Ned in the Block-House: A Tale of Early Days in the West

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

  CHAPTER IX.

  WITHIN THE BLOCK-HOUSE.

  Having hurled his tomahawk with such venomous force at the vanishingfugitive, the baffled Wyandot, for the first time, seemed to think ofhis own safety.

  The momentum of his furious pursuit carried him almost against thedoor of the block-house and directly beneath the overhanging floor,built so as to allow the defenders to fire down on the heads of theirassailants. The rapid shifting of position served to confuse thegarrison to a certain extent, but the action of the Indian wasincomprehensible.

  Making a sharp turn to the left, he ran with astonishing swiftnessalong the front of the building and stockade, until he was half way tothe north-western angle, around which he had only to dart to be beyondreach of any bullet; but he seemed to think all at once that he hadmade a mistake. He stopped like a flash, turned with inconceivablequickness, and sped directly over the ground he had traversed,passing in front of the stockade and the block-house, his evidentpurpose being to reach the deserted cabin from which he had emerged inthe first place.

  As he was running with tremendous speed in front of the building,another gun was discharged at him, but he showed no sign of beingharmed, and, without a second's hesitation, made for the cabin, wherea brother brave awaited him.

  "I consider that that 'ere beats all creation!" exclaimed Jo Stinger,aggravated over the repeated escapes of the daring redskin; "all Iwant is a chance to get a pop at him."

  There was little time to spare, for the movements of the Wyandotproved him to be no ordinary athlete, and he was going for the openwindow of the cabin, like the wind.

  Jo Stinger, by the utmost haste, beat him in the novel contest, and,thrusting his gun hastily through the loophole, aimed and fired withunusual nervousness.

  "I struck him!" he exclaimed in great glee, as the warrior sprang inair, as if shot upward by a catapult.

  "You haven't harmed a hair of his head!" laughed Jim Turner, who waspeering through one of the loopholes; "it wasn't your bullet that madehim jump."

  "You're right," muttered the chagrined scout; "if I had another gun, Iwould break this one to pieces."

  "It wasn't the fault of your _rifle_," was the truthful remark of hiscompanion.

  At the very moment Jo Stinger took his hasty aim and fired his gun,the fleeing Wyandot was so near the cabin that he bounded upward fromthe ground and went through the door, as the performer in the circusbounds through the hoop covered with paper.

  The bullet which so rarely missed its mark did so in this instance bya hair's-breadth; but under such circumstances, a miss was as good asa mile, and the courageous Wyandot plunged through the entrancewithout a scratch, or so much as the "smell of fire" about hisgarments.

  He had played a most desperate game and won so brilliantly that theveteran Jo Stinger, while exasperated over his own failure, felt likecheering the exploit.

  The safety of the brave seemed to be the signal for a general firealong the lines. The Wyandots began discharging their rifles from thewood beyond the stockade, north, east and south, while Deerfoot wassomewhat alarmed to hear several shots from the river bank where hewas crouching, and at no great distance from him.

  A number crept up to the rear of the nearest cabin, into which theyentered without much danger to themselves, and from the windows ofwhich they discharged their pieces at the block-house. This seemed auseless expenditure of ammunition, but there was a chance or two ofdoing something. Some of the bullets sent from the woods and cabinsmight enter a loophole: a number did pass through the narrow windowsand were buried in the heavy logs beyond.

  Unless the inmates were specially careful, one or more of theseinvisible messengers would strike them, and it was this hope which ledthe assailants to keep up the desultory firing for more than an hoursucceeding the remarkable incidents on the clearing.

  The garrison did not throw away their ammunition: they kept a sharplookout for signs of their enemies, and, when there was a chance ofdoing execution, they were quick to take advantage of it, but therewas no shooting at random, as is too often the case, under similarcircumstances.

  While these dropping shots were heard from many different points, thefigure of the fallen Wyandot was stretched on the clearing in front ofthe block-house. It lay flat on its back, with the swarthy face turnedupward, still and motionless, and an impressive evidence of thefrightful and inexcusable enmity of the members of the same humanfamily toward each other.

  No one ventured to approach it, although the American Indian leaves noeffort untried to remove his dead from the battle-ground. They wouldhave gone forward on the present occasion to withdraw the remains, butthey could not expect immunity from the rifles of the Kentuckians.

  Under such circumstances, the dead warrior must wait until thedarkness of the night, which is the chosen season of his race forcarrying out his designs against all enemies.

  Jo Stinger, who had followed the trail and lived in the woods for manyyears, was intensely mortified over his failure, and carefullyreloading his gun, resolved that the blunder on his part should beretrieved.

  He cautioned the new arrivals, and especially the children of Mrs.Preston, to keep away from the loopholes, through which the leadenmissiles were likely to come any moment, on their mission of death.The good mother was too sensible of the peril to which they were allexposed, to allow her children to run any risk that could be avoided:there were places both above and below stairs, where no bullet couldpenetrate, and she made certain that her children never wanderedbeyond these somewhat narrow limits.

  As soon as the door was securely fastened behind the entrance ofBlossom Brown and Ned Preston, the Colonel, who, of course, was on thelower floor, grasped each in turn by the hand and congratulated themmost warmly. Mrs. Preston, as soon as it was safe, descended theladder and joined in the expressions of thankfulness.

  Both the boys were panting from their tremendous exertions, and theysat down each on a chair until they could recover breath. As Ned drewforth the letters from his inner pocket and handed them to theColonel, he said--

  "It was the hardest struggle of my life; I never want to go throughsuch another."

  "Are you hurt in any way?" asked his aunt, laying her hand on the headof her nephew, who had taken off his cap and was drawing hishandkerchief across his forehead.

  "Not in the least, and I thank heaven, for, when that Wyandot letdrive his tomahawk, it came like a cannon-ball, and if it hadn'tstruck my rifle-barrel as it did, it would have ended my days. Iwonder whether it hurt the gun," suddenly added Ned, with that rapidtransition from one subject to another which is characteristic ofboyhood.

  He examined the weapon, but although the brown barrel was pretty wellscraped, it showed no real injury, and, in accordance with theteachings of his father, Ned now proceeded to reload the piece, whilethe dull reports of the guns, overhead and along the edge of the woodsand the bank of the river, were heard.

  By this time, Blossom Brown had recovered his breath, and he imitatedthe example of his young master. When he had completed his task, heregained a great deal of his assurance.

  "Tings was sort ob lively for a while," he remarked in his offhandmanner, as though there was nothing remarkable in their escape, "but Iknowed we was comin' out all right."

  "How could you know that," asked the surprised Mrs. Preston, "when wecould not be certain, until you were both within the house?"

  "I seed from de way dat Injine drawed back his tomahawk and squintedhis eye, dat he wasn't goin' to shoot straight, and I knowed too datde tomahawk was gwine to glance along de barrel jes' as it did, whicham why I moved off to one side so dat it wouldn't tech me."

  "That won't do," said Ned, with a shake of the head; "you knew just asmuch as I did, which was nothing at all."

  "P'raps I did and p'raps I didn't," said Blossom in his loftiestmanner, throwing his head back; "I neber brag ob what I'm doin', but Ishow from de way I act dat I knows what's what. I seed dat tings wasgettin' mixed, and so I started for de house to impres
s de Colonel howit was and to git him to manage tings right."

  At this moment, Mary and Susie Preston hurried down the ladder togreet their cousin.

  "O Ned!" they shouted together, as they came near tumbling through therounds; "we're so glad to see you!"

  And the words were scarcely out of their mouths, when Susie, theyounger, leaped from the middle round straight into the arms of Ned,which were outspread to receive her. Mary embraced the waist of thesturdy lad and insisted on attention. So Ned, after kissing theyounger several times, set her down on the floor and did the same withthe elder. Then he resumed his chair, and, holding them on his knees,laughed and talked as though he had passed through no such fearfulscene as we have described, and as though no peril was yet impendingover their heads.

  "I knew the wicked Indians wouldn't hurt you," said little Susie,turning her pretty face up to that of her cousin.

  "And how could you know that, little one?"

  "'Cause Mary and I prayed to God, when we saw you coming across theclearing, to take care of you."

  "Well, I prayed hard too," said Ned, "and then did the best I knewhow, and I think God always takes care of those who do that: it isn'tany use of praying unless you try to help yourselves."

  This was orthodox, though the sentiment was not very original, and thelittle sisters subscribed to it as fully as though they had beentaught it at their mother's knee.

  Colonel Preston had delivered the letters to the parties to whom theybelonged, and had read his own. He had looked out for the opportunityto use his gun, but saw none, and he now turned about and gave hiswhole attention to his "recruits."

  "Where is Deerfoot?" was his first natural question.

  "He was on the edge of the clearing, when we left, and I suppose he isthere yet, unless the Wyandots have driven him out."

  "It isn't likely he has been allowed to stay there long, for I noticethat some of the shots come from that direction. How was it hebefriended you as he did?"

  "He is a great friend of mine, you know, Uncle."

  "That isn't what I mean; how was it he brought you here and helped youto enter the block-house?"

  In a few words, Ned Preston told the story which is already known tothe reader. Before it was finished, the Colonel saw plainly thepurpose of the Shawanoe youth.

  "He believed there was instant necessity for me to have more guns atcommand, and that was why he used such great exertion to run you in."

  "Do you think he did right, Uncle?"

  "I must say I cannot see the necessity of his taking such terriblerisks, when your help, although very welcome, was not so all importantthat our lives depended on it. Inasmuch as all of you were safely onthe outside, where Jo Stinger tried so hard to get, it would have beenthe wiser plan, in my opinion, for you to have made all haste to WildOaks: the distance is not so great that you could not have broughthelp to us within two or three days."

  "That is just the way I put the case to Deerfoot; but he insisted thatthe first thing to be done was to place us inside the block-house, andnothing could change his view. He knows so much more about such thingsthan we, that I could not refuse to do as he wished."

  "He may have had reasons which he has not made known, for he is anextraordinary Indian, although still a boy."

  "That arrow which came through the window was a surprise, was it not?"

  "A very great one: no one had any thought that it was anything otherthan a hostile one. I supposed it was intended to set fire to thebuilding."

  "Did you see it coming?"

  "None of us saw it; but the thud it made, when it struck, told us itsnature, and I went down to find out whether it was likely to do anydamage. The moment my eyes rested on it, I noticed the paper tiedaround the shaft: that told the story, of course, and soon every onewithin knew the message. Well, you were not long in getting the signalyou asked for, and you know the rest. That was a wonderful shot of theyoung Shawanoe."

  "And would you believe, Uncle, that he told me after making it, that,if he had missed sending the arrow through the window, it would havebeen the death of all three of us."

  "In what way?"

  "The Wyandots would have found it and would have been quick to learnwhat it meant: then, as he said, we were in such a position that wecould not get away from them."

  "I have no doubt he spoke the truth, which shows what a fearful riskhe ran; but he must have had great confidence in his ability to usehis bow."

  "And he has good reason for his confidence, as he has proven more thanonce; but, in spite of all his skill, I cannot help feeling that hehas put himself in a trap from which he cannot free himself. Becausethe Wyandots have surrounded the block-house, and because some of themare always watching it, they must have seen the flight of the shaftthrough the air."

  "If they did, they could not have known its errand."

  "No, but they would recall that none of them use the bow except toshoot burning arrows, and they would be apt to suspect something waswrong."

  "They often use such things to set fire to buildings."

  "But this was not one, as they could have seen with but a singleglance; and, had it been, they would have known all about it, if itwas discharged by one of their own party."

  "Ned," said Colonel Preston, "I have been talking against my ownconvictions, just to see what you thought about it: I agree with you.Subtle as the Shawanoe is, beyond any of his years, he has done athing for which I cannot see the reason, and I believe he has placedhimself in peril that admits of no escape. If such proves to be thecase, he has also deprived himself of the opportunity to do us thegreat service we need."

  "'Scuse me," interrupted Blossom Brown, who had been showinguneasiness for several minutes, and who was now snuffing the air in asuggestive way; "I tinks I smell corn bread, and I haben't dined dismornin' yet."