SIMON KENTON, THE BORDERER
WHEN the boys returned to the settlement, bringing with them the buck,
and accompanied by Simon Kenton and his two companions, they were
warmly greeted.
The story of how Sandy had braved the three crafty French trappers soon
went abroad, and many congratulated the boy on his firm stand. They
knew well that it was this secret French influence which was doing so
much to make the Indians dig up the hatchet that had been buried at the
treaty of Fort Stanwix some years previous; and in every breast existed
the same detestation for the cowardly traders who, for the sake of
gain, would encourage the savages to resort once more to the torch, and
the murderous tomahawk.
Several men vanished from the post shortly after the boys returned. It
was suspected that they had banded together with the idea of pursuing
the trio of Frenchmen, and putting it out of their power to carry their
news to other Indian villages; for Pat O'Mara, who was one of this
band, declared it to be his belief that these men were messengers, sent
to bear the wampum belt of the great leader, Pontiac, to chiefs who
were even then hesitating over what to do.
The men came back on the next day, and, while none of them would
say a word about the result of their mission, it was not believed
that success had followed them, for they exhibited no symptoms of
satisfaction.
Simon Kenton was a great favorite in this Ohio River settlement. As
the boon companion of the leading pioneer he would have been warmly
welcome; but, besides that, he had such a genial nature that he made
friends wherever he went. Contact with Daniel Boone was also doing
wonders for this fine young borderer. By slow degrees he was conquering
his numerous faults in the line of hasty temper, and quick action, that
in the past had brought him so much trouble.
His place among the men of the early days along the great river has
long been recognized in history. While he lacked some of the wonderful
qualities that made Boone beloved among the whites, and both feared and
respected by the Indians, still Kenton has always held a strong place
in the affection of those who know the wonderful exploits with which
his life was crowned.
Although Kenton was possessed of a particularly amiable disposition
among his friends, it is likely that his equal for recklessness
was never known. History tells us that, during the course of his
adventurous life along the border with Boone, and alone, he many times
fell into the hands of the Indians, though they seemed unable to hold
so slippery a customer.
Eight times he was condemned to run the gauntlet, always one of the
most cruel of the Indian inventions of horror; three times was he tied
to the stake, sentenced to be burned alive; and once he was nearly
slain by an ax.
And yet, in spite of all these things, Simon Kenton lived to a green
old age, dying in 1836 within sight of the very spot where the Indians,
fifty-eight years before, had made preparations to torture him to
death. (Note 3.)
While at the settlement of our friends Kenton and his two comrades made
their headquarters in an empty cabin, deserted by a settler who had
gone back to the fair fields of Virginia because his wife grieved for
her family, and was too timid to stay where at any hour they could
expect to hear the wild whoops of hostile Indians.
Of course, as soon as it could be done in secret, the head men of the
settlement sought to find out from Kenton whether the news brought by
Pat O'Mara was founded on facts, or the result of a lively imagination.
"I have been in the eastern country," replied the forest ranger,
seriously; "and can only say this, that thar are all the signs of a big
outbreak. Down in Kentucky Boone has had to be on the defensive all the
time, because the Shawanees did not feel themselves bound by the Fort
Stanwix treaty. My friends, I regret to say to you that the outlook is
dark. Be on your guard. If this winter passes without a general war on
the part of half a dozen tribes, some of us will believe that we are
poor prophets."
And, later on, he told in detail what he and his friends had seen and
heard. The news was distressing to these people, so many hundreds of
miles away from help, and dependent on themselves alone to combat the
gathering clouds.
But there were brave hearts among those early pioneers. Even the
women refused to believe that they were to be overwhelmed, and made to
perish from the face of the earth. From such stock have our forefathers
sprung, and, looking back, we have need of every adjective at our
command to express admiration for the valor of these Ohio pioneers.
David Armstrong felt that he had much to be thankful for in those days.
His wife and little family were in perfect health; but there was one
thing that seemed to be giving the pioneer anxiety.
Never did any one come from over the distant mountains but that Mr.
Armstrong was eagerly inquiring whether the newcomer carried a letter
for him. Thus far disappointment had always been his portion; yet,
after each period of deep despondency, he would once more pick up fresh
hope, and it was usually the brave soul of his gentle wife that put new
ambitions in his breast.
Years ago in Richmond, Mr. Armstrong had been tricked by a cousin,
in whom he placed implicit confidence. The result had been that this
rascal had virtually stolen all of Mr. Armstrong's heritage, which he
had brought from the old country.
David had gone to law about it, but, even in this early day, the
delays were most vexatious; and for years had the case been pending.
Mr. Armstrong never lost hope that, in the end, it would be decided in
his favor, and that he would be summoned to Richmond to take back that
which had been fraudulently wrested from his hands.
He indulged in many rosy-tinted dreams of what wonderful things he
would bring back with him, to add to the happiness of his little brood,
should such a wonderful piece of good luck come his way.
Mary and he had decided that they liked this beautiful country too well
to ever return again to Virginia. Come what would, they belonged here
on the river that flowed between forest-clad banks into the golden west.
Pat O'Mara still hung about the settlement, though at any time he was
apt to disappear. While present, he made his home with the Armstrongs,
and there never was a more welcome guest at a pioneer's cabin than the
Irish trapper with these good friends.
Bob and Sandy took him over the line of their traps, and learned many
clever little tricks that would count when the real time came for
taking fur-bearing animals. Up to now their efforts in that line had
been more in the way of experiments, so as to get used to handling
traps, and keeping the sly little animals from scenting the presence of
human beings around their haunts.
Kenton and his friends had gone on their way. They were really
scouting, in the hope and expectation of learning something about the
anticipated Indian uprising, so that the weaker settlements could
withdraw in time to more secure quarters; for the winter, at least,
combining with stronger posts.
"I wanted father to let me go with Simon Kenton," said Sandy,
despondently, the day after the departure of the frontiersman.
"But of course he refused," said Bob, quickly; "and rightly, too. You
are too young to be wandering around the country as he does, Sandy;
and think, what would mother do without you? It's all well enough for
Kenton, who is a man full grown, and has no home. You belong here,
Sandy, with us. How could I attend to all the traps, and hunt in the
bargain, without you? I am glad father said no; glad for my own sake,
glad for mother, and glad for you, too."
The reference to his mother touched the heart of impulsive Sandy.
"Well," he said, slowly, "I guess it is best I stay for another year
or so, anyway; but, some day, I'm going to follow in the footsteps of
Simon Kenton."
Bob said no more, knowing the nature of his brother only too well, and
by another day Sandy had apparently quite gotten over his grieving.
September was now moving along very fast, and, almost before they would
be aware of it, the great forest trees must be taking on the red and
gold of autumn hues, as the first frost came down from the north.
Each time the boys went out they set another trap, until the entire
number they owned were in use. The prospect ahead looked rosy, indeed,
if only that story in connection with the threatened Indian war could
be forgotten.
Sometimes it came to Bob in the dead of night, to cause him more or
less grave thought, for his was a nature unlike Sandy's lighthearted
one; and, before Pat O'Mara departed, he had once more impressed upon
the older lad the necessity for unusual care in making their rounds of
the traps, or venturing into the surrounding forest in search of game.
And, on this night in question, it seemed to Bob that he awoke from
a very vivid dream, in which the settlement was being attacked by
countless painted Indians. So startling an effect did the dream have
upon him that he even sat up on his cot and listened, as though he
half expected to hear the distant yells of dancing red men as they
surrounded the stockade.
All seemed still, however, and Bob was about to drop back again when,
glancing in the direction of the little window, he was surprised to
find that a flickering glow came and went, as though a fire might be
burning without.
Hastily the boy crept from under his covers, and went over to open the
door, in order to thrust his head outside; but, hardly had he done
this, than he received a shock that dazed him, for he discovered that
the entire side of the cabin was in flames!