Very little time indeed was required for Return Kingdom to make clear to
Fishing Bird the work he wished to do. The Delaware was decidedly
surprised to learn that a white man, or men, of whom he knew nothing,
were encamped near the Cuyahoga and he also exhibited the liveliest
interest in the information Ree gave him concerning the two men murdered
at the salt springs.
The probability that John Jerome had been captured, however, interested
the Indian more than all else, though it distressed him, too. Repeatedly
he shook his head with an air of utmost gravity and regret.
Gen. Wayne was a man who did things. Once his plans were formed, their
execution went ahead without a moment's unnecessary delay, and in a very
short space of time he had caused men to be detailed to accompany
Kingdom and his loyal friend.
The boy's request that Sergeant Quayle be sent with him was promptly
granted and that good-natured son of Erin with three others, all
experienced woodsmen, gladly undertook the duty assigned them. They
agreed with Kingdom, too, that a large force of men would not be needed,
and that by care a small party would be able to accomplish more than a
greater number. They would be far less likely to attract attention or
invite an attack from ambush.
Late in the afternoon the well-armed band set out. By common consent
Kingdom was given general command, though he took counsel always with
the others. Only one circumstance marred his perfect confidence in the
expedition. This was the distrustful manner in which two of the woodsmen
constantly regarded Fishing Bird. They were Indian haters and Indian
fighters. They could "see no good in 'ary a single red mother's son of
'em," as one of them expressed it, "and didn't care who knowed it."
The Sergeant, however, was more charitably inclined. Being of buoyant
spirits, too, when somewhat relieved of the camp's restraints, he kept
everyone in a good humor with his droll remarks.
Even over the badly decomposed bodies of the two unfortunate men, killed
at the "big lick," his manner was the same.
"Sure, they'd ha' be'an far better presarved if put in the brine! An' so
much o' it, handy like, 'tis a shame, it is!" said he.
But notwithstanding, Quayle, as well as all the others, was much
affected by the awful sight the removal of the brush heap disclosed. Ree
knew from John's description just where to look for the bodies of the
murdered men, and he hoped to find something that his friend might have
overlooked, which would reveal the men's identities. Sergeant Quayle and
the woodsmen had also been anxious to see if they could not tell who the
unfortunates were, and it was for these reasons that the springs were
visited, though they lay somewhat away from the direct trail.
Nothing did the little party find to shed any light on the mysterious
murder. The older woodsmen declared that both the dead men must have
come from some distant point. If either had belonged anywhere in the
vicinity of the Ohio river, they would have seen them at some time, they
were sure. Sergeant Quayle was of the opinion, from the dress and
general appearance of the murdered pair, that they had come from some of
the British posts in the Northwest, probably Detroit. Yet he expressed
the belief that Indians had committed the murder, and only when Kingdom
reminded him of the evidence afforded by the pair of gloves that had
been found, did he say:
"Leastwise, we'll agree to this, lad; savages done it. White men or red
men, they was blackhearted savages that done such a dirty deed!"
The party spent a night in the vicinity of the salt springs. Though
regretting the least delay, and anxious always to be pushing on, Kingdom
was greatly interested in the evidences of civilization having at one
time had a foothold at the "lick," as John had been. He was fortunate in
learning more about the matter than Jerome had learned, however, for one
of the woodsmen--a great, broad-shouldered young fellow, whose name,
oddly enough, was Small,--knew much about the springs.
In camp at night he told the others how, several years earlier, Gen.
Samuel H. Parsons had come from Connecticut and attempted to establish a
salt factory at the place. He undertook to purchase twenty-five thousand
acres of land, embracing the springs and the territory about them, and
expected to reap a great fortune. He was greatly disappointed in the
quantity of salt the water contained, but might have carried out his
plan, anyway, had it not been that, in returning from the springs to the
east, he was drowned by the upsetting of his canoe at the Beaver falls.
The purchase of the great tract he had intended buying, was, therefore,
never completed.
"But as a rule, lad, ye'll note as ye go through life," said the
Sergeant to Ree--he nearly always addressed his words to Kingdom "as a
rule, ye'll note that parsons are more partial to poultry than to salt.
Still, ye'll do well to tie to the parsons, Lord bless 'em! It's a
preacher I'd ha' be'an me ownsilf but fur----"
The Sergeant left his exclamation unfinished and with a sigh, which was
also a chuckle, lay down and drew his blanket close about him.
Kingdom planned to lead his party directly to the cabin on the Cuyahoga.
He was hoping he would find John Jerome in that neighborhood or in
hiding at the old poplar, even while he told himself how little ground
he had for such a thought.
Men coming to Wayne's camp from Fort Pitt had brought word that John had
not been there, and where to look for him, excepting near the cabin, or
among the Delawares, Ree did not know. He was depending on Fishing Bird
to obtain information for him, however, and repeatedly, on the journey
west, the Indian would go a long distance from the others of the party
to find, if possible, some wandering redskins who might be able to give
him news of the capture of the lad they sought.
Although at no time was the Delaware in any way successful, he never
failed to rejoin Ree and his white friends at night. In every way, both
then and later, he proved himself thoroughly trustworthy and loyal,
despite the daily predictions of Jim Small that he would turn up missing
when he was most wanted, and be found hostile when his friendship was
most desired.
The march through the forest wilds was interrupted by no incident of
importance. Ree had left his horse at Wayne's encampment, as he had no
wish to ride while others walked, and, under the circumstances, the mare
would be a hindrance. Rapid progress was made by the "expedition," as
Sergeant Quayle always called the little band of six, however, and the
increasing severity of the weather was almost the only hardship of the
undertaking.
At the middle of an afternoon much pleasanter than the raw, cold days
which had preceded it, the expedition reached a point only a few miles
from the clearing and the river. A council of war was held and it was
decided that Ree and Fishing Bird should go forward to look for John at
the cabin, while Sergeant Quayle and the others turned off to the north
to await their report at a certain rocky ledge of which both Kingdom and
the woodsmen knew.
The chief reason for this action was the secrecy which must be observed
to prevent knowledge of the presence of so large a party reaching the
mysterious camp in the gully. The camp itself would be inspected under
cover of darkness and a decision could then be reached concerning the
best time and manner of surprising the murderers, and effecting their
capture. If it were found that the camp seemed permanently occupied, and
the occupants intending to stay indefinitely, they would be allowed to
rest in supposed security while John Jerome was being located.
Ree had seen from the first that the men who accompanied him were more
keenly interested in the lead mine than anything else. He would rather
have made the finding of John Jerome the first object to be achieved,
but he gave way to the wishes of the Sergeant in this instance, and now
he and Fishing Bird hastened on to the cabin.
Cautiously Kingdom and the Delaware approached the clearing. The sun
shone lazily, the air, though cool, was soft and still. Peace seemed
everywhere. It was hard to believe the reverse was true. And then came
the shock.
From the edge of the woods Ree saw the awful work Lone-Elk and his
warriors had done. Not a muscle of his face moved. Though even Fishing
Bird sorrowfully shook his head and put his arm before his eyes to shut
out the most unhappy scene, the boy remained cool and collected. No sign
of the tempest of grief and boiling anger that raged within him was
visible on the surface. With surprise the Delaware observed his calm
demeanor and heard him say:
"Whose work this is, Fishing Bird, we don't know. Just what has been
done, though, we can plainly see. I am afraid it means something worse.
So what I want you to do, good Fishing Bird, is to hurry to the Delaware
town. Hurry to the village and learn anything and all you can about what
has happened to Little Paleface. Whether the Delawares know much, or
nothing, come to me at the rocks where I am to meet my friends, tomorrow
morning. Come early, Fishing Bird, and bring good news if you can. Bring
bad news if you must. But most of all don't fail me."
"Every word Fishing Bird understands," the Indian answered, and in
another minute was gone.
For a very short time Ree lingered at the clearing's edge. Tears came to
his eyes, now that he was alone, when he looked at the fire-stained
chimney rising like a spectre above the ruin of ashes around it,--the
only thing left of his home. Quickly, however, he wiped the evidence of
his sorrow from his face. He glanced around for old Neb, the cart horse,
but saw nothing of the animal. "They've taken him too, no doubt," he
thought, and his heart grew more bitter and his face more stern, as he
turned away.
The ease with which Kingdom traversed the forest, up hill and down hill,
and his familiarity with the country for miles around, enabled him to
reach the meeting place at the rocky ledge almost as soon as Sergeant
Quayle and his companions. Briefly he told them what he had seen. They
asked questions which he could not answer, as he had not minutely
inspected the clearing, but he did not tell them his reason for not
having done so, though he knew it well. It was because he could not bear
to undertake the heart-breaking task.
"Anyway," said Sergeant Quayle, "our business tonight is t' see this
queer camp ye've tould us of, an' hear what the redskin tells in the
mornin'."
So were plans made accordingly and after a cold supper all hands set out
stealthily to inspect the haunt of the mysterious man in the gully. Ree
led the way, nor was his task difficult. The light of a small campfire
was seen reflected on the branches of the trees, even before the ravine
was reached.
Stooping low, and taking every step with care, all five approached the
edge of the bluff. For a few minutes nothing more than the small blaze
could be seen. But the fire had lately been replenished with fresh wood
and, with this evidence that some one was near, the watchers were
content to wait.
Soon a man came into view. He carried several slices of meat and,
sprinkling them freely with salt from a pouch at his belt, prepared to
broil them. Little did he suspect how intently his every movement was
scrutinized, for he mumbled to himself, and spread his great hands out
to the warmth of the blaze, as if he had no thought but to enjoy the
meal he was preparing. When the meat was cooked he ate greedily, then
disappearing for a few seconds, returned with more. This he disposed of
in the same way.
For perhaps half an hour he continued to sit near the fire, but rising
in a regretful manner, at last, he covered the embers with ashes, then
disappeared and returned no more.
Until far into the night Ree and his four companions remained watching,
then cautiously withdrew. The moonlight filtered through the leafless
branches of the trees and the air was very frosty. For warmth and rest
Kingdom led the party to the hollow whitewood. Here a conference was
held and the decision reached to return to the camp in the gully just
before daybreak.
Whether the others slept Ree did not know. They all were wrapped in
their blankets and very quiet. But he knew that he did not sleep, nor
could he had he tried. The loss of John, the burned cabin, the whole
sorrowful end of all the bright hopes of a few weeks before kept his
thoughts too unhappily occupied, and he was glad of the darkness that it
concealed his grief and pain.
Sometime before dawn Sergeant Quayle stretched himself and sat up.
Kingdom did likewise and the others were also soon astir. With the same
care as before, they moved upon the haunted ravine, and chose their
places, each a little distance from the others, but all where they could
hurry down the steep hillside at a moment's notice.
The sun was just rising as the tenant of the lonely camp came suddenly
into the light, stretching himself and yawning.
The click of the Sergeant's rifle as he cocked it was the signal, and it
sounded loud enough. Silently, swiftly and almost noiselessly the five
men descended the bluff, and, almost before the murderer's yawn
permitted his mouth to close, it was open again, but this time in
extraordinary astonishment. He was surrounded by stern, strange faces.