THE WHITE SHAWNEE
There was no open attack by the Indians such as had been made
previously, though the yells of the warriors were frequently heard in
the distance. It was plain that they were striving to terrorize the
hardy settlers and make them turn back on their way.
One of the men who had been stationed as a guard was shot early in the
morning and his mutilated body was not found until Daniel Boone, making
a tour of the camp, discovered what had befallen his companion.
Returning to the camp, Boone summoned his men, and as soon as they were
assembled, said to them: "We must stop our work on the road for a time
and build a fort."
There was an expression of consternation on the faces of some of his
comrades as they heard this quiet statement from the scout, and, aware
of what was in their minds, though no one spoke, Daniel Boone continued;
"It will not require many days. I think a fortnight will be sufficient
for us to build such a fort as will protect us. We are now almost as
far on our way as we wish to go. We will begin the work at once."
Whatever disappointment or fears may have been in the minds of his
companions, no one made any open protest, and the task immediately was
begun. Certain of the men were assigned to the felling of trees, others
dug trenches and set the logs in the stockade, which was erected first.
When the stockade had been completed, various cabins were built wherein
the men might live if they were compelled to seek the refuge of the
fort.
The defences were erected near a spring of water that promised to be
never-failing. Nearby was the river, so close to the fort as to enable
the defenders to escape if flight became necessary. And yet the fort was
sufficiently far from the banks to prevent an approach by their enemies
without being discovered.
So steadily did the men labour that Boone's prophecy was fulfilled, and
when fourteen days had elapsed the little fort was declared to be ready
for occupancy. The stockade was strong and had been made of the stakes
fashioned from the trees. One end of each log was sharpened and then all
were driven into the ground side by side; portholes being provided at
frequent intervals.
A feeling of intense relief came to the hardly beset men when the work
was completed. The supreme thought, however, in the mind of the leader,
was voiced when he explained to Peleg the following day: "It is now
April, and I must go back to the settlement on the Clinch for my
family."
"Alone?" inquired Peleg quickly.
"Yes, alone. I must not take one man away from the party here, and I
shall be doubly anxious for you all while I am gone; but the time has
come when I may think of my family and myself. In this wonderful land I,
too, would make my home."
"But will you dare to come back with your family with only you and
Israel to protect them?"
Boone's face lighted up with the rare smile which occasionally appeared
upon it as he said: "There will be others, many others, I hope, who will
join us on our way."
"I never knew the Indians to be so savage as they are now," suggested
Peleg anxiously.
"That is true," said Boone, "and one cannot altogether blame them. They
seem to be well-nigh mad in their hatred of us because we have begun to
build our homes in the land which they planned to keep as their own. If
it were not for their fear of the 'Long Knives,' as they term us, I
fancy they would make a desperate assault very soon. As it is, however,
they have a wholesome feeling of fear mingled with their anger, and
although you will have to be continually on your guard, I do not
believe they will venture to attack the fort while I am gone."
Peleg made no reply, and the scout, acting as if the last word had been
spoken, soon after set forth on his long journey to the Clinch.
During the absence of their leader the men continued their labours,
felling the trees and clearing the land, until in the immediate vicinity
of the fort sufficient ground had been made tillable to enable them to
plant the few seeds which Boone had insisted should be brought with
them.
The days now were warm, and the delights of the marvellous climate were
appreciated by all the men.
The only event of special interest that occurred during the absence of
the scout was the coming of Sam Oliver. As unconcerned as if he had long
been a member of the company and had earned his thirty-three cents per
day for his labours, the hunter entered the fort one night and
composedly received the warm greetings which were given him. It was well
known that the newcomer was a famous shot, and the coming of even one
man strengthened the little garrison not a little.
The general line of the defence of the fort was at once mapped out by
Sam, who without a word assumed the position of leader. It was he who
arranged the details and the nightly guards which were maintained, and
it was his word which decided any dispute that arose among the men.
One day Peleg was on guard in the adjacent forest. His watch was almost
ended and he was about to return to the fort, when he was startled to
behold an Indian approaching with the palms of both hands extended.
Holding Singing Susan in readiness for instant use, and glancing keenly
about him into the adjacent forest to make sure that his visitor was
unaccompanied, Peleg waited patiently for the stranger to approach.
As the warrior drew near Peleg looked at him with increasing
astonishment. Dressed in the Indian garb, the warrior, who seemed to be
only about twenty years of age, nevertheless had no features like those
of the neighbouring tribes. Tanned, the stranger undoubtedly was, but
nevertheless his skin did not have the bronze colouring of the Indian.
His figure and even his walk were more like the white man's. And yet in
every other point the stranger apparently was of the Indian race.
As he drew near Peleg, his face was lighted by a smile as he said, "Me
broder. Me white Shawnee."
Peleg did not respond, although his astonishment was increased by the
speech of the approaching warrior.
"Me wan' go home. No fader. Me Shawnee fader. Me wan' white fader.
White moder dead. White fader dead. No Shawnee fader some more."
The puzzling statements were followed by some words unintelligible to
Peleg, though he concluded that they were spoken in the Shawnee tongue.
"Do you want to see Daniel Boone?" he inquired.
Gesticulating forcefully, the young man inquired, "He me fader?"
"No."
"White fader dead. White moder dead. Shawnee warriors kill me fader.
Kill moder. Many moons ago."
"How many?"
A puzzled expression for a moment appeared on the stranger's face, and
then, comprehending the meaning of the question, he opened and closed
his hands so many times that, although Peleg was unable to count the
number of moons indicated, he concluded that the Shawnee was
approximately of his own age.
"Me live in Shawnee wigwam many moons. Me Shawnee. Me white Shawnee. Me
have Shawnee fader and Shawnee broder," and he held up two fingers to
indicate the number of his brothers.
[Illustration: "One of the men who had been stationed as a guard was
shot early in the morning"]
"What are you doing here? What do you want?" demanded Peleg sharply. He
was mystified by the statements which had been made and was fearful of
some trap or treachery on the part of his visitor or his companions, who
might even then be watching from the nearby forest.
"Me fader, me broder, me go," the visitor replied, pointing to himself.
"All go trap many beaver, many mink, many muskrat," he added, making a
circle with his hand to indicate his inability to count the pelts which
had been taken. "Me broder he wan' go on warpath. He wan' help drive
palefaces out Kantuckee. Me fader he say he go," nodding his head many
times to emphasize his statement. "But one night many owls scream and
cry. He say then no go. Me broder he say go. Me fader say yes."
"Where are they now?"
The young stranger gazed earnestly into the face of his questioner, and
at last, apparently comprehending his question, turned and waved his
hand toward the forest to indicate that the men to whom he had referred
were far away.
"Why are you here? Why do you not go with them?"
"Me wan' see white faces some more. Me wan' find white broder. Me white
Shawnee, where go? Must see paleface wigwam."
For a moment Peleg was silent as he gazed earnestly into the face of the
young man who had so strongly impressed him. He was convinced that he
was indeed white, and he concluded that he must have been adopted by the
Indians many years ago. As a consequence of his association with the
Shawnees, doubtless he had almost forgotten the language of his own
people.
In his statement words unknown to Peleg were spoken, but he had
understood enough to convince him that either the white Shawnee was
speaking the truth, or else was trying to set some trap into which the
defenders of the fort might be drawn.
"Come with me," said the young scout finally. As they turned toward the
fort they met Sam Oliver, who stopped and gazed in surprise at Peleg's
companion, and laughed scornfully when he heard the story of the
stranger.
"You say you and your Shawnee father and brother buried the canoe in
which you came down the river?" demanded the hunter brutally as he
turned upon the visitor.
"Bury canoe."
"Then you take us straight to the place where it is. I know well enough
you are trying to play some sneaking game on us, and if you are, you
will be the first one to suffer for it. If you try to lead us into any
trap, no matter what happens to us, I will put a bullet into you."
"No go," pleaded the young warrior.
"You must go!" retorted Sam Oliver harshly.
Peleg sympathized with the stranger. He understood, he thought, the
desire of the returning white man to shield his foster-father and
brother. The young hunter was now convinced that his visitor had spoken
truthfully.
"Sam," he ventured to suggest, "this young brave was stolen when he was
a little child, and he has lived with his Shawnee father ever since. He
doesn't want to betray him. You cannot blame him for that, can you?"
"There is only one way to deal with the varmints!" retorted Sam hotly.
"You might just as well try to make a pet out of a nest of rattlesnakes
as to try to be friends with an Indian. No, sir! This--whatever he is,
white man, or red man--he must prove what he has said, and the only way
for him to do it is to take us to the place where he pretends that canoe
is buried in the ground."
The brutal manner of the hunter apparently had made a deep impression
upon the stranger. With manifest reluctance he finally consented to
conduct the party to the place where the canoe was buried. It was well
known among the settlers that the Indians, after their voyages on the
river, buried their light canoes to prevent them from being warped by
sun and rain.
"You go where owl cry. Owl scream, me fader--iron----" The stranger
stopped as if he was unable to recollect the word he wished to use,
making motions with his hands to describe what he wished to say.
Peleg suggested, "Was it an iron kettle?"
A vigorous nod from the stranger indicated that was the word he was
trying to recall, and he continued, "Me fader hide iron kettle in hole
in tree. Me show you."
"You wait here," ordered Sam, "while I get two or three more men and we
will soon look up that kettle."
Peleg suspected that the white Shawnee, in order to delay the quest of
the hidden canoe and thereby give his foster-father and brother an
opportunity to escape from the region, had suggested a visit to the tree
where the cry of the owl had alarmed his father.
In a brief time, however, Sam and his companions returned, and the
hunter roughly ordered the stranger to lead the way.