SIMON KENTON IN A PANIC.
It was no surprise to Simon Kenton to learn that his old enemy, The
Panther, was at the head of the formidable war party that were plotting
with so much success against the pioneers. He had suspected the truth
before he learned it from Boone.
The fact removed the last vestige of suspicion any one might have held
as to the motive of the chieftain in failing to accept the challenge of
Kenton to mortal combat. Wa-on-mon had made haste to hunt up the war
party of Shawanoes that he must have known were in the vicinity, well
aware that with them at his beck and call he could strike a thousandfold
more effective blow than by the simple overthrow of Kenton, accompanied
by the disablement of himself.
The ferocious leader was perilously near success, and it looked as if
nothing could extricate the fugitives from destruction.
The reader need not be reminded that it was the presence and care of the
four females that was a mortal handicap to the brave men who had set out
to conduct them to the block-house up the river. Had they been already
there, the pioneers and rangers would have given the Shawanoes a hot
fight, and driven them off with the loss of more than one of their
bravest leaders.
From what has been already made known, it will be seen that it was not a
hard thing for a friend or enemy to enter the rough inclosure which had
been dignified with the name of fort. The discovery of the Shawanoe's
presence was in the nature of an accident; but for Agnes Altman he might
have wandered almost at will among the men on guard, and, having learned
all he had set out to learn, stole away without detection.
Kenton and Boone reversed the method when they appeared on the scene.
They had but to make themselves known (an easy matter, since they were
expected) to receive a welcome. At the same time they avoided detection
by the Indians, who were hovering on all sides.
It has been shown that, in a certain sense, one part of the
fortification was open, since nothing in the nature of a defence
interposed between it and the river. The presumption was, that in this
direction one would have a fair chance of stealing away undiscovered.
The fact, however, that such an opening presented itself was proof that
it was under close surveillance. Possibly, in the gloom, some of the
most skilful of the rangers, by swimming under water a long way, might
elude the vigilance of the Shawanoes, but the attempt would be fatal to
any one of the females, and to more than one of the men.
Kenton, Boone and Hastings held what might be considered a council of
war, since the fate to all concerned depended upon the result of the
conference.
"There seems but the one chance," remarked Boone, after each had
expressed his views, "and that's a powerful slim one."
"So must every chance be," commented Kenton.
"From what we've learned to-night any one of us three can sneak out of
this place and off in the woods. If that's so, what's to hinder two or
three doing it, by treading on each other's heels?"
"Nothin'," was the prompt response of Hastings.
"'Spose, then, that I try it to the right and Simon to the left; 'spose
that each of us takes two persons with him and that they are females?"
"And if you should get through the lines with 'em?" asked Hastings.
"That's all we want; once clear of the varmints, and with the better
part of the night afore us, the road to the block-house will be so clear
that sun-up will find us all there."
Kenton did not like this plan, and said so.
"It won't work," he asserted, with quiet emphasis. "You and me, Dan'l,
might get through the lines, 'cause we've both done it this very night,
but we couldn't take a woman or gal with us."
Boone held unlimited faith in the woodcraft of his friend, and meant to
leave the decision of the question with him. Kenton condemned the scheme
from the first; therefore it was abandoned.
"I've nothing more to offer," said the elder pioneer, disappointed by
the emphatic veto of the other; "there seems but one thing left for
us--to stay here and fight it out with the varmints to-morrow. We can
drop some of 'em, and mebbe The Panther will be among 'em, but there
won't be one of us left to rej'ice over his going under."
Kenton held his peace for several minutes. His companions knew he was
thinking intently and that something, desperate though it might be,
would come from it. Neither Boone nor Hastings could offer the first
suggestion; they could only wait for their athletic companion to counsel
or to act.
Without a word, Kenton rose to his feet.
The others did the same, even though their erect position offered a
tempting target to any prowling enemies who might succeed in entering
the inclosure.
"Dan'l, take my gun," said the younger ranger, impressively; "if I never
come back, keep it in remembrance of the many times you and Sime Kenton
have been on the trail together."
"I'll do it, Simon," replied Boone, accepting the weapon.
"But," interposed Hastings, with a nervousness he could not conceal,
"can't me and Boone be of help to you?"
"Not the least; I must go it alone this time."
"But let us know what you're going to try to do."
"When you and me were talking awhile ago, Hastings, you remember I said
there warn't no chance of stealing any canoe in these parts belonging to
the varmints; you remember that?"
"Of course."
"All the same I'm going after the canoe I seed crossing the Ohio just as
it was getting dark. I don't b'leve I'll get it, or if I do that I can
make any use of it."
Boone was impelled to interpose, for understanding the hopeless
character of the attempt, it distressed him unspeakably to have his
brave friend sacrifice himself. The elder, however, held his peace. He
knew that Kenton had weighed all the chances, and the time for protest
had passed.
"Stay right where you are," said the younger, moving as coolly and
deliberately as though making ready to retire for the night. "It ain't
likely the varmints will try to disturb you afore morning, but you know
better than to trust 'em. If I ain't back afore daylight you'll never
see me ag'in, and God help you all."
He wrung the hand of each in turn, and facing toward the river and
assuming a crouching posture, vanished as silently as a shadow in the
gloom, not another word falling from the lips of the two whom he had
left behind, until considerable time had elapsed.
Having stripped for the fray, as may be said, by leaving his cumbersome
rifle behind, Kenton approached the edge of the river with the utmost
circumspection. Suspecting, as he did, that the Shawanoes had left this
point open for the very purpose of inviting such an attempt as he had in
view, he was too wise to neglect every precaution to keep it secret. If
by any remote possibility he should succeed in his daring purpose, it
could only be by keeping his enemies in ignorance of his movements, at
least up to the point of decisive action on his part.
He therefore availed himself of every screen that could be used to hide
his body, and advanced for several rods, more after the fashion of a
serpent gliding over the ground than of a man stealing forward on his
hands and knees. More than a quarter of an hour was consumed in passing
this slight distance. Patience is a cardinal virtue with men of his
profession, a moment's undue haste often undoing the work of hours. When
at last he was able to reach out his hand and dip it in the cool waters,
he was quite certain that none of the Shawanoes suspected what he had
accomplished.
At this crisis several conditions united to help the intrepid scout. The
wind still blowing strongly up the river rustled the vegetation, and
whipped the surface of the river into wavelets that veiled other sounds,
and helped to conceal any disturbance of the water. A glance at the sky
showed the moon hidden by clouds, but the keen survey of Kenton told him
that they would soon float past the face of the orb, leaving it to shine
with greater strength than before. There was not a moment, therefore, to
spare.
He was still flat on the ground, not daring to raise his head more than
a few inches. With the same indescribable movement he glided from the
land into the water, sinking quietly and heavily below the surface as
though he were an iron statue.
Close to the shore the depth was shallow, but he secured enough freedom
of movement to work his way quickly into deep water, where he was at
home. Swimming with prodigious power and skill, wholly beneath the
surface, he turned on his back and allowed his nose to rise just high
enough to give him one deep inhalation, when he sank again.
With the water crinkled and disturbed by the strong wind, the
keenest-eyed Indian, peering out from the undergrowth along shore, would
have discovered nothing upon which to hinge the faintest suspicion.
After another long swim, without the power to breathe, Kenton allowed
his head to come up and opened his eyes.
As he anticipated, the moon was just emerging from the mass of drifting
clouds, and the increasing light, spreading over forest and river,
considerably extended his area of vision. Confident that his departure
was unknown to any of the lurking Shawanoe scouts, he scrutinized his
surroundings with more confidence than he would have felt had it been
otherwise.
He could trace the dark outline of the shore he had just left, or rather
the mass of trees and branches were clearly stamped against the
background of sky. Above and below rippled the river in the dim
moonlight, while a wall of indistinct blackness masked the Ohio shore.
Somewhere along the bank, which he had left but a brief while before,
nestled the canoe he had set out to find and bring to a point where it
could be used to help deliver the pioneers from their perilous
environment, and, without giving another thought to the impossibility of
success, he grimly resolved to do his utmost, no matter if certain death
was to be the result.
Prudence required him to wait until the moon was obscured. Masses of
vapor were continually passing in front of it, and he had to wait only a
few minutes when the gloom permitted the attempt.
With the same cool promptness he swam toward shore, until the distance
he had in mind was passed. Then carefully measuring the space, he sank
below the surface again. The precaution seemed unnecessary, but such
trifles sometimes decide the question of life and death. Not the
slightest misgiving remained, when he noiselessly raised his head
beneath the overhanging branches, that his departure and return were
suspected by a single Shawanoe.
And yet he was only on the threshold of his enterprise. The real work
now confronted him.
Having come in to shore at a point considerably above where he had left
it, Kenton hoped the canoe for which he was searching was below him. He
therefore decided to continue his hunt in that direction.
With the advantage gained, he required but a short time to do this, the
result being a mistake on his part. He saw nothing of the craft.
He was about to turn again when he looked out upon the river, where the
moon was shining with unobscured light.
He gave a start, and peered through the parted bushes a second time,
and, as he did so, he received the greatest shock of his life. Never
before or after that eventful night did he go through so astounding an
experience.
So terrified indeed was the brave ranger by what he saw, that, forgetful
of the Shawanoes, the imperiled fugitives, and everything except his own
panic, he dashed through the intervening space, and, bursting into the
inclosure where he had left his friends, called in a husky undertone:
"Boys, we're lost! we're lost! There's a ghost coming up the river!"