"SETTIN' TILL BEDTIME"
One night in November the Rogers household had gathered as usual around
the hearth in the spacious living-room. The fire roared and crackled
merrily, dancing on the whitewashed walls, and shining brightly on the
brass andirons and the glass doors of the cupboard.
The candle-stand stood in the center of the room; on one side of it sat
Abner Dudley, reading aloud from the "Kentucky Gazette"; on the other,
Mrs. Rogers, seated in the cushioned rocker, was patching a linsey
jacket for Tommy, who, with his youngest brother, was playing
jackstones on the floor behind the stand. To supplement the light from
candle and fire, a huge hickory knot had been thrust into the
fireplace, against one of the andirons. By its light Henry was weaving
a basket, the floor around him littered with the long, pliable osier
slips which the twins were sorting for his use. In the opposite corner,
on a low stool, the negro girl, Rache, nodded over a piece of knitting.
Mason Rogers, enjoying his after-supper pipe, was engaged in mending a
set of harness. Susan, dreamily staring into the fire, held her sewing
idly in her lap until her mother's voice aroused her.
"Come, Cissy, don't set thah with folded hands, ez though you wuz a
fine lady. Ef you can't see well 'nough to do the overcastin' on thet
jac'net petticoat, git out yer tettin' or them quilt squares. Rache,
you triflin' niggah, wake up. You don't airn yer salt. I declar' I'll
hev you sold down South the nex' time ole Jake Hopkins teks a drove to
Alabam'. I reckon you won't hev much time fur noddin' down in them
cottonfields, with the overseer's lash a-lippin' yer back ever' time he
sees you idlin'. You'd better mek yer needles fly, fur nary a thing
'cept a switch an' some ashes will you git in yer Chris'mas stockin',
ef all them socks fur Rube an' Tom ain't done by then. Lucy, you an'
Lucindy leave 'lone them strips; you're jes' hend'rin' yer brothah. Git
yer nine patch pieces. Gre't, big gals lak you ortn't idle."
"Some one's comin'!" exclaimed Mr. Rogers, the first to notice the
barking of the dogs outside. "See who 'tis, Henry."
"Heah, Lucy, gether up them twigs," bustled Mrs. Rogers, as she swept
the hearth. "Rache, tek thet harnish out. I declar', Mason, I wish
you'd do sich wuck in the kitchen or stable. Folks'll think I ain't no
sort o' housekeepah."
"How's Mrs. Gilcrest?" asked Mrs. Rogers a moment later, as she shook
hands with Major Gilcrest and nodded to his boys, Martin Luther and
Silas. "Wish she'd come with you, but I reckon she's feared to be out
in the night air."
"Why didn't Betsy come?" Susan asked.
"Oh, Abby had company; Drane and Hart rode out from Lexington to spend
the evening. Abby felt that she couldn't entertain two beaux at once,
so Betsy stayed to help her."
"Don't pull the house down, childurn," Mr. Rogers called cheerily, as
his four youngest and the Gilcrest boys were hurrying off to the
kitchen for a game of romps. "Hold out yer apurns, gals, an' tek some
apples 'long," he added to the twins. "You kin roast 'em on the
h'arth."
"I hear, Mr. Dudley," said Gilcrest presently, "that you use the Bible
as a reading-book in your school."
"Only in one instance," replied Dudley. "Eli and Jacob Hinkson use the
Bible as a reader because their father refuses to get them any other."
"Ah!" exclaimed Gilcrest; "I must remonstrate with Hinkson."
"I'll be obliged if you will. I said all I could to him with no avail."
"It's a wrong use of the Word," said Gilcrest.
"Oh, I don't say that," Dudley replied. "If the text were not such hard
reading for the little fellows, I'd be satisfied to have the Bible the
only reader used in school."
"No, no!" Gilcrest objected with an emphatic shake of his head. "Such a
course would tend to lead the young mind into error."
"On the contrary," returned Dudley, thoughtfully, "might not the seed
of the gospel, thus sown, fall unconsciously into the child's heart and
bear fruit for good when he is older?"
"No! It's dangerous to place the Bible in the hands of the unconverted
young."
"Do I understand you to mean that children should not read the Bible at
all?" asked Dudley.
"The mysteries of the Scriptures are not for the child to tamper with.
When I was a schoolboy in Massachusetts, the New England Primer was the
only reading-text, and I wish it were in vogue in our schools now; it
contained the Lord's Prayer and the Shorter Catechism, and that's all a
child should know about the Bible until after he is converted."
"But," asked Dudley, "how can a child learn the way of salvation if not
by Bible reading?"
"By study of the catechism, of course," answered Gilcrest. "Once rooted
and grounded in that, he will not be liable to fall into error later
on, and put wrong interpretations on the Holy Scriptures. I'd rather
have the Bible a sealed book to the unconverted, so that the Spirit may
work untrammeled and sovereignly on his heart."
"Ah! I see now why the priests in olden times chained up the Bible so
that the common people could not have access to it," observed young
Dudley, with a sarcasm which was entirely lost on Gilcrest. "But isn't
it the idea of this age and country that there should be a 'free Bible
for a free people'?"
"Yes, for a 'free' people," retorted Gilcrest, "but not for those who
are still under bondage to sin. Besides, those who have not been well
instructed in the catechism, know nothing about 'rightly dividing the
word.'"
"How about that passage," asked Abner, "'All scripture is given by
inspiration, and is profitable for--for--for----'?"
"Henry kin say it fur you," interrupted Mason Rogers, thinking that the
schoolmaster's Biblical knowledge had failed him; "he's mighty peart on
quotin' Scriptur."
Whereupon Henry, who up to this time had been a silent but interested
listener to the discussion, repeated the passage.
"Precisely!" Gilcrest exclaimed. "All Scripture is profitable--but to
whom? To 'the man of God.' To such--the elect, the called--how are the
Scriptures profitable? Why, as Paul says, to reprove and correct when
he goes off into forbidden paths, and to instruct him further in
righteousness. Only the regenerate, the elect, are referred to; for
they only can do good works. Moreover, the very passages that are 'a
savor of life unto life' to the called, are 'a savor of death unto
death' to those out of Christ."
"Egzactly! I see that p'int, anyway," said Mason Rogers, as he sat with
chair tilted back, meditatively nibbling at the stem of his unlighted
pipe. "Sartain Scriptures air made to suit sartain diseases, lak
doctah's physic; an' ef took when the systum hain't jes' in the right
fix fur it, they might kill, instid o' cure."
Here Mrs. Rogers, who until now had been dutifully silent, intent on
her sewing, remarked, "Well, Hirum, Preacher Stone hain't o' yo' way o'
thinkin'; he's allus urgin' Bible readin'."
"Ah! Sister Rogers, Stone has much to learn and to unlearn. He's too
broad in his views. In fact, I sometimes question whether he believes
in Calvinism at all."
"Well, whut ef he don't, so long ez he lives right an' preaches right?"
asked Mrs. Rogers. "When I heah him preach, I feel lak I want to be
bettah. An' hain't thet whut preachin's fur, to mek folks want to live
bettah lives? Whut diffruns whuthah he b'lieves in Ca'vinism, or not?
It's jes' a big, onmeanin' word, anyway."
"That won't do, Sister Rogers. Calvinism is the stronghold of the
Christian religion. Furthermore, it's a logically constructed system of
belief, and if you are loose on one point, you're loose on all. Every
departure from Calvinism is a step towards atheism. The downward grades
are from Calvinism to Arminianism; from Arminianism to Pelagianism;
from Pelagianism to deism; from deism to atheism."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Mrs. Rogers, undaunted. "It teks a scholard to
undahstand all them jawbreakahs. Common folks lak me nevah'd git the
meanin' intah ther head pieces. An' I say thet the sort o' preachin' to
do good is them plain, simple truths whut Bro. Stone gives us."
"Yes, Hiram, Cynthy Ann's right," said Rogers. "The gospel ez Stone
preaches it seems plain ez the nose on yer face, but when the 'five
p'ints' is discussed, I git all uv a muddle."
"But, Mason," asked Gilcrest, "you surely believe in the Confession of
Faith of your church, do you not?"
"Why, I s'pose I do b'lieve it--leastways, I subscribed to it when I
jined the chu'ch; but I'll be fetched ef I understand it."
"We've hed 'nough talk on religion fer one spaill, I think," now put in
Mrs. Rogers. "Let's hev some apples an' cidah. Susan, see whut them
childurn air about. They're mekin' 'nough fuss to tek the roof off." As
she spoke, there came from the kitchen the sound of loud peals of
laughter, much scampering, and the cry, "Pore Puss wants a corner!"
indicating that the children were having an exciting game.
Presently Gilcrest, as he took another apple, said, glancing at the
"Gazette" on the stand: "So Aaron Burr came within one of the
Presidency! I'm glad the House decided in favor of Jefferson. He is bad
enough, but Burr would have been even worse. Are you a Federalist or a
Democrat, Mr. Dudley?"
"How could a Virginian be anything but a supporter of the great
Jefferson?" replied Abner. "Could I have done so, I should have
remained in Virginia until after the election, so as to cast my vote
for Jefferson; but it was necessary for me to come to this State."
"An' glad we air thet you come," said Rogers, heartily.
"Being a Virginian ought to make you a Federalist, I should say,"
suggested Gilcrest. "You forget that a greater than Jefferson was born
in Virginia."
"Then, as Massachusetts is your native State," said Dudley, "I suppose
your Federalistic convictions are modeled according to the
hard-and-fast principles laid down by Adams, rather than the more
elastic federalism which Washington taught. That is, if place of birth
really has anything to do with shaping one's political views."
"One could not have a better leader than John Adams," Gilcrest stoutly
asserted.
"Whut!" exclaimed Rogers. "Afteh them Alien an' Sedition outrages?"
"Why, man!" Gilcrest retorted, "those very laws were for the saving of
the nation."
"Though a Democrat, I'm inclined to agree with you there, Mr.
Gilcrest," Dudley said.
"Ha, Mr. Dudley," said Gilcrest, pleasantly, "I've hopes of your
conversion into a good Federalist yet. You're young, and your political
prejudices haven't become chronic--as is the case with Mason here."
"My motto," rejoined Rogers, "is, 'Our State fust, then the nation.'
The Federal Government didn't do no gre't shakes towa'ds he'pin'
Kaintucky when redskins an' British skunks wuz 'bout to drive us offen
the face o' the livin' airth."
"But, Mason, remember that at that time our nation was battling for
independence, and could ill spare aid for us in our struggle for
supremacy in this western frontier."
"Jes' so!" retorted Rogers. "An' whar'd you an' me an' the rest uv us
who wuz strugglin' fur footholt heah hev been, ef we'd depended on the
Federal Government to fight Caldwell, McKee, Simon Girty, an' ther red
devils? We had to do our own fightin' then, you'll agree, Hiram."
"Why, Major Gilcrest," Dudley exclaimed, "were you an Indian-fighter? I
thought you were a Revolutionary soldier."
"So I was," Gilcrest answered, "from the battle of Lexington until
badly wounded in Virginia by Arnold's raiders in the spring of '81.
Then, early in the next year I came to Kentucky."
"You surprise me," Abner replied. "I thought you did not settle here
until after Indian depredations had ceased."
"Ha! ha!" laughed Gilcrest. "You thought I came like Abram from Ur of
the Chaldees, bringing family, servants, goods and chattels, did you?
No, I made that sort of migration several years later. I first came
alone, to spy out the land, and to find a suitable location wherein to
plant a home and rear a family. Descriptions of this new country beyond
the mountains had led me to picture it a paradise of peace and plenty
and tranquil beauty; but when I came, I found the picture obscured by
the red billows of savage warfare. Why, the first time I ever saw Mason
here, he was equipped with knife and tomahawk, rifle, pouch and
powder-horn, and just setting forth to the relief of a beleaguered
station."
"No wondeh," exclaimed Rogers, "thet you found me an' ev'ry otheh
able-bodied man uv us should'rin' our guns an' gittin' knives an'
tommyhocks ready! You see, Abner, the Injuns undeh ther white leadahs
wuz thet year mekin' a stubbo'ner an' bettah planned warfare than eveh
befoh. Ruddell's an' Martin's stations hed been demolished, an'
follerin' close hed come, airly in the spring, the defeat at Estell's,
an' a leetle later, Holder's defeat; an' heah in August, on top o' them
troubles, comes accounts uv more massacrein's an' sieges. If eveh the
right man come at the right hour, it wuz you, Hiram," Rogers continued,
"when you rid inteh Fort Houston jest afteh we'd got the news. Ez
soon's I clapped eyes on you I sized you up ez a fellah afteh my own
heart--a man ready to go whar danger wuz thickest, a man whut would
stand by a comrid tell the last drap uv his own blood wuz spilt. Will
you eveh furgit thet seventeenth o' August, Hiram, an' the tur'ble days
whut follehed on its heels?"
"Never, while life lasts," replied Gilcrest. "And, as for a comrade in
time of peril, one could not want a braver or a truer than yourself,
Mason. You see," he continued, turning to Dudley, "it was this way:
Early that morning had come tidings that the Indians, a few days
before, had surprised the scattered families around Hoy's, and had
butchered many ere they could reach the fort. Hardly had this tidings
been related before two more runners, half dead with fatigue,
half-crazed with horror, came panting in from Bryan's to tell how
Caldwell and Girty and their hordes of savages had surprised and
surrounded that garrison. These two runners had managed to steal out
under shelter of the tall corn back of the fort at Bryan's, to bring
messages from Colonel Todd, imploring Fort Houston to come to the
rescue. Other messengers had carried the same appeal to other stations.
Ah!" he continued enthusiastically, "the men of Kentucky were brothers
indeed in those trying times! And the garrisons of Houston, Harrods,
St. Asaph's and all the other forts, responded as one man to that cry
from Bryan's."
"Did you leave the women and children in Fort Houston?" asked Dudley.
"No, indeed," answered Rogers before Gilcrest could speak. "'Twuzn't
safe. Houston's wuz li'ble to be attacked in our absence. Besides, it
wuzn't ez big an' strong ez Bryan's, whar the stockades wuz
bullet-proof, the gates uv solid puncheons, an' the houses within built
afteh the ole block-house pattern. So we tuck our women an' childurn
with us. Cynthy Ann, with our little William in her lap, rid behind me
on the nag, an' I carried befoh me in the saddle a little chap
belonging to one uv our men, who hed a sick wife an' a two-weeks-ole
baby to look afteh. Thet was a sad, sad trip fur me an' Cynthy Ann," he
murmured with a sudden break in his voice and a wistful look at his
wife. "The hurryin' gallop oveh eighteen mile o' rough country with the
br'ilin' sun a-scorchin' down on us all the way, cost us the life uv
our fust-borned, our purty little William. I tell you," he added
excitedly, "ef the men o' thet day showed up brave an' faithful, our
women, God bless 'em, wuz even braver an' more endurin'."
"They were indeed," Gilcrest heartily agreed with an appreciative
glance at Mrs. Rogers, "and it was their heroic self-sacrifice and
noble endurance that made it possible for us to subdue this wilderness.
When I reached here that summer of '82, and saw the terrible life of
the pioneer women, I was thankful I had left my betrothed bride in
Virginia. It took women of stout courage and nerve, such as you, Sister
Rogers, to be really a helpmeet to a man in this wilderness of twenty
years ago. A woman of weak nerve or faint heart would have succumbed
under the hardships and danger."
"Like pore Page's wife," added Rogers.
"Pore Mrs. Page!" exclaimed Mrs. Rogers. "I'll nevah furgit her hard
fate."
"She was the wife of one of the Page brothers who were with us at Blue
Licks, was she not?" asked Gilcrest.
"Yes," Rogers answered. "The two brothers hed come oveh the mountains
the spring befoh, an' hed built a cabin an' made a sort o' cl'arin' out
in the wilderness 'bout two mile frum Houston's, on the road to
Bryan's. One uv the brothahs--I can't re-collect his fust name--wuzn't
married; but the otheh hed a wife an' a four-year-old boy when they
come, an' anotheh child wuz borned to 'em 'bout two weeks befoh thet
last Injun raid. They hed been warned agin an' agin thet it wuzn't safe
outside the fort; but still they lived on out thar till thet tur'ble
August mawnin'--when they runs pantin' inteh Houston's with the tidings
thet the savages hed attacked ther cabin. They'd been roused in the
night by the stompin' an' nickerin uv the hosses. It wuz a starlight
night, an' peepin' out uv a loophole in the front uv ther house, they
seen redskins skulkin' in the shadow o' the trees. They couldn't tell
how many ther wuz, but nigh a dozen they thought, an' they didn't know
how many more might be hidin' in the bushes. So they decided it wuz no
use to try to defend themselves, an' that ther only chance to save ther
scalps wuz to steal out befoh the Injuns got to the door. You see, they
couldn't git to the hosses, fur the red imps wuz between the house an'
whar the hosses wuz in the woods which grew up close to the cabin in
front. But at the back the trees wuz all cl'ared off, an' ther wuz a
gairden patch next to the cabin, an' then a cawnfiel'. The only door
wuz in front, an' thar wuz no windah either in the back--only two
little loopholes. One uv the puncheons in the floor hed been left loose
a purpus, an' they took it up without mekin' any noise. Then, afteh
waitin' tell they saw thet the Injuns hed skulked up nearly to the
door, they crawled through the gap in the floor, an' then frum undeh
the house into the gairden, an' then to the cawnfiel', an' stole
through it to the woods on t'otheh side. Then they run fur ther lives,
expectin' ev'ry minit to be attacked. It wuz a meracle they eveh
reached the fort alive. Pore Mrs. Page wuz 'bout tuckered out. You see,
her baby wuz barely two weeks old; besides, she 'peared to be a pore,
weak-sperrited creeter, anyway; an' the long run an' the skeer hed
well-nigh done fur her. It wuz her little boy, the four-year-old
shaver, whut I toted befoh me as we hurried to Bryan's. On the road, we
hed to pass the Pages' cl'arin', an' thar, still burnin', wuz the
remains o' their cabin which the redskins hed fired. Ther gairden an'
cawnfiel' wuz trompled an' blackened an' ruined; an' jes' on the aidge
uv the woods by the roadside thar lay ther pore cow, still breathin',
but welterin' in her own blood. The red devils hed split her wide open
with a tommyhock. Mrs. Page fainted away when she saw thet, an' wuz
most dead when we got to Bryan's. She got bettah, though, an' the next
day when we sot out in pursuit uv the Injuns, her husband went with us.
But, pore woman, she an' her baby both died thar in the fort befoh we
got back."
Abner Dudley, listening with fascinated attention, was thrilled into
strange excitement by the tantalizing impression of his having once
been, as a little boy, a spectator or a participator in just such an
episode as Mr. Rogers was describing--of the terror-stricken little
family fleeing through the woods at night. He also seemed to recall the
picture of a burning cabin, and of a slaughtered cow lying on the
roadside. Still another picture seemed to flit before him--that of a
group of women and children alone within high log walls, and of a
bewildered, heart-broken little boy being lifted by one of these women
from a rude pallet where lay a dying mother and a still-faced, tiny
babe.
Often before to-night Dudley had had dim, fleeting fancies or
imaginings of such a scene which always, when he would have recalled
more clearly, would vanish entirely. Realizing how impossible it was
that he, born and reared in a quiet Virginia village, could ever have
lived such a scene, he had always, when tormented by the fancy,
concluded that the impression was evoked by the memory of some tale
heard in early childhood of the horrors of pioneer life. So now,
instead of trying to follow up these tantalizing fancies, he dismissed
them again from his mind.
"When we got to Bryan's," Rogers was saying when Abner again began to
listen, "Girty an' Caldwell an' ther Wyandottes hed fled. The stockade
hed held out agin 'em, an' all inside wuz safe. But, land o' liberty!
whut a ruination all about the outside o' them walls! Oveh three
hundurd dead cattle an' hogs an' sheep lay strowed 'round through the
woods; the big cawnfiel's wuz cut down an' tromped an' ruined; so wuz
the flax an' hempfiel's; an' the tater craps an' the other gairden
stuff wuz pulled up. No wondeh we thusted fur vengeance. So us rescuin'
parties an' the Bryan Station fo'ces, afteh a night consultation, set
out et daybreak nex' mawnin' to folleh up an' punish. We thought ef we
hurried we could soon ketch up with the enemy; so we didn't wait, as
some o' the oldeh men advised, fur the reinfo'cements whut Gen'ral
Logan hed already started."
"Had we waited," interrupted Gilcrest sadly, "no doubt the story of
savage butchery enacted at Blue Licks two days later, might have had a
different ending."
"Maybe so," assented Rogers, "or ef, when we did git to the springs
thar on the banks uv the Lickin', we'd heeded the counsels uv Boone an'
Todd an' Trigg, instid o' the lead o' thet red-headed, hot-blood
Irishman, Hugh McGary, when he plunged his hoss inteh the river, an'
wavin' his knife oveh his haid, challenged all whut wuzn't cowa'ds to
folleh him. My soul! my hair rises yit when I think uv whut come next.
On we all reshed afteh McGary inteh the river, an' up the redge on
t'otheh side; fur, of course, Todd an' Boone an' our otheh rightful
leadehs, whose advice we'd disregawded, wouldn't fursake us when they
seed we wuz detarmined to rush it. Et fust, without ordeh or caution,
we hustled forwa'd--until the foes sprung out uv ambush. Good Lawd!
Ev'ry cliff, ev'ry bush an' cedah-tree wuz alive with them red devils;
an' it seemed lak all hell hed bust loose on us. Still, Boone an' the
otheh commandahs, afteh the fust minit's surprise, managed to rally us
in spite o' the hell fire whut rained on us frum behind ev'ry tree an'
rock. So when we'd reached the backbone uv the redge, we formed in some
sort uv ordeh. Boone, fust in command, took the left wing; Todd, the
centah; Trigg, the right; an' the Lincoln County men undeh Harlan,
McBride an' McGary a sort o' advance guard. But 'twuz no use then. We
only fired one round. Befoh we could reload, them devils wuz on us with
tommyhocks an' scalpin'-knives. Then, a hand-to-hand fight fur a minit.
Afteh thet, our men--all whut wuz left uv us--wuz mekin' back towa'ds
the river, with the yellin', whoopin' swarm o' hell's imps at our
heels."
"Who can depict the horrors of that day!" Gilcrest ejaculated. "It has
been estimated that at least one-tenth of all the able-bodied men in
Kentucky either fell on that battlefield, or were carried captive to
meet lingering death by torture. You see," he continued, "we had
thought we could have a better chance at the enemy on foot than on
horseback, so we had dismounted before forming into line; and then we
were so closely pursued that few had time to reach the horses."
"An' thet," said Rogers, taking up the narrative, "give the savages
anotheh big edvantidge; fur they jumped on our hosses an' galloped
afteh us, while we had to mek to the river on foot."
"Yes," said Gilcrest, "and if it hadn't been for you, Mason, I'd never
have reached the river. A fierce Wyandotte brave mounted on one of our
horses had picked me out as his special prey, and I, exhausted by my
long, hot run, and already slightly wounded, could never have reached
the ford but for your timely aid."
"Fo'tunately," Rogers put in, "I, who hadn't been so close pressed, hed
hed time to reload my rifle. So we left thet Injun varmint rollin' in
the dust with a bullet in his back, an' you an' me jumped on thet hoss
an' swum the river. But, pshaw, Hiram! talk 'bout my savin' yer life!
Thet wuz nothin' to some o' the brave things you an' others done thet
day. Do you re-collect how two uv our men afteh they'd got safe oveh
the river, instid o' mekin' fur the bresh, stopped thar on the bank in
full range o' the Injuns on t'otheh side, an' rallied the men an' made
'em halt an' fire back at the whoopin' red demons, so's we pore
wretches whut wuz still swimmin' fur life could hev some chance to
escape? It wuz Ben Netherlands an' one uv the Page brothehs--Marshall
Page, I believe 'twuz--who did thet."
"Marshall Page!" ejaculated Abner Dudley.
"Yes, it was Marshall Page, I think," answered Major Gilcrest; "but why
your exclamation, Mr. Dudley? Do you know any one of that name?"
"I can't recall that I do," answered young Dudley; "but the name seems
familiar, and, in fact, I have a dim impression, absurd though it may
seem to you, of having heard or experienced many incidents such as you
and Mr. Rogers have been describing. But my impressions may be
baseless."
"Your impressions," said Gilcrest, "are doubtless only the faint memory
of some tale heard in your early childhood. Such harrowing incidents as
Mason and I were recalling were common enough in the pioneer days, and
have furnished the theme of many a fireside recital. As for Marshall
Page, you very likely have known some one of the name; for I believe
there are still many Pages living in Virginia and Maryland; but you can
not have known the man I mean--either Marshall Page or his brother,
whose Christian name I can not recall just now--for he was killed there
on the banks of the Licking while bravely helping his comrades to
escape. Which brother was it, Mason?"
"Blest ef I know," Rogers replied; "but one, whicheveh it wuz, wuz
killed at the Licking, an' the otheh wuz captured by the savages. Seems
to me, though, I heard aftehwa'ds thet he escaped befoh they got to the
Injun town way back in Ohio, an' thet he turned up agin at Bryan's thet
fall, an' took the little Page boy back across the mountains to his own
people. Wuzn't thet the way uv it, Cynthy Ann?"
"Yes," Mrs. Rogers answered, "Mary Jane Hart, who kept the little boy
with her at the station afteh his motheh died, tole me about it the
nex' summeh when she come oveh to Houston's one day, an' uv how she
hated to part with him; fur she hed no childurn uv her own then, an'
hed took a mighty fancy to the pore little fellah."
"Speaking of Netherland's and Page's brave deed," here spoke Major
Gilcrest, "Mason, do you remember Aaron Reynolds' equally brave and
self-sacrificing rescue of young Patterson that day?"
And the two veterans, spurred by each other's promptings into livelier
recollection, painted in vivid colors many more of the stirring
incidents of that most tragic event in the annals of pioneer Kentucky,
the battle of Blue Lick Springs.
Young Dudley and Henry Rogers, their fighting blood aroused by the
realistic portrayal, sat by with kindling eyes and quickened pulses,
while each in his heart pictured some deed of daring heroism which
himself might have achieved had he been in that memorable battle.
Mrs. Rogers' sewing lay unheeded in her lap as she rocked slowly to and
fro, her gaze fixed upon the fire. She, too, was painting pictures and
seeing visions of the long ago--pictures which included not only the
heroic band of Kentucky's defenders in the midst of the bloody horrors
of that battlefield, but also that band of devoted women shut up alone
with their helpless little ones in that lonely station, not knowing
what terrible fate was befalling husbands, brothers, kinsmen out in the
wilderness, nor what even greater evils from lurking foes might at any
moment beset themselves within their stockade fortress; and her brave
lip trembled and the visions in the fire became dimmed and blurred as
she thought of that terrible ride under the scorching rays of the
August sun, and of the eighteen-months-old babe, her little William,
who, already ailing before the departure from Houston's, and unable to
bear the merciless heat of the long journey, had died in her arms at
Bryan's two days later--hours before her husband returned from that
ill-fated march to the Licking.
"No," she thought, as she wiped the tears from her eyes, and resumed
her sewing, "our men didn't hev all the strugglin's an' the trials; we
women fought our battles, too; an' ours, afteh all, wuz the hardest
parts."