CARRYING THE WAR INTO AFRICA.
Jethro Juggens, the brawny servant of Mr. Altman, the dusky youth with
the strength of a Hercules, the intellect of a child, or a skill in the
use of the rifle hardly second to that of Kenton and Boone, has a
singular but momentous part to play in the incidents that follow. The
reader must, therefore, bear with us when now and then we turn aside
from the graver and more tragical sweep of incidents to follow the
doings and the fortunes and misfortunes of the one who rendered such
signal service to his friends, already related in "Shod with Silence."
Simon Kenton denounced himself times without number for bringing Jethro
with him when he set out to recover the canoe that had been left at the
clearing; and yet that act, ill-advised as it seemed, changed the whole
course of events that followed quick and fast, and became the foundation
of one of the most remarkable legends connected with the romantic Ohio
and the stirring events that marked the history of the settlement of
Ohio and Kentucky.
With no thought of the mischief he was likely to cause, Jethro Juggens,
as the reader has learned, circled part way round the cabin in the
clearing, passed through the door, drew in the latch-string, devoured
nearly all of the bread that was left behind, and then lay down and went
to sleep.
He had managed to gain so much slumber during the past twenty-four hours
that he was in need of nothing of the kind. As a consequence, he
remained unconscious less than an hour, when he opened his eyes, as
fully awake as he ever was in all his life.
The room was in darkness, and he was so confused that for a brief spell
he was at a loss to know where he was. Rising to a sitting position, he
rubbed his eyes and stared around in the gloom.
"Am dis de flatboat, and am I in de cellar ob it?" he asked himself.
But a moment's reflection recalled what had taken place.
"Gracious! I wonder if anyting hab happened to Mr. Kenton?" he
exclaimed, starting to his feet and stumbling headlong over one of the
boxes, unnoticed in the gloom.
"Dar's no tellin' what trouble he may get into widout me watchin' and
tookin' keer ob him. I's afraid I'm too late to help him."
He would have opened the door and hurried out, but at that moment his
keen nostrils caught the appetizing odor of the loaves of bread, amid
which he had created havoc a short time before.
"I hab an obspression dat I done eat some ob dat afore I took a nap, but
I ain't certain; don't want to make any mistake, and I feels sorter
hungry."
There was enough food left to furnish him another good meal, and he did
not stop using his peerless teeth and massive jaws until he had secured
it.
His rifle was leaning against the wall near the door, where he had left
it. He took it in hand, with the intention of opening the door and
passing out, when the first real thrill of alarm stirred him. He heard
some one attempting to open the door.
He knew it was an enemy, for Kenton, the only friend he had in the
neighborhood, would never come there to look for him.
The latch-string being drawn in, it was impossible for the door to be
opened, except by great labor from the outside. Nevertheless, some one
was pushing at it repeatedly, and with such vigor that there could be no
mistake about it.
"Who dar?" demanded Jethro, in his deepest voice, holding his rifle
ready to use it in case the Indian effected an entrance.
There was no answer, but the efforts on the outside ceased for a minute,
to be resumed more guardedly than at first.
"Go way from der, I toles yo' or yo'll get into trouble," called the
youth, in a louder voice, meant to be as threatening as he could make
it.
Again the pushing ceased, and all became still.
Jethro heard the wind blowing strongly around the cabin and among the
trees beyond. Standing in the open clearing, as did the cabin, no shadow
was cast upon it. The narrow windows, therefore, were clearly outlined
against the dim moonlight. The youth glanced furtively at them,
comprehending more fully than at any time before the sad mistake he had
made in disobeying the orders of Kenton. But for that he would not have
been in his present plight.
But it was too late for regrets to avail him. All he could do was to
fight it out as best he knew how to the end.
Stepping nearer the door, he bent his head and listened. The pressure
against the structure had ceased, but he caught the murmur of voices
when a few broken sentences were uttered. Their meaning, of course, was
beyond his reach.
"Why don't dey be gemmen?" he asked himself, "or talk in American, so
dat anoder gemmen can understand 'em? I don't know what dey's talkin'
'bout, and it sounds as if dey don't know demselves."
He could understand, however, that no immediate cause for fear existed.
A dozen brawny Shawanoes could not force the door, and the windows, as
has been explained, were too narrow for any one to push his body
through.
But, all the same, some mischief was afoot at one of the rear
window's--the one into which Jethro Juggens had fired that very day with
fatal effect. The disturbance was transferred from the door to the
window.
The youth was standing in the middle of the lower apartment, gun in
hand, watching and listening. The moon was so placed in the heavens that
this particular opening was seen more clearly than any of the others,
and peering intently at it, Jethro became conscious of some dark object
that was slowly obtruding into his field of vision.
"What de mischief am dat?" he muttered. "Looks like a hobblegoblin, but
I knows it am an Injin."
Dimly seen in the partial illumination, the resemblance to the head of a
warrior was so close that all doubt was removed from the mind of Jethro
Juggens.
"Dat's what I's waiting for," was his thought, as he brought his piece
to a level, took the best aim he could in the darkness, and let fly.
The report within the close room was so thunderous that his ears
tingled, but confident of the accuracy of his shot, he looked through
the smoke at the moonlit opening.
"I didn't hear no yell, but I reckoned dat blowed de top ob his head off
afore he could let out de war-whoop dat Mr. Kenton says an Injin always
gibs when he cotches his last sickness--gracious hebbins! how's dat?"
Could he believe his eyes? The head at which he had fired only a few
feet away had not vanished. There it was, the owner apparently staring
in upon him, with the same interest he had shown from the first.
"Dat beats all creation! I knowed I hit him, 'cause I couldn't miss him
if I tried. He must had a head as hard as mine--"
If Jethro Juggens was astounded by what had just occurred, he was almost
lifted off his feet by what followed before he finished the expression
of the thought that was in his mind. Through the narrow window at which
he was gazing the muzzle of a gun was thrust and the weapon discharged,
the ball passing so close that he felt it nip his ear.
With a howl of dismay the youth leaped a foot in the air and to one
side. No one could have had a narrower escape than he, and he knew it.
"Tings are gettin' mixed most obstrageously," he muttered, stepping
nearer to one side of the room and proceeding to reload his gun as best
he could in the darkness.
Much as Jethro had blundered, and obtuse as he was in many things, he
understood what had taken place. That which he supposed to be the head
of an Indian was some object presented by the crouching warrior with the
purpose of drawing his fire, and it succeeded in doing so. The flash of
the negro's rifle revealed where he stood, and the Shawanoe, who was
watching for that clew, lost no time in firing, missing by a
hair's-breadth a fatal result. Thus it came about that not the least
execution was done on either side.
Jethro waited some minutes in order to discover the next movement of his
enemies. Nothing presenting itself, he had resort to the dangerous
expedient of trying to peer through the different windows. Being
enveloped in impenetrable gloom, he could not have been seen by the
Indians had they been on the watch, though possibly they might have
heard him. As it was, no shot was fired at him, nor was he able to
detect anything that could give him the least information of what his
enemies were doing, or what they intended to do. They may have been
quite near, but he could not get the first glimpse of them.
"Dis yeah am gettin' ser'us," mused Jethro, leaning against the side of
the house in order to think more clearly. "I's afeard dat somethin' may
happen to Mr. Kenton, and if it does and he can't get back, nor me
neither, what's goin' to become of de folks? I 'spose dey am most
worried to def now."
[Illustration: JETHRO IN TROUBLE.]
Since it looked as if it would be impossible for him to leave the cabin
for an indefinite time, the anxiety of the dusky youth to do so
increased with every passing minute, until he formed the resolution to
make the attempt, no matter what the consequences might prove to
himself.
A dispassionate view of the situation would have pronounced Jethro as
useful to the pioneers in one place as in another. Possibly, it might
have been decided that it was better that he should remain away so long
as the peril remained imminent, despite the fact that he had already
done them most effective service.
Jethro could not so far forget the first law of human nature as not to
debate and hesitate for a considerable while before taking the decisive
step.
"I might leave de door open," he reflected, "so dat if any ob de heathen
are hangin' round de outside waitin' for a chance to shet me off, I kin
dodge back and slam de door in dar faces. Ef I don't see 'em till I git
too fur to run back, I kin dive into de woods or hide."
All this sounded well enough in theory, but the young man could not lose
sight of one thing: in point of fleetness he could not compare with any
of the Shawanoes. They could run him down, as may be said, in a
twinkling.
It was impossible for one so inexperienced as he to form a reasonable
guess of the intentions of the red men. It was curious, to say the
least, that one or two of them should linger in the vicinity of the
cabin after the departure of the pioneers for the block-house. Even
Simon Kenton could not have guessed their purpose.
"Dey couldn't hab seed me go in," thought Jethro, "for, if dey did, dey
would hab hollered to me and asked me who I was lookin' fur; I'd gib 'em
some sass, and den dar would hab been a row and some ha'r pullin'."
The youth leaned against the side of the apartment a brief while longer
in intense cogitation, and then sighed.
"I ain't used to tinkin' so hard as dis; it exhorsts me."
To remedy which he groped his way to the huge bread box, a few paces
away. There was enough, left to furnish a person of ordinary appetite
with a good meal, but, when he ceased, nothing was left.
"Umph! dat rewives me; I feel stronger now--I'll do a little more hard
tinkin'--graciousnation, I's got it!" he exclaimed, leaping from the
floor in exultation; "why didn't I tink ob it afore? I'll hold one ob
dese boxes ober me, so dey can't see nuffin' ob me, and den walk out ob
de house and straight 'cross de clearin' to de woods. When I got dar,
I'll flung de box off en run! Dat's de plan, suah I's born!"