CHAPTER XIX
THE WARNING
Meanwhile war belts were passing through all the forest, from tribe totribe, to Shawnee, Miami, Ottawa, Wyandot--to every band, large or small.Another great effort would be made to drive back the thin white vanguardthat was now entering the finest hunting ground savages had everknown--the vast green wilderness of the Mississippi Valley, where thewarriors had roamed and killed game for unknown generations. Northern andsouthern tribes had often met and fought in _Kain-tuck-ee_, but alwayseach retreated after the conflict to north or to south, leaving_Kain-tuck-ee_ as it was before--a land of forest and canebrake, inhabitedonly by the wild beast.
Now, every warrior felt that the coming of the white stream over themountains, however slender it might be at first, threatened a change,great and disastrous to them, unless checked at once. These white men cutdown the forest, built houses that were meant to stay in one place--housesof logs--and plowed up the fields where the forest had been. They felt insome dim, but none the less certain, way that not only their favoritehunting grounds, but they and their own existence, were threatened.
They had failed the year before in a direct attack upon the newsettlements, but these little oases in the wilderness must in time perishunless the white stream coming over the mountains still reached them,nourishing them with fresh bone and sinew, and making them grow. A greatwagon train was coming, and this they would strike, surprising it in thevast, dark wilderness when it was not dreaming that even a single warriorwas near.
A great defeat they had suffered at Wareville the year before still stung,and the spur of revenge was added to the spur of need. What they felt theyought to do was exactly what they wanted to do, and they were full ofhope. They did not know that the stream flowing over the mountains, now sosmall, was propelled by a tremendous force behind it, the great white racealways moving onward, and they expected nothing less than a completetriumph.
Active warriors passed through the deep woods, bearing belts and messages.Their faces were eager, and always they urged war. A long journey laybefore them, but the blow would be a master stroke. They were receivedeverywhere with joy and approval. The tomahawks were dug up, the wardances were danced, the war songs sung, and the men began to paint theirfaces and bodies for battle. A hum and a murmur ran through thenorthwestern forests, the hum and murmur of preparation and hope. Only thefive, on their little island in the lake, yet heard this hum and murmur,so ominous to the border, but they were ready to carry the message throughthe wilderness to those to whom the warning meant the most.
* * * * *
The largest wagon train that had yet crossed the mountains into_Kain-tuck-ee_ toiled slowly along the Wilderness Road among thefoothills, bearing steadily toward the Northwest. The line of canvascovers stretched away more than a hundred in number, and contained fivehundred souls, of whom, perhaps, half were men and boys capable of bearingarms, the rest women and children.
They looked upon mountain, hill and forest, river and brook, with much thesame eyes as those with which Henry and Paul had beheld them not so verylong before, but they were not seeking at random in the wilderness as theWareville people had done. No, they moved forward now to a certain mark.They were to join their brethren at Wareville and Marlowe, and double thestrength of the settlements. Word had come to them over the mountainsthat the little outposts in the vast wilderness lived and flourished, andthe country was good. Moreover, they and their strength were needed.Wareville and Marlowe looked for them as eagerly as they looked forWareville and Marlowe.
Spring was deepening, and already had drawn its robe of green over all theearth, but Daniel Poe, the commander of the wagon train, paid littleattention to its beauty. He was nearly sixty years of age, but in the veryprime of his strength--a great, square-shouldered man, his head and facecovered with thick, black beard. His eyes had their habitual look ofwatchful care. They had seen no Indian sign as they crossed the mountains,but he knew now that they were on the Dark and Bloody Ground, and thelives of five hundred human beings were a heavy responsibility.
"You are sure the country is entirely safe?" he said to Dick Salter, oneof his guides.
"I don't know no reason to doubt it," replied Salter. "The savages don'toften get down here. The villages uv the northwestern tribes must be closeon to a thousand miles from here, an' besides they were beat off lastyear, an' beat badly, when they tried to rush Wareville."
"That is so," said Daniel Poe thoughtfully; "we had word of it. But,Dick, we can't afford to take all these people into danger here in thewoods. Look at the women and children."
They had just begun to stop for the night, and to draw the wagons into acircle in a convenient, slightly hollowed, open place. The women andchildren were trooping about upon the grass, and the air was filled withthe sound of merry voices. All were browned by the sun, but they werehealthy and joyous, and they looked forward with keen delight to meetingkin who had gone on before at Wareville. They had no fear of the mightyforests, when more than two hundred pairs of strong arms fenced themabout.
"That is shorely a pleasant sight," said Dick Salter. "I've seed the samemany evenin's, an' I hope to see it many more evenin's. We'll get 'emthrough, Mr. Poe, we'll get 'em through!"
"I hope so," said Daniel Poe earnestly.
They had begun to light the evening fires, and in the west a great red sunblazed just above the hills. Daniel Poe suddenly put his hand upon DickSalter's arm.
"Dick, what is that?" he said, pointing with a long forefinger.
A black silhouette had appeared on the crest of a hill in the very eye ofthe sun, and Dick Salter, shading his brow with his hand, gazed long andanxiously.
"It's a man," he said at last, "an' ef I'm any judge uv a human bein' it'sabout the finest specimen uv a man that ever trod green grass. Look, Mr.Poe!"
The figure, outlined against its brilliant background, seemed to grow andcome nearer. Others had seen now, and the whole wagon train gazed withintent and curious eyes. They saw in the blazing light every detail of anerect and splendid figure, evidently that of a youth, but tall beyond theaverage of men. He was clad in forest garb--fringed hunting shirt andleggings and raccoon-skin cap. He stood erect, but easily, holding by themuzzle a long, slender-barreled rifle, which rested, stock upon theground. Seen there in all the gorgeous redness of the evening sunlight,there was something majestic, something perhaps weird and unreal, in thegrand and silent figure.
"He's white, that's shore!" said Dick Salter.
"He looks like a wilderness god," murmured Daniel Poe, in his beard.
"Look!" exclaimed Dick Salter. "There's another!"
A second figure appeared suddenly beside the first, that of a youth, also,not so tall as the first; but he, too, stood erect, silent andmotionless, gazing at the wagon train.
"And a third!" exclaimed Daniel Poe.
"And a fourth and fifth!" added Dick Salter. "See, there are five uv 'em!"
Three other figures had appeared, seeming to arise in the sunlight as ifby Arabian magic; and now all five stood there in a row, side by side,everyone silent and motionless, and everyone holding by the muzzle a long,slender-barreled rifle, its stock upon the ground, as he gazed at thetrain.
A deep breath ran through the crowd of emigrants, and all--men, women, andchildren--moved forward for a better look. There was something mysteriousand uncanny in this sudden apparition of the five there in the blazinglight of the setting sun, which outlined their figures in every detail andraised them to gigantic proportions. On those hills only was light;everywhere else the mighty curving wilderness, full of unknown terrors,was already dark with the coming night.
"It is our omen of danger. I feel it, I feel it In every bone of me,"murmured Daniel Poe into his great black beard.
"We must find out what this means, that's shore," said Dick Salter.
But as he spoke, the first figure, that of the great, splendid youth,stepped right out of the eye of the sun, and he was followed in
singlefile by the four others, all stepping in unison. They came down the hill,and directly toward the travelers. Again that deep breath ran through thecrowd of emigrants, and the chief note of it was admiration, mingled withan intense curiosity.
All the five figures were strange and wild, sinewy, powerful, almost asdark as Indians, their eyes watchful and wary and roving from side toside, their clothing wholly of skins and furs, singular and picturesque.They seemed almost to have come from another world. But Daniel Poe wasnever lacking either in the qualities of hospitality or leadership.
"Friends," he said, "as white men--for such I take you to be--you arewelcome to our camp."
The first of the five, the great, tall youth with the magnificentshoulders, smiled, and it seemed to Daniel Poe that the smile waswonderfully frank and winning.
"Yes, we are white, though we may not look it," he said in a clear, deepvoice, "and we have come near a thousand miles to meet you."
"To meet us?" repeated Daniel Poe, in surprise, while Dick Salter, besidehim, was saying to himself, as he looked at one of the five: "Ef thatain't Tom Ross, then I'll eat my cap."
"Yes," repeated Henry Ware, with the most convincing emphasis, "it's youthat we've come to meet. We belong at Wareville, although we've been farin the North throughout the winter. My name is Henry Ware, this is PaulCotter, and these are Tom Ross, Sol Hyde, and Jim Hart. We must have aword with you at once, where the others cannot hear."
Tom Ross and Dick Salter, old friends, were already shaking hands. HenryWare glanced at the emigrants pressing forward in a great crowd, andsympathy and tenderness showed in his eyes as he looked at the eager,childish faces so numerous among them.
"Will you keep them back?" he said to Daniel Poe. "I must speak to youwhere none of those can hear."
Daniel Poe waved away the crowd, and then took a step forward.
"We have come," said Henry Ware, in low, intense tones, "to warn you thatyou are going to be attacked by a great force of warriors, furnished bythe league of the northwestern tribes. They mean that you shall neverreach Wareville or Marlowe, to double the strength of those settlements.They would have laid an ambush for you, but we have been among them and weknow their plans."
A shiver ran through the stalwart frame of Daniel Poe--a shiver ofapprehension, not for himself, but for the five hundred human livesintrusted to his care. Then he steadied himself.
"We can fight," he said, "and I thank you for your warning; I cannot doubtits truth."
"We will stay with you," said Henry Ware. "We know the signs of theforest, and we can help in the battle that is sure to come, and alsobefore and after."
His voice was full of confidence and courage, and it sent an electricthrill through the veins of Daniel Poe. Henry Ware was one of thoseextraordinary human beings whose very presence seems to communicatestrength to others.
"We'll beat 'em off," said Daniel Poe sanguinely.
"Yes, we'll beat 'em off," said Henry Ware. Then he continued: "You musttell all the men, and of course the women and children will hear of if,but it's best to let the news spread gradually."
Daniel Poe went back with the messengers to the wagons, and soon it wasknown to everybody that the Indians were laying an ambush for them all.Some wails broke forth from the women, but they were quickly suppressed,and all labored together to put the camp in posture of defense. Thestrangers were among them, cheering them, and predicting victory ifbattle should come. Paul, in particular, quickly endeared himself to them.He was so hearty, so full of jests, and he quoted all sorts of scraps ofold history bearing particularly upon their case, and showing that theymust win if attacked.
"There was a race of very valiant people living a very long, long timeago," he said, "who always made their armies intrench at night. Nobodycould take a Roman camp, and we've got to imitate those old fellows."
Under the guidance of Paul and his friends, the Roman principle wasfollowed, at least in part. The wagons were drawn up in a great circle inan open space, where they could not be reached by a rifle shot from thetrees, and then more than two hundred men, using pick and spade, speedilythrew up an earthwork three feet high that inclosed the wagons. Henry Wareregarded it with the greatest satisfaction.
"I don't know any Indian force," he said, "that will rush such a barrierin the face of two or three hundred rifles. Now, Mr. Poe, you post guardsat convenient intervals, and the rest of you can take it easy inside."
The guards were stationed, but inside the ring of wagons many fires burnedbrightly, and around them was a crowd that talked much, but talked low.The women could not sleep, nor could the children, whose curiosity wasintensely aroused by the coming of these extraordinary-looking strangers.The larger of the children understood the danger, but the smaller did not,and their spirits were not dampened at all.
The night came down, a great blanket of darkness, in the center of whichthe camp fires were now fused together into a cone of light. A few starscame out in the dusky heavens, and twinkled feebly. The spring wind sighedgently among the new leaves of the forest. The voices of women andchildren gradually died. Some slept in blankets before the fires, andothers in the wagons, whose stout oak sides would turn any bullet.
Daniel Poe walked just outside the circle of the wagons, and his heart washeavy with care. Yet he was upborne by the magnetic personality of HenryWare, who walked beside him.
"How far from us do you think they are now?" he asked.
"Fifty miles, perhaps, and they are at least a thousand strong. It wastheir object to fall suddenly upon you in the dark, but when their scoutsfind that you fortify every night, they will wait to ambush you on theday's march."
"Undoubtedly," said Daniel Poe, "and we've got to guard against it as bestwe can."
"But my comrades and I and Dick Salter will be your eyes," said Henry."We'll be around you in the woods, watching all the time."
"Thank God that you have come," said Daniel Poe devoutly. "I think thatProvidence must have sent you and your friends to save us. Think whatmight have happened if you had not come."
He shuddered. Before him came a swift vision of red slaughter--women andchildren massacred in the darkness. Then his brave heart swelled to meetthe coming danger. The night passed without alarm, but Henry, Ross, andShif'less Sol, roaming far in the forest, saw signs that told theminfallibly where warriors had passed.
"The attack will come," said Henry.
"As sure as night follows day," said Ross, "an' it's our business to knowwhen it's about to come."
Henry nodded, and the three sped on in their great circle about the camp,not coming in until a little before day, when they slept briefly beforeone of the fires. When the people arose and found that nothing hadhappened, they were light-hearted. Nothing had happened, so nothing wouldhappen, they said to themselves; they were too strong for the danger thathad threatened, and it would pass them by. Day was so much more cheerfulthan night.
They ate breakfast, their appetites brisk in the crisp morning air, andresumed the march. But they advanced slowly, the wagons in a close, triplefile, with riflemen on either side. But Daniel Poe knew that their chiefreliance now was the eyes of the five strangers, who were in the forest oneither side and in front. They had made a deep impression upon him, asthey had upon every other person with whom they came into contact. He hadthe most implicit confidence in their courage, skill, and faith.
The wagons went slowly on through the virgin wilderness, Daniel Poe andDick Salter at their head, the riflemen all along the flanks.
"We'll strike a river some time to-morrow," said Salter. "It's narrow anddeep, and the ford will be hard."
"I wish we were safely on the other side," said Daniel Poe.
"So do I," said Dick Salter, and his tone was full of meaning.
Yet the day passed as the night had passed, and nothing happened. They hadsafely crossed the mountains, and before them were gentle, rolling hillsand open forest. The country steadily grew more fertile, and often gamesprang up from the way, showing th
at man trod there but little. The daywas of unrivaled beauty, a cloudless blue sky overhead, green grass underfoot, and a warm, gentle wind always blowing from the south. How coulddanger be threatening under such a smiling guise? But the "eyes" of thetrain, which nothing escaped, the five who watched on every side, saw theIndian sign again and again, and always their faces were grave.
"The train carries many brave men," said Henry, "but it will need everyone of them."
"Yes," said Tom Ross; "an' ef the women, too, kin shoot, so much thebetter."
That night they encamped again in one of the openings so numerousthroughout the country, and, as before, they fortified; but the women andchildren were getting over their fear. They were too strong. The Indianswould not dare to attack a train defended by three hundred marksmen--twohundred and fifty men and at least fifty women who could and would shootwell. So their voices were no longer subdued, and jest and laughter passedwithin the circle of the wagons.
Paul remained by one of the fires, Henry and Shif'less Sol suggesting thathe do so because he was already a huge favorite with everybody. He wassitting comfortably before the coals, leaning against a wagon wheel, andat least a score of little boys and girls were gathered about him. Theywanted to know about the great wilderness, and the fights of himself andhis comrades with the red warriors. Paul, though modest, had the gift ofvivid narrative. He described Wareville, that snug nest there in theforest, and the great battle before its wooden walls; how the women, ledby a girl, had gone forth for water; how the savages had been beaten off,and the dreadful combat afterward in the forest through the darkness andthe rain. He told how he had been struck down by a bullet, only to becarried off and saved by his comrade, Henry Ware--the bravest, the mostskillful, and the strongest hunter, scout, and warrior in all the West.Then he told them something of their life in the winter just closed,although he kept the secret of the haunted island, which was to remain theproperty of his comrades and himself.
The children hung upon his words. They liked this boy with the brillianteyes, the vivid imagination, and the wonderful gift of narrative, thatcould make everything he told pass before their very eyes.
"And now that's enough," said Paul at last. "You must all go to sleep, asyou are to start on your journey again early in the morning. Now, off withyou, every one of you!"
He rose, despite their protests, this prince of story tellers, and,bidding them good-night, strolled with affected carelessness outside thecircle of wagons. The night was dark, like the one preceding, but theriflemen were on guard within the shadows of the wagons.
"Do you see anything?" Paul asked of one.
"Nothing but the forest," he replied.
Paul strolled farther, and saw a dark figure among the trees. As heapproached he recognized Shif'less Sol.
"Any news, Sol?" he asked.
"Yes," replied the shiftless one, "we've crossed trails of bands threetimes, but the main force ain't come up yet. I guess it means to wait alittle, Paul. I'm awful glad we've come to help out these poor women an'children."
"So am I," said Paul, glancing at the black forest. "They've got to gothrough a terrible thing, Sol."
"Yes, an' it's comin' fast," said the shiftless one.
But nothing happened that night, at least so far as the camp wasconcerned. The sentinels walked up and down outside, and were notdisturbed. The women and children slept peacefully in the wagons, or intheir blankets before the fires, and the clear dawn came, silver at firstand then gold under a sky of blue.
The "eyes" of the train had come in as before, and taken their nap, andnow were up and watching once more. Breakfast over, the drivers swungtheir whips, called cheerfully to their horses, and the wagons, again inthree close files, resumed the march.
"We'll strike the ford about noon to-day," said Dick Salter to Daniel Poe.
"I wish we were safely on the other side," said Daniel Poe, in the exactwords of the day before.
"So do I," repeated Dick Salter.
The wagons moved forward undisturbed, their wheels rolling easily over thesoft turf, and some of the women, forgetting their alarms, softly sangsongs of their old homes in the East. The children, eager to seeeverything in this mighty, unknown land, called to each other; but all thetime, as they marched through the pleasant greenwood, danger was comingcloser and closer.