SETTLING DOWN AT BOONESBOROUGH
It was with sorrowful hearts that Mr. Winship and Joe accompanied the
party under Colonel Boone back to the fort. Even the presence of Cora,
who had always been the particularly bright member of the family, did
not serve to dispel the gloom caused by the continued absence of Mrs.
Winship.
“I cannot believe that she is dead, father,” said the young pioneer.
“Such a fate would be horrible!”
“I am of the same mind, Joe,” answered Ezra Winship. “Yet Colonel Boone
has had a vast experience with the red men, and he must know what he is
talking about.”
“The best of men make mistakes sometimes,” put in Cora hopefully.
The party moved onward as fast as possible, but with the women and
girls along, as well as the wounded and the goods recovered from the
Indians, it took twice the time to reach the fort as it had to ride
from there to the encampment in the valley.
Those at the fort saw them when yet a long distance away, and Peter
Parsons and Harry rode out to meet the Winships.
“My Clara still missing!” groaned Mr. Parsons. It was like a blow in
the face to him.
“Yes, Peter, and my wife, too,” replied Ezra Winship.
The news that Clara Parsons was still missing was an added shock to the
girl’s mother, and it was several days before the Quakeress recovered
sufficiently to go about her duties.
“She must be dead, just as Colonel Boone says!” moaned the stricken
mother. “Oh, why has this cross fallen upon us? Is it that we have been
so sinful?”
On his part, Harry said but little. But he felt the loss as keenly as
did anybody, for his sister Clara had been his constant companion all
his life, and he loved her dearly.
But every period of mourning and lamenting must have an end, and there
was plenty to do for all hands in Boonesborough.
“I think the best we can do is to get settled down,” said Peter
Parsons. “That will give my wife and the girls something to do and keep
their mind off of this trouble. As soon as we are settled you and I,
friend Winship, and Joe and Harry, too, for that matter, can do our
best to find some trace of your wife and my Clara.”
“But they may be suffering at this moment,” said Ezra Winship.
“I hardly think that. Now that the fight is over, if they have not been
killed, they are most likely living quietly at some Indian village far
away.”
As already mentioned, Peter Parsons had selected two sites for farms
adjoining each other. There was scarcely a choice between the two, and
to be perfectly fair in the matter Mr. Winship insisted upon drawing
lots to decide which should be his and which Peter Parsons’.
It was decided that for the present only one cabin should be built, as
close to the fort as possible, in which the Winships and the Parsons
might dwell together until the following summer. This would keep Mrs.
Parsons and the two Winship girls together while the boys and their
fathers were away from home.
It was no easy task to fell the trees and build such a cabin as was
needed for the united families, but the men and the boys went to work
with a will, and inside of several weeks the cabin was finished in the
rough. It was of logs and was about fifteen feet deep by thirty feet
long. The interior was divided into a living room fifteen feet square,
and opening off of this were two bedrooms of half that size. The living
room boasted of a door front and back and a window, and there was also
a window in each of the sleeping apartments.
No furniture of large size had been brought to this settlement, and
it was consequently necessary to furnish the living room with a table
built of a rough slab and two benches of the wooden-horse variety,
commonly called puncheons. The floor was likewise a puncheon floor,
that, is, made of the halves of a split log, the flat side smoothed
off. In the bedchambers a long low frame was built, running parallel
with the inner wall, and on these the beds were placed, foot to foot,
two in each room.
The chimney of the cabin was rather a large affair, built of rough
stone and such mortar as the settlers could make themselves. It was on
the side of the living room, directly between the two doors opening
into the bedrooms. Above the open fireplace was a shelf and several
hooks for cooking utensils, and in the fireplace itself were several
chains and hooks upon which to hang pots and other things. It may be
added that the settlers had brought with them half a dozen knives and
an equal number of spoons, cups, and plates. Forks were hardly known
in those days, and many of the old pioneers preferred to cut their food
with their hunting knives.
After the woodwork of the cabin was finished, the chinks were carefully
plastered with a clayey mud which soon hardened in the hot weather and
sunshine. In the meantime the women folks set to work to place the
interior in order with such means as were at hand. Not many things had
been brought along, and of these a number were still missing because
of the Indian raid, and at the proper time Mrs. Parsons and the girls
would have all they could do to spin, weave, or knit towels, bed-linen,
and clothing.
The hard work brought with it one blessing. It took the minds of the
workers from their sorrow, and had it not been for that one dark cloud
all of the party would have been very happy.
“It’s an ideal spot for a home,” said Ezra Winship more than once. “I
doubt if a better can be found anywhere.”
“I thought the soil amazingly rich,” answered Peter Parsons, “and the
things that have been planted prove it. Everything is growing nicely.”
In those days a man could live only by what he planted and by what he
hunted and fished, and, although no wheat or corn was sown that season
by the Winships and the Parsons, a small tract of land was cleared and
here the precious seeds of numerous kinds of vegetables were planted,
peas, beans, onions, carrots, parsnips, turnips, as well as squashes,
pumpkins, and the like, and some cuttings of vines which had been
brought along.
One day a week was spent in hunting and fishing, the two boys going out
one week and the two men folks the next.
“I saw the track of a number of deer this morning,” said Harry to Joe,
on a Friday before the Saturday on which the pair were to go out and
try their luck. “I wish we could spot some of ’em to-morrow.”
“Where did you see them, Harry?” questioned Joe with interest, for he
was as anxious to add some venison to the home larder as was his chum.
“Up that little side stream, near the fallen walnut. I was up there
after some sassafras and birch, and I counted at least six tracks
leading from the turn of the brook.”
“We ought to go down early and try our luck with them.”
“Just what I was thinking. We ought to get on the ground before sun-up.”
The boys spoke to their parents about going away early and, receiving
consent, set to work that evening at cleaning and oiling up the two
rifles to be taken along, and also arranging their fishing lines, for
they did not intend to rely upon hunting entirely to fill the household
larder.
It was not yet four o’clock when Joe pinched Harry’s arm and awoke him.
Silently, so as not to awaken the other sleepers, the boys slipped into
their clothing and went into the living room.
Here Mrs. Parsons had left a cold breakfast for them, and this they
swallowed with all speed. Then, with a drink of water to wash down the
food, they took up their weapons and their lines and sallied forth in
the early dawn.
The grass was heavy with dew and the early morning birds were just
beginning to pipe up when they passed out of sight of the cabin and
along the tiny brook Harry had mentioned. They walked with caution and
when they spoke it was in a whisper.
“The wind is just right,” said Harry. “If it was blowing the other way
they’d spot us before we so much as caught a sight of ’em.”
As they drew closer to the spot where Harry had seen the tracks they
moved with increased caution and finally threw themselves down in the
grass and wormed along behind some low bushes and rocks.
When Harry had gained a position he considered just right he halted
and motioned for Joe to do the same. Each examined his rifle to make
certain it was ready for use, and then each set his gaze on a spot
which Harry indicated with his finger to his chum.
A half-hour went by, and there was no sight of a deer or anything else
coming down to the brook. But these young pioneers had learned the
value of patience in hunting, and each remained in his position without
a word of complaint.
Ten minutes more and Joe saw something moving in the bushes just
above the spot his chum had pointed out. It was a beautiful buck with
graceful antlers and a skin that shone finely in the early dawn.
Slowly the buck came down to the water’s edge, raising his head every
few steps, and sniffing the air suspiciously. Behind him came six deer,
all of fair size and all equally timid.
As the game came closer the boys’ hearts began to thump madly within
their bosoms. Never had they seen such a fine collection of deer, and
never had they had a better chance to bring down the game.
“Which will you take?” whispered Joe, when he could remain silent no
longer.
“I’d like to try for the buck, but----” Harry hesitated.
“We’ll have to let him go, Harry. His meat would be as tough as
leather. Take the one next to him, and I’ll take one further back.”
So it was agreed, and resting their long rifles on the rocks in front
of them the two young pioneers took careful aim at the game.
“Ready, Harry?”
“Yes.”
Crack! crack! the two rifles spoke almost as one piece, and as the echo
arose on the air two of the deer were seen to leap and shiver, and then
pitch over on their sides.
“Hurrah! we’ve got ’em both!” shouted Joe, and sprang to his feet.
“Let’s try for another,” answered Harry, and pulling out an old pistol
he had brought along he aimed it at the big buck and fired.
His aim was only partly true, and the buck was struck a glancing blow
in the left foreleg. He slipped down on his knees, but soon arose
again. In the meantime the unshot deer fled to the forest with a speed
that can better be imagined than described.
While Harry was shooting at the buck Joe had started to reload his
rifle. Harry dropped his empty pistol and pulled out his hunting knife,
thinking to rush in and cut the buck’s throat.
“Look out for him, or he’ll gore you!” yelled Joe, and his warning
came none too soon, for just then the buck leaped forward and rushed
at Harry with lowered antlers. The young pioneer knew he could not
withstand such a shock and leaped to one side.
“He has got lots of fight in him yet, even if he is clipped,” panted
Harry, rushing to the top of some rocks. “Look out for him, Joe!”
“I mean to look out,” was the answer, as Joe continued to load with all
possible speed.
The retreat of Harry caused the wounded buck to pause for an instant.
But it was only for an instant; then his gaze turned to Joe, and with a
snort of rage he hopped rather than leaped forward, as if to prod Joe
to death on the spot.