INTO THE UNKNOWN LAND
DURING the following two days peace reigned around the humble home of
the Armstrongs; but this was partly because no one went into the town
again save the father, who came home on the second afternoon leading
two horses, at sight of which the boys could hardly repress their
shouts of satisfaction.
This told them that the die was indeed cast, for little need they would
have of horses, save as beasts of burden in case of migration. Wagons
could not be used, so O'Mara had declared, because much of the long
journey must be accomplished along those winding buffalo trails that
traversed the forest, for of roads there were absolutely none.
It was at this time there arose a necessity for some supplies, and the
brothers were told to go into town to obtain the same. Apparently David
had succeeded in securing the funds he so badly needed, showing that
one staunch friend must have stood by him.
The mother looked wistfully after her boys when they hurried away,
filled with new enthusiasm because of the nearness of the time when
they would depart from the scene of all their woes.
"I do hope they will restrain themselves, and not get into any
trouble," she said to her husband, who was busily engaged with the
horses, a new feature in their experience, and one that gave them much
concern.
David smiled back, for it seemed to be his turn to comfort.
"Have no fear of the lads, wife," he said heartily. "They are good
boys, and true, of whom we can well be proud. Sandy is o'er impulsive,
it is true; but Robert possesses the balance. We have need to be
thankful to Providence that we possess two such sons when about to
start upon such a hazardous journey as this."
An hour or so later Pat O'Mara saw the brothers returning. They carried
several packages, which constituted their purchases of necessities,
simple though these were. But the sharp eyes of the trapper saw
something more which they were carrying. Several scratches marked their
faces, and Sandy's left optic seemed to be in a degree of mourning,
all of which told the astute Irish trapper that there must have been
a fracas of some sort. He knew well those signs; and it was with
difficulty he managed to conceal the grin that forced itself upon his
genial face.
Of course there could be no concealing these evident marks of battle.
Nor did the boys attempt to do so.
"You have been in trouble, son," said the mother, as she took the
package from Sandy, and looked upon the cuts and scratches on his cheek.
It was Bob of course who showed signs of contrition; Sandy, on the
other hand, threw his head back, as though proud of his scars. To him
every one stood for an honor mark.
"I could not help it, mother dear," he said. "They taunted me, three of
them, and began to strike me. Then Bob came, and it was better, though
still uneven. But we were furious, and would not give in; would we,
Bob?"
"Who could have been so cowardly and cruel?" asked Mary, as she hurried
to get warm water in a basin, so that the wounds might be properly
bathed, and some homemade liniment put upon them.
"Who but that same bully, Armand Whalen," Sandy went on, eagerly. "Once
before, Bob whipped him until he cried for mercy, and he has never
forgiven us. But never mind, mother; we gave the cowards all they
deserved. They look much worse than we do; and besides, they ran away
in the end. These little cuts are nothing to us. Surely we have had
others many times worse."
"Indeed, I am sorry to have displeased you, mother," said Bob; "but
they were all picking on Sandy, and my blood fairly boiled. Had there
been twice as many it could have made no difference. At any rate, they
will often think of us when we are gone, which is a satisfaction."
At which naive remark the mother found herself compelled to smile. She
could not be provoked with the boys. And besides, she knew very well
what affronts they had continually suffered.
Again she found her eyes drawn irresistibly toward those of her
husband. Upon his face was a set look, as though his mind had been made
up now beyond recall.
"It is the last straw," he said, bitterly; "and the end cannot come any
too soon now to please me. I shall be glad when we have wiped the dirt
of this place from our shoes. Boys, you did what any manly lad would
find himself compelled to do. I am not blaming you one bit. But after
this you must remain at home."
"But father, there is news," said Bob, as he suddenly remembered.
"They are coming here then, those brave souls from Carolina, who head
toward the setting sun?" asked David, showing the eagerness that
possessed his soul.
"Yes," returned the boy; "a messenger has arrived in town from the head
man in charge of the expedition, warning all who mean to accompany them
that they will arrive in three days, and only stop twenty-four hours.
This is the last settlement. When they leave here, it will be to enter
the wilderness."
"Glory be!" exclaimed the trapper, upon hearing this. "Then we will
soon be on our way, with all our troubles behind."
The good wife sighed. She did not anticipate such glorious things as
beckoned the others on. Perhaps she had forebodings in her gentle
heart that the new perils all pioneers must face might prove even more
formidable than those they were leaving behind; and that perchance one
of her loved ones might find an early grave in that new land, a victim
to the treachery of the red men.
But not for worlds would she utter one discouraging word. There seemed
no other course open to them; and the women of that day were every one
of them heroines, capable of enduring untold suffering in the search of
a place they could call home.
Two days afterwards, as promised, the emigrants made their appearance.
David had gone out to meet them on one of the horses.
"Fetch them here to camp beside our spring," his wife had told him;
"for we may be the only family meaning to join our fortunes with
theirs."
And sure enough, they camped near the cabin in the clearing, a round
three dozen in all, including some five more or less sturdy boys with
whom Bob and Sandy fraternized at once.
Then began a period of bustle, as the last preparations were undertaken
by the Armstrongs. Some of their things they gave in charge of the one
faithful neighbor who had remained true to them through good and evil
report. Perhaps at some day an opportunity might arise whereby these
precious, if bulky, heirlooms in the way of furniture could be brought
out to their new home. Just now such a thing was not to be considered
for a moment.
And then the last morning broke.
The brothers were brimming over with excitement, nor did they feel any
particular pain over quitting the place they had for so long called
home. It had ceased to have attraction for them since this shadow had
fallen; and they believed they would be happy to leave it forever.
David Armstrong, too, managed to conceal what feeling he may have had.
But with the little mother it was different. That humble log cabin
meant much to her, for inside those stout walls she had spent several
fairly happy years; but she put these sad thoughts away with a resolute
hand whenever David was near. They would do to dream over when utterly
alone, perhaps in the dark watches of the night, in a new country, and
amid strangers.
All was bustle and confusion. A few of the town people had come out to
see the start of the expedition, and many were the remarks that were
made concerning the possibilities that awaited the daring travellers.
In this hour of parting some of the neighbors, possibly overcome by
contrition, tried to make amends for their recent cruel conduct, but
David ignored all signs of friendly handshakes, and would have none of
them. The iron had eaten too deeply into his soul.
The pack train of horses looked quite formidable when lined up for the
start.
"Twelve of them in all!" Sandy sang out, as he stood ready to urge his
animal on when the leader gave the order to start.
A hardy gathering of valiant souls the emigrants looked just then.
Fortune beckoned to them, and all seemed delightful. If they could only
have looked ahead a few months, and seen the terrible dangers that lay
in wait, doubtless many a smile would have faded from the faces that
now looked so cheerful.
"Hurrah!" shouted the boys, when finally the word passed along the
line, and those in the lead began to move.
But there were no cheers. Those grave-faced men realized only too well
that in thus putting their fortunes to the touch, by venturing into
that unknown world of which so much had been told, they were carrying
not only their own lives, but also those dear to them, in the hollow of
their hands.
The caravan moved away amid the sound of many voices, as the boys urged
their pack steeds along. Never once did Sandy glance back toward the
home he was leaving; he seemed given up entirely to the witchery of the
adventure.
But one pair of eyes turned for a last wistful look at the familiar log
cabin, with the grand old oak hovering above its humble roof, that had
sheltered her little brood so faithfully these years. And then a turn
in the trail shut out the view. Mary Armstrong heaved a sigh, and then
resolutely strove to think only of what might be in store for them in
the new world to which they were journeying.