THUNDER FROM AFAR.
Perhaps many of our readers would like to know how Mr. Seth Blanchard
(who was the only man in the Glen not possessed of fighting qualities)
was busying himself all this time.
They doubtless recollect that when, after a desperate effort, the
mill was nearly completed, the settlers placed the upper stone on the
spindle by fastening a hide rope to wooden pins in the edge of the
stone, and then putting a long lever into the bight of the rope.
In a regularly constructed mill, this is done by means of an iron
bale or crane, and an iron screw working in the crane, or by a tackle
attached to the crane. The stone, being lifted from the spindle in this
manner, can be easily swung off by moving the crane, and turned over
in the bale in order to pick the under side. They had used up every
particle of iron in building the mill, and been reduced to the greatest
straits for want of that necessary article.
When, after much labor and contrivance, the stone was safely landed on
the spindle, Mr. Seth said,--
"By the time this stone needs picking, I'll make a bale to take it off
and put it on without an ounce of iron."
Honeywood, who was a blacksmith, laughed at him, and said it was
impossible; to which Mr. Seth replied,--
"A man who has always worked in iron has very little idea of what can
be done with wood."
He was now leisurely at work, redeeming that pledge. Having procured
from the woods a rock-maple tree of suitable shape, he made a crane of
proper size and shape to swing over the stone, hewing the timber to a
proud edge, and working it smooth with adze and plane. In that portion
of the arm that when the crane was set up would come directly over the
centre of the stone, he made a five-inch hole, perfectly smooth and
plumb, and cut a screw-thread on the inside of it with a rude machine
of his own invention.
His next labor was to make a screw to work in this arm; and he made it
from a piece of timber that he had blocked out when the mill was built,
and put away to season.
While thus engaged, Mr. Seth had the company and heartfelt sympathy
of all the children of any size in the Run, and most of their elders,
as there were but very few in the settlement who had ever seen a
screw-thread cut, or even a wooden screw.
When the crane was put in its place, the screw entered in the arm, and
Mr. Seth turned it up and back again, that the spectators might see the
working of it, those who had said, and at the time firmly believed,
that it was impossible for him or any one to make a wooden bale that
would take off a mill-stone, began to change their opinions.
Tony Stewart probably expressed the general sentiment when he
exclaimed, "Zukkers! a man what can do that can do any thing! Can't he,
Sammy?"
With his usual consideration for the wishes of children, Uncle Seth
fastened a two-bushel basket to the screw, and, packing it full of
children, turned up the screw. The mill floor was quite large; and the
children had plenty of fun riding in the basket, and pushing the crane
round by turns.
After waiting till the children had screwed up and swung each other
round on the crane a while, Mr. Seth left the place, telling them they
need not come to the mill any more, as he should not begin on the bale
at present.
The next morning Mr. Seth and his brother Israel ground their axes, and
started for the woods to fell trees for a burn, expecting to find other
neighbors there, and a guard. They had gone but a little way, when Mr.
Seth said,--
"Israel, I sha'n't be able to go, at least this forenoon. See yonder
wind-clouds: there's quite a breeze now; and I've several grists in the
mill that the neighbors want ground. I must go to the mill."
It was soon known in the neighborhood that the mill was going; and
persons were seen approaching it from different directions, some
because they had business there, and some to talk over matters of
common interest with others whom they expected to find there.
Most of them were the older members of the community; the young men
being on the scout that day, or guarding those chopping.
"Neighbors," said McClure, seating himself upon a bag of meal, with his
rifle across his knees, "have you heard the news?"
"Where should we get news, who are a hundred miles from anywhere, and
cut off from all the rest of mankind?" said Proctor.
"I spoke to Honeywood as I came along. He was out on the scout
yesterday: he told me he met Dick Ellison and sixteen men. Dick has
been one of the Black Rifle's men. Dick told him the Indians had
murdered twenty-eight people at Shamakin; that they took their trail,
but couldn't overtake 'em, they had so much start."
"Then they must have been in strong force. I wonder how many Indians
'twould take to kill twenty-eight men like us?"
"'Twould take five hundred, if we had a fort overhead, Proctor; but you
can't judge of their numbers by the people killed: most like, there
wasn't more'n ten or twelve Indians, and the people they killed were
German farmers with some old gun,--the lock too weak to throw the pan
open,--or only a pitchfork to defend themselves with, and skeered ter
death at that, or else they were fort soldiers, that ain't better'n our
children would be, nor half so good, only let 'em have a rest to fire
from."
"What else did Dick say?"
"He said the governor had offered a bounty for sculps. For every Indian
man, or boy over ten years old, one hundred fifty dollars; for every
squaw, or girl over ten, one hundred thirty dollars; for the sculp of
every Indian man, or boy over ten, one hundred thirty dollars; and
for every squaw's or girl's sculp, fifty dollars. Dick reckoned there
wouldn't be many prisoners taken on that lay."
"Of course there wouldn't. What a fool a ranger would be to take an
Indian prisoner, have to feed him and watch night and day, run the risk
of his getting away, or of being killed by him in the night, and have
to carry him perhaps a hundred miles to a government fort to get one
hundred fifty dollars, or one hundred thirty if 'twas a woman, when he
could get one hundred thirty or fifty for their sculp that are nothing
to carry, and could hang fifty on 'em to your belt, and no trouble
'cept to knock 'em on the head, and take the sculp off!"
"Honeywood," continued McClure, "thinks, after hearing this news, we
ought not to wait to get the harvest, but go into the garrison right
off. He says, and it's a fact, that McDonald and his family were all
murdered last year, just by staying out one day too long."
"Did he say where the Black Rifle was?" asked Armstrong.
"At his cave in the mountain: he's going ter stop there quite a while."
"Then we sha'n't be troubled with Indians as long as he's round."
"Don't be too sure of that: they've found out that it don't pay to come
as they used to, in small numbers; and now it's said there are from
seventy to a hundred and fifty Indians under one of their chiefs."
"There were five hundred French and Indians at the taking of Fort
Granville. Such a crowd as that wouldn't pay much attention to the
Black Rifle," said Wood.
"We've given them cause enough to dread and hate, and want to wipe
us out. They've driven all the other settlers out of the valley, or
butchered 'em. They know very well that we are planted out here beyond
all help, or hope of it; and I believe our turn'll come to take it
worse than ever before during this harvest time," said Mr. Seth.
"The women," said Proctor, "hate mortally to go into garrison. It
is hot in the block-houses, they have no place to keep their milk,
the children torment them to death, and they're afraid of the
garrison-fever at this time of year. I think, however, 'tis better to
go into the fort than to be listening for the war-whoop, or looking to
see if the fire's not flashing out 'twixt the rafters, all the time you
are harvesting."
"Well, neighbors," said McClure, "all here are agreed about it, and I
have spoken to the others: they think as we do, and we kalkerlate to go
inter the fort day after to-morrow at the outside; and I'm going ter
leave my grist in the mill, then 'twill be here."
Mr. Seth had finished grinding; and they all left the mill to prepare
for the worst, except Proctor, whose turn it was to keep guard that
night. One man was kept on guard at the mill, even when the settlers
were in their own dwellings, to open the gate, and fire the alarm-gun
in case of need.