AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.
Jo Stinger had decided to venture out from the block-house, at a time
when the Wyandots were on every side, and when many of them were
within the stockade and close to the building itself It was a perilous
act, but the veteran had what he deemed good grounds for undertaking
it.
In the first place, the darkness had deepened to that extent, within
the last few hours, that he believed he could move about without being
suspected: he was confident indeed that he could stay out as long as
he chose and return in safety.
He still felt chagrined over the audacity of the Wyandots, which came
so near success, and longed to turn the tables upon them.
But Jo Stinger had too much sense to leave the garrison and run into
great peril without the prospect of accomplishing some good thereby.
He knew the Wyandots were completing preparations to burn the
block-house. He believed it would be attempted before morning, and,
if not detected by him, would succeed. He had strong hope that, by
venturing outside, he could learn the nature of the plan against which
it would therefore be possible to make some preparation.
Colonel Preston was not without misgiving when he drew the ponderous
bolts, but he gave no expression to his thoughts. All was blank
darkness, but, when the door was drawn inward, he felt several cold
specks on his hand, from which he knew it was snowing.
The flakes were very fine and few, but they were likely to increase
before morning, by which time the ground might be covered.
"When shall I look for your return?" asked the Colonel, but, to his
surprise, there was no answer. Jo had moved away, and was gone without
exchanging another word with the commandant.
The latter refastened the door at once. He could not but regard the
action of the most valuable man of his garrison as without excuse: at
the same time he reflected that his own title could not have been more
empty, for no one of the three men accepted his orders when they
conflicted with his personal views.
In the meantime Jo Stinger, finding himself on the outside of the
block-house, was in a situation where every sense needed to be on the
alert, and none knew it better than he.
The door which Colonel Preston opened was the front one, being that
which the scout passed through the previous night, and which opened on
the clearing along the river. He was afraid that, if he emerged from
the other entrance, he would step among the Wyandots and be recognized
before he could take his bearings.
But Jo felt that he had entered on an enterprise in which the chances
were against success, and in which he could accomplish nothing except
by the greatest risk to himself. The listening Colonel fancied he
heard the sound of his stealthy footstep, as the hunter moved from the
door of the block-house. He listened a few minutes longer, but all was
still except the soft sifting of the snow against the door, like the
finest particles of sand and dust filtering through the tree-tops.
The Colonel passed to the narrow window at the side and looked out. It
had become like the blackness of darkness, and several of the whirling
snow-flakes struck his face.
"The Wyandots are concocting some mischief, and there's no telling
what shape it will take until it comes. I don't believe Jo will do
anything that will help us."
And with a sigh the speaker climbed the ladder again and told his
friends how rash the pioneer had been.
"I wouldn't have allowed him to go," said Ned Preston.
"There's no stopping him when he has made up his mind to do anything."
"Why didn't you took him by de collar," asked Blossom Brown, "and slam
him down on de floor? Dat's what I'd done, and, if he'd said anyting,
den I'd took him by de heels and banged his head agin de door till
he'd be glad to sot down and behave himself."
"Jo is a skilled frontiersman," said the Colonel, who felt that it was
time he rallied to the defence of the scout; "he has tramped hundreds
of miles with Simon Kenton and Daniel Boone, and, if his gun hadn't
flashed fire one dark night last winter, he would have ended the
career of Simon Girty."
"How was that?"
"Simon Girty and Kenton served together as spies in Dunmore's
expedition in 1774, and up to that time Girty was a good soldier, who
risked much for his country. He was badly used by General Lewis, and
became the greatest scourge we have had on the frontier. I don't
suppose he ever has such an emotion as pity in his breast, and there
is no cruelty that he wouldn't be glad to inflict on the whites. He
and Jo know and hate each other worse than poison. Last winter, Jo
crept into one of the Shawanoe towns one dark night, and when only a
hundred feet away, aimed straight at Girty, who sat on a log, smoking
his pipe, and talking to several warriors. Jo was so angered when his
gun flashed in the pan, that he threw it upon the ground and barely
saved himself by dashing out of the camp at the top of his speed. Jo
has been in a great many perilous situations," added Colonel Preston,
"and he can tell of many a thrilling encounter in the depths of the
silent forest and on the banks of the lonely streams, where no other
human eyes saw him and his foe."
"No doubt of all that," replied Ned, who knew that he was speaking the
sentiments of his uncle, "but it seems to me he is running a great
deal more risk than he ought to."
"I agree with you, but we have been greatly favored so far, and we
will continue to hope for the best."
The long spell of quiet which had followed the attempt to fire the
block-house, permitted the children to sleep, and their mother, upon
the urgency of her husband, had lain down beside them and was sinking
into a refreshing slumber.
Megill and Turner kept their places at the loopholes, watching for the
signs of danger with as vigilant interest as though it was the first
hour of the alarm. They were inclined to commend the course of Jo
Stinger, despite the great peril involved.
The Wyandots, beyond question, were perfecting some scheme of attack,
which most likely could be foiled only by previous knowledge on the
part of the garrison. The profound darkness and the skill of the
hunter would enable him to do all that could be done by any one, under
the circumstances.
There came seconds, and sometimes minutes, when no one spoke, and the
silence within the block-house was so profound that the faint sifting
of the snow on the roof was heard. Then an eddy of wind would whirl
some of the sand-like particles through the loopholes into the eyes
and faces of those who were peering out. Men and boys gathered their
blankets closer about their shoulders, and set their muskets down
beside them, where they could be caught up the instant needed, while
they carefully warmed their benumbed fingers by rubbing and striking
the palms together.
All senses were concentrated in the one of listening, for no other
faculty was of avail at such a time. Nerves were strung to the highest
point, because there was not one who did not feel certain they were on
the eve of events which were to decide the fate of the little company
huddled together in Fort Bridgman.
This stillness was at its profoundest depth, the soft rustling of the
snowflakes seemed to have ceased, and not a whisper was on the lips of
one of the garrison, when there suddenly rang out on the night a
shriek like that of some strong man caught in the crush of death. It
was so piercing that it seemed almost to sound from the center of the
room, and certainly must have been very close to the block-house
itself.
"That was the voice of Jo!" said Colonel Preston, in a terrified
undertone, after a minute's silence; "he has met his fate."
"You are mistaken," Megill hastened to say; "I have been with Jo too
often, and I know his voice too well to be deceived."
"It sounded marvelously like his."
"It did not to me, though it may have been so to you."
"If it was not Jo, then it must have been one of the Wyandots."
"That follows, as a matter of course; in spite of all of Jo's care, he
has run against one of their men, or one of them has run against him.
The only way to settle it then was in the hurricane order, and Jo has
done it that promptly that the other has just had time to work in a
first-class yell like that."
"I'm greatly relieved to hear you take such a view," said Colonel
Preston, who, like the rest, was most agreeably disappointed to hear
Megill speak so confidently, his brother-in-law adding his testimony
to the same effect.
"Directly after that shriek," said Turner, "I'm sure there was the
tramping of feet, as if some one was running very fast: it passed
under the stockade and out toward the well."
"I heard the footsteps too," added Ned Preston.
"So did I," chimed in Blossom Brown, feeling it his duty to say
something to help the others along; "but I'm suah dat de footsteps dat
I heerd war on de roof. Some onrespectful Wyamdot hab crawled up dar,
and I bet am lookin' down de chimbley dis minute."
"It seems to me," observed Ned to his uncle, "that Jo will want to
come back pretty soon."
"I think so too," replied his uncle, "I will go down-stairs and wait
for him."
With these words he descended the rounds of the ladder and moved
softly across the lower floor to the door, where he paused, with his
hands on one of the heavy bars which held the structure in place.
While crossing the room he looked toward the fire-place. Among the
ashes he caught the sullen red of a single point of fire, like the
glowering eye of some ogre, watching him in the darkness.
Beside the huge latch, there were three ponderous pieces of timber
which spanned the inner side of the door, the ends dropping into
massive sockets strong enough to hold the puncheon slabs against
prodigious pressure from the outside.
Colonel Preston carefully lifted the upper one out of place and then
did the same with the lowest. Then he placed his hand on the middle
bar and held his ear close to the jamb, so that he might catch the
first signal from the scout, whose return was due every minute.
The listening ear caught the silken sifting of the particles of snow,
which insinuated themselves into and through the smallest crevices,
and a slight shiver passed through the frame of the pioneer, who had
thrown his blanket off his shoulders so that he might have his arms
free to use the instant it should become necessary.
Colonel Preston had stood thus only a few minutes, when he fancied he
heard some one on the outside. The noise was very slight and much as
if a dog was scratching with his paw. Knowing that wood is a better
conductor of sound than air, he pressed his ear against the door.
To his astonishment he then heard nothing except the snowflakes,
which sounded like the tapping of multitudinous fairies, as they
romped back and forth and up and down the door.
"That's strange," thought he, after listening a few minutes; "there's
something unusual out there, and I don't know whether it is Jo or not.
I'm afraid the poor fellow has been hurt and is afraid to make himself
known."
The words were yet in his mouth, when he caught a faint tapping
outside, as if made by the bill of a bird.
"That's Jo!" he exclaimed, immediately raising the end of the middle
bar from its socket; "he must be hurt, or he is afraid to signal me,
lest he be recognized."
At the moment the fastenings were removed, and Colonel Preston was
about drawing the door inward, he stayed his hand, prompted so to do
by the faintest suspicion that something was amiss.
"Jo! is that you?" he asked in a whisper.
"_Sh! Sh!_"
He caught the warning, almost inaudible as it was, and instantly drew
the door inward six or eight inches.
"Quick, Jo! the way is open!"
Even then a vague suspicion that all was not right led Colonel Preston
to step back a single step, and, though he had no weapons, he clenched
his fist and braced himself for an assault which he did not expect.
The darkness was too complete for him to see anything, while the faint
ember, smouldering in the fire-place, threw no reflection on the
figure of the pioneer, so as to reveal his precise position.
It was a providential instinct that led Colonel Preston to take this
precaution, for as he recoiled some one struck a venomous blow at him
with a knife, under the supposition that he was standing on the same
spot where he stood at the moment the door was opened. Had he been
there, he would have been killed with the suddenness almost of the
lightning stroke.
The pioneer could not see, and he heard nothing except a sudden
expiration of the breath, which accompanied the fierce blow into
vacancy, but he knew like a flash that, instead of Jo, it was a
Wyandot Indian who was in the act of making a rush to open the way for
the other warriors behind him.
The right fist shot forward, with all the power Colonel Preston could
throw into it. He was an athlete and a good boxer. As he struck, he
hurled his body with the fist, so that all the momentum possible went
with it. Fortunately for the pioneer the blow landed on the forehead
of the unprepared warrior, throwing him violently backward against his
comrades, who were in the act of rushing forward to follow in his
wake.
But for them he would have been flung prostrate full a dozen feet
distant.
The instant the blow was delivered, Colonel Preston sprang back,
shoved the door to and caught up the middle bar. At such crises it
seems as if fate throws every obstruction in the way, and his agony
was indescribable, while desperately trying to get the bar in place.
Only a few seconds were occupied in doing so, but those seconds were
frightful ones to him. He was sure the entire war party would swarm
into the block-house, before he could shut them out.
The Indians, who were forced backward by the impetus of the smitten
leader, understood the need of haste. They knew that, unless they
recovered their ground immediately, their golden opportunity was
gone.
Suppressing all outcry, for they had no wish to draw the fire from the
loopholes above, they precipitated themselves against the door, as
though each one was the carved head of a catapult, equal to the task
of bursting through any obstacle in its path.
Thank Heaven! In the very nick of time Colonel Preston got the middle
bar into its socket. This held the door so securely that the other two
were added without trouble, and he then breathed freely.
Drops of cold perspiration stood on his forehead, and he felt so faint
that he groped about for a stool, on which he dropped until he could
recover.