Scouting with Daniel Boone Part 14

"Alone?" inquired Peleg quickly.

"Yes, alone. I must not take one man away from the party here, and I shall be doubly anxious for you all while I am gone; but the time has come when I may think of my family and myself. In this wonderful land I, too, would make my home."

"But will you dare to come back with your family with only you and Israel to protect them?"

Boone's face lighted up with the rare smile which occasionally appeared upon it as he said: "There will be others, many others, I hope, who will join us on our way."

"I never knew the Indians to be so savage as they are now," suggested Peleg anxiously.

"That is true," said Boone, "and one cannot altogether blame them. They seem to be well-nigh mad in their hatred of us because we have begun to build our homes in the land which they planned to keep as their own. If it were not for their fear of the 'Long Knives,' as they term us, I fancy they would make a desperate a.s.sault very soon. As it is, however, they have a wholesome feeling of fear mingled with their anger, and although you will have to be continually on your guard, I do not believe they will venture to attack the fort while I am gone."

Peleg made no reply, and the scout, acting as if the last word had been spoken, soon after set forth on his long journey to the Clinch.

During the absence of their leader the men continued their labours, felling the trees and clearing the land, until in the immediate vicinity of the fort sufficient ground had been made tillable to enable them to plant the few seeds which Boone had insisted should be brought with them.

The days now were warm, and the delights of the marvellous climate were appreciated by all the men.

The only event of special interest that occurred during the absence of the scout was the coming of Sam Oliver. As unconcerned as if he had long been a member of the company and had earned his thirty-three cents per day for his labours, the hunter entered the fort one night and composedly received the warm greetings which were given him. It was well known that the newcomer was a famous shot, and the coming of even one man strengthened the little garrison not a little.

The general line of the defence of the fort was at once mapped out by Sam, who without a word a.s.sumed the position of leader. It was he who arranged the details and the nightly guards which were maintained, and it was his word which decided any dispute that arose among the men.

One day Peleg was on guard in the adjacent forest. His watch was almost ended and he was about to return to the fort, when he was startled to behold an Indian approaching with the palms of both hands extended.

Holding Singing Susan in readiness for instant use, and glancing keenly about him into the adjacent forest to make sure that his visitor was unaccompanied, Peleg waited patiently for the stranger to approach.

As the warrior drew near Peleg looked at him with increasing astonishment. Dressed in the Indian garb, the warrior, who seemed to be only about twenty years of age, nevertheless had no features like those of the neighbouring tribes. Tanned, the stranger undoubtedly was, but nevertheless his skin did not have the bronze colouring of the Indian.

His figure and even his walk were more like the white man's. And yet in every other point the stranger apparently was of the Indian race.

As he drew near Peleg, his face was lighted by a smile as he said, "Me broder. Me white Shawnee."

Peleg did not respond, although his astonishment was increased by the speech of the approaching warrior.

"Me wan' go home. No fader. Me Shawnee fader. Me wan' white fader.

White moder dead. White fader dead. No Shawnee fader some more."

The puzzling statements were followed by some words unintelligible to Peleg, though he concluded that they were spoken in the Shawnee tongue.

"Do you want to see Daniel Boone?" he inquired.

Gesticulating forcefully, the young man inquired, "He me fader?"

"No."

"White fader dead. White moder dead. Shawnee warriors kill me fader.

Kill moder. Many moons ago."

"How many?"

A puzzled expression for a moment appeared on the stranger's face, and then, comprehending the meaning of the question, he opened and closed his hands so many times that, although Peleg was unable to count the number of moons indicated, he concluded that the Shawnee was approximately of his own age.

"Me live in Shawnee wigwam many moons. Me Shawnee. Me white Shawnee. Me have Shawnee fader and Shawnee broder," and he held up two fingers to indicate the number of his brothers.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "One of the men who had been stationed as a guard was shot early in the morning"]

"What are you doing here? What do you want?" demanded Peleg sharply. He was mystified by the statements which had been made and was fearful of some trap or treachery on the part of his visitor or his companions, who might even then be watching from the nearby forest.

"Me fader, me broder, me go," the visitor replied, pointing to himself.

"All go trap many beaver, many mink, many muskrat," he added, making a circle with his hand to indicate his inability to count the pelts which had been taken. "Me broder he wan' go on warpath. He wan' help drive palefaces out Kantuckee. Me fader he say he go," nodding his head many times to emphasize his statement. "But one night many owls scream and cry. He say then no go. Me broder he say go. Me fader say yes."

"Where are they now?"

The young stranger gazed earnestly into the face of his questioner, and at last, apparently comprehending his question, turned and waved his hand toward the forest to indicate that the men to whom he had referred were far away.

"Why are you here? Why do you not go with them?"

"Me wan' see white faces some more. Me wan' find white broder. Me white Shawnee, where go? Must see paleface wigwam."

For a moment Peleg was silent as he gazed earnestly into the face of the young man who had so strongly impressed him. He was convinced that he was indeed white, and he concluded that he must have been adopted by the Indians many years ago. As a consequence of his a.s.sociation with the Shawnees, doubtless he had almost forgotten the language of his own people.

In his statement words unknown to Peleg were spoken, but he had understood enough to convince him that either the white Shawnee was speaking the truth, or else was trying to set some trap into which the defenders of the fort might be drawn.

"Come with me," said the young scout finally. As they turned toward the fort they met Sam Oliver, who stopped and gazed in surprise at Peleg's companion, and laughed scornfully when he heard the story of the stranger.

"You say you and your Shawnee father and brother buried the canoe in which you came down the river?" demanded the hunter brutally as he turned upon the visitor.

"Bury canoe."

"Then you take us straight to the place where it is. I know well enough you are trying to play some sneaking game on us, and if you are, you will be the first one to suffer for it. If you try to lead us into any trap, no matter what happens to us, I will put a bullet into you."

"No go," pleaded the young warrior.

"You must go!" retorted Sam Oliver harshly.

Peleg sympathized with the stranger. He understood, he thought, the desire of the returning white man to shield his foster-father and brother. The young hunter was now convinced that his visitor had spoken truthfully.

"Sam," he ventured to suggest, "this young brave was stolen when he was a little child, and he has lived with his Shawnee father ever since. He doesn't want to betray him. You cannot blame him for that, can you?"

"There is only one way to deal with the varmints!" retorted Sam hotly.

"You might just as well try to make a pet out of a nest of rattlesnakes as to try to be friends with an Indian. No, sir! This--whatever he is, white man, or red man--he must prove what he has said, and the only way for him to do it is to take us to the place where he pretends that canoe is buried in the ground."

The brutal manner of the hunter apparently had made a deep impression upon the stranger. With manifest reluctance he finally consented to conduct the party to the place where the canoe was buried. It was well known among the settlers that the Indians, after their voyages on the river, buried their light canoes to prevent them from being warped by sun and rain.

"You go where owl cry. Owl scream, me fader--iron----" The stranger stopped as if he was unable to recollect the word he wished to use, making motions with his hands to describe what he wished to say.

Peleg suggested, "Was it an iron kettle?"

A vigorous nod from the stranger indicated that was the word he was trying to recall, and he continued, "Me fader hide iron kettle in hole in tree. Me show you."