tranquillity of the day of rest, the settlers were entertaining a
neighboring family with a happy display of the best the house could
afford, with 'a streak of fat and a streak of lean.' While the
children of their guests were playing antic gambols about the door,
a scream of infantile alarm arrested the attention and deep interest
of the settlers. As the three males of the party snatched their arms,
the anticipated war-cry rang responsive in the precincts of the
cabin. The foremost of the assailants fell, and another shot wounded
and arrested the advance of the leading warrior, while the affrighted
mothers drew in their fugitive infants. As the cabin-door was closed
against the foe, a distracted mother saw her youngest child snatched
up by a retreating brave, while his comrades dragged off their dead
leader. A gun had been hastily charged, and the fearless Joplin,
having thrown open the door, drew it to his face; but the wary
savage held up, to shield his person, the little captive. 'Fire!'
screamed the distracted mother; 'better dead than a prisoner!' At the
critical instant when the little sufferer parted asunder its legs,
the sharp report of the rifle of the white man was heard, and the
crimson current, of a deeper hue than the painted skin of the savage,
rippled down his naked trunk. He reeled, and hesitated, and ere the
smoke of the rifle had blown away, the frantic mother, with knife in
hand, was seen flying to the rescue. The savage, cool and collected,
even in the agonies of death, interposed the infant between the
thrust of the Amazon and his person, and the unhappy mother plunged
her weapon into the bosom of her own child!
The warrior's knife closed the scene as he fell, and was bathed in
the heart's blood of the fearless woman, the wife of Joplin's nearest
neighbor. The Indians fled without a single scalp.
After the funeral obsequies of the mother and child had been hastily
performed, and they were consigned to the same unostentatious grave,
the neighboring settlers assembled, and rendezvoused at Joplin's
cabin. They elected him their captain. Here they continued during
the autumn and winter, with various fortune in sharp skirmishes with
their unrelenting and always vigilant enemy.
Early in the spring, they broke up their little settlement, and
retired back to the more populous part of the country. Captain Joplin
returned to the paternal mansion in the Piny Woods, to exhibit the
beginning of the third generation, in the person of young Buckeye
Joplin. After lingering awhile in his old haunts, and recounting the
perils he had cheerfully met and overcome, he looked out again upon
the land of promise, the western expanse, for another channel of
enterprise.
The second expedition of our hero was undertaken by water. Having
packed his family across to the Tennessee river, and exchanged
his 'nag' for a canoe, or 'dug-out,' he embarked in his long and
devious voyage to the Mississippi. Joplin occupied the stern as
steersman, but his spouse was provided with a paddle, which she
plied alternately with her knitting, as they glided onward to an
unknown land. The voyage was barren of incident, and only varied by
fishing and hunting for the subsistence of the family. They entered
the Mississippi, and descended this river to the mouth of White
river; and as this was backed up by the spring freshets, the voyagers
turned their course up the stream, and crossed the connecting cut,
or bayou, to the Arkansas river. They continued their voyage, until
they found a landing-place of an inviting aspect, near Little Rock.
Here the emigrants landed and pitched their half-face camp. After a
year or two of hardship and privation, incident to the settlement
of a new country, the Joplin family, somewhat increased in numbers,
began to enjoy the fruits of industry. The improved condition of the
captain's pecuniary affairs afforded him the means of indulging in
his ardent propensity for attendance on all the gatherings, which he
had never dismissed from his mind while his necessities restrained
him. In the absence of her husband, the pains-taking woman kept the
shuttle flying, or sung an accompaniment to the instrumental music of
the spinning-wheel. From these gatherings Joplin sometimes returned
with marks of personal rencounters; and time, and the soothing care
of the even-tempered woman, were requisite to soften the exasperated
backwoodsman, and to obliterate the signs of the feud on the
distorted visage of her husband. On these occasions, the ferocity of
his disposition predominated on the first day after the gathering;
on the second, he was moody and thoughtful; and the third brought on
repentance, and promises of reformation.
The great races at length came on; and Captain Joplin's colt,
sired by Chain-Lightning, out of the celebrated full-blooded dam
Earthquake, had been entered for the jockey purse, and the owner was
'obliged to be present.' This he promised should be his last race,
and his last fight on any race-course. The good woman ventured, as
she handed him his holy-day jeans, to urge his return home at an
earlier hour than usual. Very fair promises were made; but, about the
hour of midnight, the 'whole team of bear-dogs' opened a boisterous
greeting as the roistering captain approached his cabin. The cold
bacon, and cabbage, and buttermilk, were set out by the flickering
light of a _Corinthian_ tallow peach-wicked candle, and the meal was
despatched in silence. When the gentleman from Buncombe had picked
his teeth with his pocket-knife, he whispered an appalling secret in
the ear of his wife. She drew a long sigh of resignation, wiped her
eyes with a corner of her apron, and began packing his saddle-bags,
while Joseph Joplin cleaned his 'rifle-gun,' which he called 'Patsy,'
after his wife. He had finished trimming the bullets he had cast,
when, all things being ready, he rose to depart.
'Joseph Joplin,' said his wife, 'I always allowed it would come to
this; but the Lord's will be done!'
In reply, the captain briefly remarked:
'If he don't die of the stab I give him, Mike Target will pass me
word, when the boys go out into the bee-woods. I leave you every
thing but the colt and my bear-dog, _Gall-buster_; and, so as I never
comes back, tell the boys 'tis my wish that they never gives the lie,
nor takes it.'
The period of Joplin's absence was more than three years; during
which space of time his patient spouse kept up the monotonous music
of her wheel, and the regular vibrations of the shuttle. Her hearth
was kept warm and clean, and her children were amply clad in cleanly
attire, and well fed. Every Sunday was set apart for extra washing of
faces, combing of tow-heads, reading a chapter or two, and chanting a
hymn. She had rented her field, so as to secure her bread-stuffs; and
her little stock of cattle had increased, while they supplied milk
and butter for the subsistence of her children. Each tedious year
had she spun, wove, and made up for her absent husband a new suit of
jeans, which she hung in the cabin beside her own holiday apparel,
that she carefully abstained from wearing, until she could attire
herself and husband in their best, on some joyous day of meeting.
His Sunday hat hung on the hook where the breech of his rifle had
rested. Every day of rest she made it a point to brush the dust from
the smooth beaver, and drop a tear into the crown. From the day of
his departure, no account had ever been received of him. The sheriff,
with a rude posse, had searched the premises on the day after the
affray, and the neighboring country had been scoured in vain. The
racer had outstripped all pursuers, and the fugitive was secure in
the unexplored regions at the foot of the Ozark mountains.
The wounded sportsman who had defrauded our hero, contrary to the
most flattering hope, had been effectually cured of the wound that
Joplin, in his intoxicated rage, had inflicted. The wife, rejoicing
in this piece of good fortune, had resorted to every device within
the compass of female ingenuity to convey intelligence to the unknown
region, the abode of her husband; but she had almost despaired of
ever seeing him again, when an old bee-hunter disembarked from
his pirogue opposite her cabin, on the Arkansas river, to dry his
blankets after a hard storm. Of this old adventurer Mrs. Joplin
learned that he had met a trapper on the head waters of White river,
who called himself Griffin, and the description of his person induced
the fond wife to think it might be Captain Joplin himself. On his way
out to the bee-woods the following season, the old hunter carried
with him a letter to the following effect:
'DEER CAPTING JOE JOPLING; arter my best respects, hoping these
lines may find you: he arn't dead no more nor you and mee; you
mout come home, I reckon; the childrin all right smartly groin;
you would never know the baby.
'PATSY JOPLING, at the Piny Bend.'
Long and anxiously did the poor affectionate wife wait the return
of the father of her little brood, and often in the train of her
flattering imagination start as some stranger entered her cabin,
with the exclamation, 'I thought it was Capting Jopling!' In her
leisure moments, too, she was in the habit of fixing her ardent and
steady gaze on the point of rocks behind which she had seen him
depart. In all the torture of delay, not a reproachful exclamation
was ever uttered by the sufferer. A sigh hastily drawn, and a
rudely-constructed prayer, evinced the emotion she deeply felt. The
fond woman could perceive, as her children increased in growth,
strong resemblances of their father developed in every lineament. But
the likeness in 'the baby' was absolutely wonderful. 'If,' said she,
'little Joe was grown, and daddy war here present, they would never
know themselves apart.'
It was on one of those mild and sunny days of rest, in the Indian
Summer of autumn, that the wanderer returned. The careful mother was
surrounded with her children, and was, at the moment he entered the
cabin, giving the last touches to the flaxen locks of the youngest
child.
'You had as well give my hair a little combing, Patsy,' was the calm
salutation of our hero.
'Capting Joseph Jopling!' exclaimed the half-frantic wife, 'ar it you
at last!' She smoothed down the folds of her garments as she arose,
and, with a smile of welcome, as she gave her hand, said, 'Howdy,
Joseph?'
On a close and more deliberate scrutiny of his person, Patsy seemed
to think, with her husband, that his hair needed the comb. His locks
were matted together like the wool on the forehead of a buffalo; not
a comb or an intrusive pair of scissors had interrupted the wild
luxuriance of its growth, in a period of more than three years.
When his hat had given way to the irritation of cane-brakes and
green briars, and the peltings of the storms of summer and winter,
he had cultivated the covering with which nature had bountifully
provided his cranium. By occasional cropping of his locks with his
butcher-knife, as they grew out so as to obstruct his vision, he
left his upper-works with a singular aspect; and when the growth of
three years' beard is considered, with the bears' oil glistening on
its uncombed surface, it is not strange that his charitable wife
should give him some ironical compliments, such as these:
'Jopling, you're a beauty! Sally, bring the soap. Joseph, you are a
picture! The poor baby don't know its daddy; did he think daddy was
a painter? Get your daddy's razor out of mammy's box; put on the
tea-kettle, Sally, and heat some water, while I make up a pone of
bread. Josey, did you cook for yourself all this time?' and as she
bustled about, she began to sing a long-neglected air, to which she
had trod a measure in the joyous days of early youth, in the Piny
Woods of Buncombe.
The first six months after his return home, Captain Joplin was
diligently occupied in repairing his farm, which had fallen into a
slovenly condition. He was content with the society of his domestic
circle, and remained quietly at home. But, when the great annual
races came on, he was tempted to spend a day, only as a spectator, on
the track, and accordingly appeared there early on the first morning.
He had many acquaintances there, all of whom were thirsty beings; and
before the sun went down he felt rich, and generous, and glorious.
The ferocious stage of the disease came on after dark.
The return of the husband to his cabin that night was at an earlier
hour than usual. He was pale and nervous, and blood was on his
hand, and his garments were discolored. He notified his wife of
the necessity of his immediate departure. She insisted on leave to
accompany him, which was readily granted. Such of their effects as
could be speedily packed, were hastily put in portable form. In
an hour, the family were mounted on their riding animals, and in
the road leading down the river. Few words were exchanged among
the fugitives; and the place of destination was never mentioned.
On reaching the first ferry, at about the hour of midnight, they
turned shortly to the left, and crossed to the opposite bank of the
river, without requiring the aid of ferrymen. On landing, Joplin
scuttled and sunk the ferry-flat, to cut off pursuit. They continued
their route until about ten o'clock, with little regard to road or
trace; and having found a deep ravine, apparently untrodden by human
footsteps, they halted for refreshment. After a brief repast of
dried venison, the party continued their route, and at sunset were
fifty miles from their habitation. It should have been observed,
that the fugitives left their cabin in a blaze, with a hope that in
the neighborhood a belief would prevail that the whole family had
been consumed. To strengthen this belief, the cunning woodsman had
deposited the carcasses of two deer he had killed the day before,
and several joints of bacon, in the corner where the family usually
slept, that these might be mistaken for their bones. The impression
which it was policy to make, on examination of the ashes, obtained
currency to a great extent, and it delayed pursuit. When the doubts
that were entertained by some of the destination of the fugitives
finally induced search, it was too late to discover any trace of
the Joplin family. It was believed by many, who supposed they had
fled, that they departed down the river in the ferry-boat that had
disappeared.
In the mean time the flight was continued, until Joplin reached his
old haunts, in a cane-bottom on Flat Creek, a small tributary of
White River. Here security was made doubly sure by the bear-rough
that sheltered them, and by the distance they had removed from the
settlement in Arkansas. They had, moreover, taken the precaution to
locate within the boundaries of Missouri. The fugitive from justice
was likewise in the vicinity of a cave, known only to himself and the
red hunters who had formerly resided in this quarter of the country.
In this subterranean chamber, the dry bones from a neighboring
battle-field had been deposited by the tribe who had been the
greatest sufferers in a sanguinary conflict. As cheerless as this
place might appear, Joplin had reposed in it alone many nights on
his former visit to this region of country; and in this place he had
_cached_ his furs and peltries, which now constituted his surplus for
his new beginning in the world. The erection of a cabin was a task
not easily completed, without the aid of neighbors for the raising;
but, when the roof had been placed over their heads, and fastened
there with weight-poles, and the puncheons composing the floor laid
down, the mother of this little colony began to sing, and spin, and
bustle about over the irregular surface with cautious footsteps, and
stealthily, in her daily task. She had not forgotten the essential
portions of her wheel and loom in her departure from the ruin of her
old habitation, and the mechanical ingenuity of the woodsman, with
his axe, augur, hand-saw, and butcher-knife, supplied the deficiency.
The good woman continued still to indulge on Sunday in a clean apron,
a chapter, and a comb. These were luxuries she could not readily
dispense with. In his former visit to this wild region, Joplin
esteemed it no hardship to refrain from the use of bread-stuffs; but
he was constrained to make some apology to his wife and children for
the privation he would be obliged to impose, until he could raise a
crop. He however assured them, that with a mixture of bear-meat and
venison, and a 'sprinkle' of turkey-breast, they would do very well
without bread, provided they could get time to cut bee-trees.
This isolated family had innocence and contentment in full
possession, and independence prospectively within reach. The
disturber, known in the west by the name of 'long green' and 'blue
ruin,' in Pennsylvania, 'old rye' and 'cider royal,' and by the
Indians appropriately named 'fire-water,' and more emphatically
'fool-water,' was happily beyond their reach. The only race-path
known in this new settlement was that on which the husband and wife
contended for the prize of domestic comfort. In this, the fabrication
of jeans by one party, and the dressing of buck-skins by the other,
furnished profitable amusement. The only visit made by the daring
woodsman to the settlements secured him the patriarch of a flock,
and a few meek companions, from the fleeces of which 'the winter of
his discontent' was made comfortable. In their retreat, the Joplin
family were in a fair way to make their circumstances easy, by such
skill as is usually acquired in frontier experience, when a hard
winter, attended with much variable weather, set in earlier than
was anticipated. The woodsman had exerted himself violently in the
chase, to secure his supply of 'bear bacon,' while the Indian Summer
lasted. To this cause he attributed the 'dumb ague,' that laid him up
when the first snow-storm commenced. With this disease he lingered
a few weeks. The only medicine within reach of the settlers was a
small parcel of walnut pills. Whether the bark of which these were
composed had been scraped up or down the tree, so as to fit it for an
emetic or a cathartic, does not appear; but no relief was afforded
by administering even 'a double dose,' and he grew weaker as much
with the repetition as by discontinuance of the remedy. When he could
no longer rise without assistance, or stand alone, the anxious and
confiding wife inquired, for the first time, how far it might be
to the residence of the nearest neighbor. When she was told it was
one hundred and sixty miles, it is uncertain which predominated in
her mind, hope or despair. She continued silently and thoughtfully
to minister to his wants, to the extent of her circumscribed means,
until, when, late at night, the wintry winds were rudely perforating
the openings around the cabin-door, and the house-dogs growled a
dignified response to the dismal howlings of the wolf, the hoarse
death-rattle in the throat of the sufferer was perceived. This added
consternation to alarm. To the earnest and almost unconscious inquiry
now uttered by the trembling wife, 'Shall I send for a doctor?' no
answer was given. Her husband had expired!
The embarrassing position now occupied by the widow had never been
anticipated. If her strength could have overcome the resistance of
the hard-frozen earth that would enable her to say to the Indian
deity of the wilderness, 'With pious sacrilege a grave I stole,'
her force, and that of her infant children united, was insufficient
for the removal of the body. Widowed destitution was never more
complete. There was her dead husband on one side, and her weeping and
distracted babes on the other. A single night of bitter wakefulness
and watching was the last that she ventured to linger out in her
dreary abode; and it seemed to her an eternity of darkness. Early on
the morning after the death of her husband, the lone widow packed
up a supply of provision, and, with her children, mounted, left her
cabin and unburied husband to search for a neighbor. She carried
the rifle with her, in order to make fire at her encampments on the
journey. On closing the door on the house of mourning, the distress
of parting was made doubly agonizing by an inquiry of one of the
children, made in these words: 'Are you going to leave daddy?'
The first day's route lay up through the valley, and along the
bank of the creek on which her dwelling was situated; and she was
therefore guided by it. After the first night's encampment, where
she had been surrounded with wolves, and nervously agitated by their
howlings, and occasionally the startling scream of a panther, she
resumed her journey. The little family of wanderers had marched a
short distance from their place of lodging, when all knowledge of
their route failed. After wandering sometimes in one direction, and
then retracing their steps and striking off at some other point of
the compass, the bewildered mother encamped for the second night.
The next morning the half-distracted traveller determined to retrace
her steps. Two days brought her back to the dreary and desolate
abode. The cabin was surrounded with a snarling pack of wolves,
which were contending for the remains of her little flock of sheep.
These were scared away by the faithful dogs that had followed the
family. The interior presented the frightful evidence of mortality.
A cat had made horrid inroads on the face of the deceased, and was
still feeding on the mutilated corpse! The necessity of burial was in
no manner diminished by this horrid spectacle. The afflicted woman
scarcely knew why she had returned. She passed another long winter
night in her house of mourning, hovering with her little brood around
the cheerless hearth.
When morning at last arrived, the family again departed, having
confined the cat under a tub, to prevent a repetition of her cannibal
feast. After a journey of five days in a southwardly direction, and
when the widow began to hope she was approaching a settlement, she
was cheered with the view of smoke arising from a hunter's camp. He
was out in search of game, but there was an abundance of venison
hanging over the embers of his camp fire. This proved a seasonable
supply, for the poor woman had that morning given the last morsel of
her stock of food to her children, while she piously fasted herself.
The hunter was as much gratified, on his return to his camp that
evening, to find it so well peopled, as he had been in the successful
hunt of the day. The hospitality of the camp was profusely urged
upon the strangers, and bear-meat, venison, and turkey, and elk
marrow-bones, were proffered with the frank and liberal manner of a
woodsman.