PICKING UP THE STRANDS
Henry sat down in the underbrush, and Shif'less Sol sat down close to
him. Their figures were hidden by the darkness and the bushes.
"Do your best, Henry," said the shiftless one.
Henry opened his mouth and emitted a long, mournful cry, so like that of
the owl that Shif'less Sol, at a little distance, could not have told
the difference. After a silence of a few seconds he repeated the cry, to
show that they were two.
"Don't see why you can't let a tired and sick man sleep, 'specially when
he needs it so bad," said a voice so near them that both started up in
astonishment.
It was the voice of Tom Ross, as they knew when the very first words
were uttered, and they saw him standing erect in a little clump of trees
and looking reproachfully at them. It was night, and Tom was fifty yards
away, but they would have known his figure and attitude anywhere. They
rushed to him, each seized a hand and shook it.
"Don't shake too hard," said Tom. "Jest gittin' well uv a pow'ful bad
headache."
They saw that a rude bandage encircled his head, and was tied tightly.
"Injun bullet hit my skull," said Tom briefly. "Couldn't git in, so it
went 'round an' come out on the other side. Made my head ache most a
week. Been campin' here till you'd come."
"Where have you been camping?" asked Henry.
"Over thar in the bushes," replied Tom, and he led the way to a very
thick clump at the side of a huge, up-thrust root of an oak. Sheltered
partly by the bushes and partly by the big root had been the lair of
some wild animal that Tom had dispossessed. But he had relined it first
with dry leaves and little boughs, turning it into a man's nest.
"Found it the night I dropped out," said Tom. "Couldn't be partickler
then. Had to lay down somewhar. Remember, after I'd been here an hour or
two, some big yeller animal with yellerish-green eyes come starin' in at
me through the bushes, angry and reproachful-like. Said to me plain as
day: 'You've took my house. Git out.' Felt like a robber, I did,
slippin' into another man's bed while he wuz away, an' takin' up all the
room. But I jest had to hold on, me feelin' pow'ful bad. I p'inted my
rifle at him, looked down the sights and said: 'Git.' He must have
knowed what a rifle meant, 'cause git he did, an' he ain't ever come
back to claim his mansion. Then, jest havin' strength enough left to
bind up my head, I fell over into a sleep, an' I reckon I slep' 'bout
three days an' three nights, 'cause I ain't got any idea how much time
hez passed sence I left you that night, Henry.
"But I felt better after my long sleep, though still weak an' wobbly.
I'd hev made myself some herb tea, but I wuz beginnin' to git
tre-men-jeous-ly hungry. Managed to watch at a spring not far from here
until a deer came down to drink one night, an' I shot him. Been livin'
on deer meat since then, an' waitin' fur my headache to go away.
Expected you an' Sol or one uv you would come fur me."
Tom stopped abruptly and took a mighty breath. He did not make so long a
speech more than once a year, and he felt mentally exhausted.
"Well, we've found you, Tom," said Henry joyfully.
"Ef you hadn't come, I'd have started myself in a day or two to find
_you_," said Ross.
"I don't wonder that Injun bullet turned aside, when it run ag'in Tom
Ross' skull," said the shiftless one. "That shorely wuz a smart bullet.
It knowed it wuzn't worth while to beat its head ag'in a rock."
"Don't be impydent, Sol," said Tom with a quiet chuckle. "Now that we
three are together ag'in, I s'pose the next thing fur us to do is to
track Jim Hart to his hidin' place."
"That comes next," said Henry.
It did not occur to any of the three that Long Jim might have been
slain. Their belief in their own skill, endurance, and good fortune, was
so great that they did not reckon on anything more than a wound, fever,
and exhaustion.
"I believe we'd better stop here to-night," said Shif'less Sol. "Tom can
widen his den, and all three of us kin sleep in it."
Henry and Tom agreed. Silent Tom, although he said little, was greatly
rejoiced over the coming of his comrades, and he brought from the fork
of a tree his store of deer meat, of which they ate. Then, in accord
with the shiftless one's suggestion, they widened the den, and the three
slept there, turns being taken at the watch.
Henry had the last turn, and it was about two o'clock in the morning
when he was awakened for it. Shif'less Sol, who had awakened him,
instantly fell asleep, and Henry sat at the edge of the lair, his rifle
across his knees, and his eyes turned up to the great stars, which were
twinkling in a magnificent blue sky.
Henry had imbibed much of the Indian lore and belief. It was inevitable
where human beings were so few, and the skies and the forest were so
immense, that he should feel the greatness of nature and draw his
symbols from it. He wondered in a vague sort of way on which of the
bright stars Manitou dwelt, and if on all of them there were hunting
grounds like those in which he and his comrades roved.
He watched with his ears, that is, he listened for the sound of anything
that might be moving in the forest, but he kept his eyes on the high
heavens. His thoughts were solemn, but not at all sad. He could see much
in the Indian belief of the happy hunting grounds in which strong, brave
warriors would roam forever. It appealed to him as a very wise and
wholesome belief, and he asked no better hereafter than to roam such
forests himself through eternity with those who were dear to him.
Some clouds gathered in the southwest, and a faint, far rumble came to
his ears. "Baimwana (thunder)," he murmured, speaking almost
unconsciously in Iroquois, a little of which he had learned long ago. He
was sorry. Rain would not be pleasant, particularly for the two who were
not yet fully recovered from their wounds. But the thunder did not come
again, the clouds passed, and he knew there would be no rain.
A wind, gentle and musical, began to blow. "Wabun (the East Wind)," he
murmured. He personified the winds, because it was in his nature to do
so, and because the Indians with whom he had dwelt did it. It was this
gift of his, based on a powerful imagination, that now made him hear the
human voice once more in the wind. It was a low voice, but penetrating,
thrilling him in every nerve, and its note was hope. He had heard it
before at crises of his life, and its prophecy had not failed to come
true. Nor did he believe that it would do so now.
The wind shifted. "Kabibanokka (the North Wind)," he murmured. But the
note was unchanged. It was still a voice that brought courage. They
would find Jim and Paul, and the fleet and the fort alike would triumph.
He heard, soon, light sounds in the bush, but they were not the
footsteps of enemies. He knew it because he had heard them all before. A
tawny beast came down through the grass, but halted at a respectful
distance. Henry caught a glimpse of one yellow eye, and he felt a sort
of amused sorrow for the panther. The rightful owner of this house had
been driven out, as Tom Ross confessed, and he was there not far away
looking reproachfully at the robbers. Well, he should have his house
back on the next night, and perhaps he could then keep it all the rest
of his life.
The yellow eye disappeared. The sorrowful and reproachful panther had
gone away. The wind shifted, and its odor was fresh with the dawn, which
would soon be whitening the east. A troop of deer, led by a splendid
stag, passed so close that Henry could see their forms in the dusk. The
wind was taking the odor of himself and his comrades away from them, and
he watched the dusky file as it passed. Even had the country been clear
of Indians, he would not have taken a shot at them, because he had no
desire to slay merely for the sake of slaying.
The deer passed. Light sprang up in the east. The white turned to red,
the red to gold, and the gold at last became blue. An eagle, in an early
search for food, sailed far above Henry's head, outlined--wing, beak and
talon--against the blue. The whole world, grass and leaves wet with dew,
basked in the morning light, wonderfully fresh and beautiful.
Henry awoke his comrades, who instantly sat up, every trained faculty
thoroughly alive.
"All been quiet, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol.
"Nothing happened," replied the boy, "except that the owner of this
house looked in once, called Tom Ross here an infamous robber, and then
went away, saying he would have revenge if he had to live a hundred
years to get it."
"Ef he's ez dang'rous ez that," said Shif'less Sol, lightly, "I say
let's move on right now, an' give him back his gor-gee-yous mansion."
The sense of humor and joy of life had fully returned to the shiftless
one. Another night's rest had added wonderfully to his strength, and the
coming of Henry and the finding of Tom contributed so much to the uplift
of his spirits that he considered himself as good, physically, as ever.
"I'm ready for anything now, from a fight to a foot-race," he said, "but
ef choosin' is to be mine, I'd rather hev breakfast. Tom, bring out that
deer meat o' yourn."
They quickly disposed of their food and resumed the reverse journey in
the path of their former flight. They passed through woods and tiny
prairies, crossed little brooks, and kept a sharp watch for landmarks.
Henry said at last that they had come to the place where Jim Hart had
been forced to turn aside.
"Do you reckon that Jim wuz hit hard?" asked Shif'less Sol.
"I hope not," replied Henry earnestly, "and the chances are all in his
favor. Stray bullets in the dark don't often kill."
"I figger," said Tom Ross, "that he waded up this little creek that
comes down here, and turns off to the south. It would be the thing that
any man would naterally do to hide his trail."
"We'll jest go along it," said Shif'less Sol, "rememberin' that Jim is
pow'ful long legged an' ef he took a notion would step out o' the water
an' up a cliff ten feet high."
They followed the creek nearly a mile, but did not see any place at
which a man would be likely to emerge. It was a swift stream coming down
from a mass of high hills, the blue outline of which they saw three or
four miles ahead of them.
"It's my belief," said Henry, pointing to the blue hills, "that Jim's in
there."
"It's pow'ful likely," said Shif'less Sol. "Injuns tryin' to take a fort
an' a fleet ain't likely to bother about a pile o' hills layin' out o'
their path. They go fur what they want."
"Best place fur him," said Tom Ross.
They now left the bed of the stream and advanced swiftly toward the
hills, which turned from blue to green as they came nearer. They were
high and stony, but clothed densely in dark forest. The shiftless one
had truly said that Indians on the war path, seeking the greatest prizes
that had ever come within their reach, would not bother about a patch of
such isolated and difficult country.
It was a long walk through the forest, but the day was come, and the air
made for briskness and elasticity. They searched occasionally by the
side of the brook for a footstep preserved in mud, or any other sign
that Long Jim had passed, but they found nothing. Nevertheless, they
still felt sure of their original opinion. Jim would have lain in the
bush through the night, and to make for the hills when he saw them in
the morning was the most natural thing to do.
When they came finally to the hills, they found them exceedingly steep,
jagged masses, thrown together in the wildest fashion.
"Ef we don't find Long Jim in here," said Shif'less Sol, "then I'm a
mighty bad guesser."
They sought everywhere for a trail but found none, and at last, crossing
a sharp crest of rock, they saw before them a little valley completely
hidden by cliff and forest from any but the closest observer. They began
the descent of the slope, passing among trees and thick bushes, and
Henry, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped and, smiling broadly,
pointed straight ahead.
"If that isn't the stamp and seal of Long Jim, then I'm blind," he said.
They saw a small snare for rabbits, made by bending over a stout bush,
to which was attached a cord of strong deerskin, cut perhaps from Long
Jim's clothing. This cord was fastened around a little circle of sticks
set in the ground. A little wooden trigger in the center of the circle
was baited with the leaves which rabbits love. When Mr. Foolish Rabbit
reached over for his favorite food, he sprang the trigger, the noose
slipped, caught him around the neck, the released bush flew back with a
jerk, and he was quickly choked to death.
"That's Long Jim all over," said Shif'less Sol admiringly. "I kin see
him in that buckskin cord, them sticks, an' that noose. Too weak to go
huntin', he sets a trap. Oh, he's smart, he is! An' he's been ketchin'
somethin', too. See this bit o' rabbit fur."
"Trust Long Jim to get something to eat," said Henry, "and to cook it
the best way that ever could be found. We must be coming pretty close to
him now."
"Yes, here are signs of his trail," said Tom Ross. "I'd bet my scalp
that he's got a dozen uv these snares scattered around through the
valley, an' that he's livin' on the fat uv the land without ever firin'
a shot. Stop, do you smell that?"
They stopped and sniffed the air inquiringly. A faint, delicate aroma
tickled the nostrils of all three. It was soothing and pleasant, and
they sniffed again.
"Now, that is Long Jim an' no mistake," whispered Shif'less Sol. "It's
shorely his sign."
"Seems to me you're right," Henry whispered back, "but we mustn't make
any mistake."
They crept down the slope, among the bushes, with such care that neither
could hear either of the other two moving. All the while that enchanting
aroma grew stronger. Shif'less Sol, despite his caution, was obliged to
raise his nose and take another sniff.
"It's Long Jim! It must be Long Jim! It can't be anything else but Long
Jim at work!" he murmured.
After ten minutes of creeping and crawling down the slope, Henry softly
pulled aside a thick bush and pointed with a long forefinger.
In a little dip, almost a pit, a long-legged, long-bodied man sat before
a rude oven built of stones evidently gathered from the surrounding
slopes. Within the oven smoldered coals which gave out so little smoke
that it was not discernible above the bushes. On the flat top of the
oven strips of rabbit steak were broiling, and from them came the aroma
which had been so potent a charm in the nostrils of the three.
The long-legged man sat in Turkish fashion, and his eyes were intent
upon his oven and steaks. One hand rested in a rude sling, but the other
held a stick with which he now and then poked up the coals. It was
obvious that he was interested and absorbed as no other task in the
world could interest and absorb him. The soul of an artist was poured
into his work. He lingered over every detail, and saw that it was right.
"Now, ain't that old Long Jim through an' through?" whispered Shif'less
Sol to Henry. "Did you ever see a feller love cookin' ez he does? It's
his gift. He's done clean furgot all about Injuns, the fort, the fleet,
us, an' everything except them thar rabbit steaks. Lemme call him back
to the world, that good, old, ornery, long-legged, contrary Jim Hart,
the best cook on this here roun' rollin' earth o' ours."
"Go ahead," said Henry.
Shif'less Sol raised his rifle and took a long, deliberate aim at Long
Jim. Then he called out in a sharp voice:
"Give 'em up!"
Long Jim sprang to his feet in astonishment, and uttered the involuntary
question:
"Give up what?"
"Them rabbit steaks," replied the shiftless one, emerging from the
bushes, but still covering Long Jim with his rifle. "An' don't you be
slow about it, either. What right hev you, Jim Hart, to tickle my nose
with sech smells, an' then refuse to give to me the cause o' it? That
would be cruelty to animals, it would."
"Sol Hyde! and Henry Ware! and Tom Ross!" exclaimed Long Jim joyfully.
"So you hev come at last! But you're late."
They grasped his hand, one by one, and shook his good arm heartily.
"Was that where you caught the bullet?" asked Henry, looking at the bad
arm.
Long Jim nodded.
"Broke?"
Long Jim shook his head.
"Thought so at first," he replied, "but it ain't. Bruised more'n
anything else, but it's been terrible sore. Gittin' better now, though.
I'll hev the use uv it back all right in a week."
"It seems that you haven't been faring so badly," said Henry.
Long Jim looked around the little valley and grinned in appreciation.
"I knowed I couldn't do anything about the fort with this bad arm," he
said. "Weakened ez I wuz, I wuzn't shore I could swim the river with one
arm, an' even ef I ever reached the fort I'd be more likely to be a
hindrance than a help. So I found this place, an' here I've stayed,
restin' an' recuperatin' an' waitin' fur you fellers to come back. I
didn't want to shoot, 'cause them that I didn't want to hear might hear
it, an' 'cause, too, I knowed how to set traps an' snares."
"We saw one of them as we came along," said Henry.
"They've worked bee-yu-tiful," said Long Jim, an ecstatic look coming
over his face. "I've caught rabbits an' a 'possum. Then I set to work
and built this oven, an' I've learned a new way to broil rabbit steaks
on the hot stones. It's shorely somethin' wonderful. It keeps all the
juice in 'em, an' they're so tender they jest melt in your mouth, an'
they're so light you could eat a hundred without ever knowin' that you
had 'em."
"That's what I'm thinkin'," said Shif'less Sol, reaching for his rifle.
"Gimme about twenty o' them steaks quicker'n you kin wink an eye, Jim
Hart, or I'll let you hev it."
Long Jim, the soul of an artist still aflame within him, willingly
produced the steaks, and all ate, finding that they were what he had
claimed them to be. But he waited eagerly for the verdict, his head bent
forward and his eyes expectant.
"Best I ever tasted," said Henry.
Long Jim's eyes flashed.
"Finer than silk," said Shif'less Sol.
Sparks leaped from Long Jim's eyes.
"Could eat 'em forever without stoppin'," said Tom Ross.
Long Jim's eyes blazed.
"I couldn't 'a' stood it ef you fellers hadn't liked my finest
'chievement," he said. "Shows you've got more sense than I thought you
had."
"Jim feels like Columbus did that time he discovered Ameriky," said
Shif'less Sol. "Knowed it wuz thar all the time, but wanted other people
to know that he knowed it wuz thar."
"It's a snug place, Jim, this little valley, or rather pit, of yours,"
said Henry, "but we must leave it at once and find Paul."
"That's shorely so," said Long Jim, casting a regretful look at his
oven, "but I wish we could come back here an' stay a while after we
found him. That thar oven don't look much, but it works pow'ful. I
b'lieve I could make some more uv them Columbus dis-kiv-er-ies with it."
"I don't think we will be back this way for a long time," said Henry,
"but your oven will keep. Sol is compelled to bear a similar sorrow. He
has the snuggest nest in the side of a cliff that ever you did see, but
he has left it just as it is, and he hopes to see it again some day."
"That bein' the case," said Long Jim, "I think I kin stand it, since Sol
here is my brother in sorrow."
They left the deep little valley, although Jim Hart cast more than one
longing glance behind, and began the search for Paul, who had been the
first to fall by the way. The four were a unit in believing that this
would be the most difficult task of all. Paul, although he had learned
much, was not a natural woodsman in the sense that the others were.
Henry had reckoned all the time upon certain laws of the forest which
Sol, Tom, and Jim would obey. He was with them like the skilled boxer
meeting the skilled opponent, but Paul might at any time strike a blow
contrary to science, and therefore unexpected. Although Paul had not
been wounded, Henry felt more apprehension about him than he had ever
felt about any one of the others, because of this very uncertainty.
They returned upon the back trail, and with four minds and four pairs of
eyes working, they had no great difficulty in locating the point at
which Paul had left them. Like most of the country it was heavily
wooded, and one could easily find a hiding place so long as the dark
lasted.
They located their own line of flight, not because any visible signs of
it were left, but because they remembered the region through which they
had run.
"Here is whar Paul turned away an' jumped into the bushes," said
Shif'less Sol, "an' he shorely didn't go fur, 'cause he wuz pow'ful
tired. I reckon Paul wuz tired enough to last him fur a month."
They turned to the eastward, and about a half mile further on, after
long search, they found a place in the densest bushes that showed signs
of crushing. Some twigs were broken, and several of the smaller bushes,
bent to one side by a heavy body, had not returned to their normal
position.
"Here is where Paul laid down to rest," said Henry.
"An' he wuz so tired he fell asleep an' slep' all night," said Shif'less
Sol.
"He shorely did," said Tom Ross, "'cause these bushes wuz bent so long
they ain't had time to straighten out ag'in."
"An' him with nothin' to eat the next mornin', poor feller," said Long
Jim sympathetically.
They were able to follow Paul's trail a rod or so by the bent bushes,
but then they lost it, and they stood conferring. Henry's eye fell upon
a mass of wild flowers on a distant hill slope, red, blue, and delicate
pink. He admired them at first, and then his eyes brightened with sudden
comprehension.
"Paul has always loved beautiful things," he said to his comrades. "He
does not forget to see them even in moments of danger, and he would
naturally go toward that slope over there covered with wild flowers."
Shif'less Sol slapped his knee in approval.
"You do reason fine, Henry," he said. "Paul would shorely make fur them
flowers, jest 'cause he couldn't help it."
They invaded the flower field, and, as all of them confidently expected,
they saw signs that Paul had been there. Some of the flowers were broken
down, but not many--Paul would take care not to injure them in such a
way. But Henry's shrewd eye noticed where several had been cut from the
stem. Paul had done this with his hunting knife, and probably he had
thrust one or more of the flowers into his buckskin hunting coat.
When they crossed the flower field the trail was lost again.
"Now," said Long Jim, "how are you goin' to tell what Paul wuz thinkin'
when he wuz comin' 'long here?"
Henry and Shif'less Sol wrinkled their brows in thought.
"Paul was not wounded," he replied. "After his night's sleep--and
probably he did not wake up until long after daylight had come--he was
thoroughly rested and as strong as ever. After making sure of his
direction from the hill top here, he would go toward the river, thinking
it his duty yet to reach the fort if he could."
"An' naterally," said Shif'less Sol, "he'd go whar the walkin' wuz
easiest, but whar thar wuz kiver so he couldn't be seen by warriors. So
he'd choose the easy slope under them big trees thar, an' go south
toward that valley."
"Reckon you're right," said Long Jim in a convinced tone. "That's just
about what Paul would do."
They descended the slope, an easy one, for a quarter of a mile, and came
to a valley thickset with bushes and blackberry vines containing sharp
briars.
"Paul wouldn't go crashin' into a briar patch," said Long Jim.
"He wouldn't, an' fur that reason he'd take this path," said Tom Ross,
pointing to a narrow opening in the bushes and briars.
It was evidently a trail made by animals, trodden in the course of time
in order to avoid a long circuit about the thicket, but they followed
it, believing that Paul had gone that way. When nearly through, Henry
saw something lying in the path. He stooped and held up the stem of a
rose with one or two faded petals left upon it.
"It fell out o' his coat, an' he never noticed it," said Shif'less Sol.
"Right, uv course," said Tom Ross.
Not far beyond the thicket was a brook of uncommon beauty, a clear
little stream bordered by wild flowers.
"Paul would stop here to drink an' look at all these here bee-yu-ti-ful
scenes," said Shif'less Sol.
"He would," said Henry, "and, being terribly hungry, he would then climb
that wild plum tree there beyond the oaks."
"Might throw up a stick an' knock 'em down," said Long Jim.
"There is no fallen wood here," said Henry, "and, being so ragingly
hungry, Paul would not hunt for a stick. He'd shin up that tree at
once."
"Tree itself will show," said Tom Ross.
"And it certainly does show," said Henry as they looked.
Little pieces of the bark on the trunk were broken off, evidently by a
heavy body as it had struggled upward. Shif'less Sol also found two plum
skins on the ground not far from the tree. The shiftless one held them
up for the others to see.
"Now, ain't that Paul all over?" Tom Ross said. "Knows all about how the
Carthygenians fit the French, an' how the English licked the Persians,
but here he goes droppin' plum skins on the groun' fur any wanderin'
warrior to see."
"Don't you go to attackin' Paul," said Shif'less Sol, "'cause Paul is a
scholar like me. I ain't had the opportunities fur learnin', but I take
naterally to it, 'specially history. So I kin understand why Paul,
thinkin' all the time about Hannibal an' Belisarry an' all them great
battles a long time ago, should throw his plum skins 'roun' loose,
knowin' thar ain't no Carthygenians an' Persians about these days to see
'em."
"Paul is shorely a good boy," said Tom Ross, "an' ef he wants to throw
plum skins, he kin. Now, we've got to figger on what he'll do next."
"Let's go to the top of that hill over there," said Henry, "and take a
look at the country."
The survey showed a tangled mass of forest and low hills, which seemed
to be monotonously alike in every direction. They could not see the Ohio
from their summit.
"I think it likely," said Henry, "that Paul has got lost. Maybe he has
been wandering about in a circle. I heard my Indians say that one lost
on the Great Plains often did that."
"Might be a good guess," said Shif'less Sol. "Let's go back to the plum
tree and try to take up his trail."
Paul's trail from the plum tree led in a northeasterly direction, and
they were sure now that he was lost, as the river lay to the south. But
the trail could not be followed more than twenty yards, and then they
held another council.
"Bein' lost," said Tom Ross, "it ain't likely that he's ever got more'n
two or three miles from here. Been spendin' his time goin' up an' down
an' back an' forth. Ef we'd fire a rifle he might hear it."
Henry shook his head.
"I wouldn't," he said. "We would be just as likely to draw the Indians
upon us, and we can find him, anyhow."
"Guess you're right," said Tom. "S'pose we spread out in a long line an'
go huntin' through the thickets, follerin' the general direction that
his little piece of trail showed."
The suggestion was approved, and in ten minutes a whistle from Tom Ross
drew them to a central point.
"Paul killed a wild turkey here," said Tom. "These woods seem to be full
uv 'em, an' he lighted a fire with his flint and steel. Had a hard time
doin' it, too. Knelt down here so long tryin' to knock out a blaze that
the prints uv his knees haven't gone away yet."
"But he did get it to goin' at last," said Shif'less Sol, "an' he cooked
his turkey an' et it, too. Here's the wishbone, all white an' shinin',
jest ez he throwed it down."
"And down here is the spring where he picked the turkey after he heated
it on the fire, and where he washed it," said Henry. "Paul was so hungry
he never thought about hiding the feathers, and a lot of 'em are left,
caught in the grass and bushes."
"I don't blame Paul," said Long Jim, his gastronomic soul afire. "Ef I
wuz hungry ez he must have been, I'd hev et it ef all the warriors uv
all the tribes on this continent wuz standin' lookin' on."
"Paul felt a pow'ful sight better after eatin'," said Shif'less Sol,
"an' he took the rest uv the turkey with him. Seems likely to me that
Paul would follow the brook, thinkin' it would flow into the Ohio."
"That's almost a certainty," said Henry.
They went with the stream, but it was one of those brooks common
throughout the West--it came out of the ground, and into the ground it
went again, not more than half a mile from the point at which they took
up its course. The stream disappeared under a natural stone arch in the
side of the hill.
"Paul was greatly disappointed," said Henry, "and of course he went to
the top of the hill to see if he could get a reckoning."
But the new hill merely revealed the same character of country.
"Seein' that he wuzn't gittin' anywhar, Paul, o' course, changed his
direction," said Shif'less Sol.
"Naturally," said Henry.
"Now which way do you figger that he would go?" said Tom Ross.
"Down through that big grove there," replied Henry. "Having killed one
turkey, he'd be on the look-out for another, and he knows that they
roost in tall trees."
"Looks to me like a kind o' mind readin'," said Shif'less Sol, "but I
think it's right. Lead on, Henry. Whar A-killus Ware will go, the
dauntless soul o' Hector Hyde ain't afeard to foller."
They searched for some time among the trees, and then Henry pointed to a
great elm. A section of bark nearly a foot square had been cut from it.
The bark was lying on the ground, but the inner lining had been clipped
from it and was gone.
"I jedge that this wuz done about a day ago," said Shif'less Sol. "Now,
what in thunder did Paul do it fur?"
"Suppose you ask him," said Henry, who had gone on ahead, but who had
now turned back and rejoined his comrades.
Astonished, they looked at him.
"He's sitting in a little valley over there, hard at work," said Henry.
"Come and see, but don't make any noise. It would be a pity to disturb
him."
Henry endeavored to speak lightly, but he felt an immense relief. They
followed him silently and looked cautiously into a pleasant little
glade. There they beheld Paul, alive, and to all appearances strong and
well.
But Paul was absorbed in some great task. He sat upon the ground. His
rifle lay on the grass beside him. A sheet of white was supported upon
his knees, and his face was bent over it, while he drew lines there with
the point of his hunting knife. So intensely interested was he, and so
deeply concentrated was his mind, that he did not look up at all.
"It's the inner bark of the elm tree, and he's drawing something on it,"
said Henry.
Jim Hart stirred. His knee struck a little stick that broke with a snap.
Paul heard it, and instantly he threw down the bark, snatched up his
rifle, and began to investigate.
"He'll come up here spyin'," whispered Shif'less Sol. "While he's
lookin', let's steal his bark away from him an' see what's on it."
"We'll do it," said Henry, and while Paul, rifle in hand, ascended the
slope to see what had caused the noise, they deftly slipped away,
descending to the other side of the glade.
When Paul entered the bushes, Shif'less Sol ran out, picked up the roll
of bark, and returned silently with it to his comrades, who lay in a
dense thicket. Filled with curiosity, all looked at it promptly.
"It's a map," whispered Henry, "and he's trying to locate himself in
that way. See, this long line is the Ohio, here is the route of our own
flight, this place is where he thinks he left us, and this line, I
suppose, shows his own course after he dropped out. This deep mark here
indicates where he now is. It's pretty good, but he's got everything
turned around. South is where east ought to be, and north has taken the
place of west."
"But what good is a map ef it don't take you anywhar?" asked Jim Hart.
"That's a plum' foolish question fur you to ask, Jim Hart," said
Shif'less Sol disdainfully. "Great scholars like me an' Paul always draw
maps. What does it matter ef you don't git anywhar? Thar's your map,
anyhow."
"Sh!" whispered Tom Ross. "He's comin' back, havin' diskivered that
thar's nothin' in the bushes. Now what'll he do?"
Paul, his mind relieved, returned to the glade, put back his rifle on
the grass, and looked for the precious map that was costing him so much
time and thought. It was not there, and great was the boy's amazement.
He had certainly laid it down at that very spot, and he had not been
gone a minute. He looked all around, and even up into the air, and the
four in the brush were forced to smile at his puzzled face.
Paul stood staring at the place where his precious map had lain, but
where it lay no more, and his amazement deepened. They admired Paul and
had a deep affection for him, but they thought that their little joke
might keep him nearer to the earth when he was in a dangerous Indian
country.
"Mebbe he thinks Alfred the Great an' his Mogul Tartars hev come an'
took it away," whispered Shif'less Sol.
Then Paul held up his hand.
"Feelin' o' the wind," said Shif'less Sol. "He hez now come to the
conclusion that the wind took his map away, and so he thinks ef he kin
find out which way it's blowin' he kin find out which way the map hez
blowed, too."
Paul concluded that the light wind was blowing toward the east, and
going in that direction he began to search for his map among the bushes
that enclosed the glade. The moment his figure was hidden Henry
whispered to the others:
"Come on!"
They came silently from the thicket, ran to the center of the glade,
where Henry, kneeling down, spread out the map on the ground and began
to examine it with the greatest attention. The others knelt beside him,
and they also became absorbed in a study of the map. The four heads
almost touched over the sheet of bark.
Paul, failing to find his map in the bushes, turned back to the glade.
Then he stood transfixed with astonishment. He saw four figures, the
backs of two, and the heads and shoulders of two more. Heads, backs, and
shoulders were familiar. Could it really be they? He winked his eyes
rapidly to clear away any motes. Yes, it was they, the four faithful
comrades with whom he had roved and hunted and fought so long. He
uttered a shout of joy and rushed toward them.
Paul's hands were shaken so often and so hard that his fingers were
numbed. A little moisture gathered on the eyelids of the sensitive boy
when he saw how glad they were to see him.
"You've found me," he said, "and it's so good to see you again that I
enjoy with you the little trick you've played on me."
"Pow'ful fine map, this o' yours, Paul," said Shif'less Sol, holding up
the sheet of bark. "'Pears to me you kin find everything on it, 'cept
whar you are."
"That was just the trouble with it, Sol," said Paul frankly. "It looked
fine to me, but I couldn't make it work."
"Well," said Henry, "here we are, together again, all five of us, ready
for anything. Isn't that so, boys, and isn't it fine?"
"Shorely," said Shif'less Sol, speaking for them all.
"Now, Paul," said Henry, "what were you trying to do?"
"I had an idea that I could reach the river," said Paul. "If I did so,
then I might be able to swim across it in the night, and take a warning
to Fort Prescott, if it wasn't too late."
"Got anything to eat left?" asked Tom Ross.
"I've had wild fruit," replied Paul, "and I shot a turkey, the last of
which went this morning, but I was hoping for more luck of that kind."
"Well," said Tom, "we, too, hev about et up all that we had. So we'll
hev to take a little hunt together. 'Twon't take long. Country's full uv
game."
They shot a deer within an hour, feasted abundantly and retained enough
more to last them several days.
"Wish we had Jim Hart's oven here," said Shif'less Sol as they ate.
"While Jim wuz waitin', Paul, he made more improvements in the art o'
cookin'."
Long Jim grinned with appreciation. It was a compliment that he liked.
"Now," said Henry, "the next thing for us to do is to find the fleet.
Mr. Boone told me that it was being held up in a narrow part of the
river by the Indian sharpshooters. I suppose that Adam Colfax doesn't
want to lose any more men for fear that he will grow short-handed before
he reaches Pittsburgh."
"But he's got to get through, an' he's got to help the fort, too," said
Shif'less Sol.
"That's so," said Henry, "and we must find him just as soon as we can."
Rising, they sped toward the southwest.