THE CAWING OF A CROW.
Three separate times previous to this that faint cawing signal had been
heard, as it seemed, from the distant tree-tops. The most sensitive ear
could not say of a certainty it was not made by one of those
black-coated birds calling to its mate or the flock from which it had
strayed. Neither Boone nor Kenton distinguished any difference between
the tone and what they had heard times without number, and yet neither
held a doubt that it was emitted by a dusky spy stealing through the
woods, and that it bore a momentous message to others of his kith and
kin.
The keen sense of hearing enabled the rangers to locate the signal at
less than a quarter of a mile in front and quite close to the Ohio. From
the first time it was heard, no more than half an hour before, it held
the same relative distance from the river, but advanced at a pace so
nearly equal to that of Boone and Kenton that it was impossible to
decide whether it was further off or nearer than before.
There was no reply to the call, and it was uttered only three times in
each instance. The oppressive stillness that held reign throughout the
forest on that sultry summer afternoon enabled the two men to hear the
cawing with unmistakable distinctness.
In short, our friends interpreted it as a notice from the dusky scout to
his comrades that he was following the progress of the pioneers, which
was therefore fully understood by the war party that was seeking to
encompass their destruction.
When the signal sounded for the fourth time, the rangers seated on the
fallen tree looked in each other's faces without speaking. Then Kenton
asked, in his guarded undertone:
"What do you make of it, Dan'l?"
"There's only one thing to make of it; them Shawanoes are keeping track
of every movement of the folks behind us, and we can't hinder' em."
"How many of the varmints are playing the spy?"
"There may be one, and there may be a dozen."
This answer, of necessity, was guess-work, for there was no possible
means of determining the number, since the hostiles in front so
regulated their progress that not a glimpse had been caught of the
almost invisible trail left by them.
And yet the matter was not wholly conjecture, after all.
"Dan'l," said Kenton, with a significant smile, "there's more than one
of 'em, and you and me know it."
The older smiled in turn and nodded his head.
"You're right; there's two, and may be more--but we know there's two."
Nothing could show more strikingly the marvelous woodcraft of these
remarkable men than their agreement in this declaration, which was
founded upon this fact.
There was a shade of difference between the tone of the last signal and
those that preceded it. You and I would have shaken our heads and
smiled, had we been asked to distinguish it, but to those two past
masters in woodcraft it was as absolute as between the notes of a flute
and the throbbing of a drum.
It was as if, after a Shawanoe had cawed three times, he permitted a
companion to try his hand, or rather his throat, at it, and he who made
the attempt acquitted himself right well.
"Now, Simon," remarked the elder, "as I make it, it's this way--they
mean to ambush the party at Rattlesnake Gulch."
"You're right! that's it," remarked Kenton, with an approving nod of his
head, "and if we don't sarcumvent 'em the varmints will have every
scalp, including ours."
"Rattlesnake Gulch" was a name given to a deep depression on the
Kentucky side of the river, and within one hundred yards of the stream.
It was less than a half a mile in advance of where the two rangers were
seated on the fallen tree, as the summer day was drawing to a close.
A trail made by buffaloes, deer, and other wild animals led through the
middle of this densely-wooded section. No doubt this path had been in
existence at least one hundred years. Beyond the gulch it trended to the
right and deeper into the woods, terminating at a noted salt lick,
always a favorite resort of quadrupeds whether wild or domestic.
The forest was so deep and matted with undergrowth, both to the right
and left of this depression, that nothing but the most pressing
necessity could prevent a person from using the trail when journeying to
the eastward or westward through that section. Evidently, the Shawanoes
counted upon the settlers following the path, and such they would
assuredly do unless prevented by the advance scouts.
"Captain Bushwick was out on a little scout himself last summer,"
remarked Kenton, who, despite their alarming surroundings, seemed to be
in somewhat of a reminiscent mood, "when, on his way back, he started
through that holler. The fust thing he did was to step into a rattler,
which burried his fangs in his leggins, just missing his skin. Afore the
sarpent could strike again, the captain made a sweep with his gun bar'l
that knocked off his head. He was a whopper, and the captain pulled out
his knife to cut off his rattles to bring to the block-house, when he
catched the whir of another rattler just behind him, and if he hadn't
jumped powerful lively he would have catched it that time sartin.
Howsumever, the sarpint couldn't reach him, and the captain shot the
mate, and brought the music box of each home with him."
"It was Captain Bushwick who gave the name Rattlesnake Gulch to the
place, I 'spose," was the inquiring remark of Boone.
"Yes, he seemed to think that name was not only purty, but desarving,
though I've been through the holler a good many times and never seed a
sarpent."
"I have."
"When was that?"
"Less than two weeks ago, I was just entering from the other side when I
caught sight of a buck that was on his way to the lick. He would have
seed me if he hadn't seed just then something else in the path in front
of him that interested him more. It was a rattler as big as them of the
captain's. The buck was a fool, for instead of backing out, as you know
animals are quick to do at sight of a rattler, he began to snuff and
cavort about the snake, and finally brought his front hoofs down on it.
Of course, he cut the serpent all to ribbons, but afore he done it the
buck was stung once or twice, and inside of half an hour he jined the
rattler he had sent on afore. Rattlers are as bad as Injins!" muttered
Boone, with an expression of disgust.
"They may be in some partic'lars, but in some they ain't, Dan'l; f'r
instance, they don't caw like a crow, and don't try to ambuscade folks,
and they give you warning afore they strike, which is more than the
two-legged varmints do."
"Talk about the rattler giving warning afore he strikes," repeated
Boone, who had a poor opinion of the genus crotalus, "he'd be a much
more decent sarpint if he didn't strike at all. The black snake doesn't
sting you, and yet he'll kill the rattler every time. Howsumever," added
the elder ranger, "what's snakes got to do with the bus'ness afore us?"
"That's what I was thinking. Now, Dan'l, we've got to make the varmints
think we're going to try to pass through Rattlesnake Gulch to-night, so
they'll all gather there to welcome us."
"And then what will our folks do?"
"Take some other route."
"But which one? The woods are so thick on the right and left that they,
especially the women, can't go ten feet without making a noise that'll
be sartin to be heard by the varmints."
"There are several things they can do," replied Kenton, thoughtfully,
proving that, like his companion, he had speculated much on the matter.
"In the first place, they must move so slow that they won't reach the
neighborhood of the gulch till after dark, and yet if they move too slow
the Shawanoes will be suspicious. I wish night was near at hand."
"What good does wishing do?"
"None, and never did; but when night does come we can turn about--that
is, some of the boys can, with the women--and cross the river further
down stream, strike the trail on the other side of the Ohio, and go
straight to the block-house."
Boone shook his head. The scheme did not impress him favorably.
"How are you going to get them women and two children across the river?
It isn't likely that any one of 'em knows how to swim a stroke."
"What trouble would it be to tote 'em over?"
Boone again shook his head; he was not pleased with the suggestion.
"I didn't mean to do anything of the kind, but," added Kenton, more
seriously, "there's a canoe of mine hid under the bushes just this side
of the gulch, purvided the varmints haven't tumbled over it."
"More'n likely they've took it away or smashed it, but if I ain't
mistook, there's a craft alongside the flatboat that you left at the
clearing."
"You are right."
"Why not go back for that?"
"It ain't a bad idee," remarked Kenton, thoughtfully. "If I can manage
to fetch the boat up the river without any of the varmints 'specting it,
it'll be just the thing."
"It won't carry all the women and children and rest of the folks at
once."
"Then we can make two v'yages or more, if it's necessary."
"It's risky bus'ness, but it's the best thing that can be done. If you
are lucky 'nough to find tother boat where you left it, seems to me
things will look up."
Kenton glanced around among the tree-tops, as if searching for
something. So he was, though not for any special object.
"'Cording to the way things look it'll be a good two hours afore it'll
be dark 'nough to set to work to sarcumvent the varmints. Them two hours
are long 'nough for the folks to make the trip to Rattlesnake Gulch
twice over. Some plan has got to be fixed up not to git thar till after
two hours is gone, and yet not to have the Shawanoes 'spect that we
'spect anything. Can you tell me how the thing is to be done, Dan'l?"
"There ought to be a good many ways," replied the elder, after a brief
pause; "some accident might happen, such, f'r 'nstance, as getting bit
by a rattler."
Kenton saw the twinkle in the eyes of his friend, who spoke with the
utmost gravity. "Remember," said the younger, "I never seed any rattler
near the gulch; you have; you're the one, therefore, to see some of 'em
agin. You're the one to let a big rattler sting you. After he's made
sartin he's done his work well, why I'll happen 'long and smash the
rattler, and then look after you--helloa!"
Both instinctively grasped their rifles, for they heard the rustling of
leaves, which showed that some one was approaching. Had the noise been
less pronounced the two rangers would have darted behind the nearest
sheltering trees; but the noise was too distinct for either Boone or
Kenton to suspect that an enemy was at hand. They knew it was a
friend--at least one from whom they had nothing to fear.
So it proved; for while they were peering toward the point whence the
figure was known to be approaching, Jethro Juggens, the burly colored
servant lad of Mr. Altman, slouched into sight, with his rifle slung
over his shoulder. Not until he had advanced a dozen steps further did
he see two hunters seated on the fallen tree. Then he stopped suddenly,
with a startled expression, and brought his heavy rifle to the front.
"None of that!" called Kenton, uncertain what the fellow might do.
"Hello, Mr. Kenton, dat's yo'self, am it?" called Jethro, with a grin;
"I tinked you was de Panther. I was jes' gwine to plug yo'; lucky yo'
spoke when yo' done did, or I'd wiped out bofe ob yo' afore anybody
could hold me; but," added Jethro, in an awed undertone, "I's got bery
important news for yo', Mr. Kenton and Mr. Boom."