FIELD OF THE FALLEN TIMBERS.
We return to other characters of our romance in order to glance at their
adventures from our last dealings with them up to the night before the
great fight for supremacy on the shores of the Maumee.
We left Kate Merriweather returning to her kindred with Harvey Catlett
and her lover after her rescue in the cabin of James Girty.
The restoration was effected without incident worthy of record, and the
girl at last found herself in her mother's arms.
The journey was then resumed, and the entire party, with the exception
of Little Moccasin, who mysteriously returned to the forest, reached Mad
Anthony's camp.
It may well be believed that Abel Merriweather breathed free again when
he found his little family behind the bayonets of the American army, and
he hastened to enroll himself among the ranks of bordermen led by Wells
and the Choctaw chief Hummingbird.
In this legion were also found Oscar Parton, George Darling, and little,
but fearless Carl Merriweather. Harvey Catlett was unattached, and Wolf
Cap given the liberty of the field.
Around and upon the Hill of Presqu'-Isle the Indian forces had posted
themselves, having their left secured by the river, and their front by a
kind of breastwork of fallen timbers which rendered it impracticable for
cavalry to advance. It was a position admirably chosen, but useless, as
history tells.
Impatiently the allied tribes awaited the American army. The chiefs,
with few exceptions, were confident, for had they not beaten Harmar and
St. Clair?
The Girtys had not shirked the battle, but there was a restlessness
about Simon's movements that attracted attention. James, on the
contrary, was firm and boastful. Wherever he went he encouraged the
Indians to stand firm, promising them victory and its tempting spoils.
But there were keen eyes fixed upon him.
In the scarlet ranks were many who carried a long scar on their
breasts--the mark of the brotherhood to whom Parquatin's blood cried for
vengeance.
In two splendid columns, with trailed arms, Wayne's army advanced upon
the savages. A terrible fire greeted the onslaught, and the General soon
discovered that the enemy were in full force and endeavoring, with some
show of success, to turn his left flank. Then came the tug of war, and
for hours the carnival of battle raged among the fallen timbers and
around the base of the hill.
"At last! look Harvey!"
Wolf Cap pointed through an opening, and Harvey Catlett, the spy, saw
the sight to which his attention was called.
There, in a little space made by the death of a forest tree, stood a man
whose face was begrimed with powder. His half savage uniform was torn
and blackened by the battle, and he seemed debating whether to fly or
plunge again into the fight.
"It is he!" said the young spy, looking up into Wolf Cap's face. "It is
Jim Girty."
"The man who darkened all my life!" was the hissed reply. "For years I
have hunted him. Now he is mine!"
Quick to the speaker's shoulder leaped the deadly rifle, and his cheek
dropped upon the stock for aim.
Harvey Catlett watched the renegade, unconscious of his swiftly
approaching doom.
All at once James Girty bounded into the air, and with a death cry that
sounded above the roar of battle, fell on his face, and stretched his
brawny arms in the agony of death.
Wolf Cap lowered his rifle and wheeled upon the spy.
"Did you shoot?" he cried.
"No."
"Then who did? Some one has cheated me of my revenge!"
As he spoke, he glanced to the right and saw a young Indian reloading
his rifle.
"It is Parquatoc!" said Harvey Catlett.
With a maddened cry the tall hunter sprang forward; but the Seneca youth
eluded him, and disappeared in the twinkling of an eye.
"Come! The battle rolls towards the British fort!" the young spy said,
rousing Wolf Cap, who had relapsed into one of his singular reveries.
"Yes, yes; we will go. But let us see whether he is dead."
The twain hurried to the spot where James Girty had fallen. Wolf Cap
turned him over, and saw the eyes start at sight of him.
"The butcherer still lives!" the trailer said, as his hand grasped the
handle of his tomahawk. "Harvey, I can yet revenge the murdered ones."
But the youth's hand fell restrainingly on Wolf Cap's arm.
"No. He is dying, Abner. Let us keep our hands in this hour. Get down
and hear what he says."
The two knelt beside the dreaded scourge of the Northwest, powerless now
to harm a babe. Words were falling from his lips, and his eyes remained
fixed upon Abner Stark.
"They did it!" he said. "It was a redskin's bullet, and Parquatoc's. No
more battles for Jim Girty. Listen, Abner Stark, for I know you. You
have hunted me a long time, to find me dying. Where is the girl?"
Wolf Cap started, and glanced at the spy.
"He talks about some girl, Harvey."
"Is the girl here?" asked the outlaw in a louder voice. "No? Must I die
without seeing her? Well, let it be so. Abner Stark, when she comes,
take her in your arms and call her your child, for such she is. I saved
her from Indian fury that night, and I have tried to be good to her, bad
as I am. I thought I would never tell you this."
"This is all true, Girty?" cried Stark, scarcely able to credit the
revelation.
"On the word of the dying, Abner Stark. Why should I lie now?"
Then Wolf Cap raised his eyes towards heaven, and poured out the
gratitude of a father's soul.
When he looked again at the prostrate outlaw, it was to say:
"I am glad I did not shoot you."
Girty smiled, and tried to speak; but the effort proved a failure, and
the head fell back.
It was all over. The White Whirlwind was dead, and the flowers which his
restless feet had pressed to earth, lifted their heads and smiled.
"Come, Abner!" said Catlett.
The hunter obeyed, but, as he rose, he caught sight of a rapidly
approaching figure, and stood still.
The next moment Little Moccasin came up, and Wolf Cap lifted her from
the ground, and in his embrace covered her face with kisses.
He held her there until the sound of battle died away, and when he
released her, she glided to Harvey Catlett's side and put her hands in
his.
"Areotha is glad, Fair Face," she said, her eyes sparkling with joy.
"The real father is found, and he will be happy until the Manitou sends
for all of us."
There, on the bloody battlefield of the Fallen Timbers, Wolf Cap had
found his child. It was a reunion impossible to describe, but many a
heart beat in unison with the father's in the bivouac that night.
Of course, Little Moccasin left the woods and became Harvey Catlett's
bride, while the backwoods preacher made Oscar Parton and the settler's
daughter one.
Thus, with Wayne's decisive victory over the allied tribes, end the
trails which we have followed through the summer woods of the Maumee.
THE END.
TREED BY A BEAR.
BY EBEN E. REXFORD.
We were gathered around the fire at grandfather's, one winter evening,
cracking butternuts and drinking cider, when one of the boys called out
for a story, and proposed that grandfather should be the one to tell it.
"Yes, do tell us a story; please," spoke up half a dozen voices; "you
haven't told us a story in a long time, grandfather."
"I don't believe I can think of anything new," said grandfather; "I told
you all my stories a long time ago."
"Tell us the one about your being treed by a bear," suggested the
prospective hunter of the party; "you haven't told that to all of us."
"Oh, yes, tell us that one," cried the children in chorus, and
grandfather began:
"When your grandmother and I moved into the country, it didn't look much
as it does now. There were no clearings of more than three or four acres
in extent, and the settlers were scattered here and there through the
woods, two or three miles apart. I came on before your grandmother did,
and put up a rough shanty of logs, with a bark roof, and a floor of
split pieces of basswood. You may be sure of one thing, children, and
that is, we didn't have things very nice and handy in those days; but we
were just beginning, and we had to do the best we could, and what we
couldn't help we had to put up with.
"I built a little stable for our cow, which I left with your grandmother
in the settlement where you find a city to-day, until I got ready to
move my family and all my earthly possessions into the woods where I was
making my new home. I cleared off a little patch of ground and got it
ready for a garden, and then went after your grandmother and our
household goods.
"It was a two days' drive to this place from the settlement then. I
hired a man to bring your grandmother and our things, while I drove old
Brindle. I shall never forget our first few days in our new home. We
couldn't get used to it for some reason. Everything was so rough, and
clumsy and awkward, I suppose.
"Your grandmother got homesick, and didn't want me to leave her alone a
minute. She was afraid of bears and Indians, and she remembered all the
fearful stories she had ever heard or read, of the terrible things that
happened to settlers in the backwoods.
"As I was busy at work in clearing up a piece of ground round the
shanty, I didn't have to leave her alone except when I went after old
Brindle nights. The feed in the woods was so plenty that the old cow
didn't care whether she came home or not, and I had to lock her up every
night as regular as night came. Sometimes I found her close by home, and
sometimes two or three miles off. She wore a little bell which I could
hear some distance off from where she was, and it wasn't very hard work
to find her.
"I almost always took my gun with me when I went after the old cow, and
hardly ever missed bringing home a partridge or a squirrel, which your
grandmother would cook for our dinner next day. We had plenty of game in
those days, and it was splendid hunting any where you took a notion to
go. The woods were full of deer and all kinds of fowl, and so far as
that kind of food was concerned, we lived on the fat of the land.
"One night, after we had been here about a month, I started to hunt up
the cow, and forgot my gun until I had got so far that I concluded I
wouldn't go back after it. I went on through the woods in the direction
I had seen old Brindle go in the morning when I let her out of the
stable, but I could hear no bell. I wandered round and round through the
woods until it got to be quite dark. I must have got 'turned round,' as
we used to say in those days when we got bewildered, and couldn't tell
which way was north or south, for when I gave up hunting for the cow and
concluded to go home I didn't know which way to go.
"However, I started in the direction I thought most likely led towards
home. I had been going straight ahead, as I supposed, for ten or fifteen
minutes, when I heard something coming toward me with a heavy tread, and
pretty soon I heard a growl. Then I knew what it was. I had never seen a
bear in the woods, and I had no idea about what sort of fellows they
were to meet.
"If I had had my gun along I should have stood my ground, but without
any kind of weapon I thought it best to look out for any possible
danger, and made for a tree which stood near me. I was a good climber,
and in a minute I was stowed away safely in the branches. But I had
hardly reached my position when the bear came running up to the tree,
and began walking round and round it, stopping every few seconds to
raise himself up on his hind feet and take a look at me, or else
stretching up against the tree as far as he could reach, as if he
hesitated climbing up after me.
"I had a jack-knife with me, and I cut off a limb, which I trimmed into
something like a club, to defend myself with if he concluded to come up
and make a visit. Whenever he showed a desire to do so, by reaching up
his great black paws and tearing away at the bark with his claws, I
pounded my club against the body of the tree as far down as I could
reach toward him, and that frightened him enough to keep him from
climbing.
"But I couldn't frighten him away. He kept walking round and round the
tree growling and whining very much like a dog, and I made up my mind
that he had concluded to wait for me to come down. But I had no notion
of doing that yet a while.
"Two or three hours went by. I wondered what your grandmother would
think had happened to me. I knew she would be frightened almost to
death, and that worried me, but I saw no way of getting out of the
difficulty I had got into, and concluded I should have to spend the
night in the tree.
"By and by the moon came up. I could see him distinctly then, as he kept
up his march around me. He was an enormous fellow, and a man would have
stood but little chance for his life with him unless he had been well
armed.
"Well, he kept watch of me all night. He got tired of walking, by and
by, and laid down close to the tree. Whenever I stirred, he would rouse
up and resume his walk. Neither of us slept. You may be sure it was a
long night to me. I couldn't help thinking of your poor grandmother, and
wondering what she was doing.
"At last morning came. I thought the bear would be sure to take his
departure then, but he evidently had made up his mind to see the thing
out, for he made no effort to leave.
"It must have been about seven o'clock when I heard some one hallooing
not far off, and, peering through the branches, I saw your grandmother,
with my gun on her shoulder. She had started out to look for me. I saw
that the bear had not discovered her, and I shouted:
"'Don't come any nearer, Susan. I'm up the hickory tree, and there's a
big bear at the foot of it. If he sees you there'll be trouble. You'd
better go back to the house, and I'll come as soon as I can.'
"I saw her stop and look toward us very earnestly, and I knew she was
thinking whether she could help me out of my difficulty. Pretty soon I
saw her rest the gun over a little sapling and take sight at the bear,
who had squatted down a few feet from the foot of the tree, and sat
there looking up at me as if he was trying to make out what I was
shouting so for.
"I was just going to tell your grandmother not to shoot, for I never
once supposed she could hit the animal, when, bang! went the gun, and
the bear gave a growl and a leap into the air, where he spun around like
a top, and then dropped flat on the ground, and never stirred but once
or twice afterward.
"'You've killed him!' I shouted, and slid down from my rather
uncomfortable quarters, just as your grandmother came running up, pale
as a ghost, and almost frightened at what she had dared to do. The
minute she realized there was no danger, she drooped into my arms, and
began to cry.
"We cut up the bear and took most of it to the house. It kept us in meat
for a long time, and we used the skin for a carpet. I didn't forget my
gun after that when I went after old Brindle, you may be quite sure.
"Your grandmother had never fired off a gun before, but when she found
out that they weren't such terrible things after all as she had supposed
they must be, she practiced with my rifle until she could shoot as well
as I could, and after that she used to keep us in partridge and such
game, while I cleared off land for crops. That first shot of hers was
the best one she ever made, however."
"And so grandmother really killed a bear!" cried the children, and
straightway the pleasant-faced, smiling grandmother became a heroine in
their estimation, as they thought over the story grandfather had told.
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Transcriber's Note
Spelling errors include:
Page 4, "Shawness" changed to "Shawnees".
Page 6, "stubborness" changed to "stubbornness".
Page 6, "abrubtly" changed to "abruptly".
Page 7, "does'nt" changed to "doesn't" twice.
Page 7, "did'nt" changed to "didn't" twice.
Page 7, "was'nt" changed to "wasn't".
Page 8, "was'nt" changed to "wasn't".
Page 9, "harrangue" changed to "harangue".
Page 10, "beligerent" changed to "belligerent".
Page 10, "dispises" changed to "despises".
Page 10, "particpants" changed to "participants".
Page 10, "Parqatin" changed to "Parquatin" for consistency.
Page 11, "she" changed to "the".
Page 14, "secresy" changed to "secrecy".
Page 15, "abandond" changed to "abandoned".
Page 16, "statue" changed to "stature".
Page 16, "cubboard" changed to "cupboard".
Page 21, "Paquatoc" changed to "Parquatoc" for consistency.
Page 22, "ceasd" changed to "ceased".
Page 24, "saddenly" changed to "suddenly".
Page 27, "Moocasin" changed to "Moccasin".
Page 28, "begrimmed" changed to "begrimed".
Page 28, "appproaching" changed to "approaching".
Page 28, "settlment" changed to "settlement".
Page 32, "Briming" changed to "Brimming".
End of Project Gutenberg's Little Oskaloo, by Thomas Chalmers Harbaugh