Beside their campfire, near the spot where a mossy stone marked Lobb's
last resting place, the two boys and their friends discussed their
future movements. All were interested in visiting the murderer's camp in
the ravine, and Jim Small declared his intention of making search for
the Seneca's lead mine. He believed the Indian had some good reason for
telling the Delawares he knew of such a mine, and, though the others did
not agree with him, he held to his theory.
In substance Small's idea was that, inasmuch as out-and-out lying was
not an Indian trait, Lone-Elk must have had some basis for his story
more than had been discovered. However, time proved that this theory was
not well founded. Jim was right in his assertion that Indians did not
make lying a practice, but in this as well as in his ambition to be a
leader, whatever the cost, the Seneca was less honorable than Indians
were as a rule, before trickery and firewater had corrupted them.
Despite their fatigue and the day's exciting events, the woodsmen and
the two boys remained awake far into the night. They were alert and
watchful, however, for the older men placed no confidence whatever in
the savages, and all screened themselves from sight by lying down among
the bushes near which their fire was built.
Besting thus, and speaking in low tones, John told the story of his
adventure and in turn heard with great interest the story of Lobb's
capture and confession. There were tears in Ree's eyes when Jerome
described the burning of the cabin, and for the first time he felt in
his heart a hatred deep and endless toward the Indians as a whole.
The Sergeant and his men were astonished to learn of the many lively
skirmishes the two pioneer boys had had with the savages at different
times, and expressed their wonder that both had not been scalped long
ago.
"Ye'll desarve it, too, if ever ye come to these hostyle parts ag'in,"
Quayle told them. "Whist! It beats all, so it do, that mere spalpeens
get through where whiskers a full foot long can't go!"
The morning came, cold and raw, with a feeling of show in the air. With
some haste the little party ate a breakfast of roasted smoked meat and
resumed the march toward the gully. They paused for half an hour in the
clearing and Ree and John soon found Neb, sheltering himself from the
wind, back of a clump of bushes. Every particle of harness had been
destroyed by the fire, and only a strip of buckskin could be found
wherewith to lead the horse. Neb was very docile, however, and upon his
willing back a roughly fashioned pack was soon placed. It contained corn
and potatoes from the fields the boys had cultivated, and various
articles of baggage of which the woodsmen were glad to be relieved.
Before leaving the clearing Ree and John went again to the heap of ashes
which marked the cabin site. Together they surveyed the ruins and were
glad of the opportunity to speak to each other some words of sympathy
their companions would not hear. As they did so, John noticed sticking
in the half-burned end of a log a blood-stained tomahawk.
"Look! Lone-Elk came here!" he said.
"I declare," returned Kingdom solemnly, "his hatred is something almost
more than human. Venting his feelings by leaving that hatchet at this
spot! I suppose he intends it as a warning!"
Neither boy was disposed to touch the weapon and they left it--left it
and the remnants of their fallen hopes and castles among the ashes of
the cabin. Ree sighed as they turned away. "But still," he said,
brightening, "we have enough to be thankful for, after all."
It was nearly noon when the camp in the gully was reached. Apparently no
one had been near since the capture of Lobb, and no reason to doubt the
truthfulness of the story the guilty wretch had told could be
discovered, excepting that no gold was found.
"We'd orter got that 'fore we took the heathen away," said one of the
woodsmen, and the others agreed.
Ree and John, however, did not greatly care. With the others, they made
careful search of the vicinity, however. Nothing did they find except a
few articles of food, some cooking utensils, a bullet mold and a
quantity of lead and powder in the low, shallow cave concealed among the
bushes. All the afternoon was given up to hunting for the lead mine and
the gold thought to be hidden near by. But the Seneca's mine, if he had
one, remains undiscovered to this day. Neither was the slightest trace
of the treasure sent for the Indians, but who never received it, found.
The searchers made camp at night near the hollow whitewood, whose
sheltering trunk protected Ree, John and the Sergeant. The others
scoffed good-naturedly, saying the first three were no better than
bears. Nevertheless the tree was a very comfortable place, and
especially on this occasion, for during the night much snow fell.
The desirability of reaching Wayne's camp as soon as possible was
apparent to all members of the party and rapid marching was agreed upon.
A halt of a half day for hunting, with the result that a quantity of
fresh venison and several turkeys were carried into camp, was the only
delay in the journey to the east, and the distance of nearly one hundred
miles was covered in a little more than five days.
Gen. Wayne sent for both Kingdom and Jerome the day following their
arrival and from them heard a full account of the salt springs murder,
the death of Lobb, and the indisputable evidence that the British at
Detroit were extending aid to the redskins throughout the Northwest
territory. He cautioned the boys that they must not think of returning
to their clearing, and, thinking perhaps of the military ambitions of
his own boyhood, the sham battles he had arranged and fought, and the
sieges he had planned, asked them if they would like to join his
"Legion." It was by this name that he always called the army he was
assembling.
Thanking him, and saying they would like to think of his offer and talk
it over, the lads took leave of the great soldier, feeling very well
satisfied with themselves.
In the end, however, Ree and John did not join the "Legion." They were
not lacking in courage, nor in patriotism. But within the next few days
John was taken very sick. The injuries and exposure he had suffered were
the cause of it, the army surgeon said. He was removed to Fort Pitt and
the winter was half over before he was again able to be out of doors. He
regained strength slowly and with the coming of spring he and Ree,
mounted on Neb and Phoebe, made the trip by easy stages to Connecticut.
Three years passed before the boys went west again, and along the whole
frontier peace reigned supreme. Wayne's victory over the savages at the
Battle of Fallen Timbers effectually ended their resistance to
civilization's advance in the Ohio country, and never again did a
serious outbreak occur in the region named. By the treaty of Fort
Greenville in 1796 the extreme eastern boundary between the settlers and
the Indians was definitely fixed at the Cuyahoga and Tuscarawas rivers
and the portage path. It so remained until the treaty of Fort Industry
in 1805 when the Indians sold the lands west of the path and the rivers
named.
The village of Captain Pipe on the little lake had by this time long
since disappeared. As a nation the Delawares were scattered and their
numbers were small. Eventually they found homes in a far western
reservation.
Although Ree and John never saw the honest, loyal Fishing Bird again,
they heard of him as taking a gallant part, on the side of the Indians,
of course, in the Battle of Fallen Timbers. Report reached them also of
a most bitterly hostile savage who was among the killed in this battle.
He fought with his last breath. Though shot twice through the body, he
raised himself on his elbow and sunk his knife into a wounded soldier
who had fallen near him. That this redskin was Lone-Elk, the Seneca,
there can be little doubt.
There is a tradition that the beautiful daughter of Captain Pipe so
attracted a young warrior, whose admiration she did not like, that he
poisoned himself when she rejected his attentions. Another tradition
states that Gentle Maiden was cruelly shot by two white men, while
walking alone in the woods. I do not know whether these legends are
supported by fact nor do I know if there is any truth whatever in the
tradition of there having been a lead mine in the Cuyahoga valley, the
existence of which was known only to the Indians.
Return Kingdom and John Jerome did not settle again where their original
clearing had been. There was a reason and it was that pretty Mary
Catesby, a very early friend of Ree's, having become Mrs. Return
Kingdom, was a party to the plans for the permanent removal west. She
wanted to be somewhere within reach of neighbors. Woman-like, she had
her way, and Ree bought land near Marietta. Where Kingdom was John
Jerome was sure to be, and he owned the adjoining farm.
Both the boys, now to manhood grown, were active in the public affairs
of the state of Ohio, organized a few years later, and many a day and
evening found them together in conference concerning matters of mutual
interest. They did not always agree, but it is certain they never
quarreled. Their lives were blessed with many quiet joys and even when
sorrows came they also were shared and each grief and burden seemed the
lighter.
More and more often in later years, as the two went down the sun-kissed
slope of lives well spent did they speak of the adventures of their
youth. Maybe John was inclined to brag a little. Some say so. But both
were liked by all.
To the end of his days John looked up to Ree as to an elder brother, and
if he did brag it was of Kingdom's exploits, rather than his own, and
the latter was wont to smile, "Well, well! They were days quite brisk
enough, and pleasant now to talk about; but in quite a different way the
present days are brisker, after all."
THE END.