John, after eight months' absence, was home again. The quiet of the
valley was profound and satisfying. Though he brought back in money less
than he had taken away, he had stored up much worldly wisdom and
experience; and like all men had paid the price.
His guilelessness was gone; the old faith that he could love all men as
he loved everything of the valley was no more. Before, he had looked out
and seen that everything was good; now he knew that all were not good
and that not every spoken word was true; and without ever having wronged
any one, he had been forced to flee as a criminal. It made him morbid.
His heart overflowed with love for his mountains; for the deep silent
forest and for the Pinnacle--from it he might look forth and see so much
of nature's pleasant face and feel the peace that reigned. How he loved
the smell of the growing corn, the clover fragrance of the meadow and
nature's minor voices; of rippling waters, of summer breezes, of singing
birds, of chirping crickets by night, of harvest flies and katydids by
day, of summer daylight showers and on sultry nights the low distant
thunder rumbling in the mountains.
How much purer life seemed, how much simpler than in the Settlements.
Here, God in nature reigned; there, where man seemed master, the face of
nature was defaced. It was a confusion of ugliness, of new cabins, brush
heaps, stumps, the decaying skeletons of dead and belted trees; and the
earth was barren and torn.
He would spend his whole life in the valley--if only Dorothy were here;
* * * man must not live alone; * * * she alone were needed to make this
as paradise, before the fall of man.
* * * What have you to do with fallen men? "Thou shalt love thy neighbor
as thyself." * * * Not as you love the stars. Are you to remain here
cradled in the lap of nature? A wood nymph of six feet two? Why your
great strength?--your broad shoulders? Why a man that can discern? Why a
voice? Why a soul?--and one that has visions of the glory of God. What
use for a teacher in this solitude? What use for broad shoulders where
burdens are light? What use for vision if you are not a prophet? Visions
but beget broader vision. Are you not of those whose honors come after
death? Since you first began to think and speak have you not thought and
said: I will go forth to service, in order that the grain ripe for
harvest may not perish from my neglect? Wouldst be questioned and
commanded: Wist you not that you must be about the Master's business?
Go!
Through the last days of June and into July, John hoed and sweated in
the corn; the weeds came thicker than the year before; the tares grew
denser and closer--and whence the tares? And his mind was on the call to
go to the Settlements to serve men--where Dorothy * * *
The corn was laid by, the days grew sultry and hot, it was early August.
Then he went into the meadow; with each swing of the blade and each rasp
of the whetstone he heard the call to service--or to Dorothy.
Each Sunday afternoon and when unfit weather made a holiday, he climbed
to the Gap and the Pinnacle; and always his eyes were turned northward
towards the Settlements; where the harvest was ripe and needed reapers
and where Dorothy, if she were home again, * * * but why always was his
call to service coupled with thoughts of Dorothy? Was it in truth a
call--or did he merely wish to leave the valley to be with Dorothy?
This Sunday afternoon on the Pinnacle resolutely he turned his back to
the Settlements, facing the unbroken forest of Powell's Valley, saying:
"I fought this out a year ago; my call comes first."
His vision became fixed upon a fleecy cloud way to the southward or was
it the smoke from a burning forest? Did he sleep; or did he see the
misty filmy substance take shape? He never knew with certainty. In any
event he saw a great river and floating upon it a large flat boat, such
as river emigrants used. As he looked the boat rounded a great bend and
approached the mouth of a smaller river emptying into it from the
northward. Hid in the willows at the mouth of the smaller river, he
counted, one by one, ten large war canoes filled with Indians waiting.
He recognized the location. It was the mouth of the Big Miami; where
John Filson and Colonel Patterson, with their men, had held the pow-wow
with the Indians, on their way up river to lay off Losanteville.
Two white men running along the bank of the Ohio, some distance above
the willows, were calling to the boat: "Come ashore and take us aboard.
We escaped from the Indians last night and shall be found and murdered."
They were the decoys of the war party.
The boat had heavy bulwarks and was heavily loaded; aboard were more
than a dozen men and several women and children. On the deck fastened to
a chain running between two heavy supports were eight horses and several
cows.
The crew, confident of their strength, approached the shore though
warned not to do so by Captain Fairfax, who with his daughter were
passengers. The captain of the boat said: "They may be decoys as you
say, but we will not land; merely go in close enough to ascertain who
the men are and if they are in distress throw out a line, if they cannot
swim to us. It seems hard to believe that white men could be found to
decoy us; and if they are closely pursued and murdered in our sight or
recaptured we would never forgive ourselves for not helping them.
Several of you men have your rifles ready in case of attack. The beach
is clear of undergrowth until we reach the willows and we will shove out
again before we get that far."
They came within a short distance of the shore, calling to the men to
swim to them. One answered he could not swim and they ran along the
shore abreast of the boat, all the while drawing near the willows. When
the men reached a wash-out they dropped into it out of sight. At the
same time the Indians dashed out in their canoes and the battle began.
The men at the sweeps were killed at the first volley; the boat drifted
yet nearer the shore and the canoes were almost upon it.
The horses and cattle frightened by the firing and by the noise began to
struggle and plunge and to crowd and push towards the off-shore or port
side of the boat; which was tilted until the water flowed in and the
overloaded boat sank in seven feet of water.
Some of the crew and passengers struggled in the water, the children
were drowned in the cabin. Those yet on deck stood shoulder deep in the
water but their rifles were useless; and the Indians coming very close,
tomahawked and scalped the survivors.
John saw Captain Fairfax strike with his rifle barrel an Indian sitting
in the bow of a canoe. Several Indians with the muzzles of their rifles
within a foot of his face fired; he sank into the water, but reaching
down they recovered his body and scalped him. Then he saw a young woman
swimming from the sunken boat out into the river towards the swift
running current, hoping thus to escape. She swam well, and for a while
he thought she would escape; but one of the Indians pointed her out to
those in his canoe and they gave chase. When almost near enough to
strike, she dived and rose again twenty feet down the stream; but the
canoe was also riding with the current and each time she rose it was
near. She dived again and when she came up the Indian in the bow who had
first seen her, caught her by the hair and hauled her into the canoe.
John saw her face. He had felt all the while it was Dorothy. The Indians
were strangers to him and he grew sick with fear for her. They were from
the headwaters of the Big Miami. For the first time in his life he was
possessed with an overwhelming desire to kill.
The Indians again landed at the willows; removed from their canoes
several of their dead and wounded and four captives, two men and two
women. The men were bleeding from wounds and nearly drowned. A little
later two canoes came ashore, leading by their halters three horses and
two cows.
They bound the two half drowned men to stakes and built great fires
about them. They killed the two cows and roasted the men and their meat
in the same fires.
A few small pieces of drift and an upturned canoe marked the site of the
battle; otherwise the bosom of the river was as placid as before. * * *
And the vision faded.
John, as deeply moved as if he had been tied to a stake and helplessly
witnessed it all, knew that the vision he had seen had just occurred as
pictured, though he was more than two hundred miles from the mouth of
the Big Miami.
He went home in a very frenzy of passion; ate his supper in silence and
as his parents noticed in a sort of semi-consciousness; eating more than
he habitually did.
After supper he told them of his dream, as he chose to call it, saying:
"After I have rescued Dorothy I will take her to her mother; then I will
attend a theological school for some months. After I have finished, I
will come back here and help during the summer; then I shall give my
whole time to preaching."
He made hasty preparation to leave for the Miami country; knowing in an
unaccountable way that Dorothy was yet alive. He went to bed and slept
until the moon rose over the mountains, which gave sufficient light to
travel, then set forth afoot, carrying only his girdle, a hunting knife,
hatchet, blanket and several days' rations of parched corn and jerked
meat.
He took the Warrior's Trail northward, traveling the first sixty miles
in twenty hours, stopping only for a drink of water now and then,
munching an occasional mouthful of parched corn or dried meat as he
walked. Darkness having come again and, needing rest, he bathed in a
small stream, and in a dry, sheltered spot under an overhanging cliff
slept until the gray of morning; then he hurried on, breakfasting upon
the corn and meat as he walked.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, he reached the south bank of the
Ohio, opposite the mouth of the Miami, and could see the willows where
the Indians had waited in their canoes. Walking up the stream to offset
the distance the current would wash him down while swimming across, he
selected from a pile of drift two small, dry cottonwood logs and lashed
and launched them into the river; having tied his clothing on one end
and holding to the other, he swam across, landing on the opposite shore
at the mouth of the draw a few yards above the willows.
Having dressed again, he ate the last of his ration of corn and meat,
which was supplemented by a few late dewberries which he found growing
on the bluff. Then hiding in the willows at the mouth of the river, he
spread his blanket on the soft white sand and almost immediately went to
sleep.
Some hours later he was aroused by the grating of the prow of a canoe
upon the sandy beach a few yards above him; then another landed. Though
the sound may have been made by hostile Indians, it was a break in his
loneliness; as since leaving home, he had not seen or heard a human
being. It was too dark to see, but listening intently he was convinced
his neighbors were Indians because they were stealthy of movement and
talked in brief and subdued monotone.
He finally made out they were Mingoes; and thought he recognized one by
his voice as Deer Runner; one of the Indians who had been with him at
Jenkins' Station the year before.
Greeting them as friends, he called the name of this Indian and
announced his own. There was a moment of absolute silence; then he asked
about the Prophet and several others of his friends. Then he heard one
say to his companions: "It is Chief Cross-Bearer, the strong armed. Let
us light a fire so we can see his face and cook something. I am hungry."
Then he came over to where John sat, and for an Indian, greeted him
cordially; the others followed.
He told them the cause of his journey; and in turn was informed that two
white women who had been taken from a boat on the Ohio, were held
prisoners at an Indian town about fifty miles up the Miami.
Convinced that Dorothy was one of them he asked Deer Runner to take him
in the small canoe to the village and ordered the other four Indians to
hasten to Shauane-Town, and tell the Prophet of Dorothy's capture and
ask his assistance.
At daylight he and Deer Runner left for the village in the small canoe,
while the others were yet making preparations to continue up the Ohio to
the mouth of the Scioto, the Mingo country.
Just before sundown, John and Deer Runner beached their canoe at the
Indian village; while the Indians in sullen, almost hostile, silence
watched them. The tribe at the time was at war with the whites and they
resented and were curious to know the purpose of this unarmed white man
who dared to come among them.
John would have been made prisoner and tortured except for his adoption
and rank as a Mingo chieftain; which was satisfactorily established by
the girdle and the tattoo marks on his chest, both of which he was
forced to exhibit. When it was understood that by adoption he was a
brother of Tecumseh and the Prophet, he was assigned a lodge and given
food.
When he asked to talk with the white prisoners the request was denied;
though the chief took him so near that he and Dorothy recognized and
waved a greeting to each other. He was told that the following morning a
council would be called and he would be given an opportunity to explain
why he had visited their village, after which he might be permitted to
confer with the prisoners.
He lay down on the deer skins over which he had spread his blanket and
slept through the night. Dorothy was alive and well; and he was near to
protect her; and friends would soon arrive to help in her rescue.
When he awoke the sun was filling the valley with its first light; the
dew sparkled on the leaves and grass; his morning prayer was a song of
praise; his heart was so full of the love of life that he felt attuned
with and understood as his own tongue the songs of the birds that
warbled so sweetly in the tree tops along the river.
Walking up the river beyond sight of the village, he undressed on a bar
of white sand and swam across and back again; then returned to the
village, where he found Deer Runner waiting to begin their breakfast of
meat, green corn and potatoes, all of which had been cooked together
with some seasoning herbs by an old woman, who had been assigned as
their servant.
On the way to the council hall he passed near Dorothy, who waved a good
morning; and entered, feeling fit to plead with confidence even so
momentous a cause as involved her freedom--and his happiness.
The chief asked that he explain in the Mingo dialect, which all
understood, being members of the Confederacy, the purpose of his visit
to their village.
"As you saw, I came among you unarmed, showing that my mission was one
of peace. I am a man of peace and have never yet shed blood of or
wronged either Indian or Long Knife. Before coming to Kentucke I lived
in the Jackson River Country and my father's lodge was the stopping
place of all Indians. They were not only entertained as guests but
treated as friends.
"When a little boy I was taken prisoner by Logan, who driven to violence
by the murder of all his kindred, thought for a while to even scores;
but he learned before his death that an act of violence following
another in retaliation, neither righted wrong nor salved injury.
"He brought me to Shauane-Town on the Scioto. I was adopted into the
family of Tecumseh and the Prophet, in place of Tecumseh's twin brother
who had died. While they are warriors, I belong to the priesthood; and
my body, which no Indian at peace with the Mingoes dare mutilate, bears
the marks of dedication to the Great Spirit.
"When I was taken prisoner, a little girl, now a grown woman and your
prisoner, was carried off and she by adoption is a Mingo; the daughter
of Logan, himself an adopted chief of the Sciotha tribe. He was murdered
at Detroit as you have heard.
"Are you at peace with the Mingoes? If so, what right have you to hold
the daughter of Logan a prisoner? Does she not speak the Mingo tongue?
Is that acquired in a day? Has she not told you she is the daughter of
Logan? As I now say and as Deer Runner will tell you.
"Her white father was aboard the boat and was shot and scalped by you;
but his daughter did not fight, she killed no one; her hands are not
stained by blood. She merely sought to escape as the wild duck flees
from the eagle; swimming way out into the river, she was pursued by Gray
Wolf and his men in a canoe and taken prisoner. By the law between
allies, and you are allies of the Mingoes, you cannot hold her prisoner
unless she has killed one of your people and then her fate is fixed by
the family of whom the one killed was a member. Only three of your
warriors were killed in the battle, a fourth has since died. None of
these were kindred of Gray Wolf, nor was he even wounded. What right has
he to hold this woman prisoner?"
(The Chief) "How do you know all this?"
"I saw the battle from the Pinnacle at Cumberland Gap, more than two
hundred miles away. If any doubt, let him ask what occurred and I will
tell him."
(Gray Wolf) "How many braves were in the canoe when we took the woman?
And if any here were present point them out."
"Five, you sat in the bow, and after the woman had dived three times,
she came up within reach, when you caught her by the hair and pulled her
aboard. You and the brave on your left held her until you came ashore.
The fourth one from you on the right was with you and the seventh. The
fifth man is not here; he has gone up the river."
(The Chief) "Who has told Cross-Bearer these things? Have any of you
gossipped like old women, either with him or with Deer Runner?"
"No one has spoken. I saw it as it has been told. If Gray Wolf refuses
to release the prisoner, he will die tonight by his own hand; it is the
will of the Great Spirit. My brother, the Prophet, comes tomorrow. He
loves you people, but he loves his brother more; nor will he permit a
woman of his tribe to be held a prisoner without cause. Let there be
peace. Let the prisoner go. I have no right to demand the release of the
other prisoner. You are at war with the whites. She was taken in battle;
she is an enemy, not an ally; but as your friend I would advise you not
to war upon women and children."
(The Chief) "Chief Cross-Bearer is right; the woman who is the daughter
of Logan must be released. It is the law of the Confederacy."
(Gray Wolf) "I will not be frightened into releasing the woman. Chief
Cross-Bearer has spoken. He has told of strange things; but he may have
learned them from the prisoner. I have heard of but never seen a person
who could see where others were blind and who could foretell what was to
happen on the morrow. He claims to know too much when he says I shall
die tonight unless the prisoner is released. What is to be will happen.
It is not in his power to know the time of my death. Gray Wolf, though
he has no cause to kill himself, is not afraid to die. The woman shall
go free at the rising of the sun but not before. Gray Wolf will not then
release her because of threats but because she is the daughter of Logan.
I have spoken."
He was next in authority to the chief; and as all thought no harm could
come of the woman remaining a prisoner over night the council adjourned
without further comment.
Gray Wolf, about four months before, leading a war party had attacked a
flat boat floating down the Ohio. After killing all the crew he had
boarded it and found a small shepherd puppy aboard which he had brought
back with him. The now half grown dog was his constant companion and his
most prized possession.
In the afternoon, while John, the chief and several of the braves, were
seated under a great elm near the river, the dog came near them and
before lying down on an absolutely bare spot, turned about many times
tramping with his feet as though to crush down a heavy growth of grass.
This started a discussion of the hereditary or birthmark traits of
birds, animals and men, which lasted some time. The dog, his nap over,
left them and began playing in the open some distance from Gray Wolf's
lodge. He gave a yelp of terror, just as a great bald eagle, dropping as
it seemed from the sky, caught him in her talons and flew away. The
weight and struggles of the dog caused the bird to light after a flight
of a hundred yards; and Gray Wolf, snatching up his rifle, started
running for the spot. Intent to reach the eagle which was tearing the
life out of his dog, he carelessly stumbled over a bramble. His rifle
was thrown from his hand and, striking a stone, was discharged, the
bullet passing through his chest. They carried him into his lodge and
laid him upon a pallet of skins. Two hours after sunset he choked to
death, from the accumulation of blood in his lungs.
A few minutes before his death he asked for Chief Cross-Bearer and when
he came near, in a choking voice said: "You are a true prophet--the
prisoner is yours. Take her and go. You will have peace and she will be
your wife."
When he came out the chief met him and calling two of his braves
directed them to place food and some deer skins in the Mingo canoe, then
turning to John said: "We wish you to leave at once. Take both women.
The Great Spirit is offended and may punish others than Gray Wolf."
John, the two women and Deer Runner departed within the hour.
Near daylight, they came within sight of the willows. On the beach a
camp fire blazed and beside it by its light they recognized the Prophet
and some thirty of his warriors, who were just breaking camp, on their
way to demand the release of Dorothy.
They paddled to the shore and after greetings were asked to land and
rest; but Dorothy said no. She wished to leave the place at the earliest
moment.
Their belongings were transferred to a large canoe, then they climbed in
followed by four Indians, who paddled lustily and silently down stream,
while their passengers slept; Dorothy beside John with her head pillowed
on his arm.