BOONE, THE CAPTAIN OF PIONEERS
THAT night the hunters passed again with the settlers. On the following
morning it was the intention of Boone and his companions to start
further west; for the lure of Kentucky was in his veins, and he felt
that no other place could satisfy him, after having once seen that rich
soil and hunted in the majestic woods along the Kentucky River.
Before leaving the pioneers the mighty hunter gave them much good
advice. He knew of a very desirable plateau just a few miles further
west, looking out upon the river, where he himself would locate if he
had not already decided on a site on the Kentucky River; and here he
hoped they would settle.
Bob and Sandy had decided that they would accompany the hunters a
little way when they left. They wished to see as much of them as
possible, and, besides, it was down the river the rest would soon be
coming, in search of the spot marked out by the discerning eye of
Boone.
"Glad to have your company, lads," said Daniel Boone, when Bob made
the request, "for I have taken much interest in both of you. Friend
Armstrong is a lucky man to have his family with him from the start,"
and he sighed slightly, for it had been so fated that in much of his
pioneer work Boone was compelled to be separated from those he loved.
That was a morning those lads would never forget as long as they lived.
Side by side they walked with the man who knew more about Indian
craftiness than any other along the entire frontier; and in his own
pleasant way Boone gave the boys much valuable advice.
"Always keep a charge in your gun if possible," he said, "and sleep
with one eye open, when you have reason to believe there are Indians
around; for, next to a cat, I believe the red varmints to be the
trickiest things in all creation. But here we are at the spot I picked
out for your settlement. It would not be wise for you to go any
further, lads. What do you think of my choice? Do you believe you can
make a happy home here?"
When they looked around, and noted the natural beauty of the location,
commanding a fine view of the river as it did, the two boys were loud
in its praise.
"I'm glad you like it," observed Boone; "for the first time I struck
this place I determined that some day it must be covered with the homes
of white men. Once an Indian village stood here, and why they moved
away I never learned; but you will find many signs where their lodges
stood, and there are burial places back in the hills."
"Must you go now, Colonel Boone?" asked Bob, who felt a sense of keen
regret because their pleasant relations must be severed so soon.
"It is necessary that we lose no more time," came the reply; "already I
fear that some who await us far beyond may be in difficulties, for the
Indians were beginning to grow troublesome at the time I left. But we
will come again. Here we shall hope to find a warm welcome when passing
back and forth."
So the boys shook hands with each of the five buckskin-clad rangers.
The young man, Simon Kenton, had interested them very much.
"He has the making of a second Colonel Boone in him," Bob said, as his
eyes followed the little band of pioneers, walking along in Indian
file, with Kenton bringing up the rear; "I wish he would only take a
notion to join his fortunes with us here."
Then the figures of the five were hidden in the dense undergrowth. The
last they saw of Daniel Boone was when he turned, before plunging into
the thicket, to wave a hand to them in good-bye.
"What shall we do now?" asked Sandy, rather gloomily; for somehow he
seemed to feel the departure of these valiant frontiersmen keenly,
though he had only known them such a brief time.
"Stay around here until our folks come. We promised Colonel Boone not
to follow after him, you remember," returned Bob, with whom his word
was as good as his bond.
"But that may not be for some hours," protested the impatient Sandy;
"because, you know, they were not near ready to start when we left
camp; and then they will move much slower than we did, led by men who
know every trail."
"But it ought to be enough for us to just sit here and look out on that
grand river," remarked Bob, admiration in his eyes, as he turned them
upon the silently flowing stream, still bank-full from the spring rains.
"It is a fine sight, I'm ready to say," Sandy admitted; "and after we
get a cabin built we ought to be mighty well contented here, with fish
to be had for the taking at the door, and game coming up almost asking
to be shot."
"Think of the use for our traps back in those wooded hills. Why, I
wager we shall lay in a store of pelts the first winter five times as
great as ever happened in Virginia. But how glad I am the dreadful
journey is done. Kate and mother both stood it better than father
expected. How brave they are, and what a blessing it is to have such a
mother and sister."
Bob's eyes filled while he was speaking; but they were tears of
gratitude, not sorrow.
Sitting there, and gazing as if fascinated out upon the broad and
majestic stream which from this time on was fated to enter so deeply
into their new life, Bob did not notice that his younger brother was
wandering around the place. Sandy had always been as curious as any
woman, and this propensity had more than a few times brought him face
to face with trouble.
It was perhaps half an hour after the five hunters had left them when
Bob suddenly aroused to the fact that for some time he had not heard
anything from his brother.
"I wonder where he can be?" he said to himself a little anxiously as
he scrambled to his feet to glance around. "Strange that he is not in
sight. Perhaps after all he did lie down, and in this warm sunshine has
gone to sleep."
The idea pleased him, and he started to search for some sign of the
missing one.
Three minutes, five passed, and still he had not discovered Sandy. He
had not as yet called, thinking that there was no need.
"Perhaps I can track him," Bob said to himself, as he once more reached
the spot where he had been reclining.
It was not very difficult to ascertain where the footprints of his
brother made a distinct trail, for, although Sandy wore moccasins, the
soil was soft, and he had not been at any pains to hide his tracks.
So Bob moved along, to the right and to the left, just as Sandy had
happened to make his way when investigating the site for the proposed
settlement. Thus by slow degrees he found himself doubling on their own
trail.
At discovering this Bob smiled.
"I think I can see now," he remarked. "While we promised Colonel Boone
not to go any further than this, nothing was said about the back
country. And Sandy has been unable to resist the temptation to wander
around, looking for game. But he could not have found anything worth
while, or surely I should have heard a gun-shot. Perhaps I had better
give him a hail."
So saying he raised his hand to his mouth, after a fashion which they
had long followed when in the woods, or following their line of traps,
and immediately through the woods rang his shout:
"Ho! Sandy! Hello!"
To his astonishment a voice immediately answered, and he saw his
brother advancing hurriedly toward him. But he carried no game; and no
sooner had Bob set eyes upon the other's face than he realized that
Sandy brought news of some sort, for he looked excited.
"What is it,--Indians?" asked the older boy, involuntarily half raising
his musket, and casting an apprehensive glance around at the frowning
and mysterious forest by which they were almost entirely surrounded.
But Sandy shook his head in the negative, much to the relief of his
brother.
"Then have you found a bear's den, or perhaps a wolf's whelps?" he went
on.
"You would never guess it in a week, Bob," declared Sandy, with a
smile; "but come with me. I am sure you can do him good, with your
knowledge of surgery, which is going to make you a wonderful man some
fine day."
"Surgery! What have you found, Sandy? Is there any one wounded near
here?"
Sandy nodded his head.
"Yes, and pretty badly hurt, I fear."
"Not a white man, surely?" went on the other, falling into step with
the impatient one.
"It is an Indian," replied Sandy, soberly.
"Perhaps one of those who were wounded in the fight. He may have come
thus far on his way to his village, and given out," and now it was Bob
who urged the pace, for his professional instinct had been aroused.
True, it was only an Indian who was injured, and in those days the
settlers on the frontiers had a very low estimation of the red man as
a human being. But then Bob was a boy, and his love for relieving pain
amounted almost to a mania with him. Many a time had he set the broken
limb of some little wild animal, across which he had accidentally come
in the forest; and his operations had always been very successful; so
much so that both father and mother were proud of him.
Sandy had apparently taken particular notice of the place where he had
found the injured Indian, for he seemed to experience no trouble in
leading the way back there.
"Here he is," he suddenly remarked, as he swept aside a screen of
pawpaws.
Bob looked down upon a painted face, and felt a pair of glittering
black eyes fastened intently upon him.
"Why, he is a young fellow, hardly more than a boy," he remarked in
some surprise; but his words must have been understood by the wounded
one, for he tried to draw his slender figure up in pride.
"Me brave--me Blue Jacket!" he said, almost fiercely, smiting himself
several times on the chest.
The peculiar name caused Bob to notice for the first time that the
young Indian was indeed wearing a hunting shirt fancifully decked with
the quills of the blue-jay, and from which he doubtless took his name,
although in the Indian tongue it would probably be of an altogether
unpronounceable nature.
The Indian did not wholly trust them, it was plain to be seen. Unable
to fight, he seemed ready to stoically meet his fate without a whimper,
for, perhaps, he fully expected these enemies to knock him on the head,
because it was evident from the nature of his wound that he had been in
the recent engagement.
"Let me look at your hurt, Blue Jacket," said Bob, bending down over
the recumbent figure.
The other set his teeth hard, but beyond a grunt gave no sign, while
the white lad carefully drew away the cloth which was tied about the
leg in which a bullet had become imbedded.
In some way the wounded brave must have become separated from his
fellows, and, while trying to get to his village alone, had fallen here
through weakness caused by the loss of blood.
"He would have been dead by morning if some one had not found him,"
declared Bob as he started to cleanse the wound as well as possible
just then, meaning to repeat the operation when he could have warm
water in plenty.
Those beady eyes followed each gentle action with perplexity that
gradually grew into confidence. Blue Jacket was learning a new lesson
in warfare. His savage conception of how a fallen enemy should be
treated had received a rude jolt.
"Here, Sandy," said the young surgeon, presently, "take hold of his
feet, and we will carry him over to where we expect to camp on the site
of the coming settlement. The poor fellow shall not die if I can help
it. You found him, and he belongs to us. Remember that, if anybody
wants to do him an injury. Pat will stand by us, I'm sure; and mother
must, for has she not always told us we should do good even to them
that persecute us. Now, gently, Sandy. An Indian can suffer, if he does
refuse to show it."