THE PACK-HORSE-MAN'S MEDICINE
Charles Lewis was as popular as he was widely known. He had the gift of
attracting men to him on short acquaintance and of holding them as
life-long friends. His fame as an Indian-fighter was known throughout the
South, his adventures possessing those picturesque elements which strongly
appeal to border-folk. During the Braddock and Pontiac Wars his service
was practically continuous.
In his home-life he was a kindly, gentle man. I found him playing with his
five small children. He greeted me warmly and displayed none of his
brother's austerity. During the greater part of two days which I was in
his hospitable home I succeeded, I pride myself, in showing him the truth
concerning the various reports sent over the line from Pennsylvania.
I know that when I left him he was convinced the war must be fought to a
decisive finish before any of our western valleys could be safe. On one
point he was very positive: the Cherokees, he insisted, would not join the
Ohio tribes, despite the murder of Oconostota's brother. Could the people
of the Clinch and Holston have felt the same confidence, they would have
spared themselves much nagging.
I took my time in returning to Salem, for there was much to think over.
The bulk of my meditations concerned Patsy Dale. I decided to see her once
more before crossing the mountains. I had no hope of finding her changed,
but I did not intend to leave a shadow of a doubt in my own mind. I would
leave no room for the torturing thought that had I been less precipitate
she would have been more kindly.
Yet I had no foolish expectations; I knew Patricia. This last interview
was to be an orderly settlement of the whole affair, and assurance that
self-accusation should not accompany me to the wilderness. Then with the
war over there would be no over-mountain ties to hold me back from the
Kentucky country, or the Natchez lands.
I reached Richfield just as Colonel Lewis was setting forth to settle some
wrangling between two of his captains. It was the old contention over
enlistments, each leader charging the other with stealing men. I stopped
only long enough to get my horse and to induce the colonel to let me have
twenty pounds of powder and ten pounds of lead for the settlers. The lead
was sufficient for seven hundred rounds and, divided into one-fourth
portions, the powder would give a consciousness of power of eighty
riflemen.
It was late afternoon when my fresh mount brought me to Salem, and without
any hesitation--for I must move while my resolve was high--I galloped out
to the Dale house. The low sun extended my shadow to a grotesque length as
I flung myself from the saddle and with an attempt at a bold swagger
advanced to find the maid. I am sure my bearing suggested confidence, but
it was purely physical.
Inwardly I was quaking and wondering how I should begin my explanation for
this second call. I was a most arrant coward when I mounted the veranda.
The carefully rehearsed calm of my leather face vanished and I made the
discouraging discovery that my features were out of control. The door of
the house was open. I rapped loudly and frowned. A shuffling step, which
never could be Patricia's, nor yet heavy enough for Dale, finally rewarded
by efforts. A colored woman came to the door and ducked her portly form.
I began asking for Patricia, but she recognized me as a recent caller and
broke in:
"De massa 'n' de young missy done gwine 'way. Dat onery white man gone wif
dem."
"Gone away? John Ward went with them?" I mumbled. "Which way did they
ride, Aunty?"
"Dat a-way." And she pointed to the sun, now sliced in half by Walker's
Mountain.
"You are sure they made for the mountains?"
"Dey gwine to slam right ag'in' 'em, den ride ober dem," she declared.
So after all my warnings the Dales were foolhardy enough to ride into
danger. Ericus Dale would not only stake his own life but even his
daughter's on his faith in red men. I recalled Cornstalk's pretended
friendship for the whites at Carr's Creek and on Jackson's River and the
price the settlers paid for their trustfulness.
"When did they ride?"
"Two days ergo. Bright 'n' early in de mornin'."
I ran to my horse and mounted. As I yanked his head about the servant
called after me:
"De missy have dem mogasums wif her."
The first stage of my journey was to Dunlap's Creek, although there was no
certainty that the Dales and Ward were taking that route. I had small
doubt, however, but that Dale was bound for the home of his cousin on
Howard's Creek. Unless he knew of some secret trace over the mountains he
would follow the open trail.
He would be more likely to go boldly and openly, I reasoned, because of
his belief there was nothing for him to fear. His daughter's convenience
would be better suited by the main traveled trails. As I hurried to the
west I paused at every habitation and inquired for the travelers. Always
the same reply; two men and a woman had been observed.
When I finally reached the Greenwood cabin at Dunlap's Creek I learned I
had gained a day because of Patricia's need for rest. She was an odd
bundle of contradictions. She felt superior to frontier women, and how
they would have smiled at the thought of recuperating after the easy
travel from Salem to the creek! Many of the women on the Greenbriar had
walked the entire distance over the mountains so that the pack-animals
might be used in carrying the jealously guarded and pitiably few
household-goods.
It was amazing to contemplate what a difference two or three hundred miles
could make in one's environment. Patricia Dale, soft and dainty, was used
to the flattery of the town, and, I feared, the attention of many beaux.
Her parents had known none of the comfortable places in life at her age;
and yet she had responded to her environment, had been petted by it, and
now she was a domestic kitten. I wondered if she would respond to her
ancestry if placed among arduous experiences. I knew the kitten would, and
therein I found hope for Patsy Dale.
I had been greatly shocked when told the girl was being taken over the
mountains. Now by some peculiar mental twist I was beginning to enjoy
secretly the prospect of seeing her again and in surroundings which
harmonized with long rifles and hunting-shirts. On the surface I persisted
in my anger at Dale and vehemently wished her back at Salem. Yet my guilty
anticipation endured, and as a sop to conscience I tried to make myself
believe there was no danger.
Howard's Creek could not be conquered so long as the settlers kept close
to the cabins and fort. I believed that or I should have urged a return of
all the women to the east side of the mountains. If the enemy, in force,
should lay a protracted siege, Howard's Creek would be remembered among
other bloody annals.
But I knew there would be no prolonged attempt to massacre the settlement.
Cornstalk was too wise a warrior to weaken his forces for a score of
scalps when a general engagement was pending. Let him win that and he
could take his time in blotting out every cabin west of the Alleghanies.
So after all it was neither difficult nor illogical to convince myself the
girl would be safe as long as she kept close to the creek.
Even Dale would not plan to take his daughter beyond the creek. If he
attempted it there were men enough to prevent the mad act. Across this
line of thought came the recollection of the Grisdols' fate. The girl
would be safe at Howard's Creek, but death lined the trace leading
thereto. My reason assured me Black Hoof's band had long since departed
from the mountains.
My fear that the girl was being led into an ambush threw me into a fine
sweat; and I pushed on the faster. I reviewed all the circumstances which
would preclude the possibility of an Indian attack on the three travelers.
There could be no Indians between Dunlap's and Howard's. Black Hoof's
losses at the Grisdol cabin, the venomous hatred of young Cousin stalking
them day and night and the appearance of Baby Kirst would surely hasten
their retreat.
But there would obtrude the terrible possibility of a few raiders hiding
along the trace, determined to strengthen their medicine with more white
scalps. But never once did I count in favor of the girl Dale's boasted
friendship with the Shawnees. Even my most visionary listing of assets
could not include that. I made a night-camp half-way across the mountains
and dined on cold provisions procured from the Greenwoods.
The morning brought optimism. By this time the girl was safe in the Davis
cabin. I finished my prepared food and resumed my journey. I had covered a
mile when a mounted figure turning a twist in the trace ahead sent me to
the ground. The two of us struck the ground at about the same moment. Our
rifles slid across the saddles as if we were puppets worked by the same
string. Then a voice called out:
"I won't shoot if you won't."
Of course he was white.
"Jesse Hughes!" I exclaimed, vaulting into the saddle. "These are queer
hunting-grounds for you." Then in sudden terror, "Are the Indians back
here in the mountains?"
"Devil take worse luck! No," he grumbled as he trotted to meet me. "I'm
going out to Greenwood's to see if I can't git a few shoots of powder."
"Have you seen Ericus Dale, the trader?" I anxiously asked.
"Yes, I seen the fool. He was making the creek when I come off. His gal
was with him and John Ward. Come pretty nigh potting that Ward feller.
He's a white man, but I can't git it out of my noodle that he ain't a'
Injun."
"How did Dale's girl stand the journey?"
The query surprised him, and he looked puzzled.
"Stand it?" he slowly repeated. "Why, she ain't sick or hurt, is she?"
I said something about her not being used to riding long distances.
"Long distances!" he snorted. "Wal, if a woman can't foller a smooth trace
on a good hoss for a day's ride, she ain't got no business west of the
mountains. I can't stick here swapping talk. I've got to push on and git
that powder. Curse the luck!"
"The Greenwoods have no powder to spare. He has less than half a pound."
"Black devils in a pipe! Howard's Creek will have to go to making bows and
arrers!"
"I've brought twenty pounds of powder and ten of lead from Salem," I
added. "Howard's Creek is welcome to it after I've outfitted myself."
"Hooray! That ends that cussed trip. Twenty pounds! Wal, I declare if
there won't be some rare killings! Now I'll hustle right back along with
you. I've felt all the time that some one would be gitting hair that
belonged to me if I come off the creek. Ten pounds of lead! Seven hundred
little pills! That'll let Runner, Hacker, Scott 'n' me strike for the
Ohio, where we can catch some of them red devils as they beat back home.
They'll be keerless and we oughter nail quite a few."
"Crabtree isn't going with you?"
"Ike ain't got no stummick for a reg'lar stand-up fight. He'll hang round
the creek and kill when he catches a red along."
"He'll get no powder from my stock to use around the creek," I declared.
Hughes eyed me moodily.
"What odds where they're killed so long as they're rubbed out?" he harshly
demanded.
"Women and children are the odds," I retorted. "Crabtree kills friendly
Indians. Even young Cousin, who hates reds as much as any man alive, won't
make a kill in a settlement unless the Indians are attacking it."
"That's the one weak spot in Cousin," regretted Hughes. "He's a good
hater. But he'd have a bigger count for that little sister of his if he'd
take them wherever he finds them. It's all damn foolishness to pick and
choose your spot for killing a red skunk. And this friendly Injun talk
makes me sick! Never was a time but what half the Shawnees and other
tribes was loafing 'round the settlements, pretending to be friends, while
t'other half was using the tomahawk and scalping-knife.
"That sort of medicine won't do for me. No, siree! Injuns are a pest, just
like wolves and painters, only worse. They must be wiped out. That's my
belief and I make it my business to wipe them out. Few men that's got
more'n me."
It's a waste of time to talk with a bloody-minded man. Hughes' brother was
killed by the Indians. As for that, there was hardly a settler in Virginia
who had not lost some dear friend or relative. When the history of the
country is written, it will surprise the coming generations to read the
many names having opposite them, "Killed by the Indians."
I was sorry I had met Hughes. His company grated on me. It was impossible
to think of Patsy Dale with the fellow's cruel babble ringing in my ears.
I remained silent and he garrulously recounted some of his many exploits,
and with gusto described how he had trapped various victims. It was his
one ambition of life. He cared nothing for land.
Offer him all of Colonel Washington's thirty-odd thousand acres on the
Ohio and Great Kanawha as a gift, and he would have none of them unless
they contained red men to slaughter. He had laid down a red path and it
was his destiny to follow it. I had no love for Shawnee or Mingo, but my
mind held room for something besides schemes for bloodletting.
And yet it was well for me that I had met Hughes the Indian-hater, and
doubly well that I had brought powder and lead so that he had turned back
with me. We were riding down the western slope and about clear of the
mountains, I trying to think my own thoughts and he talking, talking, his
words dripping blood, when ahead in the trace I spied something on the
ground that caused me to exclaim aloud.
It was a brightly beaded moccasin, very small, and strangely familiar even
at a distance. Hughes saw it and stared at it through half-closed lids. I
leaped from my horse and started forward to pick it up.
"Don't touch it;" yelled Hughes. "Come back! Come back!"
I heard him and understood his words, and yet I continued advancing while
I mechanically endeavored to guess his reason for stopping me.
"Jump, you fool!" he yelled as I stretched out my hand to pick up the
moccasin. And his horse was almost upon me and covering me with dirt as he
pivoted and slid into the bushes, his hindquarters hitting me and hurling
me over, half a dozen feet beyond the little moccasin. I landed on my head
and shoulders with the crack of a rifle echoing in my dazed ears.
Instinct sent me rolling out of the trace and into the bushes. By the time
I gained my knees and had cleared the dirt from my eyes Hughes was working
rapidly up the right-hand slope. His horse stood at the edge of the
bushes, rubbing noses with my animal. I kept under cover of the growth and
halted abreast of the moccasin.
There was a furrow within a few inches of its embroided toe. I broke a
branch and pawed the moccasin toward me and picked it up and went back to
the horses. Then I took time to examine my prize. It was one of the pair I
had given to Patsy Dale. She must have carried it carelessly to drop it in
the trace without discovering her loss. I slipped it into my hunting-shirt
and sat down to wait for Hughes. It was fully an hour before he came
back.
"Couldn't git a crack at him," he growled, his face grim and sullen. "But
you was a fool to be took in by such a clumsy trick as that."
"It's an old trick," I conceded, taking the moccasin from my shirt. "If it
had been any Indian finery I would have kept clear of it. But this happens
to belong to Ericus Dale's girl. She dropped it coming down the slope."
He heard this in astonishment and scratched his head helplessly.
"Then I must 'a' been asleep, or in a hell of a hurry when I come to this
slope," he muttered. "And it ain't just the right kind of a slope to go
galloping over. I don't understand it a bit. They was riding into the
settlement when I come out. I called to Dale and asked if he'd seen any
Injun signs. He told me he hadn't seen any. Then that feller Ward come
trotting out the woods, looking like a' Injun, and I was bringing up my
rifle to give him his needings when Dale let out a yelp and said he was a
white man. Wal, it'll tickle the gal to learn how near her moccasin come
to killing you."
"The Indian knew it was there and knew we were coming, and used it for
bait," I mused.
"A five-year-old child would know that," was the scornful rejoinder. "But
what no five-year-old on Howard's Creek would 'a' done was to go for to
git it after I'd called a halt. You must 'a' been foolish in your mind.
The Injun took a spot where he could line his gun on the moccasin. The
growth cut off any sight of the trace 'cept where the moccasin lay. All he
had to do was to line it and shoot when you stooped over it. The second he
couldn't see the moccasin he'd know some one's body was between it and
him. He heard me bawl out, but he didn't git sight of you till you was
over it, and by that time my old hoss give you a belt and made you keep on
moving."
"He undershot, yet as I was bending close to it he would have bagged me,"
I said. "I have to thank you for saving my life."
"Part of a day's work," he carelessly observed. "Wal, seeing as the skunk
has skedaddled, we might as well push on rather smart and tell the fellers
there's a loose red round these parts."
When we entered the settlement we saw men and women gathered in front of
the Davis cabin, frankly curious to see the newcomers and eager to volley
them with questions. I joined the group and through a window beheld Patsy
in animated conversation with what women could crowd inside. Mrs. Davis
was very proud of her cousin's daughter and was preening herself
considerably.
Patsy's cheeks were flushed and her tongue was racing as only a woman's
can. As she talked I could see she was trying to get used to the table of
split slabs and its four round legs set in auger-holes, the pewter
tableware and the spoons and bowls fashioned from wood, and the gourds and
hard-shell squash hollowed out for noggings.
With a slant of half-veiled eyes she also was studying the women's linsey
petticoats and bare feet, for now that it was warm weather many dispensed
with any foot-covering. In turn the women were openly examining the
texture and style of her town gown, and shrilly calling on one another to
come and admire her soft leather boots.
I did not see Dale, and Davis informed me he was inspecting the fort. As
Ward was not in sight I assumed he, too, was at the fort. Making my way to
the window, I caught Patsy's eye and handed her her lost moccasin.
She stared at the moccasin in bewilderment, but what with the newness of
her experience and the voluble praise of the women and the open-eyed
admiration of the men, she was finely excited. She forgot to ask where I
found the moccasin or how I happened to be there. She was in the act of
giving me a smile and a nod when Mrs. Davis tugged her to the
right-about.
Realizing it was useless to strive for the girl's attention until the
neighbors returned to their cabins, I walked to the fort, leading my
horse. Hughes was there ahead of me and stood with a group of sullen-faced
men who were being addressed by Ericus Dale.
"I say there ain't going to be any war," he cried as I took a position
behind him. "The Indians don't want war. They want trade. Take a pack of
goods on your horse and walk into a Shawnee village and see how quick
they'll quit the war-post to buy red paint and cloth.
"Open a keg of New England rum among the Mingos and see how quick they'll
drop their axes and hunt for tin dippers. Take blankets and beads to the
Wyandots and watch them hang up white wampum. Take----"
"Oh, that's all fool talk!" thundered Hughes crowding forward and staring
angrily into the trader's deep-set eyes. "You can't lead a pack-hoss fifty
miles from this creek without losing your hair, neighbor."
"I can! I will!" wrathfully replied Dale. "I've traded for years with the
Indians. I never yet went to them with a gun in my hand. If ever I need
protection, they'll protect me. They are my friends. This war is all
wrong. You can have it if you insist. But if you'd rather have trade, then
you needn't build any more forts west of the Alleghanies."
Hughes laughed hoarsely and called out to the silent settlers:
"What do you fellers say to all this twaddle? Any of you believe it?"
Uncle Dick, whom I had left whetting his knife on the stones of the Davis
fireplace, gave a cackling laugh and answered:
"Believe it? No! But it's fun to hear him splutter."
The men smiled grimly. They had held back from affronting their neighbor's
cousin. They looked upon Dale much as they looked on Baby Kirst when he
came to the settlement and whimpered because he could not find ripe
berries to pick. They were deciding that Dale was mentally irresponsible;
only his malady took a different twist than did Baby's. He was an
Indian-lover instead of hater. Dale's dark face flushed purple with anger.
By an effort he controlled himself and said:
"All right. You men want a fight. I'm afraid you'll have it. But I tell
you that if Dunmore would call off that dog of a Connolly at Fort Pitt I
could go among the Ohio Indians and make a peace which would last."
"How about the Injuns being willing for us to go down into the Kentucky
country?" spoke up Moulton.
"If you want peace with the Indian, you must let him keep a place to hunt
and live in. He can't live if you take away his hunting-grounds."
"Then let's take 'em away so they'll die out tarnation fast," cried Elijah
Runner.
Drawing himself up and speaking with much dignity, Dale said:
"I am sorry for any of you men who came out here to make homes if you will
let a few Indian-killers, who never make homes, spoil your chances for
getting ahead."
"We don't go for to kill every Injun we see," said Davis, heretofore
silent. "I'm a fambly-man. I don't want Injuns butchered here in the
settlement like as Ike Crabtree done for Cherokee Billy. No sense in
that."
"That's what I say, too," agreed another. And this endorsement of Davis'
view became quite general. Of course I had known right along that the
settlers as a whole did not look with favor upon indiscriminate slaughter
of the natives. Dale nodded his approval and said:
"Well, that's something. Only you don't go far enough."
Hughes angrily took up the talk, declaring:
"You cabin-men are mighty tickled to have us Injun-hating fellers come
along when there's any chance of trouble. I've noticed that right along."
"Course we are, Jesse," agreed Davis. "But that don't mean we're mighty
glad when some of you kill a friendly Injun in the settlement and, by
doing so, bring the fighting to us."
"I 'low we've outstayed our welcome," Hughes grimly continued. "You folks
foller this man's trail and it'll lead you all to the stake. I'm moving on
to-night."
"Don't go away mad, Jesse," piped up old Uncle Dick. "Talk don't hurt
nothin'. Stick along an' git your fingers into the fightin' what's bound
to come."
"I'm going away to kill Injuns," was the calm reply. "That's my
business."
"Hacker, Scott 'n' me will go along with you," said Runner. "Now that
Howard's Creek has got a trader to keep the Injuns off, we ain't needed
here no more."
"I can keep the Indians away," cried Dale. "When I offer them my belts,
they'll be glad to receive them. You send them a few trade-belts in place
of the bloody ax and they'll be your friends, too."
"Bah!" roared Hughes, too disgusted to talk.
"What does the white Injun say?" yelled one of the young men.
He had barely put the query before John Ward stalked through the fort door
and stood at Dale's elbow. Speaking slowly and stressing his words in that
jerky fashion that marks an Indian's speech in English, he said:
"The trader is right. I have been a prisoner among Indians for many years.
I know their minds. Dale can go anywhere among Indians where he has been
before, and no hand will be lifted against him."
"You're a liar!" passionately cried Hughes, his hand creeping to his
belt.
Ward folded his arms across his deep chest and stared in silence at Hughes
for nearly a minute; then slowly said:
"No Indian ever called me that. It's a man of my own race that uses the
word to me."
"And a mighty cheap sample of his race," boomed Dale, his heavy face
convulsed with rage. "A cheap killer, who must strike from behind! Faugh!
It's creatures like you----" With an animal screech Hughes jumped for him.
Before we could seize the infuriated man Ward's arm was thrust across his
chest and with the rigidity of a bar of iron stopped the assault. Before
Hughes could pull knife or ax from his belt we hustled him into the
background. His three friends scowled ferociously but offered no
interference. It was obvious that the settlers as a body would not
tolerate any attack on Dale.
Inarticulate with rage, Hughes beckoned for Hacker, Scott and Runner to
follow him. A few rods away he halted and called out:
"Dale, I'll live to hear how your red friends have danced your scalp. Then
I'll go out and shoot some of them. That white Injun beside you will be
one of the first to stick burning splinters into your carcass. He's lived
with redskins too long to forget his red tricks. Come on, fellers."
This sorry disturbance depressed the spirits of the settlers. War was on,
and there was none of the Howard's Creek men who believed that any change
in their attitude could prevent the Ohio Indians from slaying at every
opportunity. No matter how much they might decry the acts of Hughes and
his mates in time of peace, there was no denying the fighting-value of the
quartet when it came to war.
No word was spoken until the last of the four killers had filed away to
secure their horses and be gone. Then Davis said:
"Time to eat, Ericus. Let's go back and see how the women-folks is gettin'
along."
"Keep that white scum from this creek until I can carry a bag of talk to
Cornstalk and Logan and you won't need any armed bullies to protect you,"
said Dale.
"We ain't askin' of 'em to look after us, nor you with your white belts,
neither," shrilly proclaimed Uncle Dick.
Some of the younger men laughed.
Dale reddened, but turned to walk with his cousin without making any
answer. He all but bumped into me.
"Why, Morris!" he greeted, staring at me in surprise. "You bob up
everywhere. Will you go with me to the Scioto villages?"
"Go as what?" I cautiously asked. The men gathered closer about us.
"Go as a trader, carrying white wampum. Go to make peace with the
Shawnees," slowly replied Dale, his eyes burning with the fire of
fanaticism.
"Not hankering for slow fires, nor to have squaws heap coals on my head, I
must refuse," I retorted. "But I'll go with you or any man, as a scout."
"In your blood, too," he jeered. "I didn't suppose you'd been out here
long enough to lose your head."
"I'd certainly lose it if the Shawnees got me," I good-naturedly retorted.
My poor jest brought a rumble of laughter from the men and added to Dale's
resentment, which I greatly regretted.
John Ward glided to my side and said:
"You talk like a child. I have been long among the Indians. They did not
take my head."
I didn't like the fellow. There was something of the snake in his way of
stealthily approaching. I could not get it out of my head that he must be
half-red. Had he been all Indian, I might have found something in him to
fancy; for there were red men whom I had liked and had respected
immensely. But Ward impressed me as being neither white nor red. He
stirred my bile. Without thinking much, I shot back at him:
"Perhaps they did something worse to you than to take your head. Are you
sure they didn't take your heart?"
He turned on his heel and stalked away. Dale snarled:
"You're worse than Hughes and those other fools. You even hate a poor
white man who has been held prisoner by the Indians. He comes back to his
people and you welcome him by telling him he's a renegade. Shame on you!"
"No call for that sort of talk to Ward at all!" denounced Davis.
"What call had Ward to say he was a fool?" loudly demanded one of the
young men.
"I shouldn't have said that," I admitted, now much ashamed of my
hot-headedness. "I'll say as much to Ward when I see him next. If he'd
look and act more like a white man then I'd keep remembering that he is
white. But I shouldn't have said that."
"Morris, that's much better," said Dale. "I'll tell him what you said and
you needn't eat your words a second time in public. I admire you for
conquering yourself and saying it."
Uncle Dick did not relish my retraction, and his near-sighted eyes glared
at me in disgust.
"Too much talkin'. Scouts oughter be out. Our friends, th' killers, have
quit us."
Glad to be alone, I volunteered:
"I'll scout half the circle, striking west, then south, returning on the
east side."
Moulton, a quiet, soft-spoken fellow, but a very demon in a fight, picked
up his rifle and waved his hand to his wife and little girl and trotted in
the opposite direction, calling back over his shoulder:
"I'll go east, north and half-down the west side."
I finished on the north leg at the point where Moulton had commenced his
scout. I made no discoveries while out. I walked to the fort and was glad
to see that Moulton had but recently come in. I returned to the Davis
cabin and passed behind it. So far as I could observe no sentinels had
been posted on the east side of the clearing. In front of the cabin burned
a big fire and there was a confusion of voices.
I gained a position at the end of the cabin, and from the shadows viewed
the scene. It was old to me, but new to Patsy, and she was deeply
interested. The young men had erected a war-post, and had painted the
upper half red. Now they were dancing and cavorting around the post like
so many red heathens, bowing their heads nearly to the ground and then
throwing them far back. They were stripped to the waist and had painted
their faces, and as they danced they stuck their axes into the post and
whooped and howled according to the Indian ceremony of declaring war.
"I don't like it!" I heard Dale protest.
"But the boys only wanted Patsy to see how the Injuns git ready for war,"
defended Mrs. Davis. "An', lor'! Ain't she all took up by it!"
"But it's the way the border men declared war after the murder at Yellow
Creek," declared Dale. "They stripped and painted and struck the post and
danced around it."
"They'll be through mighty soon now, Ericus," soothed Davis, who was
uneasy between his fears of displeasing his wife's cousin and giving
offense to the young men. "They meant well."
"All such actions mean ill for the settlers," growled Dale. "They'd best
finish at once."
Davis did not have to incur his neighbors' ill-will by asking the dancers
to cease their ceremony, as Dale's speech was closely followed by a volley
from the west side of the clearing. A dancer went down, coughing and
clawing at his throat, while yelps of surprise and pain told me others had
been wounded. I raised my rifle and fired toward the flashes.
With the promptness of seasoned veterans the young men kicked the fire to
pieces and grabbed up their rifles and advanced toward the hidden foe,
their movements being barely perceptible even while within reach of the
light streaming from the cabins.
It was not until I had fired and was reloading that I was conscious of
Patsy's ear-splitting shrieks. I heard her father fiercely command her to
be still, then command Davis to recall the young men now lost in the
darkness. A stentorian voice began shouting:
"All women to the fort! Put out all lights!"
One by one the candles were extinguished. Patsy was silent, and across the
clearing came the low voices of the women, driving their children before
them and urging them to hurry. Dark forms were discernible close at hand
and were those settlers apportioned to defend the fort.
Davis was commanding his wife to take Patsy to the fort while there was
yet time, and she was refusing. The savages must have heard the men and
women leaving the outlying cabins, for they started to rush from the woods
only to fall back before a brisk volley from the young men now scouting
well to the front.
I walked to the cabin door just as the war-whoop of the Shawnees announced
an attack in force. I was standing by Patsy's side, but she did not see
me. She had both hands clapped over her ears, her lips parted but uttering
no sound. Now there came a rush of feet and the young men fell back, some
making into the fort, others, as previously assigned, entering the cabins
close to the fort. Three came to the Davis cabin, and I entered with them,
leading Patsy. Some one, I think it was Davis, dragged Dale inside.
The trader seemed to be paralyzed, for he had remained voiceless during
the stirring events. And it had all been a matter of a few minutes. I
jumped through the doorway just as a young man began closing it. The
Shawnees were yelling like demons and approaching to close range very
cautiously, feeling out each rod of the ground.
The sally of the young men had taught them they could not have all things
their own way. I scouted toward the fort to make sure all the women and
children had made cover, but before I could reach the log walls I heard
Dale's voice shouting for attention. I dropped behind a stump, and as the
savages ceased their howling I heard him hoarsely crying:
"It is the Pack-Horse-Man speaking. Do the Shawnees fire guns at the
Pack-Horse-Man? My friends live here. Do the Shawnees hurt the friends of
the Pack-Horse-Man? I give you a belt to wash the red paint from your
faces. I give you a belt to make the road smooth between the Greenbriar
and the Scioto. By this belt the nettles and rocks shall be removed from
the road. I will cover the bones of your dead, if any fell to-night, with
many presents."
He was either very brave or crazy. For now he left the cabin and began
walking toward the hidden Shawnees, his confident voice repeating the fact
he was the red man's friend, that he brought white belts, that the red and
white men should eat from one dish, and that a hole should be dug to the
middle of the earth and the war-ax buried there and a mighty river turned
from its ancient bed to flow over the spot so that the ax could never be
found.
His amazing boldness brought the hush of death over cabins and forts. My
horse, secured in the small stockaded paddock near the fort, whinnied for
me to come to him, and his call in that tense stillness set my nerves to
jumping madly. Dale was now close to the warriors. Every minute I expected
to see a streak of fire, or hear the crunch of an ax. Trailing my rifle
and bent double, I stole after him. From the forest a deep voice shouted:
"The belts of the Pack-Horse-Man are good belts. Black Hoof's warriors do
not harm the friends of the Pack-Horse-Man. Sleep with your cabin doors
open to-night and you shall hear nothing but the call of the night birds
and the voice of the little owl talking with the dead."
I now discovered that the Shawnees had silently retreated to the woods at
the beginning of Dale's advance. The declaration of peace as given by the
Indian--and I was convinced it was the famous Black Hoof talking--was in
the Shawnee tongue. Dale faced to the cabins and fort and triumphantly
interpreted it. From deep in the forest came a pulsating cry, the farewell
of the marauders, as they swiftly fell back toward New River. I was
suspicious of some Indian trick and yelled a warning for the men to keep
in the cabins.
Dale became very angry, and upbraided me:
"It's the like of you that spoils the Indian's heart. You men have heard
what the Black Hoof says. You men and women of Howard's Creek are foolish
to believe this young fool's words. The Shawnees have gone. You heard
their travel-cry. They have left none behind to harm by treachery. I told
you I could keep the Indians from attacking this settlement. Could your
friends, the killers, have sent them away so quickly? I think not. Open
your doors. Light your candles. Make merry if you will. There is nothing
in the forest to harm you."
"Keep inside till I and some of the young men have scouted the woods.
Three men from the fort will be enough," I loudly shouted.
Dale was furious, but that was nothing when the women and children had to
be remembered. Soon a soft pattering of moccasins, and three youths stood
before me. Choosing one, I set off in the direction the Indians apparently
had taken. The other two were to separate, one scouting south and the
other north, to discover any attempt at a surprise attack by swinging back
to the creek in a half-circle.
My companion and I, although hampered by the darkness, penetrated some
miles toward New River. In returning, we separated, one swinging south and
the other north. The first morning light was burning the mists from the
creek when I reentered the clearing. My companion came in an hour later.
The other two had returned much earlier, having had a much shorter course
to cover. We all made the same report; no signs of Indians except those
left by them in their retreat.
I sat outside the Davis cabin and Patsy brought me some food. She was very
proud of her father and carried her small figure right grandly. Her
attitude toward the women was that of a protector; and they, dear souls,
so thankful to be alive, so eager to accept the new faith, fairly
worshiped the girl.
The one exception was the Widow McCabe. She paid homage to no one. And
while she said nothing to the chorus of admiring exclamations directed at
the trader there was the same cold glint in the slate-gray eyes, and she
walked about with her skirts tucked up and an ax in her hand.
I made no effort to talk with Patsy. Her frame of mind was too exalted for
speech with a skeptical worm. She smiled kindly on me, much as a goddess
designs to sweeten the life of a mortal with a glance. She smiled in
gentle rebuke as she noted my torn and stained garments and the moccasins
so sadly in need of patching.
"You silly boy! It wasn't necessary. When will you learn, Morris?" It was
not intended that I should answer this, for she turned away graciously to
receive the blessings of the women. Thus, vicariously, was Ericus Dale
recognized as a great man. And the trader walked among the morning clouds.
For some hours the savor of his triumph stifled speech, and he wandered
about while the women paid their tribute through his daughter.
Nor were the men lacking in appreciation. The younger generation remained
silent, secretly wishing their bravery and marksmanship had scattered the
foe, yet unable to deny that Dale's medicine had been very powerful. Those
with families stared upon him as they might gaze on one who had looked on
David.
They congregated around the Davis cabin after the morning meal and forgot
there was much work to be done. They were eager to renew their fires of
this new faith by listening to him. And after his exaltation had softened
enough to permit of speech the trader once more harangued them on his
influence over the natives. He was constantly in motion, his swinging arms
keeping a path clear as he strode through the group and back again and
addressed the mountains and horizon. He was too full of the sweets of a
peaceful victory to confine his utterance to any individual, and he spoke
to the whole frontier.
He concluded a long and eloquent speech by saying:
"So after all, as you settlers have learned, the Ohio tribes, yes, and all
tribes, will always hark to the one word--trade. They are now dependent
upon the white man for traps and guns, even their women's clothing. Trade
with them and they will remain your friends, for your goods they must
have.
"You can plant your war-posts three feet apart along the whole length of
Virginia, and you'll always have work for your rifles and axes until the
last Indian-hunter is killed. I admit they can be exterminated, but you'll
pay an awful price in doing it. But give them a chance to live, carry
trade-belts to them, and you shall have peace."
Even Uncle Dick, the aged one, had nothing to say. But it was Patsy I was
watching while Dale talked. She never took her eyes from him, and her gaze
was idolatrous in its love. She believed in his powers implicitly; and to
bask in the reflection of his greatness was the sweetest triumph she had
ever experienced. Throughout that day the scouts were busy in the forest,
ranging very far on the track of Black Hoof's band. When they began
dropping in after sundown all their reports were alike.
There were no Indian-signs besides those left by the departing Shawnee
band. This band, said the scouts, was very large and quite sufficient to
cause the settlement much trouble and inevitable losses. There was no
mistaking the story told by the trail. The Indians had marched rapidly,
swinging north.
Every emotion, unless it be that of love, must have its ebb; and by
nightfall the settlers were returning to their old caution. Dale did not
relish this outcropping of old habits. Throwing open the door of the Davis
cabin after Davis had closed and barred it, he cried: "Let us have air.
There is no danger. You're like silly children afraid of the dark. Your
scouts have told you there are no Indians near. Yet the minute the sun
sets you imagine the woods are full of them. I will go out alone and
unarmed and I will shout my name. If any Shawnee who was not in Black
Hoof's band hears my voice he will come to me. After he learns I have
friends here on Howard's Creek, he will go away. Give me time to act
before that scoundrel Connolly can stir up more trouble and I'll make a
lasting peace between the Greenbriar, the Clinch and the Holston and the
Ohio tribes; and I'll make Dunmore look like a fool."
His overpowering personality, his massive way of asserting things made a
deep impression on the simple folks. They asked only for a chance to plant
and reap. When he went out alone that night he brought them deep under his
spell. As he plunged into the forest and stumbled about he took pains to
advertise his presence. Unknown to the settlers, I trailed him. I was
within ten feet of him when he halted and shouted his name, and in their
language called on the Shawnees to come to him.
For half an hour he wandered about, proclaiming he was the Pack-Horse-Man,
the ancient friend of the Shawnees and Mingos. Let him be a fool according
to Jesse Hughes' notion, yet he was a very brave man. He had the courage
to attempt proof of his belief in the honesty of the Shawnees.
I trailed him back to the cabin door. I saw the girl's radiant face as she
proudly threw her arms about his neck. I saw the great pride in his own
face as he stood in the middle of the floor and harshly demanded:
"Now, who will you believe; Dale, the trader, or Hughes, the killer?"
It was all mighty dramatic, and it was not surprising that it should
affect the settlers keenly. It shook my skepticism a bit, but only for the
moment. If I could not feel a full confidence in John Ward, born white,
how could I place a deep and abiding trust in those who were born red? Had
not Cornstalk and other chiefs, the best of their breed, sworn friendship
to the whites in Virginia in 1759 and during Pontiac's War? Had they not
feasted with old friends, and then, catching them off their guard, chopped
them down? Black Hoof had drawn off his raiders; so far, so good. But I
looked to my flints none the less carefully that night and made the rounds
to see that reliable men were on guard. The night passed with nothing to
disturb the settlement's rest.