AT THE SETTING OF THE EVENING STAR
THE daring voyagers on the beamy flatboat knew that no matter how their
adventure might turn out in the end, whether for good or evil, at least
they were now on the home stretch. It was only a question of a few
days before they would be able to feast their eager eyes on that great
stream of which they had heard so much.
Their caution did not decrease, however. They realized that enemies
might lurk in the trees that bordered the river, and even amid the
beds of waving green reeds in marshy places, which were capable of
concealing treacherous foes, ready to let slip the swift arrow, or
discharge the French guns with which the unscrupulous traders at the
numerous posts were supplying the various tribes.
Nor was this all they had to fear. The closer they came to the valley
of the Mississippi the more peril they faced. Indians were had enough;
but, deep down in their hearts, the pioneers dreaded an encounter with
the outlaw trappers who, belonging to the old-time foe of England,
had ever been a thorn in the flesh of those who would people the vast
wilderness beyond the Alleghanies. (Note 11.)
Mr. Armstrong fully expected to have to fight for his new possession.
He believed, however, that, if they could only manage to hold out until
the second detachment arrived, to augment their force, all might be
well.
As for Sandy, he was daily showing more and more signs of excitement.
The dearest dream of his life was coming true; and, when presently
he could feast his eyes on the rolling flood of the greatest of all
rivers, he would feel contented--for a little while, at least.
They were hardly a day without some new thrill.
Now it was the sight of an Indian village in full view on the shore,
with the smoke curling up from several fires, where the squaws seemed
to be curing meat by some primitive process. Mr. Armstrong imagined
that most of the warriors must be off on another grand hunt; for, while
many old men, squaws and papooses crowded to the edge of the water, and
loud derisive shouts floated to the ears of the voyagers, there was no
effort made to man the canoes and attack the drifting flatboat.
Occasionally they discovered some lone brave in a small craft, hunting
the wild water birds that still remained in quantities at certain
favored places, while their feathered companions had swept away by
millions to far northern breeding-grounds, to return again in the
autumn months.
Mr. Armstrong made it a point to have one of the men aboard the
flatboat call out something in French whenever the chance arose. His
object was to make the red hunters believe that the passengers and crew
belonged to the nation with which the western tribes had long been at
peace. He believed that all such devices were fair in war times; and
that such an impression, if scattered broadcast among the Indians, was
apt to save the little party from many hazards.
But they were not always free from sudden perils that seemed to come
like bolts from a clear sky.
One night they had tied up to the southern shore, as usual. So far as
Pat O'Mara had been able to decide, there need be no fear of Indians,
although of course they meant to keep up a constant watch, so as to
guard against a surprise.
Supper had been cooked ashore, since they had become so tired of their
confined quarters aboard the boat that every chance to stretch their
limbs was eagerly seized upon, even though they realized that the
greatest element of safety lay in remaining back of that stout bulwark
formed by the sides of their floating home.
The good mothers were busily engaged putting the smaller children to
sleep, while the men sat around the small fire, smoking and comparing
notes as to how long they would be in reaching their destination.
It was a subject that they never wearied of talking about, since
all their hopes were bound up now in building those new homes that
they kept picturing in their family councils. The men did not mind
this roving existence so much, for they had become reconciled to
discomforts; but the wives and mothers yearned for the conclusion
of the long and wearisome voyage. They missed all the conveniences
of the cabins to which they were accustomed. In these later days a
housekeeper would be apt to smile upon learning what little constituted
the full assortment of "comforts" which made up the life of one
of those pioneer women; but it was all they had ever known, and a
spinning-wheel, with the flax that went with it, meant a supply of
clothing for the family that could be procured in no other way.
One of the men had been posted at a certain point where it was believed
he would be able to discover the slightest sign of an approaching
enemy, and the balance rested in full confidence of their safety.
Bob and Sandy had taken a notion to look over some of their
highly-prized traps which might need oiling; for they wanted them to be
in the best of condition when they started their fall campaign in the
new country.
They sat so that they might receive the benefit of the blaze that
still kept up, as new fuel was occasionally added to the little fire,
the evening being rather chilly, considering how far the season was
advanced.
And as they polished, or rubbed some bear's grease on the traps that
had seen long service through rain, snow and fair weather, the boys
talked, as they nearly always did, about the prospects that were so
soon to be realized.
"Father thinks two more days ought to bring us to where the Ohio
empties into the Mississippi," remarked Sandy, rubbing vigorously the
while.
"I only hope he is right, and that two nights from now we'll be camped
on the shore of that wonderful river," Bob replied, stopping his work
to critically examine it, so as to see whether anything more could be
done to keep that particular trap from being eaten by rust.
"What was that dropped down just beside you, Bob?" suddenly asked the
younger boy, staring hard as he spoke.
"I heard something fall, but I supposed it was a nut dropped by a
squirrel," replied Bob, at the same time placing the trap on the
ground while he leaned over to examine. "I never saw the squirrels and
raccoons so tame as they are along here. Really now, I believe they
would almost take a piece of mother's hoe-cake right out of my hand.
Where was it you saw the nut fall, Sandy? Am I near it now? Tell me
when I get warmer or colder, like we do in that game the girls liked to
play back in Virginia."
"There, it must have been about where your hand is now; and--why, what
is that?" and Sandy stared with all his might at the object Bob was
holding up in his hand. "An arrow! An Indian arrow! Oh! some prowling
red wolf has been trying to shoot us down as we sit here. What a narrow
escape you had!"
"Wait, Sandy!" exclaimed Bob, quickly, and with that vein of authority
in his voice which he at times almost unconsciously assumed when
endeavoring to check the hasty actions of his younger brother. "Look
again, and perhaps you may remember seeing just such an arrow as this
before."
Sandy sank back in his seat, as though his sudden fright had passed
away.
"Oh! it is the same Delaware arrow!" he cried. "Our good, but unknown
friend has once more sent us a warning that danger hangs over our
heads! Pull the message off, Bob, and let us see what it says! How
splendid of this strange protector to follow us all the way from our
old home, away up the Ohio, to this new land. What could we have done
to deserve such kindness, such faithfulness?"
Bob had not been idle all the time Sandy was talking. As before, there
was a strip of birch bark fastened to the stout reed that constituted
the shaft of the feathered arrow, bearing the Delaware flint barb.
Again were crude but easily understood figures scratched upon the light
brown side of the bark; this time they were very numerous, and told a
story as plain as though it had been printed with types.
There was a campfire, and a tied-up flatboat, which must belong to
them. About that fire a number of people seemed to be leisurely taking
their ease. Stars dotted what was intended for the sky overhead; and
one large one in particular was just above the horizon, indicated by
a straight line. Many recumbent figures, with feathers, different in
arrangement from any seen before, adorning their scalplocks, were
evidently crawling up through the long grass, coming from both sides.
They carried bows and arrows, and a few of them guns.
Sandy looked at the drawing, holding his very breath meanwhile.
"It means that we will be attacked by a tribe of Indians we've never
met before, doesn't it?" he demanded. "Because, I remember how the
Shawanees, the Delawares, the Pottawottomies, the Senecas, the Miamis
and the Hurons wear feathers in their hair when on the war-path, and
these are different."
"Yes, I think you are right, Sandy," replied the other; "but an Indian
must always be an Indian to us, if he is hostile. Do you notice how he
has drawn this big star close down to the level of the horizon? That
must be meant for the evening star up yonder; and the attack is planned
for the time of its setting."
"Which will come in another hour, Bob," Sandy went on, feverishly.
"Come, let us gather all our traps together, and get them aboard. I'll
look after that; and do you show our father what our kind friend has
done for the Armstrongs for the third time."
"Just what I was going to say to you, Sandy," remarked Bob. "But
remember, you must not look so excited, for many reasons. Why, right
now, at this very minute, how do we know but that a number of savage
Indians may be watching us, ready to send in a shower of arrows if they
understand that we have guessed their game? Go about your work just as
if we didn't have the least suspicion of danger."
"I will, Bob, you can depend on me; and what you say is good, hard
sense, every word of it. I only wish I could keep myself held down, and
cool, as you do. But it just seems as though something inside of me is
always ready to jump at the very first sign of excitement. But there's
father looking this way now. Perhaps he has discovered that you are
holding an arrow in your hands, and wonders where you got it. Please go
over and beg of him to get aboard with mother and Kate right away. And
hold on to your gun--hold on to your gun!"
This last piece of advice was wholly unnecessary, for Bob was
determined to be in a condition to help defend the boat, should a
sudden emergency arise before the time set for the attack.
While Sandy hurried to get the bunch of traps aboard, and return to
the shore again, Bob sauntered over to where his father stood, and as
quietly as possible explained what had happened.
"You have a long head, for a boy, son," was what Mr. Armstrong
remarked, as his hand fell affectionately on Bob's shoulder; and such
few words of praise always made the boy's heart thrill with pride, for
his greatest ambition was to deserve the commendation of those who were
nearest and dearest to him. "We will try to let the men know, without
showing any undue alarm. The sentry, too, must be informed, so that he
may come in, and be ready to spring for the boat at the signal."
This was soon accomplished. Then, at the given word, everybody leaped
for the side of the boat. Instantly a scene of great excitement
followed. A gun sounded, and a number of arrows came hurtling through
the air, to strike the side of the cabin; while blood-curdling yells
arose from a point near by, showing where the enemy had been crawling
up all the while the voyagers rested under the belief that they were
safely guarded.
Fortunately no one was severely hurt by these feathered shafts, fired
so hastily, and without proper aim, though Mr. Bancroft, who had been
on guard, and had further to run than any of the rest, received one
through the fleshy part of his left arm as he climbed up the side of
the boat.
But by now the guns of the whites began to answer back, and the
Indians, who were coming headlong through the brush, evidently meaning
to follow them aboard, met with such a hot reception that they were
glad to drop flat, and creep behind trees or rocks.
"Cut the cable free!" shouted Mr. Armstrong. "Keep the women under
shelter, and let every gun be ready to repel boarders, if they come on
again!"
He himself boldly seized one of the push poles, and threw his whole
weight upon it, the instant the cable had been released that held the
upper end of the boat to a tree.
Arrows hurtled around him in a cloud, and it seemed as though he must
surely be struck down at any second; but Mr. Armstrong appeared to bear
a charmed life, for he did not receive even a trivial wound.
The boat was already moving with the sluggish current close to the
shore. It was fortunate that all these things had been prepared for at
the time they tied up there. In the time of necessity a second might
mean safety or disaster to those hardy souls who had entrusted their
all to a slender chance.
Seeing that their expected quarry was leaving them in the lurch, the
Indians increased their fire; and then some of the more rash among them
rushed into full view, as though meaning to board the craft.
But they counted without their host. Those frontiersmen knew how to
defend their craft desperately. They never pulled trigger without
lessening the number of their assailants. Bob and Sandy were on the
firing line, and had no sooner discharged their muskets than they set
to work with feverish haste to get another load rammed home again.
Several of the Indians managed to dash through the water up to the
waist, and started to make their way aboard; but clubbed guns smote
those feathered heads with such unerring skill that not a single
bronzed warrior ever set foot on deck.
Now the boat was leaving the shore, influenced by the sweep, which two
of the voyagers managed to work fairly well. The danger seemed over,
and lusty shouts broke from the lips of the defenders of the craft as
they noted that the scene of the late battle was being left far behind,
with the baffled Indians giving short, sharp yelps, like wolves that
have been cheated out of their prey.
"Well done!" exclaimed Mr. Armstrong, breathing freely for the first
time since he had heard Bob tell how the warning arrow had fallen close
at his side. "And now, Neighbor Bancroft, let us look at that wound
you've received. I can pull the arrow through easier than break or
withdraw it. A painful but not a dangerous wound; you must let my wife
bathe it, and put on some of her magic salve."
"I only hope the heathen have not taken to poisoning their arrows,"
remarked Mr. Bancroft; and Bob and Sandy exchanged glances.
It happened that, many months before, one of them had watched an
Iroquois brave irritate a rattle-snake with a pole until he had the
reptile in a furious mood, and then allow it to strike a piece of fresh
meat many times, filling it with the green venom from his poison sack.
After this meat had become impregnated with the virus, arrow points
were dipped in it and allowed to dry until each had been thoroughly
infected. But it was seldom the Indians used such terrible weapons;
somehow they seemed to be bound by some code of honor that influenced
them to refrain from adding to the seriousness of an arrow wound.
Pat came up, and by the light of a lantern, held by one of the boys,
helped Mr. Armstrong draw the arrow through the wound, for it was
nearly half-way out, and could not be broken without additional pain to
the victim.
Then Bob's mother, who was a splendid nurse, came to dress the wound,
and apply some of her salve, upon which every one relied so completely.
Bob had been keeping an eye on Pat, who he saw was examining the arrow
closely. As Pat was well acquainted with the peculiarities of the many
separate Indian tribes, as connected with their arrows and head-dress
of feathers, Bob felt positive that he could tell him what he wanted to
know.
"That is no Shawanee arrow, Pat, I take it?" he remarked.
"That's jist it, Bob, me bye," the trapper declared, nodding as he
looked up. "No Shawanee brave iver made his arrow afther the likes av
that. Sac, I says till mesilf, as soon as I set me eyes on it, an'
Sac I says shtill. They do be the manest rids av the whole bunch, I'm
thinkin'; though, belave me, I'd hisitate to say that same in the
prisince av Mrs. Armstrong, bliss her swate heart for an angel, wid her
healin' salve an' her coolin' lotions, becase she has been thryin' to
belave that all the bad Injuns has been lift behint entirely; whin the
thruth be, there's jist as many out along the ould Mississippi as we
knew afore."
After passing down several miles in the semi-darkness they anchored the
boat off a bar, and kept close watch until dawn brought safety; when
the voyage was resumed, with grateful hearts that another peril had
been safely passed, thanks to that unknown red friend who had a debt to
settle with the Armstrong boys.
Still another night passed, and again they slept on board, for the
women were averse to taking any more chances. This brought them to the
day when, according to all the figuring done by Mr. Armstrong, assisted
by what knowledge Pat O'Mara had on the subject, they should be close
to the place of the joining of the two great rivers.
All morning long they kept a vigil. Eager eyes looked ahead, in the
hope of discovering the mighty stream which had lured them all the way
from their old home far up the picturesque Ohio.
The afternoon was pretty well advanced when Sandy gave a whoop that was
characteristic of the lad. No need to ask what made him leap about so
boisterously, waving his coonskin cap around his head. Every eye turned
in the direction of the expected vision; and, when they saw the great
sweep of water that lay ahead, with its further shore but dimly marked
against the western horizon, a silence fell upon them.
It was indeed the Mississippi that spread before the eyes of that brave
little company, up to then almost a sealed book to English colonists,
though well known to the French trappers and traders, whose cordon of
posts from north to south united Canada with the warm regions of the
gulf.
They had finally come to the region where their new home was to be
built--on the bank of the Mississippi.