CHAPTER XV
THE SIEGE
It was not Lucy Upton alone who felt relief when the attack upon thestockade came, hideous and terrifying though it might be; the suspenseso destructive of nerves and so hard to endure was at an end, and themen rushed gladly to meet the attack, while the women with almost equaljoy reloaded empty rifles with the precious powder made from the cavedust and passed them to the brave defenders. The children, too small totake a part, cowered in the houses and listened to the sounds of battle,the lashing of the rifle fire, the fierce cry of the savages in theforest, and the answering defiance of the white men. Amid such scenes agreat state was founded and who can wonder that its defenders learned toprize bravery first of all things?
The attack was in accordance with the savage nature, a dash, irregularvolleys, shots from ambush, an endeavor to pick off the settlers,whenever a head was shown, but no direct attempt to storm the palisade,for which the Indian is unfitted. A bullet would not reach from theforest, but from little hillocks and slight ridges in the open where abrown breast was pressed close to the earth came the flash of rifles,some hidden by the dusk, but the flame showing in little points of firethat quickly went out. The light of the moon failed somewhat, and thesavages in ambush were able to come nearer, but now and then asharpshooter behind the wall, firing at the flash of the concealedrifle, would hear an answering death cry.
Lucy Upton behind the barricade with other girls and women was reloadingrifles and passing them to her father and Paul Cotter who stood in alittle wooden embrasure like a sally port. For a time the fire of battleburned as fiercely in her veins as in those of any man, but after awhile she began to wonder what had become of Henry Ware, and presentlyfrom some who passed she heard comments upon him again; they found faultwith his absence; he should have been there to take a part in thedefense, and while she admitted that their criticisms bore the color oftruth, she yet believed him to be away for some good purpose.
For two hours the wild battle in the dark went on, to the chorus ofshouts from white man and red, the savages often coming close to thewalls, and seeking to find a shelter under them in the dark, but alwaysdriven back. Then it ceased so suddenly that the intense silence wasmore pregnant with terror than all the noise that had gone before. PaulCotter, looking over the palisade, could see nothing. The forest rose uplike a solid dark wall, and in the opening not a blade of grass stirred;the battle, the savage army, all seemed to have gone like smoke meltinginto the air, and Paul was appalled, feeling that a magic hand hadabruptly swept everything out of existence.
"What do you see?" asked Lucy, upon whose ears the silence too was heavyand painful.
"Nothing but darkness, and what it hides I cannot guess."
A report ran through the village that the savage army, beaten, had gone,and the women, and the men with little experience, gave it currency, butthe veterans rebuked such premature rejoicing; it was their part, theysaid, to watch with more vigilance than ever, and in nowise to relaxtheir readiness.
Then the long hours began and those who could, slept. Braxton Wyatt andhis friends again impeached the credit of Henry Ware, insinuating withsly smiles that he must be a renegade, as he had taken no part in thedefense and must now be with his savage friends. To the slur Paul Cotterfiercely replied that he had warned them of the attack; without him thestation would have been taken by surprise, and that surely proved him tobe no traitor.
The hours between midnight and day not only grew in length, but seemedto increase in number as well, doubling and tripling, as if they wouldnever end for the watchers in the station. The men behind the woodenwalls and some of the women, too, intently searched the forest, seekingto discover movements there, but nothing appeared upon its solid blackscreen. Nor did any sound come from it, save the occasional gentle moanof the wind; there was no crackling of branches, no noise of footsteps,no rattle of arms, but always the heavy silence which seemed so deadly,and which, by its monotony, was so painful to their ears.
Lucy Upton went into her father's house, ate a little and then spreadingover herself a buffalo robe tried to sleep. Slumber was long in coming,for the disturbed nerves refused to settle into peace, and the excitedbrain brought back to her eyes distorted and overcolored visions of thenight's events. But youth and weariness had their way and she slept atlast, to find when she awakened that the dawn was coming in at thewindow, and the east was ablaze with the splendid red and yellow lightof the sun.
"Are they still there?" was her first question when she went forth fromher father's house, and the reply was uncertain; they might or might notbe there; the leaders had not allowed anyone to go out to see, but thenumber who believed that the savages were gone was growing; and alsogrew the number who believed that Henry Ware was gone with them.
Even in the brilliant daylight that sharpened and defined everything aswith the etcher's point, they could see nothing save what had beenbefore the savages came. Their eyes reached now into the forest, but asfar as they ranged it was empty, there was no encampment, not a singlewarrior passed through the undergrowth. It seemed that the grumblerswere right when they said the besieging army was gone.
Lucy Upton was walking toward the palisade where she saw Paul Cotter,when she heard a distant report and Paul's fur cap, pierced by a bullet,flew from his head to the earth. Paul himself stood in amaze, as if hedid not know what had happened, and he did not move until Lucy shoutedto him to drop to the ground. Then he crawled quickly away from theexposed spot, although two or three more bullets struck about him.
The station thrilled once more with excitement, but the new danger wasof a kind that they did not know how to meet. It was evident that thefiring came from a high point, one commanding a view inside the walls,and from marksmen located in such a manner the palisade offered noshelter. Bullets were pattering among the houses, and in the open spacesinclosed by the walls, two men were wounded already, and the threat hadbecome formidable.
Ross and Shif'less Sol, the best of the woodsmen, soon decided that theshots came from a large tree at the edge of the forest northeast fromthe stockade, and they were sure that at least a half-dozen warriorswere lying sheltered among its giant boughs, while they sent searchingbullets into the inclosure. There had been some discussion about thetree at the time the settlement was built, but expert opinion held thatthe Indian weapons could not reach from so great a distance, and as thetask of cutting so huge a trunk when time was needed, seemed too muchthey had left it, and now they saw their grievous and perhaps mortalerror.
The side of the palisade facing the tree was untenable so long as thewarriors held their position, and it was even dangerous to pass from onehouse to another. The terrors of the night, weighty because unknown,were gone, but the day had brought with it a more certain menace thatall could see.
The leaders held a conference on the sheltered side of one of thehouses, and their faces and their talk were full of gloom. Theschoolmaster, Ross and Sol were there, and so were John Ware and Lucy'sfather. The schoolmaster, by nature and training a man of peace, wasperhaps the most courageous of them all.
"It is evident that those savages have procured in some manner a numberof our long-range Kentucky rifles," he said, "but they are no betterthan ours. Nor is it any farther from us to that tree than it is fromthat tree to us. Why can't our best marksmen pick them off?"
He looked with inquiry at Ross and Sol, who shook their heads and abatednot a whit of their gloomy looks.
"They are too well sheltered there," replied Ross, "while we would notbe if we should try to answer them. Our side would get killed while theywouldn't be hurt and we can't spare the men."
"But we must find a way out! We must get rid of them somehow!" exclaimedMr. Ware.
"That's true," said Upton, and as he spoke they heard a bullet thudagainst the wall of the house. From the forest came a wild quaveringyell of triumph, full of the most merciless menace. Mr. Ware and Mr.Upton shuddered. Each had a young daughter, and it was in the minds ofeach to slay her in the
last resort if there should be no other way.
"If those fellows in the tree keep on driving us from the palisade,"said Ross, setting his face in the grim manner of one who forces himselfto tell the truth, "there's nothin' to prevent the main band from makin'an attack, and while the other fellows rain bullets on us they'll beinside the palisade."
They stared at each other in silent despair, and Ross going to thecorner of the house, but keeping himself protected well, looked at thefatal tree. No one was firing, then, and he could see nothing among itsbranches. In the fresh green of its young foliage it looked like a hugecone set upon a giant stem, and Ross shook his fist at it in futileanger. Nor was a foe visible elsewhere. The entire savage army layhidden in the forest and nothing fluttered or moved but the leaves andthe grass.
The others, led by the same interest, followed Ross, and keeping to thesafety of the walls, stole glances at the tree. As they looked theyheard the faint report of a shot and a cry of death, and saw a brownbody shoot down from the green cone of the tree to the ground, where itlay still.
"There is a marksman among us who can beat them at their own trick,"cried the schoolmaster in exultation. "Who did it? Who fired that shot,Tom?"
Ross did not answer. First a look of wonder came upon his face, and thenhe began to study the forest, where all but nature was yet lifeless. Thefaint sound of a second shot came and what followed was a duplicate ofthe sequel to the first. Another brown body shot downward, and laylifeless beside its fellow on the grass.
The master cried out once more in exultation, and wished to know whyothers within the palisade did not imitate the skillful sharpshooter.But Ross shook his head slowly and spoke these slow words:
"A great piece of luck has happened to us, Mr. Pennypacker, an' how it'shappened I don't know, at least not yet. Them shots never come from anyof our men. We've got a friend outside an' he's pickin' off themambushed murderers one by one. The savages think we're doin' it, butthey'll soon find out the difference."
There was a third shot and the tree ejected a third body.
"What wonderful shootin'!" exclaimed Ross in a tone of amazement. "Themshots come from a long distance, but all three of 'em plugged the markto the center. Them savages was dead before they touched the ground. Inever saw the like."
The others waited expectantly, as if he could give them an explanation,but if he had a thought in his mind he kept it to himself.
"There, they've found it out," he said, when a terrific yell full ofanger came from the forest, "but they haven't got him, whoever he is.They'd shout in a different way if they had."
"Why do you say him?" asked Mr. Pennypacker. "Surely a single man hasnot been doing such daring and deadly work!"
"It's one man, because there are not two in all this wilderness who canshoot like that. I'd hate to be in the place of the savages left in thattree."
The wonder of the new and unknown ally soon spread through Wareville,and reached Lucy Upton as it reached others. A thought came to her andshe was about to speak of it, but she stopped, fearing ridicule, andmerely listened to the excited talk going on all about her.
An hour later a fourth Indian was shot from the tree, and less thanfifteen minutes afterwards a fifth fell a victim to the terrible rifle.Then two, the only survivors, dropped from the boughs and ran for theforest. Ross, Sol and Paul Cotter were watching together and saw theflight.
"One of them brown rascals will never reach the woods," said Ross withthe intuition of the borderer.
The foremost savage fell just at the edge of the forest, shot throughthe heart, and the other, the sole survivor of the tree, escaped behindthe sheltering trunks.
The cry of the angry savages swelled into a terrible chorus and bulletsbeat upon the stockade, but the attack was quickly repulsed, and againquiet and treacherous peace settled down upon this little spot, this pinpoint in the mighty wilderness, whose struggle must be carried onunaided, and, in truth, unknown to all the rest of the world.
When the savages were driven back they melted again into the forest, andthe old silence and peace laid hold of everything, the brilliantsunshine gilding every house, and dyeing into deeper colors the glowingtints of the wilderness. The huge tree, so fatal to those who had soughtto use it, stood up, a great green cone, its branches waving softlybefore the wind.
In the little fortress the wonder and excitement yet prevailed, butmingled with it was a devout gratitude for this help from an unknownquarter which had been so timely and so effective. The spirits of thegarrison, from the boldest ranger down to the most timid woman, took asudden upward heave and they felt that they should surely repel everyattack by the savage army.
The remainder of the day passed in silence and with the foe invisible,but the guard at the palisade, now safe from ambushed marksmen, relaxedits vigilance not at all. These men knew that they dealt with an enemywhose uncertainty made him all the more terrible, and they would notleave the issue to shifting chance.
The day waned, the night came, heavy and dark again, and full, as it wasbound to be, of threats and omens for the beleaguered people. Lucy Uptonwith Mary Ware slipped to the little wooden embrasure where Paul Cotterwas on watch.
They found Paul in the sheltered nook, watching the forest and the open,through the holes pierced for rifles, and he did not seek to hide hispleasure at seeing them. Two other men were there, but they weremiddle-aged and married, the fathers of increasing families, and theywere not offended when Paul received a major share of attention.
He told them that all was quiet, his own eyes were keen, but they failedto mark anything unusual, and he believed that the savages, profiting bytheir costly experience, would make no new attempt yet a while. Then hespoke of the mysterious help that had come to them, and the same thoughtwas in his mind and Lucy's, though neither spoke of it. They stood therea while, talking in low tones and looking for excuses to linger, whenone of the older men moved a little and held up a warning hand. He hadjust taken his eyes from a loophole, and he whispered that he thought hehad seen something pass in the shadow of the wall.
All in the embrasure became silent at once, and Lucy, brave as she was,could hear her heart beating. There was a slight noise on the outside ofthe wall, so faint that only keen ears could hear it, and then as theylooked up they saw a hideous, painted face raised above the palisade.
One of the older men threw his rifle to his shoulder, but, quick as aflash, Paul struck his hand away from the trigger. He knew who had come,when he looked into the eyes that looked down at him, though he feltfear, too--he could not deny it--as he met their gaze, so fierce, sowild, so full of the primitive man.
"Don't you see?" he said, "it is Henry! Henry Ware!"
Even then Lucy Upton, intimate friend though she had been, scarcely saw,but laughing a low soft laugh of intense satisfaction, Henry droppedlightly among them. Good excuse had these men for not knowing him as histransformation was complete! He stood before them not a white man, butan Indian warrior, a prince of savages. His hair was drawn up in thedefiant scalp lock, his face bore the war paint in all its variationsand violent contrast of colors, the dark-green hunting shirt andleggings with their beaded decorations were gone, and in their place ared Indian blanket was wrapped around him, drooping in its gracefulfolds like a Roman toga.
His figure, erect in the moonlight, nearly a head above the others, hada certain savage majesty, and they gazed upon him in silence. He seemedto know what they felt and his eyes gleamed with pride out of his darklypainted face. He laughed again a low laugh, not like that of the whiteman, but the almost inaudible chuckle of the Indian.
"It had to be," he said, glancing down at his garb though not withshame. "To do what I wished to do, it was necessary to pass as anIndian, at least between times, and, as all the Shawnees do not knoweach other, this helped."
"It was you who shot the Indians in the tree; I knew it from the first,"said the voice of the guide, Ross, over their shoulders. He had come sosoftly that they did not notice him before.
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br /> Henry did not reply, but laughed again the dry chuckle that made Lucytremble she scarcely knew why, and ran his hand lovingly along theslender barrel of his rifle.
"At least you do not complain of it," he said presently.
"No, we do not," replied Ross, "an' I guess we won't. You saved us,that's sure. I've lived on the border all my life, but I never saw suchshootin' before."
Then Henry gave some details of his work and Lucy Upton, watching himclosely, saw how he had been engrossed by it. Paul Cotter too noticed,and feeling constraint, at least, demanded that Henry doff his savagedisguise, put on white men's clothes and get something to eat.
He consented, though scarce seeing the necessity of it, but kept theIndian blanket close to hand, saying that he would soon need it again.But he was very gentle with his mother telling her that she need have nofear for him, that he knew all the wiles of the savage and more; theycould never catch him and the outside was his place, as then he could beof far more service than if he were merely one of the garrison.
The news of Henry Ware's return was throughout the village in fiveminutes, and with it came the knowledge of his great deed. In the faceof such a solid and valuable fact the vague charge that he was arenegade died. Even Braxton Wyatt did not dare to lift his voice to thateffect again, but, with sly insinuation, he spoke of savages herdingwith savages, and of what might happen some day.
When night came Henry resuming his Indian garb and paint slipped outagain, and so skillful was he that he seemed to melt away like a mist inthe darkness.
The savage army beleaguering the colony now found that it was assailedby a mysterious enemy, one whom all their vigilance and skill could notcatch. They lost warrior after warrior and many of them began to thinkManitou hostile to them, but the leaders persisted with the siege. Theywished to destroy utterly this white vanguard, and they would not returnto their villages, far across the Ohio, until it was done.
They no longer made a direct attack upon the walls, but, forming acomplete circle around, hung about at a convenient distance, waiting andhoping for thirst and famine to help them. The people believedthemselves to have taken good precautions against these twin evils, butnow a terrible misfortune befell them. No rain fell and the well insidethe palisade ran dry. It was John Ware himself who first saw the comingof the danger and he tried to hide it, but it could not, from its verynature, be kept a secret long. The supply for each person was cut downone half and then one fourth, and that too would soon go, unless thewelcome rains came; and the sky was without a cloud. Men who feared nophysical danger saw those whom they loved growing pale and weak beforetheir eyes, and they knew not what to do. It seemed that the place mustfall without a blow from the enemy.