CHAPTER VIII
THE WILD TURKEY'S GOBBLE
Henry had conducted himself so well on his first scout and, had shownsuch signs of efficiency that Ross concluded to take him again the nextday. Henry's heart swelled with pride, and he was no longer worriedabout Paul, because he saw that the latter's interest and ambitions werenot exactly the same as his own. Henry could not have any innate respectfor heaps of "old bones," but if Paul and the master found them worthyof such close attention, they must be right.
Henry and Ross slipped away into the undergrowth, and Henry soon noticedthat the guide's face, which was tense and preoccupied, seemed graverthan usual. The boy was too wise to ask questions, but after they hadsearched through the forest for several hours Ross remarked in the mostcasual way:
"I heard the gobble of a wild turkey away off last night."
"Yes," said Henry, "there are lots of 'em about here. You remember theone I shot Tuesday?"
Ross did not reply just then, but in about five minutes he vouchsafed:
"I'm looking for the particular wild turkey I heard last night."
"Why that one, when there are so many, and how would you know him fromthe others if you found him?" asked Henry quickly, and then a deepburning flush of shame broke through the tan of his cheeks. He, HenryWare, a rover of the wilderness to ask such foolish questions! A childof the towns would have shown as much sense. Ross who was lookingcovertly at him, out of the corner of his eye, saw the mounting blush,and was pleased. The boy had spoken impulsively, but he knew better.
"You understand, I guess," said Ross.
"Yes," replied Henry, "I know why you want to find that wild turkey, andI know why you said last night we ought to leave the salt springs justas soon as we can."
The smile on the face of the scout brightened. Here was the mostpromising pupil who had ever sat at his feet for instruction; and nowthey redoubled their caution, as their soundless bodies slipped throughthe undergrowth. Everywhere they looked for the trail of that wildturkey. It may be said that a turkey can and does fly in the air andleaves no trail, but Henry knew that the one for which they looked mightleave no trail, but it did not fly in the air.
Time passed; noon and part of the afternoon were gone, and they werestill curving in a great circle about the camp, when Ross, suddenlystopped beside a little brook, or branch, as he and his comrades alwayscalled them, and pointed to the soft soil at the edge of the water.Henry followed the long finger and saw the outline of a footstep.
"Our turkey has passed here."
The guide nodded.
"Most likely," he said, "and if not ours, then one of the same flock.But that footprint is three or four hours old. Come on, we'll followthis trail until it grows too warm."
The footsteps led down the side of the brook, and when they curved awayfrom it Ross was able to trace them on the turf and through theundergrowth. A half mile from the start other footsteps joined them, andthese were obviously made by many men, perhaps a score of warriors.
"You see," said Ross, "I guess they've just come across the Ohio or wewouldn't be left all these days b'il'n salt so peaceful, like as ifthere wasn't an Indian in the whole world."
Henry drew a deep breath. Like all who ventured into the West heexpected some day to be exposed to Indian danger and attack, but it hadbeen a vague thought. Even when they came north to the Big Bone Lick itwas still a dim far-away affair, but now he stood almost in itspresence. The Shawnees, whose name was a name of terror to the newsettlements, were probably not a mile away. He felt tremors but theywere not tremors of fear. Courage was an instinctive quality in him.Nature had put it there, when she fashioned him somewhat in the mold ofthe primitive man.
"Step lighter than you ever did afore in your life," said Ross, "an'bend low an' follow me. But don't you let a single twig nor nothin' snapas you pass."
He spoke in a sharp, emphatic whisper, and Henry knew that he consideredthe enemy near. But there was no need to caution the boy, in whom theprimal man was already awakened. Henry bent far down, and holding hisrifle before him in such a position that it could be used at a moment'swarning, was following behind Ross so silently that the guide, hearingno sound, took an instant's backward glance. When he saw the boy hepermitted another faint smile of approval to pass over his face.
They advanced about three-quarters of a mile and then at the crest of ahill thickly clothed in tall undergrowth the guide sank down and pointedwith a long ominous forefinger.
"Look," he said.
Henry looked through the interlacing bushes and, for the second time inhis life, gazed upon a band of red men. And as he looked, his blood fora moment turned cold. Perhaps thirty in number, they were sitting in aglade about a little fire. All of them had blankets of red or blue aboutthem and they carried rifles. Their faces were hideous with war paintand their coarse black hair rose in the defiant scalp lock.
"Maybe they don't know that our men are at the Lick," said Ross, "or ifthey do they don't think we know they've come, an' they're planning foran attack to-night, when they could slip up on us sleepin'."
The guide's theory seemed plausible to Henry, but he said nothing. Itdid not become him to venture opinions before one who knew so much ofthe wilderness.
"It can't be more'n two o'clock," whispered Ross, "an' they'd attackabout midnight. That gives us ten hours. Henry, the Lord is with us.Come."
He slid away through the bushes and Henry followed him. When they were ahalf mile from the Indian camp they increased their speed to anastonishing gait and in a half hour were at the Big Bone Lick.
"Have 'em to load up all the salt at once," said Ross to Shif'less Sol,"an' we must go kitin' back to Wareville as if our feet was greased."
Shif'less Sol shot him a single look of comprehension and Ross nodded.Then the shiftless one went to work with extraordinary diligence and theothers imitated his speed. To the schoolmaster Ross breathed the oneword "Shawnees," and Henry in a few sentences told Paul what he hadseen.
Fortunately the precious salt was packed--they had no intention ofdeserting it, however close the danger--and it was quickly transferredto the backs of the horses along with the food for the way. In a littlemore than a half hour they were all ready and then they fled southward,Shif'less Sol, this time, leading the way, the guide Ross at the rear,eye and ear noticing everything, and every nerve attuned to danger.
The master cast back one regretful glance at his beloved giant bones,and then, with resignation, turned his face permanently toward the southand the line of retreat.
"O Henry," whispered Paul, half in delight, half in terror, "did youreally see them?"
"Yes," replied Henry, "twenty or more of 'em, and an ugly lot they were,too, I can tell you, Paul. I believe we could whip 'em in a stand-upfight, though they are three to our one, but they know more of thesewoods than we do and then there's the salt; we've got to save what we'vecome for."
He sighed a little. He did not wholly like the idea of running away,even from a foe thrice as strong. Yet he could not question the wisdomof Ross and Shif'less Sol, and he made no protest.
The men looked after the heavily laden horses--nobody could ride exceptas a last resort--and southward they went in Indian file as they hadcome. Henry glanced around him and saw nothing that promised danger. Itwas only another beautiful afternoon in early spring. The forest glowedin the tender green of the young buds, and, above them arched the sky abrilliant sheet of unbroken blue. Never did a world look moreattractive, more harmless, and it seemed incredible that these woodsshould contain men who were thirsting for the lives of other men. But hehad seen; he knew; he could not forget that hideous circle of paintedfaces in the glade, upon which he and Ross had looked from the safecovert of the undergrowth.
"Do you think they'll follow us, Henry?" asked Paul.
"I don't know," replied Henry, "but it's mighty likely. They'll hang onour trail for a long time anyway."
"And if they overtake us, there'll be a fight?"
"Of cour
se."
Henry, watching Paul keenly, saw him grow pale. But his lips did nottremble and that passing pallor failed to lower Paul in Henry's esteem.The bigger and stronger boy knew his comrade's courage and tenacity, andhe respected him all the more for it, because he was perhaps less fittedthan some others for the wild and dangerous life of the border.
After these few words they sank again into silence, and to Paul and themaster the sun grew very hot. It was poised now at a convenient angle inthe heavens, and poured sheaves of fiery rays directly upon them. Mr.Pennypacker began to gasp. He was a man of dignity, a teacher of youth,and it did not become him to run so fast from something that he couldnot see. Ross's keen eye fell upon him.
"I think you'd better mount one of the horses," he said; "the big baythere can carry his salt and you too for a while until you are rested."
"What! I ride, when everybody else is afoot!" exclaimed Mr. Pennypacker,indignantly.
"You're the only schoolmaster we have and we can't afford to lose you,"said Ross without the suspicion of a grin.
Mr. Pennypacker looked at him, but he could not detect any change ofcountenance.
"Hop up," continued Ross, "it ain't any time to be bashful. Others of usmay have to do it afore long."
Mr. Pennypacker yielded with a sigh, sprang lightly upon the horse, andthen when he enjoyed the luxury of rest was glad that he had yielded.Paul, and one or two others took to the horses' backs later on, butHenry continued the march on foot with long easy strides, and no sign ofweakening. Ross noticed him more than once but he never made anysuggestion to Henry that he ride; instead the faint smile of approvalappeared once more on the guide's face.
The sun began to sink, the twilight came, and then night. Ross called ahalt, and, clustered in the thickest shadows of the forest, they atetheir supper and rested their tired limbs. No fire was lighted, but theysat there under the trees, hungrily eating their venison, and talking inthe lowest of whispers.
Mr. Pennypacker was much dissatisfied. He had been troubled by the hastyflight and his dignity suffered.
"It is not becoming that white men should run away from an inferiorrace," he said.
"Maybe it ain't becomin', but it's safe," said Ross.
"At least we are far enough away now," continued the master, "and wemight rest here comfortably until dawn. We haven't seen or heard a signof pursuit."
"You don't know the natur' of the red warriors, Mr. Pennypacker," saidthe leader deferentially but firmly, "when they make the least noisethen they're most dangerous. Now I'm certain sure that they struck ourtrail not long after we left Big Bone Lick, an' in these woods the manthat takes the fewest risks is the one that lives the longest."
It was a final statement. In the present emergency the leader'sauthority was supreme. They rested about an hour with no sound save theshuffling feet of the horses which could not be kept wholly quiet; andthen they started on again, not going so quickly now, because the nightwas dark, and they wished to make as little noise as possible, threshingabout in the undergrowth.
Paul pressed up by the side of Henry.
"Do you think we shall have to go on all night, this way?" he asked."Wasn't Mr. Pennypacker right, when he said we were out of danger?"
"No, the schoolmaster was wrong," replied Henry. "Tom Ross knows moreabout the woods and what is likely to happen in them than Mr.Pennypacker could know in all his life, if he were to live a thousandyears. It's every man to his own trade, and it's Tom's trade that weneed now."
After hearing these sage words of youth Paul asked no more questions,but he and Henry kept side by side throughout the night, that is, whenneither of them was riding, because Henry, like all the others, now tookturns on horseback. Twice they crossed small streams and once a largerone, where they exercised the utmost caution to keep their precious saltfrom getting wet. Fortunately the great pack saddles were a protection,and they emerged on the other side with both salt and powder dry.
When the night was thickest, in the long, dark hour just before thedawn, Henry and Paul, who were again side by side, heard a faint,distant cry. It was a low, wailing note that was not unpleasant,softened by the spaces over which it came. It seemed to be far behindthem, but inclining to the right, and after a few moments there cameanother faint cry just like it, also behind them, but far to the left.Despite the soft, wailing note both Henry and Paul felt a shiver runthrough them. The strange low sound, coming in the utter silence of thenight, had in it something ominous.
"It was the cry of a wolf," said Paul.
"And his brother wolf answered," said Henry.
Shif'less Sol was just behind them, and they heard him laugh, a lowlaugh, but full of irony. Paul wheeled about at once, his pride aflameat the insinuation that he did not know the wolf's long whine.
"Well, wasn't it a wolf--and a wolf that answered?" he asked.
"Yes, a wolf an' a wolf that answered," replied Shif'less Sol withsardonic emphasis, "but they had only four legs between 'em. Them wasthe signal cries of the Shawnees, an', as Tom has been tellin' you allthe time, they're hot on our trail. It's a mighty lucky thing for us wedidn't undertake to stay all night back there where we stopped."
Paul turned pale again, but his courage as usual came back. "Thank Godit will be daylight soon," he murmured to himself, "and then if theyovertake us we can see them."
Faint and far, but ominous and full of threat came the howl of the wolfagain, first from the right and then from the left, and then from pointsbetween. Henry noticed that Ross and Shif'less Sol seemed to drawthemselves together, as if they would make every nerve and muscle taut,and then his eyes shifted to Mr. Pennypacker, and seeing him, he knew atonce that the master did not understand; he had not heard the words ofShif'less Sol.
"It seems that we are pursued by a pack of wolves instead of a warparty," said Mr. Pennypacker. "At least we are numerous enough to beatoff a lot of cowardly four-footed assailants."
Henry smiled from the heights of his superior knowledge.
"Those are not wolves, Mr. Pennypacker," he said, "those are theShawnees calling to one another."
"Then, why in Heaven's name don't they speak their own language!"exclaimed the exasperated schoolmaster, "instead of using that whichappertains only to the prowling beast?"
Henry, despite himself, was forced to smile, but he turned his face andhid the smile--he would not offend the schoolmaster whom he esteemedsincerely.
The dawn now began to brighten. The sun, a flaming red sword, cleft thegray veil, and then poured down a torrent of golden beams upon the vast,green wilderness of Kentucky. Henry, as he looked around upon the littleband, realized what a tiny speck of human life they were in all thosehundreds of miles of forest, and what risks they ran.
Ross gave the word to halt, and again they ate of cold food. While theothers sat on fallen timber or leaned against tree trunks, Ross and Soltalked in low tones, but Henry could see that all their words weremarked by the deepest earnestness. Ross presently turned to the men andsaid in tones of greatest gravity:
"All of you heard the howlin' just afore dawn, an' I guess all of youknow it was not made by real wolves, but by Shawnees, callin' to eachother an' directin' the chase of us. We've come fast, but they've comefaster, an' I know that by noon we'll have to fight."
The schoolmaster's eyes opened in wonder.
"Do you really mean to say that they are overhauling us?" he asked.
"I shore do," replied Ross. "You see, they're better trained travelersfor woods than we are, an' they are not hampered by anythin'."
Mr. Pennypacker said nothing more, but his lips suddenly closed tightlyand his eyes flashed. In the great battle ground of the white man andthe red man, called Kentucky, the early schoolmaster was as ready as anyone else to fight.
Ross and Sol again consulted and then Ross said:
"We think that since we have to fight it would be better to fight whenwe are fresh and steady and in the best place we can find."
All the men nodded. They were
tired of running and when Ross gave theword to stop again they did so promptly. The questioning eyes of bothRoss and Sol roamed round the forest and finally and simultaneously thetwo uttered a low cry of pleasure. They had come into rocky ground andthey had been ascending. Before them was a hill with a rather steepascent, and dropping off almost precipitously on three sides.
"We couldn't find a better place," said Ross loud enough for all tohear. "It looks like a fort just made for us."
"But there is no line of retreat," objected the schoolmaster.
"We had a line of a retreat last night and all this mornin' an' we'vebeen followin' it all the time," rejoined the leader. "Now we don't needit no more, but what we do need to do is to make a stan'-up fight, an'lick them fellers."
"And save our salt," added the master.
"Of course," said Ross emphatically. "We didn't come all these miles an'work all these days just to lose what we went so far after an' worked sohard for."
They retreated rapidly upon the great jutting peninsula of rocky soil,which fortunately was covered with a good growth of trees, and tetheredthe horses in a thick grove near the end.
"Now, we'll just unload our salt an' make a wall," said Ross with atrace of a smile. "They can shoot our salt as much as they please, justso they don't touch us."
The bags of salt were laid in the most exposed place across thenarrowest neck of the peninsula and they also dragged up all the fallentree trunks and boughs that they could find to help out their primitivefortification. Then they sat down to wait, a hard task for men, buthardest of all for two boys like Henry and Paul.
Two of the men went back with the horses to watch over them and also toguard against any possible attempt to scale the cliff in their rear, butthe others lay close behind the wall of salt and brushwood. The sunswung up toward the zenith and shone down upon a beautiful world. Allthe wilderness was touched with the tender young green of spring andnothing stirred but the gentle wind. The silky blue sky smiled over ascene so often enacted in early Kentucky, that great border battleground of the white man and the red, the one driven by the desire fornew and fertile acres that he might plow and call his own, the other byan equally fierce desire to retain the same acres, not to plow nor evento call his own, but that he might roam and hunt big game over them atwill.
The great red eye of the sun, poised now in the center of the heavens,looked down at the white men crouched close to the earth behind theirlow and primitive wall, and then it looked into the forest at the redmen creeping silently from tree to tree, all the eager ferocity of theman hunt on the face of everyone.
But Paul and Henry, behind their wall, saw nothing and heard nothing butthe breathing of those near them. They fingered their rifles and throughthe crevices between the bags studied intently the woods in front ofthem, where they beheld no human being nor any trace of a foe. Henrylooked from tree to tree, but he could see no flitting shadow. Where thepatches of grass grew it moved only with the regular sweep of thebreeze. He began to think that Ross and Sol must be mistaken. Thewarriors had abandoned the pursuit. He glanced at Ross, who was not adozen feet away, and the leader's face was so tense, so eager and soearnest that Henry ceased to doubt, the man's whole appearance indicatedthe knowledge of danger, present and terrible.
Even as Henry looked, Ross suddenly threw up his rifle, and, apparentlywithout aim, pulled the trigger. A flash of fire leaped from the longslender muzzle of blue steel, there was a sharp report like the swiftlash of a whip, and then a cry, so terrible that Henry, strong as hewas, shuddered in every nerve and muscle. The short high-pitched andagonizing shout died away in a wail and after it came silence, grim,deadly, but so charged with mysterious suspense that both Henry and Paulfelt the hair lifting itself upon their heads. Henry had seen nothing,but he knew well what had happened.
"They've come and Ross has killed one of 'em," he whispered breathlesslyto Paul.
"That yell couldn't mean anything else," said Paul trembling. "I'll hearit again every night for a year."
"I hope we'll both have a chance to hear it again every night for ayear," said Henry with meaning.
The master crouched nearer to the boys. He was one of the bravest of themen and in that hour of danger and suspense his heart yearned over thesetwo lads, his pupils, each a good boy in his own way. He felt that itwas a part of his duty to get them safely back to Wareville and theirparents, and he meant to fulfill the demands of his conscience.
"Keep down, lads," he said, touching Henry on his arm, "don't exposeyourselves. You are not called upon to do anything, unless it comes tothe last resort."
"We are going to do our best, of course, we are!" replied Henry withsome little heat.
He resented the intimation that he could not perform a man's full duty,and Mr. Pennypacker, seeing that his feelings were touched, said nomore.
A foreboding silence followed the death cry of the fallen warrior, butthe brilliant sunshine poured down on the woods, just as if it were aglorious summer afternoon with no thought of strife in a human breastanywhere. Henry again searched the forest in front of them, and,although he could see nothing, he was not deceived now by thisappearance of silence and peace. He knew that their foes were there,more thirsty than ever for their blood, because to the natural desirenow was added the tally of revenge.
More than an hour passed, and then the forest in front of them burstinto life. Rifles were fired from many points, the sharp crack blendinginto one continuous ominous rattle; little puffs of white smoke arose,whistling bullets buried themselves with a sighing sound in the bags ofsalt, and high above all rang the fierce yell, the war whoop of theShawnees, the last sound that many a Kentucky pioneer ever heard.
The terrible tumult, and above all, the fierce cry of the warriors senta thrill of terror through Paul and Henry, but their disciplined mindsheld their bodies firm, and they remained crouched by the primitivebreastwork, ready to do their part.
"Steady, everybody! Steady!" exclaimed Ross in a loud sharp voice, everysyllable of which cut through the tumult. "Don't shoot until you seesomething to shoot at, an' then make your aim true!"
Henry now began to see through the smoke dusky figures leaping from treeto tree, but always coming toward them. It was his impulse to fire, themoment a flitting figure appeared, gone the next instant like a shadow,but remembering Ross's caution and their terrible need he restrainedhimself although his finger already lay caressingly on the trigger.Around him the rifles had begun to crack. Ross and Sol were firing withslow deliberate aim, and then reloading with incredible swiftness, anddown the line the others were doing likewise. Bullets were spatteringinto trunks and boughs, or burying themselves with a soft sigh in thesalt, but Henry could not see that anybody was yet hurt.
He saw presently a dark figure passing from one tree to another and thepassage was long enough for him to take a good aim at a hideouslypainted breast. He pulled the trigger and then involuntarily he shut hiseyes--he was a hunter, but he had never hunted men before. When helooked again he saw a blur upon the ground, and despite himself and thefight for life, he shuddered. Paul beside him was now in a state of wildexcitement. The smaller boy's nerves were not so steady and he wasloading and firing almost at random. Finally he lifted himself almostunconsciously to his full height, but he was dragged down the nextinstant, as if he had been seized from below by a bear.
"Paul!" fiercely exclaimed the schoolmaster, all the instincts of apedagogue rising within him, "if you jump up that way again exposingyourself to their bullets, I'll turn you over my knee right here, big asyou are, and give you a licking that you'll remember all your life!"
The master was savagely in earnest and Paul did not jump up again. Henryfired once more, and a third time and the tumult rose to its height.Then it ceased so suddenly and so absolutely that the silence wasappalling. The wind blew the smoke away, a few dark objects lay close tothe ground among the trees before them, but not a sound came from theforest, and no flitting form was there.