THE LYCAMAHONING
The sun arose o'er the eastern hills of Lycamahoning, a great disc of
flame, fretted with the great solemn pines and oaks of the hilltops, and
driving before it the opaline radiance of early twilight. Pine needles
lost the sombre hue of night and glistened and gleamed with a richer
emerald where the ever-shifting sunbeams touched and gloried them with
light. Trees of oak and pine, a hundred and fifty feet in height,
enveloped with interlacing branches hill and lowland, except where,
oasis-like, the fields and cabin of some squatter dappled the general
surface of woodland. A few clouds still remained on the western horizon,
dark and threatening, but the day was propitious for fine weather.
Ande and Dick, for the strangers were none other, were aroused by the
first, glancing rays of the sun that penetrated the curtains of their
little window. Flinging aside the curtain drapery, they gazed forth
delighted on the scene. Within a few yards of the house wall rolled the
roaring, yellow flood of the Lycamahoning, a mighty torrent, sweeping
beyond its natural bounds. Tree trunk and brush and what not tossed
hither and thither by its rollicking mood, yet bore ever onward. It was
an ambitious stream, for the banks could not hold it. The turnpike,
beyond the bridge, was hidden three feet from sight, and tearing through
the underbrush on either side of the public way was an ever-widening
torrent. The town was on higher ground than the turnpike beyond and so
escaped the damage of the flood.
"What a grand country, Dick, old chap," said Ande, surveying the scene
with interest. "This is better than hot Louisiana or even the
Mississippi prairies."
"Humph!" yawned Dick; "but not better than Brazil." Then as he ceased
stretching his great arms over his head; "Just think of it, Ande, if we
had not been picked up by that outward bound Brazilian ship, we would
not be independent now. Ah! diamonds and gold! That's the country, lad."
"Softly, softly, Dick," said Ande in a lower tone, "we're not going to
advertise our circumstances. A month or so here, then home to Merrie
England."
"And right glad will I be," said Dick; "but let's down and see what this
settlement in the backwoods is like."
Ande followed by Dick went cautiously down the steep stairway, that
seemed squeezed between the great chimney and the farther wall and led
out at the bottom into the public room. There was no one in the public
room when they entered, and so they wended their way across to the door
and thence out into the street, if street it could be called. The hotel
of Peter Burke was at the head of the main and only street of Burgtown,
and one walking straight from the front door of the hotel would pass
down an avenue, prolific in stumps, midway between two rows of log
houses. Back of the tavern and but a few yards from it rolled and roared
the Lycamahoning, and but a few yards from the north end was the covered
bridge. It thus stood with the homes stretching from it in parallel
lines, like a captain at the head of his soldiers. Several citizens were
abroad already with their axes and were busily felling a forest giant
that, isolated and ostracised with a few others, waved its branches in
the air above the middle of the main thoroughfare of Burgtown. Several
raftsmen with Hugh Lark at their head were standing at the end of the
broad porch gazing over toward the bridge and the rushing yellow flood,
shaking their heads dubiously at it, well knowing that there would be no
rafting either that day or the next. The flood was too high.
There was the sound of cracking and rending of wood from the
thoroughfare, a swishing and snapping of branches, a cry of warning,
then one of terror, and with a resounding blow the mighty, woodland
giant sprawled its full length on the ground. With an exclamation Hugh
Lark leaped into the roadway followed by the other raftsmen and Ande and
Dick. They were soon on the scene. There pinned to the earth under the
heavy tree trunk, unconscious, his brow streaked with blood, was a man,
evidently the chief chopper.
Women from the neighbouring homes were wringing their hands in dismay,
and then from a distant cabin came a woman's scream, a cry full of
anguish, and then a flying form burst the crowd and flung herself down
near the head of the unconscious chopper. With tender hands she mopped
the blood from his forehead and kissed his pale brow again and again,
calling by every endearing name to the unconscious one to answer her.
Hugh Lark wiped the moisture from his eyes, as did many others. Then
with the instinct of the leader of men:
"Run, Jack, and get the rope and tackle and block from the raft. Jim, go
get the heaviest crowbar from the tavern, and the rest of you men get
crowbars. Peter Burke, get to thy tavern as fast as your legs will carry
you and bring a flask of brandy."
"Can nothing be done until the coming of the block and tackle," ventured
Ande. "Is it too heavy for a couple of fellows to lift by main
strength?"
The raft pilot shook his head. "Three men could not lift the butt of
that tree, and more than three couldn't try, without doing more injury
to Tom underneath. I only hope he won't die before the rope comes."
Dick had not said a word, but he now hauled off his coat, and placing
his big arms around the butt end of the fallen tree began to exert his
strength.
"The man is mad," muttered Hugh Lark to one or two bystanders, while
they all looked and wondered.
The blood mounted to his face and forehead, crimsoning his features like
the sunrise of a rainy day, and then the veins stood out like whipcord
upon his brow and arms, but the tree moved not. There was a straining of
the eyes of Old Ironsides until they threatened to burst from their
sockets, a rigidity of the limbs that though motionless yet indicated
that the giant was putting forth every atom of his strength. The
spectators scarcely breathed. Then, even before the people were aware of
it, the tree began to move, silently, slowly, almost imperceptibly, inch
by inch, up from the fallen, injured chopper. There was a suppressed
murmur from the crowd, then Hugh with a bound was beside the injured
man, and with the assistance of Ande quickly and deftly hauled him from
his perilous position. There was a shout from the tavern. The rope and
tackle was coming, but there was no need of them. Then Peter Burke, his
cross eye glaring at the bystanders, and his other fastened upon Hugh
and the succoured one, pushed his rotund, sebaceous body through the
crowd, and with one fat, trembling hand extended to Hugh the brandy. A
swallow of the fiery liquor and the fellow opened his eyes.
"Hurt much, Tom?" asked Hugh and the chopper's wife in almost one
breath.
"Not much. Pretty well shuk up. Yes--pretty well shuk up."
They assisted the fellow to his feet, and then to his cabin home, still
muttering in his dazed fashion: "Pretty well shuk up! Yes--pretty well
shuk up."
Hugh was relieved. It was evident that whatever injuries he had
received, the shock was more than them all, and with rest he would
evidently pull through it.
The clang of a breakfast bell sounded on the morning air, and the
rafters and travellers trooped to the tavern.
The fame of Dick and his companion speedily spread through the
neighbourhood. Dick, according to rough estimates, had lifted a weight
of two hundred stone. Hugh Lark was the most affable of all. Tom, the
injured chopper, had been a lifelong friend, and this aid to a friend in
distress he could not forget.
"Ye'll come down and see my raft," said he after breakfast. "You have
never seen a raft and it'll be interesting to see how it's put together,
and how we manage it with the great oars; and then I have something to
tell you that will be, no doubt, interesting."
Together Hugh and our travellers wended their way around the tavern end,
and down the edge of the stream. They rounded a bend in the stream and
there, riding in the comparatively quiet water of the eddy, was the raft
of the night before. With a bound Hugh was on it, followed by the
others.
"Ye'll notice the way it's put together. First we square the timber
sticks after they are cut to proper lengths, then tumble them into the
water side by side, and bore these holes with the augur three inches
apart. Then we get the stoutest ash or hickory poles, green and strong,
and lay across the top of them midway between the holes, and bind them
to the timber with well seasoned hickory bows and wooden pins. Ah! I see
you are trying the oar." This last to Ande, who swung with his weight
the great oar blade from its fastenings, and shoved it to and fro. "It's
not easy work in a strong flood, and especially in the Rough Water."
"The Rough Water?"
"Aye! That's a section of the stream in the Big Lycamahoning some
fifteen miles from here, where in a course of ten miles the water rushes
with the speed of a race horse. It's most dangerous because of the rocks
and requires a steady head and a ready hand to pilot through. Yet I have
done it many a time and had no accidents. I suppose, with the exception
of old Pegleg, I'm the only pilot that can say as much," and then seeing
the look of inquiry on the faces of his auditors he continued: "Pegleg
is a one-legged pilot who feels as much at home on the bobbing raft as
he does on the land. But," and Hugh looked at his auditors kindly, "I
didn't fetch ye here for the sake alone of showing the raft. I wanted to
get you away from the prying eyes and ears of old Peter Burke and the
rest. Last night I felt little like saying much about certain knowledge
that I have, but men who have favoured our village by saving the life of
one of its citizens, and one of my best friends at that, deserve
something in return. If you are prospectors, come to my place to-morrow
evening and mayhap I can give ye the information that would be of value
to you. But not a word to any others, and especially to old Peter."
"We'll be on hand, never fear," said Ande.
There was a crashing in the underbrush of the shore, and two or three of
the raftsmen leaped on the raft.
"When do ye think we can safely start, Hugh?" asked one.
"In two days, not before. The flood will take that time to go down to a
good rafting stage. In the meantime, boys, we'll go home; but day after
to-morrow we start out for down stream."
All returned to the tavern where, after some conversation, the raftsmen
betook themselves to their homes and Ande and Dick having mounted their
horses, well rested with the night, pushed down stream, toward the west,
on a rude, half-cleared mountain trail. The road wound itself in a
sinuous line over hills and through deeply wooded glens, but always the
roar of the stream was in their ears.
"What boundless forests these are," said Ande, as they rested their
horses on the summit of a steep declivity and gazed o'er the rolling
mass of treetops. "No wonder Professor Bill was so oratorical. This is
the famous country through which Armstrong marched his troops in 1756
against Shingas and Jacobs, the Shawnese chiefs of Kittanning, and near
this section, no doubt farther south, poor grandfather lost his life. It
was a fatal mistake."
"Perhaps we shall find something in this section that will tell us of
your grandfather."
"If we do, it will be in connection with the Indian eldorado, spoken of
by my father."
They had pushed on rapidly and were now nearing the mouth of the Little
Lycamahoning. The gleam of a great expanse of water between the trees
ahead indicated their approach.
"That must be the Big Lycamahoning of which Lark spoke."
"Hist!" said Dick, "there are some wild geese on the big creek. Hear
them gabble. There must be fully a score. It's fortunate we have our
guns with us."
They were now fairly in the outer shadow of the trees that o'erhung the
trail, and the stream, swollen by the flood to three times its natural
size, stretched before them three hundred yards in width.
"You take the right of the group, and I'll take the left," whispered
Ande.
Simultaneously with the crack of their own guns another sounded from the
midst of the willows that fringed the shore. There was a confused
"Hank--Hank!" from the frightened birds as they rose in flight. A second
later, a light canoe darted swiftly from the willows, and an aged
hunter, its only occupant, gathered up the five or six birds that were
slain, placed them in his canoe, and rapidly paddled up stream. All
happened so quickly that the canoe with its aged occupant shot around a
bend in the stream and disappeared from sight before Ande or his friend
could say a word.
"Cool robbery! let's after him," said Ande, and suiting his action to
the word, he pushed his horse into the stream and swum to the other
side, followed by Dick. The trail was struck again on the other side and
up the stream they went at as fast a gait as the many stumps and fallen
trees would allow. Several times they crossed the stream by swimming
their horses. Two miles up stream the creek valley widened and the
stream, winding around the base of a hill, formed a loop or peninsula of
some fifteen acres or so in extent. Here, in a small, grassy clearing, a
rude cabin of unhewn logs greeted their vision. It was a one-storied
affair pierced with loopholes, and had a small window in the end facing
the stream. The roof of heavy hand-made clapboards, weighted down with
poles, was green with age as also were the mossy logs of its walls. The
door, a heavy affair of split timber, was ajar and near it on a wooden
settle was the figure of the hunter, a man of some seventy years. The
hair of his head and beard were snowy white, but his active frame belied
his years. He was clad in leathern breeches, heavily fringed along the
outer seams, and moccasins of the same tough material. A loose, woollen
wamus, the product of the settlements, served in lieu of shirt and coat.
His coonskin cap was beside him on the bench and he was busily engaged
in plucking the captured birds. The sound of trotting horses aroused him
from his work and he cast a keen, scrutinising, blue eye on the
approaching invaders of his little domain.
"I say, sir, we'd like to know why you appropriated our birds," said
Ande.
"Aye?" inquired the hunter.
Ande repeated the question.
"I shot these birds."
"Well, we shot some too and you seized them all."
"Ye did shoot some?"
"Yes, we did; we were on the road at the fording and fired at them."
The old man gazed at them earnestly, and evidently believing their tale,
said:
"I thought that more were killed with my shot than customary, and if ye
fired at the same time that I did, that explains my not hearing the
report of your guns. Ye are welcome to some of them."
"Oh, no," said Ande, somewhat mollified by the hunter's generosity and
explanation. "We thought you were robbing us, but it was clearly a
mistake."
"Will ye sit down; it's nigh dinner time and, if ye can eat with a lone
old man, you're most welcome. Ye can pasture your horses in that bit of
clearing."
The invitation was accepted. The horses were tethered out where they
could nibble the grass, and they returned.
"Come from afar?" interrogated the old hunter.
"From Louisiana," said Ande.
"Here hunting?"
"No, prospecting."
The old hunter straightened up as if shot, and gazed at them as if he
would pierce them through with those keen, blue orbs of his.
"What for?" suspiciously.
"Metal, either silver or gold," explained Ande, whose suspicions were
also aroused.
"Do ye think ye will find it?"
"Yes, somewhere."
"Where?"
"Along this stream."
"And do ye have any aid to help ye in your search?"
"We have little but our own knowledge."
"And your home is in Louisiana?"
"No, we came from there."
[Illustration: "The old hunter straightened up as if shot, and gazed at
them"]
The old man arose with the birds which he had finished plucking and
cleaning, and was silent for a time while he placed them in a home-made
oven for cooking. Returning to the settle he took up the conversation.
"Ye'll find naught here but woods and hills and coal."
"Have you been here long?" asked Ande, in turn becoming the inquirer.
"Nigh sixteen years."
"How does it happen that you, a hunter, should frequent this section,
which is rapidly becoming civilised?"
"Well, the country is becoming more peopled the last year or so, but
there is still tolerable hunting. There's black bear in plenty, and
there's deer, beaver, coon, and wild birds, and then I have other
reasons. This is nigh the place where my father was slain."
"Your father was a hunter, too, then?"
"Aye, aye, he hunted some. He hunted some," went on the old hunter, more
to himself than his auditors.
"And did Indians kill him?" asked Dick, becoming interested.
"He was captured by Indians and----" The old man shook his head and
then: "Dinner is nigh ready and ye are no doubt as hungry as I am
myself." The trapper led the way into the little cabin. Everything
within was comfortable as the life of the woods could make them. A rough
oak table stood near the opened window, a pile of bear and deerskins in
one corner near the fireplace indicated the place where the aged hunter
took his rest at night, several rifles hung affectionately on the
branches of deer antlers o'er the fireplace, and along the wall ran a
slab bench cut from a split log, the rounded side down, into which was
inserted the legs. The dinner of roast goose was soon placed on the
table and the hungry men sat down and did full justice to the fare. The
old hunter fell into a stage of taciturnity from which he could not be
aroused. Toward the close of the meal the host again became talkative
and pressed his guests, if they stayed long in the neighbourhood, to
call as often as they liked.
"It's a bit lonely for an old man, and I like company at times," said
he, as they were preparing to leave. They promised to come.
The horses were soon untethered and mounting they rode back to Burgtown.
"Dick," said Ande in the privacy of their own room, "I believe that old
fellow could tell us something about father, possibly about grandfather.
I believe he knows at least something about the eldorado."
"He looked most suspicious when you mentioned that we were prospectors."
"His father was a hunter before him, and surely the one or the other
must have met him. We'll see as time goes by. We'll call upon him again
and try to worm some knowledge out of him. To-morrow we'll get
something, I believe, from Hugh Lark, that will bring us close to the
mark at least, I'm a-thinking."