BARRINGFORD'S STRANGE DISCOVERY
The new cabin of the Morrises, built after the burning of the old, was
somewhat similar in shape to that which had been reduced to ashes. There
was the same small bedroom at the north end, which, as before, had been
turned over to Dave and Henry. But this room boasted of two windows instead
of one, each fitted with a heavy wooden shutter, to be closed in winter or
during an attack by the Indians.
The old four-post bedstead, of walnut and hickory, with its cords of
rawhide, was gone, and in its stead the Morrises had built a wide bunk
against the inner wall of the apartment, with a mattress of straw and a
pillow of the same material, for feathers were just then impossible to
obtain. Under the window was a wide bench made of a half log, commonly
called a puncheon bench, and the flooring was likewise of puncheons, that
is, split logs with the flat side smoothed down. Into the walls were driven
pegs of wood, upon which the youths could hang their garments.
The room was cold, almost icy, and it did not take Dave and Henry long to
get into bed after they had made up their minds to retire. Having said
their prayers, they huddled close together for warmth, covering themselves
with blankets and a fur robe James Morris had brought from his
trading-post.
The wind had been gradually rising and by midnight it was blowing half a
gale, whistling shrilly around the cabin and through the heavy boughs of
the neighboring trees. The doors and shutters rattled and awakened Mrs.
Morris, but the boys and men slept well, for the sounds were familiar ones.
In the early morning came a change. The wind went down and there was a
heavy fall of snow which kept up steadily for many hours. By the time Dave
and Henry arose the snow was several inches deep on the doorstep, where it
had previously been swept clean.
"Traveling for Sam Barringford will certainly be bad," remarked Rodney, who
was already at work, blowing up the fire for his mother. "If this keeps on,
it will be a couple of feet deep by nightfall."
As there was but little to do that morning, Dave and Henry took their time
in dressing. After breakfast they set about cleaning the wild turkeys and
the rabbits. The feathers of the turkeys were saved and also the rabbits'
skins, for all would come in useful, sooner or later, around the cabin
home.
"The wind is rising once more," remarked Joseph Morris in the middle of the
afternoon, after a trip to the cattle shed, to see that the stock were
safe. "It is blowing the snow in all directions."
The boys had been out, trying to clean a path to the spring, but found
their labors unavailing. So they filled a cask which stood in the pantry
with water, that they might not fall short of this necessary commodity
should they become completely snowed in.
Nightfall was at hand, and the wind was whistling more fiercely than ever,
when Henry chanced to go to the door, to see if the snow was covering the
cattle shed.
As he looked out he heard a faint cry. He listened intently and soon the
cry was repeated.
"Somebody is calling for help!" he exclaimed to the others.
"Where?" asked Joseph Morris quickly, and reached for his hat and
greatcoat.
"I think the call came from yonder," answered the son, pointing in the
direction.
"Was it Sam Barringford's voice?"
"I couldn't make out."
"Perhaps some traveler has lost his way," put in Rodney.
"We can go out and see," said Joseph Morris. He went to the doorway. "This
way!" he shouted. "This way!"
"Help!" came back faintly. "Help!"
"We're coming!"
Joseph Morris was soon out of the house, and James Morris followed him.
Without delay Mrs. Morris lit the lantern and hung it outside of the
doorway, that they might see their way back, and also placed a candle in
the window. The fire was stirred up, so that the one in trouble might be
warmed up and given something hot to drink.
With the snow swirling in all directions around them, it was no easy matter
for Joseph Morris and his brother to move forward to the spot from whence
the cry for help had proceeded. In spots the snow lay three and four feet
deep, and to pass through some of the drifts was out of the question.
"Sam, is it you?" called out James Morris presently.
"Yes!" was the feeble answer.
"Where are you?"
"Here, by the old split hickory. Jest about lost my wind, too."
"We'll soon be with you," answered James Morris.
There was a row of brushwood to the south of the split hickory tree, and in
the shelter of this the Morrises moved forward as rapidly as possible. The
keen wind cut like a knife, and they knew that it was this which had
exhausted the old frontiersman they were trying to succor.
Almost blinded, and nearly out of wind themselves, they at last reached the
split tree, to find Sam Barringford crouched behind a mass of the
snow-laden branches. He had a large pack on his back and also a bundle in
his arms.
Sam Barringford was a backwoodsman of a type that has long since vanished
from our midst. He was between fifty and sixty years of age, tall, thin,
and as straight as an arrow. He wore his hair and his beard long, and his
heavy eyebrows sheltered a pair of small black eyes that were as
penetrating as those of any wild beast. He was a skilled marksman, and at
following a trail had an instinct almost equal to that of the red men with
whom he had so often come in contact. He was dressed in a long hunting
shirt and furs, and wore a coonskin cap, with the tail of the animal
hanging over his shoulder.
"Winded, eh?" remarked Joseph Morris laconically.
"Why didn't you throw down your packs and leave 'em?"
"Couldn't leave this 'ere pack nohow," returned Barringford, nodding at the
bundle in his arms.
"Why not? Nobody is going to steal it tonight, I reckon."
"Taint that, Joe; the bundle's alive."
"What!"
"Babies--two on 'em, too."
"I vow!" put in James Morris. "Babies! Give them to me and I'll carry 'em
to the house. Joe, you give Sam a lift, if he needs it."
James Morris took the precious bundle, while his brother relieved the old
frontiersman of the pack on his back and took the latter's arm. The return
to the cabin was made without delay, James Morris getting there some
minutes before Joseph managed to arrive with Barringford clinging to his
arm.
"Sam has brought a couple of babies, Lucy!" said James Morris, as he rushed
up to the fireside and proceeded to open the bundle in his arms.
"I do declare!" gasped Mrs. Morris. "Babies! Where did he get them?"
"I don't know, but--Oh!"
The bundle had burst open, and there to the astonished gaze of all gathered
around were presented to view two little fat and chubby boy babies, each
about a year of age.
"Oh, the dear little things!" cried Mrs. Morris, snatching up one of them
and hugging it to her breast. "Are you alive?"
For answer the baby boy set up a faint cry and this was immediately
answered by a similar cry from the other baby. Then arose a grand chorus
which left no doubt of the facts that the babies were alive and that each
possessed a good pair of lungs and full knowledge of how to use them.
"Warm them up, James, while I get them some pap," said Mrs. Morris.
"Oh, the nice little babies!" put in little Nell, crowding close to touch
the soft and somewhat cold cheeks. "And such pretty eyes, too, and such
soft hair! Mamma, I think they are just too beautiful for anything!"
While Mrs. Morris was preparing some pap and some warm milk Joseph Morris
arrived with Sam Barringford, and proceeded to make the old frontiersman
comfortable. The water was already boiling in the big iron pot, and
Barringford was given a glass of hot liquor which soon made him feel like
himself once more. Later still he was served with a hearty meal, which he
ate as if famished.
"Great babies, ain't they?" he said. "Beats all creation how I found 'em,
too."
"So you found them?" put in Rodney. "Where?"
"On the road about three miles from this place--close to where the
Chelingworth cabin used to stand."
"Did you find them in the snow?" queried Dave, with deep interest.
"I did an' I didn't. Ye see, they was wrapped in the bundle an' the bundle
was tied up to a tree limb."
"And left there all alone?" cried Mrs. Morris, who was busy feeding the
little ones.
"It was a case of necessity, ma'am. The man who had had the children had
done his best by 'em, an' he couldn't do no more," returned Sam Barringford
gravely.
"Tell us the particulars, Sam," said James Morris.
"I will. I was coming along the trail, fightin' my way as best I could in
the teeth of the wind, an' feelin' bitter cold a-doin' of it, when I came
to a spot where there had been a fight between a man, a horse, and some
wild beasts--wolves, most likely. I couldn't git the straight of it at
fust, but at last I figured out that the horse had gone into a hole, broke
his leg, and pitched the man out on his head on the rocks. The man had had
the babies in a bundle, and to keep 'em from gettin' too cold had put 'em
in the tree instead of on the ground, or else he did it to save the babies
from the wild beasts.
"The wild beasts had done their bloody work well, and man an' horse had
been torn limb from limb. The man's skull was crushed, and it and part of
the horse lay in a nasty hole, an' that's what makes me think both had the
accident. The man had emptied his two pistols and used his knife, but it
wasn't no use. The fight was ag'in him from the start."
"Horrible!" murmured Mrs. Morris, while little Nell and some of the others
shuddered.
"I didn't notice the bundle in the tree at fust, but while I was takin' in
the awful sights afore me I heard a strange sound. 'Sam Barringford, thet's
a wildcat,' sez I to myself and swung my gun around putty quick. But it
wasn't no wildcat at all, but them babies beginning to set up a howl. Maybe
I wasn't taken back. It war the greatest amazement ever overtook me,
barrin' none!" added the old frontiersman emphatically.
"Was there anybody else around?" asked James Morris.
"Not a soul. I looked everywhere, an' tried to git a shot at some of the
wild beasts, but they had gone clean an' clear. Then I made up my mind the
best to do war to get them babies to some shelter, or they'd freeze to
deth. I didn't know ef other folks around here war to hum, so I made for
this place. When I got to the split hickory I war so tuckered out I set up
the yell you heard."
"Did the man have anything with him besides the babies?" asked Rodney.
"No bundle. But he had his pistols, the knife, a gold watch, some gold and
silver, and some other things which I didn't pick up because of the snow
an' the wind. Here are the things I did bring along," and Sam Barringford
brought them forth from a bag he had carried and laid them in a pile on the
table.