IV
A FOREST TRAIL
To Daniel the days of his stay in Plymouth passed quickly. He hoedcorn with his cousin William and pulled weeds in the garden withJoseph and Mercy, and in the short hours allowed them for play therewas always the sea. They ran races on the sand when the tide was outand were never tired of searching for the curious things washed ashoreby the waves. One day they gathered driftwood and made a fire on theshore, hung a kettle over it and cooked their own dinner of lobstersfresh from the water. Another day William and Daniel went togetherin a rowboat nearly to Duxbury, and caught a splendid codfish thatweighed ten pounds. On another wonderful day John Howland took thetwo boys hunting with him. It was the first time Daniel had ever beenallowed to carry a gun quite like a man, and he was the proudest ladin all Plymouth that night when the three hunters returned bringingwith them two fine wild turkeys, and a hare which Daniel had shot. Heloved the grave, wise, kindly Governor and his brave wife, and grew toknow, by sight at least, most of the other people of the town.
More than ten days passed in this way, and they were beginning towonder why the Goodman did not return. The Captain had come back fromProvincetown and had been obliged to go on to Boston without waitingfor him, and there was no knowing when the Lucy Ann would appear againin Plymouth Harbor. Then one day, as Dan and William were working inthe corn-field, they saw a tired horse with two people on his backcome out of the woods. Daniel took a long look at the riders, then,throwing down his hoe and shouting, "It 's Father!" tore off at topspeed to meet him. William picked up his hoe and followed at a slowerpace. When he reached the group, Dan was up behind his father on thepillion with his arms about him, and standing before them on theground was a black boy about William's own size and age. He had only alittle ragged clothing on, and what he had seemed to make him uneasy,perhaps because he had been used to none at all in his native home faracross the sea. His eyes were rolling wildly from one face to another,and it was plain that he was in a great state of fear.
"He is but a savage as yet," said Goodman Pepperell. "He was doubtlessroughly handled on the voyage and hath naught but fear and hatred inhis heart. It will take some time to make a Christian of him! Thoumust help in the task, Daniel, for thou art near his age and canbetter reach his darkened mind. As yet he understands but one thing.He can eat like a Christian, or rather like two of them! We must tamehim with food and kindness."
"What is his name?" asked Daniel, still gazing at the boy with poppingeyes, for never before had he seen a skin so dark.
"Call him Zeb," said his father.
"Come, Zeb," said William, taking the boy gently by the arm, andlooking compassionately into the black face. "Food!" He shouted theword at him as if he were deaf, but poor Zeb, completely bewilderedby these strange, meaningless sounds, only shrank away from him andlooked about as if seeking a way of escape.
Daniel immediately sprang from the pillion and seized Zeb's other arm."Yes, Zeb, _food_--_good_," he howled, pointing down his own throatand rubbing his stomach with an ecstatic expression. It is probablethat poor Zeb understood from this pantomime that he was about to beeaten alive, for he made a furious effort to get away. The boys heldfirmly to his arms, smiling and nodding at him in a manner meant tobe reassuring, but which only convinced the poor black that theywere pleased with the tenderness of his flesh and were enjoyingthe prospect of a cannibal feast. With the slave boy between them,"hanging back and digging in his claws like a cat being pulled bythe tail," as Dan told his mother afterward, they made slow progresstoward the village.
News of the return spread quickly, and a curious crowd of childrengathered to gaze at Zeb, for many of them had never seen a negrobefore in their lives. Goodman Pepperell went at once to theGovernor's house, and when he learned that the Captain had come andgone, he decided to push on to Boston at once by land. "'T is aneasier journey than the one I have just taken," he said. "There aresettlements along the way, and time passes. I have been gone nowlonger than I thought. The farm work waits, and Susanna will fear forour safety. I must start home as soon as I can return this horse tothe owner and secure another. I would even buy a good mare, for Istand in need of one on my farm."
"At least thou must refresh thyself before starting," said theGovernor's wife cordially, and she set about getting dinner at once.
While his father went with the Governor to make arrangements for thejourney, Daniel and his cousins took charge of Zeb. With MistressBradford's permission they built a fire on the shore and cooked dinnerthere for themselves and the black boy, who was more of a show to themthan a whole circus with six clowns would be to us. As he watched theboys lay the sticks and start the blaze, Zeb's eyes rolled more wildlythan ever. No doubt he thought that he himself was to be roasted overthe coals, and when at last he saw William lay a big fish on the fireinstead, his relief was so great that for the first time he showed arow of gleaming teeth in a hopeful grin. Daniel brought him a hugepiece of it when the fish was cooked, and from that moment Zebregarded him as his friend.
It was early afternoon before all the preparations were completed andthe little caravan was ready to start on its perilous journey. Therewere two horses, and John Howland, who knew the trail well and waswise in woodcraft, was to go with them as far as Marshfield, where heknew of a horse that was for sale. Half the town gathered to see themoff. John Howland mounted first, and Daniel was placed on the pillionbehind him. Then Zeb was made to get up behind the Goodman, and offthey started, followed by a volley of farewells and messages from thegroup of Plymouth friends left behind.
For a little distance they followed the shore-line, then, plunginginto the woods, they were soon lost to view. The road was a mereblazed trail through dense forests, and it was necessary to keep asharp lookout lest they lose their way and also because no travelerwas for a moment safe from possible attack by Indians. Hour after hourthey plodded patiently along, sometimes dismounting and walking for amile or so to stretch their legs and rest the horses. There was littlechance for talk, because the path was too narrow for them to go sideby side. The day was warm, and if it had not been for slapping themosquitoes which buzzed about them in swarms, Daniel would have fallenasleep sitting in the saddle. In the late afternoon, as they cameout upon an open moor, Daniel was roused by hearing a suppressedexclamation from John Howland and felt him reach for the pistol whichhung from his belt. His horse pricked up his ears and whinnied, andthe horse on which the Goodman and Zeb were riding answered with aloud neigh. Daniel peered over John Howland's broad shoulder just intime to see a large deer disappearing into a thicket of young birchessome distance ahead of them.
"Oh!" cried Daniel, pounding on John Howland's ribs in his excitement,"let 's get him!"
"Not so fast, not so fast," said John in a low voice, pinning with hiselbow the hand that was battering his side. "Let be! Thou hast seenbut half. There was an Indian on the track of that deer. Should westep in and take his quarry, he might be minded to empty his gun intous instead! I saw him standing nigh the spot where the trail entersthe wood again yonder, and when he saw us he slipped like a shadowinto the underbrush."
He stopped his horse, the Goodman came alongside, and the two mentalked together in a low tone. "Shall we go on as if we had not seenhim?" asked the Goodman. John Howland considered.
"If we turn back, the savage will be persuaded we have seen him andare afraid," he said. "We must e'en take our chance. It may be he hathno evil intent, though the road be lonely and travelers few. Whateverhis purpose, it is safer to go on than to stand still," and,tightening his rein, he boldly urged his horse across the open space.
Daniel's heart thumped so loudly against his ribs that it sounded tohis ears like a drum-beat as they crossed the clearing and entered theforest on the other side. They had gone but a short distance into thewoods when they were startled by the report of a gun, and poor Zebfell off his horse and lay like one dead in the road. For a momentthey thought he had been shot, and the two men were about to spring tohis rescue, when Zeb scram
bled to his feet and began to run like onepossessed.
"He is but scared to death. Haply he hath never heard a gun go offbefore," said John Howland, and, sticking his spurs into his horse, hegave chase.
Fleet of foot though he was, Zeb was no match for a horse and was soonovertaken.
"'T was but the Indian shooting the deer," said John Howland, laughingin spite of himself at poor Zeb's wild-eyed terror. "'T is a promiseof safety for the present at least. Nevertheless I like not the lookof it. The red-skin saw us; make no doubt of that; for when I firstbeheld him he was peering at us as though to fix our faces in hismind."
"I, too, marked how he stared," answered the Goodman, as he seized thecowering Zeb and swung him again to his seat on the pillion.
"I have it," he said, stopping short as he was about to mount. "Thesavage is without doubt of the Narragansett tribe. He caught a glimpseof the dark skin of this boy and mistook him for an Indian lad--one ofthe hated Pequots, who they thought were either all dead or soldout of the country. 'T is likely they have no knowledge of otherdark-skinned people than themselves."
"It may be so," said John Howland, doubtfully, "but 't is as likelythey mistook him for a devil. It once befell that some Indians,finding a negro astray in the forest, were minded to destroy him byconjuring, thinking him a demon. To be sure 't is but a year since theNarragansetts helped the English destroy the Pequot stronghold, andthe few Pequots who were neither killed nor sold they still hold insubjection. Whatever their idea, it bodes no good either to Zeb or tous, for their enmity never sleeps."
Zeb, meantime, sat clutching the pillion and looking from one graveface to the other as if he knew they were talking of him, and theGoodman patted his shoulder reassuringly as he mounted again. Theywere now nearing a small settlement, and the path widened so the twohorses could walk abreast.
"Thou 'lt have a special care in the stretch from well beyond MountDagon," said John Howland, "for thou knowest of the notorious Morton,who founded there the settlement called Merry Mount. It was theworshipful Endicott who wiped it out. Much trouble hath Morton toanswer for. He hath corrupted the savages, adding his vices to theirs.He hath also sold them guns and taught them to use them, for whichcause the Indians of this region are more to be feared than any alongthe coast. They are drunken, armed, and filled with hate for any whomthey esteem their enemies."
Daniel's hair fairly stood on end. He had felt prepared for pirates,but Indians lurking in dark forests were quite another matter! Hewished with all his heart that John Howland were going with them allthe way to Cambridge, but he well knew that could not be. His spiritsrose somewhat as they came in sight of the settlement, and a heartysupper at the house of Goodman Richards put such life and courage intohis heart that before it was over the Indians were no more to him thanpirates! Then, while his father and John Howland arranged with GoodmanRichards for the purchase of a horse to take them the rest of theirjourney, Goodwife Richards stowed Dan away in an attic bed, while Zeb,worn out with fear and fatigue, slept soundly on the hearth.
Courage is always highest in the morning, and Daniel felt bold as alion the next day, as he and his father bade John Howland and theRichards family good-bye and, with Zeb, again entered the foresttrail. The two boys walked on ahead, while the Goodman becameacquainted with the new horse, whose name, Goodman Richards had toldhim, was Penitence, but which they shortened to Penny. Later, when hehad assured himself that the animal was trustworthy, Goodman Pepperellput the two boys in the saddle and walked beside them, leading Pennyby the bridle. Taking turns in this way, they went on for somemiles without incident, until Dan almost forgot his fears, and evenZeb--watching his face and echoing its expression on his own--grewless and less timid.
They had passed the place which Howland had called Mount Dagon andwhich is now known as Wollaston, and had crossed the Neponset River bya horse bridge and were walking along quite cheerfully, the two boysat some distance ahead of Penny, when they saw a little way ahead ofthem an Indian standing motionless beside the trail. Dan immediatelydrew Zeb behind a bush, and when an instant later his father came up,the Indian disappeared as suddenly as he had come.
The Goodman looked troubled. "It is the same one we saw yesterday, Ifeel sure!" he said. "I like not his following us in this way, Daniel.I must trust thee even as though thou wert a man. Do thou get uponthe horse's back with Zeb behind thee. I will walk ahead with my gunready. Should the savage attack us, do thou speed thy horse like thewind to the next village, and bring back help. Remember it is thy partto obey. Three lives may hang on it."
With his heart pounding like a trip-hammer Dan mounted Penny. Zeb wasplaced on the pillion behind him with both arms clutching his waist,and the Goodman strode ahead, his keen eyes watching in everydirection for any sign of danger. There was not a sound in the forestexcept the soft thud of the horse's feet, the cawing of a crowcircling out of sight over the tree-tops, and the shrill cry of a bluejay.
"Confound thee, thou marplot, thou busy-body of the wood," mutteredthe Goodman to himself as he listened. "Wert thou but a human gossip,I 'd set thee in the stocks till thou hadst learned to hold thine eviltongue!"
But the blue jay only kept up his squawking, passing the news on tohis brethren until the forest rang with word of their approach.
It did not need the blue jays to tell of their progress, however, forthough no other sound had betrayed their advance, two Indians werecreeping stealthily through the underbrush, keeping pace with thetravelers, and when they had reached a favorable spot in a smallclearing, they suddenly sprang from their hiding-place. With ablood-curdling cry they leaped forward, and, seizing one of Zeb'slegs, tried to drag him from the horse's back.
The yells of the Indians were as nothing to those that Zeb then letloose! The air was fairly split by blood-curdling shrieks, and thehorse, terrified in turn, leaped forward, tearing Zeb from the graspof the Indian and almost unseating Dan by the jerk. But Dan dug hisknees into the horse's sides, flung his arms about her neck, and,holding on for dear life, tore away up the trail with Zeb clinginglike a limpet to his waist.
Never was a ride like that. Even John Gilpin's was a mild performancebeside it, for Zeb shrieked every minute of the way as they spedalong, with the horse's tail streaming out behind like the tail of acomet, and the daylight showing between the bouncing boys and Penny'sback at every wild leap. Even if Daniel had not been minded to obeyhis father's command, he could not have helped himself, for Penny tookmatters into her own four hoofs, and never paused in her wild careeruntil, covered with foam, she dashed madly into a little hamlet wherethe village of Neponset now stands.
Samuel Kittredge was just starting for the forest with his axe on hisshoulder, when his ears were smitten by the frantic shrieks of Zeb,and, thinking it must be a wildcat on the edge of the clearing,he started back to the house for his gun. Before he reached it,Penitence, with the two boys on her back, came thundering toward himat full gallop, and stopped at his side.
"What in tarnation is the matter with ye?" he exclaimed, gazing inamazement at the strange apparition. "I declare for it, that nigger isall but scared plumb white! What ails ye?"
"Indians!" gasped Dan, pointing toward the trail. "My father--quick!"No more words were needed. Samuel Kittredge dashed into his house,snatched his gun from the chimney, and, dashing out again, fired itinto the air. Poor Zeb! He slid off over the horse's tail on to theground and lay there in a heap, while a knot of men, responding to thesignal of Sam Kittredge's gun, gathered hurriedly before his house andstarted at once down the trail.
"You stay here," said Sam to Dan as he started away. "We 'll be backsoon with your father if the pesky red-skins have n't got him."
"Or if they have," added another man grimly, and off they went.
Goodwife Kittredge now took charge of Dan and Zeb, while her son, aboy of eleven, tied Penny to a tree beside their cabin. Zeb recoveredat once when she offered him a generous slice of brown-bread, butDan was too anxious about his father to eat. He stood beside Pen
ny,rubbing her neck and soothing her, with his eyes constantly on thetrail and his ears eagerly listening for the sound of shots. It seemedan age, but really was not more than half an hour, before he saw themen come out of the woods, and, oh joy! his father was with them!
Leaving Penny nibbling grass, he ran to meet them and threw his armsabout his father's neck, crying, "Oh, dear father, art thou hurt?"
"Nay; the Lord was merciful," answered the Goodman. "I fired but oneshot, and hit one of the red-skins, I am sure, for they both divedback into the woods at once. I hid myself in the thick underbrush onthe other side of the trail and waited, thinking perhaps I could creepalong beside it out of sight, but Zeb's roaring must have frighted theIndians. Doubtless they knew it would rouse the countryside. At anyrate I saw no more of them, and when these Good Samaritans came alongI knew I was safe."
"The lungs of that blackamoor are worth more to thee than many guns,"laughed Sam Kittredge. "'T is a pity thou couldst not bottle up a fewof his screeches to take with thee when thou goest abroad. They are ofa sort to make a wildcat sick with envy." The men laughed heartily,and, leaving the Goodman and Daniel with Sam, returned to theirinterrupted tasks.
Goodwife Kittredge insisted on their resting there for the nightbefore resuming their journey. "You must be proper tired," said she,with motherly concern, "and if you go on now 't is more than likelythose rascally knaves will follow you like your shadow. You 'll standa sight better chance of safety if you make an early start in themorning."
"Your horse needs rest, too," added Sam. "I 'll rub her down and giveher a measure of corn when she 's cooled off. Get to bed with thechickens, and start with the sun, and to-morrow night will find yousafe in your own home again."
To this plan the travelers gladly agreed. Early next morning, after ahearty breakfast in the Kittredges' cheerful kitchen they set forthonce more. The roosters in the farmyard were still crowing, and theair was sweet with the music of robins, orioles, and blackbirdswhen they again plunged into the forest trail. All day they ploddedsteadily along, delayed by bad roads, and it was not until late thatevening that they at last came in sight of the little house, whereNancy and her mother slept, little dreaming how near they were to ahappy awakening. When, at last they reached the cabin, the Goodman,fearing to alarm his wife, stopped on the door-stone and gently calledher name. He had called but once when a shutter was thrown open andthe Goodwife's head was thrust through it.
"Husband, son!" she cried joyfully. "Nancy!--awake child!--it is thyfather and brother!" and in another moment the door flew open,and Nancy and her mother flung their arms about the necks of thewanderers. When the horse had been cared for, they went into thecabin. Nancy raked the coals from the ashes, the fire blazed up, andthe Goodwife gave them each a drink of hot milk. Zeb blinked sleepilyat the reunited and happy family, as Dan and his father told theiradventures, and when at last they had gone to their beds in the lofthe sank down on a husk mattress which the Goodwife had spread for himon the floor, and in two minutes was sound asleep.
The Puritan Twins Page 4
