mustdecide for one's self, " she said. 

"The people over there help one another. They stand together. If I canhelp them, I shall be helping myself. "

"I wish my father could go there and make them see how silly they are, "she impatiently declared. "If they would only be friendly with theIndians! It is so simple----"

"I know a fellow about your age, " I broke in. "The Indians killed hispeople on Keeney's Knob ten years ago and stole his little sister. Hedoesn't know whether she is dead or a captive. His folks were friendly. They were butchered after making a feast for Cornstalk and his warriors. There are many such cases. It would do no good for your father to tellyoung Cousin and others, who happened to survive, that they are silly. "

"Do you mean they would resent it?" she demanded, her chin going up in avery regal manner. 

"He could scarcely change their opinions, " I mumbled. 

We were interrupted by a colored woman bustling in with Colonel Lewis'servant in tow. The man bowed profoundly before Patsy and then informedme:

"Please, Massa Morris, de c'unel 'mires fo' to see yo' at de house righterway. I 'spects it's business fo' de gun'ner. De c'unel mos' 'tic'lar datsay he wants to see yo' to once. Yas, sah. Please, sah. "

I dismissed him with a word of my immediate attendance on the colonel. Then I gave my hand to Patsy and said:

"This ends it then. Patsy, my thoughts of you have helped me out of manytight places. "

"If you'd only be sensible, Basdel, and stay back here where you belong. Just say the word and father will place you in his office. I'm sure ofit. "

"So am I sure of it, if you asked it. No, Patsy, it can't be that way. Ithank you. I may be an awful failure, but I can always fool myself withhoping for better things. If I was pushed into trade, that would end me. "

"Of course you know your limitations better than I do, " she coldly said. "Thanks for the pretty moccasins. I may have a chance to wear them soon. "

"Do not wear them over the mountains, " I begged. "You were never meant forthe frontier. Good-by. "

I had mounted my horse and was galloping back to Richfield almost before Ihad realized how definitely I had separated from her. There was so much Ihad intended to say. My thoughts grew very bitter as I repeatedly livedover our short and unsatisfactory meeting. I recalled patches of thebright dreams filling my poor noodle when I was riding to meet her, and Ismiled in derision at myself. 

I had carried her in my heart for three years, and because daily I hadpaid my devotion to her I had been imbecile enough to imagine she wasthinking of me in some such persistent way. Patsy Dale was admired by manymen. Her days had been filled with compliments and flattery. 

My face burned as though a whip had been laid across it when I recalledher frank skepticism of my ability to support a wife. I had a rifle. Several times she had thrust that ironical reminder at me, which meant Ihad nothing else. I came to her carrying my rifle. It was unfair to tie agirl with a promise when the wooer had only his rifle. 

The damnable repetition kept crawling through my mind. She wanted toimpress the fact of my poverty upon me. I worked up quite a fine bit ofanger against Patsy. I even told myself that had I come back with profitsderived from peddling rum to the Indians, I might have found her moresusceptible to my approach. Altogether I made rather a wicked game ofviewing the poor girl in an unsavory light. 

With a final effort I declared half-aloud that she was not worth a seriousman's devotion. And it got me nowhere. For after all, the remembrance ofher as she stood there, with her slim white neck and the mass ofblue-black hair towering above the upturned face, told me she must everfill my thoughts. 

I reached Richfield early in the evening. Governor Dunmore had retiredagainst an early start for Williamsburg. It was Colonel Lewis' wish that Iride without delay to Charles Lewis' place at Staunton, something betterthan eighty miles, and confer with him over the situation on thefrontier. 

"My brother has recently received intelligences from Fort Pitt which statethe Indians are anxious for peace, " explained the colonel. 

"A parcel of lies, " I promptly denounced. 

"So say I. But the written statements are very plausible. They have madean impression on Charles. It is very important that he know the truth. Itwill be much better for you to talk with him than for me to try to sendhim your statements in writing. Haste is necessary. Leave your horse andtake one of mine. "

"Have your man bring out the horse. I will start now. "

"A prompt response, " he said. "And most pleasing. But to-morrow early willdo. Spend the night here. "

"To-night. Now, " I insisted. "I need action. "

He gave me a sharp glance, then called his man and gave the order. Whilemy saddle was being shifted he informed me:

"Ericus Dale and John Ward paid us a call. Dale and His Excellency had arare bout of words. The fellow Ward didn't say much, but he agreed toeverything Dale said. "

"I know about the way Dale talked, " I gloomily said. "I talked with himbefore he came here. He thinks that Virginia is made up of fools, thatonly Pennsylvania knows how to handle the Indians. "

I swung into the saddle and the colonel kindly said:

"I hope this business of mine isn't taking you away from something morepleasant. "

"I thank you, Colonel, but I am quite free. All I ask is action and anearly return to the frontier. "

I knew the colonel knew the truth. He knew I had paid my respects to thegirl and had been dismissed. He stretched out a hand in silence and gaveme a hearty handshake; and I shook the reins and thundered up the road toStaunton. 

CHAPTER VI

THE PACK-HORSE-MAN'S MEDICINE

Charles Lewis was as popular as he was widely known. He had the gift ofattracting men to him on short acquaintance and of holding them aslife-long friends. His fame as an Indian-fighter was known throughout theSouth, his adventures possessing those picturesque elements which stronglyappeal to border-folk. During the Braddock and Pontiac Wars his servicewas practically continuous. 

In his home-life he was a kindly, gentle man. I found him playing with hisfive small children. He greeted me warmly and displayed none of hisbrother's austerity. During the greater part of two days which I was inhis hospitable home I succeeded, I pride myself, in showing him the truthconcerning the various reports sent over the line from Pennsylvania. 

I know that when I left him he was convinced the war must be fought to adecisive finish before any of our western valleys could be safe. On onepoint he was very positive: the Cherokees, he insisted, would not join theOhio tribes, despite the murder of Oconostota's brother. Could the peopleof the Clinch and Holston have felt the same confidence, they would havespared themselves much nagging. 

I took my time in returning to Salem, for there was much to think over. The bulk of my meditations concerned Patsy Dale. I decided to see her oncemore before crossing the mountains. I had no hope of finding her changed, but I did not intend to leave a shadow of a doubt in my own mind. I wouldleave no room for the torturing thought that had I been less precipitateshe would have been more kindly. 

Yet I had no foolish expectations; I knew Patricia. This last interviewwas to be an orderly settlement of the whole affair, and assurance thatself-accusation should not accompany me to the wilderness. Then with thewar over there would be no over-mountain ties to hold me back from theKentucky country, or the Natchez lands. 

I reached Richfield just as Colonel Lewis was setting forth to settle somewrangling between two of his captains. It was the old contention overenlistments, each leader charging the other with stealing men. I stoppedonly long enough to get my horse and to induce the colonel to let me havetwenty pounds of powder and ten pounds of lead for the settlers. The leadwas sufficient for seven hundred rounds and, divided into one-fourthportions, the powder would give a consciousness of power of eightyriflemen. 

It was late afternoon when my fresh mount brought me to Salem, and withoutany hesitation--for I must move while my resolve was high--I galloped outto the Dale house. The low sun extended my shadow to a grotesque length asI flung myself from the saddle and with an attempt at a bold swaggeradvanced to find the maid. I am sure my bearing suggested confidence, butit was purely physical. 

Inwardly I was quaking and wondering how I should begin my explanation forthis second call. I was a most arrant coward when I mounted the veranda. The carefully rehearsed calm of my leather face vanished and I made thediscouraging discovery that my features were out of control. The door ofthe house was open. I rapped loudly and frowned. A shuffling step, whichnever could be Patricia's, nor yet heavy enough for Dale, finally rewardedby efforts. A colored woman came to the door and ducked her portly form. 

I began asking for Patricia, but she recognized me as a recent caller andbroke in:

"De massa 'n' de young missy done gwine 'way. Dat onery white man gone wifdem. "

"Gone away? John Ward went with them?" I mumbled. "Which way did theyride, Aunty?"

"Dat a-way. " And she pointed to the sun, now sliced in half by Walker'sMountain. 

"You are sure they made for the mountains?"

"Dey gwine to slam right ag'in' 'em, den ride ober dem, " she declared. 

So after all my warnings the Dales were foolhardy enough to ride intodanger. Ericus Dale would not only stake his own life but even hisdaughter's on his faith in red men. I recalled Cornstalk's pretendedfriendship for the whites at Carr's Creek and on Jackson's River and theprice the settlers paid for their trustfulness. 

"When did they ride?"

"Two days ergo. Bright 'n' early in de mornin'. "

I ran to my horse and mounted. As I yanked his head about the servantcalled after me:

"De missy have dem mogasums wif her. "

The first stage of my journey was to Dunlap's Creek, although there was nocertainty that the Dales and Ward were taking that route. I had smalldoubt, however, but that Dale was bound for the home of his cousin onHoward's Creek. Unless he knew of some secret trace over the mountains hewould follow the open trail. 

He would be more likely to go boldly and openly, I reasoned, because ofhis belief there was nothing for him to fear. His daughter's conveniencewould be better suited by the main traveled trails. As I hurried to thewest I paused at every habitation and inquired for the travelers. Alwaysthe same reply; two men and a woman had been observed. 

When I finally reached the Greenwood cabin at Dunlap's Creek I learned Ihad gained a day because of Patricia's need for rest. She was an oddbundle of contradictions. She felt superior to frontier women, and howthey would have smiled at the thought of recuperating after the easytravel from Salem to the creek! Many of the women on the Greenbriar hadwalked the entire distance over the mountains so that the pack-animalsmight be used in carrying the jealously guarded and pitiably fewhousehold-goods. 

It was amazing to contemplate what a difference two or three hundred milescould make in one's environment. Patricia Dale, soft and dainty, was usedto the flattery of the town, and, I feared, the attention of many beaux. Her parents had known none of the comfortable places in life at her age;and yet she had responded to her environment, had been petted by it, andnow she was a domestic kitten. I wondered if she would respond to herancestry if placed among arduous experiences. I knew the kitten would, andtherein I found hope for Patsy Dale. 

I had been greatly shocked when told the girl was being taken over themountains. Now by some peculiar mental twist I was beginning to enjoysecretly the prospect of seeing her again and in surroundings whichharmonized with long rifles and hunting-shirts. On the surface I persistedin my anger at Dale and vehemently wished her back at Salem. Yet my guiltyanticipation endured, and as a sop to conscience I tried to make myselfbelieve there was no danger. 

Howard's Creek could not be conquered so long as the settlers kept closeto the cabins and fort. I believed that or I should have urged a return ofall the women to the east side of the mountains. If the enemy, in force, should lay a protracted siege, Howard's Creek would be remembered amongother bloody annals. 

But I knew there would be no prolonged attempt to massacre the settlement. Cornstalk was too wise a warrior to weaken his forces for a score ofscalps when a general engagement was pending. Let him win that and hecould take his time in blotting out every cabin west of the Alleghanies. So after all it was neither difficult nor illogical to convince myself thegirl would be safe as long as she kept close to the creek. 

Even Dale would not plan to take his daughter beyond the creek. If heattempted it there were men enough to prevent the mad act. Across thisline of thought came the recollection of the Grisdols' fate. The girlwould be safe at Howard's Creek, but death lined the trace leadingthereto. My reason assured me Black Hoof's band had long since departedfrom the mountains. 

My fear that the girl was being led into an ambush threw me into a finesweat; and I pushed on the faster. I reviewed all the circumstances whichwould preclude the possibility of an Indian attack on the three travelers. There could be no Indians between Dunlap's and Howard's. Black Hoof'slosses at the Grisdol cabin, the venomous hatred of young Cousin stalkingthem day and night and the appearance of Baby Kirst would surely hastentheir retreat. 

But there would obtrude the terrible possibility of a few raiders hidingalong the trace, determined to strengthen their medicine with more whitescalps. But never once did I count in favor of the girl Dale's boastedfriendship with the Shawnees. Even my most visionary listing of assetscould not include that. I made a night-camp half-way across the mountainsand dined on cold provisions procured from the Greenwoods. 

The morning brought optimism. By this time the girl was safe in the Daviscabin. I finished my prepared food and resumed my journey. I had covered amile when a mounted figure turning a twist in the trace ahead sent me tothe ground. The two of us struck the ground at about the same moment. Ourrifles slid across the saddles as if we were puppets worked by the samestring. Then a voice called out:

"I won't shoot if you won't. "

Of course he was white. 

"Jesse Hughes!" I exclaimed, vaulting into the saddle. "These are queerhunting-grounds for you. " Then in sudden terror, "Are the Indians backhere in the mountains?"

"Devil take worse luck! No, " he grumbled as he trotted to meet me. "I'mgoing out to Greenwood's to see if I can't git a few shoots of powder. "

"Have you seen Ericus Dale, the trader?" I anxiously asked. 

"Yes, I seen the fool. He was making the creek when I come off. His galwas with him and John Ward. Come pretty nigh potting that Ward feller. He's a white man, but I can't git it out of my noodle that he ain't a'Injun. "

"How did Dale's girl stand the journey?"

The query surprised him, and he looked puzzled. 

"Stand it?" he slowly repeated. "Why, she ain't sick or hurt, is she?"

I said something about her not being used to riding long distances. 

"Long distances!" he snorted. "Wal, if a woman can't foller a smooth traceon a good hoss for a day's ride, she ain't got no business west of themountains. I can't stick here swapping talk. I've got to push on and gitthat powder. Curse the luck!"

"The Greenwoods have no powder to spare. He has less than half a pound. "

"Black devils in a pipe! Howard's Creek will have to go to making bows andarrers!"

"I've brought twenty pounds of powder and ten of lead from Salem, " Iadded. "Howard's Creek is welcome to it after I've outfitted myself. "

"Hooray! That ends that cussed trip. Twenty pounds! Wal, I declare ifthere won't be some rare killings! Now I'll hustle right back along withyou. I've felt all the time that some one would be gitting hair thatbelonged to me if I come off the creek. Ten pounds of lead! Seven hundredlittle pills! That'll let Runner, Hacker, Scott 'n' me strike for theOhio, where we can catch some of them red devils as they beat back home. They'll be keerless and we oughter nail quite a few. "

"Crabtree isn't going with you?"

"Ike ain't got no stummick for a reg'lar stand-up fight. He'll hang roundthe creek and kill when he catches a red along. "

"He'll get no powder from my stock to use around the creek, " I declared. 

Hughes eyed me moodily. 

"What odds where they're killed so long as they're rubbed out?" he harshlydemanded. 

"Women and children are the odds, " I retorted. "Crabtree kills friendlyIndians. Even young Cousin, who hates reds as much as any man alive, won'tmake a kill in a settlement unless the Indians are attacking it. "

"That's the one weak spot in Cousin, " regretted Hughes. "He's a goodhater. But he'd have a bigger count for that little sister of his if he'dtake them wherever he finds them. It's all damn foolishness to pick andchoose your spot for killing a red skunk. And this friendly Injun talkmakes me sick! Never was a time but what half the Shawnees and othertribes was loafing 'round the settlements, pretending to be friends, whilet'other half was using the tomahawk and scalping-knife. 

"That sort of medicine won't do for me. No, siree! Injuns are a pest, justlike wolves and painters, only worse. They must be wiped out. That's mybelief and I make it my business to wipe them out. Few men that's gotmore'n me. "

It's a waste of time to talk with a bloody-minded man. Hughes' brother waskilled by the Indians. As for that, there was hardly a settler in Virginiawho had not lost some dear friend or relative. When the history of thecountry is written, it will surprise the coming generations to read themany names having opposite them, "Killed by the Indians. "

I was sorry I had met Hughes. His company grated on me. It was impossibleto think of Patsy Dale with the fellow's cruel babble ringing in my ears. I remained silent and he garrulously recounted some of his many exploits, and with gusto described how he had trapped various victims. It was hisone ambition of life. He cared nothing for land. 

Offer him all of Colonel Washington's thirty-odd thousand acres on theOhio and Great Kanawha as a gift, and he would have none of them unlessthey contained red men to slaughter. He had laid down a red path and itwas his destiny to follow it. I had no love for Shawnee or Mingo, but mymind held room for something besides schemes for bloodletting. 

And yet it was well for me that I had met Hughes the Indian-hater, anddoubly well that I had brought powder and lead so that he had turned backwith me. We were riding down the western slope and about clear of themountains, I trying to think my own thoughts and he talking, talking, hiswords dripping blood, when ahead in the trace I spied something on theground that caused me to exclaim aloud. 

It was a brightly beaded moccasin, very small, and strangely familiar evenat a distance. Hughes saw it and stared at it through half-closed lids. Ileaped from my horse and started forward to pick it up. 

"Don't touch it;" yelled Hughes. "Come back! Come back!"

I heard him and understood his words, and yet I continued advancing whileI mechanically endeavored to guess his reason for stopping me. 

"Jump, you fool!" he yelled as I stretched out my hand to pick up themoccasin. And his horse was almost upon me and covering me with dirt as hepivoted and slid into the bushes, his hindquarters hitting me and hurlingme over, half a dozen feet beyond the little moccasin. I landed on my headand shoulders with the crack of a rifle echoing in my dazed ears. 

Instinct sent me rolling out of the trace and into the bushes. By the timeI gained my knees and had cleared the dirt from my eyes Hughes was workingrapidly up the right-hand slope. His horse stood at the edge of thebushes, rubbing noses with my animal. I kept under cover of the growth andhalted abreast of the moccasin. 

There was a furrow within a few inches of its embroided toe. I broke abranch and pawed the moccasin toward me and picked it up and went back tothe horses. Then I took time to examine my prize. It was one of the pair Ihad given to Patsy Dale. She must have carried it carelessly to drop it inthe trace without discovering her loss. I slipped it into my hunting-shirtand sat down to wait for Hughes. It was fully an hour before he cameback. 

"Couldn't git a crack at him, " he growled, his face grim and sullen. "Butyou was a fool to be took in by such a clumsy trick as that. "

"It's an old trick, " I conceded, taking the moccasin from my shirt. "If ithad been any Indian finery I would have kept clear of it. But this happensto belong to Ericus Dale's girl. She dropped it coming down the slope. "

He heard this in astonishment and scratched his head helplessly. 

"Then I must 'a' been asleep, or in a hell of a hurry when I come to thisslope, " he muttered. "And it ain't just the right kind of a slope to gogalloping over. I don't understand it a bit. They was riding into thesettlement when I come out. I called to Dale and asked if he'd seen anyInjun signs. He told me he hadn't seen any. Then that feller Ward cometrotting out the woods, looking like a' Injun, and I was bringing up myrifle to give him his needings when Dale let out a yelp and said he was awhite man. Wal, it'll tickle the gal to learn how near her moccasin cometo killing you. "

"The Indian knew it was there and knew we were coming, and used it forbait, " I mused. 

"A five-year-old child would know that, " was the scornful rejoinder. "Butwhat no five-year-old on Howard's Creek would 'a' done was to go for togit it after I'd called a halt. You must 'a' been foolish in your mind. The Injun took a spot where he could line his gun on the moccasin. Thegrowth cut off any sight of the trace 'cept where the moccasin lay. All hehad to do was to line it and shoot when you stooped over it. The second hecouldn't see the moccasin he'd know some one's body was between it andhim. He heard me bawl out, but he didn't git sight of you till you wasover it, and by that time my old hoss give you a belt and made you keep onmoving. "

"He undershot, yet as I was bending close to it he would have bagged me, "I said. "I have to thank you for saving my life. "

"Part of a day's work, " he carelessly observed. "Wal, seeing as the skunkhas skedaddled, we might as well push on rather smart and tell the fellersthere's a loose red round these parts. "

When we entered the settlement we saw men and women gathered in front ofthe Davis cabin, frankly curious to see the newcomers and eager to volleythem with questions. I joined the group and through a window beheld Patsyin animated conversation with what women could crowd inside. Mrs. Daviswas very proud of her cousin's daughter and was preening herselfconsiderably. 

Patsy's cheeks were flushed and her tongue was racing as only a woman'scan. As she talked I could see she was trying to get used to the table ofsplit slabs and its four round legs set in auger-holes, the pewtertableware and the spoons and bowls fashioned from wood, and the gourds andhard-shell squash hollowed out for noggings. 

With a slant of half-veiled eyes she also was studying the women's linseypetticoats and bare feet, for now that it was warm weather many dispensedwith any foot-covering. In turn the women were openly examining thetexture and style of her town gown, and shrilly calling on one another tocome and admire her soft leather boots. 

I did not see Dale, and Davis informed me he was inspecting the fort. AsWard was not in sight I assumed he, too, was at the fort. Making my way tothe window, I caught Patsy's eye and handed her her lost moccasin. 

She stared at the moccasin in bewilderment, but what with the newness ofher experience and the voluble praise of the women and the open-eyedadmiration of the men, she was finely excited. She forgot to ask where Ifound the moccasin or how I happened to be there. She was in the act ofgiving me a smile and a nod when Mrs. Davis tugged her to theright-about. 

Realizing it was useless to strive for the girl's attention until theneighbors returned to their cabins, I walked to the fort, leading myhorse. Hughes was there ahead of me and stood with a group of sullen-facedmen who were being addressed by Ericus Dale. 

"I say there ain't going to be any war, " he cried as I took a positionbehind him. "The Indians don't want war. They want trade. Take a pack ofgoods on your horse and walk into a Shawnee village and see how quickthey'll quit the war-post to buy red paint and cloth. 

"Open a keg of New England rum among the Mingos and see how quick they'lldrop their axes and hunt for tin dippers. Take blankets and beads to theWyandots and watch them hang up white wampum. Take----"

"Oh, that's all fool talk!" thundered Hughes crowding forward and staringangrily into the trader's deep-set eyes. "You can't lead a pack-hoss fiftymiles from this creek without losing your hair, neighbor. "

"I can! I will!" wrathfully replied Dale. "I've traded for years with theIndians. I never yet went to them with a gun in my hand. If ever I needprotection, they'll protect me. They are my friends. This war is allwrong. You can have it if you insist. But if you'd rather have trade, thenyou needn't build any more forts west of the Alleghanies. "

Hughes laughed hoarsely and called out to the silent settlers:

"What do you fellers say to all this twaddle? Any of you believe it?"

Uncle Dick, whom I had left whetting his knife on the stones of the Davisfireplace, gave a cackling laugh and answered:

"Believe it? No! But it's fun to hear him splutter. "

The men smiled grimly. They had held back from affronting their neighbor'scousin. They looked upon Dale much as they looked on Baby Kirst when hecame to the settlement and whimpered because he could not find ripeberries to pick. They were deciding that Dale was mentally irresponsible;only his malady took a different twist than did Baby's. He was anIndian-lover instead of hater. Dale's dark face flushed purple with anger. By an effort he controlled himself and said:

"All right. You men want a fight. I'm afraid you'll have it. But I tellyou that if Dunmore would call off that dog of a Connolly at Fort Pitt Icould go among the Ohio Indians and make a peace which would last. "

"How about the Injuns being willing for us to go down into the Kentuckycountry?" spoke up Moulton. 

"If you want peace with the Indian, you must let him keep a place to huntand live in. He can't live if you take away his hunting-grounds. "

"Then let's take 'em away so they'll die out tarnation fast, " cried ElijahRunner. 

Drawing himself up and speaking with much dignity, Dale said:

"I am sorry for any of you men who came out here to make homes if you willlet a few Indian-killers, who never make homes, spoil your chances forgetting ahead. "

"We don't go for to kill every Injun we see, " said Davis, heretoforesilent. "I'm a fambly-man. I don't want Injuns butchered here in thesettlement like as Ike Crabtree done for Cherokee Billy. No sense inthat. "

"That's what I say, too, " agreed another. And this endorsement of Davis'view became quite general. Of course I had known right along that thesettlers as a whole did not look with favor upon indiscriminate slaughterof the natives. Dale nodded his approval and said:

"Well, that's something. Only you don't go far enough. "

Hughes angrily took up the talk, declaring:

"You cabin-men are mighty tickled to have us Injun-hating fellers comealong when there's any chance of trouble. I've noticed that right along. "

"Course we are, Jesse, " agreed Davis. "But that don't mean we're mightyglad when some of you kill a friendly Injun in the settlement and, bydoing so, bring the fighting to us. "

"I 'low we've outstayed our welcome, " Hughes grimly continued. "You folksfoller this man's trail and it'll lead you all to the stake. I'm moving onto-night. "

"Don't go away mad, Jesse, " piped up old Uncle Dick. "Talk don't hurtnothin'. Stick along an' git your fingers into the fightin' what's boundto come. "

"I'm going away to kill Injuns, " was the calm reply. "That's mybusiness. "

"Hacker, Scott 'n' me will go along with you, " said Runner. "Now thatHoward's Creek has got a trader to keep the Injuns off, we ain't neededhere no more. "

"I can keep the Indians away, " cried Dale. "When I offer them my belts, they'll be glad to receive them. You send them a few trade-belts in placeof the bloody ax and they'll be your friends, too. "

"Bah!" roared Hughes, too disgusted to talk. 

"What does the white Injun say?" yelled one of the young men. 

He had barely put the query before John Ward stalked through the fort doorand stood at Dale's elbow. Speaking slowly and stressing his words in thatjerky fashion that marks an Indian's speech in English, he said:

"The trader is right. I have been a prisoner among Indians for many years. I know their minds. Dale can go anywhere among Indians where he has beenbefore, and no hand will be lifted against him. "

"You're a liar!" passionately cried Hughes, his hand creeping to hisbelt. 

Ward folded his arms across his deep chest and stared in silence at Hughesfor nearly a minute; then slowly said:

"No Indian ever called me that. It's a man of my own race that uses theword to me. "

"And a mighty cheap sample of his race, " boomed Dale, his heavy faceconvulsed with rage. "A cheap killer, who must strike from behind! Faugh!It's creatures like you----" With an animal screech Hughes jumped for him. Before we could seize the infuriated man Ward's arm was thrust across hischest and with the rigidity of a bar of iron stopped the assault. BeforeHughes could pull knife or ax from his belt we hustled him into thebackground. His three friends scowled ferociously but offered nointerference. It was obvious that the settlers as a body would nottolerate any attack on Dale. 

Inarticulate with rage, Hughes beckoned for Hacker, Scott and Runner tofollow him. A few rods away he halted and called out:

"Dale, I'll live to hear how your red friends have danced your scalp. ThenI'll go out and shoot some of them. That white Injun beside you will beone of the first to stick burning splinters into your carcass. He's livedwith redskins too long to forget his red tricks. Come on, fellers. "

This sorry disturbance depressed the spirits of the settlers. War was on, and there was none of the Howard's Creek men who believed that any changein their attitude could prevent the Ohio Indians from slaying at everyopportunity. No matter how much they might decry the acts of Hughes andhis mates in time of peace, there was no denying the fighting-value of thequartet when it came to war. 

No word was spoken until the last of the four killers had filed away tosecure their horses and be gone. Then Davis said:

"Time to eat, Ericus. Let's go back and see how the women-folks is gettin'along. "

"Keep that white scum from this creek until I can carry a bag of talk toCornstalk and Logan and you won't need any armed bullies to protect you, "said Dale. 

"We ain't askin' of 'em to look after us, nor you with your white belts, neither, " shrilly proclaimed Uncle Dick. 

Some of the younger men laughed. 

Dale reddened, but turned to walk with his cousin without making anyanswer. He all but bumped into me. 

"Why, Morris!" he greeted, staring at me in surprise. "You bob upeverywhere. Will you go with me to the Scioto villages?"

"Go as what?" I cautiously asked. The men gathered closer about us. 

"Go as a trader, carrying white wampum. Go to make peace with theShawnees, " slowly replied Dale, his eyes burning with the fire offanaticism. 

"Not hankering for slow fires, nor to have squaws heap coals on my head, Imust refuse, " I retorted. "But I'll go with you or any man, as a scout. "

"In your blood, too, " he jeered. "I didn't suppose you'd been out herelong enough to lose your head. "

"I'd certainly lose it if the Shawnees got me, " I good-naturedly retorted. My poor jest brought a rumble of laughter from the men and added to Dale'sresentment, which I greatly regretted. 

John Ward glided to my side and said:

"You talk like a child. I have been long among the Indians. They did nottake my head. "

I didn't like the fellow. There was something of the snake in his way ofstealthily approaching. I could not get it out of my head that he must behalf-red. Had he been all Indian, I might have found something in him tofancy; for there were red men whom I had liked and had respectedimmensely. But Ward impressed me as being neither white nor red. Hestirred my bile. Without thinking much, I shot back at him:

"Perhaps they did something worse to you than to take your head. Are yousure they didn't take your heart?"

He turned on his heel and stalked away. Dale snarled:

"You're worse than Hughes and those other fools. You even hate a poorwhite man who has been held prisoner by the Indians. He comes back to hispeople and you welcome him by telling him he's a renegade. Shame on you!"

"No call for that sort of talk to Ward at all!" denounced Davis. 

"What call had Ward to say he was a fool?" loudly demanded one of theyoung men. 

"I shouldn't have said that, " I admitted, now much ashamed of myhot-headedness. "I'll say as much to Ward when I see him next. If he'dlook and act more like a white man then I'd keep remembering that he iswhite. But I shouldn't have said that. "

"Morris, that's much better, " said Dale. "I'll tell him what you said andyou needn't eat your words a second time in public. I admire you forconquering yourself and saying it. "

Uncle Dick did not relish my retraction, and his near-sighted eyes glaredat me in disgust. 

"Too much talkin'. Scouts oughter be out. Our friends, th' killers, havequit us. "

Glad to be alone, I volunteered:

"I'll scout half the circle, striking west, then south, returning on theeast side. "

Moulton, a quiet, soft-spoken fellow, but a very demon in a fight, pickedup his rifle and waved his hand to his wife and little girl and trotted inthe opposite direction, calling back over his shoulder:

"I'll go east, north and half-down the west side. "

I finished on the north leg at the point where Moulton had commenced hisscout. I made no discoveries while out. I walked to the fort and was gladto see that Moulton had but recently come in. I returned to the Daviscabin and passed behind it. So far as I could observe no sentinels hadbeen posted on the east side of the clearing. In front of the cabin burneda big fire and there was a confusion of voices. 

I gained a position at the end of the cabin, and from the shadows viewedthe scene. It was old to me, but new to Patsy, and she was deeplyinterested. The young men had erected a war-post, and had painted theupper half red. Now they were dancing and cavorting around the post likeso many red heathens, bowing their heads nearly to the ground and thenthrowing them far back. They were stripped to the waist and had paintedtheir faces, and as they danced they stuck their axes into the post andwhooped and howled according to the Indian ceremony of declaring war. 

"I don't like it!" I heard Dale protest. 

"But the boys only wanted Patsy to see how the Injuns git ready for war, "defended Mrs. Davis. "An', lor'! Ain't she all took up by it!"

"But it's the way the border men declared war after the murder at YellowCreek, " declared Dale. "They stripped and painted and struck the post anddanced around it. "

"They'll be through mighty soon now, Ericus, " soothed Davis, who wasuneasy between his fears of displeasing his wife's cousin and givingoffense to the young men. "They meant well. "

"All such actions mean ill for the settlers, " growled Dale. "They'd bestfinish at once. "

Davis did not have to incur his neighbors' ill-will by asking the dancersto cease their ceremony, as Dale's speech was closely followed by a volleyfrom the west side of the clearing. A dancer went down, coughing andclawing at his throat, while yelps of surprise and pain told me others hadbeen wounded. I raised my rifle and fired toward the flashes. 

With the promptness of seasoned veterans the young men kicked the fire topieces and grabbed up their rifles and advanced toward the hidden foe, their movements being barely perceptible even while within reach of thelight streaming from the cabins. 

It was not until I had fired and was reloading that I was conscious ofPatsy's ear-splitting shrieks. I heard her father fiercely command her tobe still, then command Davis to recall the young men now lost in thedarkness. A stentorian voice began shouting:

"All women to the fort! Put out all lights!"

One by one the candles were extinguished. Patsy was silent, and across theclearing came the low voices of the women, driving their children beforethem and urging them to hurry. Dark forms were discernible close at handand were those settlers apportioned to defend the fort. 

Davis was commanding his wife to take Patsy to the fort while there wasyet time, and she was refusing. The savages must have heard the men andwomen leaving the outlying cabins, for they started to rush from the woodsonly to fall back before a brisk volley from the young men now scoutingwell to the front. 

I walked to the cabin door just as the war-whoop of the Shawnees announcedan attack in force. I was standing by Patsy's side, but she did not seeme. She had both hands clapped over her ears, her lips parted but utteringno sound. Now there came a rush of feet and the young men fell back, somemaking into the fort, others, as previously assigned, entering the cabinsclose to the fort. Three came to the Davis cabin, and I entered with them, leading Patsy. Some one, I think it was Davis, dragged Dale inside. 

The trader seemed to be paralyzed, for he had remained voiceless duringthe stirring events. And it had all been a matter of a few minutes. Ijumped through the doorway just as a young man began closing it. TheShawnees were yelling like demons and approaching to close range verycautiously, feeling out each rod of the ground. 

The sally of the young men had taught them they could not have all thingstheir own way. I scouted toward the fort to make sure all the women andchildren had made cover, but before I could reach the log walls I heardDale's voice shouting for attention. I dropped behind a stump, and as thesavages ceased their howling I heard him hoarsely crying:

"It is the Pack-Horse-Man speaking. Do the Shawnees fire guns at thePack-Horse-Man? My friends live here. Do the Shawnees hurt the friends ofthe Pack-Horse-Man? I give you a belt to wash the red paint from yourfaces. I give you a belt to make the road smooth between the Greenbriarand the Scioto. By this belt the nettles and rocks shall be removed fromthe road. I will cover the bones of your dead, if any fell to-night, withmany presents. "

He was either very brave or crazy. For now he left the cabin and beganwalking toward the hidden Shawnees, his confident voice repeating the facthe was the red man's friend, that he brought white belts, that the red andwhite men should eat from one dish, and that a hole should be dug to themiddle of the earth and the war-ax buried there and a mighty river turnedfrom its ancient bed to flow over the spot so that the ax could never befound. 

His amazing boldness brought the hush of death over cabins and forts. Myhorse, secured in the small stockaded paddock near the fort, whinnied forme to come to him, and his call in that tense stillness set my nerves tojumping madly. Dale was now close to the warriors. Every minute I expectedto see a streak of fire, or hear the crunch of an ax. Trailing my rifleand bent double, I stole after him. From the forest a deep voice shouted:

"The belts of the Pack-Horse-Man are good belts. Black Hoof's warriors donot harm the friends of the Pack-Horse-Man. Sleep with your cabin doorsopen to-night and you shall hear nothing but the call of the night birdsand the voice of the little owl talking with the dead. "

I now discovered that the Shawnees had silently retreated to the woods atthe beginning of Dale's advance. The declaration of peace as given by theIndian--and I was convinced it was the famous Black Hoof talking--was inthe Shawnee tongue. Dale faced to the cabins and fort and triumphantlyinterpreted it. From deep in the forest came a pulsating cry, the farewellof the marauders, as they swiftly fell back toward New River. I wassuspicious of some Indian trick and yelled a warning for the men to keepin the cabins. 

Dale became very angry, and upbraided me:

"It's the like of you that spoils the Indian's heart. You men have heardwhat the Black Hoof says. You men and women of Howard's Creek are foolishto believe this young fool's words. The Shawnees have gone. You heardtheir travel-cry. They have left none behind to harm by treachery. I toldyou I could keep the Indians from attacking this settlement. Could yourfriends, the killers, have sent them away so quickly? I think not. Openyour doors. Light your candles. Make merry if you will. There is nothingin the forest to harm you. "

"Keep inside till I and some of the young men have scouted the woods. Three men from the fort will be enough, " I loudly shouted. 

Dale was furious, but that was nothing when the women and children had tobe remembered. Soon a soft pattering of moccasins, and three youths stoodbefore me. Choosing one, I set off in the direction the Indians apparentlyhad taken. The other two were to separate, one scouting south and theother north, to discover any attempt at a surprise attack by swinging backto the creek in a half-circle. 

My companion and I, although hampered by the darkness, penetrated somemiles toward New River. In returning, we separated, one swinging south andthe other north. The first morning light was burning the mists from thecreek when I reentered the clearing. My companion came in an hour later. The other two had returned much earlier, having had a much shorter courseto cover. We all made the same report; no signs of Indians except thoseleft by them in their retreat. 

I sat outside the Davis cabin and Patsy brought me some food. She was veryproud of her father and carried her small figure right grandly. Herattitude toward the women was that of a protector; and they, dear souls, so thankful to be alive, so eager to accept the new faith, fairlyworshiped the girl. 

The one exception was the Widow McCabe. She paid homage to no one. Andwhile she said nothing to the chorus of admiring exclamations directed atthe trader there was the same cold glint in the slate-gray eyes, and shewalked about with her skirts tucked up and an ax in her hand. 

I made no effort to talk with Patsy. Her frame of mind was too exalted forspeech with a skeptical worm. She smiled kindly on me, much as a goddessdesigns to sweeten the life of a mortal with a glance. She smiled ingentle rebuke as she noted my torn and stained garments and the moccasinsso sadly in need of patching. 

"You silly boy! It wasn't necessary. When will you learn, Morris?" It wasnot intended that I should answer this, for she turned away graciously toreceive the blessings of the women. Thus, vicariously, was Ericus Dalerecognized as a great man. And the trader walked among the morning clouds. For some hours the savor of his triumph stifled speech, and he wanderedabout while the women paid their tribute through his daughter. 

Nor were the men lacking in appreciation. The younger generation remainedsilent, secretly wishing their bravery and marksmanship had scattered thefoe, yet unable to deny that Dale's medicine had been very powerful. Thosewith families stared upon him as they might gaze on one who had looked onDavid. 

They congregated around the Davis cabin after the morning meal and forgotthere was much work to be done. They were eager to renew their fires ofthis new faith by listening to him. And after his exaltation had softenedenough to permit of speech the trader once more harangued them on hisinfluence over the natives. He was constantly in motion, his swinging armskeeping a path clear as he strode through the group and back again andaddressed the mountains and horizon. He was too full of the sweets of apeaceful victory to confine his utterance to any individual, and he spoketo the whole frontier. 

He concluded a long and eloquent speech by saying:

"So after all, as you settlers have learned, the Ohio tribes, yes, and alltribes, will always hark to the one word--trade. They are now dependentupon the white man for traps and guns, even their women's clothing. Tradewith them and they will remain your friends, for your goods they musthave. 

"You can plant your war-posts three feet apart along the whole length ofVirginia, and you'll always have work for your rifles and axes until thelast Indian-hunter is killed. I admit they can be exterminated, but you'llpay an awful price in doing it. But give them a chance to live, carrytrade-belts to them, and you shall have peace. "

Even Uncle Dick, the aged one, had nothing to say. But it was Patsy I waswatching while Dale talked. She never took her eyes from him, and her gazewas idolatrous in its love. She believed in his powers implicitly; and tobask in the reflection of his greatness was the sweetest triumph she hadever experienced. Throughout that day the scouts were busy in the forest, ranging very far on the track of Black Hoof's band. When they begandropping in after sundown all their reports were alike. 

There were no Indian-signs besides those left by the departing Shawneeband. This band, said the scouts, was very large and quite sufficient tocause the settlement much trouble and inevitable losses. There was nomistaking the story told by the trail. The Indians had marched rapidly, swinging north. 

Every emotion, unless it be that of love, must have its ebb; and bynightfall the settlers were returning to their old caution. Dale did notrelish this outcropping of old habits. Throwing open the door of the Daviscabin after Davis had closed and barred it, he cried: "Let us have air. There is no danger. You're like silly children afraid of the dark. Yourscouts have told you there are no Indians near. Yet the minute the sunsets you imagine the woods are full of them. I will go out alone andunarmed and I will shout my name. If any Shawnee who was not in BlackHoof's band hears my voice he will come to me. After he learns I havefriends here on Howard's Creek, he will go away. Give me time to actbefore that scoundrel Connolly can stir up more trouble and I'll make alasting peace between the Greenbriar, the Clinch and the Holston and theOhio tribes; and I'll make Dunmore look like a fool. "

His overpowering personality, his massive way of asserting things made adeep impression on the simple folks. They asked only for a chance to plantand reap. When he went out alone that night he brought them deep under hisspell. As he plunged into the forest and stumbled about he took pains toadvertise his presence. Unknown to the settlers, I trailed him. I waswithin ten feet of him when he halted and shouted his name, and in theirlanguage called on the Shawnees to come to him. 

For half an hour he wandered about, proclaiming he was the Pack-Horse-Man, the ancient friend of the Shawnees and Mingos. Let him be a fool accordingto Jesse Hughes' notion, yet he was a very brave man. He had the courageto attempt proof of his belief in the honesty of the Shawnees. 

I trailed him back to the cabin door. I saw the girl's radiant face as sheproudly threw her arms about his neck. I saw the great pride in his ownface as he stood in the middle of the floor and harshly demanded:

"Now, who will you believe; Dale, the trader, or Hughes, the killer?"

It was all mighty dramatic, and it was not surprising that it shouldaffect the settlers keenly. It shook my skepticism a bit, but only for themoment. If I could not feel a full confidence in John Ward, born white, how could I place a deep and abiding trust in those who were born red? Hadnot Cornstalk and other chiefs, the best of their breed, sworn friendshipto the whites in Virginia in 1759 and during Pontiac's War? Had they notfeasted with old friends, and then, catching them off their guard, choppedthem down? Black Hoof had drawn off his raiders; so far, so good. But Ilooked to my flints none the less carefully that night and made the roundsto see that reliable men were on guard. The night passed with nothing todisturb the settlement's rest. 

CHAPTER VII

LOST SISTER

Patsy stood in the doorway of the Davis cabin when I approached to pay myrespects. She was wearing a linsey petticoat and a short gown for anoverskirt. Her mass of wonderful hair was partly confined by a calico cap, and on her feet were my gift moccasins. She believed she was conforming tothe frontier standard of dress, but she was as much out of place as abutterfly at a bear-baiting. Before I could speak she was advancing towardme, her hands on her hips, her head tilted back, and demanding:

"What do you say now about the influence of trade and the trader?"

She did not ask that she might learn my opinion; she firmly believed therewas but one thing I could say. She was in an exultant mood and happy toparade her triumph. Of course she was proud of her father and was viewinghim as the deliverer of the settlement. Without waiting for me to answershe excitedly continued:

"And your long rifle! And the rifles of all these other men! What goodwould they have done? They spoke night before last, and the Indians keptup their attack. Then my father spoke and the Indians have gone! JohnWard, who was out scouting when the Indians attacked, says they greatlyoutnumbered us and were led by Black Hoof, one of their greatest chiefs. He says they would have captured or killed us if not for my father. Now, Mr. Rifleman, what do you think about the influence of an honest trader?"

I would not have shaken her pride in her father even had thataccomplishment been possible. To convince her--which was notpossible--that her father's success was no success at all, that BlackHoof's behavior was simply an Indian trick to lull us into a foolish senseof security, would mean to alienate even her friendship, let alone killingall chance of her ever reciprocating my love. 

While not deeply experienced with women, my instinct early taught me thatmy sex is most unwise in proving to a woman that she is wrong. She willhold such procedure to be the man's greatest fault. It is far better tolet her discover her own errors, and even then pretend you still cling toher first reasoning, thereby permitting her to convince you that she waswrong. 

On the other hand there was, I sensed, a peril in the situation, a perilto Howard's Creek, that made my seeming acquiescence in her opinion verydistasteful to me. I had no proof of my suspicions except my knowledge ofIndian nature and my familiarity with frontier history. A red man can becapable of great and lasting friendships. But to judge him, when he is atwar, by the standards of the white race is worse than foolish. 

Cornstalk, according to his blood, was a great man. Under certainconditions I would trust him with my life as implicitly as I would trustany white man. Under certain conditions I would repose this same trust inhim although he was at war with my race. But when placed among thecombatants opposing him, I knew there was no subterfuge even that greatwarrior would not use to attain success. 

So I said nothing of my doubts, nothing of my vague suspicions concerningJohn Ward. I felt a strong antipathy toward the fellow, and I realizedthis dislike might prejudice me to a degree not warranted by the facts. Toput it mildly, his status puzzled me. If he were an escaped prisoner thenhe had committed one of the gravest sins in the red man's entirecategory. 

To be taken into the tribe, to be adopted after his white blood had beenwashed out by solemn ceremony, and then to run away, meant the stake andhorrible preliminary tortures should he be recaptured. As a prize such arunaway would be more eagerly sought than any settler. And yet the fellowwas back on the fringe of imminent danger and ranging the woodsunconcernedly. His captivity must have taught him that every war-partywould be instructed to bring him in alive if possible. 

"What's the matter with you, Basdel?" demanded the girl sharply as sheturned and walked by my side toward the Davis cabin. "You act queer. Doyou begrudge giving my father his due? Aren't you thankful he was here tostop the attack?"

"If he were here alone, yes. But I am terribly worried because you arehere, Patsy. "

"But that's doubting my father's influence!" she rebuked, her eyeslighting war-signals. 

"When one has loved, one stops reasoning, " I quickly defended. "I can notbear to see even a shadow of a chance of harm come to you. "

"That was said very pretty, " she smiled, her gaze all softness. 

Then with calm pride she unfastened several strings of white wampum fromaround her slender waist and holding them up simply said:

"My father's belts. "

Among the strings was a strip some seven or eight rows in width and twohundred beads long. It was pictographic and showed a man leading apack-horse along a white road to a wigwam. The figures, like the road, were worked in white beads, the background being dark for contrast. 

Refastening them about her waist, she said:

"There is no danger for me here so long as I wear my father's belts. Thereare none of the Ohio Indians who would refuse to accept them and respectthem. When they see the Pack-Horse-Man walking along the white road totheir villages they will lift that belt up very high. "

"When one sees you, there should be no need of belts, " I ventured. 

She smiled graciously and lightly patted my fringed sleeve, and ignoringmy fervid declaration, she gently reminded:

"Even if I had no belts I am no better than any of the other women on thecreek. Don't think for a moment I would hide behind my father's tradewampum. The belts must protect all of us, or none of us. But there is nomore danger for me than there is for them even if I threw the belts away. Not so much; because I am Ericus Dale's daughter. Basdel, it makes meunhappy to fear that when we leave here the danger may return to thesepeople. I carry my safety with me. I wish I could leave it for them. Iwish a general and lasting peace could be made. "

"God knows I wish the same, " I cried. "As for being no better than theseother women, I agree to that. " And she became suddenly thoughtful. "Injudging from a Howard's Creek standpoint you are not so good in many ways. Rather, I should say, not so valuable. "

"You measure a woman's value as you do your guns and horses, " shemurmured. 

Her calmness was rather ominous, and I feared I had bungled. Yet mymeaning should have been transparent even to a child. To make sure she hadnot misconstrued me I explained:

"You know what I mean, no matter how I appear to measure you. In making anew country a woman on the edge of things must have certain qualities thatthe town woman does not possess, does not need to possess. It's because ofthese qualities that the new country becomes possible as a place to livein; then the town woman develops. Two hundred miles east are conditionsthat resulted from the rugged qualities of the first women on the firstfrontier. 

"Those first women helped to make it safe for their children's children. Now it's behind the frontier and women of your kind live there. In otherwords"--I was growing a trifle desperate, for her gaze, while persistent, was rather blank--"you don't fit in out here. I doubt if you know how torun bullets or load a gun or throw an ax. I'm sure you'd find it verydisagreeable to go barefooted. It isn't your place. Your values shine whenyou are back in town. That's why I'm sorry you're here. "

"I haven't shot a rifle, but I could learn, " she quietly remarked. 

"I believe that, " I heartily agreed. "But could you take an ax and standbetween a drove of children and what you believed to be a band of Indiansabout to break from cover and begin their work of killing? I saw the WidowMcCabe do that. I saw the little Moulton woman, armed with an ax, run tomeet the attack. "

"It's hardly sensible to ask if I could have done this or that. Who knowswhat I could have done? I shall never have to deal with what is past. Andthere was a time, I suppose, when all these women were new to thefrontier. At least I should be allowed time to learn certain things beforeyou apply your measuring-rod, sir!"

"That's right, " I admitted. "I was rather unjust, but the fact remainsthat just now you are out of place and not used to this life and itsdangers. "

"I feel very cross at you. You pass over my father's great work for thesettlement with scarcely a word. You complain because I am here and lookdifferent from Mrs. Davis. I can't help my looks. "

"You are adorable. Already see the havoc you've wrought among theunmarried men. Observe how many times each finds an errand that takes himby this cabin door. How slow they are to scout the woods and seek signs. No; you can't help your looks, and it results there are few men who canresist loving you. There's not a youngster in this settlement who's not upto his neck in love with you already. And there's not one of them who doesnot realize that you would be the poorest mate he could pick so long as hemust live on the border. "

"I'm glad to hear just what you believe about me, " she muttered. "Butyou're bewildering. It seems I'm a rare prize for any man and a mostuncomfortable burden. "

"Oh, dash it all, Patsy! You understand that what I've said applies toHoward's Creek. If we were standing two hundred miles due east I shouldsay directly the opposite. "

Of course she understood my true meaning, and of course in her heart sheagreed with it. She was town-bred and therefore was intended for the town. Yet so strangely stubborn and eccentric is a woman's reasoning that shecan feel resentment toward a man because he has brains enough tocomprehend the same simple truth that she comprehends. 

Had there been no danger from the Indians I could have scored a bull's-eyewith her by baldly declaring her to be the most valuable asset thefrontier ever had received; and she would have dimpled and smiled and butfaintly demurred, knowing I was a rock-ribbed liar for asserting it, andyet liking me the more for the ridiculous exaggeration. That is one reasonwhy it is more sensible and much more satisfactory to quarrel with a manthan a woman. 

With the tenacity which her sex displays when believing a male is tryingto avoid some issue, she coldly reminded:

"Talk, talk, but not a word yet as to what my father did two nights ago. "

"It was one of the most splendid exhibitions of faith and moral courage Iever witnessed. "

Her gaze grew kindly again and she halted and stared up into my eyes, flushed with pleasure, and waited to hear more encomiums. 

"I never before saw one man rush out and confront a war-party. Then hisgoing out alone last night and prowling about through the dark forest!That was magnificent. Your father is one of the bravest men I ever saw. "

She rubbed a pink finger against her nose and tilted her head and weighedmy words thoughtfully. Obviously I had omitted something; for with alittle frown worrying her fair forehead she began:

"But--but there's something else you haven't said. What about hisinfluence over the Indians? You thought him foolish to take me over themountains. You now admit you were foolish to think that?"

She was waiting for me to complete my confessional. If the element ofdanger had been absent how gladly I would have lied to her! How quickly Iwould have won her approval by proclaiming myself the greatest dolt inVirginia and her father the wisest man in the world! But to accede toeverything she said and believed would be an endorsement of her presenceon the creek. I had had no idea of ousting myself from her good graceswhen I went to find her that morning. Now the test had come, and herwelfare was involved; to be true to her as well as to myself I was forcedto say:

"I still think it was most dangerous for you to come here. I believe yourfather acted very unwisely, no matter how much be believes in hisinfluence over the Indians. And I would thank God if you were back inWilliamsburg. "

Her hands dropped to her side. The smiling eyes grew hard. 

"Go on!" she curtly commanded. 

"I've damned myself in your opinion already. Isn't that enough? Don't makeme pay double for being honest. "

"Honest?" she jeered. "You've deliberately dodged my question. I asked youwhat you thought of my father's power with the Indians. You rant about hiswickedness in bringing me here. For the last time I ask you to answer myquestion and finish your list of my father's faults. "

As if to make more steep the precipice down which from her esteem I wasabout to plunge there came the voice of her father, loudly addressing thesettlers. 

"You people ought to wake up, " he was saying. "Was it your rifles, or wasit trade that stopped an attack on these cabins night before last? Whenwill you learn that you can not stop Indian wars until you've killed everyIndian this side the mountains? Has there ever been a time when you oryour fathers could stop their raids with rifles? Well, you've seen oneraid stopped by the influence of trade. "

As he paused for breath the girl quietly said:

"Now, answer me. "

And I blurted out:

"I don't have any idea that Black Hoof and his warriors will hesitate asecond in sacking Howard's Creek because of anything your father has saidor could say. I honestly believe the Shawnees are playing a game, thatthey are hoping the settlers are silly enough to think themselves safe. Iam convinced that once Black Hoof believes the settlers are in that frameof mind he will return and strike just as venomously as the Shawneesstruck in the old French War and in Pontiac's War, after feasting with thewhites and making them believe the red man was their friend. "

She straightened and drew a deep breath, and in a low voice said:

"At last you've answered me. Now go!"

I withdrew from the cabin and from the group of men. Dale's heavy voicewas doubly hateful in my ears. The settlement was a small place. Patsy haddismissed me, and there was scarcely room for me without my presencegiving her annoyance. I went to the cabin where I had left my fewbelongings and filled my powder-horn and shot-pouch. I renewed my stock offlints and added to my roll of buckskins, not forgetting a fresh supply of"whangs" for sewing my moccasins. While thus engaged Uncle Dick came inand began sharpening his knife at the fireplace. 

"Why do that?" I morosely asked. "You are safe from Indian attacks now thetrader has told the Shawnees you are under his protection. "

He leered at me cunningly and ran his thumb along the edge of the knifeand muttered:

"If some o' th' varmints will only git within strikin'-distance! They sureran away night before last, but how far did they go? Dale seems to have apert amount o' authority over 'em; but how long's he goin' to stay here?He can't go trapezin' up 'n' down these valleys and keep men 'n' womenfrom bein' killed by jest hangin' some white wampum on 'em. "

"What do the men think?"

"Them that has famblies are hopin' th' critters won't come back. Youngermen want to git a crack at 'em. Two nights ago th' younkers thought Dalewas mighty strong medicine. A night or two of sleep leaves 'em 'lowin' th'creek may be safe s'long as he sticks here. Some t'others spit it rightout that Black Hoof is playin' one o' his Injun games. If that pert youngpetticoat wa'n't here mebbe we could git some o' th' young men out intoth' woods for to do some real scoutin'. 

"If my eyes was right I'd go. As it is, th' young folks keep runnin' acircle round th' settlement, lickety-larrup, an' their minds is on th'gal, an' they wouldn't see a buf'lo if one crossed their path. Then theyhustle back an' say as how they ain't seen nothin'. I 'low some o' th'older men will have to scout. "

"I'm going out. I'll find the Indians' trail and follow it, " I told him. 

"That'll be neighborly of you. If they chase you back an' git withinstickin'-distance I'll soon have their in'ards out to dry. "

I decided to leave my horse, as the travel would take me through roughplaces. Shouldering my rifle, I struck for the western side of theclearing. Dale had disappeared, gone into the Davis cabin, I assumed, asJohn Ward was lying on the ground near the door. I hadn't seen much ofWard for two days. Davis and Moulton were drawing leather through a tantrough, and I turned aside to speak with them. They noticed I was fittedout for a scout and their faces lighted a bit. 

"Ward's been out ag'in and says the reds went north toward Tygart'sValley. He follered 'em quite some considerable. If you can find any newsigns an' can fetch us word----"

"That's what I'm going out for, Davis. How do you feel about the doings ofnight before last?"

He scratched his chin and after a bit of hesitation answered:

"Wife's cousin is a mighty smart man. Powerful smart. I 'low he knows aheap 'bout Injuns. Been with 'em so much. But we're sorter uneasy. More soto-day than we was yesterday. This waiting to see what'll happen is mostas bad, if not worse, than to have a fight an' have it over with. Once aparcel of Injuns strikes, it either cleans us out or is licked an' don'twant no more for a long time. Still Dale has a master lot of power amongthe Injuns. But we'll be glad to know you're out looking for freshfooting. Their trail oughter be easy to foller, as there was a smartnumber of 'em had hosses. "

"I'll find the trail easy enough, and I'll satisfy myself they are stillmaking toward the Ohio or have swung back, " I assured him. "While I'm gonekeep the young men in the woods and post sentinels. Don't get careless. Don't let the children wander from the cabins. I'm free to tell you, Davis, that I don't believe for a second that you've seen the last ofBlack Hoof and his men. Have all those living in the outlying cabins usethe fort to-night. "

After reaching the woods, I turned and looked back. Dale was standing inthe doorway with one hand resting on the shoulder of John Ward. Ward wastalking to Patsy, whose dainty figure could not be disguised by the coarselinsey gown. 

The man Ward must have lost some of his taciturnity, for the girl waslaughing gaily at whatever he was saying. I observed that Dale was stillfeeling very important in his rôle of protector, for as he stepped fromthe doorway he walked with a swagger. Well, God give that he was right andthat the menace had passed from Howard's Creek. 

I found the trail where it turned back toward Tygart's Valley, even asJohn Ward had reported, and followed it up the Greenbriar. The countryhere was very fertile on both sides of the river and would make rich farmsshould the danger from the Indians ever permit it to be settled. Fartherback from the river on each hand the country was broken and mountainousand afforded excellent hiding-places for large bodies of Indians, as onlyrattlesnakes, copperheads, wolves and wildcats lived there. 

My mood was equal to overdaring, and all because of Patsy Dale. When thesun swung into its western arc I halted where a large number of warriorshad broken their fast. I ate some food and pushed on. After two miles oftravel I came to a branching of the trail. Two of the band had turned offto the northeast. My interest instantly shifted from the main trail to thesmaller one, for I assumed the two were scouting some particularneighborhood, and that by following it I would learn the object of theirattention and be enabled to give warning. 

That done, the footing would lead me back to the main band. The signs werefew and barely sufficient to allow me to keep up the pursuit. It was notuntil I came to a spring, the overflow of which had made muck of theground, that I was afforded an opportunity to inspect the two sets oftracks. One set was made by moccasins almost as small as those I had givento Patricia Dale. 

But why a squaw on a war-path? It was very puzzling. From the amount ofmoisture already seeped into the tracks I estimated the two of them hadstood there within thirty minutes. My pursuit became more cautious. Notmore than twenty rods from the spring I came to a trail swinging in fromthe east, as shown by a broken vine and a bent bush. 

The newcomer had moved carelessly and had fallen in behind the twoIndians. I stuck to the trail until the diminished sunlight warned me itwould soon be too dark to continue. Then I caught a whiff of burning woodand in ten minutes I was reconnoitering a tiny glade. 

My first glance took in a small fire; my second glance dwelt upon a scenethat sent me into the open on the jump. An Indian sat at the foot of awalnut-tree, his legs crossed and his empty hands hanging over his knees. At one side crouched a squaw, her long hair falling on each side of herface and hiding her profile. In a direct line between me and the warriorstood Shelby Cousin, his rifle bearing on the warrior. 

My step caused him to turn, expecting to behold another native. The man onthe ground made no attempt to take advantage of the interruption; and inthe next second Cousin's long double-barrel rifle was again aiming at thepainted chest. 

"Don't go for to try any sp'ilin' o' my game, " warned Cousin withoutlooking at me. 

"They're scouts from a big band of Shawnees now making toward Tygart'sValley, " I informed him. "Can't we learn something from them?"

"I'm going to kill this one now. The squaw can go. Crabtree would snuffher out, but I ain't reached the p'int where I can do that yet. "

"You coward!" cried the squaw in excellent English. 

Cousin darted a puzzled glance at her. His victim seemed to be indifferentto his fate; nor did the woman offer to interfere. 

"She's a white woman!" I cried. For a sunbeam straggled through the growthand rested on the long hair and revealed it to be fine and brown and neverto be mistaken for the coarse black locks of an Indian. 

"White?" faltered Cousin, lowering his rifle. "Watch that devil, Morris!"

I dropped on a log with my rifle across my knees. Cousin strode to thewoman and caught her by the shoulder and pulled her to her feet. For along minute the two stared. 

"Shelby?"

The words dropped from her lips in a sibilous crescendo as her blood droveher to a display of emotion. 

Cousin's hands slowly advanced and pushed back the long locks. He advancedhis face close to hers, and I knew his slight form was trembling. Then hestaggered back and jerkily brought his arm across his eyes. 

"God! It's my sister!" I heard him mutter. 

I leaped to my feet, crying out for him to be a man. He remainedmotionless with his arm across his face, helpless to defend himself. Iturned to the woman. Whatever light had shone in her eyes when memoryforced his name from her lips had departed. 

Her face was cold and immobile as she met my wild gaze. There was a streakof yellow paint running from the bridge of her nose to the parting of herbrown hair. Her skin was as dark as any Shawnee's, but her eyes held theblue of the cornflower. 

I tried to discover points of resemblance between her and the boy andsucceeded only when she turned her head in profile; then they were verymuch alike. He lowered his arm to look over it, and she watched himwithout changing her expression. 

With a hoarse cry he straightened and answering the impulse in his heart, sprang toward her, his arms outstretched to enfold her. She gave ground, not hastily as though wishing to avoid his embrace, but with a sinuoustwist of her lithe body, and she repulsed him by raising her hand. Hestared at her stupidly, and mumbled:

"You remember me. You called my name. You know I am your brother. You knowwe lived on Keeney's Knob. You remember the creek----"

"I remember, " she quietly interrupted. "A very long time ago. Very long. Iam a Shawnee now. My heart is red. "

Her words stunned him for a bit, then he managed to gasp out, "Who is thisman?" And he glared at the warrior seated at the foot of the tree. 

"My husband. "

The boy's mouth popped open, but without uttering a sound he stooped andgrabbed for his rifle. I placed my foot on it and seized his arm andpleaded with him to regain his senses before he took any action. Duringall this the warrior remained as passive as the tree-roots against whichhe half-reclined. 

After a brief hysterical outburst Cousin stood erect and ceased strugglingwith me. And all the time his sister had watched us speculatively, hergaze as cold and impersonal as though she had been looking at a rock. Itwas very hideous. It was one of those damnable situations which must endat once, and to which there can be no end. For the boy to kill hissister's husband was an awful thing to contemplate. 

I pulled the lad back and softly whispered:

"You can't do it. The blood would always be between you two. She haschanged. She believes she is red. Take her aside and talk with her. If shewill go with you make for the mountains and get her to the settlements. "

"An' him?"

"I will wait an hour. If you two do not return before an hour--Well, hewill not bother you. "

At first he did not seem to understand; then he seized my free hand andgripped it tightly. Taking his rifle, he approached the girl and took herby the arm. 

"Come, " he gently told her. "We must talk, you and I. I have hunted foryou for years. "

She was suspicious of us two, but she did not resist him. 

"Wait, " she said. 

She glided to the savage and leaned over him and said something. Then shewas back to her brother, and the two disappeared into the woods. 

I drew a line on the savage and in Shawnee demanded:

"Throw me the knife she gave you. "

Glaring at me sullenly, he flipped the knife toward the fire and resumedhis attitude of abstraction. I had never killed an unarmed Indian. I hadnever shot one in cold blood. The office of executioner did not appeal, but repulsive as it was it would not do for the boy to kill his savagebrother-in-law. Lost Sister and the savage were man and wife, even ifmarried according to the Indian custom. 

Nor would it do for a woman of Virginia to be redeemed to civilizationwith a red husband roaming at large. No. The fellow must die, and I hadthe nasty work to do. The glade was thickening with shadows, but thesunlight still marked the top of an elm and made glorious the zenith. Whenthe light died from the heavens I would assassinate the man. 

This would give him a scant hour, but a dozen or fifteen minutes of lifecould make small difference. Then again, once the dusk filled the glade myimpassive victim would become alert and up to some of his devilish tricks. He did not change his position except as he turned his head to gazefixedly at the western forest wall. One could imagine him to be ignorantof my presence. 

"Where does Black Hoof lead his warriors?" I asked him. 

Without deflecting his gaze he answered:

"Back to their homes on the Scioto. "

"The white trader, the Pack-Horse-Man, spoke words that drive them back?"

It was either a trick of the dying light, or else I detected an almostimperceptible twitching of the grim lips. After a short pause he said:

"The Shawnees are not driven. They will pick up the end of the peace-belt. They will not drop it on the ground again. Tah-gah-jute (Logan) does notwish for war. He has taken ten scalps for every one taken from his peopleat Baker's house. He has covered the dead. The Pack-Horse-Man spoke wisewords. "

"This white woman? You know she must go back to her people. "

Again the faint twitching of the lips. When he spoke it was to say:

"She can go where she will or where she is made to go. If she is taken tothe white settlements she will run away and go back to the Scioto. Herpeople are red. After the French War, after Pontiac's War, it was thesame. White prisoners were returned to the white people. Many of themescaped and came back to us. "

His voice was calm and positive and my confidence in the girl'swillingness to return to civilization was shaken. She had been as stolidas her red mate in my presence, but I had believed that nature wouldconquer her ten years' of savagery once she was alone with her brother. 

The light had left the top of the elm and the fleecy clouds overhead wereno longer dazzling because of their borrowed splendor. I cocked my rifle. The savage folded his arms as he caught the sound, but his gaze toward thewest never wavered. To nerve myself into shooting the fellow in cold bloodI made myself think of the girl's terrible fate, and was succeedingrapidly when a light step sounded behind me and her low voice was saying:

"My brother is at the spring. You will find him there. "

I rose and dropped the rifle into the hollow of my left arm and stared ather incredulously. It had happened before, the rebellion of whiteprisoners at quitting their captors. Yet the girl's refusal wasastounding. 

"You would not go with him?"

"I am here. I go to my people, " she answered. "He is waiting for you. Thesquaws would laugh at him. He is very weak. "

With an oath I whirled toward the Indian. Had he made a move or had hereflected her disdain with a smile, his white-red wife surely would havebeen a widow on the spot. But he had not shifted his position. To allappearances he was not even interested in his wife's return. And she toonow ignored me, and busied herself in gathering up their few belongingsand slinging them on her back. Then she went to him, and in disgust andrage I left them and sped through the darkening woods to the spring whereI had first seen the imprints of her tiny moccasins. 

Cousin was there, seated and his head bowed on his chest, a waiting victimfor the first Indian scout who might happen along. 

I dragged him to his feet and harshly said:

"Come! We must go. Your white sister is dead. Your search is ended. Yoursister died in the raid on Keeney's Knob. "

"My little sister, " he whispered. 

He went with me passively enough, and he did not speak until we had struckinto the main trail of the Shawnees. Then he asked:

"You did not kill him?"

"No. "

"It's best that way. There're 'nough others. They'll pay for it. "

I abandoned my plan of following the war-party farther and was onlyanxious to get my companion back to the protection of Howard's Creek. Wefollowed the back-trail for a few miles and then were forced by the nightto make a camp. I opened my supply of smoked meat and found a spring. Idid not dare to risk a fire. But he would not eat. Only once did he speakthat night, and that was to say:

"I must keep clear o' the settlements. If I don't I'll do as Ike Crabtreedoes, kill in sight o' the cabins. "

In the morning he ate some of my food; not as if he were hungry, but as ifforcing himself to a disagreeable task. He seemed to be perfectly willingto go on with me, but he did not speak of the girl again. 

When we drew near the creek he began to look about him. He at oncerecognized the surroundings and made a heroic effort to control himself. When we swung into the clearing there was nothing in his appearance todenote the terrible experience he had passed through. 

Now that we were back I was beset by a fear, that the sight of Patricia inall her loveliness would be an overwhelming shock to his poor brain. Itwas with great relief that I got him to the Moulton cabin without hisglimpsing Patsy. 

"You can tell 'em if you want to. S'pose they'll l'arn it some time, " hesaid to me as we reached the door and met Mrs. Moulton and her littlegirl. With that he passed inside and seated himself in a corner and bowedhis head. 

I drew Mrs. Moulton aside and briefly explained his great sorrow. Withrich sympathy she stole into the cabin and began mothering him, pattinghis shoulders and stroking the long hair back from his wan face. 

My own affairs became of small importance when measured beside thistragedy. I had no trepidation now in facing Patricia. I walked boldly tothe Davis cabin and thrust my head in the door. Only Davis and his wifewere there. 

"Where are the Dales?" I bruskly asked. 

"Gone, " grunted Davis in disgust. 

"Gone back home?" I eagerly asked. 

"What do you think!" babbled Mrs. Davis. "Cousin Ericus has took that galdown toward the Clinch. He 'lows now he's goin' to keep the Injuns out ofthat valley--"

"Good God! Why did you let them go?"

Davis snorted angrily, and exclaimed:

"Let 'em go! How ye goin' to stop her? 'Twas she that was bound to bemovin' on. Just made her daddy go. "

"When did they start?"

"Right after you lit out. Seems 's if th' gal couldn't git shut o' thiscreek quick 'nough. "

I ran from the cabin to get my horse and start in immediate pursuit. Bythe time I reached the animal, well rested during my absence, I becamemore reasonable. After all Black Hoof was traveling north. There would besmall chance of another band raiding down the Clinch for some time atleast. I needed rest. Night travel would advance me but slowly. I wouldstart early in the morning. 

CHAPTER VIII

IN ABB'S VALLEY

Orioles and mocking-birds sang in the openings, and startled deer fledbefore our advance as Shelby Cousin and I rode for the Clinch. The heat ofJuly was tempered by a breeze out of the north, and the heavens werefilled with hurrying white argosies. So it had ever been since the whiteman came to these pleasant ridges and rich bottom-lands; perfume, song, gracious valleys, and the lurking red evil. 

Cousin had regained his self-control overnight and outwardly appeared tobe thoroughly composed. He talked but little, and then only when I tookthe lead. I refrained from mentioning the tragedy of yesterday and the sunwas noon-high before he brought the matter up. 

"I couldn't kill that feller, " he abruptly informed me. 

There was no preface to indicate whom he meant, but I knew and noddedsympathetically. 

"An' I'd ruther kill him than all the rest o' the Injuns 'tween here 'n'Detroit, " he added after a long pause. 

"She will never come back to us?" I asked; for he had given no details ofhis interview with his sister. 

"She'll never come back. For a time I'd a mind to drag her away, but shewas so cold to me, so Injun-like in her way of lettin' me know it wouldn'tdo no good, that I give it up. You see she was only a child when captured. Women caught when much older'n her have gone for to choose a wigwam to acabin. "

"Do you wish I had shot him?"

"No. If it could happen in a open fight--that's different. It wouldn't doany good to hurt her by killin' him. But I wish he was dead!"

We stopped and ate and rode several miles before either of us spoke again. Then I said:

"There's a girl ahead, about your age. "

He was disturbed to hear it and I feared he would wish to leave me. 

"I don't want her captured by Indians, " I added. 

"God forbid it!" he hoarsely cried. 

Having prepared him for seeing Patricia, I shifted his line of thought byasking, "What do you think of John Ward?"

"Injun. "

I said nothing and after a few minutes he went on:

"Took by Injuns when a little boy, just like Tavenor Ross and GeorgeCollet was took. I've heard traders tell about the three of 'em. Whenthey're took so young they grow up just as much Injuns as if they was bornred. Ward's that way. Must be. Look at the sister I lost!"

"But Ward comes back to settlements. He even crosses the mountains. Hesays he escaped. "

"He wouldn't be travelin' round these parts if he was a' 'scaped prisoner. As for crossin' the mountains he might 'a' gone for to see what he couldsee. Cornstalk has spies all up an' down the frontier. I 'low them two wemet yesterday was bent on spyin'. God! That's a' awful thought! But Iain't got no sister. It was a red woman we seen. She 'n' her man wasspyin'. If not that why should they be makin' east into the mountains? I'low he was to stay hid while 'nother 'scaped prisoner rode down into somesettlement. "

From that speech on I do not remember that he spoke of his sister as beingany kin of his. When he must mention her he usually styled her, "Thatwoman who's turned red. "

To get his thoughts away from her I rattled on about my trip to Richfieldand told of my experiences in returning over the mountains. After I hadnarrated Hughes' quick action in saving me from an assassin's bulletCousin jerked up his head and said:

"Moccasin, one you give to that there young woman we're now followin'?"

I nodded, and he continued:

"I 'low it was John Ward who tried to pot you. He stole the moccasin andsneaked back an' laid the trap. Prob'ly laid it for whoever come alongwithout knowin' who would walk into it. You was mighty lucky to haveHughes there. " I had never connected Ward with that attempt on my life. 

"The Dales believe Ward to be what he pretends--an escaped prisoner, " Isaid. 

"Course they do, " sighed the boy. "The country's full of fools. After he'sled 'em to the stake an' they begin to roast they'll wake up an' reckonthat there's something wrong with his white blood. "

His matter-of-fact way of expressing it made my blood congeal. It wasunthinkable to imagine Patsy Dale in the hands of the Indians. I urged myhorse to a sharper clip, but Cousin warned me:

"No use hurryin'. Save your nag for the time when you'll need him mightybad. I 'low we can overtake 'em afore anything happens. "

We had discovered no fresh Indian-signs. Black Hoof and his braves werefar north of us. We knew scouts were ranging up the Clinch and Holston, and that the people were forting from Fort Chiswell to the head of theHolston, and that practically all the settlers had left Rich Valleybetween Walker's Mountain and the north fork of the Holston. 

Nearly all the settlers had come off the heads of Sandy and Walker'sCreeks and were building forts at David Doack's mill on the Clinch and onthe head waters of the middle fork of the Holston, as well as at GasperKinder's place in Poor Valley. 

Cornstalk must know the time was near when the whites would send an armyagainst the Shawnee towns north of the Ohio, and he was too cunning awarrior to risk sending many of his men into southwestern Virginia. BlackHoof was there with a large force, but he could not tarry without leavingthe Scioto towns uncovered. 

Therefore my opinion coincided with my companion's, once my first flurryof fear was expended. The Dales were in no immediate danger, and if anyhostile band was below New River it would be a small one. Once more Iallowed my horse to take his time. I began to find room for wondering howI was to overcome my embarrassment once we did come up with the Dales. 

Ericus Dale would rant and indulge in abuse. Patricia would be rememberingmy lack of faith in her father's influence over the natives. She wouldwant none of my company. But if Cousin and I could trail them unseen untilthey entered a small settlement at the head of the Bluestone, where theywould be sure to pause before making for the head of the Clinch, we couldpretend we were scouting far south and had met them by accident; then wecould ride on ahead of them. 

Their trail was simple to follow. The Dales were mounted and Ward wasafoot and leading a pack-horse. We came to their several camps, and ateach of these I observed the girl was wearing my moccasins. When Cousinwould behold the small imprint his face would twist in anguish. Poordevil!

For three days we leisurely followed them, and each sunrise found meentertaining fewer fears for the girl's safety. We timed our progress soas to pitch our last camp within a mile of the settlement in Abb's Valleyon the Bluestone, intending to reconnoiter it for signs of the Dalesbefore showing ourselves. 

The valley was about ten miles long and very narrow and possessingunusually fertile soil. It was named after Absalom Looney, a hunter, whoclaimed to have discovered it. Cousin informed me there were three cabinsand a small fort in the valley when he last visited it. At that time oneof the families was planning to cross the mountains and sacrifice thesummer's planting. 

"Mebbe they've all come off since then. Or them that's stayed may bekilled an' sculped by this time, " he added. 

"Whatever may have happened to the settlers is all finished by this timeand there can be no danger for the Dales, " I declared. 

"I 'low they're packin' their worst danger along with 'em, " he mumbled. 

"Meaning John Ward?"

"Meaning him, " was the terse answer. 

This set all my fears to galloping again, and they rode one another close. What if Ward were the creature Cousin pictured him? Then he must havedesigns on the Dales, and he would persuade them to travel in a directionwhich would lead them into a trap. If Ward were "red" he already hadplanned just where he would bag his game. 

Against this line of reasoning was our failure to discover fresh signs, and the fact that Black Hoof's band was making north. Then one fear drewahead of all others, and I was thrown into a panic lest Ward plotted tocount his coup unaided and would murder the trader and his daughter. Irose from the fire and announced my intention of proceeding to the valleysettlement that night. I told Cousin my fears. 

"That's just so much foolishness, " he told me. "If Ward's up to them sorto' tricks he'd 'a' made his kill when only a few miles from Howard'sCreek, when he was that much closer to Black Hoof's band. Then he'd 'a'sneaked north to j'in his red friends and dance his sculps. But we'vefound all their camps, and nothin' has happened. They're safe so far. "

It was near morning before I could sleep and I awoke at sunrise. Cousinwas missing. I investigated and discovered he had gone on foot, so Iassumed he was out to kill some meat to pack into the settlement. Iprepared something to eat and finished my portion and was kneeling todrink from a spring when I heard him coming through the woods. He wasrunning and making much noise, and I had a presentiment that somethingvery evil had happened. Before he came into view he called my namesharply. 

"All right! I'm here! What is it?" I answered. 

"Devil's come for his pay!" he snapped as he burst through the last of thegrowth. "Only two miles west fresh tracks of big war-party makin' south. They're makin' for Abb's Valley. That white-Injun devil fixed it up. Goin'to gobble the settlers along with your fool friends. If we can't stop 'emthey'll git every white in the valley sure's Sabba'day preachin'!"

Until that moment I had never dreamed of the exquisite torture that thethreat of an Indian raid could induce. I secured my weapons and mountedwithout realizing what I was doing. My first coherent thought was one ofamazement to behold Cousin stuffing smoked meat into his pack with onehand while the other held a tough morsel for his teeth to tear at. He atelike a famished wolf. 

"Can't fight without some linin', " he mumbled. "An' we'll take what's leftalong. May git in a corner an' have mighty little time for cookin'. "

I urged my horse into a gallop. Cousin tore after me, angrily calling onme to wait. I was in no mood to wait, and endeavored to get even morespeed out of my animal. Then Cousin brought me to my senses by yelling:

"All right! Kill 'em if you want to!"

I pulled in and he drove alongside, crying:

"First thing you know you'll be runnin' into a nest o' them devils. Theirpath and our path draws together an' enters the valley as one path. "

"But we must reach the valley ahead of them!"

"Can't be did, " he discouraged. "Best we can do is to sneak up on 'emwithout bein' seen. "

As a last hope I suggested:

"Perhaps after all they know nothing about the Dales. "

"They know 'bout Abb's Valley. It's Black Hoof's band. Made off north, then swung back down here, keepin' clear o' Howard's Creek. If they cleanout Abb's Valley they'll clean out the creek on their way home. "

Scant consolation in all this. It was a great relief to reach theBluestone and prepare for action. We spanceled our horses in a tinyopening well surrounded by woods. Cousin was familiar with the country andled the way. Instead of making for the mouth of the narrow valley wegained the end of one of its enclosing ridges and scouted along theslope. 

When we halted and Cousin carefully parted the bushes I observed we werebehind three cabins and high enough up the slope to see over them. Thevalley at this point was not more than fifty rods wide, and appeared to beeven less because of the long walls stretching away for ten miles. 

Some children were laughing at their play and were hidden from view aslong as they kept close to the door of the middle cabin. A dog wasgrowling and barking, but as he did not join the sport of the little oneswe concluded he was tied. One of the red cabins, that nearest to the mouthof the valley, did not appear to be occupied. 

Through the small window of the cabin farthest up the valley I glimpsedtwo persons moving about when they passed between the window and the opendoor. A few rods farther out toward the middle of the valley and nearerthe Bluestone than the unoccupied cabin, were the four walls of what hadbeen intended for a fort. It lacked the roof. For some reason the men hadsuspended work on it, being too few to complete it, or else deciding thecabins furnished sufficient protection. 

Three men, all strangers to me, now entered our line of vision as theywalked out from the shelter of the middle cabin. Cousin told me theirnames. The tall man with the long black beard was Granville, one of theoriginal settlers. He and his wife and two children, with Mrs. Granville'ssister, lived in the middle cabin. A short swarthy man was Nate Dicks. Hehad sent his family over the mountains and was staying behind to gatherthe season's crops, explained Cousin. The third man was along in years andwalked with a limp. 

"That's the old Englishman. All the name he goes by. No kin to any one onthis side the ocean, he says. He lives with the Granvilles. The emptycabin belonged to the Drakes. They pulled out early this spring. Dickslives in the t'other-end cabin. "

"I make out at least two people in there now, " I murmured. 

"They'll be the Dales. Dicks's prob'ly sleepin' in the Granville cabin. "

My heart behaved badly for a minute. 

"Listen to that pup!" softly exclaimed Cousin, his brows drawing down. "The fools have him tied up, an they ain't got sense 'nough to hark towhat he's tryin' to tell 'em. "

"We're here ahead of the Indians. Let's go down, " I urged. 

"Wait! Look across!" He pointed to the wall of woods opposite ourhiding-place. John Ward had broken cover and was stalking toward thecabins. The black cloth he wore around his head gave him a sinister, piratical appearance and his feet tracked like an Indian's. 

I would have descended the slope but Cousin clutched my arm, whispering:

"If there ain't no Injuns across the valley we can afford to wait a bit. If there is, our goin' down would hurry up their attack. It won't do tocall out an' scare 'em so they'll scatter. As they are now they can fortthemselves in the shake of a dog's tail. "

Two women, Mrs. Granville and her sister, now walked back of the middlecabin and picked up some wood. Both were barefooted, and I was closeenough to read the expression of constant fear on each face. As theystooped for the wood their gaze was continually roving over the woods onour ridge, and often their fingers fumbled for a fagot while their eyespersisted in examining the forest. 

Now Dale and Patsy emerged from their cabin and walked to meet Ward. Cousin groaned aloud as he beheld the girl. There was something in herappearance to remind him of his lost sister. Ericus Dale greeted Ward witha wide flourish of his hand. Ward was emotionless as a Shawnee chief. Granville and Dicks hurried to join the three, anxious no doubt to learnthe result of Ward's scouting. 

His report seemed to please the men, for Granville laid aside his rifleand began chopping a long log into fireplace lengths. Dicks walked towardthe middle cabin, lustily singing:

 "Ye patriot souls who love to sing, What serves your country and your king, In wealth, peace, and royal estate; Attention give whilst I rehearse A modern fact in jingling verse. "

This song, six or seven lengthy stanzas in all, was written by Mr. GeorgeCampbell, an Irish gentleman, and was popular along the frontier. It wassung to the tune of the Black Joke, and commemorated the successfulefforts of Captain James Smith to prevent Philadelphia traders fromsending weapons of war to the northwest tribes shortly after the treaty of1765 was concluded. 

Dicks was finishing the first stanza as he entered the cabin. He broke offsharply to rebuke the dog. Soon he came out with a bag. At about a hundredyards from the cabin, and farther up the valley than any of them, was thelick-block. Dicks was walking toward this. Several horses broke from thegrowth across the valley and ran toward the cabins. 

"Almost act like they was skeered, " whispered Cousin. 

"Coming in to be salted, " I corrected as the horses swerved and gallopedtoward the block. Dicks was ambling along slowly and reverting to hissong. The dog suddenly darted from the cabin and streaked after Dicks, apiece of rawhide trailing from his neck. As he ran he made a great outcry. Dicks was very angry to have his vocal efforts interrupted, and he haltedand swung the bag of salt in an attempt to hit the dog, all the whilecommanding him to go back. The horses were now at the block and steppingabout uneasily. 

"I never guessed that! Come on! Something will bu'st loose in a minute!"groaned Cousin. 

We started to slide down the bank, when a terrible tragedy took placebefore our eyes. As Dicks was emptying the salt on to the lick-block thehorses sprang back and bolted in alarm, and an Indian's topknot, decoratedwith wild-turkey feathers, bobbed up from behind the block. Dicks seemedto be paralyzed. The savage struck him with his ax and the unfortunate manwent down, dead before he lost his footing. In the next second the dog, ahuge brute of mongrel breed, cleared the block and closed his jaws on themurderer's neck. 

This was a signal for Cousin's prophecy to come true. A deafening chorusof howls burst from the woods opposite the cabins, and a volley of bulletsrained among the settlers. Mrs. Granville and the two children dropped. The old Englishman, standing nearer the cabins, staggered and turnedaround two or three times. Granville, unharmed, picked up the body of hiswife. 

The old Englishman was very brave, for he limped forward and managed togather up the children, one under each arm. Granville's sister waspractical enough to secure her brother-in-law's rifle and ax. The three, with their dead, made for the middle cabin. 

All this happened in the wink of an eye. The Dales and Ward, walkingtoward the end cabin when Dicks was killed, halted and stood as ifstupefied. None of the bullets had reached them. The girl seized herfather's arm and led him to shelter. He was unhurt, but he moved withshuffling steps, much like a tavern-loafer soggy from rum. 

We ran to enter the nearest cabin, which happened to be Granville's, butthe door was slammed and barred before we could round the corner. 

"In here!" sharply cried Cousin, darting through the doorway of the emptycabin. 

As I piled in after him I saw Patsy and Dale entering their cabin, butWard, the white Indian, was running to cover up the valley. And not asavage had shown himself with the exception of the one who had countedcoup at the lick-block. This fellow was still in sight and extremelybusy. 

With our door ajar we watched the ghastly struggle between the faithfulmongrel and the assassin. The Indian had lost his ax but had managed todraw his knife. The dog's teeth were buried in his throat before he couldget his blade loose. I raised my rifle but Cousin laughed and knocked itaside and cried:

"Let him make his kill! It's his coup!"

The warrior staggered clear of the block, his desperate plight blindinghim to all else. His eyes were protruding. He stabbed blindly. I cried outin pain as I saw the knife sink to the hilt. But the faithful beast hadlocked his jaws and the weight of his body was already ripping the redthroat open. Dead dog and dying warrior fell side by side. The dog hadcounted the first coup for the whites. 

Now we caught our first view of the enemy. A long line of Shawnees emergedfrom the woods, running and leaping and jumping from side to side, sinkingbehind stumps and vanishing behind the scattered trees. 

"We've got time to make the ridge back o' here, " spoke up Cousin. "We'sfools to come in here. S'pose we go. "

"You go! I must stick, " I told him. 

"We can do 'em more good out in the open than by bein' cooped up in here, "he quietly reasoned. 

"You go. I can't leave the girl. "

"Then bar the door, " he commanded. 

I did so, and through a loophole knocked over a savage who had paused inthe open to brandish a war-ax thickly decorated with either feathers orscalps. 

"Good! We'll make a fine fight of it!" grimly said Cousin as he steppedfrom a loophole at the back of the cabin. "It's too late for us to makethe ridge now. It's crawlin' with the vermin. "

His bearing was exceedingly cheerful as he posted himself at the front ofthe cabin, his double-barrel rifle ready for a snap-shot. He fired the twobarrels almost together, and laughed boisterously. 

"Two tryin' to hide behind one small tree, " he explained. "Got one deadan' sp'iled t'other. "

As yet not a shot had been fired from the other two cabins. A voice calledfrom the Granville cabin. I found a chink in the wall and beheld the faceof the Englishman peering from the small end window. 

"Who's there?" he kept demanding in a shrill voice. 

"Two white scouts. Get to shooting!"

He could not see me but he heard me, and vanished to help in the defense. Cousin had reloaded and was watching the valley closely. Bullets wereplunking into the log walls, but I knew none of the savages were exposingthemselves, else my companion would be shooting. From the Granville cabinseveral shots were fired without any effect so far as we could make out. Then again the Englishman was calling us. I went forward. 

"Hear what I say?" he cried. 

I answered that we could. 

"Ericus Dale says for us to stop shooting or he can't save us, " heinformed us. 

"He can't save himself!" I yelled back. 

"He thinks he can save all of us. "

"He couldn't save the man at the lick-block, " I reminded. 

"Aye. There's sorry truth in that. "

"This valley's a trap. John Ward, the white Indian, led him and hisdaughter into it, " I shouted. 

"God help and pity us!" he groaned. Then more calmly, "Ward came back fromthe woods this morning and said there were no signs of Indians. "

"He met them and talked with them, and planned how they should surpriseyou people. The warrior at the lick-block knew Dicks would discover him, so he showed himself and made his kill. "

"Aye. That is reasonable thinking. "

"What losses in there?" I asked. I thrust my knife-blade between the logsso he might know where I was standing and cease rolling his eyes in hisefforts to locate me. 

His old face screwed up in pain. 

"Mistress Granville and the two children, shot dead. Perhaps it's bestthat way. I'm wounded--that don't count. You going to keep on shooting?"

"As long as we can pull trigger. "

"I'll tell Granville. He wants to save his sister if he can. "

"Then he must fight. Tell him so, " I warned. 

I turned back to Cousin. He was scowling savagely through his peephole. "Take the back side 'n' watch for signs on the ridge, " he mumbled. "Themout front are huggin' dirt an' not tryin' to git nearer. They're waitin'for somethin'. "

At the back of the cabin I found a tiny chink and applied my eye. My firstthought was that a comet was streaming down into my face. The longwar-arrow, weighted with a blazing mass of pitch-smeared moss, stuck in alog a few inches below my peephole. From the ridge came a howl oftriumph. 

By thrusting my knife-blade through the hole and against the shaft of thearrow I managed to dislodge it, and it burned itself out against the hugebottom log. We did not fear fire until the arrows stuck in the roof. Thesame thought was in Cousin's mind. He did not look around, but he hadsmelled the smoke and he directed:

"Climb up an' work the roof-poles apart a bit so's you can knock 'em offthe roof when they land. "

I soon had the poles slightly separated in two places. As I finished adozen flying brands poured down on the Granville cabin and ours. One arrowlodged on our roof close to the eves. Two were burning on the ridgepole ofthe Granville cabin. The others either stuck harmlessly in the logs orovershot and stood so many torches in the ground. By means of the table Iscrambled back to the roof and managed to knock the menace to the ground. While I was thus engaged Cousin fired both barrels. 

"What luck?" I asked as I jumped to the floor. 

"Just bein' neighborly, " he growled as he rapidly loaded. "Shot them twoarrers off the next roof. "

Suddenly the savage howling ceased; nor were there any more fire-arrows. Then the Englishman began shouting. He was once more calling us. Ianswered and wriggled the knife-blade between the logs. Sure of myattention he loudly informed us: "Dale passes the word for us to stopfighting. Says he's going to save us. "

"To the devil with Dale!" snarled Cousin, showing his teeth like a wolf. 

"He's going out to talk with 'em, " added the Englishman. 

"Lord! What a fool!" lamented Cousin. 

"He's going now, " continued the Englishman. 

I darted to Cousin's side and peered out. We heard the bar drop from theend cabin; then Dale came into view, walking with a swagger toward theconcealed savages. In one hand he held up a string of white wampum. And ashe slowly advanced he shouted in the Shawnee language:

"Do my brothers fire on their brother? Do they harm their brother'sfriends? Does the Pack-Horse-Man ask his red brothers to be kind only tohave his words fall on dead ears? I bring you belts. My daughter in thecabin also brings belts to the Shawnees and Mingos and the Delawares. "

"Let our white brother come close, " called a deep guttural voice. 

"That'll be Black Hoof himself, " excitedly muttered Cousin, darting hisgaze over the valley in search of the stone or log which hid the greatchief from view. 

"Don't shoot! They'll butcher him if you do!" I warned. 

"They'll worse'n butcher him if I don't, " gritted Cousin. Yet he held hisfire, for the excellent reason he could see nothing to shoot at. 

"Tell your people not to fire, " again called Black Hoof's powerful voice. 

Dale faced the cabins and waved his white wampum, crying:

"I am saving your lives. You men in the lower cabin, throw down yourarms!"

"Like thunder!" grunted Cousin. 

"He's fairly among them!" I gasped. 

Dale had come to a stop and was turning his head and glancing from onepoint to another on the ground as he talked. His voice had its oldconfident ring, and there was a slight smile on his lips as he rehearsedhis friendship for the red people and reminded them how often he visitedtheir villages and smoked their pipes. 

When he ceased Black Hoof called out:

"We will lift a peace-pipe to our good friend, the Pack-Horse-Man. We willcover his friends with the smoke. Let him tell his friends not to beafraid and to throw down their guns. "

Dale was sure of Granville's and the Englishman's behavior, and headdressed his warning to Cousin and me, calling on us in a stentorianvoice to offer no resistance if we valued our lives. He ended by yelling:

"Catahecassa, war-chief of the Shawnees, spares your lives. "

Without giving us time to speak, he waved a hand and commanded:

"It's all right, Patricia! Come out!"

"Stay where you are!" I screamed, my voice muffled by the four stoutwalls. I jumped to tear the bar from the door, but Cousin hurled me aside, panting:

"Too late! God! To think such a woman should walk into their bloodytrap!"

His words sent me to the loophole. Patricia Dale was walking composedlytoward her father, her slim hands holding up her belts. She winced as shepassed the lick-block and got a glimpse of the dead savage and the deaddog. Then her gaze remained steady on her father's calm face. 

Black Hoof said something, but there was a pounding in my ears whichprevented me from hearing it. I guessed it, though, when Dale called out:

"All you who would be spared come out and leave your guns behind!"

He had barely spoken before the Englishman's voice excitedly called:

"You two scouts in there. "

I gave him heed and he informed me: "Granville and his sister say they aregoing out. Do you go out?"

"We shall stay here. It's better for you to die where you are, " I toldhim. 

"Ay, I think it's better myself. Well, I'm old and hungry to be with thechildren again. "

The Englishman was a brave man, and very sensible. He recognized Fate whenit paused to stare him in the eye. My companion was panting for breath andwas standing back so as to rest the muzzle of his rifle just inside theloophole. A glance revealed his deadly purpose. A tall warrior was now onhis feet. I knew him to be Black Hoof. I had seen him at Fort Pitt duringone of those rare lulls between wars. 

Cousin was fairly out of his head with the lust to kill the chief, but theShawnee took no chances. He was careful to keep the girl and her fatherbetween him and the cabins. I pushed Cousin's gun aside and fiercelyupbraided him for placing the Dales' lives in jeopardy. 

"You fool!" he cried. "They're gone already. Are you, too, blind? If youlove that gal out there and want to do her the greatest kindness a man canever do to a border woman, shoot her!"

Granville began shouting:

"Me 'n' my sister are comin' out. We surrender. Tell 'em, Mr. Dale! Godknows 'nough blood's been spilt. "

I heard their cabin door open. Then it closed with a bang and we heard theheavy bar drop into place. For a moment I believed they had changed theirminds; then they crossed our line of vision, the man walking ahead withempty hands held high, his sister walking behind and wildly waving a whitecloth. It was the Englishman, skeptical, because of our advice, whodropped the bar. 

Cousin began muttering under his breath. I soon discovered the reason. John Ward was approaching the group from the opposite side of the valleyand trying to keep some of the whites between him and our cabin. Thenearer he drew to the group, the easier this maneuver was. Ward had made ahalf-circuit of the valley and was advancing through the lines of hiddenbraves. Cousin would have tried a shot at the renegade if not for fear ofinstant reprisal on the girl. It was horrible to hear him curse and moanas he nursed the set of triggers. 

"Shut up!" I whispered. "Watch them close!"

I meant Granville and his sister; for as they entered the zone held by theenemy I observed a clump of low bushes dipping and swaying behind them. The woman saw something that frightened her, for she pressed close to herbrother and shook the white cloth toward the ground. The grotesque fancycame into my head that she would do the same thing if she wanted to shoosome chickens out of a garden. 

Granville and his sister walked up to Black Hoof, the woman still wavingthe cloth to make sure the chief beheld it and recognized its sacredcharacter. Dale turned to give Cousin, the Englishman and me one lastchance to save our lives; and the hideous work began. 

John Ward seized Patricia from behind, holding her by her arms as abulwark against our lead. Black Hoof with a lightning gesture raised hisax and struck Dale with the flat of it, sending him crashing to theground. Almost at the same moment two devils leaped from the ground andwith their axes struck Granville and his sister from behind. Black Hoofdropped behind his log the moment he struck Dale. 

Ward remained standing, sheltered by the girl. But the two who had killedGranville and his sister forgot us in their lust to secure the scalps. Igot one as he was kneeling on the man, and Cousin shot the other throughthe head before he could touch the woman. I shall never forget theterrible scream which burst from the lips of Patricia Dale. Then she wentlimp and her head sagged over Ward's arms, and he began to walk backwardwith her to the forest. 

I ran to the door and Cousin stuck out his foot and tripped me, and myhead hit against the logs, and for a minute confused me beyond thepossibility of action. When I would have renewed my efforts to pursue anddie in attempting the rescue of the girl Ward was dragging her into thewoods. Cousin's arm was around my neck, and as he pulled me back hepassionately cried:

"Will it help her to git killed? The ground's alive with 'em! You can'tmore'n show your head afore they'd have your hair!"

I got to a loophole and looked out. Several guns banged and the bulletspattered into the logs. There was no sign of life in the valley beyondthis scattering volley, however. Ward and the girl were gone. The deadIndian and dog were partly in view among the weeds beside the lick-block. The gown of the dead woman made a little patch of melancholy color againstthe green of the grass and ranker ground growth. Granville had beendragged behind some bushes to be scalped. I came near firing when I beheldtwo Shawnees making for the timber. 

"Fellers we potted, " murmured Cousin. "They've hitched cords to 'em an'are draggin' 'em to the woods so's no one'll git their hair. "

From the Granville cabin a gun roared loudly; and an Indian, clawing athis bloody breast, shot up in the heart of a clump of bushes and pitchedforward on his face. 

"Lawdy! But the Englisher must 'a' used 'bout a pint o' buckshot!"exclaimed Cousin admiringly. "Pretty smart, too! He traced the cord backto where th' Injun was haulin' on it, an' trusted to his medicine to makethe spreadin' buckshot fetch somethin'. Wish he had smoothbores an' a fewpounds o' shot!"

Yells of rage and a furious volley against the two cabins evidenced howthe enemy viewed the Englishman's success. Again the smoothbore roared anda handful of balls scoured another thicket. A warrior leaped from coverand started to run to the woods. Cousin shot him off his feet before hecould make a rod. 

Our admiration for the smoothbore and its wholesale tactics was beyondexpression. The Indians, also, thoroughly appreciated its efficacy, andthere was a general backward movement toward the woods. No savage showedhimself except for a flash of bronze leg, or the flutter of a hand, tootransient for even Cousin to take advantage of. The Englishman firedagain, but flushed no game. 

"We oughter be goin', " Cousin mused. "But the ridge behind us is stillalive with 'em. Reckon we must wait till it gits dark. "

"Wait till night? Oh, I can't do that!" I cried. 

"Your gal may be skeered to death, but she ain't been hurt any yet, " heencouraged. "She's safe till they git her back to the towns. Black Hoof istoo smart to hurt her now. If he gits into a tight corner afore he reachesthe Ohio he'll need her to buy an open path with. She ain't in no dangers'long as he wants her on hand to swap if the settlers git him penned. "

"No danger? And in the hands of that damned renegade!"

"Catahecassa is boss o' that band. Ward was only a spy. They may burn yourgal when they git back on the Scioto where every one can enjoy it. But shewon't be hurt any this side o' the Ohio. Our first job is to git clear o'this cabin an' valley. Then we must head those dogs off an' do the nextjob right. "

His words cleared my mind of madness. Instead of the dark forest, fortyrods away, marking the end of everything, I need not entirely despairuntil the girl reached the Scioto. 

"They've hitched a rope to Dale an' are draggin' him to the woods. Thedamn fool ain't dead yet. Black Hoof fetched him a crack with the flat ofhis ax, but they'll roast him to a frizzle by 'n' by if our medicine don'tfetch him out of it. "

The man had been grossly mistaken and I pitied him. I wondered what hewould think of the influence of trade on red heathens at war when heregained his senses! Surely he would learn the torments of hell when hebeheld his daughter a prisoner. 

The cabin was like an oven and the sting of powder-smoke made our eyeswater. Outside the birds were fluttering about their daily tasks. Highamong the fleecy cloud-bundles were dark specks which we knew to beturkey-buzzards, already attracted by the dead. For some time the onlysign of the enemy's presence was when three horses galloped down thevalley, running from the savages in the edge of the woods. As the animalsdrew near the cabins and showed an inclination to visit the lick-block avolley from the Indians sent one down. The other two dashed madly towardthe Bluestone. 

Cousin studied the ridge back of the cabin and failed to discover anysuggestion of the hidden foe. 

"Which ain't no token they ain't there, " he muttered. 

"If they hadn't scared the horses we could have caught a couple!" Ilamented. 

"We'd been shot off their backs afore we'd gone two rods, " assured mycompanion. "Let me show you. "

With that he took a big gourd from the corner and painted a face on itwith a piece of charcoal found in the fireplace. To a few small woodenpegs stuck in the top he made fast some long strings of tow, shredded outto resemble hair. Then he placed my hat on top of the gourd and the effectwas most grotesque. Yet from a distance it easily would be mistaken for ahuman face. 

It was a vast improvement on the old trick of hoisting a hat on a stick. His next maneuver was to enlarge one of the holes I had made in the roof. When he thrust his hands through the hole, as if about to draw himself up, he focused every savage eye on the back of the cabin roof. Through theopening he slowly pushed the gourd, topped by the hat and having long hairhanging down the sides. 

The decoy was barely in place before he was on the floor while a volley oflead and a flight of arrows rained against the roof. 

"I 'low that they're still there, " he said. 

"They'll wait till dark and then rush us. "

"They'll use fire-arrers first, " he corrected. "The Hoof has a poorstomick for losin' more warriors. He'll need lots o' sculps an' prisonersto make up for the men he's lost. He'll take no more chances. When it gitsdark they'll start a blaze on the roof. They'll creep mighty close withoutour seein' 'em. The minute we show ourselves they'll be ready to jump us. The chief is reckonin' to take us alive. The towns on the Scioto will needmore'n one stake-fire to make 'em forgit what this trip to Virginia hascost 'em. "

The business of waiting was most dreary. There was no water in the cabin, and the sweat from our hands would spoil a priming unless care was taken. At the end of this misery was almost certain captivity, ended by torture. Cousin had the same thought for he spoke up and said:

"I'll live s'long's there's any show to even up the score, but I ain'tgoin' to be kept alive no three days over a slow fire just to make somefun for them damn beggars. "

I watched the bar of sunlight slowly move over the rough puncheon floor. The time passed infernally slowly for men waiting to test a hopelesshazard. By all logic the minutes should have been very precious and shouldhave fairly flashed into eternity. The best we could reasonably wish forwas death in combat, or self-inflicted. Yet we cursed the heat, thebuzzing flies, the choking fumes of powder, the lack of water, and wishedthe time away. 

I wanted to open the door a bit for a breath of outside air. Cousinobjected, saying:

"We could do it, an' there ain't no Injuns near 'nough to play us anytricks. But they'd see the door was open, even if only a crack, and they'dknow we was gittin' desperate, or sufferin' a heap, an' that would tickle'em. I'm ag'in' givin' 'em even that bit of enjoyment. If we can make abreak when it gits dark afore the fire-arrers begin lightin' things upwe'll try for the Bluestone. If we could git clear o' this damn bottlewe'd stand a chance o' makin' our hosses. "

I glanced down at the floor, and my heart tightened a bit. The bar ofsunlight had vanished. 

"We've just 'bout come to it, " gravely remarked Cousin. "I ain't notalkin' cuss, but I'll say right here that I sorter like you, Morris. Ifthings could 'a' been different, an' I could be more like other folks, I'low we'd been good friends. "

"We're the best of friends, Shelby. As long as I can think I shallremember how you came with me into this trap to help rescue the girl. "

"Shucks! Don't be a fool!" he growled. "That ain't nothin'. Once I bu'stedup a Mingo camp to git my dawg. They'd caught the critter an' wascal'latin' to sculp him alive. Got him free, too, an' the damn pup wasthat stirred up by his feelin's that he couldn't tell who was his friends, an' he chawed my thumb somethin' cruel. "

He stepped to the loophole, and after peering out mumbled:

"Changin' mighty smart. "

I glanced out and the ridges were losing their outlines and the valley wasbecoming blurred. Cousin mused. 

"It'll be comin' right smart now. Don't overlook anything. "

We made a last examination of flints and primings, and Cousin softlyarranged the heavy door bar so it might be displaced with a singlemovement. He startled me by abruptly standing erect and cocking his headto one side and remaining motionless. 

"The old Englishman!" he exclaimed. "He ain't fired a shot, or tried totalk with us for a long time. "

I went to the front end of the cabin and put my eye to the peephole. Thesmall window showed black. I called to him several times and received noanswer. There was only one conclusion. A chance ball through a loophole ora window had killed the old fellow. Cousin agreed to this. A signal at themouth of the valley brought us to our toes. It was about to begin. Thesignal was answered from the ridge behind us. 

"They've put the stopper in the bottle, " Cousin whispered. "But here's anidea. The upper cabin, where the Dales was, is empty. If we could sneak inthere without bein' seen we'd have the slimmest sort of a chance to duckback to the ridge while they was shootin' their fire-arrers at this cabin. There would be a few minutes, when the first flames begin showin', whenevery eye would be on this place. If we could only reach the flank o' theridge we'd be fools if we couldn't dodge 'em. "

This appealed to me as being excellent strategy. Knowing the Dales' cabinwas empty, the Indians would not think of paying it much attention atfirst. To leave our shelter and make the short distance would requiredarkness. Our greatest danger would be from the Indians on the ridge backof us. By this time they were lined up at the foot of the slope and wereall ready to break from cover. 

In our favor was the Granville cabin, which would shelter us from theridge for a bit of the perilous way. Already it was possible, I decided, to crawl the distance without being detected by the enemy across thevalley. Cousin refused to run the risk, and argued. 

"Every minute gained now gives us that much more of a chance. The Injunsout front ain't all across the valley any more. They begun creepin' intothe clearin' the minute it begun growin' dark. Reckon it's time theyl'arned who's cooped up in here, so's they won't git too bold. "

He removed the bar of the door and through the crevice sounded histerrible war-cry, the scream of a panther. It stabbed the dusk withear-splitting intensity. 

"There! They'll stop an' count a dozen afore gittin' too close, " hemuttered as he softly replaced the bar. "They'll lay mighty low an' won'tbother to do much but watch the door. I 'low it'll be hard work to crawlout without they guessin' somethin's wrong. "

"Then let's rip up the floor and dig a hole under the logs, " I suggested. 

"We'll do that, " he quietly agreed. 

As cautiously as possible we removed several of the puncheon slabs next tothe wall. The base logs were huge fellows and held the floor several feetfrom the ground. To excavate a hole under either of the four would haverequired more time than we believed we had to spare. Our plan threatenedto be hopeless until Cousin explored the length of the log with hisfingers and gave a little cry of delight. He found a hole already dug nearthe front end of the cabin. It had been the work of the dog. Working withour hunting-knives we loosened the dirt and pawed it behind us and made itlarger. At last Cousin pressed me back and ducked his head and shouldersinto the hole. Then he drew back and whispered:

"I can git my head an' shoulders through. 'low I could squirm out o' hellif I could git my shoulders through. I'll go ahead an' you pass out therifles. Ready?"

I pressed his hand. There followed a few moments of waiting, then ahandful of dirt fell into the hole and informed me my companion hadsqueezed clear of the log and that the ultimate test was to be faced. Ipassed the rifles, butts first, and felt them gently removed from mygrasp. Working noiselessly as possible I soon squirmed out into therefreshing evening air and lay motionless. Cousin was ahead and alreadyworming his way toward the third cabin. My outstretched hand touched thebutt of my rifle, and I began creeping after my friend. 

I nearly suffocated in crawling by the opening between our cabin and theGranville cabin, for I scarcely ventured to breathe. It seemed as if anyone within pistol-shot of me must hear the pounding of my heart. Thesilence continued, and at last I was hugging the ground at the end of thecabin and for the time sheltered from spying eyes at the foot of theridge. 

A quavering cry rang out at the mouth of the valley. This time it wasanswered from the clearing on our right as well as from the ridge. TheIndians had crept closer, just as Cousin had predicted. 

Half a minute passed, then the signal sounded directly ahead of us, orfrom beyond the Dales' cabin. The circle was completed. From the ridgesoared a burning arrow. It fell short, landing behind the cabin we hadvacated. As it gave off no light I surmised it went out on striking theground. 

Cousin drew away from the end of the Granville cabin and was risking thesecond and last gap. I hurried a bit, fearing more arrows. As I cameabreast of the door I wondered what had become of the Englishman. Eitherthe night was playing a trick, or else the door was partly open. I reachedout my hand to learn the truth, and touched a cold hand hanging limplyover the threshold. 

My nerves jumped, but I mastered them by reasoning that the Englishman hadbeen shot by a chance ball and had attempted to leave the cabin, thinkingto gain our shelter and to die there. Death had overtaken him as he wasopening the door. That it was the Englishman's hand I had touched wasevidenced by the shirt-sleeve, puckered in at the wrist. 

I released the poor hand and was resuming my way when a slight soundcaused me to hold my breath. Then a heavy weight landed on my back, knocking the breath from my lungs with an explosive grunt. Next, the nightwas ripped from horizon to horizon with a jagged streak of red. 

CHAPTER IX

DALE ESCAPES

When I recovered my senses I was being dragged over the ground by means ofa cord around my chest and under my arms. My wrists were lashed togetherand my ankles were likewise secured. The first thing my eyes beheld werethe red loopholes and window of the lower cabin, and the flames crawlingthrough the two holes I had made in the roof. 

My capture had revealed our desertion of the cabin, and the Indians hadlost no time in entering and firing it. Smoke and flames were pouring fromthe end window of the Granville cabin also. As the red tongues lickedacross the top of the doorway they threw into relief the arm and hand ofthe old Englishman still hanging over the threshold. 

My head felt as though it was cracked wide open and it throbbed mostsickeningly. I managed to lift it a bit to escape further bruises as mycaptor roughly hauled me to the forest. The third cabin, the one occupiedby the Dales, burst into flames as I was being yanked into the firstfringe of bushes. The valley was now brightly lighted, and my last view ofit included the lick-block. One phase of a successful Indian raid wasmissing; there were no warriors madly dancing about the burning homes. Farup the ridge rang out the infuriated cry of a panther, and I knew it wasfear of young Cousin's deadly rifle that was keeping the savages undercover. 

"Let me stand up and walk, " I said in Shawnee. 

"Alive are you?" growled a white man's voice in English. 

"You'll be John Ward, " I said as some one lifted me to my feet. 

"I am Red Arrow, a Shawnee. And don't you forget it. "

"Where are the Dales?" I asked. 

"Keep your mouth shut!" he ordered. 

They untied my hands only to fasten them behind me. They shifted thewaist-cord to my neck, and then released my feet. Some one walked ahead, pulling on the cord, and I followed as best I could to escape beingstrangled. On each side of me walked a warrior, invisible except as whenwe crossed a glade where the starlight filtered down. Ward walked behindme, and warned:

"Any tricks and you'll get my ax. "

"You were in the cabin with the dead Englishman?"

He chuckled softly and boasted:

"I killed him. When you two were fighting fire I got my chance to stealdown to the Dale cabin. Then it was easy to make the Granville cabin. Theold fool thought I was one of you when he heard my voice, and drew thebar. I was inside and had his life before he knew he had made a mistake. Iwaited. Then you crawled along. Curse that damned young devil who yellslike a panther! He was the one I wanted. I'd give a thousand of such asyou to get his hair! But he got by the door without my hearing him. Alittle more, and you'd have passed, too. "

There was much crashing and running through the bushes behind us, andoccasionally I could make out dark shapes hurrying by. These were thewarriors who had fired the cabins, and now they were in haste to leave thespot. Owing to their fear of Cousin they dared not leave the valley exceptas they did so under cover. We made good time through the woods, however, although more than once my gasping cry warned Ward, or one of the savagesat my side, that I was being choked to death. 

As a premature demise was not on their program the cord was quicklyloosened each time, and the man ahead warned to be more careful. Thesepartial strangulations resulted from the fellow's anxiety to escape fromthe neighborhood of the double-barrel rifle. On reaching the Bluestone wehalted while the savages collected their horses. From the few wordsexchanged I estimated that half the band was mounted. Without building afire or eating we started up the Bluestone. Neither Black Hoof nor theDales were with our party when we halted at daybreak. We paused only longenough to bolt some half-cooked deer-meat. I asked for the trader and hisdaughter, and Ward laughed and shook before my face the scalps he hadtaken in the Granville cabin. Two of them were pitiably small. 

"You scalp other men's kills, " I observed. 

"You'll not say that when I scalp you. "

"What does Dale now think of his Indian friends?"

This seemed to amuse him tremendously, and he laughed like a white man. 

"He doesn't seem to know what has happened, " he finally replied with muchrelish. "He stares at us, then at the girl, as if trying to understand. "

"What about the girl?"

"That's enough. Keep still, " he warned, and made a threatening gesturewith his ax. 

My hands, which had been released long enough for me to eat, were trussedup again. My rough usage and the travel had worn on me, but I had nodesire to rest so long as Patricia Dale was to be found. My captors alsohad a definite plan--one that demanded haste. By daylight I perceived bythe signs that the greater number of the band had gone ahead, probablyunder the lead of Black Hoof. 

Unless the Dales had been butchered in the woods they must be with thechief; and I could not believe they were dead. They would be too valuableas hostages should the settlers gather in force to block the Shawnees'return to the Ohio. Those of the Indians who had horses, with theexception of two, rode off. One of the mounted men to remain was Ward, whocame behind me. The other was the Indian holding the cord. 

It was plain that every savage in the band was eager to advance with allpossible haste, nor was it fear of Cousin that was now driving them. Finally my aching head understood it all; the Howard's Creek settlementwas to be attacked and the savages afoot were afraid they would arrive toolate to participate. 

On our left rose the wall of Great Flat Top Mountain, a short chain, inreality a continuation of Tug Ridge. On the right rose ridge after ridgeof the Alleghanies, punctuated by Peter's Mountain, where New River burstthrough the wall in its quest for the Ohio. A wild land, and yet birds, bees and deer were here, and the soil was ripe for happy homes. 

I managed to keep up until after midday, when my legs suddenly refused tocarry me farther. I told Ward to tomahawk me if he wished, but that I mustrest before moving another step. There was no question as to hisinclination, for his brown hand fondled his ax most longingly. Hedismounted and boosted me on to his horse. The rest of the day was coveredwith me riding first Ward's and then the savage's animal. 

We camped at dusk that night, and I was too exhausted to swallow more thana few mouthfuls of food before falling asleep. Before sunrise we were upand hurrying through the gray mists and reversing the route Cousin and Ihad followed on traveling to the valley. I recognized several of the campswhere the Dales and Ward had halted when the brute was leading them intothe death-trap. 

"You nearly got me by dropping the girl's moccasin in the mountains, " Iinformed him. 

The abruptness of the accusation took him off his guard. With a wide grinhe said:

"Stole it from her just before we entered the settlement. Saw Hughesstriking into the hills and planned to catch him. But he got too far aheadfor me to ride around him. Dogged him until he met you, then rode back andlaid my trap. Hughes was the man I was after. His hair would count for adozen scalps like yours. "

"But you didn't care to try a shot unless it could be from behind and sureto kill, " I taunted. 

"You'll pay a high price for that, " he quietly assured me. "The chief saysyou are to be brought in alive. We will soon see how brave you are withthe girl looking on. Men should be very brave men when their squaws arewatching. "

I was afoot and walking at his side. I lowered my head and tried to butthim from the saddle. He kicked me in the chest and the warrior yanked onthe cord and threw me down on my face and all but strangled me. After thatWard and I had no more words. He rode either ahead, or some distancebehind, leaving one of the Indians to walk at my heels. I have no doubt hedid this to avoid any temptation to brain me. I lost track of time, for wetraveled far into the night when the footing was good. We snatched a fewhours' sleep when absolutely necessary and fed indifferently. When I couldwalk no farther I was placed on one of the two horses. I hoped that Cousinin escaping from Abb's Valley had taken our horses with him; and I prayedhe would reach Howard's Creek ahead of Black Hoof. 

At last we came to the outskirts of an Indian camp, which I estimated tobe within less than half a mile of the creek settlement. A dozen warriorsswarmed forward to greet us, welcoming me with exaggerated courtesy. Whilethey were thus mocking me Black Hoof appeared, moving with great dignity, and dispersing my tormentors with a gesture. 

I was led into the camp and my cord made fast to a tree. There was no airof triumph about the place. A warrior reclining on a pile of boughs andnursing a shattered shoulder suggested a futile attack on the cabins. Iglanced about for a display of fresh scalps and rejoiced at beholdingnone. 

The Indians stared at me malevolently, but offered me no abuse. Wardproudly flourished the hair he had retrieved from the Granville cabin, andthe trophies were soon fastened to a tall pole and paraded around thecamp, after which demonstration the pole was stuck upright in the ground. 

It required a second examination of the place to locate Dale. Like myselfhe was tied to a tree with sufficient length of cord to permit him to liedown. His face was heavy with unspeakable horror. When he met my gaze hedid not seem to recognize me at first. Then he muttered:

"You, too!"

My heart ached when I failed to discover any trace of Patricia. Before Icould question the trader, Ward yanked me to my feet and turned me about, and I found myself looking into the eyes of Black Hoof. 

"The young man made a very brave fight, " he said. 

"It is sad to know a skunk and not a Shawnee warrior captured me, " Ireplied. 

Ward glared murder at me. Black Hoof gave him a warning glance, andinformed me:

"Red Arrow is a Shawnee warrior. Very brave. Very cunning. He will help ustake the cabins on the creek. "

"You have tried once?" I asked, glancing at the man with the brokenshoulder. 

The chief's brows contracted. 

"Some of my young men were very foolish, " he replied. "When Catahecassatries, the first time will be the last. "

From the direction of the settlement came the scream of a panther, and atthe sound the camp seemed to stir uneasily. With a fiery glance at thewarriors Black Hoof gave an order, and a score of men glided into theforest. To me he quietly said:

"There was a panther's whelp in the little valley we did not get. TheShawnees would dance his scalp ahead of all the hair growing in any ofthese valleys. He rode to the settlement ahead of me. But we shall getthem now. We shall get him. Then we will see if his war-cry is strong whenhe feels fire. "

"Where is the white woman? Did you kill her?" I asked, and I had to fightmyself to keep my voice from shaking. 

Without deigning to answer he turned and walked over to Dale. At almostthe same moment Patricia and Shelby Cousin's sister entered the camp. Patricia walked ahead, the Cousin girl a few feet behind her. I forgot thecord and eagerly started to join her. 

Ward snarled like an animal and jerked on the cord and pulled me violentlyback. Patricia glanced in our direction, and I saw her hand fly to herheart as she stared at me with lips parted. Black Hoof noticed this bit ofdrama, and wheeling about, he harshly commanded:

"Let Red Arrow remember I am chief. If the white man would talk to thewhite woman do not stop him. See that his hands are well tied and puthobbles on his legs. "

"If I had my way with you!" hissed Ward. 

An Indian slipped the cord from the tree and with it trailing behind me Ihurried to the girl. She dropped on a log, her face a white mask ofterror. Cousin's sister remained a few paces behind her. Her face wasexpressionless, but she did not remove her gaze from Patricia. PerhapsPatsy was the first white woman she had seen whose freshness suggested herown youth. Recognizing my desire to talk with the prisoner she withdrew, keeping in sight but out of hearing. 

"At least they have not tied you, " I said. 

"I go and come as I will, " was the listless answer. 

"With the woman to watch you?"

"Not if I want to be alone. "

"You mean you are free to go and come unwatched?" I demanded. 

She nodded her head. 

"Then why haven't you tried to make the settlement? It is near. Listen. Shelby Cousin is here. The Indians can't afford the time it will take tocapture the place. Walk along into the woods. Go due east. By God's graceI believe you can make it!"

"Basdel, you forget, " she sorrowfully reproached. "You forget my father ishere. That is why they give me my freedom. "

"He would rejoice and thank God if you would do as I say. "

"But the Indian woman with the blue eyes has told me in English that if Irun away they will hurt him terribly. "

Poor child! As if her presence could save Ericus Dale from dying the deathonce Black Hoof found time to indulge in his favorite pastime. Ivehemently begged her to flee, promising all sorts of absurd things if shewould but do so, even to assuring her I would effect her father'srelease. 

She slowly shook her head, tempted not the least by my pleas. 

"Even the Indians know me better than that. And to think we trusted them!Oh, Basdel, it doesn't seem possible! You were right. Father was wrong. God help him! And now they have taken you!"

"All will be well yet, " I faltered. 

"Yes, all will be well, " she gently said. "All will be well, when we aredead and at peace. "

"Patsy! Patsy!" I begged. "Don't give up hope. Don't lose your courage!Why, there's a dozen chances for us to fool these devils. "

She patted my tied hands, and murmured:

"You're a good boy, Basdel. You were patient when I abused you. You toldme the truth. I am out of place out here. If I were a pioneer woman Icould help you plan to escape, but I am only a silly fool from over themountains. I am absolutely helpless. But you've been good to me, Basdel. You followed me into that horrible valley. You were caught because youtried to help us. Oh, the shame of it! The hideous cruelty of it! That youwere caught--Basdel, I pray my last thought will be about your goodness tome. Just that. "

She was at the limit of her endurance and I backed away and Cousin'ssister glided forward. I flogged my mind for a scheme of escape whichwould include her; her father, if possible. But it was as she had said;she was no pioneer woman, resourceful and daring. The Shawnees saw herhelplessness, else they never would have allowed her the freedom of thecamp and surrounding woods. 

They knew she would never leave her father, and that she lacked the borderwoman's daring initiative so necessary in any attempt to free him. As Iwas casting about for some plan to save her Black Hoof glided to my sideand took me by the arm and led me toward the tree where Dale was lying. 

This closer inspection of the trader revealed how fearfully he hadsuffered in his mind. The flesh of his strong face hung in folds as if hisskin had suddenly become many sizes too large for him. His eyes hadretreated deeper into the sockets, and his thick lips, once so firm anddomineering, were loose and flabby. Black Hoof stirred him contemptuouslywith his foot. Dale dragged himself to a sitting posture and beganshivering as if suffering from ague. 

"Oh, my God, Morris!" he groaned. 

"The Pack-Horse-Man can save his life, " sententiously began Black Hoof. 

"My daughter?" gasped Dale, rising on his knees. 

"He shall save his daughter's life, " added the chief. 

Dale moistened his lips and tried to recover some of his old spirit. 

"Never mind, Morris. Give me a little time. I'll get us all out of thisfix. They're angry now. When they've had time to think they'll bereasonable. If they kill me, they'll kill their trade with the whites. " Itwas the first time I ever heard him pronounce the word without stressingit. 

Black Hoof glowered at the miserable man ferociously and said:

"You will go to the edge of the clearing with my warriors. You will speakto the settlers and tell them they shall save their lives if they put downtheir guns. After they put down their guns you and your daughter shall gofree. "

The picture of Abb's Valley and the result of his trusting in theShawnees' promises must have flashed across the unhappy man's mind. Hesank, feebly moaning:

"No, no! Not that! The blood of the Granvilles--the little children--is onme. Kill me, but I'll lead no more into your trap. "

These were brave words even if brokenly voiced. But Black Hoof heard withgrim amusement in his small black eyes. 

"You weak-hearted dog!" he hissed. "So you tell Catahecassa what he willand what he will not, do. Ho! You fat white man who always planned tocheat the Indians in a trade. You fill your ears against Catahecassa'swords? Ho! Then you are a brave man. The Shawnees have been blind not tosee your brave heart. Now, white trader, hear my talk. You will do asCatahecassa says, or you will be tied to a tree and your daughter shall beput to the torture before your eyes. "

With a terrible cry Dale fell over on his side and remained unconscious. There was a second shriek, and the girl was pushing Black Hoof aside asshe hastened to kneel by her father. The chief darted a glance ofadmiration at her for her display of courage. The girl was blind to ourpresence as she fondled and petted the stricken man until he opened hiseyes. Black Hoof was pleased to have her there as a means of breaking downthe trader's will. Leaning over her shoulder to stare down into theterrified eyes of his victim the chief warned:

"Unless the settlers give themselves up it shall be as I have said. Itmust be before the sun goes down. Tell her all I have said. "

With that he dragged me back to my tree. For a few minutes the chief'shorrible threat dulled my mind to the point of stupidity. He waited for meto collect my thoughts. At last I managed to ask:

"What you said back there was a trick of course? You would never torturethe daughter of the Pack-Horse-Man?"

"Unless he does as told she must die, " he calmly assured me. "She will diesoon anyway. She is not strong enough to live our life, like the blue-eyedsquaw over there. " And he glanced toward Cousin's sister. "Her childrenwould be neither red nor white. They would have squaw-hearts. If thetrader does not speak words that will bring the settlers from their cabinswith empty hands she shall be tortured until he does speak. "

I do not remember falling, yet I found myself on the ground, and BlackHoof had departed. In his place stood Ward, staring at me curiously. 

"You went down as if hit with an ax, " he grunted. 

"My legs are weak from hard travel and poor food, " I said. 

Patricia Dale passed quite close to us, a gourd of water in her hands. Shewas carrying it to her father. Ward exclaimed in English:

"What a woman!"

His brawny figure seemed to dilate and he made a queer hissing noise as helooked after her. Turning to me he hoarsely said:

"I was born white. It's her blood that calls me. When I saw her in Salem Isaid I would have her for my squaw if I could get her and her fool of afather into the mountains. "

My mental paralysis lifted. 

"Is she promised to you?" I asked. 

"I am to have any two prisoners to do with as I like, " he answered. "Catahecassa said that when I started to enter the villages beyond themountains to get news. There was little chance of bringing any whitesback, but if I did I was to have two of them. "

"Then you had better remind your chief of his promise, " I warned. "He sayshe will torture the girl before her father's eyes if the father does nothelp in betraying the settlers. "

"Ugh! I have his promise. He dare not break it. "

The girl would kill herself before submitting to Ward's savage caresses. She would go mad if forced to witness the torture of her father. I hadseized upon Ward's passion as a means of gaining a bit more time. If hecould successfully claim the girl then she must be rescued from him. Butviewed from any angle I could find nothing but horrors. 

Release by death would be very kind. If any harm were suffered by the girlI should lose my reason; my life, if God were merciful. No longer did ourtime of grace extend to the Scioto villages. At any moment our littledestinies might come to a fearful ending. In my soul I railed at the curseof it. Such a little way to go, and so much pain and sorrow. 

Ward left me and strode up to the chief. They talked rapidly, and I couldread from Ward's mien that he was very angry. When he returned to me hewas in a rare rage. 

"Catahecassa dodges by saying you and the trader are the two prisoners Imust take. He says he will burn the girl unless the trader makes the talkas told. If I can find a way of capturing the settlers the girl will begiven to me in place of either you or her father. "

"I don't want to be your prisoner, " I said. 

"I do not believe you do, " he agreed. "But I would take you if I did notneed the trader. If the girl refuses to become my squaw then I will builda little fire on Dale's back. That will make her accept my belts. "

He left me with that thought in my mind. On the one hand the girl was tobe utilized in forcing Dale to betray the settlement. On the other, thetrader was to be used to make the girl submit to the renegade. I could notimagine a more horrible situation. I was still wallowing deep in my hellwhen the camp became very active. Dale was lifted to his feet and hiscords were removed. 

The time had come for Black Hoof to try him as a decoy. There remained agood hour of light. Patricia, not understanding, yet fearing the worst, hovered about her father, her eyes wildly staring and her whole appearancedenoting a weakening of her reason. As they started to lead her fatherinto the woods she attempted to follow him, and Black Hoof pushed herback. Cousin's sister spoke up, saying:

"I will keep her. "

The warriors disappeared in the direction of the settlement. The two womenleft the camp on the opposite side. Ward went along with the Indians, andI knew this was my golden opportunity to escape. Before I could make abeginning at freeing my hands a noose fell over my head and clutched at mythroat. The guards were taking no chances. 

Great mental anguish is accompanied by no clarity of thought and graves noconnected memories on the mind. I know I suffered, but there are onlyfragments of recollections covering that black period of waiting. 

I have a clear picture of the warrior holding the end of the cord callingfor some one to bring a gourd of water. I do not remember drinking, but aslater I found the front of my shirt soaked I assume the water was for me. Coherent memory resumes with the noise the warriors made in returning tothe camp. I shall never forget their appearance as they emerged from theundergrowth. Black Hoof walked ahead. Close behind him came two warriorsdragging Dale. 

I was amazed to behold Patricia in the procession. She was leaning on LostSister's arm, and there was a lump on her forehead as though she had beenstruck most brutally. Then came the warriors and Ward. Dale was roughlythrown to the ground. Several men began trimming the branches from a stoutsapling. Others became busy searching the fallen timber for dry wood. 

Ward walked over to me and kicked me in the side. I must have groanedaloud, for he commanded:

"Shut up! I'm ripe for a killing. "

Matters had gone against his liking. He played with his ax nervously, hisbaleful gaze darting about the camp. I waited and at last his raceheritage compelled him to talk, and he commenced:

"The old man was scared into doing what the chief told him to do. He wouldnot at first, and the men were sent to bring the girl along. When he facedher he made a noise like a sheep bleating. Then he ran to the clearing andbegan his talk. The girl heard his words. She broke away and ran intosight of the cabins and screamed for them not to listen, that it was atrap. Black Hoof struck her with the flat of his ax. Now he swears he'llroast the fool. "

"She is your prisoner!" I cried. 

"He says she must burn. "

"There must be some way, something you can do!" I wildly insisted, my onlythought being to spare her the immediate danger. 

"I want her for my squaw bad enough to get her if I can, " he growled. "Butif I'm to think of any plan I must be quick. They've got the stake nearlyready. "

He walked to where the warriors were collecting small fuel from betweenthe fallen trees. One of them hauled a hollow maple log out of the débrisand threw it to one side as being too heavy for a quick fire. Ward haltedand rested a foot on it and bowed his head. Next he began tapping it withhis tomahawk. His actions attracted the attention of the men, and BlackHoof asked:

"What does Red Arrow think is in the log? A snake?"

Ward startled the savages, and also me, by curtly replying:

"He sees a white man's cannon in the log. The fort holds all the settlerson the creek. Its walls are stout. If they can be broken down the Shawneeswill take many scalps and prisoners. It will be an easy victory. BlackHoof's name will be repeated far beyond Kaskaskia and the Great Lakes inthe North. He will be given many new war-names. "

Black Hoof's eyes glittered as he pictured the glory and prestige thehollow log might confer upon him. He examined the log carefully andperceived only that it was hollow. 

"Have you medicine to make it into a cannon?" he asked. 

"I have big medicine. Before it will work for me I must be given the whitesquaw. There must be no taking back of the gift. If the medicine-cannondoes not give the settlers into our hands still the white squaw must bemine to do with as I will. "

Black Hoof took some minutes to ponder over this proposition. He couldonly see a hollow log. Ward's intellect permitted him to see greaterpossibilities. While he waited for the chief to make a decision heexamined the maple more thoroughly, and smiled quietly. 

Black Hoof at last said:

"Catahecassa gives the white woman to the Red Arrow. Tell your medicine tomake the big gun shoot. "

Ward was exultant. To the wondering savages he explained:

"It must be bound tight with much rawhide. Small stones must be packedtight in the butt-end. I will make a hole for the priming. Then we willdraw it to the clearing and load it with powder and rocks. "

This simple expedient, superior to the best plans of the Indians, wasgreeted with yells of triumph. The chief said:

"Red Arrow is a medicine-man. "

The wooden tube was reinforced under Ward's directions. This done, thesavages danced and whooped about the grotesque cannon for some minutes. Ward stood with folded arms, his gaze gloating as it rested on the girl, and haughty with pride as he observed Black Hoof's respectful bearing. Coming back to me he said:

"You wanted that woman. You will die among the Shawnees. You showed youwanted her when you followed her into that valley. Her father spoke of youand by his words I knew you wanted her. Now I have her. "

The girl came forward, attracted by Ward's speech to me, although shecould understand none of it. She drew aside in passing the renegade anddropped on her knees at my side. 

"What do they plan? What will they do with me?" her dry lips demanded. 

Ward, enraged by her show of aversion, seized her by the shoulder, rippingthe cloth, and dragged her to her feet, and informed her:

"Catahecassa ordered his men to burn you. I made him give you to me. Youare my woman. You are lucky I am not a red man. "

"No! No! I'll burn, you monster! I'll burn a hundred times, " she panted. And she struck her hand into his face, whereat the savages shouted inmerriment. 

I believed he would kill her then and there, for he groaned aloud fromrage and raised his ax over his head. 

"Strike me!" she begged, facing the uplifted ax unflinchingly; andalthough not of the border she displayed the fine courage of the WidowMcCabe and other frontier women. 

With a whimpering, bestial note Ward managed to say:

"No! You shall live, and many times beg me to kill you. But you shallstill live till I trade you to some red hunter. "

"I will kill myself some way before you can harm me!" she defied. 

Ward slowly lowered his ax and began chuckling. He told her, pointing tome:

"This man. He loved you. He was a fool. I say was because his life isbehind him. It is something that is finished, a trace followed to the end. He is a dead man as he lies there. He loved you. I believe you loved him. He is my prisoner. Now you can guess why I know you will not harmyourself. "

I knew. She was suffering too much to reason clearly. But he was eager tohelp her to understand He amplified by explaining:

"It will be for you to say if he is to be tortured. He is young andstrong. We could keep him alive many days after the fire began to burnhim. It will be a fine game to see whom you love the better, yourself orhim. You will be free to go about the camp. But this man will be watchedall the time. After we take the fort to-night you will come to me and askto be my woman. 

"I had planned to take your father for my second prisoner. My medicinetells me to take this man as he will live longer. Remember; you will askto be my squaw. That sapling was trimmed for you; it will do for this man. You will come to me, or he goes to the stake. Now, go!"

And he reached out his hand and sent her spinning and reeling toward herfather. 

"You dog! Set me free, empty-handed, and you take a knife and ax, and Iwill show the Shawnees what a poor dog you are, " I told him in Shawnee. 

But he was not to be tempted into any violence just now. He mocked:

"You are something to be watched and guarded. When my new wife is ugly tome I will order you to the fire. Then she will be kind and you will bekept alive. Some time you will go to the fire. When I get tired of her andwish a new wife. "

Patricia crawled to her father and laid her head on his breast. No onegave her any heed except as the Cousin girl walked by her several times, watching her with inscrutable eyes. The Shawnees were impatient to trytheir new cannon. 

At Ward's suggestion Black Hoof sent some of his warriors to make a feinton the east side of the fort, so that the cannon could be hurried forwardand mounted across a log while the garrison's attention was distracted. Itwas now dusk in the woods although the birds circling high above the gladecaught the sunlight on their wings. The clearing would now be in the firsttwilight shadows, and Black Hoof gave his final orders. 

Acting on Ward's command two warriors fell upon me and fastened cords tomy wrists and ankles and staked me out in spread-eagle style, and then satbeside me, one on each side. Half a dozen of the older men remained in thecamp. Dale was mumbling something to the girl and she rose as if at hisbidding. 

The Cousin girl glided forward and in English asked what she wanted. Itwas Dale who told her, asking for water in Shawnee. She motioned forPatricia to remain where she was and in a few minutes brought water in agourd, and some venison. Patricia drank but would eat nothing. 

The Cousin woman tried to feed Dale, and succeeded but poorly. I asked forfood and water, and one of them brought a gourd and some meat. They liftedmy head so I might drink and fed me strips of smoked meat, but they wouldnot release my hands. 

After a time we heard much shouting and the firing of many guns. Thiswould be the mock attack, I judged. It increased in volume, this firing, until I feared that what had been started as a feint was being pushedforward to a victory. 

Suddenly the firing dropped away and only the yelling continued. Thiswould mean the savages had succeeded in rushing their wooden cannon closeenough to do damage. 

Every Indian left in the camp, including my two guards, were now standinglistening eagerly for the voice of the cannon. It came, a loud explosionthat dwarfed all rifle-fire any of us had ever heard. With screams of joythe guard began dancing about me and the older men danced around theDales. They went through all the grotesque attitudes and steps which theyuse in their pantomimes of great victories. 

This savage play was quickly stilled, however, as groans of pain andshouts of furious anger came to us. Now the cheering was that of whitevoices only. There was the noise of many feet hurrying back to the camp. Black Hoof came through the bushes first, and only the dusk saved my headfrom being split, as with a howl he threw his ax at me. Then came Ward, staggering like a drunken man and clawing at his left shoulder. 

The full force of the catastrophe was revealed when four broken forms ofdead warriors were hurried into the little opening, followed by a dozenbraves bearing wounds, which would appall a town-dweller. Ward's medicinehad lied to them. The cannon had burst and had scattered its charge ofstones among the Shawnees. One of the corpses had been beheaded by a pieceof rock. 

Several warriors rushed toward the Dales; others ran to me. 

"Stop!" roared Black Hoof. "Do not touch the prisoners!"

Some one lighted a fire. Other fires sprang up until the glade was wellillumined. Black Hoof sent some of the younger men to scout the creek sothe camp might not be surprised by a sally. To the warriors remaining thechief announced:

"We must march for the Ohio. Bad medicine has dogged us for many sleeps. Iwill make a feast to my medicine and will tell you what it says shall bedone with the prisoners. "

"That man and that woman are my prisoners!" hoarsely cried Ward. 

"They were your prisoners while we believed your medicine was strong. Nowthat we know your medicine is weak and foolish they belong to all theShawnees. Red Arrow's medicine is bad at heart. It told him to make a biggun. Four of my warriors are dead. Many are hurt. It will take blood tocover the bodies of the dead. Red Arrow has no prisoners until he goes andcatches them. "

Ward pulled his ax and limped toward me. No warrior made an effort to stophim. But Black Hoof reminded:

"When the Red Arrow is no longer a Shawnee he will be tied and left at theedge of the settlement. The prisoners are not to be harmed until mymedicine directs. "

Ward halted. He was close enough for me to see that while he had escaped awound from the flying stones his shoulder was blown full of powder. Thesweat streamed down his face and intimated something of the agony he wassuffering. 

"Black Hoof is a great warrior and a mighty chief!" he said huskily. "ButRed Arrow's medicine is weak because it has not been fed. Only blood willmake it strong. Let this man die before we break our camp. " And he stirredme with his foot. 

"The prisoners belong to the Shawnees. My medicine may whisper to kill oneof them, but the warriors in sound of my voice must decide. Those whowould see one of the three die show the ax. "

Almost as soon as he had spoken the air was filled with spinning axes, ascending to the boughs and then falling to be deftly caught, each ax byits owner. 

"It is good, " said the chief. "My medicine shall pick the prisoners todie. "

The explosion of the wooden cannon and the chief's ruling that we were nolonger Ward's prisoners appealed to me as a reprieve. At least the girlwas snatched from Ward's clutches. But the unanimous vote that one of usmust die threw me back on the rack. 

It was inconceivable that Patricia Dale should thus die. And yet I had hadan earnest of the devil's ferocity. East of the mountains I could not haveimagined a hand ever being raised against her. And I had seen her buffetedand struck down this day. Therefore, I did comprehend the inconceivable. 

I called out to the chief:

"Catahecassa, listen to a white medicine, for the red medicine is far awayor else is asleep. If the white woman is harmed you will shed tears ofblood before you reach your Scioto towns. The settlers are swarming in tohead you off. You have no time to spend in torturing any prisoner. 

"But had you many sleeps of time it would be bad for you to harm the whitegirl. If you harm her you will have nothing to trade for an open path tothe river. If you are wise in war, as your enemies say you are, you willguard her carefully at least until you make your villages above theOhio. "

The chief's eyes shifted uneasily, but his voice was ominous as he terselyadvised:

"The white man had better ask his strong medicine to keep him from thefire. One of the prisoners shall roast this night. I have said it. "

He had not liked my words as they set his superstitions to working, but itwould never do for him to bow before the threats of a white medicine. Sohe remained inexorable in his determination to cover his dead with a whitevictim. 

His raid into Virginia had been disastrous even though he could count thefour Grisdols, the seven men, women and children in Abb's Valley in hisdeath score. And he had taken three prisoners. Doubtless there were othervictims at the fire I had seen when on the Cheat. But the price he hadpaid for these various kills and us three prisoners was too heavy. 

Every Indian slain had been a prime fighting man, one it would take yearsof training to replace. After counting his losses in the mountains aboutthe Grisdol clearing, the warriors killed in Abb's Valley, and now hislosses here at Howard's Creek, the score was distinctly against him. Nomatter how mighty and famous a chief may be, he will surely and quicklylose his following if disaster dogs his war-paths. 

So I could understand Black Hoof's mental attitude. He attributed hismisfortunes to his weakening medicine. Let the cost be ever so dear hemust strengthen that medicine; and he firmly believed a human sacrificewould be the most acceptable offering he could make. 

"Bring that man over to the fire, " he directed, pointing to me. 

My wrist-cords were loosed, my ankles were fastened only with a spancel, and strong hands jerked me to my feet. Taking short steps I advanced towhere the girl lay with her head on her father's breast. 

Black Hoof selected a charred stick from the fire and stood staring at us, his eyes blank as though he did not see us. His warriors watched him withmuch awe. His spirit was far away up in the mountains communing with hismedicine. He was asking his manito which of the three victims would bemost acceptable. 

Ward stood behind him, his lean face working in helpless rage for fear thegirl would be the choice, thereby costing him a new wife. I felt deathlysick, physically sick, fearing she was marked for death, fearing she wasreserved for worse than death. 

Suddenly Black Hoof began shivering, then threw back his head and for amoment stared about him as if to collect his scattered senses. Reachingdown he pulled the girl from her father. She had swooned and was at leastspared these few minutes of awful dread. The charred stick hovered overher white face, then was withdrawn and darted at mine. 

Instinctively I closed my eyes, but as the stick failed to leave its markI opened them and beheld Dale had been chosen: A black smooch extendedfrom the tip of his nose to the roots of his hair, and was bisected byanother mark across the bridge of his nose, and extending to his ears. 

"Paint that man black, " Black Hoof ordered. 

Dale was very composed. He knew the worst. Perhaps he believed his deathwould save the girl. In a steady voice he said to me:

"Morris, I am sorry for you. Only God knows how I feel about Pat. I'vebeen worse than a fool. Don't tell her when she wakes up. Get the Cousinwoman to take her out of sight. It will be very hard but I will try to gothrough it like a man. "

"If there is anything I could do!" I cried. 

He shook his head and threw it back and his lips were drawn tight. 

"I am to blame. It's best this way. You came after me to help me. That wasgood and foolish of you. Pray God she will be spared. Pray God you will bespared. They'll be satisfied with my death for a while. I think I shall gothrough it very well. "

They pulled me away and fell to rubbing the unfortunate man's face andneck with charcoal. Cousin's sister with a magnificent show of strengthgathered the unconscious girl in her arms and walked toward the woods. Ward would have stopped her, but she hissed like a snake in his face, andthere was a hardness in the blue eyes he could not withstand. 

As she disappeared with her burden Black Hoof said something to LostSister's red husband. This warrior, very loath to miss the spectacle of aburning, sullenly glided after the woman. I feared he was sent to bringthem back, but as they did not return I knew he was ordered to stand guardover them. 

Now the opening was filled with the Shawnees, word having passed thatBlack Hoof was about to appease his war-medicine. Only the scouts and LostSister's man remained out. Dale was stood on his feet and his uppergarments were torn off from him. As they offered to lead him to the stakehe struck their hands aside and with firm step walked inside the circle ofbrush which had been heaped up some five feet from the stake. 

I closed my eyes and endeavored not to witness the scene but was unable tokeep them closed. With a spancel rope fastened to his ankles Dale wasfurther secured by a long cord tied around one wrist and fastened somefifteen feet up the trimmed sapling. 

When the flames began to bite on one side he could hobble around the postto the opposite side. As the flames spread he would become very active, but each revolution around the post would shorten the slack of thewrist-cord. With the entire circle of fuel ablaze he would slowly roast. Black Hoof muttered some gibberish and applied the torch. 

As the first billow of smoke rose and before the savages could commencetheir dancing and preliminary tortures, Ericus Dale threw back his headand loudly prayed:

"O God, protect my little girl! O God, have mercy upon me!"

Black Hoof jeered him, sardonically crying:

"The white man makes medicine to his white manito. Let Big Turtle[4] tryhim with a mouthful of fire. We will see if the white manito is weak orafraid to help his child. "

A burly warrior scooped up coals on a piece of bark and with a fiendishgrin leaped through the smoke. Two rifle shots, so close together as to bealmost one, shattered the tense silence as the savages held their breathto enjoy every symptom of the excruciating agony. Dale went down on hisknees, a small blue hole showing where the bullet mercifully had struckhis heart. Big Turtle leaped backward and fell into the burning brush. Awarrior, acting mechanically, dragged the Turtle clear of the flames. Hewas stone-dead. 

For several moments the Indians were incapable of motion, so astoundingwas this interference with their sport. It was the scream of a pantherthat awoke them to furious activity. Black Hoof shouted for his men tocatch the white scout. Then he turned on me and raised his ax. The act wasinvoluntary, for at once dropping his arm he ordered his men to extinguishthe fire and to see I did not escape. Then he hurried into the forest. 

The fire was stamped out and Dale's body removed to one side. I asked themto cover the dead man with a blanket, which they readily did. Now LostSister returned, this time leading Patricia. I called to her in Shawnee:

"Bring the white girl here. Does she know her father is dead?"

"I told her. The men said he was killed by a white bullet, " was the sullenreply. 

"Leave her with me and wash the black from his face, " I said. 

She brought her charge to me. Patricia's eyes were hot as if with fever. She dropped beside me and stared wildly. Then she began to remember andsaid:

"My father is dead, they tell me. "

"He is dead. He suffered none. It is as he wished. He could not escape. Heis at peace. "

"Life is so terrible, " she mumbled. "Death is so peaceful. Death is sobeautiful. Then one is so safe. "

She gave a little scream and collapsed with her head resting on my boundhands. But although her slender frame shook convulsively she shed notears. 

I tried to talk to her as I would to a little child. After a while sherose and her composure frightened me. She walked to her father. LostSister had removed the tell-tale black. The girl kneeled and kissed himand patted his hair. Then returning to me, she quietly said:

"He looks very peaceful. Very happy. I am glad he did not have to suffer. The bullet that took his life was very kind. It must be very beautiful tobe dead. "

She ceased speaking and slowly began stretching her arms above her head, and with a long-drawn scream she fell over backward and I knew she hadlost her reason. 

-----

 [4] Also Daniel Boone's Shawnee name in later years. 

CHAPTER X

OUR MEDICINE GROWS STRONGER

The Shawnees' anxiety to start for the Ohio almost became a panic. Thetragic manner in which they had been robbed of their victim, the screamingdefiance of young Cousin, together with their losses in warriors, convinced them something was radically wrong with their war-medicine. Outwardly Black Hoof remained calm but I knew he was greatly worried. Hismedicine had designated Dale for the torture, and then had permitted abullet to release the man. 

Nor was it any small influence which the girl's condition exerted in thisdesire to retreat. She seemed to be stunned. She walked about, but withoutappearing to hear or see her captors. There was none of the savages whodid not believe her terrible scream prefaced her crossing thedividing-line between reason and insanity. 

As an insane person she was under the special protection of the greatmanito, and black woe to him who interfered with her. The chief was eagerto abandon her to be picked up by the settlers at Howard's Creek, but sheclung tenaciously to Cousin's sister. The latter displayed no emotion overthis preference, yet she did not repulse the girl. She even was gentle incaring for her. 

Ward was for finishing me out of hand, but Black Hoof insisted I shouldcarry packs and make myself useful before being dispensed with. Then againI would be something to display at the villages and something to danceabout when it came to appeasing the ghosts of the slain warriors. We brokecamp that night, and with malicious ingenuity Ward strapped packs on myshoulders until my back buckled. As he finished and was promising tothrust his knife into my legs if I displayed any weariness, Cousin'ssister came up and sharply directed him to remove the packs as I was toserve as a litter-bearer. 

"The white woman asks for him, " she said. "Catahecassa gives him to me tohelp carry the medicine-woman. "

Ward raged, but Black Hoof upheld the girl; and although I knew Patriciawas too insensible of her surroundings to ask for any one, I was keen toserve her. Lost Sister had fashioned a rude litter out of rawhide and twosaplings, slack between the poles so the girl could not roll out. To mysurprise she stepped between the saplings at the forward end and called onme to pick up the other end and march. I considered it to be a man's work, but she made nothing of it, and never called a halt that she might rest. 

In the morning the hunters brought in some deer-meat and turkeys, and wecamped long enough to eat. Once more Ward endeavored to prevail upon thechief to put me out of the way. He played upon Black Hoof's superstitionsvery cunningly by declaring the war-medicine would be very weak until Iwas killed. The chief was impressed, else he never would have come tostare at me. 

It happened, however, that Patricia was delirious, and it was my hand onher head that seemed to quiet her. Lost Sister told a noble lie byvolunteering the information that it was my presence that kept the girlquiet. Black Hoof and his braves had a great fear of the girl when shebegan her rambling talk. They believed she was surrounded by ghosts andtalking with them. So Ward's request was refused, and stern orders weregiven that I should not be harmed. When the home villages were reached, headded, I might be burned. 

When we made our second camp on the Kanawha I called Black Hoof to me. Ihad been staked out in spread-eagle fashion and my guards had placedsaplings across my body and were preparing to lie down on the ends at eachside of me. I assured the chief there was no danger of my running away, asmy medicine would wither and die, did I forsake the great manito's child;and I asked him to relieve me of the cords and saplings. He told thewarriors to omit the cords. 

The next time we halted to snatch a few hours' sleep he ordered that nomore saplings be placed across me, that it would be sufficient to tie myankles and wrists. This was a great relief. During this portion of themarch the girl seemed oblivious to her surroundings, also to the fact thatshe was a captive. She showed a strong preference for Lost Sister'scompany, and would glance about worriedly if the young woman left hersight. 

So it devolved on the two of us, both white, to care for her. There weretimes when she babbled of faraway scenes, of Williamsburg and her oldhome, of the streets of Norfolk and Richmond. She talked with those shehad known as children. When in this condition the Indians were glad tokeep away from us. Even Ward would not willingly remain within hearing ofher sweet voice could he avoid so doing. And alas! There were other timeswhen she was almost violent, when only Lost Sister could soothe and quiether. 

By the time we reached the mouth of the Great Kanawha no guard was keptover me that I could perceive; nor were my limbs any longer bound atnight. At each camp Lost Sister ranged the woods and brought in roots andherbs and made strange-smelling messes in a camp kettle and assiduouslydosed the girl. 

Rafts were quickly knocked together and the crossing made to the Indianshore. I had expected the band to dig out hidden canoes and descend to themouth of the Scioto. Instead we struck into a trail across-country. Thepath was well worn, and the fork we followed ended at the Scioto aboveChillicothe, the principal Shawnee town. 

Much of the distance Patricia walked, although the litter was taken alongfor her convenience. Lost Sister talked with me at times and I began tofeel that the barrier between us was much lower. But she never spoke ofthe settlements or her brother. Her talk was always a red talk and shenever addressed me except in Shawnee. 

From her I learned we were making for Cornstalk's Town, some twenty-fivemiles above Chillicothe, located on Scippo Creek. Among border men thisregion was known as the Pickaway Plains. Near our destination wasGrenadier Squaw's Town, named after Cornstalk's gigantic sister. 

I suffered no incivility during the overland march. My status became thatof an attendant on the great manito's medicine-child. Patricia continuedin a dazed state of mind, but after two days of arduous travel I detectedher weeping. Lost Sister enigmatically warned:

"She is another woman. She is more like the woman she once was. She mustkeep close to her manito. "

I could interpret this only to mean that the girl was recovering from hermental shock and was recalling bits of the past, and that she was safeonly so long as the savages believed her to be insane. At our last campfrom Cornstalk's Town Patricia insisted on walking beside me when thetrace would permit it and she startled me by saying:

"My father was good to me. "

"Do you remember me?" I asked. 

"Remember you, Basdel? Why, of course. What a queer question. " Then with alittle frown she sighed and complained. "But I don't understand why I amhere with you and these Indians. I wonder if it is a bad dream, if I willsoon wake up. "

I blundered along the best I could, striving to say nothing which mightupset her. She suddenly refused to talk and began displaying much physicalnervousness. Lost Sister promptly took her in hand and led her somedistance in advance of me. That was the day the band split up, the bulk ofthe warriors leaving to go to their different villages. Half a dozenremained to press on to Cornstalk's Town. 

Ward was among those who left us and he was unwilling to go. His departurewas a great relief to me. His presence frightened the girl, although shegave no sign of remembering him as having been a factor in her life. Itwas due entirely to Lost Sister's appeal to Black Hoof that the renegadewas ordered to Chillicothe. 

As he was leaving us he promised me:

"I'll yet see you eating fire. That white squaw will see me again. "

"I'll dance your mangy scalp some time, " I retorted. 

Whereat he used terms of abuse he had picked up from traders, and I struckhim with my fist. Black Hoof stopped him from killing me, and threatenedme with torture if I offended again. Then he ordered Ward to go. 

The chief continued with us to Cornstalk's Town, but Cornstalk was notthere; so he went in search of him at Grenadier Squaw's Town. Beforeleaving he gave orders that I was not to be molested so long as I did notattempt to escape. The town was inhabited by women and children largely, with a dozen men left to act as hunters. 

It was plain that the fighting men of the tribe were gathering somewhere, probably at Chillicothe. Patricia was believed to be in touch with themanito, and was feared and respected accordingly. The days that followedwere not unhappy for me; and Patricia appeared to be contented in a numbsort of way. 

My own reaction to the anxieties and fears of our captivity devitalized meto a certain degree, I believed; else, I would not have been contented tosettle down to the drowsy existence of village life. I did no hunting. Iwas a companion to the girl when she wished for my company. Aside fromthat capacity the Indians looked on me as if I had been a tree. 

I talked on general subjects with Lost Sister, always waiting for her toblaze the trace our words were to follow. Her red husband remained alooffrom her from the day she took charge of Patricia. Whether he resented hercompanionship with us I do not know, and after our arrival he disappearedfor a time. 

I discovered I was lacking in curiosity as to what each morrow had instore for us. It savored of the indifference of the fatalist. But I didcome to the alert when I observed Patricia was rapidly returning tonormal. I remembered Lost Sister's warning, "She must keep close to hermanito. " I was forced to repeat these words to her. 

It was one of the hardest tasks I ever undertook. She suffered deeply whenshe began to grasp my meaning. She began to remember things concretely. Yet life was the stake, and the fact that my life was also involved helpedher much. With the aid of Lost Sister I taught her how to be ever on herguard, how to carry herself when in the presence of the silent but everwatchful Indians. 

Once the shock wore off somewhat she found it was not difficult to keep upher rôle. The most effective way to allay any suspicion was for her totalk aloud to herself. The savages believed she was holding conversationwith inmates of the invisible world, and drew away from her. But while sheimproved, my lethargy continued. My physical and mental strength seemed tobe sapped. I was content to lie on the bank of the creek, my mind idlingwith vagaries. 

Some six weeks passed in this desultory fashion, then Cornstalk and BlackHoof returned to the village with three warriors and a negro woman. Thewoman had been captured at Sapling Grove within three hundred yards ofCaptain Evan Shelby's house, the woman told me. She also informed me thather captors were led by a very large man, much whiter than any of hiscompanions, and that he talked good English. 

This description fitted either John Logan or Will Emery, the Cherokeehalf-breed. I decided the man was Logan. The woman was treated kindly. Immediately on arrival the two chiefs retired to a wigwam for a long talk. Then Black Hoof sent for me and Patricia. I warned her to pay no attentionto them, and to talk much to herself. She acted admirably and was kept inthe wigwam only a few minutes. 

Cornstalk had watched her closely, and both he and Black Hoof were uneasyand relieved when she departed. Toward me their manner was incisive, andthey demanded certain information. As I knew conditions had changed vastlysince I was captured I talked freely and improvised considerably. Therewas no military value whatever to the news that I imparted. 

Cornstalk, who was a large man and of a commanding appearance, andpossessing unusual intellectual powers, was keen to learn aboutindividuals, especially about Daniel Boone. He asked how many men Boonecould lead against the Shawnees. I told him all the border men would beglad to serve under him, that he was collecting fighting men when I wastaken prisoner. 

"Your tongue is split, " Cornstalk warned. "Be careful, or we will say thatyoung medicine-woman does not need a liar to care for her. Be careful, oryour tongue will be pulled out. The Shawnees will be glad to warmthemselves at your fire. That man was sent to the Falls of the Ohio. Hehas returned to the settlements. He commands three forts in the lowervalleys. Will he head riflemen to battle, or stay at the forts?"

I truthfully answered that I believed he would be given an importantcommand. And I explained how Colonel Lewis would be over him as he wouldbe over many other brave leaders. They knew Lewis and feared him. Theirfaces were very glum until I repeated Connolly's message to Charles Lewisthat peace with the tribes was very possible. Then they smiled grimly andCornstalk informed me. 

"Your Dunmore ordered his Long Knives to march against Shawnee towns tensleeps after you were captured. "[5]

I was startled at the information and glanced through the opening of thewigwam as if expecting to see the lean militia men breaking from thewoods. The chief added:

"But they seem to have trouble in starting. Perhaps they are very old menand can not walk fast. I shall send my young men across the Ohio to digthem out of the mud. "

"The Cherokees will not join the Shawnees, " I ventured. 

Cornstalk eyed me menacingly. 

"They will not because they have old women among them. They put theirpowder in bags, and put the bags in caves. Their powder is spoiled. AfterI whip your army the Cherokees will carry their axes into the Carolinas. "

I believed the Cherokees would do this, if our army were whipped. Turningto Black Hoof, Cornstalk asked:

"How long before you roast this white man?"

"After we have whipped the army of Dunmore and Lewis and Boone. Now hewaits on the medicine-woman. After the battle there will be many whitewomen to wait on her. "

I was dismissed and on reaching the open air I discovered I had left allmy apathy behind me. The importance of time and the imperative need ofimmediate action was burned into my brain by Black Hoof's words. I soughtPatricia and found her seated on the bank, staring into the sluggishwaters. 

"I was thinking of you, Basdel, " she greeted, and she reached her hand tome. "I was remembering what I said in Salem about your rifle. I'm sorry. Idid wrong. "

"Heavens, child! Abuse the rifle all you will!"

"It was abuse of you and of all that your rifle stood for. I mocked youbecause you were from the border. Poor father! He knew many Indians, buthe did not understand them. Town ways seem mighty small and of no accountnow. "

"Patsy, you must get a grip on yourself. We must get clear of this villageat once. We must get back to Virginia. "

She shivered and her eyes dilated as she stared at me and she muttered:

"I dread the woods, the silence, the darkness. The wolves howling atnight. Worst of all is the creeping horror of being chased. No! No! Ican't stand any more, Basdel. The black horror comes over me when I letmyself think of it. The dank woods--the silence--the awful stealth ofnight. No, no, Basdel. Let me die here. "

"Patsy, grip yourself! You can't stay among these beggars. They think youare insane. That's why they've spared you. But there's going to be abattle soon. If they win they'll bring many prisoners here. You must notbe here then. "

She interrupted me with a little heart-broken cry and clapped her hands toher eyes to blot out some horrid picture. It was harsh, but the way shewas inclining led to permanent madness. 

"We will steal away and make the Ohio. The Indians are busy planning forthe big battle. They'll not spare many men to seek us. I will take youback to Virginia and across the mountains. "

"Or we will both die, " she whispered. "That wouldn't be bad. To die and beout of it all--But I mustn't speak for you, Basdel. "

"You speak for both of us, " I comforted. "Death isn't terrible. This is. "And I swept my hand in a half-circle at the Shawnee wigwams forming thevillage. "Say nothing to Cousin's sister. I will make my plans at once. Agun, some powder and lead, and then we will go. "

"And never come back to them alive?" she insisted, and she leaned forwardand stared intently into my eyes. 

"Never alive, sweetheart. "

"That is much better, " she quietly remarked. "And here comes my sister. She has been very good to me. I wish we could take her with us. Over themountains, or to death. "

"She refused to go over the mountains with her brother. We must tell hernothing, " I warned. 

Lost Sister gave me a quick glance as she came up. She gazed at Patriciain silence for a moment, then warned:

"The white woman must keep close to her manito. The eyes of the eagle andthe ears of the fox are in this village. "

"She is having bad thoughts, " I told her. "Lead her thoughts through newpaths. "

As I strolled away I heard her beginning a Shawnee myth, in which it wasexplained why the wet-hawk feeds while flying, and how the smallturkey-buzzard got its tufted head. 

According to the notches cut in my long stick it was the first day ofSeptember. Now that Cornstalk was back and in conference with Black Hoofthe village became a center of importance. Notable chiefs and medicine-menof the northern tribes began to assemble. Lost Sister pointed out to mePuck-e-shin-wa, father of a six-year-old boy, who was to become one of themost remarkable Indian characters in our history, under the name ofTecumseh. 

Young Ellinipsico, son of Cornstalk, was there, gay in his war-trappingsand eager for the battle. Blue Jacket, another famous Shawnee chief andwarrior, was in attendance. Of the allied tribes I saw Chiyawee theWyandot, Scoppathus the Mingo, Redhawk the Delaware, and most interestingof all, John Logan, chief of the Mingos. 

He was the son of a French man, who was adopted by the Oneidas, but healways claimed kin to the Cayuga, the term "Mingo" being loosely appliedby our border men to any fragments of the Iroquois living outside the LongHouse in New York Province. Logan came and went inside an hour, spendingall his time in a secret conference with Cornstalk. 

I saw him as he strode through the little village, looking neither toright nor left, saturnine of countenance. He showed his white blood, beingmuch lighter in complexion than the full-bloods. A warrior walked behindhim, carrying his gun. The chief himself carried a long wand decoratedwith the ten or twelve scalps he had taken since Baker and Greathousemassacred his people at Baker's Bottom. 

Young Cherokees, stolen away from their nation to be in at the death ofthe white race in Virginia, were present without leaders. Black Hoof'slong absence from the villages was explained when a full score Ottawasfiled into the opening and sang their war-song. Their spokesman loudlyannounced that they were but the advance of many of their tribe. 

I feared I had waited too long, and was much relieved to learn from LostSister that warriors and chiefs were to move to Chillicothe at once andthere await the coming of the western bands. Their going would leave ourvillage practically deserted except for aged and broken men and the womenand children. 

Lost Sister said her husband was eager to take the path, and that it wasCornstalk's plan to cross the Ohio instead of waiting to be attacked inhis own country. She was vague as to the chief's exact plans once he hadcrossed the river, but by joining her brief statements together I was ledto believe Cornstalk had learned that the Virginia forces had been splitinto two armies, and that the masterly red strategist planned to surpriseand annihilate one, and then attack the second. This information alone wasof sufficient importance for me to risk my life many times in order toapprise my superiors of the trap being set for them. 

By the time the sun was half-way down the afternoon sky all the chiefswere moving down the river bound for Chillicothe. Young Ellinipsico and amixed band of warriors were left to arrange for guarding the girl. Hewould depart for Chillicothe on the morrow. I went in search of the girland met Lost Sister standing by a big honey-tree. She asked me if I hadseen her husband, and looked worried when I shook my head. 

"He said he would not go without seeing me, and yet he is not here in thevillage. Your white woman--she walks far from her manito. It is bad forher. "

"She must leave here, " I boldly said. "I must take her away. " I had had nointention of taking her into my confidence, but I realized it would beimpossible to make a start without her missing the girl. So I took thedesperate course and did what I had warned Patricia not to do. 

She drew her knife and cut some straight marks on the honey-tree. 

"You see those?" she asked. 

I bowed my head. Without explaining the relevancy of her question, sheturned and walked rapidly toward the village. I stared at the marks andthey told me nothing. There was nothing pictorial about them. I followedher among the wigwams, and was in time to see her leading Patricia intoher wigwam. I sauntered after them, obsessed by the notion that strangeforces were at work. The village seemed to be quiet and sleepy and yet theair was surcharged with threats of things about to happen. 

When the storm broke it was from a quarter entirely different fromanything I could have imagined. My first intimation that something unusualwas happening was when a Shawnee ran into the village and began talking toEllinipsico, who was lounging sleepily on the grass before his father'swigwam. I heard Ellinipsico exclaim:

"He must not be hurt. He has felt the hand of the great manito on hishead. "

I looked about for a weapon, so that I might go down fighting, for I firstthought the stranger Indians were demanding me for a plaything, notunderstanding my true status as servant to the medicine-woman. I knew thiswas not the solution of the affair when Ellinipsico jumped to his feet andran to the edge of the village, at every bound shouting to the Ottawas tohurry back to the village. 

A loud outcry answered him from the forest. To my amazement Ellinipsicoslowed down his mad pace and appeared to be reluctant to enter the woods. The few Shawnees and Mingos in the village followed his example intimidity. Then above the war-cry of the Ottawas rose the roar of BabyKirst, punctuated by the crack of a rifle and the death-yell of a savage. 

Now I understood. The Ottawas, ignorant of Kirst's condition, had met himblundering through the woods and had essayed to halt his progress. Hepromptly had offered fight, and they were at it, with the odds greatly infavor of the Indians. In my excitement I ran to where Ellinipsico stood. He was dancing with rage and fright. Beholding me, he ordered me to diveinto the growth and stop the fight. 

I glanced back and saw Lost Sister and Patricia leaving the wigwam. LostSister began leading her charge toward the south end of the village andjerked her head at me as though calling on me to follow. It was driveninto my mind that this was the time to escape with the girl. I plungedinto the woods and no Indian cared to dog my steps. 

I made as if to go to the scene of the fearful confusion, but once out ofsight of Ellinipsico and his men I turned to intercept the course taken byLost Sister and Patricia. I miscalculated the distance, or else thecombatants made a rapid shift of ground, for before I knew it I wasstanding on the edge of a most ferocious struggle. Kirst was still mountedand bleeding from a dozen wounds. His long rifle was being swung for aclub. 

My first view of him was as he splintered the butt on an Ottawa head. Hebawled in triumph. The Ottawas, expecting no diversion so near thevillage, were armed only with their knives and axes. A fellow leaped on tothe horse and tried to stab him from behind, and one immense hand reachedback and caught him by the neck and held him in midair, and squeezed thelife from the painted body, and then hurled him among the remainingwarriors. 

The girl must come first, but it was not in my heart to pass withoutcontributing something to Kirst's advantage. I snatched up a war-club, dropped by a slain savage, and hurled it into the thick of them, bowlingover two. Kirst's horse went down, disemboweled. Now Kirst was at a greatdisadvantage, but his long arms gathered up two of the Ottawas, and Iheard their ribs crack, as with a pleased grunt the simple fellowcontracted his embrace. 

But now they were piling upon him, striking and stabbing, a living moundwhich for the moment concealed the big fellow. Then the mass began todisintegrate, and savages staggered back and fell dead, or suffering fromterrible wounds. Kirst rose to his feet only to fall on his face as ifshot through the head, although he received no wound at the time that Icould perceive. 

My last glance was fleeting, but it sufficed to count six silent forms ofOttawas who would never cross the Ohio to attack Lord Dunmore's armies. One Indian, gasping with pain, with both arms hanging like rags, lurchedby me but not seeing me, his gaping mouth trying to sound his death-song. Ellinipsico was calling on his men to follow him, and I sped away. 

Baby Kirst had fulfilled his destiny and would babble his way through theforests no more. The force which had destroyed his reason had paid thefull price the law of compensation had worked out. 

Could I find the girl without returning to the village I hoped theconfusion resulting from the bloody struggle would permit me to steal awaywith her. I swung back toward the opening and soon discovered Patricia andLost Sister. The latter on beholding me called me by name, the first timeshe had ever done so. As I ran to them she fiercely said:

"Take your white woman and go! Cross the Ohio but do not go up theKanawha. Follow the Guyandotte or Sandy, into the valley of the Clinch. You must hurry!"

As if the day had not been hideous enough a bepainted warrior burstthrough the undergrowth as she finished, with his bow raised and an arrowdrawn to the head. Beneath the war vermilion, I recognized Lost Sister'shusband. She threw out her arms and smiled scornfully and cried:

"You hide in the bushes to watch me? I thought so. "

Then she was down with an arrow buried to the feathers. 

I leaped into the bushes and grappled with the murderer before he coulddraw another arrow from his quiver. He dropped his bow and endeavored tohurl me to the ground. As we whirled about I saw Patricia kneeling besideLost Sister and striving to pet her back to life. One glimpse, and thenall my attention was needed for my adversary. He was quicker than I, andhis freshly oiled body made him hard to hold; but I was far the stronger. 

"His knife, Basdel; Look out;" screamed Patricia; and I was glad to notethere was no madness in her voice. 

I had him by his right wrist, my left arm shoved under his chin and intohis red throat. The girl's gaze sent my gaze downward. He was trying towork the knife from its sheath before I could force him backward or breakhis neck. But the sheath was too long for the knife and he could not reachthe handle with his fingers until he had forced the blade upward bypinching the tip of the sheath. I did not try to interfere with hismaneuver, but settled myself solidly to hold him from escaping. 

"The knife, Basdel!" she shrilly repeated. Then she nearly upset mycalculations by trying to thrust a bough between my foe's feet. Only by animble maneuver did I escape being tripped; but it was heartening to knowPatricia could respond to my needs. 

"Stand clear!" I panted. "I have him!"

"But the knife!" she despairingly cried. 

"He's getting it for me!" I replied. 

Now he had managed to work the haft clear of the leather and his left handwas closing on it. His eyes told me that much. Instantly I changed mytactics. I dropped my left arm to seize his left wrist. I released hisright wrist and with my free hand tore the weapon from his grasp. Hestruck me in the head with his free fist, but I felt it none as he did nothave the white man's trick of delivering a buffet. We went down side byside, and by the time we had rolled over once he was dead by his ownknife. 

Retaining the weapon, I ran to Patricia as she collapsed by the side ofthe dying woman. 

"I am all right! Get up!" I commanded. 

Cousin's sister smiled grimly, and whispered:

"He has been watching us. He saw me come here when I scratched the tree. He has been hiding--The marks I made on the honey-tree--Look behindit--the pea-vines--. Tell Shelby I send him a little sister--" And she hadsolved all her problems, and had passed into the compassion of the manitowhose gentleness and understanding surpass all comprehension. 

Patricia was weeping softly, as one who sorrows with an aching heart, butnot as one who is afraid. I gathered her up in my arms and made for thehoney-tree close by. I stood her on her feet, and exhorted her to be braveas the time had come for us to take to flight. I plunged into thepea-vines behind the tree. A new thrill of life fired me as I fished outmy own rifle, a powder-horn, shot-pouch and linen patches. Cousin's sisterhad even remembered to provide a roll of buckskin and an awl for mendingour moccasins, and a small package of smoked meat. 

Thus armed once more I took the girl's hand and stole through the woods, following the well-beaten path that led to Chillicothe, and planning toswing to the east and skirt the town under the cover of darkness. Idesired to emerge on the Ohio at a point opposite the mouth of the BigSandy. For some time we could hear the wailing and howling of the Shawneesin Cornstalk's Town as they mourned for the dead Ottawas, and Patricia wassadly frightened. My ears were tingling for fear they would catch the cryof discovery, but young Ellinipsico was there instead of Black Hoof, andour flight was undiscovered. 

-----

 [5] Expedition against Indian towns ordered July 24th. Boone returned from Kentucky to the settlements August 27th. 

CHAPTER XI

BACK TO THE BLUE WALL

We reached the Ohio and I soon found a canoe. The trip down the Scioto hadits danger thrills, and twice we narrowly escaped meeting bands ofwarriors on the main trace. I stuck to the path because of its advantages. None below us knew we had left the upper town, and would not be lookingfor us. In the beaten path there was much less chance of leaving signs forsome scout to pick up and follow. I knew warriors would be scouring thecountry in all directions once the news of our escape was carried toChillicothe, but the Scioto path was the last one they would expect us totake. 

I had remembered Lost Sister's warning and planned to follow the Big Sandyuntil its head waters interlocked with those of the Clinch and Holston. Itwas nerve-wearing work, that crossing of the Ohio. With each dip of thepaddle I expected rifles to crack behind me and canoes to poke their nosesthrough the overhanging foliage and make after us. I could not see thatthe girl breathed during the crossing, and I kept her in front of me asher face was a mirror to reflect instantly any danger on the Indianshore. 

We landed at the mouth of Four-Mile Creek without any disturbingincidents. I told her we were four miles above the mouth of the Scioto andshe was for placing more distance between us and that river at once. Butit was impossible to travel all the time. Now we were foot-free, and as Ihad my rifle the Shawnees would pay high before catching up with us, Iassured her. I had been at Four-Mile Creek the year before to survey fivehundred acres of good bottom-land for Patrick Henry, and was of coursefamiliar with the locality. 

Five hundred yards back from the Ohio was an old fort. I took the girlthere to rest while I patched our moccasins. The Indians said thisstructure was so ancient that no one knew who built it. As a matter offact it was the remains of George Croghan's stone trading-house. Traces ofan Indian town, antedating the fort, were also to be observed. Verypossibly it was occupied by the Shawnees before they built their firsttown at the mouth of the Scioto on the west bank. It was from this Sciototown that Mary Ingles escaped in 1755, and the history of her daring andhardships rather belittled my feat in bringing Patricia from the uppertown. 

The poor girl continued extremely nervous and I feared she would collapse. Now that she had tasted freedom she feared the Indians were hot on ourtrail. Her gaze was constantly roving to the Ohio. She was fearing tobehold the Shawnees paddling across to recapture us. The moccasins had tobe mended, however, as the night travel down the Scioto path had sadlydamaged them. 

As I sewed the whangs through the rips and hastily patched the holes Icould see her worriment was increasing. That period of delay was moretrying to her fortitude than when we were making the détour aroundChillicothe and our very lives hung on luck, or the mercy of her manito. 

"There is something in the river, " she whispered, her slight figuregrowing rigid. 

"Only a log, " I told her. 

"Look! Isn't there something moving in the bushes?" And she clutched myarm. 

"Only the wind ruffling the tops, " I soothed. 

She was silent for a few minutes and then confessed:

"I dread and hate the river, Basdel. I wish we could get out of sight ofit. "

"It's a short trip in the canoe to the Big Sandy. "

"And with the possibility of an Indian hiding behind every stump and logalong the shore!"

"Then we will hide the canoe and strike across the bend. A few creeks tocross, and inside of two days we should reach the Big Sandy. It's aboutthirty-five miles and there is the blaze left by the surveyors. Do youwish that? It will be harder for your feet than riding in the canoe. Itmay be easier on your nerves. "

"Anything, Basdel, to get away from the river! And can't we start now? Iknow we shall see the Indians coming across to catch us if we stay heremuch longer. "

I tossed her her moccasins and quickly mended mine and put them on. Leaving her to wait until I could draw up the canoe and hide it, Iproceeded to conceal all traces of our landing as best I could, and thentold her I was ready. 

The bottoms on this side of the river are narrower than on the Indianshore, and the old surveyors' blaze proved to be a wet path. The smallcreeks were bordered with cane and when we encountered them it was hard onthe girl. But she minded hardships none, and once we were out of sight ofthe river she regained some of her spirits. But a glimpse of the blueriver brought back her old fears as though the Ohio were some monster ableto reach out and seize her. 

Before night I proved the river could be good to us. Against her will Ihad swung down to the shore and was leading her along a narrow beach inorder to escape a bad tangle of briers when I had the good fortune todiscover a bateau lodged against the bank. The girl begged me not to gonear it although it was obviously empty. I insisted and was rewarded witha bag containing a bushel of corn. Now we could have cooked it in ourkettle had we been provided with that indispensable article. As it wasthere was life in munching the corn. 

The undergrowth was a nuisance, being composed of pea-vines, clover, nettles, cane and briery berry bushes. I would not stop to camp until Icould reach a tract free from the stuff. As a result it was nearly sunsetby the time we halted in a mixed growth of hickory, ironwood and ash onthe banks of a tiny creek. Here we could pick a path that left no signs. We rested a bit and then followed the creek toward its outlet for half amile and came to a log cabin. 

The girl dropped to the ground, glaring as if we were beholding thepainted head of a Shawnee. I assured her it was a white man's cabin andprobably empty. Leaving her behind an elm, I scouted the place andsatisfied myself there had been no recent visitors there. I called to herto join me and proudly displayed an iron kettle I had found by the door. But when I would have left her to make the kettle boil while I looked fora turkey, she refused to stay and insisted on accompanying me. 

Fortunately I perched a turkey within two hundred feet of the cabin. Ihung the kettle in the fireplace and built a good fire under it and thendressed the turkey. For some reason the girl preferred the open to thecabin and remained outside the door. As I finished my task she called tome excitedly. Grabbing my rifle, I ran out. She was pointing dramaticallyat a big blaze on a mulberry-tree. The scar was fresh, and on it some onehad written with a charred stick:

Found some people killed here. We are gone down this way. Douglass. 

"What does it mean?" she whispered, her eyes very big as she stared at thedusky forest wall. 

"That would be James Douglass, " I mused. "He came down here with Floyd'ssurveying-party last spring. I wonder who was killed. "

"Enough to know the Indians have been here, " she said, drawing closer tome. "Can't we go the way they did and be safe?"

"We might make it. But 'gone down this way' means they started for NewOrleans. A long, roundabout journey to Williamsburg. "

"Oh, never that! I didn't understand, " she cried. "I will be braver. Butif the nearest way home was by the Ohio I would go by land. Anything butthe river! Remember your promise that we are not to be taken alive. Nowlet's push on. "

"And leave this excellent shelter?" I protested. 

"Men have been killed here. I can't abide it. A few miles more--please. "

Of course she had her own way, but I made her wait until we had cookedsome corn to a mush and I had broiled the turkey. I could have told her itwould be difficult for us to select any spot along the river which had notbeen the scene of a killing. So we took the kettle and left a stout, snugcabin and pushed on through the darkness to the top of a low ridge, whereI insisted we must camp. We made no fire. 

I estimated the day's travel to have been twelve miles at the least, whichwas a good stint for a man, let alone a girl unused to the forest. Nor hadthe work wearied her unduly. At least she had gained something from hercaptivity--a strength to endure physical hardships which she had neverknown before. With good luck and half-way decent footing I believedanother sunset would find us at the Big Sandy. That night was cold and Isorely regretted our lack of blankets. 

Before sunrise I had a fire burning and the kettle of mush slung on agreen sapling for further cooking. Patricia was curled up like a kitten, and I recovered my hunting-shirt and slipped it on without her knowing Ihad loaned it to her for a covering. She opened her eyes and watched me afew moments without comprehending where she was. With a little cry shejumped to her feet and roundly unbraided me for not calling her to help inthe work. 

I pointed out a spring, and by the time she was ready to eat the hot mushand cold turkey, the fire was out and we were ready to march. Our lack ofsalt was all that prevented the meal from being very appetizing. We werenot inclined to quarrel with our good fortune, however, but ate enough tolast us the day. As the first rays touched the tops of the trees weresumed the journey. 

We covered a good ten miles when we had our first serious mishap sinceleaving the Indian village. Patricia had insisted she be allowed to takethe lead where the blazed trees made the trace easy to follow. I humoredher, for she kept within a rod of me. We struck into a bottom and had topick our way through a stretch of cane. 

Afraid she might stumble on to a bear and be sadly frightened, I called onher to wait for me. But she discovered a blaze on a sycamore beyond thecane and hurried forward. Half-way through the cane she slipped on a wetroot and fell on her side. Ordinarily the accident would not have beenserious, but the moment I saw the expression of pain driving her facewhite I knew she was hurt. I dropped the kettle and picked her up. Shewinced and groaned and said it was her arm. I carried her to the highground and made her sit while I examined her hurt. I expected to find thebone broken. I was happily disappointed, and yet she was hurt grievouslyenough. A section of cane had penetrated the upper arm near the shoulder, making a nasty wound. As the cane had broken off in the flesh it wasnecessary for me to play the surgeon. Using a pair of bullet-molds Imanaged to secure a grip on the ugly splinter and pull it out. She gave alittle yelp, but did not move. 

"The worst is over, " I told her. "Now we must dress it. "

Returning and securing the kettle, I dipped water from a spring andlighted a fire and hung the kettle to boil. Then I hunted for Indianmedicine. I soon found it, the bark of a linn or bee-tree root. This Ipounded and bruised with the butt of my rifle and threw it into the kettleto boil. Patricia remained very patient and quiet, her eyes following myevery move. 

"You're as useful as a housewife, Basdel, " she remarked. "More useful thanmost women could be. "

"Only a trick learned from the environment, " I lightly replied. "Does ithurt much?" This was rhetorical, for I knew a stab wound from the canesmarted and ached most disagreeably. 

"Not much, " she bravely replied. "I'm sorry to bother you, though. "

"You'll soon be as fit as a fiddle, " I assured her. "Border men arecontinually helping each other in this fashion. "

As soon as the kettle boiled I washed the wound in the liquid and madesure all of the cane had been removed. This additional probing caused herpain but she showed no signs not even by flinching. The application atonce had a soothing effect. We waited until the medicine had cooked downto a jelly-like consistency, when I applied it as a salve, working it intoand thoroughly covering the wound. Then I tied it up with a strip tornfrom her skirt. Rather rough surgery, but I knew it would be effective. 

She bitterly lamented over the time we were losing, and blamed herself soseverely that I finally consented to go on, providing she would keepbehind me. Had the hurt been in her foot we would have been forced to campfor several days. 

Toward night the country grew more broken and much rougher, and I knew wewere nearing the Sandy. I feared she might trip over some obstacle, and wecamped before the light deserted us. I told her we were within a few milesof the river and that we ought to strike it at the mouth of Savage Creek, some four or five miles from the Ohio. After starting a fire, shevolunteered to remain and feed it while I looked for game. This in the wayof doing penance, perhaps. I had the good luck to shoot a deer and wedined on venison. 

After we had eaten she sat close by the fire and was silent for manyminutes. That she was meditating deeply was shown by her indifference tothe night sounds which usually perturbed her. The howling of the wolves, and the scream of a panther, leaping to make a kill, passed unheard. Suddenly she declared:

"You were right, Basdel. "

"About what, Patsy?"

"About my not fitting in west of the mountains. "

"That was said before you were tried. No woman, even border-born, could bemore brave than you have been. "

"And I was so woefully wrong when I made fun of your long rifle. I wantyou to forgive me. "

"Patsy, don't. You are wonderful. "

"Still being good to me, Basdel. But I know the truth now. Back over themountains I was wicked enough to feel a little superior to frontier folks. No. Don't wave your hands at me. I must say it. I even felt a little bitof contempt for those brave women who went barefooted. God forgive me! Iwas a cat, Basdel. A vicious cat!"

"Good heavens, Patsy! Say it all and have done with it. Call yourself apirate. "

She would not respond to my banter, but fell to staring into the handfulof coals. Then the tears began streaming down her face, and at last shesobbed:

"Poor girl! Poor girl! She was a wonderful friend to me. She never had anychance, and you can never know how hard she tried to keep my spirits up;how ready she was to stand between me and harm--me, who has had everychance! And to end like that! And yet it was far worse to live like that. It's best as it is, but God must be very good to her to make up for whatshe lost. Tell me, Basdel, did she suffer much when she died?"

She could be talking only of Cousin's sister. I declared:

"She suffered none. It's best for her as it is. "

She fell asleep with her back against a black walnut, and I spread myhunting-shirt over her, for the air was shrewdly cool. In the dying coalsI saw pictures, wherein Kirst, Dale, and Lost Sister paraded in turn; thefate of each the result of race-hatred, and a race-avidity to possess theland. And a great fear came over me that the girl leaning against thewalnut, the mass of blue-black hair seeming to bow down the proud head, was destined to be added to the purchase-price the frontier was everpaying. 

It was her talk and tears that induced this mood, for I knew the Shawneeswould have overtaken us by this time had they found our trail on theKentucky shore. Common sense told me that for the remainder of our journeywe would, at worst, be compelled to avoid small scouting-parties that hadno intimation of our presence on the Big Sandy. 

But so many gruesome pranks had been played by Fate that I was growingsuperstitious. And I feared lest the girl should be snatched from me atthe last moment, just as safety was almost within sight. I slept poorlythat night and what little rest I did obtain was along toward morning. 

The girl awoke me; and I felt my face burning as I beheld her standingthere, staring down accusingly, the hunting-shirt spread across my chest. I sprang to my feet and slipped into the shirt, which was made like acoat, and waited for her to speak. 

"So you've been sleeping cold, " she said. 

"Nay. Very warm, " I replied, becoming busy with my moccasins. 

"After this I will keep awake nights. "

"I did not need it. I always take it off at night It makes me too warm. "

"You lie most beautifully, Basdel. "

"How is the arm this morning?"

"Much better. But you must be more honest with me. You must not lie anymore. "

"You're making a mountain out of a hunting-shirt. It is too warm to wearat night in this mild weather. "

"You're hopeless. Of course it is not too warm in the warm sunshine. "

I was glad to let it go at that. And there was no warm sunshine thismorning. The heavens were overcast with gray cold clouds that rode highand brought wind rather than rain. We missed the sun. Town-dwellers cannever know the degree of dependence the forest wanderer places on thesunlight for his comfort and good cheer. Despair becomes gaiety under thegenial rays. It is not surprising the sun should be the greatest of allmysteries to the Indians, and therefore their greatest medicine or god. 

We ate of the venison and mush and started for the river. The distance wasnot great, but the way was very rough, and there were no more blazed treesto guide us, the surveyors' trace passing below us and closer to theshore. But I was familiar with the lay of the land and it was impossiblefor me to go far wrong as long as all streams flowed into the Ohio and wecrossed at right angles with their general course. 

I carried the kettle slung on my rifle and with my right hand gave thegirl aid when the path became unusually difficult. A wrenched ankle wouldleave us as helpless as a broken leg. It required three hours of painfuleffort to bring us to the Sandy. 

I found a fording and carried her across to the east shore and soonlocated a trader's trace. She never dreamed that her father often hadtraveled along this faint path in his visits to the Ohio Indians. Now thatthe footing was easier she had time to gaze about, and the aspectdepressed her. 

The immense hills of sandrock were worn into deep and gloomy ravines bythe streams. In the walls of the ravines black holes gaped, for caves werealmost as numerous as springs. To encourage a lighter mood I explainedthat these very caves made the country an ideal place for hiding from theIndians. 

She broke into my talk by moaning:

"May the good God help us! See that!"

She was pointing to a dark opening across the river. This framed the faceof the devil. For a moment I was sadly startled, then laughed hystericallyin relief. 

"It's a bear, with a white or gray marking on his face, " I explained. "Heis harmless. See! He's finished looking us over and goes back into hisden. "

But the effect of the shock to her nerves did not wear off for some time. To prepare her against more glimpses of bruin I told her how the brokennature of the country made it a favorite region for bears, and that it hadbeen long known along the border as a famous hunting-ground for the bigcreatures. 

"I feel just as if it was the guardian spirit of an evil place, that it isspying on us and plotting to harm us, " she confessed. 

Whenever the trace permitted I swung aside from the river and took to theridges. The tops of these were covered with chestnuts and their sides withoaks. More than once on such détours I sighted furtive furry formsslipping away from their feast on the fallen nuts, but Patricia's gaze wasnot sufficiently trained to detect them; and she wandered through thegroves without knowing we were literally surrounded by bears. 

While a wild country, it was relieved by many beautiful touches. Such werethe tulip-trees, or yellow poplar. Many of them towered a hundred feetwith scarcely a limb to mar the wand-like symmetry of the six-foot boles. Scarcely less inspiring were the cucumber-trees, or mountain magnolias, which here reached the perfection of growth. 

Scattered among these tall ones were white and yellow oaks; and they wouldbe considered giants if standing alone. These were the serene gods of theforest, and they had a quieting influence on my companion. It was withregret that I led her back along the rough shore of the river. 

I shot a young bear, but Patricia displayed a foolish repugnance and wouldeat none of it. Later in the day I killed a deer with such a minute chargeof powder as emphatically to establish my excellence as a marksman forthat one shot at least. We were nearly three days in making the Tug Forkof the Sandy. 

The girl bore the hardships well. The wound on her arm healed rapidly, andwhatever she actually suffered was mental rather than physical. Our kettleproved second only to my rifle in importance, and if the fare lacked thesavor of salt our appetites made up for the deficit. When we reached theTug we were in the region celebrated for Colonel Andrew Lewis' "SandyCreek Voyage of Fifty-six, " as it was styled with grim facetiousness. 

It was one instance when Colonel Lewis failed of carrying out anenterprise against the Indians. It was a retaliatory raid against theShawnees and his force was composed of whites and Cherokees; and his lackof success was due largely to the inefficiency of the guides who undertookto pilot him to the mouth of the Sandy. I told the girl of the expeditionas it was lacking in horrible details, and with other carefully selectednarratives tried to keep her from brooding. 

She seldom mentioned her father, and when she did it was usually connectedwith some phase of life over the mountains. I believe that she was sothankful to know he escaped the torture that his death lost much ofpoignancy. Only once did she revert to his taking off, and then to ask:

"Was there a single chance for him to escape?"

And I emphatically declared he never had the ghost of a chance from themoment he fell into Black Hoof's hands. 

Another ruse to keep her mind engaged was to trace out our course with astick on a patch of bare earth. I showed how we should travel to the northfork of the Sandy and then strike to the head of Bluestone, and follow itnearly to the mouth before leaving it to cross New River; then a shortjourney to the Greenbriar and Howard's Creek. 

Had I had any choice I should have preferred to take her over themountains to Salem, but my time was not my own and it was imperative thatI leave her at the first place of safety and be about Governor Dunmore'sbusiness. My decision to make Howard's Creek was strengthened by anadventure which befell us near the end of our first day on the Tug. Wewere casting about for a place to camp when we came upon five Indians, three squaws and two hunters. 

Patricia was greatly frightened on beholding them, and it was some timebefore I could make her understand that they were friendly Delawares, accompanied by their women, and not painted nor equipped for war. Aftercalming her I addressed them and learned they were from White Eye'svillage. They were afraid to go near the settlements. 

Many "Long Knives, " as they called the Virginia militia, were flocking tothe Great Levels of the Greenbriar, and a forward movement of a whole armywas shortly to be expected. As the presence of a large force of ourriflemen so near Howard's Creek would insure the safety of that settlementI knew it to be the proper ending of our journey. 

I induced Patricia to remain in camp with the Indians while I went out andshot a bear. The bear was very fat and I gave all the meat to the natives, for which they were grateful. One of them had a smoothbore, but no powder. I could spare him none. 

Patricia was now convinced the Indians would not harm us, but she wouldnot consent to making camp near them. We walked several more miles beforeshe was willing to stop and cook the kettle. 

My tally-stick gave the thirteenth of September as the date of our arrivalat Howard's Creek. The settlers informed me I had lost a day somewhere onthe long journey and that it was the fourteenth. Nearly all the young andunmarried men were off to fight in Colonel Lewis' army, and many of theheads of families, including Davis and Moulton. 

Those who were left behind gave us a royal welcome. Uncle Dick, the agedone, fell to sharpening his long knife with renewed vigor. Patricia and Ihad been counted as dead. Dale's death had been reported by young Cousin, and it caused no great amount of sorrow. The girl was never allowed tosuspect this indifference. In reply to my eager inquiries I was told thatShelby Cousin was at the Great Levels, serving as a scout. 

For once Howard's Creek felt safe. With nothing to worry about the men andwomen became garrulous as crows. The children played "Lewis' Army" fromsunrise to sunset. The Widow McCabe swore she would put on a hunting-shirtand breeches and go to war. The passing of men between the levels and thecreek resulted in some news and many rumors. The meeting-place at thelevels was called Camp Union. Colonel Lewis, pursuant to orders fromGovernor Dunmore, had commenced assembling the Augusta, Botetourt andFincastle County troops at the levels on August twenty-seven. Cornstalk'sspies had served him well!

His Lordship was to lead an army, raised from the northwest counties andfrom the vicinity of Fort Pitt, down the Ohio and unite with Colonel Lewisat the mouth of the Great Kanawha. Colonel Charles Lewis, with someAugusta and Botetourt troops, had left Camp Union on September sixth todrive the cattle and four hundred pack-animals to the mouth of the Elk, where he was to make canoes for transporting provisions to the Ohio. 

The main army had marched from Camp Union on the twelfth, although ColonelLewis had received a letter from Dunmore, urging that the rendezvous bechanged to the mouth of the Little Kanawha. Colonel Lewis had replied itwas impossible to alter his line of march. 

From a fellow sent out to round up stray bullocks I learned the army wouldavoid the deep gorge and falls in the river by marching ten miles inlandand parallel to the east bank, joining Colonel Charles Lewis at the Elk. 

By another man I was told how the militia men were given to shooting awaytheir precious ammunition, and how the colonel had warned that unless thepractise ceased no more powder would be given out. That the Indians wereactive and not afraid of the troops was evidenced by an attack onStewart's Fort, only four miles from Camp Union. And this, before thetroops marched. 

Colonel William Christian was in command of the rear-guard, and his menwere much disgruntled at the thought of not being in the forefront of thefighting. What was most significant to me, although only an incident inthe estimation of the men left at Howard's Creek, was the attack made bytwo Indians on two of Lewis' scouts, Clay and Coward by name. 

The scouts had separated and one of the Indians fired on and killed Clay. Thinking him to be alone, the Indians ran to get his scalp, and Coward ata distance of a hundred yards shot him dead. Coward then ran back towardthe line of march and the surviving Indian fled down the Great Kanawha toinform the Shawnee towns that the Long Knives were coming. 

I lost no time in securing a horse and a supply of powder and in hurryingto say good-by to Patricia. She was very sober when I told her I was offto overtake the army. Placing both hands on my shoulders, she said:

"Basdel, I know you've forgiven all the disagreeable things I've said toyou. I will wait here until I hear from you. I will pray that you have anequal chance with the other brave men. "

"I will come back and take you over the mountains. "

"If you will only come back you may take me where you will, dear lad, evenif it be deeper into the wilderness, " she softly promised. 

And Mrs. Davis bustled out of the cabin and energetically shooed thecurious youngsters away. 

And now I was riding away to battle, riding right joyously over thechestnut ridges and through the thick laurel, through stretches of pawpaw, beech and flowering poplar, with the pea-vine and buffalo grass softunderfoot. And my heart was as blithe as the mocking-bird's and there wasno shadow of tomahawk or scalping-knife across my path. 

I knew the destiny of the border was soon to be settled, that it hinged onthe lean, leather-faced riflemen ahead, but there was nothing but sunshineand glory for me in that September day as I hastened to overtake thegrim-faced man who believed His Lordship, John Murray, fourth Earl ofDunmore, Viscount Fincastle, Baron of Blair, Monlin and of Tillimet, wasVirginia's last royal governor. 

CHAPTER XII

THE SHADOWS VANISH

I followed the river, the cord of the bow, and made good time where thearmy would have had difficulty to get through. A dozen miles below thefalls and near the mouth of Kelly's Creek, where Walter Kelly was killedby the Indians early in August, I came upon a scout named Nooney. We wereon the west bank and the river was two hundred yards wide at that point. Nooney begged some tobacco and pointed out a fording-place and gave me the"parole. " This, very fittingly, was "Kanawha. " He said I would speedilymake the camp and that Colonel Lewis was with the first troops. 

I lost no time in crossing and had barely cleared the river-bank before Iwas held up by an outpost. This fellow knew nothing of military red-tape. He was plain militia, a good man in a fight, but inclined to resentdiscipline. He grinned affably as I broke through the woods and loweredhis rifle. 

"Gim'me some tobacker, " he demanded good-naturedly. 

"I suppose you'd want the parole, " I replied, fishing out a twist ofVirginia leaf. 

"I got that. It's 'Kanawha. ' What I want is tobacker. Don't hurry. Le'stalk. I'm lonesome as one bug all alone in a buffler robe. See any footin'over 'cross? I'm gittin' tired o' this outpost business. All foolishness. We'll know when we strike th' red devils. No need o' havin' some one tellus. Your hoss looks sorter peaked. S'pose we'll have a mess of a fightsoon? We boys come along to fight, not to stand like stockade-timbers outhere all alone. "

I told him I had important news for Colonel Lewis and must not tarry. Hetook it rather ill because I would not tell him my news, then tried tomake me promise I would come back and impart it. I equivocated and led myhorse on toward the camp, concealed from view of the river-bank by aribbon of woods. The first man I met was Davis, and the honest fellow wasso rejoiced to see me that he dropped his gun and took both my hands andstood there with his mouth working, but unable to say a word. Big tearsstreamed down his face. 

I hurriedly related my adventures, and his joy was treble when he heardthat Patricia was safe at Howard's Creek. 

"Shelby Cousin shot and kilt Dale. He told us 'bout that. Ericus thoughthe knew it all. Wal, them that lives longest learns th' most, " hephilosophically observed. "Powerful glad to see you. We'll be seein' moreof each other, I take it. How's my woman? Good. She's a right forward, capable woman, if I do say it. Moulton's out on a scout. Silent sort of acuss these days from thinkin' 'bout his woman an' th' children. But a rarehand in a mess. "

"And Cousin?"

"Say, Morris, that feller acts like he was reg'lar happy. Laughs a lot, only it don't sound nat'ral. He's a hellion at scoutin'. Poor Baby Kirst!I must 'low it's best for him to be wiped out, but it's too bad hecouldn't 'a' made his last fight along with us. There's th' colonel in hisshirt-sleeves smokin' his pipe. "

I passed on to where Lewis was sitting on a log. It was fearfully hot, asthe high hills on each side of the river shut out the free air and madethe camp an oven. On recognizing me, the colonel's eyes flickered withsurprise, as the report of my capture had spread far. He rose and took myhand and quietly said:

"I knew they couldn't hold you unless they killed you on the spot. Whatabout Miss Dale?"

I informed him of her safety and his face lighted wonderfully. 

"That's good!" he softly exclaimed. "A beautiful young woman, the kindthat Virginia is always proud of. Ericus Dale was lucky to die withoutbeing tortured. Now for your news; for you must be bringing some. "

I told him of the mighty gathering at Chillicothe and of the influx of thefierce Ottawas. Lost Sister's warning to me to keep clear of the GreatKanawha impressed him deeply. It convinced him, I think, that the astuteCornstalk had planned to attack the army before it could cross the Ohio, and that the Shawnees on learning of the assembling at the levels knew theadvance must be down the Kanawha. The Indian who escaped after Clay waskilled was back on the Scioto by this time. After musing over it for a bithe insisted that it did not necessarily follow the attack would be inforce. 

"That was Cornstalk's first plan. But now he knows Governor Dunmore has anarmy at the mouth of the Little Kanawha. He may choose to attack himinstead of me. I hope not, but there's a strong chance he'll do that whilemaking a feint to fool me, and then float down the river and give me areal battle. "

He kindly offered to attach me to one of the companies as sergeant, withthe possibility of appointing me an ensign, but I preferred to act asscout and enjoy more independence of action. 

"That's the trouble, " he remarked. "All these fellows want to be scoutsand range the woods free of discipline. They want to whip the Indians butthey want to do it their own way. They persist in wasting ammunition, andit now looks as if we would go into battle with less than one-fourth of apound of powder per man. 

"If any man speaks up and says he is the best marksman in Virginia thenevery man within hearing challenges him to prove it. And they'll step oneside and have a shooting-match, even if they know Cornstalk's army iswithin a couple of miles of us. They're used to bear- and deer-meat. Theydon't want to eat bullock-meat. I'll admit the beef is a bit tough. Andevery morning some of them break the rules by stealing out to kill game. This not only wastes powder, but keeps the outposts alarmed. "

Before I was dismissed I asked about Cousin. The colonel's face becameanimated. 

"Oh, the young man with the sad history? He's out on a scout. That fellowis absolutely fearless. I am surprised every time he lives to return tomake a report. It's useless to lay down a route for him to scout; heprowls where he will. But he's valuable, and we let him have his ownway. "

On the next day we marched to the mouth of the Elk where Colonel CharlesLewis was completing arrangements for transporting the supplies down theriver. While at that camp I went on my first scout and found Indiantracks. One set of them measured fourteen inches in length. The men wentand looked at the signs before they would accept my measurements. 

The camp was extremely busy, for we all knew the crisis was drawing close. Our armorer worked early and late unbreeching the guns having wet charges. Three brigades of horses were sent back to Camp Union for more flour. Iwent with Mooney on a scout up Coal River and we found Indian signs fourmiles from camp. Other scouts were sent down the Kanawha and up the Elk. 

On returning, I found Cousin impatiently waiting for me to come in. He hadchanged and his bearing puzzled me. He was given to laughing loudly at thehorse-play of the men, yet his eyes never laughed. I took him outside thecamp and without any circumlocution related the facts concerning hissister and Kirst. 

"Tell me again that part 'bout how she died, " he quietly requested when Ihad finished. I did so. He commented:

"For killing that redskin I owe you more'n I would if you'd saved my lifea thousand times. So little sister is dead. No, not that. Now that womanis dead I have my little sister back again. I took on with this army so'sI could reach the Scioto towns. To think that Kirst got way up there! I'low he had a man's fight to die in. That's the way. Morris, I'm obleegedto you. I'll always remember her words 'bout sendin' a little sister tome. Now I've got two of 'em. We won't talk no more 'bout it. "

With that he turned and hurried into the woods. 

The men continued firing their guns without having obtained permission, and Colonel Lewis was thoroughly aroused to stop the practise. He directedthat his orders of the fifteenth be read at the head of each company, withorders for the captains to inspect their men's stock of ammunition andreport those lacking powder. This reduced the waste, but there was nostopping the riflemen from popping away at bear or deer once they were outof sight of their officers. 

I had hoped Cousin would return and be my companion on the next scout, butas he failed to show up I set off with Mooney for a second trip up theCoal. This time we discovered signs of fifteen Indians making toward theKanawha below the camp. We returned with the news and found a wave ofdrunkenness had swept the camp during our absence. 

The sutlers were ordered to bring no more liquor into camp, and to sellfrom the supply on hand only on a captain's written order. This served tosober the offenders speedily. The scouts sent down the Kanawha returnedand reported two fires and five Indians within fifteen miles of the Ohio. It was plain that the Indians were dogging our steps day and night, andthe men were warned not to straggle. 

We were at the Elk Camp from the twenty-fourth to the thirtieth, and onthe latter date the canoemen loaded their craft, and the pack-horse menand bullock-drivers drew two days' rations and started down-river. Itrained for three days and on October second we were camped near the mouthof the Coal. It was there that Cousin appeared, a Mingo scalp hanging athis belt. He informed Colonel Lewis he had been to the mouth of the river, making the down-trip in a canoe, and that as yet no Indians had crossedexcept small bands of scouts. 

Breaking camp, we encountered rich bottom-lands, difficult to traversebecause of the rain. Every mile or two there were muddy creeks, and thepack-horses were nearly worn out. Several desertions were now reportedfrom the troops, a hostility to discipline rather than cowardice being theincentive. Another trouble was the theft of supplies. 

As we advanced down the river signs of small bands of Indians becamenumerous; scarcely a scout returned without reporting some. I saw nothingof Cousin until the sixth of October, and as we were finishing aneight-mile march through long defiles and across small runs and wereentering the bottom which extends for four miles to the Ohio. The firstthat I knew he was with us was when he walked at my side and greeted:

"There's goin' to be a screamin' big fight. "

He offered no explanation of his absence and I asked him nothing. It hadrequired five weeks to march eleven hundred men one hundred and sixtymiles and to convey the necessary supplies the same distance. 

As we scouts in the lead entered the bottom Cousin called my attention tothe high-water marks on the trees. Some of these measured ten feet. ThePoint itself is high. From it we had a wide view of the Ohio and Kanawha, up- and down-stream. It was Cousin who discovered a writing made fast to atree, calling attention to a paper concealed in the hollow at the base ofthe tree. We fished it out and found it was addressed to Colonel Lewis. Cousin and I took it to him. Before opening it, he gave Cousin a shrewdglance and remarked:

"I am glad to see you back, young man. "

"If I've read the signs right I 'low I'm glad to git back, " was the gravereply. 

The letter was from Governor Dunmore, and he wrote to complain because ourcolonel had not joined him at the Little Kanawha. He now informed ourcommander he had dropped down to the mouth of the Big Hockhocking, and wewere expected to join him there. After frowning over the communication, Colonel Lewis read it aloud to some of his officers and expressed himselfvery forcefully. It was soon camp gossip, and every man was free todiscuss it. 

Much anger was expressed against Governor Dunmore. And it did seem absurdto ask our army to move up the Ohio some sixty miles when such a tediousmaneuver would lead us farther from the Indian towns than we were while atthe Point. Had the order been given for the army to go to the Hockhockingthere would have been many desertions. 

I learned later that the letter was brought to the Point by Simon Kentonand Simon Girty, who with Michael Cresap were serving as scouts withDunmore. While the camp was busily criticizing the governor our scoutsfrom the Elk came in and reported seeing Indians hunting buffalo. Whenwithin six miles of the Point, they found a plowshare, somesurveying-instruments, a shirt, a light blue coat and a human underjaw-bone. 

Shelby Cousin said the dead man was Thomas Hoog, who with two or three ofhis men were reported killed by the Indians in the preceding April whilemaking improvements. Cousin insisted his death had been due to wildanimals or an accident, after which the animals had dragged his remainsinto the woods. He argued that an Indian would never have left the coat orthe instruments. 

We passed the seventh and eighth of the month in making the camp sanitaryand in building a shelter for the supplies yet to arrive down the river. Preparations also went ahead for moving the army across the Ohio. Most ofthe scouts were sent out to hunt up lost beeves, while a sergeant andsquad were despatched with canoes to the Elk after flour. 

Three men came in from the Elk and reported that Colonel Christian wascamped there with two hundred and twenty men, that he had only sixteenkettles, and was fearing his men would be ill from eating too much roastmeat "without broth. " On the eighth there arrived more letters fromGovernor Dunmore, in which His Lordship expressed his surprise andannoyance because of our failure to appear at the Hockhocking. 

This time Colonel Lewis was quite open in expressing his disgust at thegovernor's lack of strategy. The Kanawha was the gate to Augusta, Botetourt and Fincastle Counties. To leave it and move up-river wouldleave the way open for the red army to stream into Virginia and work itssavagery while the colonials were cooped up on the Ohio or hunting Indianwigwams in the wilderness. 

In the package was a letter to our colonel from Colonel Adam Stephens, second in command to His Excellency, which was given wide publicity. Colonel Stephens reported very disagreeable news from Boston. It was tothe effect that General Gage had fired on the people at Cambridge. Laterwe learned that while some gun-powder and two cannon had been seized byHis Majesty's troops there had been no massacre of the provincials. Butwhile the rumor remained uncontradicted it caused high excitement andgreat rage. 

On the evening of the ninth Cousin and I were ordered out to scout up theriver beyond Old Town Creek. Our camp was near the junction of the Kanawhaand the Ohio, almost at the tip of the Point. About a fourth of a mile tothe east is Crooked Creek, a very narrow stream at that season of theyear, with banks steep and muddy. It skirts the base of some low hills andflows nearly south in emptying into the Kanawha. Half-way between our campand Old Town Creek, which empties into the Ohio, is a small stretch ofmarsh-land extending north and south, with bottom-lands on each side. 

Cousin and I planned to keep along the Ohio shore until a few miles aboveOld Town Creek, when we would separate, one returning along our course tokeep an eye on the river, the other circling to the east and swinging backthrough the low hills drained by Crooked Creek. This double reconnaissanceshould reveal any spies. 

The men were very anxious to cross the river and come in contact with theIndians. They believed they would have the allied tribes within theirgrasp once they reached the Scioto. They were cheered by the report thatthe army would cross on the morrow. One tall Watauga boy boastfullyproclaimed that all the Shawnees and Mingos beyond the Ohio wouldn't "makemore'n a breakfast for us. " Davis, because a man of family and moreconservative, insisted it would be a "pretty tough chunk of a fight. "

This was the optimistic spirit Cousin and I left behind us when we set outat sunset. Cousin was in a new mood. There was a certain wild gaiety, rather a ferocious gaiety, in his bearing. His drawn face had lost some ofthe hard lines and looked almost boyish and his eyes were feverishlyalight. He seemed possessed of superabundant physical strength, and inpure muscular wantonness went out of his way to leap the fallen timberswhich littered the shore. 

As darkness increased he ceased his wild play and became the prince ofscouts. We advanced most leisurely, for we had all night if we cared tostay out. We halted when abreast of the marsh-land and seated ourselves onthe banks of the Ohio and watched the starlight find a mirror in thewater. After a protracted silence he abruptly asked:

"My sister said she was sendin' me a new sister, you say?"

"Those were her words. "

"I wish she could know to-night I ain't needin' any new sister. Wish shecould know right now that she's always been my sister. When I reckoned I'dlost her I was just mistook. She was just gone away for a little while. She found a mighty hard an' rough trace to travel. I 'low the Almightywill have to give her many belts afore He smooths out the path in hermind. I 'low it'll take a heap o' presents to make up for the burrs an'briers an' sharp stones she had to foot it over. Thank God she diedwhite!"

"Amen to that!"

After another silence he asked:

"You 'low she's with daddy an' mammy?"

"I do. "

"That's mighty comfortin' to figger on, " he slowly mused. "Much like ayounker gittin' mighty tired an' goin' back home to rest. Daddy an' mammywill do a heap to make it up to her for what she had to go through. Yes, Ican count on 'em, even if the Almighty happened to be too busy to noticeher when she first crossed the border. "

Dear lad! He meant no irreverence. 

The night was calm and sounds carried easily. We had passed beyond wherewe could hear the men singing and merry-making in camp, but the uneasymovements of a turkey and the stealthy retreat of a deer seemed very closeat hand. The soft pad-pad of a woods cat approached within a few feetbefore the creature caught the scent, and the retreat was marked by aseries of crashings through the undergrowth. 

After a while we rose and continued up the river. 

"No Injuns along here, " murmured Cousin. 

We reached Old Town Creek and crossed it without discovering any signs ofthe enemy; nor were we looking for anything more serious than a strayscout or two. We went nearly two miles above the creek and turned backafter deciding we would separate at the creek, he taking the hills routeand I following the river. We reached the creek and he was about to leaveme when we both heard a new note, a splashing noise, very faint. Our handsmet in a mutual desire to grab an arm and enforce attention. 

"No fish made it, " I whispered. 

"No fish, " he agreed. "There!"

The splashing came from across the several hundred yards of the Ohio'sdeep and silent current. It was repeated until it became almostcontinuous, and it gradually grew louder. 

"Rafts!" shrilly whispered Cousin. 

"They are paddling fast. "

"No! But there are many rafts, " he corrected. 

We retreated up-stream a short distance and concealed ourselves in a deepgrowth. To the sound of poles and paddles was added the murmuring ofguttural voices. Then for a climax a raft struck against the bank and alow voice speaking Shawnee gave some sharp orders. 

"One!" counted Cousin. 

As he spoke another raft took the shore, and then they grounded so rapidlythat it was impossible to count them. Orders were given, and the Indiansworked back from the river and proceeded to make a night-camp. The landinghad been made at the mouth of the creek, but the savages had spread out, and some of them were due east from us. 

"There's a heap of 'em!" whispered Cousin. "Lucky for us they didn't fetchany dawgs along, or we'd be smelled out an' have to leg it. "

"I hear squaws talking. "

"Kiss the devil if you don't! There's boys' voices, too. They've fetchedtheir squaws an' boys along to knock the wounded an' dyin' in the head. "

"Then that means they feel sure of winning. "

And my heart began thumping until I feared its beating would be audible ata distance. And before my inner gaze appeared a picture of Lewis' armydefeated and many victims being given over to the stake. 

"Keep shet!" cautioned Cousin. "There it is again! A Mingo talkin', aSeneca, I'd say--Hear that jabber! Delaware--Wyandot--Taway (Ottawa). Witha blanket o' Shawnee pow-wow. By heavens, Morris! This is Cornstalk'swhole force. They've learned that Dunmore is at the Hockhockin' an' willbe j'inin' up with Lewis any day, an' old Cornstalk thinks to lick Lewisafore Dunmore's men can git along!"

It was now after midnight, and I knew we should be back at camp andwarning Colonel Lewis of his peril. I knew from my last talk with him thathe did not expect to meet the Indians in any numbers until we had crossedthe Ohio. Our failure to find any Indians at the Point and our prospectsfor an immediate crossing conduced to this belief. 

The day before all the scouts had been instructed as to our maneuvers oncewe crossed the river and were searching for ambushes. It was terrible tothink of our army asleep only three miles away. I urged an immediatereturn, but Cousin coolly refused to go until he had reconnoiteredfurther. 

"You stay here till I've sneaked down to the mouth o' the creek, " hewhispered. "'Twon't do for both of us to git killed an' leave no one totake the word to Lewis. "

"But why run any risk?" I anxiously demanded; for I feared he had some madprank in mind which would betray our presence and perhaps stop our warningto the army. 

"We must l'arn somethin' as to how many o' the red skunks there be, " hereplied. 

"To venture near their camp will mean discovery. They're verywide-awake. "

"I ain't goin' near their camp, " he growled in irritation. "I want to lookover them rafts. I can tell from them how many warriors come over, orpretty close to it. "

He slipped away and left me to do the hardest of the work--the work ofwaiting. It seemed a very long time before I heard the bushes rustle. Idrew my ax, but a voice whispering "Richmond, " the parole for the night, composed me. Feeling his way to my side he gravely informed me:

"There's seventy-eight or nine rafts an' a few canoes. It's goin' to be afine piece o' fightin'. At least there's a thousand warriors on this sidean' a lot o' squaws an' boys. "

I estimated our army at eleven hundred and I thanked God they were allfrontiersmen. 

Cousin now was as eager to go as I; and leaving our hiding-place, weworked north until we felt safe to make a détour to the east. Our progresswas slow as there was no knowing how far the Indian scouts were ranging. Once we were forced to remain flat on our stomachs while a group ofwarriors passed within a dozen feet of us, driving to their camp somestrayed beeves from the high rolling bottom-lands to the east. When thelast of them had passed I observed with great alarm a thinning out of thedarkness along the eastern skyline. 

"Good God! We'll be too late!" I groaned. "Let's fire our guns and givethe alarm!"

"Not yet!" snarled my companion. "I must be in the thick o' that fight. We're too far east to git to camp in a hustle. We must sneak atween thehills an' that small slash (Virginian for marsh). Foller me. "

We changed our course so as to avoid the low hills drained by CrookedCreek, and made after the warriors. About an hour before sunrise we wereat the head of the marsh, and in time to witness the first act of theday's great drama. Two men were working out of the fallen timber, andCousin threw up his double-barrel rifle. I checked him, saying:

"Don't! They're white!"

"Renegades!"

"John Sevier's younger brother, Valentine. T'other is Jim Robertson. "

"Then Lewis knows. He sent 'em to scout the camp. "

"They're after game. James Shelby is sick with the fever. Yesterdaymorning he asked them to perch a turkey for him. Signal them. They knownothing about the Indians!"

Cousin risked discovery by standing clear of the bushes and waving hishat. "There comes two more of 'em!" he exclaimed. 

This couple was some distance behind the Watauga boys, but I recognizedthem. One was James Mooney, my companion on the Coal River scout. Theother was Joseph Hughey. 

I jumped out and stood beside Cousin and waved my arms frantically. One ofthem caught the motion and said something. The four paused and stared atus. We made emphatic gestures for them to fall back. At first they wereslow to understand, thinking, as Sevier told me afterward, that I waspointing out some game. Then they turned to run, Robertson and Sevierfiring their rifles to the woods to the north of us. 

These were the first guns fired in the battle of Point Pleasant. From thewoods came the noise of a large body of men advancing. A ripple of shotswas sent after the hunters. Hughey and Mooney halted and returned thefire. A streak of red some distance ahead of the Shawnees' position, andclose to the river-bank, dropped Hughey dead. This shot was fired byTavenor Ross, a white man, who was captured by the Indians when a boy andwho had grown up among them. 

Mooney, Robertson and young Sevier were now running for the camp, passingbetween the Ohio bank and the marsh. We raced after them just as a mannamed Hickey ran from the bushes and joined them. The Indians kept up ascattering fire and they made much noise as they spread out through thewoods in battle-line. They supposed we were the scouts of an advancingarmy. 

It is the only instance I know of where insubordination saved any armyfrom a surprise attack, and possibly from defeat. To escape detectionwhile breaking the orders against foraging, the five men named had stolenfrom the camp at an early hour. 

By the time Cousin and I passed the lower end of the marsh small bodies ofIndians were making for the hills along Crooked Creek; others werefollowing down the Ohio inside the timber, while their scouts racedrecklessly after us to locate our line of battle. The scouts soondiscovered that our army was nowhere to be seen. Runners were instantlysent back to inform Cornstalk he was missing a golden opportunity by notattacking at once. 

Mooney was the first to reach Colonel Lewis, who was seated on a log inhis shirt-sleeves, smoking his pipe. Mooney shouted:

"More'n four acres covered with Injuns at Old Town Creek!"

Rising, but with no show of haste, Lewis called to Cousin and me: "Whatabout this?"

"An attack in force, sir, I believe, " I panted. 

He glanced at Cousin, who nodded and then ducked away. 

"I think you are mistaken, " the colonel coldly remarked. "It must be a bigscouting-party. " I tried to tell him what Cousin and I had seen and heard. But he ignored me and ordered the drums to beat To Arms. But already theborder men were turning out and diving behind logs and rocks even whilethe sleep still blurred their eyes. 

Colonel Lewis ordered two columns of one hundred and fifty men each tomarch forward and test the strength of the enemy. The colonel's brotherCharles led the Augusta line to the right. Colonel William Flemingcommanded the left--Botetourt men. The two columns were about two hundredyards apart, and their brisk and businesslike advance did the heart goodto behold. 

No one as yet except the hunters and Cousin and I realized the threehundred men were being sent against the full force of the Ohio Indians. Colonel Lewis resumed his seat and continued smoking. 

"You're nervous, Morris. It can't be more than a large scouting-party, orthey'd have chased you in. "

"They came over on seventy-eight rafts!" I replied, turning to race afterColonel Charles Lewis' column. 

The Augusta men were now swinging in close to Crooked Creek where itskirts the foot of the low hills. As I drew abreast of the head of thecolumn we were fired upon by a large force of Indians, now snuglyensconced behind trees and fallen timber along the creek. We were then notmore than a quarter of a mile from camp. The first fire was tremendouslyheavy and was quickly followed by a second and third volley. The Augustamen reeled, but quickly began returning the fire, the behavior of the menbeing all that a commander could desire. They were forced to give ground, however, as the odds were heavy. 

On our left crashed a volley as the Botetourt men were fired on. ColonelLewis ordered his men to take cover, then turned to Captain BenjaminHarrison and cried:

"This is no scouting-party! But my brother will soon be sendingreinforcements. "

He had hardly spoken before he spun half-way around, a surprisedexpression on his face. 

"I'm wounded, " he quietly said. 

Then handing his rifle to a soldier, he called out to his men:

"Go on and be brave!"

With that he began walking to the camp. I ran to help him, but he motionedme back, saying:

"Your place is there. I'm all right. "

So I left him, a very brave soldier and a Christian gentleman, to make hisway alone while his very minutes were numbered. 

Half a dozen of our men were down and the rest were slowly giving ground. Up to the time Colonel Lewis left us I had seen very few Indians, and onlymere glimpses at that. Now they began showing themselves as they crowdedforward through the timber, confident they were to slaughter us. Above thenoise of the guns, the yells and shouts of red and white combatants, rosea deep booming voice, that of Cornstalk, and he was shouting:

"Be strong! Be strong! Push them into the river!"

We dragged back our dead and wounded as with a reckless rush the Indiansadvanced over logs and rocks up to the very muzzles of our guns. Butalthough the Augusta line gave ground the men were not suffering frompanic, and the smashing volley poured into the enemy did great damage andchecked their mad onslaught. 

Never before did red men make such a determined charge. In an instantthere were a score of individual combats, backwoodsman and savage beingclinched in a death-struggle with ax and knife. Now our line stiffened, and the very shock of their attack seemed to hurl the Indians back. Stillwe would have been forced back to the camp and must have suffered cruellosses if not for the timely reinforcements brought up on the run byColonel John Field, veteran of Braddock's and Pontiac's Wars. 

He led Augusta and Botetourt men, for it was no longer possible to keepthe two lines under their respective commanders, nor did any captain forthe rest of the day command his own company as a unit. With the coming upof Colonel Field the Indians immediately gave ground, then charged mostviciously as our men pursued. This maneuver was one of Cornstalk's cunningtactics, the alternate advance and retreat somewhat confusing our men. 

The second attack was repulsed and the riflemen slowly gained more ground. The firing on our left was now very heavy and Colonel Field directed me tolearn how the fight there was progressing. Some of our fellows werescreaming that Fleming's column was being driven in, and our colonel hadno intention of being cut off. 

As I started toward the river I could hear Cornstalk exhorting: "Shootstraight! Lie close! Fight and be strong!"

As I withdrew from the right column I had a chance to get a better idea ofthe battle. The Indians lined the base of the hills bordered by CrookedCreek, and were posted on all the heights to shoot any whites trying toswim either the Ohio or the Kanawha. On the opposite side of the Ohio and, as I later learned on the south bank of the Kanawha, red forces had beenstationed in anticipation of our army being routed. 

As I neared the Botetourt men I could hear between volleys the Indiansshouting in unison:

"Drive the white dogs over!" meaning across the river. 

The Botetourt men were well posted and considerably in advance of theright column, as they had given but little ground while the right wasretiring after Lewis was shot. At no time did either column fight at arange of more than twenty yards, and when I crawled among Fleming's menthe range was not more than six yards, while here and there in the deepergrowth were hand-to-hand struggles. 

"A big chunk of a fight!" screamed a shrill voice, and Cousin was besideme, wearing a brilliant scarlet jacket. As he was crawling by me I caughthim by the heel and dragged him back. 

"You fool! Take that coat off!" I yelled. For the vivid splotch of colormade him a tempting target for every Indian gun. And the Shawnees wereskilful marksmen even if less rapid than the whites because of theirinability to clean their fouled weapons. 

Cousin drew up his leg to kick free, then smiled sweetly and said:

"It's my big day, Morris. Don't go for to meddle with my medicine. Everything's all right at last. I've found the long trace that leads to mylittle sister. She's waitin' to put her hand in mine, as she used to do onKeeney's Knob. "

With that he suddenly jerked his leg free and sprang to his feet andstreaked toward the savages, his blood-curdling panther-screechpenetrating the heavier vibrations of the battle. 

He was lost to view in the brush and I had my work to do. I kept along theedge of the timber, and answered many anxious queries as to the fate ofthe right column. I reassured them, but did not deem it wise to tell ofColonel Lewis' wound. I found the column quite close to the river and bythe stubborn resistance it was meeting I knew the Indians were stronglyposted. 

"Why don't you whistle now?" they kept howling in concert, and referringto our fifes which were still. 

"We'll kill you all, and then go and speak to your big chief (Dunmore), "was one of their promises. 

And there were other things shouted, foul epithets, which I am ashamed toadmit could only have been learned from the whites. And repeatedly didthey encourage one another and seek to intimidate us by yelling:

"Drive the white dogs over the river! Drive them like cattle into thewater!"

While I kept well covered and was completing my reconnaissance I washorrified to see Colonel Fleming walk into the clear ground. He fired atan Indian who had showed himself for a moment to make an insultinggesture. He got his man, and the next second was struck by three balls, two passing through his left arm and the third penetrating his leftbreast. 

He called out to his captains by name and sharply ordered them to holdtheir ground while he went to the rear to be patched up. He was answeredby hearty cheers, but his absence was to be keenly felt by his officers. He started to work his way to the Point, but the exertion of bending anddodging from tree to stump sorely taxed him. I ran to his aid just asDavis, of Howard's Creek, sprang from behind a log and seized his rightarm. Between us we soon had him back in camp and his shirt off. The lungtissue had been forced through the wound a finger's length. He asked me toput it back. I attempted it and failed, whereat he did it himself withoutany fuss. 

On returning to the right column to make a belated report to Colonel FieldI ran across the body of Mooney, my partner on several scouts. He had beenshot through the head. It may here be said that nearly all the dead onboth sides were shot through the head or chest, indicating the accuracy ofmarksmanship on both sides. 

I found the Augusta men steadily pushing the Indians back. But when theygave ground quickly, as if in a panic, it was to tempt the foolhardy intorushing forward. The riflemen had learned their lesson, however, andmaintained their alignment. The advance was through nettles and briers, upsteep muddy banks and over fallen timber. 

The warriors rushed repeatedly to the very muzzles of our guns, and thusdisplayed a brand of courage never surpassed, if ever equaled, by theNorth American Indian before. It was Cornstalk who was holding them to thebloody work. His voice at times sounded very close, but although we allknew his death would count a greater coup than the scalps of a hundredbraves we never could get him. He was too shrewd and evasive. 

Once I believed I had him, for I had located him behind a detached moundof fallen timber. He was loudly calling out for his men to be brave and tolie close, when a warrior leaped up and started to run to the rear. ThenCornstalk flashed into view long enough to sink his ax into the coward'shead. It was all done so quickly that he dropped to cover unharmed. 

That was one of his ways of enforcing obedience, a mode of terrorizationnever before practised by a war-chief to my knowledge. It was toldafterward by the Shawnees that he killed more than that weak-hearted oneduring the long day. I saw nothing of the other chiefs who attended theconference in Cornstalk's Town while I was a prisoner. And yet they werethere, chiefs of Mingos, Wyandots, Delawares and Ottawas. 

"They're fallin' back! They're fallin' back!" yelled a voice in advance ofour first line. 

And the scream of a panther told us it was Cousin. He had worked acrossfrom the left column, and we were soon beholding his bright jacket in atangle of logs and stumps. 

The men advanced more rapidly, but did not break their line; and it wasevident the savages were giving ground in earnest. Our men renewed theircheering and their lusty shouts were answered by the column on theriver-bank, still in advance of us. 

As it seemed we were about to rush the enemy into a panic we received oursecond heavy loss of the day. Colonel Field was shot dead. He was standingbehind a big tree, reserving his fire for an Indian who had been shoutingfilthy abuse at him. Poor colonel! It was but a ruse to hold his attentionwhile savages up the slope and behind fallen timber drew a bead on him. Captain Evan Shelby assumed command and ordered the men to keep up theadvance. 

The Indians gave ground, but with no signs of confusion. Observing ourleft column was in advance of the right, Cornstalk was attempting tostraighten his line by pulling in his left. As we pressed on we discoveredthe savages were scalping their own dead to prevent their hair fallinginto our hands. From the rear of the red men came the sound of manytomahawks. Cousin, who for a moment found himself at my side, exulted:

"Curse 'em! Their squaws an' boys are cuttin' saplin's for to carry offtheir wounded! They'll need a heap o' stretchers afore this day is over!"

The sun was now noon-high and the heat was beastly. The battle was at itsclimax. The left column was near a little pond and about fifty yards fromthe river, or a fourth of a mile beyond the spot where Lewis was shot. Wehad evened up this lead, and the battle-line extended from the river andpond to Crooked Creek and half-way down the creek, running from west toeast and then southwest. 

Cornstalk's plan was to coop us up in the Point and drive us into theKanawha and Ohio. There were times when our whole line gave ground, butonly to surge ahead again. Thus we seesawed back and forth along a mileand a quarter of battle-line, with the firing equal in intensity from wingto wing. Nor had the Indians lost any of their high spirits. Their retreatwas merely a maneuver. They kept shouting:

"We'll show you how to shoot!"

"Why don't you come along?"

"Why don't you whistle now?"

"You'll have two thousand to fight to-morrow!"

But the force that held them together and impelled them to make thegreatest fight the American Indian ever put up, not even excepting thebattle of Bushy Run, was Cornstalk. Truly he was a great man, measuredeven by the white man's standards!

"Be strong! Be brave! Lie close! Shoot well!" flowed almostuninterruptedly from his lips. 

Davis, of Howard's Creek, went by me, making for the rear with a shatteredright arm and a ghastly hole through his cheek. He tried to grin onrecognizing me. Word was passed on from our rear that runners had beensent to hurry up Colonel Christian and his two hundred men. Among thecaptains killed by this time were John Murray and Samuel Wilson. It was afew minutes after the noon hour that Cousin emerged from the smoke on myright and howled:

"There's old Puck-i-n-shin-wa!"

He darted forward, clearing all obstacles with the ease of a deer. I sawthe Shawnee chief, father of Tecumseh, snap his piece at the boy. Then Isaw him go down with Cousin's lead through his painted head. Two savagessprang up and Cousin killed one with his remaining barrel. The other firedpointblank, and by the way Cousin fell I knew his object in wearing thescarlet jacket was attained. He had wished to die this day in the midst ofbattle. 

William White killed Cousin's slayer. The boy was in advance of the lineand his coat made him conspicuous. Doubtless the savages believed him tobe an important officer because of it. 

Five of them rushed in to secure his scalp, and each fell dead, and theirbodies concealed the boy from view. Up to one o'clock the fighting ragedwith undiminished fury, with never any cessation of their taunts andepithets and Cornstalk's stentorian encouragement. 

Now it is never in Indian nature to prolong a conflict once it is obviousthey must suffer heavy losses. They consider it the better wisdom to runaway and await an opportunity when the advantage will be with them. Cornstalk had been confident that his early morning attack would drive usinto the rivers, thus affording his forces on the opposite banks muchsport in picking us off. 

But so fiercely contested had been the battle that none of our dead hadbeen scalped except Hughey and two or three men who fell at the firstfire. By all that we had learned of Indian nature they should now, aftersix hours of continuous fighting, be eager to withdraw. They had foughtthe most bitterly contested battle ever participated in by their race. 

Nor had they, as in Braddock's defeat, been aided by white men. Therewere, to be true, several white men among them, such as Tavenor Ross, JohnWard and George Collet; but these counted no more than ordinary warriorsand Collet was killed before the fighting was half over. According to allprecedents the battle should have ended in an Indian rout by the time thesun crossed the meridian. Instead the savages stiffened their resistanceand held their line. 

Our men cheered from parched throats when word was passed that Collet'sbody had been found and identified. Poor devil! Perhaps it opened the longtrace to him, where everything would be made right. He was captured when achild and had responded to the only environment he had ever known. 

The case of such as Collet--yes, and of John Ward and Ross--is entirelydifferent from that of Timothy Dorman, and others of his kind, who wascaptured when a grown man and who turned renegade to revenge himself forwrongs, real or fancied, on his old neighbors. 

It was not until after seven hours of fighting that we detected anyfalling off in the enemy's resistance. Even then the savages had theadvantage of an excellent position, and to press them was extremelyhazardous business. We continued to crowd them, however, until they werelined up on a long ridge which extended from the small marsh where Cousinand I first saw Robertson and Sevier, for half a mile to the east, whereit was cut by the narrow bed of Crooked Creek. 

None of us needed to be told that so long as the enemy held this ridge ourcamp at the Point was in grave danger. From the riflemen along the Ohioword came that the Indians were throwing their dead into the river, whilesquaws and boys were dragging back their wounded. 

This had a heartening effect on us, for it indicated a doubt was creepinginto the minds of the savages. Once they permitted the possibility ofdefeat to possess them their effectiveness would decrease. Companycommanders called on their men to take the ridge, but to keep their lineintact. 

With wild cheers the men responded and buckled down to the grueling task. Every patch of fallen timber proved to be an Indian fort, where thebravest of the tribes fought until they were killed. It was stubborntraveling, but our riflemen were not to be denied. 

From along the line would come cries of:

"Remember Tygart's Valley!"

"Remember Carr's Creek!"

"Remember the Clendennins!"

And always Cornstalk's voice answered:

"Be strong! Be brave! Fight hard!"

So we struggled up the slope, gaining a yard at a time and counting it atriumph if we passed a pile of dead timber and gained another a few feetbeyond. 

When we were most encouraged the Indians began mocking us and shoutingexultingly and informing us that the warriors across the Kanawha and Ohiohad attacked our camp and were massacring the small force retained there. This statement, repeatedly hurled at us with every semblance of savagegloating, tended to weaken the men's one purpose. We could capture theridge--but! Behind our determination crawled the fear that we might beassailed in the rear at any moment. 

Captain Shelby was quick to realize the depressing influence of this kindof talk, and shouted for the word to be passed that it was an Indiantrick, that our troops were guarding the Kanawha for half a mile up thestream and that the warriors on the Indian shore could not cross overwithout the column on our left discovering the move. 

This prompted our common sense to return to us, and we remembered thatAndrew Lewis was too cool and shrewd to be caught napping. The Point wassprinkled with huge trees and it would take a big force to clear it of ourreserves; and the bulk of the enemy was before us on the ridge. 

With renewed vigor we made greater exertions and at last reached the topof the ridge and cleared it. But even then the Indians were not defeated. They charged up with ferocious energy time after time, and the best wecould do was to cling to our position and let them bring the fighting tous. So different was their behavior from any we had been familiar with inprevious engagements we began to wonder if they would violate other Indianprecedents and continue the battle into the night. 

It was not until three or four o'clock that we noticed any lessening intheir efforts to retake the ridge. At the best this afforded us only ashort breathing-spell. There were many warriors still hidden along theslopes drained by Crooked Creek. Our line was so long there was alwaysdanger of the Indians concentrating and breaking it. 

So long as we stuck to the ridge on the defensive the enemy had theadvantage of the initiative. A runner brought up word from Colonel Lewisto learn the strength of the savages in the hills along the creek, and Iwas directed to reconnoiter. 

I made for the creek from the south slope of the ridge. Sliding down themuddy bank, I ascended the opposite slope and began making my way towardthe point where the creek cut through the ridge. I encountered no Indians, although axes and knives on the ground showed where they had beenstationed before retiring. 

I passed through the cut and was suddenly confronted by what I thought atfirst must be the devil. The fellow was wearing the head of a buffalo, horns and tangled forelock and all. Through the eye-slits gleamed livingeyes. The shock of his grotesque appearance threw me off my guard for amoment. He leaped upon me and we went down the bank into the bed of thecreek. 

He had his ax ready to use but I caught his hand. His hideous mask provedto be his undoing, for as we rolled about it became twisted. I was quickto see my advantage. Relying on one hand to hold his wrist, I used all myquickness and strength and succeeded in turning the mask half-way around, leaving him blind and half-smothered. I killed him with his own ax beforehe could remove his cumbersome headgear. 

As none of his companions had come to his rescue I knew this marked theirmost advanced position in the hills. Having learned all I could withoutsacrificing my life, I began my retreat down the creek and narrowlyescaped being shot by one of our own men. 

Captain Shelby ordered me to report to Colonel Lewis, which I did, runningat top speed without attempting to keep under cover. I found the reserveshad thrown up a breastwork from the Ohio to the Kanawha, thus inclosingthe camp on the Point. It lacked half an hour of sunset when I reached thecamp. 

Colonel Lewis heard me, then ordered Captains Isaac Shelby, Arbuckle, Matthews and Stuart to lead their companies up Crooked Creek under coverof the bank until they could secure a position behind the Indians andenfilade their main line. I scouted ahead of this force. We circled theend of the Indian line, but were at once discovered. 

Instead of this being our undoing, it proved to be all in our favor. Cornstalk's spies had kept him informed of Colonel Christian's presence afew miles from the Point. He took it for granted that this force in thehills behind his line was reinforcements brought up by Christian, and thisbelief caused him to order a general retirement across Old Town Creek. Atthat time Christian was fifteen miles from the Point. Sunset found us infull possession of the battle-field. 

Leaving strong outposts, we retired to the well-protected camp, rejoicingloudly and boasting of more than two-score scalps. We carried off all ourdead and wounded. The exact Indian loss was never definitely settled butit must have equaled, if not exceeded, ours. More than a score were foundin the woods covered deep with brush, and many were thrown into theriver. 

This battle ended Dunmore's War, also known as Cresap's War and theShawnee War. So far as actual fighting and losses are considered it was adrawn battle. But as Cornstalk could not induce his men to renew theconflict, and inasmuch as they retreated before morning to the Indianshore, the victory must be held to be with the backwoodsmen. 

And yet the tribes were not entirely downcast, for during the earlyevening they continued to taunt us and to repeat their threats of bringingan army of two thousand on to the field in the morning. In fact, many ofour men believed the savages had a shade the better of the fight, andwould renew hostilities in the morning. 

That night we buried Shelby Cousin on the bank of the Kanawha and built afire over his grave to conceal it. Colonel Christian arrived at midnight, and there was some lurid profanity when his men learned they had arrivedtoo late for the fighting. One week after the battle eleven hundred troopscrossed the Ohio to carry the war to the Indian towns for a finaldecision. 

When thirteen miles south of Chillicothe, the town Governor Dunmore hadordered us to attack and destroy, a message arrived from His Lordship, directing Colonel Lewis to halt his advance, for peace was about to bemade. Hostile bands had fired upon us that very morning, and the positionwas not suitable for a camp. Colonel Lewis continued the march for a fewmiles. Another messenger arrived with orders for us to halt, for the peacewas about to be consummated. 

We went into camp on Congo Creek, about five miles from Chillicothe. Themen raged something marvelous. They insisted that no decisive battle hadbeen fought and that we had thrown away nearly a hundred lives if thefighting were not renewed. The Shawnees were in our power. What folly tolet them escape!

Dunmore and White Eyes, the friendly Delaware chief, rode into camp andconferred with Colonel Lewis; and as a result we started the next day forPoint Pleasant and Virginia. The men were all but out of bounds, sofurious were they at not being loosed at the Shawnees. 

Then began the talk that Dunmore brought on the war to keep ourbackwoodsmen busy in event the colonies rebelled against England; also, that he closed it prematurely so that the Indians might continue a menaceto the border and thus keep the frontier men at home. 

I was as hot as any against His Lordship for the way the campaign ended. We demanded blood for blood in those days; and never had the Virginiariflemen a better chance for inflicting lasting punishment on theirancient foes. And we were quick to blame His Lordship for a variety ofunwholesome motives. 

But with political rancor long since buried we can survey that campaignmore calmly and realize that as a result of the battle the northwestIndians kept quiet for the first two years of the Revolutionary War, andthat during this period Kentucky was settled and the vast continent westof the Alleghanies was saved to the Union. 

If the battle of Bushy Run took the heart out of the tribes confederatedunder Pontiac's masterly leadership, then Dunmore's War permitted us tobegin life as a republic without having the Alleghanies for our westernboundary. Nor can I hold in these latter days that His Lordship wasinsincere in waging the war; for England was against it from the first. 

I believed he pushed the war as vigorously and shrewdly as he knew how;and I believe his was the better judgment in securing the best peace-termspossible instead of heaping defeat on defeat until the allied tribes hadnothing left to bargain for. So I give His Lordship credit for making agood bargain with the Indians, and a bargain which aided the colonistsduring the struggle almost upon them. But I was very happy when ColonelAndrew Lewis drove him from Virginia. 

CHAPTER XIII

PEACE COMES TO THE CLEARING

Early winter, and the wind was crisp and cold as I rode into Howard'sCreek. Smoke rose from the cabins. I limped toward the Davis cabin, astrange shyness holding me back. Some one inside was singing:

 "Ye daughters and sons of Virginia, incline Your ears to a story of woe; I sing of a time when your fathers and mine Fought for us on the Ohio. In seventeen hundred and seventy-four, The month of October, we know, An army of Indians, two thousand or more, Encamped on the Ohio. "

There was a whirl of linsey petticoats behind me, and two plump arms wereabout my neck; and her dear voice was sobbing:

"They didn't know! I feared you were dead beyond the Ohio!"

"But I sent you a message!" I protested, patting her bowed head. "I sentword by Moulton that it was only an arrow-wound in the leg, and that Imust wait. "

"And he never came, nor brought your word! He stopped in Tygart's Valleyand sent his brother to bring Mrs. Moulton and the children. One man saidhe heard you had been hurt. I wrote to Colonel Lewis but he was not atRichfield. So I never knew!"

We walked aside, and I petted her and listened to her dear voice andforgot the cold wind biting into my thin blood, forgot I would always walkwith a slight limp. When we did awake, because the early dusk was fillingthe clearing, the singer was finishing his seventeen-stanza song:

 "As Israel did mourn and her daughters did weep, For Saul and his host on Gilbow, We'll mourn Colonel Field and the heroes who sleep On the banks of the Ohio. "

And I thought of Shelby Cousin and the others, who gave their lives thatwe might meet thus without the war-whoop interrupting our wooing. And Iwondered if our children's children would ever realize that the deathsdied at Point Pleasant made life and happiness possible for them. I prayedit might be so, for lonely graves are not so lonely if they are notforgotten. 

THE END