BY THE WAY.
Meanwhile, the families of the settlers and their escorts were not idle.
Turned back, when on the threshold as it were of success, they bore
their hard lot with the fortitude and uncomplaining courage which was
one of the most marked characteristics of the pioneers of the West.
They had entered the "promised land," as may be said, for all of the
Ashbridges and Altmans had passed through the door of the cabin in the
clearing; they had deposited their household goods and worldly
possessions in the structure erected with so much care and labor; then,
being warned of the imminent peril of staying, had set out for the
block-house, ten miles distant, there to remain until it was safe for
them to venture once more into the wilderness.
Daniel Boone was in advance of the company, scouting in the neighborhood
of Rattlesnake Gulch, for it was indispensable that he should keep watch
of the main war party of Shawanoes there, and learn, as far as possible,
their intentions towards the whites.
Kenton had turned back to the clearing in quest of the canoe with which
he hoped to carry the families across the Ohio during the favoring
darkness of the night without discovery by the dusky enemies. We left
him pushing his way up stream, after his deadly encounter with the
Shawanoe who had withdrawn the craft from where it was left by the
ranger during his temporary absence.
It may be said, that every man and woman, threading their way through
the wilderness to the block-house, understood the scheme which it was
hoped could be carried through to completion, and each, of course, was
eager to lend his aid to its success.
Within ten minutes, therefore, of the departure of Kenton and Jethro
Juggens, those whom they left behind took up the journey eastward--that
is, toward dreaded Rattlesnake Gulch, which intervened between them and
the post under the command of Captain Bushwick.
The line of march was simple. Weber Hastings acted as guide, or rather
avant-courier, since all knew the route that was to be followed. He kept
a hundred yards, or so, in advance of the company, which timed their
gait to his, so that the intervening space was neither increased nor
diminished.
A second scout kept pace with his chief, but so far removed to the
right, and deeper in the forest, that only rarely did they catch sight
of each other. There were no guards on the left or at the rear, the two
named being considered sufficient to give timely notice of the approach
of danger.
There was no attempt at anything like military order on the part of the
others. The pioneer scouts were impatient of discipline, preferring to
"fight fire with fire"--that is, to combat the Indian by methods
peculiar to the Indians themselves.
Accordingly, the rest of the rangers straggled along, inclosing, so far
as possible, the members of the families whom they hoped to deliver from
their great peril. Mr. Ashbridge and his wife sauntered in front of
their old friends, with little Mabel most of the time between them and
holding a hand of each. Her disposition, however, to dart aside and
pluck every brilliant flower that flashed among the green vegetation
could not be restrained at all times, and was the cause of much anxiety
on the part of her parents.
Next in order walked Mr. Altman and his wife, while of Agnes, the
daughter, and George, it may be said they brought up the rear.
"I wonder," said Agnes, in her low, sweet voice, "whether, when we reach
the block-house, we shall be safe, or whether we shall have to keep on
going east until we arrive at our old home in Virginia before we can
feel beyond the power of these dreadful red men."
"Why do you express that doubt, when it has been a good many years since
the people in our old homes have suffered from the Indians?"
"Not so long ago that I cannot remember it."
"But don't forget that you are seventeen years old--"
"Several months more, please to remember, sir."
"And you can remember, I suppose, a dozen years; that is a good while.
But it is not so bad as all that. Kenton explained matters yesterday
when I was talking with him. There is what is called a flurry among the
Indians, and as long as it lasts we must keep under the wing of some
block-house or in some settlement."
"But how long is it to last?"
"There is only One who can answer that question. It may be in a few
weeks, or months, or possibly a year or two. You know that such
expeditions as Crawford's and St. Clair's make matters worse than
before."
"Why?"
"Colonel Crawford, as you remember, was not only defeated, but he was
made prisoner and burned to death at the stake. Then President
Washington sent General St. Clair, and the combined tribes smote him hip
and thigh. All this makes the Indians bolder and more open in their
hostility, until I have no doubt that hundreds of them believe they are
strong enough to drive every white man out of Ohio and Kentucky."
"Why doesn't General Washington send some one who knows how to fight the
Indians, and with men enough to whip them?"
"St. Clair had enough men to whip the enemy, but the general didn't know
how to handle them when he got into the Indian country. You have learned
of the dreadful mistake that Braddock and his regulars made more than
thirty years ago, during the French and Indian war, when all of the
British soldiers would have been killed if it had not been for
Washington and his Virginians."
"I should think General Washington himself would take command of a
force. I know he would end all this trouble," added Agnes, with a glow
of pride in the illustrious Father of his Country.
"I have no doubt he would if he wasn't President; but he has to stay in
Philadelphia and make the other officers do their duty. But if he can't
come himself, he knows enough now to send the right men. The next battle
will see the Indians so badly whipped that they will stay so for many,
many years to come."
"And then?"
"Hundreds and thousands of people will come from the East and settle in
the West. The land will be cleared off and planted; cities and towns
will spring up, and that clearing of ours, with the other acres we shall
add, will make you and I wealthy, Agnes."
"It may make you wealthy, George; but how can it help me?"
He gave the dainty hand a warmer pressure than before and lowered his
voice, so that only the shell-like ear, so close to his own, could catch
his words.
"If it benefits me it must benefit you; for, God willing, long before
that time we shall be one. Am I wrong in that hope, dearest?"
"George," said Agnes, when they had walked a little further in silence,
"there is one prospect which causes me some discomfort."
"And what is that?"
"Of all our people being cooped up in the block-house for weeks, and
perhaps months, until the trouble with the Indians is over. We stopped
there the other day when we were coming down the river. It is a large,
roomy structure, but there is nothing beside the single building. A good
many men make their homes there at different times, and though they are
all as kind as they can be, it will be anything but pleasant when your
folks and ours are added to them."
"I don't wonder that you feel thus. The same thought has occurred to me
and Kenton, and I guess every one else. Some other arrangement will have
to be made. Captain Bushwick will have several strong cabins put up, if
it looks as though you will have to stay more than a few days, or he may
do better than that."
"How?"
"Send us all to Boonesboro. That's where the great Daniel Boone, that's
helping us just now, makes his home. It was named for him. It is a
regular stockade, with a number of cabins inside, and abundant room for
twenty families or more."
"How far off is it?"
"I am not sure, but less than fifty miles."
"Why not go there at once, without stopping at the block-house?"
"The trouble is that, if it would be safe to make the journey there now,
it would be just as safe to stay in our own house at the clearing. The
route leads through one of the most dangerous regions in Kentucky."
"If that is the case, how can we reach it from the block-house?"
"It will have to be done by awaiting some favorable chance; that chance,
as you know, isn't now, but it may come in a short time. Kenton or
Boone, or some of their men, will be quick to learn it."
Agnes was about to reply, when one of the rangers, who had wandered
somewhat ahead or to one side, emitted a cry that must have penetrated a
goodly part of a mile. His terrified friends stopped short, grasped
their rifles more tightly, and stared wonderingly at the man, who was
acting like a crazy person.
He had flung his gun aside, and caught up a heavy stick, with which he
was threshing something on the ground.
It required hardly a second glance from those who ran toward him to
recognize the writhing object as an immense rattlesnake. The man seemed
to be in a frenzy, and continued belaboring the reptile even after all
saw it was as dead as dead could be.
"What's the use, Jim?" called Hastings, who had hastened to return upon
hearing his wild shout; "he's gone under; did he bite you?"
"Yes," replied the other, in a husky voice staggering backward and
sinking to the ground; "he bit me twice before I seed him; I'm done
for."