KENTON'S LIFE WITH THE INDIANS
"MUST we wait for night to come, Bob, before we can make a move?"
asked Sandy, as he and his brother sat back of the water curtain that
concealed the wonderful cavern discovered by Simon Kenton.
"Why, what else could be done?" exclaimed Bob. "In the broad daylight,
if we left this hiding-place, we might run across some hunting party of
Senecas; or, perhaps, a group of other Indians returning to their own
country. What a calamity that would prove, Sandy!"
"Yes, I understand," the younger boy replied, with a heavy sigh; "but
how slowly the hours pass. They seem like lead to me. Every minute
drags as if it stood for ten. I've tried to sleep; but the terrible
position of our poor sister haunts me. And then I get to thinking of
father. What if it was his party that the Indians attacked and killed."
"We can only hope on, and trust that all will come out well in the
end," replied Bob, who only with a most determined effort was able to
keep from falling into the same despondent condition that Sandy showed.
Truth to tell, there was good reason for his courage to be put to
the test. By some accident Abijah Cook, the companion of Kenton on
this long and hazardous trip to the country of the Great Lakes, had
overheard some Indians talking, while he lay concealed in a dense
thicket near the borders of the Seneca village.
Among other things which they discussed, was the information that a
party of palefaces travelling eastward had been taken by surprise, and
utterly wiped out of existence. Their scalps even then adorned the
lodge-poles of a Shawanee village far to the southeast.
It was true that the one who carried this news had claimed that the
party numbered a round ten, as many as the fingers on both hands, but
Bob knew how such a thing might easily be stretched in the telling,
and, while he pretended to scoff at the idea of their father's little
party having fallen victims to the treachery of the red men, deep
down in his heart he was conscious of a terrible chill every time his
thoughts turned that way.
"But how is it we do not see our good friend, Blue Jacket?" continued
Sandy. "He is not the one to desert us in such a terrible time as this."
"Never!" exclaimed Bob, positively. "Blue Jacket is faithful to the
death. You do not see him just now because Kenton sent him to visit the
village, and find out how the land lies."
"But dare he enter there, with Pontiac and all those other chiefs from
distant tribes still present as guests of Kiashuta?" asked Sandy,
puzzled.
"Why not," answered his brother, "when that is the very thing to make
his coming seem perfectly natural. Blue Jacket is known as a coming man
in his tribe. Some day, if he lives, he will become famous, and, Sandy,
although I am sorry to say it, outside of our family I do not believe
Blue Jacket loves the whites any too much."
"No," declared Sandy, quickly; "he has lost several dear relatives by
the guns of the settlers. He was even engaged in trying to wipe out
our little caravan at the time we saved his life, and won his eternal
gratitude. I see now what you mean, Bob. He can enter the village of
the Senecas, saying that he was on a mission for his far-away tribe,
and, learning of the grand council, stopped to meet Pontiac."
"And to learn what the outcome of the grand palaver had been, so he
might carry the news with him to his own people. I think he must be
known to some of the other chiefs, who would vouch for him--Long Coat,
the Delaware; Turtle Heart and Bald Eagle, of the same nation; and even
Silver Heels, who, like our friend, is a full-blooded Shawanee. I am
only worried about one thing, Sandy."
"Tell me what that may be, then," asked Bob's brother.
"When Blue Jacket comes face-to-face with Pontiac," the older pioneer
boy went on, "will those far searching eyes of the great sachem look
deep into his heart, and see that he has a double purpose in coming
into the village? They say he has terrible eyes, that can read the
secrets of the heart like the pages of a book."
"But Blue Jacket really has no cause for fear!" Sandy exclaimed. "His
heart is with the plans of Pontiac, only, in this case, he would try
and save our little sister to us."
"But," Bob continued, shaking his head seriously, "think what would
happen to him if they knew he had been hidden in the sacred oak, and
assisted two palefaces to overhear the council!"
"Well, they are not going to know that, for a while at least," declared
Sandy; "unless one of our prisoners happens to get away. We must make
sure that so great a disaster does not occur."
"Surely. But here is Simon Kenton coming to join us. I have wanted to
ask him many things about the village of the Senecas, where our Kate is
a prisoner, and perhaps, while we sit here, waiting for Blue Jacket's
return, he may give us some account of what he has seen among the
lodges of Kiashuta."
The borderer threw himself down beside them.
"What were you two talking about just now?" he remarked, smiling in
his pleasant way, for Kenton was a most agreeable young fellow, with
winning manners that made him many friends, even though Boone looked
upon him as a firebrand because of his extreme recklessness in fighting
the Indians.
"I was just saying to Sandy that, since you have been in the Seneca
village several times, you might tell us some of the things you saw
there. Is it a very large place; are the Senecas feeling bitter
against the white settlers; and what do they do when not on the
warpath?"
"Both times that I was among the Seneca lodges it was in disguise,"
smiled Kenton, always ready to give information when it lay in his
power. "A friendly Indian decked me out in paint and feathers, and, as
I speak the language almost as well as one of the natives, I had little
difficulty. I was supposed to be a strolling Cayuga, and received as
such."
"But on this present expedition you did not venture to go in among the
lodges, because of the added danger, I suppose?" Bob asked, deeply
interested.
"Yes," Kenton continued; "one night we stole past the guard, and
scouted around; but the dogs got scent of us, and we found it best to
leave in a hurry. There was more or less of a row; but the Indians
doubtless believed that it had only been some bold wild animal that had
invaded the village in search of food. We easily covered our tracks,
and, after that, decided to simply hang about, waiting for the coming
of Pontiac."
"Then you could not know anything about our sister, or the location of
Black Beaver's lodge?" asked Sandy, in a disappointed tone.
"That is true," came the hunter's reply; "but all that information we
expect the friendly Shawanee chief to pick up right now. He knows his
business, and, depend on it, his report will cover the ground."
"I have always wanted to see the life of an Indian village," Bob went
on; "but so far the chance has never come. Sandy, here, was a prisoner
once in a Shawanee camp; but, as he was shut up in a wigwam until we
managed to get him away, he saw little of what went on. As for me, I
only had distant views of the place, and my curiosity was far from
satisfied."
"And, on my part, I know the life of the Indian almost as well as I do
that of my own kind," said Kenton, thoughtfully. "Many times have I
spent a week among them, studying their ways, which have always had a
strange fascination for me. Yes, one old chief was determined to adopt
me, and I even had to steal away from his village as though I were a
thief. I have hunted with the red men; watched their several dances
in the seasons; learned many of their secret ways of curing skins,
and drying meat for winter use; studied the magic that their medicine
men pretend to employ in healing the sick, and casting out devils by
all sorts of incantations and rattling of sacred gourds. Once I even
assisted in securing the venom of the rattlesnake, which was to be used
in poisoning the flint arrowheads they expected to use against their
foes."
"I have heard of that more than once, but never met any one who had
really seen how it was done," exclaimed Bob.
"Then I will tell you," Kenton immediately remarked; "for, after
all, it is a very simple operation, though terrible enough. When all
preparations have been made an extra large rattlesnake is found and
brought to bay. As he rests in his coils they proceed to provoke him,
by prodding with poles, until he is desperately angry, and launches his
flat head out again and again, while his rattles buzz like a locust in
the bush."
"Oh! we have come across many a rattlesnake," observed Sandy, "and have
fully a dozen rattles at home to show for it. But they always give me
a creepy feeling. I just can't help jumping every time I hear that
dreadful warning."
"Having enraged the snake enough," Kenton went on, "a piece of liver
is fastened to the end of a pole, and this is thrust up close to the
coiled rattlesnake, which strikes hard and often at the meat. Later on
this is allowed to turn green with the virus, and in this way a supply
of poison is secured. But we ought to feel glad, boys, that the custom
of poisoning arrows or spear points is as a rule frowned down upon by
nearly all the tribes, as being too terrible. For, say what you will, I
have found that there is a certain sense of honor among the redskins."
"Yes, we ought to be glad that is so," declared Bob. "I've known quite
a few who received wounds from arrows shot from hickory bows in the
hands of Indians, and, had the tips been dipped in poison, they would
not now be alive to tell the story."
"And I myself could show you marks where the feathered barbs have torn
my flesh," went on the young borderer, calmly. "After watching that
operation with the serpent I was more than a little uneasy the next
time I received a wound. But the red men themselves long ago frowned
down upon such a terrible process, so we have little to fear in that
quarter."
"Then it will be necessary, if Kate is rescued, that the village be
entered under cover of darkness?" asked Bob.
"Without doubt that will be our plan," said Kenton. "I have been
thinking it over, and arrived at a conclusion."
"Oh! please let us hear it!" exclaimed Sandy, eagerly.
"We must wait for a windy night, as well as a dark one," the
frontiersman went on. "The wilder it is, the more chance we have for
success, because we must set fire to the lodges, and start a fierce
blaze, so that during the excitement, the girl can be taken away. After
they have put out the flames the Indians may believe that Kate has just
fled in fear of the danger."
"I understand what you mean," cried Sandy, "and it strikes me that it
is a wonderful plan. It must succeed; only I'm sorry that we have to
wait. A windy night may be a long time in coming; and how can we hold
back?"
"Oh! at this changing season of the year there are few times when the
wind does not blow, more or less," returned Kenton, reassuringly.
"Perhaps it may be to-night for aught we know."
"Don't I just hope so," said the boy. "But I wish you would let us go
with you into the village."
"I'm afraid that might be taking too many risks," returned the
borderer. "However, we will see, later on. At least, I mean to ask Blue
Jacket to help me rig both of you out in paint, so that, in case you
are seen, discovery would not necessarily follow."
"Oh! we have more than once done the same ourselves, when playing
Indian," said Bob, readily; "and it will not be so hard to carry out
the part. But I trust that we may be given a chance to see what the
village of Kiashuta looks like, while we wait for you to set the fires,
and carry our sister off."
"Sandy, if you do not mind, it is about time we had something to eat,"
remarked Kenton, turning with one of his rare smiles to the younger
pioneer lad. "The fire is smoldering, and can be readily rekindled with
a handful of small stuff. This inaction does not keep one from feeling
hungry, it seems."
So Sandy, always ready to do his duty, scrambled to his feet, and
started toward the other side of the wide cavern, stepping over the
figure of Abijah Cook, who was making up for lost sleep while he had
the chance.
Pat O'Mara had gone off on a hunt for the day and had not returned.
Five seconds later and the voice of Sandy rang out in wild alarm.
"Bob! Kenton! make haste, or he will get away! It is Armand Lacroix,
and he has slipped his bonds! See, he is making for the shelf! Oh! stop
him, somebody!"