CHAPTER VII
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE DARK
Shif'less Sol rose to a sitting position, and carefully cracked hisjoints, one by one.
"I wuz a bit afeard, Paul," he said, "that I had jest petrified, layin'thar so long. A tired man likes to rest, but thar ain't no sense inturnin' hisself into a stone image."
Sol seemed so careless and easy that Paul drew an inference from hismanner.
"You are not expecting anything more from them just now, Sol?"
His nod toward the forest indicated the "them."
"No, not yet a while," replied Shif'less Sol. "I guess they'll lay byuntil night."
His face showed some apprehension as he spoke of night, but it was gonequickly. Shif'less Sol was not a man who took troubles to heart, else henever would have earned his name.
"We'll jest chaw a little more venison, Paul," he said. "I know you thinka drink o' water would go pow'ful well with it, an' so do I; but since itain't to be had, we'll jest do without it and say no more."
The remainder of the day passed undisturbed, but as the first wan shade oftwilight appeared the men began to look closely to their arms. Horns wereheld up to the light in order that the powder line might show, bulletswere counted, and flints examined. Paul knew what it all meant. TheShawnees would attack in the darkness, and there would be all theconfusion of a midnight battle, when one might not be able to tell friendfrom friend nor foe from foe. The sense of weirdness and awe overcame himagain. They were but the tiniest of atoms in that vast wilderness, whichwould be just the same to-morrow and the next day, no matter who won.
But Paul had in him the stuff of which heroes are made, and his strongwill brought his mind back to present needs. He, too, measured his powderand counted his bullets, while he strove also to forget the hot thirstthat tormented him.
The sun sank in the forest, the wan twilight deepened into shadow, and theshadow darkened into night. The trees where the Shawnees lay hidden weregone in the dusk, which hung so close that Paul could see but the nearestof his comrades. Only the murmur of night insects and the faint rustle ofleaves came to his ears. The feeling of awe returned, and his blood grewchill. Then it was a relief to him to know that he had a comrade in thissensation.
"Ef an owl would only hoot once or twice now," whispered Shif'less Sol, "Ithink I'd jump right out o' my huntin' shirt."
Paul laughed and felt better.
"Now, Paul," continued Shif'less Sol, very gravely this time, "lemme giveyou a piece o' mighty good advice. When the muss comes on, don't moveabout much. Lay close. Stick to me an' Henry, an' then thar ain't so muchchance to git mixed up with them that's lookin' fur you here."
"I'll remember what you say, Sol," replied Paul earnestly, as he girdedhis spirit for action. He knew that the attack would come very soon, asthe Indians would choose the darkest period before the moon rose. Nor washe wrong. The battle in the night began only a half hour later.
Paul first saw a pink point appear in the darkness, but he knew that itwas the flame from a rifle shot. It came from a place not far away, towhich some Shawnee had crawled; but the hunters paid no attention to it,nor to a second, nor to a third, as all the bullets flew wild. Paul,forgetting for the moment that those bullets were sent to kill, becameengrossed in the spectacle of the fireworks. He was always wondering wherethe next spurt of blue or pink flame would break through the darkness,and the popping of the shots formed a not unpleasant sound in the night.
"Comin' closer, comin' closer, Paul!" whispered Shif'less Sol. "One o'them bullets flyin' in the dark may hit somethin' putty soon."
Sol was a prophet. A hunter not far away uttered a low cry. He was struckin the shoulder, but after the single cry he was silent. Henry was thefirst to see one of the creeping brown bodies and fired, and after thatthe shots on either side increased fast. It was all confused and terribleto Paul. The darkness, instead of thinning to accustomed eyes, seemed tohim to grow heavier. The pin points of light from the rifle firemultiplied themselves into hundreds, and the front of the foe shiftedabout, as if they were trying to curve around the defenders.
Paul could not definitely say that he saw a single savage, but he firednow and then at the flashes of light, and also tried to obey Sol'sinjunction about sticking close to him and Henry. But he was not alwayssure that the figures near him were theirs, the darkness remaining sointense. He heard occasional low cries, the light impact of bullets, andthe shuffling sound of feet, but he was fast losing any ordered view ofthe battle. He knew now that the savages were very close, that the combatwas almost hand to hand, but he knew little else. The night enclosed allthe furious border conflict, and hid the loss or gain of either side fromall but the keenest eyes.
Paul could never tell how long this lasted, but he felt confident that thearea of conflict was shifting. Having first faced one side, they were nowfacing another, as the savages wheeled about them. He rose to his feet inorder to keep with his friends. He had been loading and firing morerapidly than he knew, and the barrel of his rifle was hot to his touch. Hestood a moment listening for the savages, and then turned to twoindistinct figures near him.
"Sol," he said, "can you and Henry see them?"
The two indistinct figures suddenly became distinct, and sprang upon him.He was seized in a powerful grasp and hurled down so violently that hebecame unconscious for a little while. Why he was not killed he did notknow that night, nor ever after--probably they wished to show a trophy.When he gathered his scattered senses he was being dragged away, and hishands were bound. He was too dazed to cry aloud for rescue, but heremembered afterwards that the battle behind him was waning at the time.
He was dragged deeper into the forest, and the shots on the hill becamefainter and fewer. His sight cleared, but the darkness was so great thathe could yet see little except the warrior who pulled him along. Paul madean effort and gained a better footing. It hurt his pride to be dragged,and now he walked on in the path that the warrior indicated.
They stopped after a while in an open space in the forest. The moon wasclearing a little, and Paul saw other warriors standing about. Nearly allwere wounded. Hideous and painted they were, with savage eyes filled withrage and disappointment, and the looks they gave Paul made him considerhimself as one dead.
As the moon cleared, more warriors drifted back into the glade. Some ofthese, too, bore wounds, and Paul's heart leaped up with fierce joy as hesaw that they had been defeated. The firing had ceased and the wildernesswas returning to silence, broken only by the low words of the savages andthe soft sound of their moccasins on the earth.
Paul was still in a sort of daze. The warriors were grouped about him,their sole visible trophy of the battle, and they regarded him withvengeful eyes. But he had passed through so much that he was not afraid.His only feeling was that of dull stupefaction, and mingled with it a sortof lingering pride that his comrades had been the victors, although hehimself was a prisoner. He did not know whether they would kill him ortake him with them, and at that moment his mind was so dulled that he feltlittle curiosity about the question.
A thin, sharp-faced warrior of middle years seemed to be the leader of theband, and he talked briefly to the others. They nodded toward Paul, andthen, with a warrior on each side of the prisoner, they started northward.Paul, his brain clearing, judged that they were taking him as a trophy, asa prize to show in their village before putting him to death.
They marched silently through the forest, curving far to the left of thebattlefield. The warriors were about a score in number, and Paul thoughtthey must have lost at least half as many in battle. Their hideous paintand their savage faces filled him with repulsion. Their wild life and themystery of wild nature did not appeal to him as they had once appealed toHenry in a similar position. To Paul, the chief thing about the wildernesswas the magnificent home it would make in the future for a great whiterace. Spared for the present, he expected to live. Henry had saved himonce, and he and his comrades would come again to the rescue.
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bsp; He stumbled at first in their rapid flight from weakness, and the warriornext to him struck him a blow as a reminder. Paul would have struck back,but his hands were tied, and he could only guard himself against anotherstumble. Pride sustained him.
They did not stop until nearly dawn, when they camped by the bank of acreek and ate. Paul's arms were unbound, and the hatchet-faced chieftossed him a piece of venison, which he ate greedily because he was veryhungry. Then, as the warriors seemed in no hurry to move, he sagged slowlyover on his side and went to sleep. Despite his terrible situation, he wasso thoroughly worn out that he could not hold up his head any longer.
When Paul awoke the sun was high, and he was lying where he had sunk down.The warriors were about him, some sitting on the grass or lying fulllength, but the party seemed more numerous than it was the night before.He looked again. It was certainly more numerous, and there, too, sittingnear him, was a white youth of nearly his own age. Paul rose up, inspiredwith a feeling of sympathy, and perhaps of comradeship, and then, to hisutter amazement, he saw that the youth was Braxton Wyatt, one of the boyswho had come over the mountains with the group that had settled Wareville.
Braxton Wyatt, a year or two older than Paul, had always been disliked atWareville. Of a sarcastic, sneering, unpleasant temperament, he habituallymade enemies, and did not seem to care. Paul disliked him heartily, but inthis moment of sudden meeting he felt only sympathy and fellowship. Theywere captives together, and all feeling of hostility was swept from hismind.
"Braxton!" he exclaimed. "Have they got you, too?"
Wyatt rose up, came to Paul, and took his hand in the friendliest manner.
"Yes, Paul," he said. "I was out hunting, thinking that there were nosavages south of the Ohio, and I was taken last night by a band whichjoined yours this morning while you slept."
"Why haven't they killed us?" asked Paul.
"I suppose they'd rather show us to the tribe first, or maybe they thinkthey can adopt us, as Henry Ware was once. They haven't treated me badly."
"That may be because you were taken without any loss to them," said Paul."We've had a big fight, and I'm the only one they got. Henry Ware, TomRoss, Shif'less Sol, and the others beat them off."
"That was grand fighting!" said Braxton. "Tell me about it."
Wyatt's fellowship and sympathy greatly cheered Paul, and he told indetail about the battle with the band, and all that preceded it. BraxtonWyatt listened with attention, but more than once expressed surprise.
"How many did you say were left back there on the hill?" he asked at last.
"We were ten when we began the fighting," replied Paul. "One that I knowof was killed, and it is likely that one or two more were. Then I'm gone.Not more than six or seven can be left, but they are the best men in allthese woods. Twice their number of Indians cannot whip them."
Paul said the last words proudly, and then he added:
"Henry and Ross and Shif'less Sol will come for me. They'll be sure to doit. And they'll rescue you, too."
Braxton Wyatt looked thoughtful.
"I think you're right," he said; "but it'll be a very risky thing forthem, especially if the Shawnees expect it. Be sure you don't let theIndians think you are dreaming of such a thing."
"Of course not," said Paul.
The sharp-faced chief now came up, and said something to Wyatt. Braxtonreplied in the Indian tongue.
"I didn't know that you understood any Shawnee," said Paul in surprise, asthe chief turned away.
"I've picked it up, a word here and a word there," replied Wyatt, "and Ifind it very useful now. The Chief--Red Eagle is his name--says that ifyou'll give 'em no trouble, he won't bind your hands again, for thepresent, anyway. I've followed that plan, and I've found it a heap easierfor myself."
Paul pondered a little. Braxton Wyatt's advice certainly seemed good, andhe did not wish to be bound again. It would be better to go along indocile fashion.
"All right, Braxton," he said, "I'll do as you suggest. We won't make themany trouble now, but after a while we'll escape."
"That's the best way," said Wyatt.
Red Eagle and another warrior, who seemed to be his lieutenant, weretalking earnestly. The chief presently beckoned to Wyatt, who went over tohim and replied to several questions. But Wyatt came back in a fewmoments, and took his seat again beside Paul.
A half hour later they resumed the march, and Paul knew by the sun thatthey were going northward. Hence he inferred that they would make nofurther attack upon the white hunters, and were bound for what theycalled home. Refreshed by his rest and sleep, and relieved by the removalof the bandages from his wrists, he walked beside Wyatt with a springystep, and his outlook upon life was fairly cheerful. It was wonderful whatthe comradeship of one of his own kind did for him! After all, he hadprobably been deceived about Braxton Wyatt. Merely because his ways werenot the ways of Henry and Paul was not proof that he was not the rightkind of fellow. Now he was sympathetic and helpful enough, when sympathyand help were needed.
The march northward was leisurely. The Shawnees seemed to have no furtherexpectation of meeting a foe, and they were not so vigilant. Paul andBraxton Wyatt were kept in the center of the group, but they werepermitted to talk as much as they pleased, and Paul was not annoyed by anyblow or kick.
"Have you any idea how far it is to their village, Braxton?" Paul asked.
"A long distance," replied Wyatt. "We shall not be there under two weeks,and as the party may turn aside for hunting or something else, it may bemuch longer."
"It will give Henry and Ross and the others more time to rescue us," saidPaul.
Braxton Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.
"I wouldn't put much hope in that if I were you, Paul," he said. "Thisband is very strong. Since the two parties joined it numbers fortywarriors, and our friends could do nothing. We must pretend to like them,to fall in with their ways, and to behave as if we liked the wild life aswell as that back in the settlements, and in time would like it better."
"I could never do that," said Paul. "All kinds of savages repel me."
Braxton Wyatt shrugged his shoulders again.
"One must do the best he can," he said briefly.
The leisurely march proceeded, and they camped the next afternoon in themidst of a magnificent forest of beech, oak, and hickory, building a greatfire, and lounging about it in apparently careless fashion. But Paul wasenough of a woodsman to know that some of the warriors were on watch, andhe and Braxton, as usual, were compelled to sit in the center of thegroup, where there was no shadow of a chance to escape.
Hunters whom they had sent out presently brought in the bodies of twodeer, and then they had a great feast. The venison was half cooked instrips and chunks over the coals, and the warriors ate it voraciously,chattering to each other, meanwhile, as Paul did not know that Indiansever talked.
"What are they saying, Braxton?" he asked.
"I can't catch it very well," replied Wyatt, "but I think they are talkingabout a stay near the Ohio--for hunting, I suppose. That ought to be agood thing for us, because they certainly will not decide about our fateuntil we get back to their village, and the more they are used to us theless likely they are to put us to death."
Paul watched the warriors eating, and they were more repellent to him thanever. Savages they were, and nothing could make them anything else. Hisways could never become their ways. But the fresh deer meat looked verygood, and the pleasant aroma filled his nostrils. Braxton Wyatt noticedhis face.
"Are you hungry, Paul?" he asked.
"No, not hungry; merely starving to death."
Wyatt laughed.
"I'm in the same condition," he said, "but I can soon change it."
He spoke to Red Eagle, and the thin-faced chief nodded. Then Braxtonpicked up two sharpened sticks that the savages had used, and also twolarge pieces of venison. One stick and one piece he handed to Paul.
"Now we also will cook and dine," he said.
Paul's heart warm
ed toward Braxton Wyatt. Certainly he had done him wrongin his thoughts when they lived at Wareville. But he was thinking thenext moment about the pleasant odor of the deer meat as he fried it overthe coals. Then he ate hungrily, and with a full stomach came peace forthe present, and confidence in the future. He slept heavily that night,stretched on the ground before the fire, near Braxton Wyatt, and he didnot awaken until late the next morning.
The Indians were very slow and leisurely about departing, and Paulrealized now that, vigilant and wonderful as they were in action, theywere slothful and careless when not on the war path, or busy with thechase. He saw, also, that the band was entirely too strong to be attackedby Henry and his friends.
They marched northward several days more, at the same dawdling pace, andthen they stopped a week at one place for the hunting. Half the warriorswould go into the forest, and the next day the other half would go, thefirst remaining. They brought in an abundance of game, and Paul neverbefore saw men eat as they ate. It seemed to him that they must be tryingto atone for a fast of at least six months, and those who were not huntingthat day would lie around the fire for hours like animals digesting theirfood. He and Braxton Wyatt were still treated well, and their handsremained unbound, although they were never allowed to leave the group ofwarriors.
Paul was glad enough of the rest and delay, but the life of the Shawneesdid not please him. He was too fastidious by nature to like theiralternate fits of laziness and energy, their gluttony and lethargyafterwards, but he took care not to show his repulsion. He acted uponWyatt's advice, and behaved in the friendliest manner that he could assumetoward his captors. Wyatt once spoke his approval. "The Chief, Red Eagle,thinks of adopting you, if you should fall into their ways," said Wyatt.
"He may adopt me, but I'll never adopt him," replied Paul sturdily.
But Wyatt only laughed and shrugged his shoulders, after his fashion.
A few days later they reached the Ohio. It was running bankful, and wherePaul saw it the stream was a mile wide, a magnificent river, cutting offthe unknown south from the unknown north, and bearing on its yellow bosomsilt from lands hundreds of miles away. The warriors took hidden canoesfrom the forest at the shore, and Paul thought they would cross at onceand continue their journey northward, but they did not do so. Instead,they dawdled about in the thick forest that clothed the southern bank, andate more venison and buffalo meat, although they did not kindle any fire.A day or two passed thus amid glorious sunshine, and Paul still could notunderstand why they waited.
Meanwhile he still clung tenaciously to his great hope. He might escape,he might be rescued, and then Henry and he would resume their task whichwould help so much to save Kentucky. No matter what happened, Paul wouldnever lose sight of this end.
The Forest Runners: A Story of the Great War Trail in Early Kentucky Page 7
