MAD ANTHONY'S SCOUTS;
OR,
THE RANGERS OF KENTUCKY.
BY EMERSON RODMAN.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by
FRANK STARR & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
MAD ANTHONY'S SCOUTS;
OR,
THE RANGERS OF KENTUCKY.
CHAPTER I.
COMRADES OF THE FOREST.
"Haow dew yeou dew, cap.?"
"Fine, yer honor; and how is yerself?"
A tall, spare specimen of the backwoodsman, who was sitting by
a smouldering camp-fire, had arisen and grasped the hand of a
genial-faced Irishman, who was also clad in the habiliments of the
forest.
"My name is Smith, Hezekiah Smith," said the former, "What is yours?"
"Pat Mulroony, lately from Tipperary, Ireland, may it plase yer honor."
"Haow did you--how was it you came to find me, if I may be allowed to
inquire?" asked Smith, peering round in his face.
"I was jist thraveling through the forest, when I spied the shmoke
of fire, and says I to meself, says I, 'There's ayther some graan
youngster, or a band of haythen, as doesn't care who saas their
camp-fire,' and with that, I pokes around in the wood till I spies you
cookin' your legs over the blaze, when I knows by the swate expression
of yer countenance, that ye was a gintleman, and, bedad, I finds I was
right."
"What might you be doing? What's your business?" pursued Smith,
laboring under a great curiosity.
"Faith, I'm an _adventoorer_, as the convict said. I've been wanderin'
in these parts for siveral wakes, without catchin' glimpse of a white
skin, till I came upon you."
"That ain't what I mean. What brought you out here in the first place?"
"Me legs," replied the Irishman, decidedly.
"Just so, just so; if you've no objection, I'd like to know your
_motive_, not meaning any offence at all."
"Begorrah, but ye're axin' too much," replied Pat, with a shake of his
head. "Niver ye mind the _indoocement_ that I has for taking to the
woods. If I may be so bold, what was the same motive that brought
yerself here?"
"Nothing in particular--nothing in particular," replied Smith, as if
the subject was distasteful to him.
It was plain that both of these characters had a secret history--a
history which each was determined should remain a secret with himself.
The short conversation recorded above had been sufficient for this
fact to become evident to both, and as if by mutual consent, neither
made any further reference to it. It sufficed that they were white,
civilized beings, wanderers in a dangerous territory, where neither,
for an hour, could be assured of his own safety, and where both lacked
the great safeguard of experience. This was enough to make them firm
and fast friends at once.
"Are you baound up or down the river," queried Hezekiah Smith, refering
to the Ohio, which was but a few hundred yards distant.
"Faith, it's little difference where I'm bound, as the man said when
then the haythen Injuns bound him to the stake. How is it wid yerself?"
"I'm goin' daown."
"So is meself, if ye's willin' to accept of me company."
"I'm right glad to have you, for I care mighty little abaout goin'
much further in this all-fired country, without some one to keep me
company. It's the _ornerest_ piece of country I ever seed in all my
born days."
"As we agraas so well on the principles, be the same token, we'll agraa
on the partic'lars. I'm thinkin' I've seen more of this country pra'ps,
than ye has yerself, but it's a mighty little I've seen, after all.
But, be the howly powers, it's meself knows enough not to kindle a fire
in broad daylight, in these parts."
"But, Pat, s'pose you fall in the creek, and get wet, as I did--how in
the name of human nature are you to dry yourself?"
"Dry yourself, is it?" repeated the Irishman, surveying his friend from
head to foot; "and what is it ye wishes to dry yerself fur? Bedad,
you'll find, if you're long in these parts, you'll have to go wet and
hungry more than once."
"About what time do you suppose it might be?" asked Hezekiah Smith,
after a moment's pause.
Pat Mulroony squinted one eye up to the sky, as if he was looking at
the face of a clock, and answered:
"It lacks an hour or so yet of noon. Are ye cravin' something to ate?"
"O ginger, no! S'pose we set out upon our journey, as I don't exactly
see how we're goin' to gain anything by standing here."
"Who laids the way?"
"I'll follow you, as you know more of the woods than I do."
Pat Mulroony struck out toward the Ohio River, closely followed by
Hezekiah Smith. Each took long, regular strides, frequently snapping
the twigs beneath their feet in spite of the care and caution exercised
by each. They were two noticeable personages as they thus pressed
forward, each with a long, beautiful rifle slung over his shoulder, and
each attired in a demi-savage dress. The New Englander being some five
or six inches the taller, was constantly peering over the shoulders of
his leader, his curiosity being almost sufficient several times to make
him take the lead himself.
They had walked some distance, when Hezekiah caught the shimmer of
water through the trees, and knew they were approaching the Ohio.
Moving several yards further, they were almost upon the bank, when Pat
Mulroony fell flat upon his face as suddenly as if his feet had been
tripped from beneath, and Smith, perfectly dum-founded at this curious
movement, gazed bewildered at him for a second. Then thinking he had
fallen and injured himself, he stooped to assist him to his feet.
Motioning him off, Pat spoke rapidly in a ghostly whisper:
"Drop down on yer face! hide quick! down wid ye! quick! quick! the
devil himself is coming down the river."
This overwhelming intelligence caused Hezekiah also to "come down,"
as suddenly as the Irishman, and for a moment nothing but the deep
breathing of each could have been heard. But at the end of that time,
the curiosity of Smith began to show itself.
"What does he look like, Pat?"
"Did you ever set eyes on a tappin-snarkle?"
"Yes; one of them once bit half of my big toe off, when I was wadin' in
a mill-pond."
"Well, bedad, when I cotched the glimpse of him, he looked like a
tappin-snarkle, as big as a house."
The curiosity of Hezekiah Smith was roused to its highest pitch. Such a
dreadful monster as had been seen by the Irishman, if coming down the
river, must soon pass before his view also; and he accordingly lifted
his head slowly, until he had raised it and his shoulders perhaps a
couple of feet, when he suddenly dropped it again, as if a thousand
pound weight had fallen upon his head.
"Did ye see it?" inquired Pat, not daring to lift his own head.
"No; but I was afraid it might see me," replied Hezekiah, slowly
raising his head again.
Taking courage from his immunity, Pat Mulroony gradually straightened
his arm until he had brought his head nearly on a level with his
companion's, when they both looked long and searchingly through the
trees, but without discovering the Satanic personage that had been
announced.
While gazing thus, a sudden rushing sound was heard, and the heads
of our two friends dropped so suddenly that Hezekiah bit his tongue
sorely, and the chin of the Irishman dented far into the earth.
"Jerusalem! he hadn't wings, had he?" asked Hezekiah, turning his face
around so as to speak to the Irishman.
"He was paddlin' when I saw him, and was too big to flit among the
trees here--howly mother! there he comes agin!"
As he spoke, several quails sped overhead with that whirring noise
peculiar to the bird. This explained the cause of their fright.
Familiarity with danger breeds contempt, and our two friends, gathering
courage every moment, again raised their heads, and looked steadily
and unflinchingly out among the trees upon the river. And while thus
engaged, they saw what at first appeared to be a small house floating
down the river. As it drifted slowly past, the two rose to their feet,
and ventured nearer the shore.
"O thunder!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith, with a sigh of relief, "that's
what they call a flat-boat."
"How do you know?" asked Pat; "ye says ye have never been in these
parts, and how do you know what one is?"
"When I was at Pittsburgh, I seen two set out down the river, and they
looked just like that."
"Be jabers! if it's a flat-boat there must be some one aboard of it,"
added Pat, his countenance lighting up; "and if there's some one aboard
of it, be the same token, there's a chance of our getting down the
river."
Hopeful and joyous, both scrambled headlong down the bank with the
brilliant idea in their heads. The flat-boat was in the centre of the
current, and, had the appearance of a square box; or, perhaps, a better
idea of it could be given by comparing it to a cabin resting upon a
scow, whose gunwales run higher than usual on every side. A long,
sweeping oar was hung at either end, for the purpose of keeping the
vessel in the channel, and guiding it through eddies and dangerous
passages in the river. Not a living soul upon it was visible.
"Drat the luck!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith, after stumbling along the
shore for several minutes.
"Be the powers, but we'll _boord_ the craft, and take possession!"
Hezekiah caught at the idea, and had already stepped into the water to
carry it into execution, when Pat, with an exclamation of astonishment
and alarm, caught him by the shoulder and drew him back.