THE HUNT FOR GAME
At the words of the hunter the boys looked up and saw the scout
approaching. He was a tall, lean man, quiet in his bearing, in the prime
of middle life, and with every indication of self-control, as well as of
strength, stamped upon his face and form. His expression showed that he
was anxious concerning the shots which had been fired, but as he drew
near the boys he was not the first to speak. Peleg's admiration was
manifest in the manner in which the young pioneer looked up to the great
leader, though the boy, like others of his day and age, seldom spoke to
his elders unless first they had spoken to him.
In response to the question which was expressed in the eyes of Daniel
Boone, rather than in words, Sam Oliver said quietly, "The boys shot a
painter."
There was a slight smile on the face of Daniel Boone as he said, "Did
they? Was it necessary?" he added, as he turned to his son.
"Yes, sir," replied young Boone. "The varmint was just ready to spring
on Peleg. He was crouching on the branch of a tree directly over him,
and if I had not fired he would have had him."
"It must be right. You know," added Boone quietly, smiling again as he
spoke, "I am one of those who believe that whatever happens is right."
"And yet," suggested the hunter, "you don't stop tryin' for yourself,
nor for others, either."
"Not at all," answered the scout. "A man must follow the best light he
can get and then, beyond that, where he cannot go, he must believe that
things do not 'happen.' I have heard some men blame their 'luck' for
what befell them. I have never thought there was any such thing as
'luck.' The trouble is we do not always see the connection in events,
and in our ignorance we say a thing 'happens.' I am sorry the boys had
to shoot the painter."
"I never knew," laughed the loquacious Sam, "that you had any sympathy
to waste on those critters."
"I haven't," replied Daniel Boone, a trace of a smile again appearing on
his face as he spoke. "I am not sorry that the painter was shot. I am
sorry that the boys had to shoot it. Just now I am more afraid of their
rifles than I am of painters."
The trio looked quickly into the face of the leader, but his quiet
expression was unchanged, and what he may have implied by his statement
he did not explain.
"I do not love the varmints," said Sam, shaking his head. "I shall put
them out of the world every chance I get."
"So shall I," assented Boone, "although sometimes I feel sorry that I
have to do so. I do not suppose that a painter is following anything
else than the instinct which was given him, the same as a hound dog
follows the track of a rabbit."
"How about men?" inquired Sam.
"I believe the same thing is true of men," said Daniel Boone seriously.
"Fortunately for me, I had a good father and a good mother, so that when
I was a child I was kept free from many of the things which drive some
people I have known into divers sorts of evil."
The little party was advancing steadily during this conversation, and
apparently, now that the explanation of the two shots had been given,
the leader was no longer apprehensive. To Peleg, however, who was
watchful of the man's every movement, it seemed as if he was continually
listening for sounds which the others were unable to hear. The boy was
aware of the threatening peril from the Indians, although not once had a
red man been seen since the emigrants had departed from Powell's Valley.
But the fact that the Shawnees kept themselves hidden from sight by no
means proved that they might not be near. Frequently he and James Boone
had talked over the possibility of an attack by their foes, but the
presence of the additional forty men that had joined the expedition
recently provided an added sense of security. They felt that it was
doubtful if even a large band of warriors would venture to attack a
party so well defended as was that now led by Daniel Boone.
When the sun set the entire band halted and preparations were made for
the night. The few wagons were drawn toward one spot and left with their
rear ends turned toward the forest. An enclosure was formed in this way,
in the centre of which a fire was kindled and preparations for supper
were speedily made. Meat from the deer which had been shot the preceding
day was roasted on spits turned by some of the younger children. Only a
scanty supply of vegetables was to be had, and for the most part the
hardy settlers were compelled to rely upon the supplies of game which
the boys and Sam Oliver and other hunters had no difficulty in obtaining
in the forest.
Guards were assigned for the night, one man being stationed on each of
the four sides of the camp and close to the encircling wagons. The dogs
which accompanied the expedition were also used as aids in detecting
the presence of enemies, but throughout the night nothing more dangerous
than a deer or a curious night-bird was heard.
There were several young girls in the company whose duties consisted
largely in looking after the younger children and in helping prepare the
meals when the emigrants halted. There was an air of confidence in the
bearing of almost all the members of the expedition, but Peleg Barnes
was convinced that Daniel Boone himself was far from feeling at ease.
The boy felt sure, of course, that the leader was anxious not for his
own safety, but for those who were following him in their search for the
wonderful land which he had found in Kantuckee.
Before sunrise preparations for the resumption of the journey were
completed, and after an ample breakfast, though the food did not differ
materially from that of the preceding evening, the word to depart was
given.
The little children and many of the women rode on the backs of the
horses, some of which were hauling the heavy wagons that contained the
simple household possessions of the emigrants. As there were more horses
than wagons, there was ample provision made for all who were unable to
endure the hardships of the march. The sister of young Boone, however,
frequently insisted upon walking with her brother, except when he was
to be one of the guards. No fresh excitement occurred and no fears were
aroused until after the band had passed Walden's Mountain.
"Cumberland Mountain is not far beyond," said Sam to Peleg and young
Boone when the nightly camp had been made after a second mountain had
been crossed. "When once we get beyond that we shall soon see the land
o' promise. I think to-morrow I shall have to take you two boys with me
and see if we cannot get some fresh venison. Our stores are runnin' low,
and a few pa'tridges or wild turkeys would not be bad, either, and I am
sure we shall find plenty o' both in the valley."
"There must be pigeons left from those we shot yesterday," suggested
Peleg.
"There are some," replied the hunter, who was in general charge of the
larder, "but it would be a change for us if we could get a few turkeys.
We ought to find some fish, too, in the stream in the valley, and I
think I shall set some o' the boys to catchin' them. We shall go ahead
o' the main party to-morrow, or else let the band go ahead of us, so
that if there happen to be any redskins on our trail they will not
mistake us for the whole band."
"Have you seen any more signs?" inquired Peleg quickly.
[Illustration: "He was a tall, lean man, quiet in his bearing, and with
every indication of self-control, as well as of strength, stamped upon
his face and form"]
"Plenty o' signs, but we have not seen one o' the varmints. I know from
the way Daniel Boone is watchin' that he is a bit fearful. I think I
shall tell him to-morrow when we start for our game that we will let the
rest o' the party go ahead of us and we will bring up the rear. It may
save time to do that, because it will be easy to follow the trail they
will leave. Most of this country is new to me and the only one that is
sure of his way is the scout himself."
"I think that would be better," assented young Boone, "and, besides, if
we hunt in the rear of the party we shall be able to do double duty by
serving as a rear guard at the same time."
"That is right," laughed Sam. "Though that's for the King to say. The
great trouble with him is that he does not say very much."
"You have never been troubled that way, have you, Sam?" laughed Peleg.
"I can't say that I have. I think o' so many things; and if I think o'
them I want some one else to know what they are, too. You make your
arrangements with the King and we will be ready to do our share on the
morrow."
Accordingly, on the following day, when the advance was resumed, Sam
Oliver and his two young comrades waited for the cavalcade to pass and
then began their task of providing supplies and game for the company.
The emigrants now were nearing Cumberland Mountain. The three mountains
were not far apart and looked almost as if they had been carefully
planted at equal distances in the midst of the wilderness by some giant
hand. Some of the cliffs were so wild and rugged that when the creaking
wagons drew near the edge the children screamed in their terror. In the
main, however, the trail was less difficult than had been expected. The
huge masses of rock had been torn asunder in places by some volcanic
action in preceding ages and had left narrow passageways through which
the moving cavalcade was able to proceed without much difficulty.
October had come and the foliage which had been slightly tinted in the
preceding days had turned to a deeper shade. The trees were now ablaze
with colour. Sam Oliver in his enthusiasm declared that within a half
hour he and his companions would be able to rejoin the company with
ample supplies for the following day.
When the boys began their search for game his words seemed about to be
verified: near the mountain brook they spied three deer, two of which
fell at their first shot. Sam, who had preferred to hunt alone, also
must have found game plentiful, the boys concluded, because twice within
five minutes the report of his gun had been heard.
"We must get some turkeys before we go back," suggested Peleg.
"I am afraid you will have to wait until later in the day if you want to
get them," responded young Boone.
"I don't know about that," began Peleg. He stopped abruptly when, as if
in confirmation of his own opinion, a gobble was heard not far to their
right. This was quickly followed by an answering gobble from their left.
"You take one and I will look for the other," eagerly suggested young
Boone.
The plan was instantly adopted, and each of the boys, crouching low and
stealthily making his way among the trees and through the brush, tried
to steal upon the bird, which still was noisily announcing its presence.
James Boone moved forward thirty yards from the place where he had left
his comrade and cautiously peered about him for a sight of the calling
turkey. His feet, clad in moccasins, made little noise as he advanced
over the moist ground. Deftly he parted the bushes in making his way,
and they closed behind him with no more noise than as if they had been
swayed by a gentle breeze.
Suddenly young Boone came to a place from which he was able to see
plainly a short distance before him. The gobble now was so distinct
that, he held his gun in readiness for instant use. Cautiously
advancing, he peeped from behind a tree, hopeful that he might obtain a
sight of the bird he was seeking. To his terror he saw an Indian
directly before him leaning against the trunk of a huge tree. The mouth
of the warrior was partly closed by his hands. His face was daubed with
paint, and his discoloured cheeks seemed to be doubly disgusting as he
emitted sounds which even the keenest of the wild turkeys would scarcely
have detected as different from its own.