CHAPTER IX
THE GATHERING OF THE FIVE
As the report of his shot sped in echoes through the forest, Henry Waresprang to his feet and stood there for a little space, his knees weakunder him, and drops of perspiration thick on his face. The rifle wasclenched in his hands, and a light smoke came from the muzzle.
Thus he stood, not yet willing to turn around and see, but when the lastecho of the shot was gone there was no sound. The wind had ceased toblow. Not a leaf, not a blade of grass stirred. He was affected as hehad never been in battle, because he knew that a man whose shadow alonehe had seen lay dead behind him.
He shifted the rifle to one hand only, and wiped his face with theother. Then, as his knees grew stronger and he was able to control theextraordinary quivering of the nerves, he turned. The warrior, the redspot upon his forehead, lay stretched upon his back. He had died withouta sound, as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. The handle ofthe tomahawk was still clutched in his fingers, but his rifle had fallenbeside him. The single minute that he had paused to exult over the foewho seemed so completely in his power had been fatal.
Henry took the powder and bullets from the fallen warrior and added themto his own store--the bullets he found would fit his rifle--but he didnot wish to burden himself with the extra rifle, knife, and tomahawk.Nor did he wish to abandon them. Their value was too great in thewilderness. He chose a middle course. He thrust all three in a hollowtree that he found about a mile further on. They were so well hidden inthe trunk that there was not one chance in a million of anybody buthimself ever finding them.
"I may need you again some day," he murmured to the inanimate weapons,"and if so you'll be here waiting for me."
He noted well the locality, the trees, and the lay of the land.Everything was photographed on his memory and would remain there untilsuch time as he needed the use of the picture. Then he continued hisadvance, at the long easy walk that he had learned from thefrontiersmen, and soon his shaken nerves were restored.
He began to calculate now how far he might be from the Ohio, and, as hewas traveling more east than south, he reckoned that it would be severaldays before he reached the mouth of the Licking. But he felt assuredthat he would reach it, despite the dangers that were still thick abouthim. In the afternoon he saw smoke on the horizon, and, going at once toascertain its cause, he found a small Shawnee village in a cozy valley.He saw signs of preparation among the warriors in it, and he divinedthat they, too, were destined for the "landing place" on the Ohio,opposite the mouth of the Licking.
He left the village after the cursory look and plunged again into theunbroken wilderness. Two or three hours later he decided that he wasbeing followed. He had not seen or heard anything, but it was a sort ofdivination. He sought to throw it aside, telling himself that it wasmere foolishness, but he could not do it. The thought stayed with him,and then he knew that it must be true.
He cared little for a single warrior, but he did not wish to be delayed.He increased his speed, but the sense of being followed did not depart.He was not alarmed, but he was annoyed intensely. He had alreadyencountered two warriors, triumphing each time, and it seemed to himthat he ought now to be let alone.
He made a complete circle, coming back on his own tracks in order toconvince himself absolutely that he was or was not followed, and hefound a few traces in the soft earth to show him that his sixth sensehad not warned him in vain. There moccasins had passed, and the owner ofthem was undoubtedly pursuing Henry. For what else but his life?
It was hard necessity, but he resolved to have it out with this warriorwho trailed him so relentlessly. Night was coming on, and he must sleepand rest, but he could not do so with an enemy so near. Hence he nowdropped the role of the pursued, and became the pursuer.
It was a difficult task, but an occasional trace in the earth helpedhim, and he followed unerringly. So intent was he upon his object thathe did not notice for some time that he was still traveling in a circle,and that his mysterious foe was doing the same. They were going aroundand around. Both were pursuers and both pursued.
Henry's annoyance increased. He had never been irritated so much beforein his life. He could not continue forever with this business and lethis mission go. Moreover, night was now much nearer. The western worldwas already sinking into darkness, and the twilight would soon reachhim. He wished to deal with his enemy, while it was yet light enough tosee.
He turned directly about on his own trail and, after advancing a little,lay hidden in the bushes. The warrior, unless uncommonly wary, wouldsoon come in sight. But he did not come. Henry was not able either tosee or hear a sign of him. The bushes were tinged with the reddish lightof the setting sun, but they moved only in the way in which the windblew them. His foe had not come into the trap, and Henry knew now thathe would not come.
He remained a full half hour in his hiding place, and then, turningagain, he tried the other way around the circle. A slight motion in thethicket behind him told that his foe was still there, and he stopped.His annoyance gave way to admiration. This was undoubtedly a greatwarrior who trailed him, a man of courage, the possessor of all forestskill. It must surely be the best of the whole Wyandot tribe. Henry waswilling to give full credit.
But he must deal with such a foe. His safety and perhaps the safety ofmany others depended upon it. He could not shake him off; therefore, hemust fight him, and he summoned all his energy and faculties for thetask.
Now began the forest combat between invisible and noiseless forces, butnone the less deadly because neither could see nor hear his foe. Yeteach knew that the other was always there. It was the slight waving of abush or the flutter of a leaf, stirred by a moccasin, that told thetale.
As the hunt, the deadliest of all hunts, proceeded, each became moreengrossed in it, neglecting no precaution, seeking incessantly someminute advantage. Henry was by nature generous and merciful, but at thistime he did not think of those things. Wilderness necessity did notpermit it.
The reddish tint on trees and bushes faded quite away, the sun was gone,and the night came, riding down on the world like a black horseman, butthe eyes of the two grew used to the dark as it came, and they continuedtheir invisible battle, circling back and forth in the forest.
Henry's admiration for his foe increased. He had never encounteredanother such warrior. Surpassing skill was his. He knew every trick,every device of the forest. Every move that Henry tried he met on equalterms, and, strive as Henry would to see him, he was still unseen.
This singular duel would have exhausted the patience of most men. One orthe other, finding it unbearable, would have exposed himself, but not sothese two. An hour, two hours, passed, and they were still seeking theadvantage. The moon had come out and touched trees and bushes withsilver, but they were still creeping to and fro, seeking a chance for ashot.
It was Henry who secured the first glimpse. He saw for an instant a facein a bush fifty yards away, and at the same moment he fired. But he knewalmost before his finger ceased to pull the trigger that he would miss,and he threw down his head to escape the return shot. He was barely intime. He heard the bullet pass over him, and it seemed to him that itsung a taunting little song as it went by. But he was busy reloading hisrifle as fast as he could, and he knew that his foe was doing the same.
The rifle reloaded, a sudden extraordinary idea leaped up in his brain.It seemed impossible, but the impossible sometimes comes true. It wasthe merest of fleeting glimpses that he had caught of that face, but hiseye was uncommonly quick, and his mind equally retentive.
His mind would not let go of the idea; an impression at first, itquickly became a belief and then a conviction. He was lying on hischest, and, raising his head a little, he emitted the call of thenight-owl, soft, long, and weird. He uttered the cry twice and waited.From the woods fifty yards away came the answering hoot of an owl, once,twice, thrice. Henry gave the cry twice again, and the second reply camefrom the same place, once, twice, thrice.
Henry, w
ithout hesitation, sprang up to his full length, and walkedboldly forward. A second tall figure had risen and was coming to meethim. The moonlight streamed down in a silver shower upon the man who hadstalked him so long, and revealed Shif'less Sol.
"Sol!" exclaimed Henry. "And I shot at you, thinking that you were aWyandot."
"You did not shoot any harder at me than I did at you," said Shif'lessSol, "an' me all the time thinkin' that you wuz one o' them renegades!"
"Thank God we both missed!" said Henry, fervently.
"An' thank God that you're here, an' not tied down back thar in theWyandot village," said Shif'less Sol.
Their hands met in the strong firm clasp of those who have been friendsthrough the utmost dangers.
"It's fine to see you again, Sol," said Henry. "Are the others well?"
"When I last saw 'em," replied the shiftless one.
"Tell me how you ran across my trail and what went before," said Henry,as they sat down on a fallen log together.
"You'll ricolleck," said Shif'less Sol, "that you told us not to huntyou ef you didn't come back, but to go on with the fleet. I reckon itwuz easier fur you to give that advice than for us to keep it. We knowedfrom what the others said that you wuz captured, but we hoped that you'descape. When you didn't come, we agreed right quick among ourselves thatwe had more business huntin' you than we had with that fleet.
"We didn't have much to go by. We guessed thar was a Wyandot villagesomewhar in these parts, an' we hunted fur it. Last night me an' TomRoss saw some Injuns who wuz in camp an' who wuz rather keerless furthem. Some white men wuz with 'em, an' we learned from scraps o' talkthat we could pick up that you had escaped, fur which news we wuzpow'ful glad. We heard, too, that they wuz goin' to the Ohio at themouth o' the Lickin,' whar thar wuz to be a great getherin' o' 'em. Oneor two o' the white men wuz to go on ahead this mornin'. So we let 'emalone an' we spread out so we could find you.
"When I run across your trail afore sundown, I wuz shore it belonged toone o' them renegades I heard called Blackstaffe, and I made up my mindto git him."
"You come mighty near getting the fellow who stood in his place," saidHenry. "I thought I had against me about the best warrior that was everin these woods."
The moonlight disclosed the broad grin and shining teeth of theshiftless one.
"I reckon I ain't been sleepin' on no downy couch myself fur the lasttwo hours," he said. "Henry, what's all this about the getherin' at themouth o' the Lickin'?"
"All the tribes will be there--Wyandots, Shawnees, Miamis, Delawares,Ottawas, and Illinois. I've heard them in council. They mean to begin anew and greater war to drive the whites from their hunting ground. Thefleet will be attacked in great force again, and all the settlementswill have to fight."
"Then," said Shif'less Sol, "we'd better pick up the other fellers, Toman' Saplin' an' Paul, ez soon ez we kin, an' git ahead o' the Indians."
"Where are the others?" asked Henry.
"Off that way lookin' fur you," replied Sol, waving his hand toward thesoutheast. "We scattered so ez to cover ez much ground as we could."
"We must hunt them and use our signal," said Henry, "two hoots of theowl from the first, three from the others, and then the same over againfrom both. It's a mighty good thing we arranged that long ago, or youand I, Sol, might be shooting at each other yet."
"That's so, an' we're likely to need them bullets fur a better use,"rejoined the shiftless one. "Pow'ful good gun you've got thar, Henry.Did the Injuns make you a present o' that before you ran away?"
"It was luck," replied Henry, and he told his story of the fight withthe Wyandot, the fall over the cliff, and his taking of the rifle andthe ammunition.
"That fall wuz luck, maybe," said Shif'less Sol sagely, "but the rest o'it wuz muscles, a sharp eye, quickness, an' good sense. I've noticedthat the people who learn a heap o' things, who are strong and healthy,an' who always listen and look, are them that live the longest in thesewoods."
"You're surely right, Sol," said Henry with great emphasis.
But Henry was in the best of humors. The shiftless one was a power inhimself, as he had proved over and over again, and the two togethercould achieve the impossible. Moreover, the rest of his comrades werenear. He felt that the God of the white man, the Manitou of the red man,had been kind to him, and he was grateful.
"Do you think we ought to try the signal for the others now, Sol?" heasked.
"Not now. I'm shore that they're too fur off to hear. Ef the Injunsheard us signalin' so much they'd come down on us hot-foot."
"Just what I was thinking," said Henry. "Suppose we push on a few miles,wait a while and then send out the cry."
"Good enough," said the shiftless one.
They advanced three or four miles and then stopped in a dense cluster ofhickory saplings, where they waited. Within the thicket they could seeto some distance on either side, while they themselves lay hidden. Herethey talked now and then in low voices, and Shif'less Sol, although hedid not speak of his feelings, was very happy. He had believed all thetime that Henry would escape, but believing is not as good as knowing.
"You shorely had a pow'ful interestin' time in the Wyandot village,Henry," he said, "an' that chief, White Lightning--I've heard o' himafore--'pears to hev been good to you. What did you say his Injun namewuz?"
"Timmendiquas. That means Lightning in Wyandot, and our people havetacked on the word 'white.' He's a great man, Sol, and I think we'regoing to meet him again."
"Looks likely. I don't blame him for puttin' up sech a pow'ful goodfight fur the huntin' grounds, 'though they look to me big enough forall creation. Do you know, Henry, I hev sometimes a kind o' feelin' furthe Injuns. They hev got lots o' good qualities. Besides, ef they'reever wiped out, things will lose a heap o' variety. Life won't be whatit is now. People will know that thar scalps will be whar they belong,right on top o' thar heads, but things will be tame all the time. O'course, it's bad to git into danger, but thar ain't nothin' so joyous ezthe feelin' you hev when you git out o' it."
The night advanced, very clear and pleasantly cool. They had heardoccasional rustlings in the thicket, which they knew were made by thesmaller wild animals, taking a look, perhaps, at those curious guests oftheirs and then scuttling away in fright. Now absolute stillness hadcome. There was no wind. Not a twig moved. It seemed that in thissilence one could hear a leaf if it fell.
Then Henry sent forth the cry, the long, whining hoot of the owl,perfectly imitated, a sound that carries very far in the quiet night.After waiting a moment or two he repeated it, the second cry beingexactly the same in tone and length as the first.
"Now you listen," said Shif'less Sol.
There was another half minute of the absolute silence, and then, from apoint far down under the southeastern horizon came an answering cry. Itwas remote and low, but they heard it distinctly, and they waitedeagerly to see if it would be repeated. It came a second time, and thena third. Henry answered twice, and then the other came thrice. Call andanswer were complete, and no doubt remained.
"I judge that it's Saplin' who answered," ruminated Shif'less Sol. "Healways did hev a hoot that's ez long ez he is, an' them wuz shorelylong."
"I think, too, that it was Long Jim," said Henry, "and he'll comestraight for us. In five minutes I'll send out the cry again, and maybeanother will answer."
When Henry gave the second call the answer came from a point almost dueeast.
"That's Tom," said the shiftless one decisively. "Couldn't mistake it.Didn't that owl hoot sharp and short fur an owl? Jest like Tom Ross.Don't waste any words that he kin help, an' makes them that he has touse ez short ez he kin."
Another five minutes, and Henry gave the third call. The answer camefrom the southwest, and the shiftless one announced instantly that itwas Paul.
"O' course we know it's Paul," he said, "'cause we know that his owl isthe poorest owl among the whole lot o' us, an' I've spent a lot o' time,too, trainin' his hoot. No Injun would ever take Paul's owl to
be a realone."
Henry laughed.
"Paul isn't as good in the woods as we are," he said, "but he knows alot of other things that we don't."
"O' course," said Shif'less Sol, who was very fond of Paul. "It'sshorely a treat to set by the camp fire an' hear him tell aboutA-Killus, an' Homer, an' Virgil, an' Charley-mane, and all the otherfierce old Roman warriors that had sech funny names."
"They'll be here in less than half an hour," said Henry. "So we'd betterleave the thicket, and sit out there under the big trees where they cansee us."
They took comfortable seats on a fallen log under some giant maples, andpresently three figures, emerging from various points, became palpablein the dusk. "Tom," murmured Henry under his breath, "and Jim--andPaul."
The three uttered low cries of joy when they saw the second figuresitting on the log beside that of Shif'less Sol. Then they ran forward,grasped his hands, and wrung them.
"How did you escape, Henry?" exclaimed Paul, his face glowing.
"Shucks! he didn't escape," said Shif'less Sol, calmly. "Henry oweseverything that he is now, includin' o' his life, to me. I wuz scoutin'up by the Wyandot village, an' I captured in the thickets that tharchief they call White Lightnin'--Timmendiquas he told me wuz hishigh-toned Injun name. I took him with my hands, not wishin' to hurt him'cause I had somethin' in mind. Then I said to him: 'Look at me,' an'when he looked he began to tremble so bad that the beads on hismoccasins played ez fine a tune ez I ever heard. 'Is your name Hyde?'said he. 'It is,' said I. 'Solomon Hyde?' said he. 'Yes,' said I. 'Theone they call Shif'less Sol?' said he. 'Yes,' said I. 'Then,' said he,'O great white warrior, I surrender the whole Wyandot village to you atonce.'
"I told him I didn't want the whole Wyandot village ez I wouldn't knowwhat to do with it ef I had it. But I said to him, puttin' on myskeriest manner: 'You've got in your village a prisoner, a white boynamed Henry Ware, a feller that I kinder like. Now you go in that an'send him out to me, an' be mighty quick about it, 'cause ef you don't Imight git mad, an' then I can't tell myself what's goin' to happen.'
"An' do you know, Saplin'," he continued, turning a solemn face upon JimHart, "that they turned Henry over to me out thar in the woods inside o'three minutes. An' ef I do say it myself, they got off pow'ful cheap atthe price, an' I'm not runnin' down Henry, either."
Long Jim Hart, a most matter-of-fact man, stared at the shiftless one.
"Do you know, Sol Hyde," he said indignantly, "that I believe more'nhalf the things you're tellin' are lies!"
Shif'less Sol burst into a laugh.
"I never tell lies, Saplin'," he said. "It's only my gorgeeyus fancyplayin' aroun' the facts an' touchin' 'em up with gold an' silverlights. A hoe cake is nothin' but a hoe cake to Saplin' thar, but to meit's somethin' splendid to look at an' to eat, the support o' life, thecreater o' muscle an' strength an' spirit, a beautiful thing that buildsup gran' specimens o' men like me, somethin' that's wrapped up inpoetry."
"Ef you could just live up to the way you talk, Sol Hyde," said LongJim, "you'd shorely be a pow'ful big man."
"Maybe Indians have heard our calls," said Henry, "and if so, they'llcome to look into the cause of them. Suppose we go on four or five milesand then sleep, all except one, who will watch."
"The right thing to do," said Tom Ross briefly, and they proceeded atonce, Tom leading the way, while Henry and Paul, who followed closebehind, talked in low voices.
A long, lonesome sound came from the north, and then was repeated threeor four times. Henry laughed.
"That's real," he said. "I'd wager anything that if we followed thatsound we'd find a big owl, sitting on a limb, and calling to some friendof his."
"You ain't mistook," said Tom Ross sententiously.
As they walked very fast, it did not take them long to cover the four orfive miles that they wished, and they found a comfortable, well-hiddenplace in a ravine. The darkness also had increased considerably, whichwas good for their purpose, as they were hunting for nobody, and wishednobody to find them.
All save Tom Ross lay down among the bushes and quickly fell asleep. Tomfound an easy seat and watched.