DALE ESCAPES
When I recovered my senses I was being dragged over the ground by means of
a cord around my chest and under my arms. My wrists were lashed together
and my ankles were likewise secured. The first thing my eyes beheld were
the red loopholes and window of the lower cabin, and the flames crawling
through the two holes I had made in the roof.
My capture had revealed our desertion of the cabin, and the Indians had
lost no time in entering and firing it. Smoke and flames were pouring from
the end window of the Granville cabin also. As the red tongues licked
across the top of the doorway they threw into relief the arm and hand of
the old Englishman still hanging over the threshold.
My head felt as though it was cracked wide open and it throbbed most
sickeningly. I managed to lift it a bit to escape further bruises as my
captor roughly hauled me to the forest. The third cabin, the one occupied
by the Dales, burst into flames as I was being yanked into the first
fringe of bushes. The valley was now brightly lighted, and my last view of
it included the lick-block. One phase of a successful Indian raid was
missing; there were no warriors madly dancing about the burning homes. Far
up the ridge rang out the infuriated cry of a panther, and I knew it was
fear of young Cousin's deadly rifle that was keeping the savages under
cover.
"Let me stand up and walk," I said in Shawnee.
"Alive are you?" growled a white man's voice in English.
"You'll be John Ward," I said as some one lifted me to my feet.
"I am Red Arrow, a Shawnee. And don't you forget it."
"Where are the Dales?" I asked.
"Keep your mouth shut!" he ordered.
They untied my hands only to fasten them behind me. They shifted the
waist-cord to my neck, and then released my feet. Some one walked ahead,
pulling on the cord, and I followed as best I could to escape being
strangled. On each side of me walked a warrior, invisible except as when
we crossed a glade where the starlight filtered down. Ward walked behind
me, and warned:
"Any tricks and you'll get my ax."
"You were in the cabin with the dead Englishman?"
He chuckled softly and boasted:
"I killed him. When you two were fighting fire I got my chance to steal
down to the Dale cabin. Then it was easy to make the Granville cabin. The
old fool thought I was one of you when he heard my voice, and drew the
bar. I was inside and had his life before he knew he had made a mistake. I
waited. Then you crawled along. Curse that damned young devil who yells
like a panther! He was the one I wanted. I'd give a thousand of such as
you to get his hair! But he got by the door without my hearing him. A
little more, and you'd have passed, too."
There was much crashing and running through the bushes behind us, and
occasionally I could make out dark shapes hurrying by. These were the
warriors who had fired the cabins, and now they were in haste to leave the
spot. Owing to their fear of Cousin they dared not leave the valley except
as they did so under cover. We made good time through the woods, however,
although more than once my gasping cry warned Ward, or one of the savages
at my side, that I was being choked to death.
As a premature demise was not on their program the cord was quickly
loosened each time, and the man ahead warned to be more careful. These
partial strangulations resulted from the fellow's anxiety to escape from
the neighborhood of the double-barrel rifle. On reaching the Bluestone we
halted while the savages collected their horses. From the few words
exchanged I estimated that half the band was mounted. Without building a
fire or eating we started up the Bluestone. Neither Black Hoof nor the
Dales were with our party when we halted at daybreak. We paused only long
enough to bolt some half-cooked deer-meat. I asked for the trader and his
daughter, and Ward laughed and shook before my face the scalps he had
taken in the Granville cabin. Two of them were pitiably small.
"You scalp other men's kills," I observed.
"You'll not say that when I scalp you."
"What does Dale now think of his Indian friends?"
This seemed to amuse him tremendously, and he laughed like a white man.
"He doesn't seem to know what has happened," he finally replied with much
relish. "He stares at us, then at the girl, as if trying to understand."
"What about the girl?"
"That's enough. Keep still," he warned, and made a threatening gesture
with his ax.
My hands, which had been released long enough for me to eat, were trussed
up again. My rough usage and the travel had worn on me, but I had no
desire to rest so long as Patricia Dale was to be found. My captors also
had a definite plan--one that demanded haste. By daylight I perceived by
the signs that the greater number of the band had gone ahead, probably
under the lead of Black Hoof.
Unless the Dales had been butchered in the woods they must be with the
chief; and I could not believe they were dead. They would be too valuable
as hostages should the settlers gather in force to block the Shawnees'
return to the Ohio. Those of the Indians who had horses, with the
exception of two, rode off. One of the mounted men to remain was Ward, who
came behind me. The other was the Indian holding the cord.
It was plain that every savage in the band was eager to advance with all
possible haste, nor was it fear of Cousin that was now driving them.
Finally my aching head understood it all; the Howard's Creek settlement
was to be attacked and the savages afoot were afraid they would arrive too
late to participate.
On our left rose the wall of Great Flat Top Mountain, a short chain, in
reality a continuation of Tug Ridge. On the right rose ridge after ridge
of the Alleghanies, punctuated by Peter's Mountain, where New River burst
through the wall in its quest for the Ohio. A wild land, and yet birds,
bees and deer were here, and the soil was ripe for happy homes.
I managed to keep up until after midday, when my legs suddenly refused to
carry me farther. I told Ward to tomahawk me if he wished, but that I must
rest before moving another step. There was no question as to his
inclination, for his brown hand fondled his ax most longingly. He
dismounted and boosted me on to his horse. The rest of the day was covered
with me riding first Ward's and then the savage's animal.
We camped at dusk that night, and I was too exhausted to swallow more than
a few mouthfuls of food before falling asleep. Before sunrise we were up
and hurrying through the gray mists and reversing the route Cousin and I
had followed on traveling to the valley. I recognized several of the camps
where the Dales and Ward had halted when the brute was leading them into
the death-trap.
"You nearly got me by dropping the girl's moccasin in the mountains," I
informed him.
The abruptness of the accusation took him off his guard. With a wide grin
he said:
"Stole it from her just before we entered the settlement. Saw Hughes
striking into the hills and planned to catch him. But he got too far ahead
for me to ride around him. Dogged him until he met you, then rode back and
laid my trap. Hughes was the man I was after. His hair would count for a
dozen scalps like yours."
"But you didn't care to try a shot unless it could be from behind and sure
to kill," I taunted.
"You'll pay a high price for that," he quietly assured me. "The chief says
you are to be brought in alive. We will soon see how brave you are with
the girl looking on. Men should be very brave men when their squaws are
watching."
I was afoot and walking at his side. I lowered my head and tried to butt
him from the saddle. He kicked me in the chest and the warrior yanked on
the cord and threw me down on my face and all but strangled me. After that
Ward and I had no more words. He rode either ahead, or some distance
behind, leaving one of the Indians to walk at my heels. I have no doubt he
did this to avoid any temptation to brain me. I lost track of time, for we
traveled far into the night when the footing was good. We snatched a few
hours' sleep when absolutely necessary and fed indifferently. When I could
walk no farther I was placed on one of the two horses. I hoped that Cousin
in escaping from Abb's Valley had taken our horses with him; and I prayed
he would reach Howard's Creek ahead of Black Hoof.
At last we came to the outskirts of an Indian camp, which I estimated to
be within less than half a mile of the creek settlement. A dozen warriors
swarmed forward to greet us, welcoming me with exaggerated courtesy. While
they were thus mocking me Black Hoof appeared, moving with great dignity,
and dispersing my tormentors with a gesture.
I was led into the camp and my cord made fast to a tree. There was no air
of triumph about the place. A warrior reclining on a pile of boughs and
nursing a shattered shoulder suggested a futile attack on the cabins. I
glanced about for a display of fresh scalps and rejoiced at beholding
none.
The Indians stared at me malevolently, but offered me no abuse. Ward
proudly flourished the hair he had retrieved from the Granville cabin, and
the trophies were soon fastened to a tall pole and paraded around the
camp, after which demonstration the pole was stuck upright in the ground.
It required a second examination of the place to locate Dale. Like myself
he was tied to a tree with sufficient length of cord to permit him to lie
down. His face was heavy with unspeakable horror. When he met my gaze he
did not seem to recognize me at first. Then he muttered:
"You, too!"
My heart ached when I failed to discover any trace of Patricia. Before I
could question the trader, Ward yanked me to my feet and turned me about,
and I found myself looking into the eyes of Black Hoof.
"The young man made a very brave fight," he said.
"It is sad to know a skunk and not a Shawnee warrior captured me," I
replied.
Ward glared murder at me. Black Hoof gave him a warning glance, and
informed me:
"Red Arrow is a Shawnee warrior. Very brave. Very cunning. He will help us
take the cabins on the creek."
"You have tried once?" I asked, glancing at the man with the broken
shoulder.
The chief's brows contracted.
"Some of my young men were very foolish," he replied. "When Catahecassa
tries, the first time will be the last."
From the direction of the settlement came the scream of a panther, and at
the sound the camp seemed to stir uneasily. With a fiery glance at the
warriors Black Hoof gave an order, and a score of men glided into the
forest. To me he quietly said:
"There was a panther's whelp in the little valley we did not get. The
Shawnees would dance his scalp ahead of all the hair growing in any of
these valleys. He rode to the settlement ahead of me. But we shall get
them now. We shall get him. Then we will see if his war-cry is strong when
he feels fire."
"Where is the white woman? Did you kill her?" I asked, and I had to fight
myself to keep my voice from shaking.
Without deigning to answer he turned and walked over to Dale. At almost
the same moment Patricia and Shelby Cousin's sister entered the camp.
Patricia walked ahead, the Cousin girl a few feet behind her. I forgot the
cord and eagerly started to join her.
Ward snarled like an animal and jerked on the cord and pulled me violently
back. Patricia glanced in our direction, and I saw her hand fly to her
heart as she stared at me with lips parted. Black Hoof noticed this bit of
drama, and wheeling about, he harshly commanded:
"Let Red Arrow remember I am chief. If the white man would talk to the
white woman do not stop him. See that his hands are well tied and put
hobbles on his legs."
"If I had my way with you!" hissed Ward.
An Indian slipped the cord from the tree and with it trailing behind me I
hurried to the girl. She dropped on a log, her face a white mask of
terror. Cousin's sister remained a few paces behind her. Her face was
expressionless, but she did not remove her gaze from Patricia. Perhaps
Patsy was the first white woman she had seen whose freshness suggested her
own youth. Recognizing my desire to talk with the prisoner she withdrew,
keeping in sight but out of hearing.
"At least they have not tied you," I said.
"I go and come as I will," was the listless answer.
"With the woman to watch you?"
"Not if I want to be alone."
"You mean you are free to go and come unwatched?" I demanded.
She nodded her head.
"Then why haven't you tried to make the settlement? It is near. Listen.
Shelby Cousin is here. The Indians can't afford the time it will take to
capture the place. Walk along into the woods. Go due east. By God's grace
I believe you can make it!"
"Basdel, you forget," she sorrowfully reproached. "You forget my father is
here. That is why they give me my freedom."
"He would rejoice and thank God if you would do as I say."
"But the Indian woman with the blue eyes has told me in English that if I
run away they will hurt him terribly."
Poor child! As if her presence could save Ericus Dale from dying the death
once Black Hoof found time to indulge in his favorite pastime. I
vehemently begged her to flee, promising all sorts of absurd things if she
would but do so, even to assuring her I would effect her father's
release.
She slowly shook her head, tempted not the least by my pleas.
"Even the Indians know me better than that. And to think we trusted them!
Oh, Basdel, it doesn't seem possible! You were right. Father was wrong.
God help him! And now they have taken you!"
"All will be well yet," I faltered.
"Yes, all will be well," she gently said. "All will be well, when we are
dead and at peace."
"Patsy! Patsy!" I begged. "Don't give up hope. Don't lose your courage!
Why, there's a dozen chances for us to fool these devils."
She patted my tied hands, and murmured:
"You're a good boy, Basdel. You were patient when I abused you. You told
me the truth. I am out of place out here. If I were a pioneer woman I
could help you plan to escape, but I am only a silly fool from over the
mountains. I am absolutely helpless. But you've been good to me, Basdel.
You followed me into that horrible valley. You were caught because you
tried to help us. Oh, the shame of it! The hideous cruelty of it! That you
were caught--Basdel, I pray my last thought will be about your goodness to
me. Just that."
She was at the limit of her endurance and I backed away and Cousin's
sister glided forward. I flogged my mind for a scheme of escape which
would include her; her father, if possible. But it was as she had said;
she was no pioneer woman, resourceful and daring. The Shawnees saw her
helplessness, else they never would have allowed her the freedom of the
camp and surrounding woods.
They knew she would never leave her father, and that she lacked the border
woman's daring initiative so necessary in any attempt to free him. As I
was casting about for some plan to save her Black Hoof glided to my side
and took me by the arm and led me toward the tree where Dale was lying.
This closer inspection of the trader revealed how fearfully he had
suffered in his mind. The flesh of his strong face hung in folds as if his
skin had suddenly become many sizes too large for him. His eyes had
retreated deeper into the sockets, and his thick lips, once so firm and
domineering, were loose and flabby. Black Hoof stirred him contemptuously
with his foot. Dale dragged himself to a sitting posture and began
shivering as if suffering from ague.
"Oh, my God, Morris!" he groaned.
"The Pack-Horse-Man can save his life," sententiously began Black Hoof.
"My daughter?" gasped Dale, rising on his knees.
"He shall save his daughter's life," added the chief.
Dale moistened his lips and tried to recover some of his old spirit.
"Never mind, Morris. Give me a little time. I'll get us all out of this
fix. They're angry now. When they've had time to think they'll be
reasonable. If they kill me, they'll kill their trade with the whites." It
was the first time I ever heard him pronounce the word without stressing
it.
Black Hoof glowered at the miserable man ferociously and said:
"You will go to the edge of the clearing with my warriors. You will speak
to the settlers and tell them they shall save their lives if they put down
their guns. After they put down their guns you and your daughter shall go
free."
The picture of Abb's Valley and the result of his trusting in the
Shawnees' promises must have flashed across the unhappy man's mind. He
sank, feebly moaning:
"No, no! Not that! The blood of the Granvilles--the little children--is on
me. Kill me, but I'll lead no more into your trap."
These were brave words even if brokenly voiced. But Black Hoof heard with
grim amusement in his small black eyes.
"You weak-hearted dog!" he hissed. "So you tell Catahecassa what he will
and what he will not, do. Ho! You fat white man who always planned to
cheat the Indians in a trade. You fill your ears against Catahecassa's
words? Ho! Then you are a brave man. The Shawnees have been blind not to
see your brave heart. Now, white trader, hear my talk. You will do as
Catahecassa says, or you will be tied to a tree and your daughter shall be
put to the torture before your eyes."
With a terrible cry Dale fell over on his side and remained unconscious.
There was a second shriek, and the girl was pushing Black Hoof aside as
she hastened to kneel by her father. The chief darted a glance of
admiration at her for her display of courage. The girl was blind to our
presence as she fondled and petted the stricken man until he opened his
eyes. Black Hoof was pleased to have her there as a means of breaking down
the trader's will. Leaning over her shoulder to stare down into the
terrified eyes of his victim the chief warned:
"Unless the settlers give themselves up it shall be as I have said. It
must be before the sun goes down. Tell her all I have said."
With that he dragged me back to my tree. For a few minutes the chief's
horrible threat dulled my mind to the point of stupidity. He waited for me
to collect my thoughts. At last I managed to ask:
"What you said back there was a trick of course? You would never torture
the daughter of the Pack-Horse-Man?"
"Unless he does as told she must die," he calmly assured me. "She will die
soon anyway. She is not strong enough to live our life, like the blue-eyed
squaw over there." And he glanced toward Cousin's sister. "Her children
would be neither red nor white. They would have squaw-hearts. If the
trader does not speak words that will bring the settlers from their cabins
with empty hands she shall be tortured until he does speak."
I do not remember falling, yet I found myself on the ground, and Black
Hoof had departed. In his place stood Ward, staring at me curiously.
"You went down as if hit with an ax," he grunted.
"My legs are weak from hard travel and poor food," I said.
Patricia Dale passed quite close to us, a gourd of water in her hands. She
was carrying it to her father. Ward exclaimed in English:
"What a woman!"
His brawny figure seemed to dilate and he made a queer hissing noise as he
looked after her. Turning to me he hoarsely said:
"I was born white. It's her blood that calls me. When I saw her in Salem I
said I would have her for my squaw if I could get her and her fool of a
father into the mountains."
My mental paralysis lifted.
"Is she promised to you?" I asked.
"I am to have any two prisoners to do with as I like," he answered.
"Catahecassa said that when I started to enter the villages beyond the
mountains to get news. There was little chance of bringing any whites
back, but if I did I was to have two of them."
"Then you had better remind your chief of his promise," I warned. "He says
he will torture the girl before her father's eyes if the father does not
help in betraying the settlers."
"Ugh! I have his promise. He dare not break it."
The girl would kill herself before submitting to Ward's savage caresses.
She would go mad if forced to witness the torture of her father. I had
seized upon Ward's passion as a means of gaining a bit more time. If he
could successfully claim the girl then she must be rescued from him. But
viewed from any angle I could find nothing but horrors.
Release by death would be very kind. If any harm were suffered by the girl
I should lose my reason; my life, if God were merciful. No longer did our
time of grace extend to the Scioto villages. At any moment our little
destinies might come to a fearful ending. In my soul I railed at the curse
of it. Such a little way to go, and so much pain and sorrow.
Ward left me and strode up to the chief. They talked rapidly, and I could
read from Ward's mien that he was very angry. When he returned to me he
was in a rare rage.
"Catahecassa dodges by saying you and the trader are the two prisoners I
must take. He says he will burn the girl unless the trader makes the talk
as told. If I can find a way of capturing the settlers the girl will be
given to me in place of either you or her father."
"I don't want to be your prisoner," I said.
"I do not believe you do," he agreed. "But I would take you if I did not
need the trader. If the girl refuses to become my squaw then I will build
a little fire on Dale's back. That will make her accept my belts."
He left me with that thought in my mind. On the one hand the girl was to
be utilized in forcing Dale to betray the settlement. On the other, the
trader was to be used to make the girl submit to the renegade. I could not
imagine a more horrible situation. I was still wallowing deep in my hell
when the camp became very active. Dale was lifted to his feet and his
cords were removed.
The time had come for Black Hoof to try him as a decoy. There remained a
good hour of light. Patricia, not understanding, yet fearing the worst,
hovered about her father, her eyes wildly staring and her whole appearance
denoting a weakening of her reason. As they started to lead her father
into the woods she attempted to follow him, and Black Hoof pushed her
back. Cousin's sister spoke up, saying:
"I will keep her."
The warriors disappeared in the direction of the settlement. The two women
left the camp on the opposite side. Ward went along with the Indians, and
I knew this was my golden opportunity to escape. Before I could make a
beginning at freeing my hands a noose fell over my head and clutched at my
throat. The guards were taking no chances.
Great mental anguish is accompanied by no clarity of thought and graves no
connected memories on the mind. I know I suffered, but there are only
fragments of recollections covering that black period of waiting.
I have a clear picture of the warrior holding the end of the cord calling
for some one to bring a gourd of water. I do not remember drinking, but as
later I found the front of my shirt soaked I assume the water was for me.
Coherent memory resumes with the noise the warriors made in returning to
the camp. I shall never forget their appearance as they emerged from the
undergrowth. Black Hoof walked ahead. Close behind him came two warriors
dragging Dale.
I was amazed to behold Patricia in the procession. She was leaning on Lost
Sister's arm, and there was a lump on her forehead as though she had been
struck most brutally. Then came the warriors and Ward. Dale was roughly
thrown to the ground. Several men began trimming the branches from a stout
sapling. Others became busy searching the fallen timber for dry wood.
Ward walked over to me and kicked me in the side. I must have groaned
aloud, for he commanded:
"Shut up! I'm ripe for a killing."
Matters had gone against his liking. He played with his ax nervously, his
baleful gaze darting about the camp. I waited and at last his race
heritage compelled him to talk, and he commenced:
"The old man was scared into doing what the chief told him to do. He would
not at first, and the men were sent to bring the girl along. When he faced
her he made a noise like a sheep bleating. Then he ran to the clearing and
began his talk. The girl heard his words. She broke away and ran into
sight of the cabins and screamed for them not to listen, that it was a
trap. Black Hoof struck her with the flat of his ax. Now he swears he'll
roast the fool."
"She is your prisoner!" I cried.
"He says she must burn."
"There must be some way, something you can do!" I wildly insisted, my only
thought being to spare her the immediate danger.
"I want her for my squaw bad enough to get her if I can," he growled. "But
if I'm to think of any plan I must be quick. They've got the stake nearly
ready."
He walked to where the warriors were collecting small fuel from between
the fallen trees. One of them hauled a hollow maple log out of the débris
and threw it to one side as being too heavy for a quick fire. Ward halted
and rested a foot on it and bowed his head. Next he began tapping it with
his tomahawk. His actions attracted the attention of the men, and Black
Hoof asked:
"What does Red Arrow think is in the log? A snake?"
Ward startled the savages, and also me, by curtly replying:
"He sees a white man's cannon in the log. The fort holds all the settlers
on the creek. Its walls are stout. If they can be broken down the Shawnees
will take many scalps and prisoners. It will be an easy victory. Black
Hoof's name will be repeated far beyond Kaskaskia and the Great Lakes in
the North. He will be given many new war-names."
Black Hoof's eyes glittered as he pictured the glory and prestige the
hollow log might confer upon him. He examined the log carefully and
perceived only that it was hollow.
"Have you medicine to make it into a cannon?" he asked.
"I have big medicine. Before it will work for me I must be given the white
squaw. There must be no taking back of the gift. If the medicine-cannon
does not give the settlers into our hands still the white squaw must be
mine to do with as I will."
Black Hoof took some minutes to ponder over this proposition. He could
only see a hollow log. Ward's intellect permitted him to see greater
possibilities. While he waited for the chief to make a decision he
examined the maple more thoroughly, and smiled quietly.
Black Hoof at last said:
"Catahecassa gives the white woman to the Red Arrow. Tell your medicine to
make the big gun shoot."
Ward was exultant. To the wondering savages he explained:
"It must be bound tight with much rawhide. Small stones must be packed
tight in the butt-end. I will make a hole for the priming. Then we will
draw it to the clearing and load it with powder and rocks."
This simple expedient, superior to the best plans of the Indians, was
greeted with yells of triumph. The chief said:
"Red Arrow is a medicine-man."
The wooden tube was reinforced under Ward's directions. This done, the
savages danced and whooped about the grotesque cannon for some minutes.
Ward stood with folded arms, his gaze gloating as it rested on the girl,
and haughty with pride as he observed Black Hoof's respectful bearing.
Coming back to me he said:
"You wanted that woman. You will die among the Shawnees. You showed you
wanted her when you followed her into that valley. Her father spoke of you
and by his words I knew you wanted her. Now I have her."
The girl came forward, attracted by Ward's speech to me, although she
could understand none of it. She drew aside in passing the renegade and
dropped on her knees at my side.
"What do they plan? What will they do with me?" her dry lips demanded.
Ward, enraged by her show of aversion, seized her by the shoulder, ripping
the cloth, and dragged her to her feet, and informed her:
"Catahecassa ordered his men to burn you. I made him give you to me. You
are my woman. You are lucky I am not a red man."
"No! No! I'll burn, you monster! I'll burn a hundred times," she panted.
And she struck her hand into his face, whereat the savages shouted in
merriment.
I believed he would kill her then and there, for he groaned aloud from
rage and raised his ax over his head.
"Strike me!" she begged, facing the uplifted ax unflinchingly; and
although not of the border she displayed the fine courage of the Widow
McCabe and other frontier women.
With a whimpering, bestial note Ward managed to say:
"No! You shall live, and many times beg me to kill you. But you shall
still live till I trade you to some red hunter."
"I will kill myself some way before you can harm me!" she defied.
Ward slowly lowered his ax and began chuckling. He told her, pointing to
me:
"This man. He loved you. He was a fool. I say was because his life is
behind him. It is something that is finished, a trace followed to the end.
He is a dead man as he lies there. He loved you. I believe you loved him.
He is my prisoner. Now you can guess why I know you will not harm
yourself."
I knew. She was suffering too much to reason clearly. But he was eager to
help her to understand He amplified by explaining:
"It will be for you to say if he is to be tortured. He is young and
strong. We could keep him alive many days after the fire began to burn
him. It will be a fine game to see whom you love the better, yourself or
him. You will be free to go about the camp. But this man will be watched
all the time. After we take the fort to-night you will come to me and ask
to be my woman.
"I had planned to take your father for my second prisoner. My medicine
tells me to take this man as he will live longer. Remember; you will ask
to be my squaw. That sapling was trimmed for you; it will do for this man.
You will come to me, or he goes to the stake. Now, go!"
And he reached out his hand and sent her spinning and reeling toward her
father.
"You dog! Set me free, empty-handed, and you take a knife and ax, and I
will show the Shawnees what a poor dog you are," I told him in Shawnee.
But he was not to be tempted into any violence just now. He mocked:
"You are something to be watched and guarded. When my new wife is ugly to
me I will order you to the fire. Then she will be kind and you will be
kept alive. Some time you will go to the fire. When I get tired of her and
wish a new wife."
Patricia crawled to her father and laid her head on his breast. No one
gave her any heed except as the Cousin girl walked by her several times,
watching her with inscrutable eyes. The Shawnees were impatient to try
their new cannon.
At Ward's suggestion Black Hoof sent some of his warriors to make a feint
on the east side of the fort, so that the cannon could be hurried forward
and mounted across a log while the garrison's attention was distracted. It
was now dusk in the woods although the birds circling high above the glade
caught the sunlight on their wings. The clearing would now be in the first
twilight shadows, and Black Hoof gave his final orders.
Acting on Ward's command two warriors fell upon me and fastened cords to
my wrists and ankles and staked me out in spread-eagle style, and then sat
beside me, one on each side. Half a dozen of the older men remained in the
camp. Dale was mumbling something to the girl and she rose as if at his
bidding.
The Cousin girl glided forward and in English asked what she wanted. It
was Dale who told her, asking for water in Shawnee. She motioned for
Patricia to remain where she was and in a few minutes brought water in a
gourd, and some venison. Patricia drank but would eat nothing.
The Cousin woman tried to feed Dale, and succeeded but poorly. I asked for
food and water, and one of them brought a gourd and some meat. They lifted
my head so I might drink and fed me strips of smoked meat, but they would
not release my hands.
After a time we heard much shouting and the firing of many guns. This
would be the mock attack, I judged. It increased in volume, this firing,
until I feared that what had been started as a feint was being pushed
forward to a victory.
Suddenly the firing dropped away and only the yelling continued. This
would mean the savages had succeeded in rushing their wooden cannon close
enough to do damage.
Every Indian left in the camp, including my two guards, were now standing
listening eagerly for the voice of the cannon. It came, a loud explosion
that dwarfed all rifle-fire any of us had ever heard. With screams of joy
the guard began dancing about me and the older men danced around the
Dales. They went through all the grotesque attitudes and steps which they
use in their pantomimes of great victories.
This savage play was quickly stilled, however, as groans of pain and
shouts of furious anger came to us. Now the cheering was that of white
voices only. There was the noise of many feet hurrying back to the camp.
Black Hoof came through the bushes first, and only the dusk saved my head
from being split, as with a howl he threw his ax at me. Then came Ward,
staggering like a drunken man and clawing at his left shoulder.
The full force of the catastrophe was revealed when four broken forms of
dead warriors were hurried into the little opening, followed by a dozen
braves bearing wounds, which would appall a town-dweller. Ward's medicine
had lied to them. The cannon had burst and had scattered its charge of
stones among the Shawnees. One of the corpses had been beheaded by a piece
of rock.
Several warriors rushed toward the Dales; others ran to me.
"Stop!" roared Black Hoof. "Do not touch the prisoners!"
Some one lighted a fire. Other fires sprang up until the glade was well
illumined. Black Hoof sent some of the younger men to scout the creek so
the camp might not be surprised by a sally. To the warriors remaining the
chief announced:
"We must march for the Ohio. Bad medicine has dogged us for many sleeps. I
will make a feast to my medicine and will tell you what it says shall be
done with the prisoners."
"That man and that woman are my prisoners!" hoarsely cried Ward.
"They were your prisoners while we believed your medicine was strong. Now
that we know your medicine is weak and foolish they belong to all the
Shawnees. Red Arrow's medicine is bad at heart. It told him to make a big
gun. Four of my warriors are dead. Many are hurt. It will take blood to
cover the bodies of the dead. Red Arrow has no prisoners until he goes and
catches them."
Ward pulled his ax and limped toward me. No warrior made an effort to stop
him. But Black Hoof reminded:
"When the Red Arrow is no longer a Shawnee he will be tied and left at the
edge of the settlement. The prisoners are not to be harmed until my
medicine directs."
Ward halted. He was close enough for me to see that while he had escaped a
wound from the flying stones his shoulder was blown full of powder. The
sweat streamed down his face and intimated something of the agony he was
suffering.
"Black Hoof is a great warrior and a mighty chief!" he said huskily. "But
Red Arrow's medicine is weak because it has not been fed. Only blood will
make it strong. Let this man die before we break our camp." And he stirred
me with his foot.
"The prisoners belong to the Shawnees. My medicine may whisper to kill one
of them, but the warriors in sound of my voice must decide. Those who
would see one of the three die show the ax."
Almost as soon as he had spoken the air was filled with spinning axes,
ascending to the boughs and then falling to be deftly caught, each ax by
its owner.
"It is good," said the chief. "My medicine shall pick the prisoners to
die."
The explosion of the wooden cannon and the chief's ruling that we were no
longer Ward's prisoners appealed to me as a reprieve. At least the girl
was snatched from Ward's clutches. But the unanimous vote that one of us
must die threw me back on the rack.
It was inconceivable that Patricia Dale should thus die. And yet I had had
an earnest of the devil's ferocity. East of the mountains I could not have
imagined a hand ever being raised against her. And I had seen her buffeted
and struck down this day. Therefore, I did comprehend the inconceivable.
I called out to the chief:
"Catahecassa, listen to a white medicine, for the red medicine is far away
or else is asleep. If the white woman is harmed you will shed tears of
blood before you reach your Scioto towns. The settlers are swarming in to
head you off. You have no time to spend in torturing any prisoner.
"But had you many sleeps of time it would be bad for you to harm the white
girl. If you harm her you will have nothing to trade for an open path to
the river. If you are wise in war, as your enemies say you are, you will
guard her carefully at least until you make your villages above the
Ohio."
The chief's eyes shifted uneasily, but his voice was ominous as he tersely
advised:
"The white man had better ask his strong medicine to keep him from the
fire. One of the prisoners shall roast this night. I have said it."
He had not liked my words as they set his superstitions to working, but it
would never do for him to bow before the threats of a white medicine. So
he remained inexorable in his determination to cover his dead with a white
victim.
His raid into Virginia had been disastrous even though he could count the
four Grisdols, the seven men, women and children in Abb's Valley in his
death score. And he had taken three prisoners. Doubtless there were other
victims at the fire I had seen when on the Cheat. But the price he had
paid for these various kills and us three prisoners was too heavy.
Every Indian slain had been a prime fighting man, one it would take years
of training to replace. After counting his losses in the mountains about
the Grisdol clearing, the warriors killed in Abb's Valley, and now his
losses here at Howard's Creek, the score was distinctly against him. No
matter how mighty and famous a chief may be, he will surely and quickly
lose his following if disaster dogs his war-paths.
So I could understand Black Hoof's mental attitude. He attributed his
misfortunes to his weakening medicine. Let the cost be ever so dear he
must strengthen that medicine; and he firmly believed a human sacrifice
would be the most acceptable offering he could make.
"Bring that man over to the fire," he directed, pointing to me.
My wrist-cords were loosed, my ankles were fastened only with a spancel,
and strong hands jerked me to my feet. Taking short steps I advanced to
where the girl lay with her head on her father's breast.
Black Hoof selected a charred stick from the fire and stood staring at us,
his eyes blank as though he did not see us. His warriors watched him with
much awe. His spirit was far away up in the mountains communing with his
medicine. He was asking his manito which of the three victims would be
most acceptable.
Ward stood behind him, his lean face working in helpless rage for fear the
girl would be the choice, thereby costing him a new wife. I felt deathly
sick, physically sick, fearing she was marked for death, fearing she was
reserved for worse than death.
Suddenly Black Hoof began shivering, then threw back his head and for a
moment stared about him as if to collect his scattered senses. Reaching
down he pulled the girl from her father. She had swooned and was at least
spared these few minutes of awful dread. The charred stick hovered over
her white face, then was withdrawn and darted at mine.
Instinctively I closed my eyes, but as the stick failed to leave its mark
I opened them and beheld Dale had been chosen: A black smooch extended
from the tip of his nose to the roots of his hair, and was bisected by
another mark across the bridge of his nose, and extending to his ears.
"Paint that man black," Black Hoof ordered.
Dale was very composed. He knew the worst. Perhaps he believed his death
would save the girl. In a steady voice he said to me:
"Morris, I am sorry for you. Only God knows how I feel about Pat. I've
been worse than a fool. Don't tell her when she wakes up. Get the Cousin
woman to take her out of sight. It will be very hard but I will try to go
through it like a man."
"If there is anything I could do!" I cried.
He shook his head and threw it back and his lips were drawn tight.
"I am to blame. It's best this way. You came after me to help me. That was
good and foolish of you. Pray God she will be spared. Pray God you will be
spared. They'll be satisfied with my death for a while. I think I shall go
through it very well."
They pulled me away and fell to rubbing the unfortunate man's face and
neck with charcoal. Cousin's sister with a magnificent show of strength
gathered the unconscious girl in her arms and walked toward the woods.
Ward would have stopped her, but she hissed like a snake in his face, and
there was a hardness in the blue eyes he could not withstand.
As she disappeared with her burden Black Hoof said something to Lost
Sister's red husband. This warrior, very loath to miss the spectacle of a
burning, sullenly glided after the woman. I feared he was sent to bring
them back, but as they did not return I knew he was ordered to stand guard
over them.
Now the opening was filled with the Shawnees, word having passed that
Black Hoof was about to appease his war-medicine. Only the scouts and Lost
Sister's man remained out. Dale was stood on his feet and his upper
garments were torn off from him. As they offered to lead him to the stake
he struck their hands aside and with firm step walked inside the circle of
brush which had been heaped up some five feet from the stake.
I closed my eyes and endeavored not to witness the scene but was unable to
keep them closed. With a spancel rope fastened to his ankles Dale was
further secured by a long cord tied around one wrist and fastened some
fifteen feet up the trimmed sapling.
When the flames began to bite on one side he could hobble around the post
to the opposite side. As the flames spread he would become very active,
but each revolution around the post would shorten the slack of the
wrist-cord. With the entire circle of fuel ablaze he would slowly roast.
Black Hoof muttered some gibberish and applied the torch.
As the first billow of smoke rose and before the savages could commence
their dancing and preliminary tortures, Ericus Dale threw back his head
and loudly prayed:
"O God, protect my little girl! O God, have mercy upon me!"
Black Hoof jeered him, sardonically crying:
"The white man makes medicine to his white manito. Let Big Turtle[4] try
him with a mouthful of fire. We will see if the white manito is weak or
afraid to help his child."
A burly warrior scooped up coals on a piece of bark and with a fiendish
grin leaped through the smoke. Two rifle shots, so close together as to be
almost one, shattered the tense silence as the savages held their breath
to enjoy every symptom of the excruciating agony. Dale went down on his
knees, a small blue hole showing where the bullet mercifully had struck
his heart. Big Turtle leaped backward and fell into the burning brush. A
warrior, acting mechanically, dragged the Turtle clear of the flames. He
was stone-dead.
For several moments the Indians were incapable of motion, so astounding
was this interference with their sport. It was the scream of a panther
that awoke them to furious activity. Black Hoof shouted for his men to
catch the white scout. Then he turned on me and raised his ax. The act was
involuntary, for at once dropping his arm he ordered his men to extinguish
the fire and to see I did not escape. Then he hurried into the forest.
The fire was stamped out and Dale's body removed to one side. I asked them
to cover the dead man with a blanket, which they readily did. Now Lost
Sister returned, this time leading Patricia. I called to her in Shawnee:
"Bring the white girl here. Does she know her father is dead?"
"I told her. The men said he was killed by a white bullet," was the sullen
reply.
"Leave her with me and wash the black from his face," I said.
She brought her charge to me. Patricia's eyes were hot as if with fever.
She dropped beside me and stared wildly. Then she began to remember and
said:
"My father is dead, they tell me."
"He is dead. He suffered none. It is as he wished. He could not escape. He
is at peace."
"Life is so terrible," she mumbled. "Death is so peaceful. Death is so
beautiful. Then one is so safe."
She gave a little scream and collapsed with her head resting on my bound
hands. But although her slender frame shook convulsively she shed no
tears.
I tried to talk to her as I would to a little child. After a while she
rose and her composure frightened me. She walked to her father. Lost
Sister had removed the tell-tale black. The girl kneeled and kissed him
and patted his hair. Then returning to me, she quietly said:
"He looks very peaceful. Very happy. I am glad he did not have to suffer.
The bullet that took his life was very kind. It must be very beautiful to
be dead."
She ceased speaking and slowly began stretching her arms above her head,
and with a long-drawn scream she fell over backward and I knew she had
lost her reason.
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[4] Also Daniel Boone's Shawnee name in later years.