KENTON, THE RECKLESS BORDERER
THE swimmer had timed himself so as to reach the side of the flatboat
as it swung past; and, in order to create a diversion in his favor, Pat
called on his friends to send in a hot fire among the charging Indians.
This had the effect of making them scamper for shelter; and meanwhile
Kenton managed to get on the other side of the floating craft. Eager
hands were outstretched to assist him over the side. He was still
laughing, as though he considered the whole thing a joke. And the very
first thing he did upon reaching the deck of the boat was to shake his
fist in the direction of the hidden foes, and shout some derisive words
in the Shawanee tongue toward them. (Note 10.)
They were soon far below the dangerous spot; and, after Kenton had
regained his breath, he proceeded to explain how it all happened.
He had learned, while hunting with a party of friends, that the
Indians over in Kentucky were once more on the war-path, and that
Boonesborough itself was threatened with extinction.
Faithful to his best friend, Daniel Boone, Kenton, after trying in vain
to coax the other hunters to join him, had alone started for the Ohio,
meaning to cross over, and make his way to the scene of action by fast
stages.
He had had the misfortune to fall upon a party of Shawanees, and, after
a fierce battle, was taken prisoner, and carried to their village.
"But, as usual, they could not hold you," remarked Mr. Armstrong.
"Oh! I knew that was what would happen," replied the woodsman, lightly.
"And I managed to escape in good season, for time was worth something
to me, since my rifle is needed for the defence of Boonesborough. After
I am refreshed I will only ask you to put me ashore over yonder," and
he pointed across the rolling river, to where lay the hilly shore of
the "Dark and Bloody Ground," as Kentucky was well called in those
early days.
"Then we must start without delay, and you shall have a bite to eat
before you leave us," said Mr. Armstrong; after which he gave orders
to have the course of the flatboat changed, heading once more across
the river.
The women were soon engaged in preparing supper, so that Kenton might
not be detained longer than was absolutely necessary, and, some of the
venison having been held over, it came in very handy for that purpose.
Meantime there was an exchange of stories between them, Kenton being
desirous of learning why they were here, so far away from the home in
which he had last met them. Thus he heard about the flood, and the
determination of the settlers making up the party to head into the
west, and seek a new home on the bank of the wonderful Mississippi.
Of course this sort of pluck appealed to such a bold nature as that of
Simon Kenton. He told them they were doing the right thing, and related
many facts connected with the Promised Land, some gleaned from others,
and a few through personal observation on some of his wanderings, that
quite naturally further strengthened their resolution, which may have
been becoming a little weak in a few of the party, after their recent
trials on the river.
By the time the boat drew near the Kentucky shore supper was ready;
so the anchor was thrown overboard, and the entire company sat down to
enjoy the feast the good wives had prepared.
If the variety of food was not so extensive, there was at least enough
in quantity and to spare; and, with the appetites that went with their
life in the open, this was usually the main thing.
Kenton begged a little more powder and ball from Mr. Armstrong, and it
was only too willingly given, for they knew that he had a difficult
trail to follow, and they could in imagination see the dangers that
peopled it.
Just as darkness was settling over the land and water Bob and Sandy
took the young borderer ashore in the dugout, only too proud of the
chance to do him a favor. And Kenton, having shaken hands with them at
parting, Sandy sighed upon looking after him when he disappeared among
the great trees that lined the shore.
"Come, get aboard here, Sandy," urged his brother, who knew well what
vague thoughts and ambitions must he flitting through the other's mind
just then, because he was aware of Sandy's desire to follow in the
footsteps of Simon Kenton, who had ever been the hero the boy admired.
And all the way back to the anchored flatboat Sandy maintained a
grim silence, though Bob knew it would wear off after a bit, and the
boy become his usual merry self. The truth of the matter was, Sandy
possessed an adventurous spirit, and chafed under restraint. He admired
the free nature of Kenton, who came and went as the whim urged him,
being under contract to no man. And then, too, the very recklessness
of the young borderer appealed to Sandy, who was inclined in that
direction himself.
Another quiet night followed, and once more the voyagers were on their
way. It would not be a great while now before they reached the small
post on the Ohio bank called by the name of Fort Washington, in honor
of the American soldier who was attracting general attention at the
time, and seemed to be the only Continental who might lead the armies
of the colonists in case the threatened rupture with the Mother Country
came about.
Again did they cross the river, for knowing that they would at any time
come in sight of the post, they wanted to be in a position to make a
landing. Here, safe for a time, they could rest, having completed the
first stage of their long and hazardous journey to the Mississippi.
It was Sandy who first discovered a flag floating from a staff, and,
although, at the time, the banner of England was beginning to lose some
of its attractiveness for the colonists, still, when seen under those
conditions, after having been beset by the savage foe for many days and
nights, they gave it a cheer.
The post had only been recently established, and, while visited by
all wandering hunters and trappers who roamed the country in search
of game and adventure, there were only a few families staying there.
The arrival of a flatboat was an event calculated to greatly excite
the garrison of the post, and consequently our friends received a warm
welcome.
It was nice to feel that for a short time at least they could lie down
to sleep without dreading lest they be aroused by the savage war-whoops
of the cruel foe, always ready to overpower any daring settler or
trapper of the hated palefaces.
Bob and Sandy were glad to get ashore again. The latter wished very
much for a chance to take a hunt into the forests that at this time
completely flanked the little station in the cup between the several
hills, and facing the river; but to this Mr. Armstrong would not give
his consent.
They had learned that the various Indian tribes were in something of a
ferment, with such leaders as the notorious Pontiac urging them on to
a confederation, the object of which was to drive out the encroaching
white man from their hunting grounds. And several times, of late, those
who ventured out beyond the stockade of the new post had been fired on,
showing that crafty enemies lurked near by all the while, ready to take
advantage of any opportunity to secure a scalp.
Several days passed while they lingered here, for it was very pleasant,
and the adventurous settlers knew that they would not have a chance to
see their kind again for a long while.
Coming upon Bob one afternoon, after they had heard that the start was
to be made on the following morning, Sandy found his brother looking at
some small object which he immediately recognized.
It was the last piece of curled birch bark, on which their unknown
friend had written his message of warning, using the picture language
of the Indian, so universally known throughout all the tribes.
"Oh! I had forgotten all about that," Sandy burst out; "and, now that
we've come so far away from our home up on the Ohio, I suppose we'll
never know who sent these friendly warnings, and just why."
"That's something I was wondering about," replied Bob. "Now, here's the
arrow to which this message was fastened; and wouldn't you say this one
had been made by just the same cunning hand?"
He reached behind him, and placed a second shaft beside the first
arrow. Sandy bent his head to examine them more closely. Then he looked
up again.
"What do you mean, Bob, and where did you get that second Delaware
arrow?" he demanded, quickly.
"Where but in the roof of our flatboat cabin," returned the other. "It
had been fired from up on the hills back yonder, I do believe; though
the marksman must have been a rare one to hit a target so far away. But
it bore no birch-bark message, though I can well believe it was sent
just to tell us our strange friend, who has watched over us so many
times, is still following us down the river, and means to keep up with
us to the end. That Indian, Sandy, must believe he owes us a heavy debt
of gratitude, and he means to pay it back, some way or other."
And Sandy, handling the feathered shaft, had a feeling almost of awe
steal over him, as he reflected what gratitude must stand for in the
eyes of an Indian brave. Hundreds of miles this unknown friend had
already travelled, trying to stand between the boys and harm; and the
end was not yet.
"Oh! I do hope we know who he is some of these days," the boy said,
soberly.