CHAPTER X.
FLAMING MESSENGERS.
Mrs. Preston laughed and asked the boys to pardon her for havingforgotten, in the excitement of the occasion, the duty of hospitality.The morning meal had been furnished the others, and she now gave hernephew and Blossom Brown the best she could prepare.
The two were ahungered and ate heartily. It was a striking commentaryon the perils of the life of the early settlers that, while they werethus engaged, the sound of the rifles was heard, as they were firedfrom the upper story, in answer to the shots from the Wyandots.
But we can become accustomed to almost any danger, and the appetitesof the re-enforcements were not affected by what was going on aroundthem. The windows on the first floor admitted several bullets from theguns of the dusky marksmen, but every person was careful to keep outof range. When the meal was finished, all climbed the ladder to thesecond story, where the boys were welcomed by the men who stood at theloopholes with their smoking guns in their hands.
There was more security there, because the openings through which theleaden balls could enter were much smaller; but, as evidence of themarksmanship of their enemies, Jo Stinger informed them that threebullets had struck the interior walls, one of which actually camealong the barrel of a gun, narrowly missing Megill who was in the actof thrusting it forth.
"That is well for the Wyandots," said the Colonel, "but have you doneanything to teach them that the skill is not all on their side?"
"We suspect we have: Jim caught sight of a warrior creeping along fora position behind the cabin yonder, and when he fired, the fellowacted as though something struck him."
"And have not _you_, the best marksman in the company, succeeded indoing as well as he?"
"He has done better," replied Turner; "for one of the rascals in thecabin out there had the impudence to thrust forth his painted face inplain sight; and when Jo drew bead on him and fired, he dropped outof view and has not been seen since."
"I hope it was the one who flung his tomahawk at me, and which isstill sticking in the door," said Ned Preston.
"It couldn't have been," said the hunter, with an expressive shrug,"for if it had been, I would have missed him. I never made such a messin all my life as I did a while ago."
"Accidents will happen," laughed the Colonel; "and we have everyreason to congratulate ourselves that no one has been harmed, thoughwe have been exposed to great danger. It was a most providential thingthat I learned of the coming of the war party, before they were readyfor the attack."
"Have you any idea of the number in the woods?" asked Jo Stinger.
"My nephew Ned tells me that Deerfoot the Shawanoe, who ought to bethe best authority, says there are certainly fifty, for he saw nearlythat many, and he thinks it more than likely there are twice thatnumber."
"I have no doubt there are all of a hundred," observed Jo Stinger,"judging from the way they sent in the shots a few minutes ago; butthey have stopped, because they must see that nothing can be gained bysuch wild firing."
The hunter was right in his last remark, the stillness being asprofound as if no living person was within miles of them.
Colonel Preston told all that had been learned through his nephew ofthe doings of Deerfoot the Shawanoe.
"He has put himself in a bad fix," said Stinger, with another shake ofthe head: "I know he is one of the cutest varmints in the wilds ofKentucky, but there are some things which he can't do, and I believehe has undertook one of 'em now."
"I am afraid so, but I hope not."
"There has been something going on out there by the Licking, wherethat arrow of his came from, and, if I ain't mistook, it means theyhave dropped down on him this time."
Ned Preston heard these words with a pang, for the death or sufferingof the Shawanoe youth would have been an affliction to him like theloss of a brother. There was that unswerving loyalty, self-sacrificingfriendship, and astonishing woodcraft which go to make up the idealAmerican Indian, and which, though rarely encountered in these laterdays, still actually existed a century or more ago, as it does nowamong the aboriginal inhabitants of our country. Not often was itseen, but there are historical facts which attest the truth of suchcharacters belonging to the Algonquin family of red men.
"It looks to me as if Heaven raised up Deerfoot to be such a friend tothe white people, as Pocahontas was during the early New Englandsettlements."
Such was the thought that had come to Ned Preston more than once andwhich thought was the echo of the one uttered by his father monthsbefore. The lad did not repeat the words now, but the expression ofpain which crossed his face, told his anguish more impressively thanthe words themselves could have done.
Without making reply, the youth stepped to one of the loopholes on thewestern side of the block-house and looked out toward the river,fixing his gaze on the point where he had parted company with theIndian youth.
Everything was as quiet as at "creation's morn." The glimmer of theflowing Licking, the dim, solemn woods, the unsightly stumps on theclearing, the blue sky above and beyond--all these wore the peacefullook they wore when no peril threatened the diminutive settlement.
Only one figure--that of the Wyandot warrior, stark and stiff in thesunlight--spoke of the dreadful scenes that had been enacted on thatspot such a brief while before.
Ned scrutinized the little clump of bushes which had sheltered theyoung Shawanoe, when making his marvelous shot with his bow and arrow,but not the first sign of life was visible.
"I don't know whether to take heart from that or not," said the lad tohimself; "for, if they had captured Deerfoot, I should think theywould make some display over it, so as to impress us."
"If they got the young redskin," observed Jo Stinger, standing at theelbow of Ned, "it wouldn't have been _there_; that varmint would havemade a fight, and he would have given them a good run before theybrought him down."
Ned Preston felt the force of this declaration, but he stood silentseveral minutes longer, still watching the bushes with a weak hopethat they would give some sign that would bid him take heart.
But he was disappointed, and, withdrawing his gaze, he looked at thewell which stood very near the middle of the square within thestockade.
"Uncle," said Ned, addressing his relative without regard to hismilitary title, "I heard you tell father that you meant to dig a wellinside the block-house, so the Indians could not cut off the water."
"I did intend to do so, and it ought to have been done long ago, butyou know that men, like boys, are apt to put off till to-morrow thatwhich should be done to-day."
"The Wyandots can destroy that well any night, or they can tear awaysome of the stockades so as to shoot any one who goes near it."
"That is self-evident, I am sorry to say."
"You have a barrel of water in the house?"
"Yes, an abundance for every purpose, excepting----"
The Colonel hesitated and smiled: all knew what he meant. The mostdangerous enemy they had to fear, was the very one against which noefficient provision had been made.
When the block-house was erected, and for a considerable time after,it was practically fire-proof, from the greenness of its timbers. Thehewn logs, plastered between with dried clay, could not be easilyignited under the most favorable circumstances, if thoroughly seasonedby the elements; but, when they contained an abundance of sap, therewas nothing to fear from such cause.
It was somewhat the same with the slabs which composed the roof. Theywere green at first, but they had been baked for months and years, anda dry summer had not been long ended, so that they were in reality ina very combustible state. Such solid pieces of oak do not take a flamereadily, but, to say the least, there were grounds for grave anxiety.
Colonel Preston reproached himself more than did any of his friends,for this neglect, but it must be borne in mind that the peril was onewhich threatened almost every such station on the frontier during theearly days, and it was one which the hardy pioneers had learned tocombat, with a
success that often defeated the most daring assailants.
As no immediate attack was feared, the occupants of the block-housedisposed themselves as fancy prompted. Blossom Brown stretched out ona blanket in a corner and was soon sound asleep. Megill and Turner didthe same, the others occupied seats, with the exception of Mrs.Preston, who, like a good housewife, moved hither and thither, makingpreparations for the noon-day meal of the garrison, while she kept herchildren under her eye and made sure they did not wander intodangerous portions of the building.
Ned Preston played with the little girls, told them stories and taughtthem numerous games of which they had never heard, and which he hadpicked up for their benefit.
Now and then he walked around the four sides of the room, lookingcarefully through the loopholes and exchanging theories with hisuncle, who employed himself in much the same manner.
Thus the time wore on until the day was half gone. The sky was clearerthan twenty-four hours before, and the sun was visible most of thetime, but the air was crisp and wintry, and the slight warmth from thefire on the hearth down-stairs was pleasant to those who could feelthe grateful glow.
Hours passed without any noticeable change. At noontime, there was ageneral awaking, yawning, and stretching of limbs, accompanied bypeeps through the loopholes and an expression of views respecting thesituation. Mrs. Preston passed the dinner to each, and they ate,sitting on chairs and the bench, drinking sparingly from the waterthat had been collected against such an emergency.
Most of the company were in good spirits, for the siege had notcontinued long enough for them to feel its irksomeness, nor had thedemonstrations assumed a character to cause real uneasiness andmisgiving of the issue.
After dinner, Colonel Preston and his nephew secured two hours' sleep,but both were too much concerned to remain unconscious as long as didthe others.
When Ned recovered himself, he walked straight to the southern side ofthe room and peered through one of the openings. This gave him a viewof the two cabins, deserted the day before by the pioneers who hadoccupied them so long.
He saw nothing alarming on or about these structures, but all at oncesomething arrested his eye, just beyond the first cabin and on theedge of the forest. At first, he could not conjecture what it meant,but as he looked steadily, he observed that it was a smoking point,showing that an object was burning, although Ned was far fromsuspecting its real nature.
Once or twice, he fancied he saw a person moving directly behind it;but if such were the fact, the individual kept himself well hidden.
Suddenly a tuft of smoke and a fiery point were seen to rise swiftlyin the air, and, curving over in a beautiful parabola, descend towardthe roof of the block-house. A moment after it struck with a quickthud and then slid down the steep incline to the ground.
Although the burning shaft was intended to stick fast and communicatefire to the dry roof, it did not do so, but fell harmlessly to theearth, where it lay smoking and burning directly under the eyes of thestartled garrison who looked down on it.
"I expected it," quietly remarked Colonel Preston, after surveying theburning missile.
"There will be plenty of fireworks to-night," added Jo Stinger, "forthat's a fav'rit style with the varmints."
This new demonstration had the effect of driving all the garrison tothe loopholes, Blossom Brown being among the most anxious to watch theactions of the Wyandots.
Even Mrs. Preston looked through the narrow openings with as muchinterest as did any of them, while little Mary and Susie must needs begiven a peep at their familiar surroundings.
The red men having discharged one fiery arrow, waited a long timebefore repeating the demonstration. As it was deemed likely that thenext missile would be sent from another point, a watch was maintainedon every side of the block-house.
"_Hello, here she come agin!_"
It was Jo Stinger who uttered the exclamation, and he was facing theLicking river. There was a general rush across the room to gain a viewof the flaming shaft, but before it could be done, it struck the roofabove, held a minute, and then, as if its grip was burned away, it wasdistinctly heard as it fell over and slowly slid down the planks anddropped to the ground, as did the first one.
"If they do that every time," said Ned Preston, "they won't cause usmuch harm."
"I don't like it," replied the Colonel; "it kept its place too long onthe roof."
"Not long enough to do any damage."
"I am not so sure: I must see."
Drawing a chair beneath the trap-door, he stepped on it and cautiouslyraised the planks a few inches. This permitted a view of all the roofon that side. He observed a scorched spot within reach of his hand,but there was no evidence of injury from the flaming arrow whichstruck and held a brief time.
The trap was closed again, and the Colonel stepped down from thechair. All looked expectantly at him, but beyond telling what he hadseen, he said nothing.
The interest of the garrison was such that they kept their places atthe loopholes, through which they scrutinized the clearing, the cabinsand the woods beyond, watchful to detect the first evidence of whattheir enemies were doing.
This close attention caused the autumn afternoon to seem much longerthan it really was, but nothing more took place to give the defendersany uneasiness. They saw the shades of night once more closing aboutthem, while they were environed so closely on every hand by thevengeful Wyandots, that flight for any one was utterly out of thequestion.
"Wait till night comes," said Jo Stinger meaningly; "then you willhear music and see sights!"
Every one knew what the old scout meant by his quaint language, andevery one believed he spoke the truth, as in fact he did.
Ned in the Block-House: A Tale of Early Days in the West Page 10
