A Virginia Scout

by Hugh Pendexter

  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' ma
de 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!"groa
ned 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 maket
he 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 minute
s, 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.