THE REWARD OF VIGILANCE.
“Have you ever seen what’s inside those saddle bags, Ree?”
John Jerome asked the question when it was certain that Theodore Hatch
was sleeping, and the more comfortably because the property to which
reference was made was clasped under his arm.
“I took a shirt out of the bags, you know, to make bandages. There was
nothing in them that I saw to make him so anxious about them,” Kingdom
answered. “Of course I didn’t see anything in them, nor look for
anything except something to tie up his wounds with.”
“That man at Fort Pitt thought he had gold in the bags, that he kept
them close by him all the time, you remember,” John went on. “Now I
don’t think there is any gold in them, but maybe the other half of that
letter about those hidden valuables is there; that’s what I’ve been
thinking; for don’t you know how at first he would call out for Ichabod
Nesbit and ask if he had the letter, and all that? Yes sir, Mr. Hatch
will be able to tell all about the paper we found in Nesbit’s snuff box,
when he comes to enough and gets strong.”
“You are wrong, John; see if you aren’t. Because if this man has the
other part of the letter, and was looking for Nesbit to get the part he
had, to put the two together, what was that paper that Duff and Dexter
had at the Eagle tavern? Then, too, Duff and Dexter were just such rough
fellows as Nesbit and might have been associated with him. But you can’t
imagine this respectable Quaker and Nesbit having anything to do with
one another, can you?”
Still John would not give in to Ree’s way of thinking, and as the
argument was delaying their work when there was much to be done, the
talk was discontinued.
The short afternoon came to a close before the boys were fully prepared
for evening. Their goods were all unpacked and carried into the cabin,
where they lay in confusion. A great pile of dry wood had been carried
in, and fresh, dry leaves gathered for beds, but no provision had been
made for shelter or protection for the horses, and there were numerous
spots in which the cabin walls needed re-chinking to keep out the wind;
the hot summer sun having baked the mud so dry that in places it had
fallen away from between the logs.
Without a word, when their supper was over, Kingdom, taking a large
blanket, hung it before the fire in such a way that the cabin was made
quite entirely dark.
“What’s that for?” demanded John.
“You’ll see. Now I’m going out, and you close the door after me. With
the blanket before the fire, any one who might be watching will need to
look pretty close to see the door opened and closed. And I’m going to
stay outside all night, keeping in the shadow where I won’t be seen, and
watch the horses and at the same time watch for that slippery Redskin.
If I can capture him, I’m going to do it.”
John started to answer, protesting that Ree must not take the whole
night of guard duty upon himself; but his chum interrupted him:
“We must appear to have gone to bed and be sound asleep, so let the fire
die down early. One of us must be inside to watch Mr. Hatch, anyway, and
you must do that. When my eyes get used to the darkness I can see all
around the clearing, and all I’ll want of you is that you be ready if I
call you. If we are going to be spied upon, we want to know it from the
start.”
Saying no more, Kingdom slipped out of the darkened cabin and to the
darkest side of the building.
Quickly John closed the door, and drew the blanket from in front of the
fireplace. He saw the wisdom of Ree’s plan clearly, and was ready to do
his part. Hard as it was to remain awake when he had planned on a good,
sound sleep, as they were carrying in leaves to make soft beds, he
resolved not to close his eyes. He fixed a snug place in the chimney
corner for the dog, Ring, and then, as the stranger was resting
comfortably, to all appearances, he found a seat on a deerskin on the
floor, and with his back against another, spread over a chest, settled
himself to wait and listen.
As the wind moaned dismally about the cabin and the swish and tinkle of
the water of the river below came to his ears, he thought of Ree outside
in the cold, and remembered how ever ready his chum was to take upon
himself their greatest burdens. Then he recalled the necessity of their
being ever keenly watchful, and admiring Ree the more, as he thought of
their danger, told himself again that he must not shut his eyes. Almost
at the same moment his chin dropped upon his chest, and, completely worn
out, he succumbed to the pleasant warmth, to which he had not lately
been accustomed, and fell sound asleep.
By no means afraid, for he was almost fearless, but considerably worried
by the antics of the Indian, who seemed able to appear and disappear in
a most startling and mysterious manner, whenever he chose to do so,
Kingdom stationed himself in the shadows close to the cabin wall, and
vigilantly watched in all directions. He was protected from the wind,
but the night air was cold and raw, and for want of exercise he became
quite chilled.
From all sides came at intervals the discordant howls and screams of the
beasts of the forest. The melancholy dirges of the wind among the trees
added to the general gloom. Still Kingdom courageously remained at his
post, though as the hours dragged by, and even the horses, grazing a few
yards from the cabin door, were undisturbed, he felt that his labor was
lost.
Remembering, however, that the whole object of his having undertaken
this plan of vigilance was to find out whether Indians or other foes
were spying upon himself and John, and knowing that unless he watched
all night he would not know positively whether prowlers had been about,
the lad straightened himself up and with renewed determination put
behind him a great temptation to go in and lie down, and turn Ring out
to keep guard until morning. Still he saw no sign of any known or
unknown enemy and his interest in his self-imposed task was beginning to
wane again, when a sound of footfalls in the leaves at the edge of the
forest, to the left of the cabin, came to him.
Grasping his rifle closer, Ree strained both ears and eyes to detect the
coming of—he was sure it could be no one else than the Indian who had
been following upon their trail. In another second there came out of the
woods two figures, carrying a canoe between them.
Ree could not at once make out whether they were Indians or white men in
rough frontier dress. Their burden seemed heavy, and as they came
nearer, heading toward a low place in the bank beside the river, he
observed that the canoe was well filled, which accounted for its seeming
to weigh a great deal. At the same time he discovered that the two men
were Indians. What were they doing? Why were they traveling by night, in
this manner?
Unseen by the Redskins, Ree watched them narrowly. They had approached
to within one hundred yards of him to reach the river just at the foot
of the steep slope leading down from the cabin, and so avoid going
around a growth of bushes upon the bank, to get to the water.
Even in the dim moonlight the white boy saw them clearly. Suddenly as a
lightning flash, he realized what the savages were doing. He recognized
the canoe they carried. It was his own and John’s—the one which, with
other property that they had been unable to take with them, they had
hidden in a great hollow log a quarter of a mile away, when leaving the
cabin to hurry to Connecticut.
It was more than probable that these two Indians had found the canoe
some time before and had planned to steal it. Their discovery that the
two boys had returned and would soon regain possession of the craft and
their other belongings prompted the Redskins to make haste to carry the
canoe and goods away before this should happen.
Sure that he was correct in thus reasoning, but desirous of making no
hard feelings with the Indians over the matter, Ree adopted a novel
plan. As the savages set their burden down preparatory to the launching
of the canoe, the boy walked quickly toward them.
“How do, friends,” he called. “It’s real kind of you to bring us our
canoe so soon.”
Never were two savages so completely taken by surprise, or more at a
loss to know what to do or say. There was such kindness in Kingdom’s
tones that they were not sure whether his remark was meant to be
sarcastic or not.
One of the Indians made a leap as though he would run away. The other,
with the savage “Ugh!” uttered in a tone so ridiculously crestfallen
that Kingdom could hardly suppress a laugh, stood still.
Walking quickly up to the Redskin, Kingdom gave him a hearty handshake,
seeing which the other Indian approached, somewhat after the manner of a
small boy who fears punishment, and also shook hands.
Ree would have liked to talk with the Indians and learn the general
situation as to the progress of hostilities in the northwest and the
state of affairs along the frontier, but they were too chagrined to
remain. The two agreed, however, to return at some future time for
presents Kingdom promised them in return for their having carried the
canoe and its heavy load to the cabin.
He recognized them, just before they were leaving, as Beaver Hair and
Long Arrow, Mingoes who had called at the cabin once or twice the
previous winter, and was anxious to make friends of them. This he
undoubtedly succeeded in doing, for the savages knew that had he been
disposed to open fire upon them he could probably have killed them both;
and in their eyes he would have been justified in doing so, having
caught them in the act of stealing.
Long afterward it developed that Beaver Hair and Long Arrow were, as was
true of most Indians, honest; but they had obtained fire water of a
trader near where the Cuyahoga empties into Lake Erie, and were not in
their right senses when, as they were paddling up the river, they
discovered that the boy traders had just returned to the cabin, and
they, having long ago discovered where the canoe was hidden, concealed
themselves to await a favorable time for carrying the property off.
That they were caught in the act they attributed to two things, the
anger of the Great Spirit and the keen scent of Kingdom, whom from that
night they called “White Fox”; for they believed that it was some
powerful sense of smell possessed by Ree which had awakened him and
resulted in their being discovered.
Kingdom watched the two Indians as they disappeared down the river, and
as he walked up the slope to the cabin, looking carefully for any other
visitors, he saw the gray light of another day upon the eastern horizon.
Still he loitered in the darker shadows, but when it was well-nigh
daylight, and all continued quiet, he quietly entered the cabin,
thinking to get some rest.
Fast asleep, just as he had settled himself down to wait and watch, his
back against a skin-covered chest, Ree found John, and smiled as he
immediately guessed that his chum had set out to remain awake all night,
and resolved to have some fun. Thin ice had formed on a shallow puddle
of water at the foot of the hill, and securing a small piece Ree placed
it on John’s bare head. For a few seconds the sleeper did not stir, but
just as the cold was penetrating to the scalp and John moved uneasily,
Ree spoke in deep, unnatural tones:
“Injun get scalp heap quick! Heap nice scalp!”
With a yell, John leaped to his feet, his hands flying to his head only
to encounter his wet hair.
Ree had leaped into a corner where he was not immediately seen, while
John, his senses not yet collected, but bewildered and really alarmed,
seized his rifle and sprang to a loop hole. In another moment, however,
he heard his friend’s laughter. Then he guessed what had happened; but
he did not look around. Still staring out of the loop hole, he said in
the most ordinary tone:
“Looks as though it would be a nice day, Ree.”
“It was quite a chilly night,” Kingdom answered in the same manner,
stirring the coals of the fire, and getting down on his knees to blow
them.
And not once that day was the joke referred to. Afterward John said that
the first impression he had as he felt the ice on his head was that his
hair was on fire.
John was much surprised but equally pleased as he learned of Ree’s
adventure of the night, and could not wait until after breakfast to run
down to the foot of the slope to inspect the canoe. He found that it was
only a little warped by reason of having been out of the water all
summer, and the kettle and other articles they had left with it, were
also in good condition.
Awakened from his long sleep at last, but still keeping his precious
saddle bags under one arm, Theodore Hatch was telling Ree that he felt
much improved, as John returned to the cabin.
Indeed, the mysterious stranger was looking vastly better than at any
time yet, and when breakfast was ready, ate quite heartily, propped up
on the rude bed he occupied. He inquired about his mare, Phœbe, before
he asked anything else, and that led to the telling of the whole story
of how he had been found and cared for by the boys. With much feeling
the Quaker expressed his gratitude.
“I was traveling into the wilderness unarmed,” he said. “I am a man of
peace, as are all those of our faith. I have met hostile Indians at
different times, but when they saw who and what I was, they made no
movement toward molesting me. I cannot understand why I was attacked,
but it must have been because of the failing light, and my assailant,
whoever he was, may not have seen rightly. It was just at evening as I
prepared to spend the night beside a little thicket. I saw no one, but
heard a shot and fell with the wound in my side. I was still conscious
as a young Indian ran up to me and beat me on the head with his hatchet.
Then I knew no more.”
As he spoke, Theodore Hatch put up his hand to feel his injured head. A
look of horror and mental anguish came to his face.
“Was I scalped?” he gasped.
John was almost ready to laugh over the Quaker’s despairing tone, but
kept a straight face, and Ree in answer to the question soberly nodded.
“The poor, deluded sinner,” groaned the stranger. “I have forgiven mine
enemies always—always. I must—I will—aye, I do, truly forgive him. He
did not know I was a man of peace. Oh, why did I come into these
forests?”
“Well, why did you, sir?” asked John Jerome, quite respectfully, but
brimming over with curiosity, as he remembered the Quaker’s
embarrassment when the name of Ichabod Nesbit had been mentioned at
Pittsburg. He turned around on his three-legged stool and looked the
older man squarely in the face as he asked the question, but Ree to hide
his embarrassment rose and looked out of a loop hole.
The stranger made no answer, but giving Jerome a startled, searching
look, seemed to hug the saddle bags under his arm the closer.