THE ABODE OF INDIAN JOHN
THE pursuit of Little Peter and Indian John was not long continued, nor
was a single gun discharged; a fact for which the frightened lad was
unable to account at the time, although on the following morning the
cause for it was made clear.
Wearied though the lad was by his long journey, the shout of Benzeor had
provided an impulse sufficiently strong to compel him to keep up with
his companion, who was running swiftly toward the shelter of the woods
which were not far away.
In a brief time the breathless fugitives gained its shelter, and then
for the first time turned and glanced behind them. The men had turned
back and now could be seen still standing by the roadside, near the
place where Peter and the Indian had started across the lot. What they
were doing could not be discovered; but, without waiting for further
investigations, the flight was at once resumed, and, keeping well
together, the lad and his companion ran swiftly forward, and soon the
distance between them and the pine robbers had been still further
increased.
The sunlight had now departed from the forest, and the dusk had settled
over all. The air was close and oppressive, and Peter's dripping face
betrayed the force of his recent exertions and the excitement under
which he was laboring. Already the night birds had made their
appearance, and here and there among the branches of the lofty trees the
bats could be seen darting about in quest of their evening meal. The
very silence served to increase the feeling of utter loneliness which
swept over the weary, heartbroken lad, and for a moment it almost seemed
to him as if any further efforts on his part were as useless as they
were difficult. Benzeor's anger promised little good for the children
who had been left in his home, and fears for his little brothers and
sisters were mingled in Little Peter's mind with the consciousness of
his own weariness and the thought of his own forlorn condition.
Difficult as the problem doubtless was, he knew he must not give way to
it, and when Indian John indicated in a few moments that the time had
come when they must go on, the lad resolutely again turned to follow
him, although he had not the slightest conception of the plan which was
in his companion's mind.
Carefully they walked on through the increasing gloom, and within a half
hour Little Peter heard the sounds of a running brook in the distance.
He instantly recognized the locality, for many a time had he and Tom in
the springtime followed the course of the "run," as the people of Old
Monmouth called the stream, and the strings of fish which they had
brought home with them had borne ample witness to the success which had
crowned their efforts.
But none of these things were in Little Peter's mind as he followed
Indian John, who had now turned and was proceeding along the bank and
making his way up the stream. As they walked on, the sound of a
waterfall began to be more and more distinctly heard, and soon they came
out into a place from which, in the deepening gloom, the falling waters
could be seen. Into the basin which had been formed by the sharp fall of
the stream, a tall, large tree had fallen years before this time. Its
broken roots had torn up the earth, and now stood like a barrier on the
bank, and Indian John led the way directly toward this spot.
As they approached, Peter discovered a hole in the rocks, but he was not
prepared for the action of his companion; for, without a word, the
Indian dropped upon his hands and knees and crawled into the entrance
and speedily disappeared from sight.
Hesitating only a moment, Little Peter soon followed his companion, and
after crawling along on his hands and knees for a number of yards,
suddenly beheld a large, open space directly before him. Indian John had
provided a light by this time, for he had been willing to follow the
customs of his more civilized neighbors to the extent of making use of
candles, and as Peter arose and glanced about him, he knew at once that
he was in the cave which it was reported was the abode of the red man.
Frequently as the lad had passed the very place into which he had
crawled that night, it had never occurred to him that it was anything
more than a hole in the rocks that formed the bank of the "run," and his
surprise was therefore the greater at the sight before him. The spot was
considerably above the bed of the stream, and consequently was
comparatively dry. Straw and dry leaves lay scattered about over the
floor, and the sheltered place apparently was safe from all approach or
danger.
Indian John at once indicated to his companion that he was to pass the
night there, and the weary lad was glad to accept the invitation, and
soon stretched himself upon the bed of straw. The light of the candle
was extinguished, and the Indian then speedily followed the example of
Peter. The sounds of the running brook came faintly to the ears of the
troubled lad, but that was all he could hear. The darkness was intense,
and for a time the fear of other occupants of various kinds prevented
Peter from sleeping, but at last even that was forgotten in the
dreamless sleep that followed.
When he awoke, Little Peter at first could not determine where he was,
but as the outlines of the cave were seen in the dim light which
penetrated it, the experiences of the preceding day were recalled, and
he quickly arose. Indian John was not in the cave, however, and as the
lad now was aware that the morning had come, he hastily crawled through
the passageway that led to the bank.
As he regained the bank, he saw that his companion was busily engaged in
roasting some birds he had shot. The sight was a welcome one, for Peter
was now aware of the fact that he was decidedly hungry, and, following
his companion's advice, he departed in search of some berries to add to
the morning meal. In the course of a half hour he returned with his hat
well filled, and, after bathing his hands and face in the cool waters of
the brook, prepared at once to join his companion.
For a few minutes neither spoke, but the rapid manner in which the
roasted birds disappeared showed that conversation was not uppermost in
their minds.
At last, when several of the birds had been eaten, and many of the
berries had disappeared, Indian John turned to his companion and said,
"Boy want 'hop-hop' now? Plenty 'hop-hop.' Make um good."
"No, no," replied Peter quickly. "The birds are enough. Where did you
get them, John?"
"Shoot um. Plenty birds; plenty 'hop-hop.'"
"You must have been up early this morning, John. I didn't hear you."
The Indian made no reply and remained silent for several minutes. Then,
turning abruptly and looking keenly at Peter, he said, "What boy do
now?"
"I don't know," replied Little Peter disconsolately.
The words brought him face to face again with the problem that must be
solved. The fresh cool air of the morning, the silence of the forest,
and, above all, the enjoyment of the breakfast which John had provided,
made him at first wish that he might remain there and forget all the
troubles that were so near. But Peter was not a selfish lad, and knew
that the motherless children must be provided for.
"I was going to Benzeor's," he said after a time, "but I don't know what
to do now. I can't understand what he meant by coming back here in broad
daylight after what has happened. He knows that I know all about it, and
that was the reason why he wanted to catch me last night. I can't go up
to his house now, and yet I don't dare leave the children there,
either."
"Boy go," said Indian John quietly.
"But I can't go, John. How can I? There were four men with Benzeor, and
you heard what he said. It wouldn't be safe for me to go there now. I
don't know what to do."
"Boy go; Benzeor no there."
"Benzeor not there? How do you know? What makes you think that, John?"
"John been there."
"When? This morning?"
The Indian nodded his head, and then said, "Man no there. Girl there.
Two, t'ree little Peters there. Boy go. All safe."
"You don't mean it?" said Peter eagerly, and standing erect as he spoke.
"Come on, then, John; we'll start this minute."
"Boy go; Indian no go."
"Why not? I thought you were going with me."
"John no go. John no home, no papoose, no notin'. All white man now. All
gone. Indian no stay. Boy go."
"All right, John; I won't urge you. But if you're right, and Benzeor
isn't at home, you needn't be afraid."
The Indian's eyes snapped at the words, but he made no reply, and Little
Peter was too eager to start now to realize the force of his own words.
As he departed, he saw his recent companion standing on the bank of the
brook in an attitude as if he were listening to sounds far off in the
forest. Perhaps if the lad had realized that it was the last time he
would ever behold the face of Indian John, he would have lingered
longer; but, as it was, his desire to go to Benzeor's house and learn of
the present condition of the children banished all other thoughts from
his mind, and in a few moments he had started toward the road.
He retraced his way across the open lot, and as he came within sight of
the road he suddenly stopped, as he saw a mounted man there. Apparently
the man was alone, and what was strange was the fact that he apparently
was not moving.
Little Peter waited several minutes, but as the man still retained his
position, and no one joined him, he resolved to proceed. Approaching
cautiously, and ready to run at the first appearance of danger, his
surprise was increased as he beheld the strange manner in which the
horseman was seated on his beast. Instead of sitting with his face
toward the head of his steed, his position was exactly reversed, and to
all appearances he either was going in a direction opposite to that of
his horse or else was riding backward.
Puzzled to account for the strange attitude, Peter also noticed as he
approached that the beast on which the man was mounted was a mule and
had stopped in the middle of the road. In a moment he recognized the man
as Ted Wilson, and with a shout he ran forward.
"Why, my lad, what are you doing here?" exclaimed Ted, as he beheld the
approaching boy.
"It's more to the point to ask what you are doing here. What are you
sitting on that mule that way for? What have you stopped for? Why don't
you go ahead?"
"There are several good reasons," replied Ted blandly. "In the first
place, if the mule won't go, I can't go. Then, if he stops, I have to
stop, too. As to the reason for my being here, why, I'm looking for
Benzeor."
"I don't know where you expect to find him," laughed Peter--forgetting
his own anxiety for the moment in the ludicrous sight before him.
"Well, I got to thinking of it yesterday after you left me; and when I'd
taken Sallie and the babies up to the captain's,--Sallie's my wife, ye
know,--I jest made up my mind as how I'd got to look after Benzeor afore
he did any more damage. Goin' around the country hangin' Sallies! The
rascal! Old Monmouth never'll be safe till Benzeor Osburn has been
'tended to. And if I'm not the man to do it, I don't know who is. So
Jeshurun and I decided to start out last night, and we've been travelin'
ever since."
"Jeshurun? I don't see anybody with you," said Peter, glancing quickly
about him as he spoke.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Ted. "Ye're lookin' too far afield, young man. This
here fellow's Jeshurun. Whoa, Jesh! Whoa!" he suddenly added, as the
mule darted to one side and turned several circles in the road before
his rider could stop him.
"Yes, sir; this is Jeshurun, and a more onery little beast never lived.
I told ye about him yesterday, and how he'd suddenly take it into his
head to go backwards for a bit. That's the reason I ride him this way
part of the time. He thinks I want to go the other way, ye see, and
that's how I come it over him by jest sittin' the wrong way, too.
Besides, a good twist of his tail is worth more than a bridle sometimes.
Instead of controllin' him with a bridle, as any decent beast would be
glad to have me do, I just have to steer him by twistin' his tail,
same's I use the rudder in my boat, ye see. Whoa there, Jesh! Whoa
there! What's the matter with ye, anyhow? Whoa! Whoa!"
These last remarks of Ted were caused by a sudden movement on the part
of Jeshurun, whose heels were thrown into the air, while with his teeth
he almost literally bit the dust. The mule was small and the feet of his
rider almost touched the ground, and the antics of the pair caused Peter
to laugh aloud.
"Where did you get that name for him?" he inquired when quiet was
restored.
"Oh, it came to him jest natural like. Two years ago when I bought him,
and was a-leadin' him home, I got him into the yard and then he just
began to make his heels fly like a pair o' drumsticks. It's likely there
was some noise made by him or me, I don't jest know which, and the first
thing I knew, Sallie--she's my wife, ye know--and a whole lot o' folks
came a-runnin' out o' the house to see what all the rumpus was about.
They was havin' meetin' in the house, though I didn't know anything
about that, or I wouldn't have argued with the mule as I was doin', o'
course. Well, sir, if you'd believe it, the parson had been a-preachin'
about somebody in the Old Testament. His text was: 'But Jeshurun waxed
fat and kicked: thou art waxen fat, thou art grown thick, thou art
covered with fatness.' Yes, sir; those were his very words. Well, when
Sallie--she's my wife, ye know--set eyes on this here beast, she said
Jeshurun should be his name, and Jeshurun it's been ever since. Whoa
there! Whoa, I say! What ye up to now?"
Perhaps Jeshurun objected to the story, for he suddenly whirled about
and started swiftly up the road. In vain Ted tried to restrain him, but
after his attempts failed, he turned and shouted, "I'll see you farther
on! Jesh'll get tired o' this."
As Jeshurun and his rider disappeared in a cloud of dust, Little Peter
quickly recovered from his surprise and started briskly after them.