The same day, he moved his camp to where a long boulder field had tumbled into the river. Far within the field, he found a hollow beneath great stones. There he secreted his pack and all his weapons. For the escape, he would need only moccasins disguised as Piscataway for Late Star and a fire-carrying pot.
The dawn before the escape day would linger forever in the memory of Friend Seeker for this was the day Late Star would learn of his presence.
Well before light, he slipped across the stream to the place where Late Star knelt to fill his pots. In the mud he drew one of the secret signs known only to the boys who had gathered on the bluff a year before. Then he re-crossed the stream and crept deep into a thicket. His only danger lay in Late Star's reactions. Star had been the steadiest of them, but if he betrayed his excitement, others might see and guess the cause.
The Seeker's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the first women, including the comely maiden. Friend Seeker supposed she too was a captive as her garments were worn and ill fitting, and the squaws treated her with disdain.
The expected female vehemence announced Late Star's approach. As before, he trudged stolidly to the stream and knelt in his usual spot.
Only Friend Seeker saw a pot slip from Late Star's fingers, to be grasped before it floated away. Only he saw Star's spine stiffen and his body Jerk with tension. For an instant, Late Star seemed poised to explode straight up; then his muscles laxed and he began filling the jugs as usual.
The Seeker's relief was great, and he chose to risk a little more. With pursed lips he warbled the songbird's call they had included among their secrets. After a moment, Late Star's head turned slowly toward the Seeker's thicket. Gently, Friend Seeker twitched a single leaf and saw Star's mouth firm in response before he bent again to his pots. To Friend Seeker's eyes, Late Star returned to his lodge with firmer steps and straighter spine. He hoped no one else looked as closely.
The Seeker consumed the day resting and reviewing Late Star's response. How the Star's mind must be churning. Did he imagine a full war party even now preparing to sweep upon the village? Did he suppose his old companions accompanied men of their village who would strike at some unexpected moment? Probably Late Star considered those and many other possibilities, but Friend Seeker doubted that he suspected only one of his people lay hidden, waiting the right instant.
During the night, Friend Seeker raised the canoe and moved it to a hidden place along the river. He slid the canoe on and off the bank a few times leaving clear marks. Then he created many footprints by changing moccasins and walking barefoot. The signs would encourage trackers to believe there were many in the escape party.
Finally he gathered an armload of dried-out meadow grass and bound it into a convenient bundle. Carrying only the grass, a fire pot, and a pair of moccasins for Late Star, he crossed the village creek and settled himself to sleep close behind Star's lodge.
Deep within Piscataway lands the village slept heavily, unguarded and secure. Friend Seeker's rest was not as sound. Some Cat men were prone to step a short distance from their lodges for nightly relief and though he lay beyond that distance, the wind blew to him carrying a stink and many mosquitoes to harass him.
Dawn seemed forever in its coming, but the sun's good light eventually broke the gloom, and with damp palms and quickened pulse, the Seeker gathered himself.
It was important to his plan that the sun be hot and he was pleased that its fiery orb climbed angry red, promising another scorching day. The women appeared, and squalling within the lodge told that Late Star was being driven forth. Star appeared, heading for the creek, and Friend Seeker quickly moved close against the back wall of the lodge. Openings were high on the wall and he could crouch undetected close against it.
He jammed his grass bundle tightly against the tinder dry bark covering and poured hot coals from his fire bowl on them. Only a few breaths were needed to bring the bundle to flame and the Seeker fled swiftly back into the cover of the forest.
A single look showed flame already licking at the bark and thin smoke rising high. Without hesitation he dashed for the creek, aiming for a place well below Late Star's watering spot. He reached it as frantic calling broke out and heads turned toward the village where people were already scurrying to the burning lodge.
The squaws grabbed their water jugs and rushed en masse to attack the fire. Only Late Star hesitated at the creek, clearly suspecting the fire to be part of a greater plan.
At Friend Seeker's call, Late Star abandoned his pots and leaped into a wild run as though already hotly pursued. He reached the Seeker and for an instant they gripped hands. Star's eyes were confused, as though unsure of his rescuer's identity. Then the Seeker led him swiftly away downstream. Once beyond sight, they crossed the creek, and pausing only for Late Star to don moccasins, they ran through the forest, over a small ridge toward the river and Friend Seeker's canoe.
They wasted no breath in talk but even the easy pace tired Star's poor body, and judging Late Star's labored breathing and struggling limbs, Friend Seeker was forced to slow to a trot. He fretted at the slowness, but he had planned on it and could fairly expect no more. Late Star was doing his utmost and they did not have far to go.
Even so, they had slowed almost to a walk by the time they reached the canoe. Late Star scrambled aboard, his legs shaking and his lungs gasping painfully. Friend Seeker pushed off and directed the canoe south along the bank. He drove hard, each powerful stroke lifting the dugout and surging it forward. Late Star seized his own paddle and joined in but his efforts were weak and he made little difference.
Again, Friend Seeker had planned well and their course was not long. Before his arms wearied, the canoe bumped against the rockslide and the Seeker urged Star ashore. Bewildered, Late Star obeyed and held the canoe while Friend Seeker leaped onto the rocks.
At the Seeker's direction, they quickly filled the dugout with stones already laid handy and within moments the canoe again sank beneath the surface. Warning Late Star to step only where he stepped, Friend Seeker made quick passage up the rockslide. Carefully he stepped only on flatter stones where the sun would quickly dry their footprints leaving no trace of their passing.
Gasping and clawing the final lengths in a last outpouring of strength, Late Star barely made the cover of the rock hollow. Utterly spent, he collapsed against Friend Seeker's pack unable to even question their safety. Breathing evenly and barely sweated, Friend Seeker sorrowed at his friend's wretched condition. Good food and rest would make him well, but it was clear that their further escape would be in short marches at an easy pace.
The Seeker peered through a shadowed peephole beneath the boulders seeing no sign of pursuit. Already their moccasin prints were drying as the rising sun reheated rocks still warm with a previous day's heat. The Seeker imagined the chaos at the Piscataway village. By now the fire would be out even if the bark structure were consumed. Head counting would quickly disclose Star's absence and the abandoned pots would be discovered.
Hunters would fan out and quickly find their muddied tracks crossing the creek. Then they would be like wolves on the trail. They would reach the launching site swiftly. Seeing no canoes on the river they would know that Star and his rescuers followed the riverbank. Men would be sent both up and downstream, but most would head south, for their own creek lay just to the north and it would not seem wise for those escaping to have risked re-crossing the creek entrance.
How many escaping canoes would the Cats expect? He hoped a good number, for then they would seek many tracks and more likely not see a light trace. Could they locate the sunken canoe? Friend Seeker did not see how. The water was deep off the rocks and no hint of its presence remained. Late Star's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Squash? Is that really you?"
Unaccustomed to his old name, the Seeker was slow to answer. 'Yes, Star, I have come."
"You have changed. I could not be sure." There was awe in Star's voice.
"It has been
a hard year, Late Star. It is plain that you have suffered much, but soon we will be again on the Buffalo Creek and these bad times will become only memories."
"Even your words have changed, Oh Squash. While I have been whipped and starved, you have become a man. You move like a warrior, my friend, while I stagger about like a grandfather."
There was movement near the forest edge. "Wait, Star. Our enemy comes. We will talk when he is past."
Late Star slid close beside him where they could watch a number of Piscataway run swiftly from the trees and bound onto the rock slide.
"They are from my village." Star's whisper was soft in the Seeker's ear and he nodded understanding.
The men numbered only a few but they moved with the confidence of old hunters—their eyes searching ahead for sign and swiveling about to detect movement. They crossed the jumbled stones without hesitation and were gone into the further forest.
Late Star grunted satisfaction. "Yours is a daring plan, Squash. We hide beneath their very noses. You have thought well, for I could not have gone further.
"More will pass. They will be like stirred ants scurrying in all directions but they will not search here." Star laughed shortly, his mouth twisting in the wry humor the Seeker remembered so well.
"That is my plan, Late Star. Here you will rest and eat the pemmican of your mother until strength returns and the ants retreat to their village."
"You have thought of that as well? My mouth waters. Could we not begin?"
Grinning, Friend Seeker removed the rolled mixture of dried pounded meat, berries, and grains and placed it in Late Star's hands. Each squaw prepared pemmican in her own particular way and a youth raised on his mother's mixture found none other as satisfying. Late Star's hungry munching and sighs of approval proved the truth of the reasoning.
"Oh Squash, you call me Late Star. Is it your wish that I call you Panther as we did before the raid?"
"No, my brother, I have taken a new name. It is one that I have struggled long to earn. Later we will talk of it and for me the joy in telling will be great.
"Then too must you tell of your seasons among our enemy, for I long to know of them.
"But now you must eat, drink long from the water pot, and sleep so that your strength will grow.
"I will watch the passings of the Piscataway and warn if any come near." He turned to look fully at Late Star.
"It is good to find you, my brother."
Star's grin lit his drawn features, "It is good to be found, my brother."
— — —
Chapter 18
Lying within the cool comfort of the boulder field and whispering the natural sounds of their Delaware tongue was gratifying. Late Star ate and slept, but Friend Seeker believed he gained as much strength from hope and companionship as he did from food and rest.
The Star's story was a simple one. After his attempted escape at the cane field, the Piscataway had taken to the woods and followed no trails until a full day's march beyond Kittatinny Mountain. Star had marched with a strap of rawhide drawn tightly through his mouth and tied behind his head. The thong prevented him from calling and his captors had beaten him severely when he managed to chew through it. He had left his mark where possible, but by the time they had reached the Piscataway village he had believed rescue was hopeless.
The Piscataway leader, called Hawk Claw, had given him to an aunt who had lost her man to the river, and the bitter old woman had abused him unceasingly. Twice he had attempted escape but he had been easily recaptured.
The first time he had been beaten black and blue with bow staves, but the second attempt had been treated more seriously. By then he could understand some of the Piscataway speech and Hawk Claw had taken him by the hair and spoken into his face. His words were clear and Late Star believed them. If he again attempted escape, Hawk Claw would cut the tendon behind one ankle and he would be forever crippled and reduced to hobbling about with a dangling foot. The threat terrified Late Star and he resigned himself to await rescue.
His people did not come and the leaves fell and winter cold matched the chill in his heart. He believed himself abandoned and beyond help. Fed only what others did not want and regularly whipped by the old squaw, Star found his courage failing. Only the presence of another captive sustained him. Their few words exchanged gave them each hope and nourished their will to continue.
The maiden was called Rain. She had been taken by another tribe and traded to the village for certain fishing rights that he did not understand. The girl's lot was better than his own for she belonged to the village and no individual could overly abuse her. Soon she would be taken as someone's squaw, Star believed. Rain was comely and it was only a matter of a hunter or warrior paying the village price.
When he had seen their secret mark drawn in the mud Star's heart had nearly stopped. His eyes had blurred and strength left his limbs. Then he had almost leaped up and rushed into the forest. Perhaps he should thank Hawk Claw's threat for preventing that.
While he waited for further signs or rescue itself, he had worried that Hawk Claw might return to the village. The Claw was a powerful warrior and three others were with him. Their strength would greatly alter chances of successful escape and Star's ankles ached at the thought of failure.
That only Squash had come for him almost paralyzed his mind. If he had not already committed himself, he might have refused to try as their chances against an aroused village seemed small. Yet the Claw's threat then drove him on. He could expect no mercy from the Piscataway and fear gave him strength to reach the canoe and climb the rock slide.
Star stretched luxuriously and drank greedily from Friend Seeker's water bowl. His story had been short in telling, but his wasted body spoke clearer than any words. Late Star had suffered greatly and many moons would be needed to return his strength.
Yet Star's spirit had not broken. He might speak of fear and weakness but when the chance came he seized it with all-consuming effort. Who could do more?
The Seeker's story took far longer and he occupied the day with just the bare bones of it. Detailing a year of warrior training could not be told in one light and Friend Seeker drew out the telling to fill the days they must remain in hiding. Star would need time to grow stronger and the stirred village would need equal opportunity to again settle into routines and believe their former captive to be beyond reach.
Late Star had difficulty in calling Friend Seeker by his new name. The words seemed strange and that he was so closely a part of the name seemed also to bind his tongue, but with use, it became easier and Star had other marvels to consider.
Friend Seeker's Piscataway astonished and amused Late Star. He declared his friend's accent closer to a crow's cawing than Piscataway speech, but that he spoke it at all impressed Late Star immensely. Short accounts of Friend Seeker's time with Oak Neck and Snake's Tongue captured Star's imagination and brought soft hoots of amazement. The Seeker interspersed his stories with information about Star's family and others of the fishing village.
The death of Eagle a year past seemed new to Late Star for he had hoped his friend had somehow survived. That the hulking Large Fish was a lodge head with a growing family disturbed him and made him aware of a year forever lost.
On the second day Friend Seeker included Late Star in exercises practiced by warriors during winter confinement. The stretching movements were copied from panthers and involved tensing muscles flexed and extended until sweat started and lungs labored. While poor substitutes for running and lifting, the movements helped sustain strength, and in one as weak as Late Star, they would rapidly improve both endurance and power.
Friend Seeker watched the depletion of their pemmican with some alarm. Star's appetite was voracious, and although his body needed the rich sustenance, his hunger had to be balanced against the length of their journey. Once beyond the Piscataway, they could hunt, fish, and gather. Growing things were many during the hot season and they would not suffer, but what they now had must l
ast until that time.
During the third day, most stories had been told and restlessness began to plague Late Star. Trained in patience, Friend Seeker experienced no pressure to be on the move and compared to the almost endless hours of hiding and listening to squaws prattling, being within the rocks was relaxing. Late Star had no such training and as his youthful vigor returned he became increasingly impatient.
They had touched only lightly on Friend Seeker's plans to continue their escape and each time the subject appeared, Late Star shied from it, as though he feared to face the problems. Friend Seeker assumed the evasions were due to Star's physical weakness and that as he rested his confidence would increase. Observing his companion's growing unrest, the Seeker believed the time was right to broach his plans.
"By now the searchers have given up, oh Star, and the village will again be as it was.
"We will rest another day and begin our return to our people during the night. We will travel north, edging toward the west. In this way we will avoid villages along the water called Chesapeake and we will fly as true as an arrow until Kittatinny rises before us."
Late Star sat with bowed head, wringing his hands in obvious distress. Unsure, Friend Seeker asked, "Is it too soon, Late Star? Do you not feel ready?"
Half angrily Star tossed his head, rejecting the thought. "It is not that, my brother. Your plan is good and we should follow it." He shifted nervously. "But I have not told you all and have been fearful to explain the rest."
Confused, Friend Seeker questioned, "What could you not have told me, Star? Of what do you speak? The way is clear. Why do you not leap at it?"
Late Star groaned in misery. "My brother, I cannot go."
"Cannot go?" Friend Seeker could not believe. What other choice was there? He looked narrowly at Star, wondering if his mind had cracked.
Star was about to speak when the answer struck the Seeker with a sun's clarity. With a snort of annoyed amusement, he sank onto the rock from which anxiety had driven him.
Friend Seeker (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series) Page 15
