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 th
is 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 giv
e 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-Hor
se-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.
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