Presently the great chief laid aside his pipe, a long-stemmed affair with a curiously carved clay bowl, and all others immediately followed his example. In another minute the speech-making began.
Capt. Pipe’s was the first address, a brief preliminary statement. He made a most imposing appearance as he stood very erect, his arms folded, his head-dress of feathers reaching half way to the ground behind him, the fringes of his shirt-like coat rustled by the movements of his body, as he talked. Others followed, but the boys understood very little of what was said. As Big Buffalo arose, however, there was a scowl on his face which was far from pleasant. His gestures indicated hostility and the Paleface lads knew that at heart he hated them. They wished Fishing Bird were present to say a friendly word.
Capt. Pipe, himself, spoke a second time a little later, however, and very earnestly Ree and John studied his grave and stern, but not unkind, face, to learn how he felt toward them. They could scarcely believe that he was the savage, who, only a few years before, had been a leading spirit in the torture of Colonel Crawford.
Occasionally the chief used a few English words and the boys gathered from the general trend of his remarks that they would be welcome if they came only as traders; but that settlers were not welcome, and the Indians wished no one to come among them who would clear land or do anything which might lead to the establishing of a settlement of the whites in their country. A reasonable number of hunters and traders might come and go unmolested but there must be no building of permanent cabins; there must be no different life than that led by the children of the forest—the Indians themselves.
A long silence followed this address, and then Ree arose to speak. His heart beat fast, and John trembled inwardly as his friend began. But nervous as he was, there was no weakness in Ree’s tones. He spoke slowly and distinctly, using every sign which could be expressed by look or gesture to make his meaning clear; and looking the Indians squarely in the eyes they did not fail to understand as the boy thus told them in his own way, that he and his friends hoped to live at peace with them; that there was but a very small party of them, himself and one other, besides a woodsman who was temporarily with them, and that they had journeyed to that beautiful country of the Delawares to hunt and trade and make themselves a home.
They had not been taught to live as the Indians lived, he said, and they could not have a home without some cleared land about it for the crops which they would need. For this land, Ree went on, they were willing to pay a fair price, and they were desirous of selecting a location that they might get their cabin built. The spot they had chosen was where the course of the river had changed at some time, years before, leaving a little clearing.
As Ree finished speaking he stepped up and laid his presents—two small mirrors and a handsome hunting knife—before Capt. Pipe. John followed his example in this, and there were grunts of approval from all the Indians except Big Buffalo, as the boys sat down.
More speech-making followed, however, taking so much time that John whispered: “If they don’t stop soon, or ask us to stay all night, we will have to climb a tree, somewhere.”
At last a decision was reached that the boys were to have a piece of land including the clearing to which Ree had referred, and as much of the river valley and adjacent hillsides as they reasonably needed, in exchange for articles to be selected from their stock of goods.
By close attention Ree had been able to understand the matter fairly well, but as the talk of the Indians had seemed so monotonous, John had let his thoughts run to other subjects. He had been wondering what had become of the scalp they had seen at Big Buffalo’s belt the day before, and whether Tom Fish really knew the person whose death it signified; and if so, who that person might be. He did not know then, all that he came to know afterward.
With hand-shaking all around the council was concluded, and Capt. Pipe conducted the boys to the feast which the squaws had been preparing. There was broiled venison (without salt) and a sort of soup containing broken corn and beans cooked together in a large kettle.
Nearly all of the Indians who had been in the council partook of these dainties and many others did likewise. Ree and John ate heartily though they did not exactly relish the lack of cleanliness displayed by the savages in their manner of cooking, and in their eating.
The squaws and Indian boys and girls, and many a young brave for that matter, watched the young Palefaces curiously, and their eyes followed the lads closely as Capt. Pipe led them away to his own bark cabin. It was then that John first saw Gentle Maiden, Capt. Pipe’s daughter. She was truly handsome for one of her race, but she stepped behind a screen of skins and was gone before Ree had even noticed her.
The chief of the Delawares told the boys to make themselves comfortable, and a squaw, who seemed to be his wife, spread skins for them to sit upon or lie upon, as they chose. Capt. Pipe then gave his guests to understand that they might come and go as they chose and remain with him as long as they wished. He then withdrew and presently the boys did go for a stroll about the queer town of the Indians. Fortunately they met Fishing Bird and he walked all about with them then, leading the way to a fire before which a game like dice was being played.
The seeds of wild plums, colored black on one side and scraped white on the other, were shaken up in a box made of bark and thrown out upon a smooth spot on the ground. The Indians endeavored to throw as many as possible of the seeds with the white sides up, and he who did the best at this, won the game. It seemed very dull amusement to John, but Ree watched the game with much interest, until Fishing Bird beckoned him away. And then something took place which made Ree quite certain that this was the Indian whom he might have killed as they struggled alone in the forest solitude only the second night previous.
It was a wrestling match which Fishing Bird proposed, and he called to a strapping young savage and challenged him to undertake to put Ree down. The brave smiled and stepped up willingly. Ree would have preferred that such a contest had not been suggested, but as the young Indian looked at him in a way which seemed to say, “It will not take me long to put you on your back,” he decided to throw the proud young redskin if he could.
With many manifestations of delight the Indians gathered around, as they quickly learned what was taking place; for there was nothing in which the forest rovers had a greater delight than trials of strength and endurance.
Ree stipulated but one thing, as he threw off his coat and made ready, this was that the wrestling should be “catch-as-catch-can.”
Ready assent was given, a space was cleared and an Indian clapped his hands as a signal for the contest to begin. Like a panther the young brave sprang toward his sturdy white opponent to catch him “Indian hold.” But he reckoned without knowledge of his man. Ree had not forgotten the teachings of Peter Piper, and so cleverly did he dodge, and so quickly seize the Indian about the legs, that in a twinkling the proud buck was stretched upon the earth.
There were expressions of wonderment from the Indians, but in a second the vanquished redskin was on his feet, anxious for another trial.
John, with utter disregard of good manners, was laughing heartily over his friend’s success, and as Ree declined to wrestle any more, the Indian turned to him, and somewhat fiercely demanded that he should try conclusions with him.
John glanced at Ree and the latter nodded for him to go ahead. In another minute then, a match, the closeness and desperation of which delighted the savages beyond measure, was in progress.
Tightly clasping each other’s arms, the contestants strained every muscle and struggled back and forth and round and round—now slowly, now with movements most rapid, neither gaining an advantage. Longer and longer the contest continued in this way, and Ree saw that John was becoming worn out. He must act quickly or succumb to the Indian’s greater weight and power of endurance.
“You can throw him if you only say to yourself that you must and that you will, and then do it,” Ree whispered, as John was pushed near hi
m, and his advice was taken.
With a show of strength which surprised them all, John forced his opponent backward, and tried again to trip the fellow, but could not. Then he allowed the savage to try to trip him, and seizing the opportunity, gave the redskin so sudden and violent a pull that he was taken off his feet and fell heavily, dragging John down with him. Both the Indian’s shoulders touched the ground, however, and with savage glee the redskins acknowledged John to be the victor. To do them justice, they seemed not at all put out that their man was defeated. Only one who was present scowled. He was Big Buffalo, and with an ugly look he strode away from the campfire’s light.
Ree could not help but notice the savage fellow’s hostile manner. “We better watch out for him,” he said to John as they discussed the incident sometime later, when they had sought rest for the night on the skins in Capt. Pipe’s house.
“It makes me feel—well, not exactly comfortable, Ree,” John answered. “Here we are a hundred miles from civilization sleeping in the hut of one of the bloodiest Indians of the Northwest Territory; Indians all around us, and Goodness knows what else in the woods, on every side!”
“Why, John,” said Ree, “I believe we are safer to-night than at any time since we left Fort Pitt. Capt. Pipe may be a bad Indian, but he would fight for us, if need be, while we are his guests. He might scalp us to-morrow after we have said good-bye, but when we are in his house as friends, we will be protected.”
* * *
CHAPTER XI.
Again a Hidden Enemy.
The boys were early astir the following morning. As soon as they were up Capt. Pipe’s wife placed a dish of boiled corn, like hominy, before them, and this was their breakfast. A little later, telling Capt. Pipe of the great amount of work they had to do, the lads bade him good-bye, the chief giving them each a pouch of parched corn, and sending an Indian to take them in a canoe across the lake.
It was two hours past noon when Tom Fish suddenly started up from the broiled turkey with which he was regaling himself, as he heard some one approach, and discovered Ree and John returning. He greeted them gladly, but not in his usual hilarious fashion, and they could not but notice how unlike himself he was as he carved for them some juicy slices from the fine young gobbler he had cooked. Yet he listened with interest to Ree’s account of their trip, John often breaking in with such jolly comment as: “You should have heard those Indians talk! Why they beat a quilting bee for gabbling, except that they didn’t all talk at once.”
“But they are real orators,” added Ree quite soberly. “I’ve heard that an Indian has three ambitions—to be a mighty hunter, a great warrior and a grand orator; and there are some splendid speakers among the Delawares.”
“The’s some red-handed, bloody murderers among ’em, too, I kin tell ye,” Tom Fish growled. “I got no rest whilst ye was gone, a thinkin’ of it.”
“Has anything happened, Tom?” asked Ree, struck by his friends grave manner.
“Cheer up, Thomas, cheer up!” cried John. “You’ve been about as cheerful company as a box of indigo ever since you saw that—that hideous thing at Big Buffalo’s belt.”
“Well, it’s a wonder the’ didn’t nothing happen, an’ somethin’s goin’ to happen, I know,” the hunter replied to Ree’s question, ignoring John’s bantering, as he often did. “That Buffalo varmint means harm. I’ve been thinkin’ it all over an’ the’ ain’t no two ways about it. If I ain’t a sight mistaken, I seen him peekin’ down from the hill back there, not a half hour ago—either him or some dirty Mingo; I didn’t exactly see him, but I heard some one, an’ I’d a’ peppered away at him if you kittens hadn’ ’a been gone an’ me not knowin’ just where ye might be. So I’ve been thinkin’ it all over, an’ mighty sorry I am I ever piloted ye into this hostyle kentry. The’s only one thing to do, an’ that’s to take what stuff ye kin an’ get back to Pittsburg fast as yer legs kin take ye. Now as fer me, I kin take care of myself, but I’ll see ye part way anyhow, an’ I’d go clear back with ye if I didn’t have somethin’ very important to ’tend to.”
Ree could not help but smile at Tom’s drooping spirits, though the discouraging talk made it necessary for him to appear really more cheerful than he felt, as he realized that Big Buffalo really seemed anxious to cause trouble. But he shook his head at John, as he saw the latter about to scold Tom for bringing them into this part of the wilderness only to advise them to leave it; for his chum’s face showed that he was not pleased with Tom’s manner.
“There is just one thing to be done,” Ree exclaimed.
“An’ that’s get right back—” Tom Fish was saying.
But the youthful leader of the party interrupted: “Go back? No, sir! The one thing to do is to go forward, and take our goods with us without further loss of time. We will get a good, stout cabin up and then we’ll be better prepared for trouble if it comes. And that prowler, you heard, Tom, must have been the same cowardly wretch who shot old Jerry. We must watch for him. We cannot be too careful, but if he is the same fellow who fired on us and nearly killed Black Eagle’s son, ’way back on the Pennsylvania border, I think I can guess who it is, and I can tell you, he is a coward. But let’s get to work.”
“I like yer spunk, lad, an’ I like you, but what I want to say is, that Tom Trout as some calls Fish, will stick by ye till ye get some sort of a shack throwed up, anyhow.”
“Bully for you, Tom! And bully for you, too, Ree,” exclaimed John springing up to begin whatever task awaited him. “I was beginning to get away down in the mouth, the way Tom was talking a minute ago.”
“We must take the goods out of the cart and pack them in convenient shape for carrying,” Ree directed, without further ado. “By dragging a few things forward a hundred rods or so, then coming back for more and so on, we should reach the river in a couple of days.”
And so all fell to work with a will. The cart did not contain a heavy load, as it would have been impossible for old Jerry to have hauled it through the woods, up hills, across streams and boggy places. But when it came to carrying forward everything except the cart, which must be abandoned, without the aid of a horse, the task was found to be a most laborious one.
The unpacking and rearranging consumed so much time that darkness had come on before the last bundle of the merchandise and provisions had been carried forward to the first stopping place, a little way beyond the top of the bluff, in the valley below which the camp had been.
While John and Tom erected a shelter for the night, for the wind was cold and raw, Ree returned to the valley to procure coals with which to start a fire at the new camp. He found it necessary to enliven the dying embers with a few fresh sticks of wood, and as he stooped over to blow greater life into the struggling blaze which started up, he heard a rustling in the leaves on the hill behind him, in the direction opposite that in which his friends were. Like a flash he sprang away from the fire into the half-darkness which filled the valley. He was in the nick of time. A rifle cracked and a bullet threw up the ashes and sent the sparks flying where his head had been just a second before.
With the speed of the wind Ree ran in the direction from which the shot had come, his own rifle cocked and ready. He thought he heard some one making off in the darkness as he reached the top of the hill, but whether white man or Indian—Delaware or Mingo, he could not tell. He called out a command to halt, but no attention was given his order for the uncertain sound of fleeing footsteps continued. He chanced a shot in the direction of the unknown enemy, although he realized it would probably do no good.
While he reloaded his rifle Ree stepped behind a tree, and a few seconds later John came running up. As it was too dark to continue the chase, both boys returned to camp, stopping in the ravine to secure a fire brand to start a blaze to prepare their supper. In vain did John ask questions as to whom Ree believed the would-be murderer was; they could not be answered, for, as Ree said, he had not seen the person.
Tom Fish, disconsolate as he well could be,
sat on a big bundle of merchandise as the boys rejoined him.
“It’s sure death to stay here, lads,” were the first words he said, and his tone was not calculated to make the young travelers comfortable; but resolving to look on the brighter side, Ree cheerily answered:
“A man is in some danger wherever he is. We will all feel better when we smell some venison on the hot coals. And just wait till we get our cabin built! We are going to get some beans and late squashes from the Indians, and bake some corn bread, and have a regular old-fashioned Connecticut supper!”
“Did ye hit him, d’ye think, Ree?” asked Tom, brightening up.
“No, but he scared him into eleven kinds of fits,” John answered for his friend, catching the spirit of the latter’s courage and enthusiasm.
“It ain’t that I am caring for myself. Tom Fish, or Tom Trout didn’t ever lose a wink o’ sleep bein’ afraid he couldn’t look out for number one,” the woodsman went on. “But after—after that—thing we saw the other day—but I guess we’ve got our appetites left,” he said, suddenly changing the subject.
It was not long until the supper was ready and eaten and all did feel much the better for it, as Ree had predicted. The ordinary noises of the forest, the howling of wolves, in pursuit of some poor deer, perhaps, the far-away shriek of a panther balked of its prey, it may have been, gave them little concern. Though the darkness was intense and enemies might draw very near without being observed, the boys believed they had made peace with the Indians and the presence of four-footed enemies did not worry them.
Far Past the Frontier Page 9
