CHAPTER XVII. THE DESERTED CABIN
When the last soldier had disappeared among the trees, Henry turned tothe others. "Well, boys," he asked, "what are you thinking about?"
"I?" asked Paul. "I'm thinking about a certain place I know, a sort ofalcove or hole in a cliff above a lake."
"An' me?" said Shif'less Sol. "I'm thinkin' how fur that alcove runsback, an' how it could be fitted up with furs an' made warm fur thewinter."
"Me?" said Tom Ross. "I'm thinkin' what a snug place that alcove wouldbe when the snow an' hail were drivin' down the creek in front of you."
"An' ez fur me," said Long Jim Hart, "I wuz thinkin' I could run a sortuv flue from the back part uv that alcove out through the front an' letthe smoke pass out. I could cook all right. It wouldn't be ez good aplace fur cookin' ez the one we hed that time we spent the winter on theisland in the lake, but 'twould serve."
"It's strange," said Henry, "but I've been thinking of all the thingsthat all four of you have been thinking about, and, since we are agreed,we are bound to go straight to 'The Alcove' and pass the winter there."
Without another word he led the way, and the others followed. It wasapparent to everyone that they must soon find a winter base, becausethe cold had increased greatly in the last few days. The last leaveshad fallen from the trees, and a searching wind howled among the barebranches. Better shelter than blankets would soon be needed.
On their way they passed Oghwaga, a mass of blackened ruins, among whichwolves howled, the same spectacle that Wyoming now afforded, althoughOghwaga had not been stained by blood.
It was a long journey to "The Alcove," but they did not hurry, seeing noneed of it, although they were warned of the wisdom of their decision bythe fact that the cold was increasing. The country in which the lake wassituated lay high, and, as all of them were quite sure that the coldwas going to be great there, they thought it wise to make preparationsagainst it, which they discussed as they walked in, leisurely fashionthrough the woods. They spoke, also, of greater things. All felt thatthey had been drawn into a mightier current than any in which they hadswam before. They fully appreciated the importance to the Revolutionof this great rearguard struggle, and at present they did not have theremotest idea of returning to Kentucky under any circumstances.
"We've got to fight it out with Braxton Wyatt and the Iroquois," saidHenry. "I've heard that Braxton is organizing a band of Tories of hisown, and that he is likely to be as dangerous as either of the Butlers."
"Some day we'll end him for good an' all," said Shif'less Sol.
It was four or five days before they reached their alcove, and now allthe forest was bare and apparently lifeless. They came down the creek,and found their boat unharmed and untouched still among the foliage atthe base of the cliff.
"That's one thing safe," said Long Jim, "an' I guess we'll find 'TheAlcove' all right, too."
"Unless a wild animal has taken up its abode there," said Paul.
"'Tain't likely," replied Long Jim. "We've left the human smell thar,an' even after all this time it's likely to drive away any prowlin' bearor panther that pokes his nose in."
Long Jim was quite right. Their snug nest, like that of a squirrel inthe side of a tree, had not been disturbed. The skins which theyhad rolled up tightly and placed on the higher shelves of stone wereuntouched, and several days' hunting increased the supply. The huntingwas singularly easy, and, although the five did not know it, thequantity of game was much greater in that region than it had beenfor years. It had been swept of human beings by the Iroquois and Toryhordes, and deer, bear, and panther seemed to know instinctively thatthe woods were once more safe for them.
In their hunting they came upon the ruins of charred houses, and morethan once they saw something among the coals that caused them to turnaway with a shudder. At every place where man had made a little openingthe wilderness was quickly reclaiming its own again. Next year the grassand the foliage would cover up the coals and the hideous relics that layamong them.
They jerked great quantities of venison on the trees on the cliff side,and stored it in "The Alcove." They also cured some bear meat, and,having added a further lining of skins, they felt prepared for winter.They had also added to the comfort of the place. They had taken theprecaution of bringing with them two axes, and with the heads of thesethey smoothed out more of the rough places on the floor and sides of"The Alcove." They thought it likely, too, that they would need the axesin other ways later on.
Only once during these arrangements did they pass the trail of Indians,and that was made by a party of about twenty, at least ten miles from"The Alcove." They seemed to be traveling north, and the five made noinvestigations. Somewhat later they met a white runner in the forest,and he told them of the terrible massacre of Cherry Valley. WalterButler, emulating his father's exploit at Wyoming, had come down with amixed horde of Iroquois, Tories, British, and Canadians. He had notbeen wholly successful, but he had slaughtered half a hundred women andchildren, and was now returning northward with prisoners. Some said,according to the runner, that Thayendanegea had led the Indians on thisoccasion, but, as the five learned later, he had not come up until themassacre was over. The runner added another piece of information thatinterested them deeply. Butler had been accompanied to Cherry Valley bya young Tory or renegade named Wyatt, who had distinguished himself bycunning and cruelty. It was said that Wyatt had built up for himself asemi-independent command, and was becoming a great scourge.
"That's our Braxton," said Henry. "He is rising to his opportunities. Heis likely to become fully the equal of Walter Butler."
But they could do nothing at present to find Wyatt, and they wentsomewhat sadly back to "The Alcove." They had learned also from therunner that Wyatt had a lieutenant, a Tory named Coleman, and this factincreased their belief that Wyatt was undertaking to operate on a largescale.
"We may get a chance at him anyhow," said Henry. "He and his band may gotoo far away from the main body of the Indians and Tories, and in thatcase we can strike a blow if we are watchful."
Every one of the five, although none of them knew it, received anadditional impulse from this news about Braxton Wyatt. He had grown upwith them. Loyalty to the king had nothing to do with his becoming arenegade or a Tory; he could not plead lost lands or exile for takingpart in such massacres as Wyoming or Cherry Valley, but, long since anally of the Indians, he was now at the head of a Tory band that murderedand burned from sheer pleasure.
"Some day we'll get him, as shore as the sun rises an' sets," saidShif'less Sol, repeating Henry's prediction.
But for the present they "holed up," and now their foresight wasjustified. To such as they, used to the hardships of forest life, "TheAlcove" was a cheery nest. From its door they watched the wild fowlstreaming south, pigeons, ducks, and others outlined against the dark,wintry skies. So numerous were these flocks that there was scarcely atime when they did not see one passing toward the warm South.
Shif'less Sol and Paul sat together watching a great flock of wildgeese, arrow shaped, and flying at almost incredible speed. A fewfaint honks came to them, and then the geese grew misty on the horizon.Shif'less Sol followed them with serious eyes.
"Do you ever think, Paul," he said, "that we human bein's ain't somighty pow'ful ez we think we are. We kin walk on the groun', an' byhard learnin' an' hard work we kin paddle through the water a little.But jest look at them geese flyin' a mile high, right over everything,rivers, forests any mountains, makin' a hundred miles an hour, almostwithout flappin' a wing. Then they kin come down on the water an' floatfur hours without bein' tired, an' they kin waddle along on the groun',too. Did you ever hear of any men who had so many 'complishments? Why,Paul, s'pose you an' me could grow wings all at once, an' go through theair a mile a minute fur a month an' never git tired."
"We'd certainly see some great sights," said Paul, "but do you know,Sol, what would be the first thing I'd do if I had the gift of tirelesswings?"
"Fly off to them other
continents I've heard you tell about."
"No, I'd swoop along over the forests up here until I picked out all thecamps of the Indians and Tories. I'd pick out the Butlers and BraxtonWyatt and Coleman, and see what mischief they were planning. Then I'dfly away to the East and look down at all the armies, ours in buff andblue, and the British redcoats. I'd look into the face of our greatcommander-in-chief. Then I'd fly away back into the West and South, andI'd hover over Wareville. I'd see our own people, every last little oneof them. They might take a shot at me, not knowing who I was, but I'dbe so high up in the air no bullet could reach me. Then I'd come soaringback here to you fellows."
"That would shorely be a grand trip, Paul," said Shif'less Sol, "an' Iwouldn't mind takin' it in myself. But fur the present we'd better busyour minds with the warnin's the wild fowl are givin' us, though we'rewell fixed fur a house already. It's cu'rus what good homes a handy mankin find in the wilderness."
The predictions of the wild fowl were true. A few days later heavyclouds rolled up in the southwest, and the five watched them, knowingwhat they would bring them. They spread to the zenith and then to theother horizon, clothing the whole circle of the earth. The great flakesbegan to drop down, slowly at first, then faster. Soon all the treeswere covered with white, and everything else, too, except the darksurface of the lake, which received the flakes into its bosom as theyfell.
It snowed all that day and most of the next, until it lay about two feeton the ground. After that it turned intensely cold, the surface of thesnow froze, and ice, nearly a foot thick, covered the lake. It was notpossible to travel under such circumstances without artificial help, andnow Tom Ross, who had once hunted in the far North, came to their help.He showed them how to make snowshoes, and, although all learned to usethem, Henry, with his great strength and peculiar skill, became by farthe most expert.
As the snow with its frozen surface lay on the ground for weeks, Henrytook many long journeys on the snowshoes. Sometimes be hunted, butoftener his role was that of scout. He cautioned his friends that hemight be out-three or four days at a time, and that they need take noalarm about him unless his absence became extremely long. The winterdeepened, the snow melted, and another and greater storm came, freezingthe surface, again making the snowshoes necessary. Henry decided now totake a scout alone to the northward, and, as the others bad long sincegrown into the habit of accepting his decisions almost without question,he started at once. He was well equipped with his rifle, double barreledpistol, hatchet, and knife, and he carried in addition a heavy blanketand some jerked venison. He put on his snowshoes at the foot of thecliff, waved a farewell to the four heads thrust from "The Alcove"above, and struck out on the smooth, icy surface of the creek. From thishe presently passed into the woods, and for a long time pursued a coursealmost due north.
It was no vague theory that had drawn Henry forth. In one of hisjourneyings be had met a hunter who told him of a band of Tories andIndians encamped toward the north, and he had an idea that it was theparty led by Braxton Wyatt. Now he meant to see.
His information was very indefinite, and he began to discover signs muchearlier than he had expected. Before the end of the first day he saw thetraces of other snowshoe runners on the icy snow, and once he came to aplace where a deer had been slain and dressed. Then he came to anotherwhere the snow had been hollowed out under some pines to make a sleepingplace for several men. Clearly he was in the land of the enemy again,and a large and hostile camp might be somewhere near.
Henry felt a thrill of joy when he saw these indications. All theprimitive instincts leaped up within him. A child of the forest and ofelemental conditions, the warlike instinct was strong within him. Hewas tired of hunting wild animals, and now there was promise of a' moredangerous foe. For the purposes that he had in view he was glad thathe was alone. The wintry forest, with its two feet of snow covered withice, contained no terrors for him. He moved on his snowshoes almost likea skater, and with all the dexterity of an Indian of the far North, whois practically born on such shoes.
As he stood upon the brow of a little hill, elevated upon his snowshoes,he was, indeed, a wonderful figure. The added height and the white glarefrom the ice made him tower like a great giant. He was clad completelyin soft, warm deerskin, his hands were gloved in the same material,and the fur cap was drawn tightly about his head and ears. Theslender-barreled rifle lay across his shoulder, and the blanket and deermeat made a light package on his back. Only his face was uncovered, andthat was rosy with the sharp but bracing cold. But the resolute blueeyes seemed to have grown more resolute in the last six months, and thefirm jaw was firmer than ever.
It was a steely blue sky, clear, hard, and cold, fitted to the earthof snow and ice that it inclosed. His eyes traveled the circle of thehorizon three times, and at the end of the third circle he made out adim, dark thread against that sheet of blue steel. It was the light of acamp fire, and that camp fire must belong to an enemy. It was not likelythat anybody else would be sending forth such a signal in this wintrywilderness.
Henry judged that the fire was several miles away, and apparently in asmall valley hemmed in by hills of moderate height. He made up his mindthat the band of Braxton Wyatt was there, and he intended to make athorough scout about it. He advanced until the smoke line became muchthicker and broader, and then he stopped in the densest clump of bushesthat he could find. He meant to remain there until darkness came,because, with all foliage gone from the forest, it would be impossibleto examine the hostile camp by day. The bushes, despite the lack ofleaves, were so dense that they hid him well, and, breaking through thecrust of ice, he dug a hole. Then, having taken off his snowshoes andwrapped his blanket about his body, he thrust himself into the holeexactly like a rabbit in its burrow. He laid his shoes on the crust ofice beside him. Of course, if found there by a large party of warriorson snowshoes he would have no chance to flee, but he was willing to takewhat seemed to him a small risk. The dark would not be long in coming,and it was snug and warm in the hole. As he sat, his head rose justabove the surrounding ice, but his rifle barrel rose much higher. He atea little venison for supper, and the weariness in the ankles that comesfrom long traveling on snowshoes disappeared.
He could not see outside the bushes, but he listened with thoseuncommonly keen ears of his. No sound at all came. There was not evena wind to rustle the bare boughs. The sun hung a huge red globe in thewest, and all that side of the earth was tinged with a red glare, wintryand cold despite its redness. Then, as the earth turned, the sun waslost behind it, and the cold dark came.
Henry found it so comfortable in his burrow that all his muscles weresoothed, and he grew sleepy. It would have been very pleasant to dozethere, but he brought himself round with an effort of the will, andbecame as wide awake as ever. He was eager to be off on his expedition,but he knew how much depended on waiting, and he waited. One hour, twohours, three hours, four hours, still and dark, passed in the forestbefore he roused himself from his covert. Then, warm, strong, andtempered like steel for his purpose, he put on his snowshoes, andadvanced toward the point from which the column of smoke had risen.
He had never been more cautious and wary than he was now. He was aformidable figure in the darkness, crouched forward, and moving likesome spirit of the wilderness, half walking, half gliding.
Although the night had come out rather clear, with many cold starstwinkling in the blue, the line of smoke was no longer visible. ButHenry did not expect it to be, nor did he need it. He had marked itsbase too clearly in his mind to make any mistake, and he advanced withcertainty. He came presently into an open space, and he stopped withamazement. Around him were the stumps of a clearing made recently, andnear him were some yards of rough rail fence.
He crouched against the fence, and saw on the far side of the clearingthe dim outlines of several buildings, from the chimneys of two ofwhich smoke was rising. It was his first thought that he had come upona little settlement still held by daring borderers, but second thoughttold him t
hat it was impossible. Another and more comprehensive lookshowed many signs of ruin. He saw remains of several burned houses, butclothing all was the atmosphere of desolation and decay that tellswhen a place is abandoned. The two threads of smoke did not alter thisimpression.
Henry divined it all. The builders of this tiny village in thewilderness bad been massacred or driven away. A part of the houses hadbeen destroyed, some were left standing, and now there were visitors. Headvanced without noise, keeping behind the rail fence, and approachingone of the houses from the chimneys of which the smoke came. Here becrouched a long time, looking and listening attentively; but it seemedthat the visitors had no fears. Why should they, when there was nothingthat they need fear in this frozen wilderness?
Henry stole a little nearer. It had been a snug, trim little settlement.Perhaps twenty-five or thirty people had lived there, literally hewinga home out of the forest. His heart throbbed with a fierce hatred and,anger against those who had spoiled all this, and his gloved fingercrept to the hammer of his rifle.
The night was intensely cold. The mercury was far below zero, and a windthat had begun to rise cut like the edge of a knife. Even the wariest ofIndians in such desolate weather might fail to keep a watch. But Henrydid not suffer. The fur cap was drawn farther over chin and ears, andthe buckskin gloves kept his fingers warm and flexible. Besides, hisblood was uncommonly hot in his veins.
His comprehensive eye told him that, while some of the buildings had notbeen destroyed, they were so ravaged and damaged that they could neverbe used again, save as a passing shelter, just as they were being usednow. He slid cautiously about the desolate place. He crossed a brook,frozen almost solidly in its bed, and he saw two or three large moundsthat had been haystacks, now covered with snow.
Then he slid without noise back to the nearest of the houses from whichthe smoke came. It was rather more pretentious than the others, built ofplanks instead of logs, and with shingles for a roof. The remains of asmall portico formed the approach to the front door. Henry supposed thatthe house had been set on fire and that perhaps a heavy rain had saved apart of it.
A bar of light falling across the snow attracted his attention. He knewthat it was the glow of a fire within coming through a window. A faintsound of voices reached his ears, and he moved forward slowly to thewindow. It was an oaken shutter originally fastened with a leatherstrap, but the strap was gone, and now some one had tied it, though nottightly, with a deer tendon. The crack between shutter and wall was atleast three inches, and Henry could see within very well.
He pressed his side tightly to the wall and put his eyes to the crevice.What he saw within did not still any of those primitive feelings thathad risen so strongly in his breast.
A great fire had been built in the log fireplace, but it was burningsomewhat low now, having reached that mellow period of least cracklingand greatest heat. The huge bed of coals threw a mass of varied andglowing colors across the floor. Large holes had been burned in the sideof the room by the original fire, but Indian blankets had been fastenedtightly over them.
In front of the fire sat Braxton Wyatt in a Loyalist uniform, athree-cornered hat cocked proudly on his head, and a small sword by hisside. He had grown heavier, and Henry saw that the face had increasedmuch in coarseness and cruelty. It had also increased in satisfaction.He was a great man now, as he saw great men, and both face and figureradiated gratification and pride as he lolled before the fire. At theother corner, sitting upon the floor and also in a Loyalist uniform,was his lieutenant, Levi Coleman, older, heavier, and with a short,uncommonly muscular figure. His face was dark and cruel, with small eyesset close together. A half dozen other white men and more than a dozenIndians were in the room. All these lay upon their blankets on thefloor, because all the furniture had been destroyed. Yet they hadeaten, and they lay there content in the soothing glow of the fire, likeanimals that had fed well. Henry was so near that he could hear everyword anyone spoke.
"It was well that the Indians led us to this place, eh, Levi?" saidWyatt.
"I'm glad the fire spared a part of it," said Coleman. "Looks as if itwas done just for us, to give us a shelter some cold winter night whenwe come along. I guess the Iroquois Aieroski is watching over us."
Wyatt laughed.
"You're a man that I like, Levi," he said. "You can see to the inside ofthings. It would be a good idea to use this place as a base and shelter,and make a raid on some of the settlements east of the hills, eh, Levi?"
"It could be done," said Coleman. "But just listen to that wind, willyou! On a night like this it must cut like a saber's edge. Even ourIroquois are glad to be under a roof."
Henry still gazed in at the crack with eyes that were lighted up by anangry fire. So here was more talk of destruction and slaughter! His gazealighted upon an Indian who sat in a corner engaged upon a task. Henrylooked more closely, and saw that he was stretching a blonde-hairedscalp over a small hoop. A shudder shook his whole frame. Only those wholived amid such scenes could understand the intensity of his feelings.He felt, too, a bitter sense of injustice. The doers of these deeds werehere in warmth and comfort, while the innocent were dead or fugitives.He turned away from the window, stepping gently upon the snowshoes. Heinferred that the remainder of Wyatt's band were quartered in the otherhouse from which he had seen the smoke rising. It was about twenty rodsaway, but he did not examine it, because a great idea had been bornsuddenly in his brain. The attempt to fulfill the idea would beaccompanied by extreme danger, but he did not hesitate a moment. Hestole gently to one of the half-fallen outhouses and went inside. Herehe found what he wanted, a large pine shelf that had been sheltered fromrain and that was perfectly dry. He scraped off a large quantity of thedry pine until it formed almost a dust, and he did not cease until hehad filled his cap with it. Then he cut off large splinters, untilhe had accumulated a great number, and after that he gathered smallerpieces of half-burned pine.
He was fully two hours doing this work, and the night advanced far, buthe never faltered. His head was bare, but he was protected from thewind by a fragment of the outhouse wall. Every two or three minutes hestopped and listened for the sound of a creaking, sliding footstep onthe snow, but, never hearing any, he always resumed his work with thesame concentration. All the while the wind rose and moaned through theruins of the little village. When Henry chanced to raise his head abovethe sheltering wall, it was like the slash of a knife across his cheek.
Finally he took half of the pine dust in his cap and a lot of thesplinters under his arm, and stole back to the house from which thelight had shone. He looked again through the crevice at the window. Thelight had died down much more, and both Wyatt and Coleman were asleep onthe floor. But several of the Iroquois were awake, although they sat assilent and motionless as stones against the wall.
Henry moved from the window and selected a sheltered spot beside theplank wall. There he put the pine dust in a little heap on the snowand covered it over with pine splinters, on top of which he put largerpieces of pine. Then he went back for the remainder of the pine dust,and built a similar pyramid against a sheltered side of the secondhouse.
The most delicate part of his task had now come, one that good fortuneonly could aid him in achieving, but the brave youth, his heart aflamewith righteous anger against those inside, still pursued the work. Hisheart throbbed, but hand and eye were steady.
Now came the kindly stroke of fortune for which he had hoped. The windrose much higher and roared harder against the house. It would preventthe Iroquois within, keen of ear as they were, from hearing a lightsound without. Then he drew forth his flint and steel and struck themtogether with a hand so strong and swift that sparks quickly leapedforth and set fire to the pine tinder. Henry paused only long enough tosee the flame spread to the splinters, and then he ran rapidly to theother house, where the task was repeated-he intended that his job shouldbe thorough.
Pursuing this resolve to make his task complete, he came back to thefirst house and looked at
his fire. It had already spread to the largerpieces of pine, and it could not go out now. The sound made by theflames blended exactly with the roaring of the wind, and another minuteor two might pass before the Iroquois detected it.
Now his heart throbbed again, and exultation was mingled with his anger.By the time the Iroquois were aroused to the danger the flames would beso high that the wind would reach them. Then no one could put them out.
It might have been safer for him to flee deep into the forest at once,but that lingering desire to make his task complete and, also, the wishto see the result kept him from doing it. He merely walked across theopen space and stood behind a tree at the edge of the forest.
Braxton Wyatt and his Tories and Iroquois were very warm, very snug, inthe shelter of the old house with the great bed of coals before them.They may even have been dreaming peaceful and beautiful dreams, whensuddenly an Iroquois sprang to his feet and uttered a cry that awoke allthe rest.
"I smell smoke!" he exclaimed in his tongue, "and there is fire, too! Ihear it crackle outside!"
Braxton Wyatt ran to the window and jerked it open. Flame and smoke blewin his face. He uttered an angry cry, and snatched at the pistol in hisbelt.
"The whole side of the house is on fire!" he exclaimed. "Whose neglecthas done this?"
Coleman, shrewd and observing, was at his elbow.
"The fire was set on the outside," he said. "It was no carelessness ofour men. Some enemy has done this!"
"It is true!" exclaimed Wyatt furiously. "Out, everybody! The houseburns fast!"
There was a rush for the door. Already ashes and cinders were fallingabout their heads. Flames leaped high, were caught by the roaring winds,and roared with them. The shell of the house would soon be gone, andwhen Tories and Iroquois were outside they saw the remainder of theirband pouring forth from the other house, which was also in flames.
No means of theirs could stop so great a fire, and they stood in a sortof stupefaction, watching it as it was fanned to greatest heights by thewind.
All the remaining outbuildings caught, also, and in a few momentsnothing whatever would be left of the tiny village. Braxton Wyatt andhis band must lie in the icy wilderness, and they could never use thisplace as a basis for attack upon settlements.
"How under the sun could it have happened?" exclaimed Wyatt.
"It didn't happen. It was done," said Coleman. "Somebody set thesehouses on fire while we slept within. Hark to that!"
An Iroquois some distance from the houses was bending over the snowwhere it was not yet melted by the heat. He saw there the track ofsnowshoes, and suddenly, looking toward the forest, whither they led, hesaw a dark figure flit away among the trees.