A HERALD BY WATER
The start from Louisville was made and the great expedition began among
the cheers of the women and children of the little place and from the
men who were left behind. Most of the army were in boats which also
carried great quantities of arms, ammunition and food. All of the little
settlements buried in the deep woods of Kentucky, though exposed at any
time to sudden and terrible raids, had sent volunteers. They took the
risk nevertheless, and dispatched their best to the redoubtable hero,
George Rogers Clark. Few people have ever given more supreme examples of
dauntless courage and self-sacrifice than these borderers. Tiny outposts
only, they never failed to respond to the cry for help. There was
scarcely a family which did not lose someone under the Indian tomahawk,
but their courage never faltered, though for nearly twenty years no man
was safe a single hour from savage ambush. They stood fast and endured
everything.
Henry, Paul and their comrades were not in the boats, but were with
Daniel Boone who led a party of the best scouts on the southern shore.
It was not only their business to find their enemy if he should be
there, but to clear him out, unless he were in too great force, and it
was a task that required supreme skill and caution. Throughout its whole
course dense forests grew along the Ohio, and an ambush might be planted
anywhere. The foliage was still thick and heavy on the trees, as it was
not yet August, and one seldom saw more than a hundred yards ahead.
The boats, keeping near the southern shore where their flank was
protected by Boone's scouts, started, the sunlight streaming down upon
them and the water flashing from their oars. The scouts had already gone
on ahead, and the five were among the foremost. In a few minutes the
last sign of the new settlement disappeared and they were in the
wilderness. At Boone's orders the scouts formed in small bodies,
covering at least two miles from the river. The five formed one of these
little groups, and they began their work with zeal and skill. No enemy
in the underbrush could have escaped their notice, but the whole day
passed without a sign of a foe. When night came on they saw the boats
draw into a cove on the southern bank, and, after a conference with
Boone, they spread their blankets again under the trees, the watch not
falling to their share until the following night. Having eaten from the
food which they carried in knapsacks they looked contentedly at the
river.
"Well, this will be twice that we have gone up the Ohio, once on the
water, and once on the shore," said Paul. "But as before we have
Timmendiquas to face."
"That's so," said Shif'less Sol, "but I'm thinkin' that nothin' much
will happen, until we get up toward the mouth of the Lickin'. It's been
only two nights since Timmendiquas hisself was spyin' us out, an' afore
he strikes he's got to go back to his main force."
"Mebbe so an' mebbe not," said Tom Ross. "My eyes ain't so bad and this
bein' a good place to look from I think I see a canoe over thar right
under the fur shore uv the Ohio. Jest look along thar, Henry, whar the
bank kinder rises up."
The point that Tom indicated was at least a mile away, but Henry agreed
with him that a shape resembling a canoe lay close to the bank.
Shif'less Sol and the others inclined to the same belief.
"If so, it's a scout boat watching us," said Paul, "and Timmendiquas
himself may be in it."
Henry shook his head.
"It isn't likely," he said. "Timmendiquas knows all that he wants to
know, and is now going northeastward as fast as he can. But his warriors
are there. Look! You can see beyond a doubt now that it is a canoe, and
it's going up the river at full speed."
The canoe shot from the shadow of the bank. Apparently it contained
three or four Indians, and they had strong arms. So it sped over the
water and against the current at a great rate.
"They've seen all they want to see to-night," said Henry, "but that
canoe and maybe others will be watching us all the way."
A half hour later a light appeared in the northern woods and then
another much further on. Doubtless the chain was continued by more, too
far away for them to see. The men in the main camp saw them also, and
understood. Every foot of their advance would be watched until the
Indian army grew strong enough, when it would be attacked. Yet their
zeal and courage rose the higher. They begged Clark to start again at
dawn that no time might be lost. Boone joined the five under the tree.
"You saw the lights, didn't you, boys?" he said.
"We saw them," replied Henry, "and we know what they mean. Don't you
think, Mr. Boone, that for a while the most dangerous part of the work
will fall on you?"
"Upon those with me an' myself," replied Boone in his gentle manner,
"but all of us are used to it."
For two successive nights they saw the fiery signals on the northern
shore, carrying the news into the deep woods that the Kentucky army was
advancing. But they were not molested by any skirmishers. Not a single
shot was fired. The fact was contrary to the custom of Indian warfare,
and Henry saw in it the wisdom and restraint of Timmendiquas. Indians
generally attack on impulse and without system, but now they were
wasting nothing in useless skirmishing. Not until all the warriors were
gathered, and the time was ripe would Timmendiquas attempt the blow.
It gave the little white army a peculiar feeling. The men knew all the
time that they were being watched, yet they saw no human being save
themselves. Boone's scouts found the trail of Indians several times, but
never an Indian himself. Yet they continued their patient scouting. They
did not intend that the army should fall into an ambush through any
fault of theirs. Thus they proceeded day after day, slowly up the river,
replenishing their supplies with game which was abundant everywhere.
They came to the wide and deep mouth of the Kentucky, a splendid stream
flowing from the Alleghany Mountains, and thence across the heart of
Kentucky into the Ohio. Henry thought that its passage might be
disputed, and the five, Boone, Thomas and some others crossed cautiously
in one of the larger boats. They watched to see anything unusual stir in
the thickets on the farther shore of the Kentucky, but no warrior was
there. Timmendiquas was not yet ready, and now the land portion of the
army was also on the further shore, and the march still went on
uninterrupted. Paul began to believe that Timmendiquas was not able to
bring the warriors to the Ohio; that they would stand on the defensive
at their own villages. But Henry was of another opinion, and he soon
told it.
"Timmendiquas would never have come down to Louisville to look us over,"
he said, "if he meant merely to act on the defensive at places two or
three hundred miles away. No, Paul, we'll hear from him while we're
still on the river, and I think it will be before Logan will join us."
Boone and Thomas took the same view, and now the scouting party doubled
its vigilance.
"To-morrow morning," said Boone, "we'll come to the Licking. There are
always more Indians along that river than any other in Kentucky and I
wish Logan and his men were already with us."
The face of the great frontiersman clouded.
"The Indians have been too peaceful an' easy," he resumed. "Not a shot
has been fired since we left Louisville an' now we're nearly to
Tuentahahewaghta (the site of Cincinnati, that is, the landing or place
where the road leads to the river). It means that Timmendiquas has been
massing his warriors for a great stroke."
Reasoning from the circumstances and his knowledge of Indian nature,
Henry believed that Daniel Boone was right, yet he had confidence in the
result. Seven hundred trained borderers were not easily beaten, even if
Logan and the other three hundred should not come. Yet he and Boone and
all the band knew that the watch that night must miss nothing. The
boats, as usual, were drawn up on the southern shore, too far away to be
reached by rifle shots from the northern banks. The men were camped on a
low wooded hill within a ring of at least fifty sentinels. The Licking,
a narrow but deep stream, was not more than five miles ahead. Clark
would have gone on to its mouth, had he not deemed it unwise to march at
night in such a dangerous country. The night itself was black with
heavy, low clouds, and the need to lie still in a strong position was
obvious.
Boone spread out his scouts in advance. The five, staying together as
usual, and now acting independently, advanced through the woods near the
Ohio. It was one of the hottest of July nights, and nature was restless
and uneasy. The low clouds increased in number, and continually grew
larger until they fused into one, and covered the heavens with a black
blanket from horizon to horizon. From a point far off in the southwest
came the low but menacing mutter of thunder. At distant intervals,
lightning would cut the sky in a swift, vivid stroke. The black woods
would stand out in every detail for a moment, and they would catch
glimpses of the river's surface turned to fiery red. Then the night
closed down again, thicker and darker than ever, and any object twenty
yards before them would become only a part of the black blur. A light
wind moaned among the trees, weirdly and without stopping.
"It's a bad night for Colonel Clark's army," said Shif'less Sol. "Thar
ain't any use o' our tryin' to hide the fact from one another, 'cause we
all know it."
"That's so, Sol," said Long Jim Hart, "but we've got to watch all the
better 'cause of it. I've knowed you a long time, Solomon Hyde, an'
you're a lazy, shiftless, ornery, contrary critter, but somehow or other
the bigger the danger the better you be, an' I think that's what's
happenin' now."
If it had not been so dark Long Jim would have seen Shif'less Sol's
pleased grin. Moreover the words of Jim Hart were true. The spirit of
the shiftless one, great borderer that he was, rose to the crisis, but
he said nothing. The little group continued to advance, keeping a couple
of hundred yards or so from the bank of the Ohio, and stopping every ten
or twelve minutes to listen. On such a night ears were of more use than
eyes.
The forest grew more dense as they advanced. It consisted chiefly of
heavy beech and oak, with scattered underbrush of spice wood and pawpaw.
It was the underbrush particularly that annoyed, since it offered the
best hiding for a foe in ambush. Henry prayed for the moon and the
stars, but both moon and stars remained on the other side of
impenetrable clouds. It was only by the occasional flashes of lightning
that they saw clearly and then it was but a fleeting glimpse. But it was
uncommonly vivid lightning. They noticed that it always touched both
forest and river with red fire, and the weird moaning of the wind,
crying like a dirge, never ceased. It greatly affected the nerves of
Paul, the most sensitive of the five, but the others, too, were affected
by it.
Henry turned his attention for a while from the forest to the river. He
sought to see by the flashes of lightning if anything moved there, and,
when they were about half way to the mouth of the Licking, he believed
that he caught sight of something in the shape of a canoe, hovering near
the farther shore. He asked them all to watch at the point he indicated
until the next flash of lightning came. It was a full minute until the
electric blade cut the heavens once more, but they were all watching and
there was the dark shape. When the five compared opinions they were sure
that it was moving slowly northward.
"It's significant," said Henry. "Daniel Boone isn't often mistaken, and
the warriors are drawing in. We'll be fighting before dawn, boys."
"An' it's for us to find out when an' whar the attack will come," said
Shif'less Sol.
"We're certainly going to try," said Henry. "Hark! What was that?"
"Injuns walkin' an' talkin'," said Tom Ross.
Henry listened, and he felt sure that Ross was right. Under his
leadership they darted into a dense clump of pawpaws and lay motionless,
thankful that such good shelter was close at hand. The footsteps, light,
but now heard distinctly, drew nearer.
Henry had a sure instinct about those who were coming. He saw Braxton
Wyatt, Blackstaffe, and at least twenty warriors emerge into view. The
night was still as dark as ever, but the band was so near that the
hidden five could see the features of every man. Henry knew by their
paint that the warriors belonged to different tribes. Wyandots, Miamis,
Shawnees, and Delawares were represented. Wyatt and Blackstaffe were
talking. Henry gathered from the scattered words he heard that
Blackstaffe doubted the wisdom of an attack, but Wyatt was eager for it.
"I was at Wyoming," said the younger renegade with a vicious snap of his
teeth, "and it was the rush there that did it. We enveloped them on both
front and flank and rushed in with such force that we beat them down in
a few minutes. Nor did many have a chance to escape."
"But they were mostly old men and boys," said Blackstaffe, "and they had
little experience in fighting the tribes. Clark has a bigger force here,
and they are all borderers. You know how these Kentuckians can use the
rifle."
Wyatt made a reply, but Henry could not hear it as the two renegades and
the warriors passed on in the underbrush. But he did hear the click of a
gun lock and he quickly pushed down the hand of Shif'less Sol.
"Not now! not now, Sol!" he whispered. "Wyatt and Blackstaffe deserve
death many times over, but if you fire they'd all be on us in a whoop,
and then we'd be of no further use."
"You're right, Henry," said the shiftless one, "but my blood was mighty
hot for a minute."
The band disappeared, turning off toward the south, and the five,
feeling that they had now gone far enough, returned to the camp. On the
way they met Boone and the remainder of the scouts. Henry told what they
had seen and heard and the great frontiersman agreed with them that the
attack was at hand.
"You saw the war paint of four nations," he said, "an' that proves that
a great force is here. I tell you I wish I knew about Logan, an' the
men that are comin' down the Lickin'."
It was now nearly midnight and they found Colonel Clark sitting under a
tree at the eastern edge of the camp. He listened with the greatest
attention to every detail that they could give him, and then his jaw
seemed to stiffen.
"You have done well, lads," he said. "There is nothing more dangerous
than the calling of a scout in the Indian wars, but not one of you has
ever shirked it. You have warned us and now we are willing for
Timmendiquas and Girty to attack whenever they choose."
Many of the men were asleep, but Clark did not awaken them. He knew
fully the value of rest, and they were borderers who would spring to
their feet at the first alarm, alive in every sense and muscle. But at
least a third of his force was on guard. No attack was feared on the
water. Nevertheless many of the men were there with the boats. It was,
however, the semicircle through the forest about the camp that was made
thick and strong. Throughout its whole course the frontiersmen stood
close together and keen eyes and trained ears noted everything that
passed in the forest.
Henry and his four comrades were at the point of the segment nearest to
the confluence of the Ohio and the Licking. Here they sat upon the
ground in a close group in the underbrush, speaking but rarely, while
time passed slowly. The character of the night had not changed. The
solemn wind never ceased to moan among the trees, and far off in the
west the thunder yet muttered. The strokes of lightning were far
between, but as before they cast a blood red tinge over forest and
river. The five were some hundreds of yards beyond the camp, and they
could see nothing then, although they heard now and then the rattle of
arms and a word or two from the officers. Once they heard the sound of
heavy wheels, and they knew that the cannon had been wheeled into
position. Clark had even been able to secure light artillery for his
great expedition.
"Do you think them big guns will be of any use?" asked Shif'less Sol.
"Not at night," replied Henry, "but in the daytime if we come to close
quarters they'll certainly say something worth hearing."
It was now nearly half way between midnight and morning when the
vitality is lowest. Paul, as he lay among the pawpaws, was growing very
sleepy. He had not moved for so long a time and the night was so warm
that his eyes had an almost invincible tendency to close, but his will
did not permit it. Despite the long silence he had no doubt that the
attack would come. So he looked eagerly into the forest every time the
lightning flashed, and always he strained his ears that he might hear,
if anything was to be heard.
The melancholy wind died, and the air became close, hot and heavy. The
leaves ceased to move, and there was no stir in the bushes, but Henry
thought that he heard a faint sound. He made a warning gesture to his
companions, and they, too, seemed to hear the same noise. All of Paul's
sleepiness disappeared. He sat up, every nerve and muscle attuned for
the crisis. Henry and he, at almost the same moment, saw the bushes move
in front of them. Then they saw the bronze faces with the scalp lock
above them, peering forth. The five sat perfectly silent for a few
moments and more bronze faces appeared. The gaze of one of the Indians
wandered toward the clump of pawpaws, and he saw there one of the five
who had now risen a little higher than the rest to look. He knew that it
was a white face, and, firing instantly at it, he uttered the long and
thrilling war whoop. It was the opening cry of the battle.
The five at once returned the fire and with deadly effect. Two of the
warriors fell, and the rest leaped back, still shouting their war cry,
which was taken up and repeated in volume at a hundred points. Far above
the forest it swelled, a terrible wolfish cry, fiercest of all on its
dying note. From river and deep woods came the echo, and the warriors in
multitudes rushed forward upon the camp.
Henry and his comrades when they discharged their rifles ran back toward
the main force, reloading as they ran. The air was filled with terrible
cries and behind them dark forms swarmed forward, running and bounding.
From trees and underbrush came a hail of rifle bullets that whistled
around the five, but which luckily did nothing save to clip their
clothing and to sing an unpleasant song in their ears. Yet they had
never run faster, not from fear, but because it was the proper thing to
do. They had uncovered the enemy and their work as scouts was over.
They were back on the camp and among the frontiersmen, in less than a
minute. Now they wheeled about, and, with rifles loaded freshly, faced
the foe who pressed forward in a great horde, yelling and firing. Well
it was for the white army that it was composed of veteran borderers. The
sight was appalling to the last degree. The defenders were ringed around
by flashes of fire, and hundreds of hideous forms leaped as if in the
war dance, brandishing their tomahawks. But Colonel Clark was everywhere
among his men, shouting to them to stand fast, not to be frightened by
the war whoop, and that now was the time to win a victory. Boone, Abe
Thomas and the five gave him great help.
The riflemen stood firm in their semicircle, each end of it resting upon
the river. Most of them threw themselves upon the ground, and, while the
bullets whistled over their heads, poured forth an answering fire that
sent many a warrior to explore the great hereafter. Yet the tribes
pressed in with uncommon courage, charging like white men, while their
great chiefs Timmendiquas, Red Eagle, Black Panther, Moluntha, Captain
Pipe and the others led them on. They rushed directly into the faces of
the borderers, leaping forward in hundreds, shouting the war whoop and
now and then cutting down a foe. The darkness was still heavy and close,
but it was lit up by the incessant flashes of the rifles. The smoke from
the firing, with no breeze to drive it away, hung low in a dense bank
that stung the mouths and nostrils of the combatants.
"Keep low, Paul! Keep low!" cried Henry, dragging his young comrade down
among some spicewood bushes. "If you are bound to stick your head up
like that it will be stopping a tomahawk soon."
Paul did not have to wait for the truth of Henry's words, as a shining
blade whizzed directly where his head had been, and, passing on,
imbedded itself in the trunk of a mighty beech. Paul shuddered. It
seemed to him that he felt a hot wind from the tomahawk as it flew by.
In his zeal and excitement he had forgotten the danger for a moment or
two, and once more Henry had saved his life.
"I wish it would grow lighter," muttered Shif'less Sol. "It's hard to
tell your friends from your enemies on a black night like this, and
we'll be all mixed up soon."
"We five at least must keep close together," said Henry.
A fierce yell of victory came from the southern side of the camp, a yell
that was poured from Indian throats, and every one of the five felt
apprehension. Could their line be driven in? Driven in it was! Fifty
Wyandots and as many Shawnees under Moluntha, the most daring of their
war chiefs, crashed suddenly against the weakest part of the half
circle. Firing a heavy volley they had rushed in with the tomahawk, and
the defenders, meeting them with clubbed rifles, were driven back by the
fury of the attack and the weight of numbers. There was a confused and
terrible medley of shouts and cries, of thudding tomahawks and rifle
butts, of crashing brushwood and falling bodies. It was all in the hot
dark, until the lightning suddenly flared with terrifying brightness.
Then it disclosed the strained faces of white and red, the sweat
standing out on tanned brows, and the bushes torn and trampled in the
wild struggle. The red blaze passed and the night shot down in its place
as thick and dark as ever. Neither red men nor white were able to drive
back the others. In this bank of darkness the cries increased, and the
cloud of smoke grew steadily.
It was not only well that these men were tried woodsmen, but it was
equally well that they were led by a great wilderness chief. George
Rogers Clark saw at once the point of extreme danger, and, summoning his
best men, he rushed to the rescue. The five heard the call. Knowing its
urgency, they left the spicewood and swept down with the helping band.
Another flash of lightning showed where friends and foe fought face to
face with tomahawk and clubbed rifle, and then Clark and the new force
were upon the warriors. Paul, carried away by excitement, was shouting:
"Give it to 'em! Give it to 'em! Drive 'em back!"
But he did not know that he was uttering a word. He saw the high cheek
bones and close-set eyes, and then he felt the shock as they struck the
hostile line. Steel and clubbed rifle only were used first. They did not
dare fire at such close quarters as friend and foe were mingled closely,
but the warriors were pushed back by the new weight hurled upon them,
and then the woodsmen, waiting until the next flash of lightning, sent
in a volley that drove the Indians to the cover of the forest. The
attack at that point had failed, and the white line was yet complete.
Once more the five threw themselves down gasping among the bushes,
reloaded their rifles and waited. In front of them was silence. The
enemy there had melted away without a sound, and he too lay hidden, but
from left and right the firing and the shouting came with undiminished
violence. Henry, also, at the same time heard in all the terrible uproar
the distant and low muttering of the thunder, like a menacing
under-note, more awful than the firing itself. The smoke reached them
where they lay. It was floating now all through the forest, and not only
stung the nostrils of the defenders, but heated their brains and made
them more anxious for the combat.
"We were just in time," said Shif'less Sol. "Ef Colonel Clark hadn't led
a hundred or so o' us on the run to this place the warriors would hev
been right in the middle o' the camp, smashin' us to pieces. How they
fight!"
"Their chiefs think this army must be destroyed and they're risking
everything," said Henry. "Girty must be here, too, urging them on,
although he's not likely to expose his own body much."
"But he's a real gen'ral an' a pow'ful help to the Injuns," said Tom
Ross.
Clark's summons came again. The sound on the flank indicated that the
line was being driven in at another point to the eastward, and the
"chosen hundred," as the shiftless one called them, were hurled against
the assailants, who were here mostly Miamis and Delawares. The Indians
were driven back in turn, and the circle again curved over the ground
that the defenders had held in the beginning. Jim Hart and Tom Ross were
wounded slightly, but they hid their scratches from the rest, and went
on with their part. A third attack in force at a third point was
repulsed in the same manner, but only after the most desperate fighting.
Each side suffered a heavy loss, but the Indians, nevertheless, were
repulsed and the defenders once again lay down among the bushes, their
pulses beating fast.
Then ensued the fiery ring. The white circle was complete, but the
Indians formed another and greater one facing it. The warriors no longer
tried to rush the camp, but flat on their stomachs among the bushes
they crept silently forward, and fired at every white man who exposed a
head or an arm or a hand.
They seemed to have eyes that pierced the dark, and, knowing where the
target lay, they had an advantage over the defenders who could not tell
from what point the next shot would come.
It was a sort of warfare, annoying and dangerous in the extreme, and
Clark became alarmed. It got upon the nerves of the men. They were
compelled to lie there and await this foe who stung and stung. He sought
eagerly by the flashes of lightning to discover where they clustered in
the greatest numbers, but they hugged the earth so close that he saw
nothing, even when the lightning was so vivid that it cast a blood red
tinge over both trees and bushes. He called Boone, Henry, Thomas and
others, the best of the scouts, to him.
"We must clear those Indians out of the woods," he said, "or they will
pick away at us until nothing is left to pick at. A charge with our best
men will drive them off. What do you say, Mr. Boone?"
Daniel Boone shook his head, and his face expressed strong disapproval.
"We'd lose too many men, Colonel," he replied. "They're in greater
numbers than we are, an' we drove them back when they charged. Now if we
charged they'd shoot us to pieces before we got where we wanted to go."
"I suppose you're right," said Clark. "In fact, I know you are. Yes, we
have to wait, but it's hard. Many of our men have been hit, and they
can't stand this sort of thing forever."
"Suppose you send forward a hundred of the best woodsmen and
sharpshooters," said Boone. "They can creep among the bushes an' maybe
they can worry the Indians as much as the Indians are worrying us."
Colonel Clark considered. They were standing then near the center of the
camp, and, from that point they could see through the foliage the dusky
surface of the water, and when they looked in the other direction they
saw puffs of fire as the rifles were discharged in the undergrowth.
"It's risky," he said at last, "but I don't see anything else for us to
do. Be sure that you choose the best men, Mr. Boone."
Daniel Boone rapidly told off a hundred, all great marksmen and cautious
woodsmen. Henry, Paul, Shif'less Sol, Long Jim and Tom Ross were among
the first whom he chose. Then while the defenders increased their fire
on the eastern side, he and his hundred, hugging the ground, began to
creep toward the south. It was slow work for so large a body, and they
had to be exceedingly careful. Boone wished to effect a surprise and to
strike the foe so hard that he would be thrown into a panic. But Henry
and Paul were glad to be moving. They had something now to which they
could look forward. The two kept side by side, paying little attention
to the firing which went on in unbroken volume on their left.
Boone moved toward a slight elevation about a hundred yards away. He
believed that it was occupied by a small Indian force which his gallant
hundred could easily brush aside, if they ever came into close contact.
Amid so much confusion and darkness he could reach the desired place
unless they were revealed by the lightning. There was not another flash
until they were more than half way and then the hundred lay so low among
the bushes that they remained hidden.
"We're beatin' the savages at their own game," said Shif'less Sol. "They
are always bent on stalkin' us, but they don't 'pear to know now that
we're stalkin' them. Keep your eye skinned, Henry; we don't want to run
into 'em afore we expect it."
"I'm watching," replied Henry in the same tone, "but I don't think I'll
have to watch much longer. In two or three minutes more they'll see us
or we'll see them."
Fifty yards more and another red flash of lightning came. Henry saw a
feathered head projecting over a log. At the same time the owner of the
feathered head saw him, fired and leaped to his feet. Henry fired in
return, and the next instant he and his comrades were upon the
skirmishers, clearing them out of the bushes and sending them in
headlong flight. They had been so long in the darkness now that their
eyes had grown used to it, and they could see the fleeing forms. They
sent a decimating volley after them, and then dropped down on the ridge
that they had won. They meant to hold it, and they were fortunate enough
to find there many fallen trees swept down by a tornado.
"We've cut their line," said Boone, "an' we must keep it cut. I've sent
a messenger to tell Colonel Clark that we've taken the place, an' since
we've broke their front they'll be mighty good men, Indians and
renegades, if they're ever able to join it together again."
The warriors returned in great force to the attack. They appreciated the
value of the position, but the sharpshooters fired from the shelter of
the logs.
The five, following their long custom, kept close together, and when
they threw themselves down behind the logs they took a rapid accounting.
Paul was the only one who had escaped unhurt. A tomahawk, thrown at
short range, had struck Henry on the side of the head, but only with the
flat of the blade. His fur cap and thick hair saved him, but the force
of the blow had made him reel for a minute, and a whole constellation of
stars had danced before his eyes. Now his head still rung a little, but
the pain was passing, and all his faculties were perfectly clear and
keen. A bullet had nicked Tom Ross's wrist, but, cutting a piece of
buckskin from his shirt, he tied it up well and gave it no further
attention. Jim Hart and Shif'less Sol had received new scratches, but
they were not advertising them.
They lay panting for a few minutes among the fallen trees, and all
around them they heard the low words of the gallant hundred; though
there were not really a hundred now. Boone was so near that Henry could
see the outline of the great forest-fighter's figure.
"Well, we succeeded, did we not, Colonel Boone?" he said, giving him a
title that had been conferred upon him a year or two before.
"We have so far," replied Boone, guardedly, "and this is a strong
position. We couldn't have taken it if we hadn't been helped by
surprise. I believe they'll make an effort to drive us out of this
place. Timmendiquas and Girty know the need of it. Come with me, Mr.
Ware, and see that all our men are ready."
Henry, very proud to serve as the lieutenant of such a man, rose from
his log and the two went among the men. Everyone was ready with loaded
weapons. Many had wounds, but they had tied them up, and, rejoicing now
in their log fortifications, they waited with impatience the Indian
onset. Henry returned to his place. A red flare of lightning showed his
eager comrades all about him, their tanned faces, set and lean, every
man watching the forest. But after the lightning, the night, heavy with
clouds, swept down again, and it seemed to Henry that it was darker than
ever. He longed for the dawn. With the daylight disclosing the enemy,
and helping their own aim, their log fortress would be impregnable.
Elsewhere the battle seemed to be dying. The shots came in irregular
clusters, and the war whoop was heard only at intervals. Directly in
front of them the silence was absolute and Henry's rapid mind divined
the reason for all these things. Girty and Timmendiquas were assembling
their main force there and they, too, would rely upon surprise and the
irresistible rush of a great mass. He crawled over to Boone and told him
his belief. Boone nodded.
"I think you are right," he said, "an' right now I'll send a messenger
back to Colonel Clark to be ready with help. The attack will come soon,
because inside of an hour you'll see dawn peeping over the eastern
trees."
Henry crawled back to his comrades and lay down with them, waiting
through that terrible period of suspense. Strain their ears as they
would, they could hear nothing in front. If Timmendiquas and Girty were
gathering their men there, they were doing it with the utmost skill and
secrecy. Yet the watch was never relaxed for an instant. Every finger
remained on the trigger and every figure was taut for instant action.
A half hour had passed. In another half hour the day would come, and
they must fight when eyes could see. The lightning had ceased, but the
wind was moaning its dirge among the leaves, and then to Henry's ears
came the sound of a soft tread, of moccasined feet touching the earth
ever so lightly.
"They are coming! They are coming!" he cried in a sharp, intense
whisper, and the next instant the terrible war whoop, the fiercest of
all human sounds, was poured from the hundreds of throats, and dusky
figures seemed to rise from the earth directly in front of them, rushing
upon them, seeking to close with the tomahawk before they could take aim
with their rifles in the darkness. But these were chosen men, ready and
wonderfully quick. Their rifles leaped to their shoulders and then they
flashed all together, so close that few could miss. The front of the
Indian mass was blown away, but the others were carried on by the
impetus of their charge, and a confused, deadly struggle took place once
more, now among the logs. Henry, wielding his clubbed rifle again, was
sure that he heard the powerful voice of Timmendiquas urging on the
warriors, but he was not able to see the tall figure of the great
Wyandot chieftain.
"Why don't the help from Colonel Clark come?" panted Shif'less Sol. "If
you don't get help when you want it, it needn't come at all."
But help was near. With a great shout more than two hundred men rushed
to the rescue. Yet it was hard in the darkness to tell friend from
enemy, and, taking advantage of it, the warriors yet held a place among
the fallen trees. Now, as if by mutual consent, there was a lull in the
battle, and there occurred something that both had forgotten in the
fierce passions of the struggle. The dawn came. The sharp rays of the
sun pierced the clouds of darkness and smoke, and disclosed the face of
the combatants to one another.
Then the battle swelled afresh, and as the light swung higher and
higher, showing all the forest, the Indian horde was driven back, giving
ground at first slowly. Suddenly a powerful voice shouted a command and
all the warriors who yet stood, disappeared among the trees, melting
away as if they had been ghosts. They sent back no war cry, not another
shot was fired, and the rising sun looked down upon a battlefield that
was still, absolutely still. The wounded, stoics, both red and white,
suppressed their groans, and Henry, looking from the shelter of the
fallen tree, was awed as he had never been before by Indian combat.
The day was of uncommon splendor. The sun shot down sheaves of red gold,
and lighted up all the forest, disclosing the dead, lying often in
singular positions, and the wounded, seeking in silence to bind their
wounds. The smoke, drifting about in coils and eddies, rose slowly above
the trees and over everything was that menacing silence.
"If it were not for those men out there," said Paul, "it would all be
like a dream, a nightmare, driven away by the day."
"It's no dream," said Henry; "we've repulsed the Indians twice, but
they're going to try to hold us here. They'll surround us with hundreds
of sharpshooters, and every man who tries to go a hundred yards from the
rest of us will get a bullet. I wish I knew where Logan's force is or
what has become of it."
"That's a mighty important thing to us," said Boone, "an' it'll grow
more important every hour. I guess Logan has been attacked too, but he
and Clark have got to unite or this campaign can't go on."
Henry said nothing but he was very thoughtful. A plan was forming
already in his mind. Yet it was one that compelled waiting. The day
deepened and the Indian force was silent and invisible. The
inexperienced would have thought that it was gone, but these borderers
knew well enough that it was lying there in the deep woods not a quarter
of a mile away, and as eager as ever for their destruction. Colonel
Clark reenforced the detachment among the fallen trees, recognizing the
great strength of the position, and he spoke many words of praise.
"I'll send food to you," he said, "and meat and drink in plenty. After a
night such as we have had refresh yourselves as much as you can."
They had an abundance of stores in the boats, and the men were not
stinted. Nor did they confine themselves to cold food. Fires were
lighted in the woods nearest to the river, and they cooked beef,
venison, pork and buffalo meat. Coffee was boiled in great cans of sheet
iron, and breakfast was served first to the gallant hundred.
Shif'less Sol, as he lay behind his tree, murmured words of great
content. "It's a black night that don't end," he said, "an' I like fur
mine to end jest this way. Provided I don't get hurt bad I'm willin' to
fight my way to hot coffee an' rich buff'ler steak. This coffee makes
me feel good right down to my toes, though I will say that there is a
long-legged ornery creatur that kin make it even better than this. Hey,
thar, Saplin'!"
Long Jim Hart's mouth opened in a chasm of a grin.
"I confess," he said, "I'm a purty good cook, ef I do tell it myself.
But what are we goin' to do now, Henry?"
"That's for Colonel Clark to say, and I don't think he'll say anything
just yet."
"Nice day," said Tom Ross, looking about approvingly.
All the others laughed, yet Tom told the truth. The clouds were gone and
the air had turned cooler. The forest looked splendid in its foliage,
and off to the south they could see wild flowers.
"Nothin' goin' to happen for some time," said Shif'less Sol, "an' me
bein' a lazy man an' proud o' the fact, I think I'll go to sleep."
Nobody said anything against it, and stretching himself out among the
bushes which shaded his face, he was sleeping peacefully in a few
minutes. Paul looked at him, and the impression which the slumbering man
made upon him was so strong that his own eyelids drooped.
"You go to sleep, too," said Henry. "You'll have nothing to do for
hours, and sleep will bring back your strength."
Paul had eaten a heavy breakfast, and he needed nothing more than
Henry's words. He lay down by the side of his comrade, and soon he too
was slumbering as soundly as Shif'less Sol. Several hours passed. The
sun moved on in its regular course toward the zenith. Paul and the
shiftless one still slept. Toward the eastern end of the camp someone
ventured a little distance from the others, and received a bullet in his
shoulder. A scout fired at the figure of an Indian that he saw for a
moment leaping from one tree to another, but he could not tell whether
he hit anything. At the other end of the camp there were occasional
shots, but Paul and the shiftless one slept on.
Henry glanced at the sleepers now and then and was pleased to see that
they rested so well. He suggested to Jim Hart that he join them, and Jim
promptly traveled to the same blissful country. Henry himself did not
care to go to sleep. He was still meditating. All this sharpshooting by
the two sides meant nothing. It was more an expression of restlessness
than of any serious purpose, and he paid it no attention. Silent Tom
noticed the corrugation of his brow, and he said:
"Thinkin' hard, Henry?"
"Yes; that is, I'm trying," replied Henry.
Tom, his curiosity satisfied, relapsed into silence. He, too, cared
little for the casual shots, but he was convinced that Henry had a plan
which he would reveal in good time.
The sniping went on all day long. Not a great deal of damage was done
but it was sufficient to show to Colonel Clark that his men must lie
close in camp. If the white army assumed the offensive, the great Indian
force from the shelter of trees and bushes would annihilate it. And
throughout the day he was tormented by fears about Logan. That leader
was coming up the Licking with only three or four hundred men, and
already they might have been destroyed. If so, he must forego the
expedition against Chillicothe and the other Indian towns. It was a
terrible dilemma, and the heart of the stout leader sank. Now and then
he went along the semicircle, but he found that the Indians were always
on watch. If a head were exposed, somebody sent a bullet at it. More
than once he considered the need of a charge, but the deep woods forbade
it. He was a man of great courage and many resources, but as he sat
under the beech tree he could think of nothing to do.
The day--one of many alarms and scattered firing--drew to its close.
The setting sun tinted river and woods with red, and Colonel Clark,
still sitting under his tree and ransacking every corner of his brain,
could not yet see a way. While he sat there, Henry Ware came to him, and
taking off his hat, announced that he wished to make a proposition.
"Well, Henry, my lad," said the Colonel, kindly, "what is it that you
have to say? As for me, I confess I don't know what to do."
"Somebody must go down the Licking and communicate with Colonel Logan,"
replied the youth. "I feel sure that he has not come up yet, and that he
has not been in contact with the Indians. If his force could break
through and join us, we could drive the Indians out of our path."
"Your argument is good as far as it goes," said Colonel Clark somewhat
sadly, "but how are we to communicate with Logan? We are surrounded by a
ring of fire. Not a man of ours dare go a hundred yards from camp. What
way is there to reach Logan?"
"By water."
"By water? What do you mean?"
"Down the Ohio and up the Licking."
Colonel Clark stared at Henry.
"That's an easy thing to talk about," he said, "but who's going down the
Ohio and then up the Licking for Logan?"
"I--with your permission."
Colonel Clark stared still harder, and his eyes widened a little with
appreciation, but he shook his head.
"It's a patriotic and daring thing for you to propose, my boy," he said,
"but it is impossible. You could never reach the mouth of the Licking
even, and yours is too valuable a life to be thrown away in a wild
attempt."
But Henry was not daunted. He had thought over his plan long and well,
and he believed that he could succeed.
"I have been along the Ohio before, and I have also been down the
Licking," he said. "The night promises to be cloudy and dark like last
night and I feel sure that I can get through. I have thought out
everything, and I wish to try. Say that you are willing for me to go,
Colonel."
Colonel Clark hesitated. He had formed a strong liking for the tall
youth before him, and he did not wish to see his life wasted, but the
great earnestness of Henry's manner impressed him. The youth's quiet
tone expressed conviction, and expressed it so strongly that Colonel
Clark, in his turn, felt it.
"What is your plan?" he asked.
"When the night reaches its darkest I will start with a little raft,
only four or five planks fastened together. I do not want a canoe. I
want something that blends with the surface of the water. I'll swim,
pushing it before me until I am tired, and then I'll rest upon it. Then
I'll swim again."
"Do you really think you can get through?" asked the Colonel.
"I'm sure of it."
Colonel Clark paced back and forth for a minute or two.
"It looks terribly dangerous," he said at last, "but from all I have
heard you've done some wonderful things, and if you can reach Logan in
time, it will relieve us from this coil."
"I can do it! I can do it!" said Henry eagerly.
Colonel Clark looked at him long and scrutinizingly. He noted his
height, his powerful figure, the wonderful elasticity that showed with
every step he took, and his firm and resourceful gaze.
"Well, go," he said, "and God be with you."
"I shall start the moment full darkness comes," said Henry.
"But we must arrange a signal in case you get through to Logan," said
Colonel Clark. "He has a twelve pound bronze gun. I know positively that
he left Lexington with it. Now if he approaches, have him fire a shot.
We will reply with two shots from our guns, you answer with another from
yours, and the signal will be complete. Then Logan is to attack the
Indian ring from the outside with all his might, and, at the same moment
and at the same point, we will attack from the inside with all of ours.
Then, in truth, it will be strange if we do not win the victory."
Henry returned to his comrades and told them the plan. They were loth to
see him go, but they knew that attempts to dissuade him would be
useless. Nevertheless, Shif'less Sol had an amendment.
"Let me go with you, Henry," he said. "Two are better than one."
"No," replied Henry, "I must go alone, Sol. In this case the smaller the
party the less likely it is to be seen. I'll try, and then if I fail, it
will be your time."
The night, as Henry had foreseen, was cloudy and dark. The moon and
stars were hidden again, and two hundred yards from shore the surface of
the river blended into the general blur. His little raft was made all
ready. Four broad planks from the wagons had been nailed securely
together with cross-strips. Upon them he laid his rifle and pistols--all
in holsters--ammunition secured from the wet, and food and his clothing
in tight bundles. He himself was bare, save for a waist cloth and belt,
but in the belt he carried a hatchet and his long hunting knife.
Only his four comrades, Colonel Clark and Boone were present when he
started. Every one of the six in turn, wrung his hand. But the four who
had known him longest and best were the most confident that he would
reach Logan and achieve his task.
Henry slipped silently into the water, and, pushing his raft before him,
was gone like a wraith. He did not look back, knowing that for the
present he must watch in front if he made the perilous passage. The
boats belonging to the army were ranged toward the shore, but he was
soon beyond them. Then he turned toward the bank, intending to keep deep
in its shadows, and also in the shade of the overhanging boughs.
The Indians had no fleet, but beyond a doubt they were well provided
with canoes which would cruise on both rivers beyond the range of rifle
shot, and keep a vigilant watch for messengers from either Clark or
Logan. Hence Henry moved very slowly for a while, eagerly searching the
darkness for any sign of his vigilant foe. He rested one arm upon his
little raft, and with the other he wielded a small paddle which sent him
along easily.
As it nears Cincinnati the Ohio narrows and deepens, and the banks rise
more abruptly. Henry kept close to the southern shore, his body often
touching the soft earth. Fortunately the bushes grew thickly, even on
the steep cliff, to the water's edge. When he had gone three or four
hundred yards he pulled in among them and lay still awhile. He heard the
sound of distant shots and he knew that the Indians were still sniping
the camp. The curve of the Ohio hid the boats of his friends, and before
him the river seemed to be deserted. Yet he was sure that the Indian
canoes were on watch. They might be hovering within fifty yards of him.
He listened for the noise of paddles, but no such sound came, and
pushing his tiny craft from the coil of bushes, he set out once more
upon the Ohio. Still hearing and seeing nothing, he went a little
faster. Henry was a powerful swimmer, and the raft, small as it was,
gave him ample support. Meanwhile, he sought sedulously to avoid any
noise, knowing that only an incautious splash made by his paddle would
almost certainly be heard by an Indian ear.
Presently he saw on the northern bank a light, and then another light
farther up the stream. Probably the Indians were signaling to one
another, but it did not matter to him, and he swam on towards the mouth
of the Licking, now about a half mile away. Another hundred yards and he
quickly and silently drew in to the bank again, pushing the raft far
back, until it, as well as himself, was hidden wholly. He had heard the
distant sounds of paddles coming in his direction, and soon two Indian
canoes in file came in sight. Each canoe contained two warriors. Henry
inferred from the way in which they scrutinized the river and the bank,
that they were sentinels. Well for him that the bushes grew thick and
high. The penetrating Indian eyes passed unsuspecting over his hiding
place, and went on, dropping slowly down the river to a point where they
could watch the white boats. A hundred yards in that darkness was
sufficient to put them out of sight, and Henry again pushed boldly into
the stream.
The young blockade runner now had a theory that the sentinel boats of
the Indians would keep close in to the shore. That would be their
natural procedure, and to avoid them he swam boldly far out into the
river. Near the middle of the current he paddled once more up stream.
Only his head showed above the surface and the raft was so low that no
one was likely to notice it. The wisdom of his movement soon showed as
he made out three more canoes near the Kentucky shore, obviously on
watch. Toward the north, at a point not more than seventy or eighty
yards away he saw another canoe containing three warriors and apparently
stationary. Others might be further ahead, but the darkness was too
great for him to tell. Clearly, there was no passage except in the
middle of the stream, the very point that he had chosen.
Many a stout heart would have turned back, but pride commanded Henry to
go on. Fortunately, the water lying long under the summer heat was very
warm, and one could stay in it indefinitely, without fear of chill.
While he deliberated a little, he sank down until he could breathe only
through his nostrils, keeping one hand upon the raft. Then he began to
swim slowly with his feet and the other hand and all the while he kept
his eyes upon the stationary boat containing the three warriors. By dint
of staring at them so long they began to appear clear and sharp in the
darkness. Two were middle-aged, and one young. He judged them to be
Wyandots, and they had an anchor as they did not use the paddles to
offset the current. Undoubtedly they were sentinels, as their gaze made
a continuous circle about them. Henry knew, too, that they were using
ears as well as eyes and that nobody could hear better than the
Wyandots.
He decreased his pace, merely creeping through the water, and at the
same time he swung back a little toward the southern shore and away from
the Wyandots in the canoe. But the movement was a brief one. To the
right of him he saw two more canoes and he knew that they formed a part
of the chain of sentinels stretched by Timmendiquas across the river. It
was obvious to Henry that the Wyandot leader was fully aware of the
advance of Logan, and was resolved to prevent the passage of any
messenger between him and Clark.
Henry paused again, still clinging to his little raft, and holding his
place in the current with a slight motion of his feet. Then he advanced
more slowly than ever, choosing a point which he thought was exactly
half way between the Wyandots and the other canoes, but he feared the
Wyandots most. Twenty yards, and he stopped. One of the Wyandot warriors
seemed to have seen something. He was looking fixedly in Henry's
direction. Boughs and stumps of every sort often floated down the Ohio.
He might have caught a glimpse of Henry's head. He would take it for a
small stump, but he would not stop to surmise.
Holding the planks with but one hand, Henry dived about two feet
beneath the surface and swam silently but powerfully up the stream. He
swam until his head seemed to swell and the water roared in his ears. He
swam until his heart pounded from exhaustion and then he rose slowly to
the surface, not knowing whether or not he would rise among his enemies.
No one greeted him with a shot or blow as he came up, and, when his eyes
cleared themselves of water, he saw the Wyandot canoe cruising about
sixty or seventy yards down the stream, obviously looking for the dark
spot that one of them had seen upon the surface of the river. They might
look in his direction, but he believed that he was too far away to be
noticed. Still, he could not tell, and one with less command of himself
would have swam desperately away. Henry, instead, remained perfectly
still, sunk in the water up to his nostrils, one hand only yet clinging
to the raft. The Wyandots turned southward, joined their brethren from
the Kentucky shore and talked earnestly with them. Henry used the
opportunity to swim about a hundred yards further up the stream, and
then, when the canoes separated, he remained perfectly still again. In
the foggy darkness he feared most the Indian ear which could detect at
once any sound out of the common. But the Wyandot canoe returned to its
old place and remained stationary there. Evidently the warriors were
convinced that they had seen only a stump.
Henry now swam boldly and swiftly, still remaining in the middle of the
stream. He saw several lights in the woods on the southern shore, not
those of signals, but probably the luminous glow from camp fires as they
burned with a steady blaze. The Indians were on watch, and the faint
sound of two or three rifle shots showed that the night did not keep
them from buzzing and stinging about Colonel Clark's force. Yet Henry's
pulse leaped in throat and temple. He had passed one formidable obstacle
and it was a good omen. The stars in their courses were fighting for
him, and he would triumph over the others as they came.
But he checked his speed, thinking that the Indian canoes would be thick
around the mouth of the Licking, and presently he became conscious of a
great weariness. He had been in the water a long time and one could not
dive and swim forever. His arms and legs ached and he felt a soreness in
his chest. It was too dangerous to pull in to the bank at that point,
and he tried a delicate experiment. He sought to crawl upon his little
raft and lie there flat upon his back, a task demanding the skill of an
acrobat.
Three or four times Henry was within an inch of overturning his frail
craft with the precious freight, but he persisted, and by skillfully
balancing himself and the raft too he succeeded at last. Then he was
compelled to lie perfectly still, with his arms outstretched and his
feet in the water. He was flat upon his back and he could look at only
the heavens, which offered to his view nothing--no bright stars and
shining moon, only lowering clouds. If an enemy appeared, he must depend
upon his ear to give warning. But the physical difficulty of his
position did not keep him from feeling a delightful sense of rest. The
soreness left his chest, the ache disappeared from his arms and legs,
and he drew the fresh air into his lungs in deep and easy breaths. An
occasional kick of his feet kept the raft from floating down stream,
and, for a while, he lay there, studying the clouds, and wondering how
long it would be until the twinkle of a star would break through them.
He heard the sound of both paddles and oars, the first to the north and
the other to the south. But his experienced ear told him that each was
at least two hundred yards away, which was too far for anyone to see him
stretched out upon his boards. So he rested on and waited for his ears
to tell him whether the sounds were coming any nearer. The boat with the
oars passed out of hearing and the sound of the oars became fainter and
fainter. Henry's heart ticked a note of thankfulness. He would not be
disturbed for the present, and he continued his study of the low clouds,
while the strength flowed back into every part of his body.
It occurred to him presently that he could steer as well as propel his
float with his feet. So he set to work, threshing the water very slowly
and carefully, and turning his head towards the mouth of the Licking.
Occasionally he heard the sounds of both oars and paddles, but he judged
very accurately that those who wielded them were not near enough to see
him. He was thankful that the night was not broken like the one before
with flashes of lightning which would infallibly have disclosed him to
the enemy.
After a half hour of this work, he felt a strange current of water
against his feet, and at first he was puzzled, but the solution came in
a few minutes. He was opposite the mouth of the Licking, and he had come
into contact with the stream before it was fully merged into the Ohio.
What should he do next? The cordon across the Licking, a much narrower
river, would be harder to pass than that on the Ohio.
But he was rested fully now, and, sliding off his boards into the water,
he took a long survey of his situation. No break had yet occurred in the
clouds, and this was a supreme good fortune. To the east, he dimly saw
two boats, and to the south, the high black bank. No lights were visible
there, but he saw them further down the shore, where it was likely that
the majority of the warriors were gathered. Henry resolved to make
directly for the angle of land between the mouth of the Licking and the
Ohio, and he swam toward it with swift, powerful strokes, pushing his
raft before him.
He calculated that at this angle of land he would be between the two
Indian cordons, and there, if anywhere, he could find the way to Logan.
He reached the point, found it well covered with bushes, and drew the
little raft into concealment. Then he climbed cautiously to the top and
looked long in every direction, seeking to trace the precise alignment
of the Indian force. He saw lights in the woods directly to the south
and along the shore of the Licking. The way there was closed and he knew
that the watch would be all the more vigilant in order to intercept the
coming of Logan. He could not pass on land. Hence, he must pass on
water.
There were yet many long hours before daylight, and he did not hasten.
Although the water was warm he had been in it a long time and he took
every precaution to maintain his physical powers. He did not dress, but
he rubbed thoroughly every part of his body that he could reach. Then he
flexed and tensed his muscles until he had thrown off every chance of
chill, after which he lowered himself into the water, and pushed out
with his raft once more.
He turned the angle of land and entered the Licking, a narrow, deep, and
muddy stream, lined there, like all the other rivers of that region,
with high and thick forests. Ahead of him, he saw in the stream a half
dozen boats with warriors, yet he continued his course towards the
cordon, keeping his float very close to the western banks. It is said
that fortune favors the daring, and Henry had often proved the truth of
it. Once more the saying held good. Clouds heavier and thicker than any
of the others floated up and plunged river and shores into deeper
obscurity. Henry believed that if he could avoid all noise, he might, by
hugging the bank, get by.
He went in so close to the shore that he could wade, but finding that he
was likely to become tangled among bushes and vines, thus making sounds
which the warriors would not fail to hear, he returned to deeper water.
Now the most critical moment of the river gauntlet was approaching. He
saw about one hundred yards before him, and directly across his course,
a boat containing two warriors. The space between this boat and the
western shore was not more than thirty yards. Could he pass them,
unseen? The chances were against it, but he resolved to try.
Swimming silently, he approached the opening. He had sunk deep in the
water again, with only one hand on the float, and there was yet nothing
from the boat to indicate that the two warriors had either seen or heard
him. Despite all his experience, his heart beat very fast, and his hand
on the float trembled. But he had no thought of going back. Now he was
almost parallel with the boat. Now, he was parallel, and the watchful
eye of one of the warriors caught a glimpse of the darker object on the
surface of the dark water. He stared a moment in surprise, and then with
a yell of warning to his comrade, raised his rifle and fired at the
swimming head.
Henry had seen the upraised rifle, and diving instantly, he swam with
all his might up stream. As he went down, he heard the bullet go zip
upon the water. Knowing that he could not save his little craft, he had
loosed his hold upon it and swam under water as long as he could. Yet
those boards and the packages upon them saved his life. They were the
only things that the warriors now saw, and all rowed straight towards
the raft. Meanwhile, Henry rose in the bushes at the edge of the bank
and took long and deep breaths, while they examined his rifle and
clothing. Before they had finished, he dived into the deep water once
more, and was again swimming swiftly against the current of the
Licking.