CHAPTER V
A GRAND PALAVER
"OH! Dick, my boy, we could not let you go from us in that way!"
Of course Dick had expected that his mother would say something likethis; but he looked more to his father for the consent that wouldmean so much. The very thought was staggering to those loving hearts;but in those days boys of fifteen and sixteen were so accustomed tothinking and doing for themselves that they were fully trusted by theirelders. And, besides, mothers had been brought up in the hard schoolof experience, thus learning early in life to look upon danger as anever-present thing.
If his father could be brought to see the desperate undertaking in theright light, Dick knew that the victory was as good as won; for theformer would be able to convince the good wife and mother that it was,after all, a reasonable conclusion, as well as the sole hope of savingtheir imperiled homes.
Bob Armstrong shook his head, even while his eyes grew dim as theyrested on Dick's eager face.
"God knows, your mother and I understand and appreciate the motive thatprompts you to say that, my boy," he said; "but we could not acceptthe sacrifice that it would mean. If there is no other way to save ourfarms, then they must go, and we will have to take up some new land,and start in afresh."
"But, father, why should you feel that way?" the lad went on to say."Can you not trust me in the woods? Have I ever failed to take everyprecaution, and up to now has anything serious ever happened to me?"
"No, it is not that, son," replied Bob; "a man could not wish to havea better boy than you have always been, and I wager you know morewoodcraft right now than either your Uncle Sandy or myself had in ourheads at your age. But it would not be right for us to stay comfortablyat home here, while our sons were meeting with all manner of perils offin that unknown country."
Dick smiled on hearing that. He believed that, if there was no strongerargument against the venture, his case was already as good as won.And, having thought it all out, he now proceeded to knock away theprops from under the structure founded by his father.
"Please look back, father, to your own boyhood days," he said, soberly."How many times have you sat there, and told us of how you and UncleSandy started out by yourselves on the trail of that young Iroquoischief who carried Aunt Kate away. Yes, you followed him clear to theGreat Lakes, to the country that was teeming with enemies. And, inspite of every peril, you and my uncle, with only the help of that oldtrapper Pat O'Mara, since gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds, and thefriendly Indian, Blue Jacket, did rescue Aunt Kate, and even saved thelife of Pontiac, who afterwards gave you the magic wampum belt thathas kept us from harm all these years. Father, what I am saying is alltrue, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes, every word of it, my son; but, then, the conditions weredifferent at that time," replied the other, hastily. "Our sister hadbeen carried off, my father was far away on the road to Virginia onimportant business, and there was no one else to go in search of Kate,so brother Sandy and myself _had_ to start out."
"Ah! yes, but you went willingly, eagerly, I know, father, just as wefeel like doing now," the boy went on.
"But the life and happiness of our only sister was at stake, Dick," thefather said, and yet in a half hesitating way, as though the argumentof the boy was already beginning to have its effect.
"Well, the future happiness of _three_ families is at stake now,father. And if in those days you and Uncle Sandy could face the perilsof the wilderness, and win out, why should not Roger and I do the samenow? All we would have to do would be to follow up the course of theriver, week after week, until we caught the expedition; and then keepon with them until Jasper Williams joined them, as he expects to do bythe time they reach the Mandan country. After that, having secured hissignature to the paper, we could bring it back to you. Why, what couldbe easier than that? And think of all it means to us, father!"
"Yes, yes, I understand, Dick, and Heaven knows I feel like giving myconsent. But it is no light matter, to be settled off-hand in a minute.I have your mother's feelings to consider. She would be loath to seeyou leave us, and plunge into that unknown country that lies towardthe setting sun."
"But, father, I have heard you say many times that you often had alonging yourself to go there, and if you were not the head of a familythe temptation might have been more than you could stand. Yes, andUncle Sandy echoed your words, and looked forlorn for a whole day, asthough he had to light with the desire to once more become a pioneer,and explore new countries."
Bob Armstrong smiled, and glanced toward his wife, who shook her head,not trusting herself to speech. But Dick felt encouraged, and believedhe had made great progress toward gaining the consent of both parents.
There remained one trump card to play--Grandfather Armstrong, whoalways sympathized with his grandsons in their ambitions, and who wouldbe apt to look back to those days when he, as a father, trusted hisown sons in every undertaking that could happen in the lives of youngpioneers along the Ohio and the Mississippi.
"By now, Uncle Sandy and Roger must be over at Grandfather Armstrong'scabin; and I promised that we would meet them there for a talk. Youwill not object to hearing what he has to say, father, I hope?" Dickwent on.
"I can see what the result will be if Grandfather takes a hand in it,"remarked Bob, with a shrug of his shoulders; "but then, it seems to bea case of 'old men for council; young men for war,' and we surely oughtto listen to what he has to say of the project, after he has heard bothsides."
The younger boy, Sam, who had been listening to all this amazing talkwith eagerness, now broke in with:
"But I can shoot a rifle as well as Dick, and know lots about trailing,and all those things Pat O'Mara used to teach me before he died; whymust I stay at home if Dick goes, father?"
"That would never do!" declared Dick, immediately. "Mother could notstand the absence of both her boys at the same time. Who would do thehunting and fishing then, while father worked the farm? Where wouldthe meat come from, Sam? No; if I go, you must take my place, and showwhat you can do. Besides, while you are strong for your years, a boyof twelve could hardly expect to keep up with those who are so mucholder. Oh! no, it would not do at all."
Sam was inclined to protest, but he saw his mother's grieved face; andsomething there seemed to give his heart a wrench. Perhaps it was thethought of being separated from her by hundreds of miles of wilderness,never, perhaps, to see her again in this life; for, after all, Sam wasonly a very young boy, and he had not been tried so severely as hisfather and uncle in their early days.
"Oh, well, I suppose I'll have to stay home, and take your place, Dick;but some fine day I mean to see that Golden West for myself, rememberthat," he said, and, somehow, his taking it for granted that theparents' consent was sure to be given to his brother's daring projectdid more to hasten the decision than anything that had as yet occurred.
"Come," remarked Bob, "let us all go to Grandfather Armstrong's, andtalk it over. I want to see what Sandy thinks, before I make up mymind;" but Dick knew from his father's manner that already he had beenpartly won over.
So they all trooped out, and were soon entering the central cabin.
David Armstrong was now getting quite old. Thirty years had passedsince he came down the Ohio on a flatboat, seeking a new home in thewilderness; and his hair was as white as the snows that came with eachsucceeding winter. He was not able to do much manual labor himself,but hired help to look after his extensive holdings, that already hadincreased ten times in value, and would be worth a fortune later on, ifthey could only manage to retain possession of them.
Evidently the old man and his wife had been told of the boldproposition which Dick and Roger had made, for his dimmed eyes restedfondly on his other grandson as Dick entered the big cabin.
David loved these boys even as he had his own sons. He had watchedtheir growth into young manhood, and in every way fostered their goodtraits. And, knowing what they were capable of doing, if any one wasable to decide whether they could be entrusted with such
a dangerousmission it should be Grandfather Armstrong.
Sandy was almost as sturdy a man as his brother Bob, and his wife wasa fine helpmeet for a pioneer. There was none her equal in all thatregion when it came to putting up sweets for the long winter season andin carrying out the numerous responsibilities that a housewife in thosetimes had to take upon her shoulders.
But just now Phoebe Armstrong seemed dumb with the dread that hadseized her, after hearing what an undertaking her only boy proposedembarking upon.
Aunt Kate, too, was there, a buxom young woman, who had helped tomother all the children of her two brothers as they came along; and nowtook upon herself many of the duties that were proving too arduous forher mother, not so strong as in the years long gone by. And the lastmember of the group was little Mary, Sandy's daughter, a winsome childof seven, with flaxen hair, and eyes rivaling the blue skies and who,as already mentioned, had been named after Grandmother Armstrong.
And then the grand "powwow," as Roger called it, began, the boysstating their case, and begging hard to be allowed to carry out theplan they had set their hearts on. Both fathers also entered into thediscussion, but the mothers only listened, rather white of face, butevidently willing that such an important matter should be settled bythe heads of the houses.
All the while Grandfather Armstrong sat there, smoking his long pipe,and listening to what was said. And after all had been argued, fathersand boys seemed to turn toward the old man for a decision.
Removing his pipe, David Armstrong looked around at the row of eager aswell as anxious faces, and, speaking slowly, delivered himself of hisdecision.
"I think," he said, very solemnly, "that these brave boys should beallowed to show what they are made of, and try to save for theirparents the homes we have planted here in this beautiful spot. And so,let them make the venture!"
The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri; or, In the Country of the Sioux Page 8
