CHAPTER XXIV
THE FEATHERED MESSAGE
"LOOK up there on the roof of the cabin! What can it be?"
It was about a week after the return of the two boys from the Shawaneevillage. During this time they had made several trips into the greatforest, and never failed to bring home game, for there seemed a greatabundance around the new settlement on the Ohio.
The men had used their keen-edged axes well, and the trees were fallingfast. It was even hoped that the small gardens would prove profitable,and that they might have other crops, besides the Indian corn that grewso well in this climate.
The brief visit of Daniel Boone and his comrades had had one naturaleffect upon the two brothers. They began to copy the frontiersman styleof dress, as the best fitted for the life they expected to lead fromthis time forward.
Moccasins they had already; but now their mother was called upon tofashion for her boys hunting tunics of tanned buckskin, which in turnwere fringed, as had been those worn by Kenton and the others. Besides,covering for their legs was made from the same material, and appearedsimilarly decorated.
Bob had made a cap for himself out of the well-tanned skins of severalraccoons he had trapped, with one of the beautifully marked tailsdangling down the back, like that of his hero, Simon Kenton.
Sandy, on his part, had done the same with some skins of graysquirrels, also using the bushy tails to complete the adornment, sothat together the Armstrong boys presented a hunter-like appearance bythe time these various additions to their wardrobe were completed.
When they appeared in these new outfits both lads felt that they couldnow begin to call themselves pioneers in earnest.
On this particular day Bob and Sandy had planned a delightful trip upthe river in their canoe, seeking new fields for hunting; and lookinginto the possibilities of the region for the trapping season, thatwould begin when the leaves were dropping from the trees in October.
It was Sandy who had given utterance to the exclamation with which thischapter opens. Bob had followed him out of the cabin. The sun was justpeeping above the wooded hills away off in the east, and they sniffedthe early morning air with delight; but one who could read the signsof the weather might have seen something about the coppery hue of thatrising orb that showed that the long delayed Spring rains would soonburst upon the country.
Seeing where Sandy was pointing, Bob also looked, and his surpriseexceeded that of his younger brother when he saw the object that wassticking in the middle of the sloping roof.
"Why, it is a feathered Indian arrow!" he cried.
"How strange! And what can that be tied to it, Bob?" asked the other.
"Here, boost me up and I will get it; then we can tell all about it,"answered Bob, who did not believe in wasting time in talk when thesolution of the mystery was so easy to learn.
So Sandy gave him a hand, and the agile lad quickly gained the lowroof; for the new cabin, while commodious, was only one story high,with a low loft above the living room and just under the roof.
Bob took the arrow from the roof. He seemed to use more or less vigorin order to extract the flint head, showing that it had come down withconsiderable force after its aerial flight.
"Oh! I remember now," said Sandy, suddenly arousing.
"What?" demanded the other, as he prepared to jump to the ground,holding the feathered missile carefully in one hand.
"Why," said Sandy, eagerly, "something seemed to arouse me just aboutdaybreak. It sounded like a stone thrown against the house. But Ithought father was up, and getting the fire ready, so mother could cookbreakfast; and I went to sleep again. Bob, that must have been the timethe arrow dropped on the roof!"
"Yes, that was the time," answered Bob; "for the one who held the bowcould never have seen how to aim in the night, even though there was amoon."
"Aim, do you say, brother? Is it possible then he meant to stick thatarrow in our roof rather than any other?" demanded Sandy, startled.
"I surely do believe it. See, here is a message fastened to the shaftby little threads drawn from the fibre of cane!" and Bob held up thepiece of birch bark, which Sandy now saw contained various rude designspossibly drawn with a sharp-pointed eagle quill, dipped in the juice ofthe poke berry.
"Blue Jacket!" he exclaimed involuntarily, for suddenly he rememberedthat other unique message which the young Shawanee warrior had left, atthe time he had slipped away from the cabin of the Armstrongs.
"Yes, that is the plainest thing of all," remarked Bob, "for you seehere at the end there is what is meant to be the figure of a man, anIndian, too, for he has feathers in his hair; and his jacket is daubedwith a blue stain. But what puzzles me is to read these signs. Come,sit down here. Perhaps two heads may prove better than one, and you arequick at such things."
"Oh! if only Pat O'Mara were here now, how quickly he would read itall," said Sandy, screwing up his forehead as he scanned the severallines of strange figures.
"This must mean the sun, all right," remarked Bob, pointing to thefirst rude representation in the line.
They both turned to look at the king of day as though understandingthat the Indian artist meant to call their attention that way.
"Well," remarked Sandy, "the old fellow does look angry this morning.And then the sky all around has a coppery hue. That must mean more dryweather, brother."
But Bob shook his head. He had seen something more in those queerpicture paintings that caught his attention.
"No, I think you are wrong, Sandy," he observed slowly. "See, here iswhat he surely means for rain pouring down. And further along is whatmust be the river rushing along, bank-full. I begin to see what it is,brother."
"A warning to the white settlers?" said Sandy quickly.
"What else can it mean? And look at this figure standing here; what doyou make of him?" asked the other, pointing.
"Oh! I know!" cried Sandy, his face lighting up. "See how he is deckedout with all sorts of things, bells and such! And in his hands he holdsgourds that contain dried beans, to rattle when he shakes them. Yes,that must be the old medicine man I told you about. But what has he gotto do with the rains?"
"Now I understand it all," declared Bob, with a smile.
"Then I wish you would tell me," remarked his brother, "for to tell thetruth I don't seem able to grasp it."
"The old medicine man has been talking again with the Manitou," saidBob, "and has learned that the rain will soon come along, making aflood of the river. Perhaps he knows this from some sign, like theangry sun; but he pretends that the information was given to him fromthe Great Spirit."
"And Blue Jacket," cried Sandy, "believing all he says, has thought itworth while to come all the way over here, lame as he is, to warn us!That was good of him. He is afraid some of us may be caught napping.But how much better if he had only slipped into the settlement, andtalked with us."
"But Blue Jacket is an Indian, with all the cunning and caution of thered men," Bob replied. "He knows that all palefaces do not think alike;and he feared lest a guard should shoot him on sight. No, I am glad hewas wise. Think how we should grieve if he were killed in our midst."
"But about the warning? Shall you tell father, and have him spread thenews?" asked the younger boy.
"To be sure. It can do no harm, even if it prove to be a false alarm.They will understand the motive that sent Blue Jacket over here again.And, Sandy, perhaps father may want us to give up that long canoe tripwe had planned for to-day."
At that Sandy's face fell.
"Oh! I hope not!" he exclaimed, quickly. "For I have been lookingforward ever so much to exploring that country away to the east, andup the river. Pat told us that on the other shore, above, the game wasthicker than any place he knew. We must get off to-day, brother! Whatif the rain does come, we are neither sugar nor salt, but strong enoughto stand much."
"Well, perhaps father may not think much of the old medicine man'sbelief. And, as you say, surely we are able to take care of ourselves.I am hoping myself
that father may not forbid our going," said Bob.
So Sandy, with an object in view, made it a point, when they toldtheir father of the strange warning sent by their good friend BlueJacket, to speak of the medicine man as a great fraud, who wascertainly not worth considering.
Whether David was influenced by what he said, or really believed thedanger to be over-rated, he did not offer any particular objections tothe boys' expedition.
"Hurrah!" cried Sandy, as they reached the place where the canoe washauled up on the sandy beach. "Now for a jolly paddle up the river, anda visit to that unknown shore over the water, where buffalo and deerare as thick as peas, and asking to be shot."
Bob was not as enthusiastic, although doubtless he, too, anticipatedmore or less pleasure from the excursion. They did not expect to beback that night, unless their plans miscarried; but before another sunhad set they meant to at least be on their way homeward.
Soon they were paddling merrily up the river. There was not a cloudoverhead, and the sun seemed to give promise of exerting unusual warmthfor so early in the season.
"Poor old medicine man," laughed Sandy, as he glanced around at thebright picture, and then thought of the warning message. "So we are tobeware of the river's rising wrath, are we? Seems to be quiet enoughjust now, brother!"
"Yes," was all that Bob replied; for somehow he seemed to have someforeboding of coming trouble, though he did not want to tell Sandy ofthis, lest the light-hearted one laugh at his fears, which after allmight come to nothing.
About noon they crossed to the other shore. Out in the middle of theriver they found that it required considerable muscle to keep the canoefrom losing in the fight with the swiftly gliding, though noiseless,current.
They determined not to land just yet. Sandy remembered how Pat O'Marahad told about a certain wonderful cove further up the stream, wherethey could hide their boat while they hunted. Besides, there was lessdanger of running across any hostiles the further they went in thedirection of Fort Pitt; since after the last great Indian battle thered tribes had retreated westward.
It proved much further than they had been led to believe from what theIrish trapper had said; or else progress against that current wasslower than they had calculated. At any rate, the hour was not far fromsunset when they finally sighted the cove that was to be their landingplace.