The Border Watch: A Story of the Great Chief's Last Stand

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE ROAD TO WAREVILLE

  Henry made no mistake when he predicted that they would have the rightof way to the Falls. Days passed and the broad river bore thempeacefully onward, the wind blowing into ripples its yellow surfacewhich the sunshine turned into deep gold. The woods still formed a solidbank of dark green on either shore, and they knew that warriors might belurking in them, but they kept to the middle of the current, and theOhio was so wide that they were fairly safe from sharpshooters. Inaddition to the caution, habitual to borderers, they usually kept prettywell sheltered behind the stout sides of their boat.

  "Tain't no use takin' foolish risks," said Shif'less Sol wisely. "Abullet that you ain't lookin' fur will hurt jest ez bad ez one thatyou're expectin', an' the surprise gives a lot o' pain, too."

  Hence they always anchored at night, far out in the water, put out alllights, and never failed to keep watch. Several times they detectedsigns of their wary enemy. Once they saw flames twinkling on thenorthern shore, and twice they heard signal cries in the southern woods.But the warriors did not make any nearer demonstration, and they wenton, content to leave alone when they were left alone.

  All were eager to see the new settlement at the Falls, of which reportshad come to them through the woods, and they were particularly anxiousto find it a tower of strength against the fresh Indian invasion. Theirnews concerning it was not yet definite, but they heard that the firstblockhouse was built on an island. Hence every heart beat a littlefaster when they saw the low outline of a wooden island rising from thebosom of the Ohio.

  "According to all we've heard," said Henry, "that should be the place."

  "It shorely is," said Shif'less Sol, "an' besides I see smoke risin'among them trees."

  "Yes, and I see smoke rising on the southern shore also," said Henry.

  "Which may mean that they've made a second settlement, one on themainland," said Paul.

  As they drew nearer Henry sent a long quavering cry, the halloo of thewoodsman, across the waters, and an answering cry came from the edge ofthe island. Then a boat containing two white men, clad in deerskin, putout and approached the five cautiously. Henry and Paul stood up to showthat they were white and friends, and the boat then came swiftly.

  "Who are you?" called one of the men.

  Henry replied, giving their identity briefly, and the man said:

  "My name is Charles Curd, and this is Henry Palmer. We live atLouisville and we are on the watch for friends and enemies alike. We'reglad to know that you're the former."

  They escorted the five back to the island, and curious people came downto the beach to see the forest runners land. Henry and his comrades fortheir part were no less curious and soon they were inspecting thislittle settlement which for protection had been cast in a spotsurrounded by the waters of the Ohio. They saw Corn Island, a lowstretch of soil, somewhat sandy but originally covered with heavyforest, now partly cleared away. Yet the ax had left sycamores ten feetthrough and one hundred feet high.

  The whole area of the island was only forty-three acres, but it alreadycontained several fields in which fine corn and pumpkins were raised. Ona slight rise was built the blockhouse in the form of an Egyptian cross,the blockhouse proper forming the body of the cross, while the cabins ofthe settlers constituted the arms. In addition to the sycamores, greatcottonwoods had grown here, but nearly all of them had been cut down,and then had been split into rails and boards. Back of the field and atthe western edge of the river, was a magnificent growth of cane, risingto a height of more than twenty feet.

  This little settlement, destined to be one of the great cities of theWest, had been founded by George Rogers Clark only two or three yearsbefore, and he had founded it in spite of himself. Starting fromRedstone on the Monongahela with one hundred and fifty militia for theconquest of the Illinois country he had been accompanied by twentypioneer families who absolutely refused to be turned back. Finding thatthey were bound to go with him Clark gave them his protection, but theystopped at Corn Island in the Ohio and there built their blockhouse. Nowit was a most important frontier post, a stronghold against the Indians.

  Before they ate of the food offered to them Henry looked inquiringly atthe smoke on the southern shore. Curd said with some pride:

  "We're growing here. We spread to the mainland in a year. Part of ourpeople have moved over there, and some new ones have come from Virginia.On the island and the mainland together, we've now got pretty nearly twohundred people and we've named our town Louisville in honor of KingLouis of France who is helping us in the East. We've got history, too,or rather it was made before we came here. An old chief, whom thewhites called Tobacco, told George Rogers Clark that the Alligewi, whichis their name for the Mound Builders, made their last stand here againstthe Shawnees, Miamis and other Indians who now roam in this region. Agreat battle occurred on an island at the Falls and the Mound Builderswere exterminated. As for myself, I know nothing about it, but it's whatTobacco said."

  Paul's curiosity was aroused instantly and he made a mental note toinvestigate the story, when he found an opportunity, but he was neverable to get any further than the Indian legend which most likely had abasis of truth. For the present, he and his comrades were content withthe welcome which the people on Corn Island gave them, a welcome full ofwarmth and good cheer. Their hosts put before them water cooled ingourds, cakes of Indian meal, pies of pumpkin, all kinds of game, andbeef and pork besides. While they ate and drank Henry, who as usual wasspokesman, told what had occurred at Detroit, further details of thesuccessful advance of the Indians and English under Bird, of which theyhad already heard, and the much greater but postponed scheme ofdestruction planned by Timmendiquas, de Peyster, Girty and theirassociates. Curd, Palmer and the others paled a little under their tanas they listened, but their courage came back swiftly.

  "At any rate," said Curd, "we've got a man to lead us against them, aman who strikes fast, sure and hard, George Rogers Clark, the hero ofVincennes and Kaskaskia, the greatest leader in all the West."

  "Why, is he here?" exclaimed Henry in surprise. "I thought he wasfarther East."

  "You'll see him inside of half an hour. He was at the other blockhouseon the southern shore, and we sent up a signal that strangers were here.There he comes now."

  A boat had put out from the southern bank. It contained three men, twoof whom were rowing, while the third sat upright in a military fashion.All his body beneath his shoulders was hidden by the boat's sides, buthis coat was of the Continental buff and blue, while a border cap ofraccoon skin crowned his round head. Such incongruous attire detractednothing from the man's dignity and presence. Henry saw that his face wasopen, his gaze direct, and that he was quite young. He was lookingstraight toward the five who had come with their new friends down to theriver's edge, and, when he sprang lightly upon the sand, he gave them amilitary salute. They returned it in like manner, while they looked withintense curiosity at the famous leader of the border forces. Clarkturned to Henry, whose figure and bearing indicated the chief.

  "You come from the North, from the depths of the Indian country, I takeit," he said.

  "From the very heart of it," replied the youth. "I was a prisoner atDetroit, and my comrades were near by outside the walls. We have alsoseen Bird returning from his raid with his prisoners and we know thatTimmendiquas, de Peyster, Girty, Caldwell, and the others are going tomake a supreme effort to destroy every settlement west of theAlleghanies. A great force under Timmendiquas, Caldwell and Girty camepart of the way but turned back, partly, I think, because of divisionsamong themselves and partly because they heard of your projectedadvance. But it will come again."

  The shoulders in the military coat seemed to stiffen and the eyes underthe raccoon skin cap flashed.

  "I did want to go back to Virginia," said Clark, "but I'm glad that I'mhere. Mr. Ware, young as you are, you've seen a lot of forest work, Itake it, and so I ask you what is the best way to meet an attack?"

  "T
o attack first."

  "Good! good! That was my plan! Report spoke true! We'll strike first.We'll show these officers and chiefs that we're not the men to sit idlyand wait for our foe. We'll go to meet him. Nay more, we'll find him inhis home and destroy him. Doesn't that appeal to you, my lads?"

  "It does," said five voices, emphatic and all together, and then Henryadded, speaking he knew for his comrades as well as himself:

  "Colonel Clark, we wish to volunteer for the campaign that we know youhave planned. Besides the work that we have done here in the West, wehave seen service in the East. We were at Wyoming when the terriblemassacre occurred, and we were with General Sullivan when he destroyedthe Iroquois power. But, sir, I wish to say that we do best in anindependent capacity, as scouts, skirmishers, in fact as a sort ofvanguard."

  Clark laughed and clapped a sinewy hand upon Henry's shoulder.

  "I see," he said. "You wish to go with me to war, but you wish at thesame time to be your own masters. It might be an unreasonable requestfrom some people, but, judging from what I see of you and what I haveheard of you and your comrades, it is just the thing. You are to watchas well as fight for me. Were you not the eyes of the fleet that AdamColfax brought up the Ohio?"

  Henry blushed and hesitated, but Clark exclaimed heartily:

  "Nay, do not be too modest, my lad! We are far apart here in the woods,but news spreads, nevertheless, and I remember sitting one afternoon andlistening to an old friend, Major George Augustus Braithwaite, tell atale of gallant deeds by river and forest, and how a fort and fleet weresaved largely through the efforts of five forest runners, two of whomwere yet boys. Major Braithwaite gave me detailed descriptions of thefive, and they answer so exactly to the appearance of you and yourcomrades that I am convinced you are the same. Since you are so modest,I will tell you to your face that I'd rather have you five than fiftyordinary men. Now, young sir, blush again and make the most of it!"

  Henry did blush, and said that the Colonel gave them far too muchcredit, but at heart he, like the other four, felt a great swell ofpride. Their deeds in behalf of the border were recognized by the greatleader, and surely it was legitimate to feel that one had not toiled andfought in vain for one's people.

  A few minutes later they sat down with Clark and some of the othersunder the boughs of the big sycamore, and gave a detailed account oftheir adventures, including all that they had seen from the time theyhad left for New Orleans until the present moment.

  "A great tale! a great tale!" said Clark, meditatively, "and I wish toadd, Mr. Ware, an illuminating one also. It throws light upon forestcouncils and forest plans. Besides your service in battle, you bring usnews that shows us how to meet our enemy and nothing could be of greatervalue. Now, I wish to say to you that it will take us many weeks tocollect the needful force, and that will give you two lads ample time,if you wish, to visit your home in Wareville, taking with you the worthyschoolmaster whom you have rescued so happily."

  Henry and Paul decided at once to accept the suggestion. Both felt thegreat pulses leap at mention of Wareville and home. They had not seentheir people for nearly two years, although they had sent word severaltimes that they were well. Now they felt an overwhelming desire to seeonce again their parents and the neat little village by the river,enclosed within its strong palisades. Yet they delayed a few days longerto attend to necessary preliminaries of the coming campaign. Amongother things they went the following morning to see the overflowsettlement on the south shore, now but a year old.

  This seed of a great city was yet faint and small. The previous winterhad been a terrible one for the immigrants. The Ohio had been coveredwith thick ice from shore to shore. Most of their horses and cattle hadfrozen to death. Nevertheless they had no thought of going away, andthere were many things to encourage the brave. They had a good harbor onthe river at the mouth of a fine creek, that they named Beargrass, andback of them was a magnificent forest of gum, buckeye, cherry, sycamore,maple and giant poplars. It had been proved that the soil was extremelyfertile, and they were too staunch to give up so fair a place. They alsohad a strong fort overlooking the river, and, with Clark among them,they were ready to defy any Indian force that might come.

  But the time passed quickly, and Henry and Paul and the schoolmasterwere ready for the last stage of their journey, deciding, in order thatthey might save their strength, to risk once more the dangers of thewater passage. They would go in a canoe until they came to the mouth ofthe river that flowed by Wareville and then row up the current of thelatter until they reached home. Shif'less Sol, Jim and Tom were going toremain with Clark until their return. But these three gave themhand-clasps of steel when they departed.

  "Don't you get trapped by wanderin' Indians, Henry," said the shiftlessone. "We couldn't get along very well without you fellers. Do most o'your rowin' at night an' lay by under overhangin' boughs in the day. Youknow more'n I do, Henry, but I'm so anxious about you I can't keep fromgivin' advice."

  "Don't any of you do too much talkin'," said Silent Tom. "Injuns hearpow'ful well, an' many a feller hez been caught in an ambush, an' hezlost his scalp jest 'cause he would go along sayin' idle words that toldthe Injuns whar he wuz, when he might hev walked away safe without tharever knowin' he wuz within a thousand miles uv them."

  "An' be mighty particular about your cookin'," said Long Jim. "Many agood man hez fell sick an' died, jest 'cause his grub wuzn't fixedeggzackly right. An' when you light your fires fur ven'son an' buffalosteaks be shore thar ain't too much smoke. More than once smoke hezbrought the savages down on people. Cookin' here in the woods is notcookin' only, it's also a delicate an' bee-yu-ti-ful art that savesmen's lives when it's done right, by not leadin' Shawnees, Wyandots an'other ferocious warriors down upon 'em."

  Henry promised every one of the three to follow his advice religiously,and there was moisture in his and Paul's eyes when they caught the lastview of them standing upon the bank and waving farewell. The nextinstant they were hidden by a curve of the shore, and then Henry said:

  "It's almost like losing one's right arm to leave those three behind. Idon't feel complete without them."

  "Nor do I," said Paul. "I believe they were giving us all that advicepartly to hide their emotion."

  "Undoubtedly they were," said Mr. Pennypacker in a judicial tone, "and Iwish to add that I do not know three finer characters, somewhateccentric perhaps, but with hearts in the right place, and with soundheads on strong shoulders. They are like some ancient classic figures ofwhom I have read, and they are fortunate, too, to live in the right timeand right place for them."

  They made a safe passage over a stretch of the Ohio and then turned upthe tributary river, rowing mostly, as Shif'less Sol had suggested, bynight, and hiding their canoe and themselves by day. It was notdifficult to find a covert as the banks along the smaller river werenearly always overhung by dense foliage, and often thick cane andbushes grew well into the water's edge. Here they would stop when thesun was brightest, and sometimes the heat was so great that not refugefrom danger alone made them glad to lie by when the golden rays camevertically. Then they would make themselves as comfortable as possiblein the boat and bearing Silent Tom's injunction in mind, talk in verylow tones, if they talked at all. But oftenest two of them slept whilethe third watched.

  They had been three days upon the tributary when it was Henry whohappened to be watching. Both Paul and the teacher slumbered verysoundly. Paul lay at the stern of the boat and Mr. Pennypacker in themiddle. Henry was in the prow, sitting at ease with his rifle across hisknees. The boat was amid a tall growth of canes, the stalks and bladesrising a full ten feet above their heads, and hiding them completely.Henry had been watching the surface of the river, but at last the actiongrew wholly mechanical. Had anything appeared there he would have seenit, but his thoughts were elsewhere. His whole life, since he hadarrived, a boy of fifteen, in the Kentucky wilderness, was passingbefore him in a series of pictures, vivid and wonderful, standing outlike reality itself. He was in
a sort of twilight midway between thedaylight and a dream, and it seemed to him once more that Providence hadkept a special watch over his comrades and himself. How else could theyhave escaped so many dangers? How else could fortune have turned totheir side, when the last chance seemed gone? No skill, even when itseemed almost superhuman, could have dragged them back from the pit ofdeath. He felt with all the power of conviction that a great mission hadbeen given to them, and that they had been spared again and again thatthey might complete it.

  While he yet watched and saw, he visited a misty world. The wind hadrisen and out of the dense foliage above him came its song upon thestalks and blades of the cane. A low note at first, it swelled intotriumph, and it sounded clearly in his ear, bar on bar. He did not havethe power to move, as he listened then to the hidden voice. His bloodleaped and a deep sense of awe, and of the power of the unknown sweptover him. But he was not afraid. Rather he shared in the triumph thatwas expressed so clearly in the mystic song.

  The note swelled, touched upon its highest note and then died slowlyaway in fall after fall, until it came in a soft echo and then the echoitself was still. Henry returned to the world of reality with everysense vivid and alert. He heard the wind blowing in the cane and nothingmore. The surface of the river rippled lightly in the breeze, butneither friend nor enemy passed there. The stream was as lonely anddesolate as if man had never come. He shook himself a little, but thespiritual exaltation, born of the song and the misty region that he hadvisited, remained.

  "A sign, a prophecy!" he murmured. His heart swelled. The new task wouldbe achieved as the others had been. It did not matter whether he hadheard or had dreamed. His confidence in the result was absolute. He sata long time looking out upon the water, but never moving. Anyoneobserving him would have concluded after a while that he was no humanbeing, merely an image. It would not have seemed possible that anyliving organism could have remained as still as a stone so many hours.

  When the sun showed that it was well past noon, Paul awoke. He glancedat Henry, who nodded. The nod meant that all was well. By and by Mr.Pennypacker, also, awoke and then Henry in his turn went to sleep soeasily and readily that it seemed a mere matter of will. Theschoolmaster glanced at him and whispered to Paul:

  "A great youth, Paul! Truly a great youth! It is far from old Greece tothis forest of Kaintuckee, but he makes me think of the mighty heroeswho are enshrined in the ancient legends and stories."

  "That thought has come to me, too," Paul whispered back. "I like topicture him as Hector, but Hector with a better fate. I don't thinkHenry was born for any untimely end."

  "No, that could not be," said the schoolmaster with conviction.

  Then they relapsed into silence and just about the time the first shadowbetokened the coming twilight Paul heard a faint gurgling sound which hewas sure was made by oars. He touched the schoolmaster and whispered tohim to listen. Then he pulled Henry's shoulder slightly, and instantlythe great youth sat up, wide awake.

  "Someone is near," whispered Paul. "Listen!"

  Henry bent his head close to the water and distinctly heard the swishingof paddles, coming in the direction that they had followed in the night.It was a deliberate sound and Henry inferred at once that those whoapproached were in no hurry and feared no enemy. Then he drew the secondinference that it was Indians. White men would know that danger wasalways about them in these woods.

  "We have nothing to do but lie here and see them as they pass," hewhispered to his companions. "We are really as safe among these densecanes as if we were a hundred miles away, provided we make no noise."

  There was no danger that any of them would make a noise. They lay sostill that their boat never moved a hair and not even the wariest savageon the river would have thought that one of their most formidableenemies and two of his friends lay hidden in the canes so near.

  "Look!" whispered Henry. "There is Braxton Wyatt!"

  Henry and Paul were eager enough to see but the schoolmaster wasperhaps the most eager of all. This was something new in his experience.He had heard much of Braxton Wyatt, the renegade, once a pupil of his,and he did not understand how one of white blood and training could turnaside to join the Indians, and to become a more ruthless enemy of hisown people than the savages themselves. Yet there could be no doubt ofits truth, and now that he saw Wyatt he understood. Evil passions makean evil face. Braxton Wyatt's jaw was now heavy and projecting, his eyeswere dark and lowering, and his cheek bones seemed to have become highlike those of the warriors with whom he lived. The good Mr. Pennypackershuddered. He had lived long and he could read the hearts of men. Heknew now that Braxton Wyatt, despite his youth, was lost beyondredemption to honor and truth. The schoolmaster shuddered again.

  The boat--a large one--contained besides Wyatt a white man, obviously arenegade, and six sturdy Shawnee warriors who were wielding the paddles.The warriors were quite naked, save for the breechcloth, and their broadshoulders and chests were painted with many hideous decorations. Theirrifles lay beside them. Braxton Wyatt's manner showed that he was theleader and Henry had no doubt that this was a party of scouts come tospy upon Wareville. It was wholly likely that Braxton Wyatt, who knewthe place so thoroughly, should undertake such an errand.

  Henry was right. Timmendiquas, de Peyster and Girty as leaders of theallied forces preparing for invasion in case Clark could not gather asufficient force for attack, were neglecting no precaution. They hadsent forth small parties to examine into the condition of every stationin Kentucky. These parties were not to make any demonstration, lest thesettlers be put on their guard, but, after obtaining their information,were to retire as silently as they had come. Braxton Wyatt had promptlysecured command of the little force sent toward Wareville, taking withhim as lieutenant a young renegade, a kindred spirit named Early.

  Strange emotions agitated Wyatt when he started. He had a desire to seeonce more the place where he had been a boy with other boys of his ownwhite race, and where he might yet have been with his own kind, if asoul naturally turning to malice had not sent him off to the savages.Because he was now an outcast, although of his own making, he hated hisearlier associates all the more. He sought somehow to blame them for it.They had never appreciated him enough. Had they put him forward andgiven him his due, he would not now be making war upon them. Foolish andblind, they must suffer the consequences of their own stupidity. WhenWareville was taken, he might induce the Indians to spare a few, butthere were certainly some who should not be spared. His brow was blackand his thoughts were blacker. It may be that Henry read them, becausehis hand slid gently forward to the hammer of his rifle. But his willchecked the hand before it could cock the weapon, and he shook his headimpatiently.

  "Not now," he said in the softest of whispers, "but we must follow thatboat. It is going toward Wareville and that is our way. Since we haveseen him it is for us to deal with Wyatt before he can do moremischief."

  Paul nodded, and even the soul of the good schoolmaster stirred withwarlike ardor. He was not a child of the forest. He knew little ofambush and the trail, but he was ready to spend his strength and bloodfor the good of his own people. So he too nodded, and then waited fortheir young leader to act.

  Braxton Wyatt passed on southward and up the stream of the river. Therewas no song among the leaves for him, but his heart was still full ofcruel passions. He did not dream that a boat containing the one whom hehated most had lain in the cane within twenty yards of him. He wasthinking instead of Wareville and of the way in which he would spy outevery weak place there. He and Early had become great friends, and nowhe told his second much about the village.

  "Wareville is strong," he said, "and they have many excellent riflemen.We were repulsed there once, when we made an attack in force, and wemust take it by surprise. Once we are inside the palisade everythingwill soon be over. I hope that we will catch Ware and his comrades therewhen we catch the others."

  "He seems hard to hold," said Early. "That escape of his from Detroitwas a daring and skill
ful thing. I could hardly believe it when we heardof it at the Ohio. You're bound to admit that, Braxton."

  "I admit it readily enough," said Wyatt. "Oh, he's brave and cunning andstrong. He would not be so much worth taking if he were not all thosethings!"

  Early glanced at the face of his leader.

  "You do dislike him, that's sure!" he said.

  "You make no mistake when you say so," replied Wyatt. "There are notmany of us here in the woods, and somehow he and I seem to have beenalways in opposition in the last two or three years. I think, however,that a new campaign will end in overwhelming victory for us, andKaintuckee will become a complete wilderness again."

  The stalwart Shawnees paddled on all that afternoon without stopping orcomplaining once. It was a brilliant day in early summer, all goldensunshine, but not too warm. The river flowed in curve after curve, andits surface was always illumined by the bright rays save where theunbroken forest hung in a green shadow over either edge. Scarlettanagers darted like flashes of flame from tree to tree, and from lowboughs a bird now and then poured forth a full measure of song. BraxtonWyatt had never looked upon a more peaceful wilderness, but before thesun began to set he was afflicted with a strange disquiet. An expertwoodsman with an instinct for the sounds and stirrings of the forest, hebegan to have a belief that they were not alone on the river. He heardnothing and saw nothing, yet he felt in a vague, misty way that theywere followed. He tried to put aside the thought as foolish, but itbecame so strong that at last he gave a signal to stop.

  "What is it?" asked Early, as the paddles ceased to sigh through thewater.

  "I thought I heard something behind us," replied Wyatt, although he hadheard nothing, "and you know we cannot afford to be seen here by anywhite scout or hunter."

  The Indians listened intently with their trained ears and then shooktheir heads. There was no sound behind them, save the soft flowing ofthe river, as it lapped against either bank.

  "I hear nothing," said Early.

  "Nor do I," admitted Wyatt, "yet I could have sworn a few minutes agothat we were being followed. Instinct is sometimes a good guide in theforest."

  "Then I suggest," said Early, "that we turn back for a few miles. We canfloat with the current close up to the bank under the overhangingboughs, and, if hunters or scouts are following us, they'll soon wishthey were somewhere else."

  He laughed and Braxton Wyatt joined him in his savage mirth.

  "Your idea is a good one," said Wyatt, "and we may catch a mouse or twoin our trap."

  He gave another signal and the Shawnees turned the boat about,permitting it to float back with the stream, but as Early had suggested,keeping it in the shadow. Despite his experience and the lack of proofthat anyone else was near, Wyatt's heart began to beat fast. Supposethe game was really there, and it should prove to be of the kind that hewanted most to take! This would be indeed a triumph worth while, and hewould neglect no precaution to achieve it. They had gone back about amile now, and he signaled to the warriors to swing the boat yet a littlecloser to the bank. He still heard no sound, but the belief was oncemore strong upon him that the quarry was there. They drifted slowly andyet there was nothing. His eye alighted upon a great mass of bushesgrowing in the shallow water at the edge of the river. He told thepaddlers to push the boat among them until it should be completelyhidden and then he waited.

  But time passed and nothing came. The sun dropped lower. The yellowlight on the water turned to red, and the forest flamed under thesetting sun. A light breeze sprang up and the foliage rustled under itstouch. Braxton Wyatt, from his covert among the bushes, watched withanger gnawing at his heart. He had been wrong or whoever it was thatfollowed had been too wary. He was crafty and had laid his trap well,but others were crafty, too, and would turn from the door of an opentrap.

  The sun sank further. The red in the west deepened but gray shadows werecreeping over the east and the surface of the river began to darken.Nothing had come. Nothing was coming. Braxton Wyatt said reluctantly tohimself that his instinct had been wrong. He gave the word to pull theboat from the canes, and to proceed up the stream again. He was annoyed.He had laid a useless trap and he had made himself look cheap before theIndians. So he said nothing for a long time, but allowed his anger tosimmer. When it was fully dark they tied up the boat and camped onshore, in the bushes near the water.

  Wyatt was too cautious to permit a fire, and they ate cold food in thedarkness. After a while, all slept but two of the Shawnees who keptwatch. Wyatt's slumbers were uneasy. About midnight he awoke, and he wasoppressed by the same presentiment that had made him turn back the boat.He heard nothing and saw nothing save his own men, but his instinct wasat work once more, and it told him that his party was watched. He lay indark woods in a vast wilderness, but he felt in every bone that nearthem was an alien presence.

  Wyatt raised himself upon his arm and looked at the two red sentinels.Not a muscle of either had stirred. They were so much carven bronze.Their rifles lay across their knees and they stared fixedly at theforest. But he knew that their eyes and ears were of the keenest andthat but little could escape their attention. Yet they had notdiscovered the presence. He rose finally to his feet. The Indians heardthe faint noise that he made and glanced at him. But he was theircommander and they said nothing, resuming in an instant their watch ofthe forest.

  Wyatt did not take his rifle. Instead, he kept his hand on the hilt of afine double-barreled pistol in his belt. After some hesitation he walkedto the river and looked at the boat. It was still there, tied securely.No one had meddled with it. The moon was obscured and the surface of theriver looked black. No object upon it could be seen far away. Helistened attentively and heard nothing. But he could not rid himself ofthe belief that they had been followed, that even now a foe was near. Hewalked back to the little camp and looked at Early who was sleepingsoundly. He was impatient with himself because he could not do likewise,and then, shrugging his shoulders, he went further into the forest.

  The trees grew closely where Wyatt stood and there were busheseverywhere. His concealment was good and he leaned against the trunk ofa huge oak to listen. He could not see fifteen feet away, but he did notbelieve that any human being could pass near and escape his hearing. Hestood thus in the darkness for a full ten minutes, and then he was quitesure that he did hear a sound as of a heavy body moving slightly. It wasnot instinct or prescience, the product of a vivid fancy, but a reality.He had been too long in the woods to mistake the fact. Something wasstalking something else and undoubtedly the stalker was a man.

  What was the unknown stalking? Suddenly a cold sweat broke out onBraxton Wyatt's face. It was he who was being stalked and he was nowbeyond the sight of his own sentinels. He was, for the moment, alone inthe midnight woods, and he was afraid. Braxton Wyatt was not naturally acoward, and he had been hardened in the school of forest warfare, butsuperstitious terrors assailed him now. He was sorry that he had leftthe camp. His curiosity had been too great. If he wished to explore thewoods, why had he not brought some of the Indians with him?

  He called upon his courage, a courage that had seldom failed him, but itwould not come now. He heard the stalker moving again in the bushes, notfifteen yards away, and the hand on the pistol belt became wet. Heglanced up but there was no moon and clouds hid the sky. Only ear couldtell when the danger was about to fall, and then it would be too late.

  He made a supreme effort, put his will in control of his paralyzedlimbs, and wrenched himself away. He almost ran to the camp. Thenbringing his pride to his aid he dropped to a walk, and stepped backinto the circle of the camp. But he was barely able to restrain a cry ofrelief as the chill passed from his backbone. Angry and humiliated, heawakened four of the Shawnees and sent them into the woods in search ofa foe. Early was aroused by the voices and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

  "What is it, Braxton?" he asked. "Are we about to be attacked?"

  "No," replied Wyatt, calming himself with a violent effort, "but I amconvinced that there is so
meone in the bushes watching us. I know that Iheard the noise of footsteps and I only hope that our Shawnees will runafoul of him."

  "If he's there they'll get him," said Early confidently.

  "I don't know," said Braxton Wyatt.

  The Indians came back presently, and one of them spoke to Wyatt, whowent with them into the bushes. The moon had come out a little and, byits faint light, they showed him traces of footsteps. The imprints wereever so light, but experienced trailers could not doubt that humanbeings had passed. The renegade felt at the same time a certain reliefand a certain alarm, relief to know that he had not been a mere prey tofoolish fears, and alarm because they had been stalked by some spy soskillful and wary that they could not follow him. The Indians hadendeavored to pursue the trail, but after a rod or so it was lost amongthe bushes.

  Wyatt, apprehensive lest his mission should fail, doubled the watch andthen sought sleep. He did not find it for a long time, but towardmorning he fell into a troubled slumber from which he was awakened byEarly about an hour after the sun had appeared above the eastern forest.

  "We must be moving," said Early, "if we're going to spy out thatWareville of yours and tell our people how to get in."

  "You're right," said Wyatt, "but we must watch behind us now as well asbefore. It is certain that we are followed and I'm afraid that we'refollowed by an enemy most dangerous."

  Neglecting no precaution, he ordered a warrior to follow along the bankabout two miles in the rear. An Indian in the deep brush could not beseen and the renegade's savage heart thrilled at the thought that afterall he might be setting a trap into which his enemy would walk. Then hisboat moved forward, more slowly now, and hugging the bank more closelythan ever. Wyatt knew the way well. He had been several times along thisriver, a fine broad stream. He meant to leave the boat and take to theforest when within twenty miles of Wareville, but, before doing so, hehoped to achieve a victory which would console him for many defeats.

  The warrior left behind for purposes of ambush was to rejoin them atnoon, but at the appointed hour he did not come. Nor did he come at oneo'clock or at two. He never came, and after Wyatt had raged withdisappointment and apprehension until the middle of the afternoon hesent back a second warrior to see what had become of him. The secondwarrior was the best trailer and scout in the band, a Shawnee with agreat reputation among his fellows, but when the night arrived neitherhe nor the other warrior arrived with it. They waited long for both.Three of the Indians in a group went back, but they discovered no sign.They returned full of superstitious terror which quickly communicateditself to the others and Wyatt and Early, despite their white blood,felt it also.

  A most vigilant watch was kept that night. No fire was lighted andnobody slept. The renegade still hoped that the two missing warriorswould return, but they did not do so. The other Indians began to believethat the evil spirit had taken them, and they were sorry that they hadcome upon such an errand. They wished to go back down the stream andbeyond the Ohio. Near morning a warrior saw something moving in thebushes and fired at it. The shot was returned quick as a flash, and thewarrior, who would fire no more, fell at the feet of the others and laystill. Wyatt and his men threw themselves upon their faces, and, after along wait, searched the bushes, but found nothing.

  Now the Indians approached the point of rebellion. It was against thewill of Manitou that they should prosper on their errand. The loss ofthree comrades was the gravest of warnings and they should turn back.But Wyatt rebuked them angrily. He did not mean to be beaten in such away by an enemy who remained in hiding. The bullet had shown that it wasan earthly foe, and, as far as Manitou was concerned, he always awardedthe victory to courage, skill and luck. The Indians went forwardreluctantly.

  The next night they tied up again by the wooded bank. Wyatt wanted twoof the warriors to remain in the boat, but they refused absolutely to doso. Despite all that he could say their superstitious fears were strongupon them, and they meant to stay close to their comrades upon the solidearth. Dreading too severe a test of his authority the renegadeconsented, and all of them, except the guards, lay down among the bushesnear the shore. It was a fine summer night, not very dark, and Wyatt didnot believe a foe could come near them without being seen. He felt moreconfidence, but again he was sleepless. He closed his eyes and soughtslumber by every device that he knew, but it would not come. At last hemade a circuit with Early and two of the Indians in the forest about thecamp, but saw and heard nothing. Returning, he lay down on his blanketand once more wooed sleep with shut eyes.

  Sleep still refused obstinately to come, and in ten minutes the renegadereopened his eyes. His glance wandered idly over the recumbent Indianswho were sound asleep, and then to those who watched. It passed fromthem to the river and the black blur of the boat lying upon the waterabout twenty yards away. Then it passed on and after a while came backagain to the boat.

  Braxton Wyatt knew that optical illusions were common, especially in theobscurity of night. One could look so long at a motionless object thatit seemed to move. That was why the boat, tied securely to low boughs,did that curious trick of apparently gliding over the surface of theriver. Wyatt laughed at himself. In the faint light, brain was superiorto eye. He would not allow himself to be deceived, and the quality ofmind that saved him from delusions gave him pride. He did not have avery good view of the boat from the point where he lay, but he sawenough of it to know that when he looked again it would be lying exactlywhere it had been all the time, despite that illusory trick of movement.So, to show the superiority of will over fancy, he kept his eyes shut alonger time than usual, and when he opened them once more he lookeddirectly at the boat. Surely the shifting light was playing him newtricks. Apparently it was much farther out in the stream and wasdrifting with the current.

  Wyatt reproved himself as an unsteady fool. His nerves were shaken, andin order to restore his calmness he closed his eyes once more. But theeyes would not stay shut. Will was compelled to yield at last to impulseand the lids came apart. He was somewhat angry at himself. He did notwish to look at the boat again, and repeat those foolish illusions, buthe did so nevertheless.

  Braxton Wyatt sprang to his feet with a cry of alarm and warning. It wasno trick of fancy. He saw with eyes that did not lie a boat out in themiddle of the stream and every moment going faster with the current. Thepower that propelled it was unseen, but Wyatt knew it to be there.

  "Fire! Fire!" he shouted to his men. "Somebody is carrying off ourboat!"

  Rifles flashed and bullets made the water spout. Two struck the boatitself, but it moved on with increasing swiftness. Wyatt, Early and theIndians dashed to the water's edge, but a sharp crack came from thefurther shore, and Early fell forward directly into the river. Wyatt andthe Indians shrank back into the bushes where they lay hidden. But therenegade, with a sort of frightened fascination, watched the waterpulling at the body of his slain comrade, until it was carried away bythe current and floated out of sight. The boat, meanwhile, moved onuntil it, too, passed a curve, and was lost from view.

  Wyatt recovered his courage and presence of mind, but he sought in vainto urge the Shawnees in pursuit. Superstition held them in a firm grasp.It was true that Early had been slain by a bullet, but a mystic powerwas taking the boat away. The hand of Manitou was against them and theywould return to the country north of the Ohio. They started at once, andWyatt, raging, was compelled to go with them, since he did not dare togo southward alone.