THE FALL OF A HICKORY TREE
After the departure of Ezra Winship and Peter Parsons, affairs at the
log cabin took on a more sober look than ever. Although but little
was said on the subject all felt that the expedition that had been
undertaken was a most serious one. Should the pioneers be led into
ambush by the Indians it might be that not one of them would come back
to tell the tale.
But with so much work to be done, the boys had no time for idle
speculation. They felt the responsibility that had been thrust upon
them, and they determined to do their duty to the best of their ability.
The first work at hand was to gather in what remained of the somewhat
scanty summer harvest. This was comparatively easy work, and the young
pioneers were at it early and late.
During those days they were not without alarms, and on two occasions
left the field to join the others at the fort. But one alarm was
entirely false, and the other made by two drunken red men who were
easily subdued, so there was no serious trouble.
After the last of the vegetables had been brought in and stored away,
and the pease and beans dried, the boys turned their attention to
firewood, and day after day found them at the edge of the clearing,
hewing down the trees which were to keep them warm during the winter,
and were also to help enlarge the fields which in the future were to
produce the best of garden truck, as well as corn and rye.
Each boy was skillful with his ax, and they often wagered between
themselves as to which could bring down a tree first. Sometimes the
girls or Mrs. Parsons would come out to watch them for a brief spell,
but usually these persons had all they could do in and around the
cabin, where they were constantly spinning and weaving, knitting and
sewing, on the various garments necessary for the approaching winter.
One day, when the boys were hard at work cutting down two tall hickory
trees, a messenger rode into Boonesborough with news of the expedition
that had gone forth. At once the lads dropped their axes and ran after
the man to learn what he might have to tell.
“We have not seen the regular body of Indians yet,” said the
messenger. “But we met three redskins on a river about a hundred miles
west of here. Two of ’em were shot down in the fight, and the third
man captured. He didn’t want to talk at first, but later on he thought
better of it, and promised to lead us to Long Knife’s hang-out.”
The messenger had come in to have a wound in the shoulder attended to,
and to obtain two more rifles and some special ammunition. He spent two
days at Boonesborough, and during that time Joe and Harry learned from
him that Mr. Winship and Mr. Parsons were as well as ever, and that
they had great hopes of the ultimate success of the march against the
enemy.
“They are moving rather slowly,” said Joe. “Do you know what I am
inclined to think? That neither father nor the others want to attack
the Indians until they have gone into winter quarters.”
“Well, if they do that, it’s more than likely they will catch the
redskins off their guard,” answered Harry. “As a general thing an
Indian don’t care to fight in the winter.”
It was not until the day following that the two young pioneers went to
work to finish cutting down the two hickory trees. Each was anxious to
have his tree fall first, and each worked away with vigor, making the
broad chips fall in all directions.
“My tree is quivering!” cried Joe presently. “She’ll be down in another
five minutes, and I know it!”
“Mine is coming too!” returned Harry, and worked away with renewed
energy. Although they would not have admitted it, each youth was highly
excited over the prospect of winning the novel race.
Harmony had come to the spring to get a bucket of water, and now,
seeing the tops of the two tall trees quivering, she called Cora and
Mrs. Parsons to come out and see the sight.
“They are coming,” she announced. “And I believe both are coming
together.”
“I believe Harry’s is coming first,” said Cora, after a keen glance at
each shivering tree.
“Boys! boys!” called Mrs. Parsons from the doorway of the cabin. “Be
careful when they come down!”
Neither of the youths heard the warning, for each was chopping away
madly. Then of a sudden a chip flew up and hit Harry in the eye.
“Oh!” he cried. “Oh, I’m hit!”
“Where?” demanded Joe, and looked toward his chum.
At that moment each tree began to come down with a mighty crack and a
crash. Harry, holding his hand to his scratched eye, managed to leap
out of the way of danger. But Joe, looking toward the other tree, was
taken for the moment off his guard.
“Joe! Joe! jump!” screamed Harmony. “The tree is coming down on your
head!”
The young pioneer now realized his danger and tried to leap away as
bidden. But it was too late, and in an instant more he was caught by
one of the tree limbs and pinned to the earth.
All who were looking on gave cries of horror, and even Harry forgot
that one of his eyes had been scratched. He ran toward his chum with
all speed.
“Joe!” he called. “Joe, get up and out of the way before the tree turns
over on you!”
But Joe did not answer, for the reason that he was almost senseless
from the shock. Coming closer, Harry saw that one of the branches of
the hickory lay directly across his throat, pinning him down to the
ground and strangling him!
“Is he--is he dead?” came from Harmony. Her face was ghastly white.
“I--I hope not,” answered Harry. “But he will be soon if I don’t get
him free!”
Joe’s ax lay but a few steps away, and Harry caught it up without
delay. There was a grave peril there between the limbs of the hickory,
for the tree might turn over at any moment, carrying Harry down under
it, but just then Harry gave no thought to this. His one idea was to
save Joe from strangulation.
But if Harry was brave, the girls and Mrs. Parsons were equally so, and
all rushed in to offer what assistance they could. While they held the
limb as far up as possible Harry gave it a blow or two with his sharp
ax and then the branch was bent back until it snapped and broke.
“Now out of the way, all of you!” panted Harry, and caught Joe up in
his arms.
The others leaped away from the tree and Harry followed with his
burden. Then the hickory began to crack and groan, and in half a minute
more it rolled partly over into a slight hollow and lay still.
“Oh!” murmured Harmony, after the tree had stopped moving. “If--if Joe
was under there now he’d be smashed to a--a jelly!” And she covered her
face with her tier, or pinafore.
Harry had not stopped, but was on his way to the spring. Here he laid
Joe down and washed his face with cold water. But it was several
minutes ere Joe gave a gasp and sat up, staring around him.
“Oh, my neck!” were his first words, and then he added innocently:
“Did the tree fall on me?”
“That it did,” answered Mrs. Parsons, who was kneeling beside him.
“Thee can be thankful, Joseph, that thy life has been spared to thee.”
“Some--something feels as if it had--had me by the throat.”
“The tree had you by the throat,” said Harry, and then, while Mrs.
Parsons and the girls attended to Joe, Harry bathed his bruised eye.
Fortunately for both boys neither was hurt much by the double accident,
but Joe felt rather shaky when he got up on his legs.
“I reckon it was a narrow shave,” said he, and added: “Harry, it was
brave of you to jump in and help me.”
“Pooh! you would have done the same for me,” was the light answer.
“I see both the trees are down.”
“Yes, they came down exactly the same time--so Cora says.”
“Then the wager is a tie, Harry. Well, I don’t care, do you?”
“No. After this, I reckon we had best attend to business and leave
matches at tree-cutting alone.”
It was not until the next day that the boys went at the wood-cutting
once more, and they were careful to keep out of danger, and Harry was
especially careful as to where he let his chips fly when chopping.
At the end of two weeks the boys had a large pile of wood stacked
up close to the rear door of the cabin. This was made up mostly of
tree branches chopped and sawed into convenient lengths for the open
fireplace. The large tree-trunks were left where they fell, to be
cut up after the sap was partly out of them and to be hauled to the
dooryard on a sled during the winter, when the ground was covered with
snow.
As long as there was good fishing the boys spent one day a week at this
sport, and always managed to bring in a fine mess. By using the fish
Mrs. Parsons was able to economize with her salt and smoked meats,
which would give them so much more food for the long winter months.
Before long the nights became nipping cold and there was a heavy frost
on the ground in the morning. The frost opened the burs of the nuts in
the woods and the two young pioneers spent two afternoons bringing in
nuts of several varieties, which were spread out on the flooring of the
cabin loft.
During the autumn Harry had located a bee tree, and he was very anxious
to find out what amount of honey it contained.
“Let us go out to-morrow after the honey,” he said, one day.
“I’m willing,” answered Joe. “But we’ll have to be careful, or the bees
will sting us up well.”
“If you go after that honey, you had best tie some netting over your
faces,” said Harmony; and Mrs. Parsons said the same.
The tree was located nearly a mile from the cabin, and the start was
made from home just as the sun was rising. Each of the young pioneers
carried his gun, and also a torch, thick with pitch pine, and the
netting already mentioned.
For some distance their walk took them along the watercourse where
they had brought down the deer, but presently they turned to the left,
and plunged into a thicket where the trees grew tall and straight, and
where the brushwood was of small account.
Boys less accustomed to the wilderness would have become hopelessly
lost in that thicket, but Joe and Harry advanced with the utmost
confidence, for their many outings had made them thoroughly acquainted
with this bit of territory.
“Do you know, I really think the game is beginning to thin out here,”
remarked Harry, as they trudged along. “I haven’t seen even a rabbit
so far.”
“Well, that is not to be wondered at, Harry--with so many of the
settlers out after the game almost every day.”
“It would be a great pity if the game should give out altogether.”
“Oh, that won’t happen for a good many years. As the game grows more
scarce, the old hunters will drift elsewhere for shots, and that will
give the game here a chance to catch up again.”
At last they came in sight of the bee tree, standing in a little
clearing by itself. The tree was not as tall as those around it for
which they were thankful. It was hollow, and near the top flew a few
bees, basking idly in the sunshine.
“Their work for the season is over,” remarked Harry.
“It seems a pity to rob them of their store of honey,” returned Joe.
“But there is no help for it--unless we want to go without.”
“And I don’t want to do that, Joe,” came quickly from Harry, who had a
great liking for sweet things.
Putting down their guns, they brought forth the nettings, and covered
their faces and necks. Then they slipped old mittens on their hands.
“Now for the attack!” cried Joe, and brought out his flint and tinder.
He soon had a light, and with this set fire to the pine torches.
Neither of the boys had ever smoked out bees before, and they went at
it in their own way. At the bottom of the hollow tree was an opening,
and into this they thrust the lighted torches.
“Whoop! Here they come!” cried Joe, and as he spoke a swarm of bees
swept from the upper portion of the hollow. Then came the thick smoke
and more bees--a swarm much larger than they had anticipated.
“They are going to fight for their home!” cried Harry, and he was
right. Having emerged from the smoke the bees swept around and around
the tree in a circle, and then swooped downward upon the two young
pioneers.
“Oh!” came in a yell from Joe, for he was stung in the back of the
neck, where the netting failed to cover him.
“Oh!” answered Harry, stung in the left hand, through a hole in his
mitten. “Get away from me!” he added. “Shoo! shoo!”
But the bees did not want to go away, and in order to fight them off
the boys pulled their torches from the hollow tree and swung them
around their heads.
This soon made a dense smoke outside of the tree, and the bees moved
away, leaving some of the ground burnt by the fire.
“Let us leave one torch in the tree, and defend ourselves with the
other,” said Harry.
This was done, and they continued to wave the single torch around them,
which made the bees keep their distance. The smoke pouring from the top
of the tree brought forth more bees, until they felt fairly certain
that the hive within was now totally deserted.
“The tree is catching fire!” exclaimed Joe presently.
“So it is! That won’t do, Joe! Our honey will be burnt up!” groaned
Harry.
Here was a new difficulty, and, regardless of more stings, Harry leaped
toward the tree again, and pulled away the torch. In the meantime Joe
ran for some water from a stream in that vicinity. This was thrown up
into the hollow by the aid of a cup they carried, producing a denser
smoke than ever.
“Hurrah! the fire is out!” declared Harry, five minutes later. “Oh, but
wouldn’t I have been mad if the honey had been burnt up!” he said.
“That smoke has driven away the last of the bees,” announced Joe, after
a careful look around.
“Don’t be too sure, Joe. My hand burns worse than fire where I was
stung!”
“And how do you suppose my neck feels? I’ve got a lump on it as big as
a walnut. Those bees meant business, I can tell you that.”
“So would you mean business, if you were being smoked out of your home.”
They stood by the tree for quarter of an hour longer, still letting
the smoke ascend. Far overhead they saw the bees circling around and
around, but at last they flew away to the westward, in an almost solid
swarm.
“They are all gone away now, and now we had better get the tree down as
soon as possible,” said Joe.
Each had brought an ax along, and, sticking the smoking torches into
the ground close beside them, they set to work with a will. The tree,
being hollow, fell an easy prey to their blows, and soon it began to
quiver, and then came down in exactly the manner they expected.
“Down at last!” cried Harry. “Now to split it open.”
Their experience at wood-cutting stood them in good stead, and by being
careful they managed to split the tree from end to end without damaging
the honey-combs to any extent.
“Oh, what a fine haul!” came from Harry, as he saw the combs. “How much
do you think is here?”
“Seventy-five or a hundred pounds, Harry. Honey is pretty heavy stuff.”
“We’ll have a task getting it home.”
“Never mind. We got the deer home, and we’ll get this home, too.”
A few bees were now coming back, and again they had a fight, that
lasted the best part of an hour. But then the bees went off, and that
was the last they saw of them.
To get the honey home safely the boys cut a number of withes, and of
these formed a fairly good basket, weaving the affair after the manner
of some Indians they had watched at work on more than one occasion.
This basket was placed on a broad drag, and into it they put the honey.
Some honey, from the broken combs, was lost, but this could not be
helped.
“We should have brought a big kettle,” said Joe. “Next time we will be
wiser.”
“The trouble is, honey-bees are not located every day, Joe. We may not
see another for years.”
Their success at honey gathering made them light of heart, and both
whistled merrily as they hurried back to the cabin. They reached home
shortly after noon, and a shout brought Mrs. Parsons and the girls out
in a hurry to meet them.
“Oh, but this is splendid!” cried Cora. “We’ll have honey all winter!”
“’Tis truly good,” came from Mrs. Parsons. “But there is more here than
we need. We can trade some with the neighbors for other things;” and
this was, later on, done.
With the coming of cold weather rabbit hunting became extra good, and
the boys would often go out in the early morning and bring in enough
for a stew or a pot-pie. Each was now a skillful marksman, and it was
rarely that a shot was wasted. Often they would bring in some other
small animal, as well as partridge and wild turkeys.
During the autumn the inhabitants of Boonesborough organized an
expedition to search the woods around the fort for some signs of the
Indians. But, though many miles of territory were covered, no red men
were brought to view, and it was at last concluded that the Indians had
withdrawn to their winter quarters miles and miles away.
“It’s a good work done if they have,” said Harmony, when she heard the
news. “I declare I never want to see another Indian as long as I live.”
“I’m afraid, Harmony, that wish won’t come true,” said Joe.
“Oh, I know it won’t.”
“I don’t mind the Indians so much--if they would be friendly.”
“I believe as Colonel Boone does,” put in Harry. “A redskin can be
trusted just so far and no further.”
“And how far is that?” asked Cora.
“As far as you can see to watch him.”
It was a week later that the persons living in the log cabin awoke to
find the ground covered with a heavy fall of snow. The snow was still
coming down, but it let up about noon and the sun struggled through the
clouds.
“That settles outside work for a while,” said Joe. “All we can do is to
fix up that sled and haul in those big logs.”
“And go out for more deer, or for a bear,” answered Harry.
“Right you are, Harry. I wish we could get a bear--the skin would make
a good cover for one of the beds.”