FATHER MOURNING FOR SON
What of David Allison's fortunes? Weeks had lengthened into months and
no word had come back to Charlottesville from the man whom the great
woods had swallowed.
After several weeks of weary travel, through forest and by river, the
party had reached the location they sought. It was one that would
attract even the most practical and stolid of frontiersmen: a plain of
several hundred acres surrounded by the forest, a detached part of
those great plains farther west, which stretched hundreds of miles
with scarcely a tree to dot the expanse.
Along each of two sides of the plain a small stream ran, the two
uniting in quite a respectable little river that joined the Great
Kanawha River a few miles distant. Through the tall grass of this
little prairie were great "traces" or paths beaten by the feet of
passing buffalo, elk and deer. Fish swam in the streams and the wild
turkey's call was heard in the forest.
"The Garden of Eden with a redskin for sarpint," was the remark of
weather-beaten Dick Saunders, when first he looked upon it.
"We'll do him no ill an' consider weel before taking his advice aboot
forbidden fruit," replied David Allison.
On the eastern side of the little prairie, near the forest, a stockade
was built of big logs, sharpened at both ends and set close together
in the ground, enclosing about an acre in the form of a rectangle, on
one side of which, and forming part of the stockade, were several
cabins.
The work of construction was arduous and occupied the greater part of
the summer but when completed it afforded a wall of protection, and a
place where, another year, such cattle as they might be able to drive
over the mountains could be sheltered from Indians.
As yet no sign of the red men had been found. While this country was
part of the neutral ground between the savages of the North and those
of the South, a territory over which all hunted, yet through it
warlike bands frequently passed on their expeditions, for there was a
chronic state of hostility between these savages.
The new settlers planted a little corn, but for other food relied upon
hunting. Late in the fall all but three, of whom David Allison was
one, left for home, planning to return in the spring with their
families. Clark had not remained with the settlers as he had other
ventures. Mr. Allison sent a letter to his wife by the only one of
those returning, who lived in Charlottesville; but he, being taken
sick on the way, did not reach home till the following spring, after
Rodney had started to join his father.
The winter months passed slowly for David Allison. Most of his
companions were uneducated men, accustomed, as he was not, to the
rough life. They respected him and he did his share of the work
uncomplainingly, though an older man than the others.
One bitter day an Indian called. As there had been no alarm, the
entrance to the stockade had carelessly been left open and he readily
gained admittance. It appeared he had been with a hunting party, but
became separated from them and was nearly famished. He was given
something to eat and was then told to go along about his business. In
those days some Indians would hang around a settlement, living off the
bounty of the inhabitants, and these men didn't intend to encourage
the habit. A storm threatened and the Indian was loath to leave. Mr.
Allison took him to his cabin and kept him until after the storm was
past.
This act did not please the others of the party and one of them
remarked, "Ye'll find that handlin' lazy, sneakin' redskins is
different from teachin' school boys."
"I'm of the opinion there's human nature i' the whole o' them," was
the quiet reply.
The three men got along without unpleasantness until spring. One day
in March Peter Cogan went out to hunt and did not return. Later he
was found dead and scalped.
For the first time in his life the horror of Indian treachery in time
of peace was forced upon Mr. Allison's mind. He had fought them and
knew of their cruelty in time of war, but he had never lived on the
frontier and had supposed the stories of outrages somewhat exaggerated
and due to ill treatment. His views had been similar to those held by
the Quakers of Pennsylvania. Surely this fiendish deed was unprovoked.
With but two left, there was need of the utmost caution and neither of
the men ventured far from the stockade.
One evening in May several guns were discharged in succession outside
the enclosure. The first party from Virginia had arrived and the
warmth of their welcome may be better imagined than described.
"What of home?" were the first words.
"All well."
"But I thought to see the lad along wi' you," said Mr. Allison.
Then was told the story of the attack on the Ohio, when one man had
been killed and Rodney had disappeared, whether killed or captured was
not known.
"An' you left, deserted him!" he cried, and his cry sounded like a
scream. "Cowards each one o' ye! Who'll go with me to find the laddie?
Not one? Then I'll go alone."
It was with difficulty that he was restrained, and finally convinced
of the folly of such an undertaking.
"You have a wife an' child at home yet to care for," said one, "an'
it's not yer duty to throw yer life away," and the wisdom of this
prevailed with him. But he was never the same man again. The stoop
came back to his shoulders never to leave them. He said little and
worked unceasingly, as though in that way to forget. On his first
opportunity he turned his face toward Virginia, resolved never to
bring his wife and little girl into the perils of the wilderness. The
journey back to Charlottesville was uneventful. Nearly as many weeks
were required for the making of it, as hours in this age of swift
transportation.
How he dreaded breaking the news to his wife! She was always so
patient with his many failures. Yet, the courage displayed by Mrs.
Allison at the setting out of husband and son was such as to leave no
doubt she would meet the new ordeal bravely, as indeed she did. From
the first, she expressed great hope that the boy had been made a
captive and in time would be restored to them, and so strongly did she
urge this view of the matter that her husband regained a little hope.
In his heart, however, there was a bitterness he could not overcome
and, as rumours of Indian outbreaks were more frequent, he became
uneasy. When, the following spring, General Andrew Lewis was ordered
by Governor Dunmore to lead an expedition down the Kanawha River, and
across the Ohio River to the Shawnee towns, David Allison resolved to
go. The men of the party from which Rodney was captured declared that
their assailants were Shawnees and this induced him to enlist under
Lewis.
The mortgage on the little place was as yet unpaid. Mr. Allison on his
return had reopened his school, but the pupils were few. He went to
Denham, told him of his desire to join the expedition against the
Shawnees and his reasons, and asked him if he would not allow him
longer time on the payments.
"All the time you want, Meester Allison, all the time you want," and
he smiled his greasy smile!