A DOUBLE WARNING
As my old readers know, the cabin of the Morris family was located in a
wide clearing, between a fair-sized creek and a brook flowing into the
larger stream. When we saw it before, it was a long, low but comfortable
building, containing four rooms on the ground floor, and a loft under
the sloping roof which was principally used for the storage of winter
supplies.
During the past summer Mr. Joseph Morris had made an addition to the
cabin by building on at what was the kitchen end. This was now a new
kitchen while the old kitchen had become the general living room. The
old living room, so called, had been divided into two bedrooms, so that
the house was now large enough not alone for the regular family but also
for such occasional visitors as came that way.
The coming of night made all of those at home anxious for the return of
the two young hunters. Feeling that both would be thoroughly hungry,
Mrs. Morris had cooked a liberal supper, of which after waiting an
hour, those in the cabin had eaten their share. The remainder now
simmered in the pot and kettle hung over the big open fire, while Mrs.
Morris moved uneasily about, clearing away the dirty dishes and
occasionally glancing out of the doorway in the direction she fancied
they must come.
"It is strange what is keeping them," she said to the others. "I trust
they haven't gotten into trouble."
"Perhaps they have struck more deer than they bargained for," answered
her husband, who had just entered with a bucket of water from the well.
"Henry said he felt certain he would bag something--and he rarely
deceives himself when it comes to game. Like as not they'll come along
toting all they can carry."
"I wish they'd bring mamma another bear skin," put in little Nell.
"Wouldn't it be beautiful--if it matched the one Mr. Washington let
cousin Dave have?"
"No! no! A bear might harm them!" put in Mrs. Morris hastily. "It's a
bad time of year to tackle such beasts, so I heard Sam Barringford say."
"You let Henry and Dave alone when it comes to any kind of game," came
from Rodney, who sat in his easy chair close to the roaring fire. "Why,
the worst game they could meet wouldn't be half as bad as the Indians
and French they had to face when they went to war. You forget, mother,
what splendid shots both of them are."
But the mother turned away shaking her head doubtfully. Perhaps her
instinct told her what grave trouble was brooding. She looked out of the
doorway once more and spoke to her husband.
"Did James say when he should be back?"
"He couldn't tell, because he didn't know if he could complete his
business right away or if he would have to wait to see certain parties.
Like as not he won't come back until to-morrow, or the day after. He
knew there was no need to hurry. We can't do anything much on the farm
just now."
As even home-made candles were somewhat scarce, the family did without
any light excepting that afforded by the fire in the big-mouthed
chimney, the genial glare of which threw fantastic shadows on the walls.
Little Nell did not particularly fancy those shadows and so asked
permission to climb into Rodney's lap.
"Why of course," said the cripple, and took her up at once. Then she
insisted that he tell a story, "but not about bears, or wolves, or
Indians, but about a fairy and a princess, and a castle full of gold,"
and Rodney did his best to tell the most marvelous story his brain could
invent. But long before the good fairy had given the princess a
beautiful prince for a husband, and the castle full of gold in the
bargain, little Nell was sound asleep, so the story was never finished.
As the night wore on even Mr. Morris began to show his anxiety, and
without saying a word he got down his musket from over the chimney shelf
and brought forth his horn of powder and his little bag of home-made
bullets.
"You are going after them?" asked Mrs. Morris.
"I'll wait a bit longer," he answered. "But I thought I'd be prepared,
in case anything was wrong."
Having put little Nell to bed, Mrs. Morris brought forth her knitting
and for some time only the click-clicking of the polished needles broke
the silence. Then Rodney, who had been sitting with his chin in his
hands, watching the burning logs, roused up.
"I don't suppose there is any use of my staying up," he said. "My back
doesn't feel quite as well as it did yesterday. I'll go to bed," and he
shuffled off to the bedroom he occupied. This was the one nearest to the
kitchen, on the south side, and had been given to the cripple because it
was warmer in the winter than the others.
Left to themselves, the time seemed to drag more heavily than ever to
Mr. and Mrs. Morris. Every thought was centered on their son Henry and
nephew David. What could be keeping the pair?
"They must have met with an accident," said the pioneer at length.
"Perhaps one of them fell in a hole and broke a leg. I know there are
several nasty pitfalls in the vicinity of the salt lick. I guess I had
better go out and look for them."
Joseph Morris was soon ready for the journey, promising, whether he
found them or not, to be back inside of two hours. He went on horseback,
riding Fanny, Dave's favorite mare, the animal that had once been stolen
and so fortunately recovered.
Left to herself, Mrs. Morris knitted faster than ever. But even the
flying needles could not stop her anxiety, and more than once she threw
down the work, to go to the doorway and gaze earnestly in every
direction. How dark and lonely the mighty forest looked. Something
caused her to shiver in spite of herself. She listened intently.
What was that? A sound at a great distance. As it drew closer she made
out the hoof-beats of a horse on a gallop. She ran into the cabin and in
true pioneer fashion armed herself with a musket, ready to consider
every newcomer an enemy until he proved himself a friend. Swiftly the
horse came closer and she now made out a youth hanging heavily over the
animal's neck.
"Dave! is it you?"
"Yes, Aunt Lucy," was the answer. The boy rode up and dropped heavily to
the ground. "Are you all safe?"
"Safe? Of course we are. What has happened? Where is Henry?"
"I don't know where Henry is--just now. I left him in the woods doing
what he could for Mrs. Risley. The Indians surrounded their cabin and
burnt it down, and Mrs. Risley escaped to the milk-house. We rescued her
from her hiding place in the water and got her into the woods. Then I
started for home, but I met Mr. Risley and had to take him back to where
I had left Henry and Mrs. Risley. We couldn't find either of them, and
it looked as if they had had a fight. Mr. Risley remained to investigate
and I came home as quickly as I could to give the alarm. The Indians are
rising all over and are going to massacre everybody they can lay hands
on."
While talking Dave staggered into the kitchen and sank down heavily on a
bench.
"Mercy on us, Dave, you don't really mean it! The Risley cabin burnt
down, and the Indians on the war-path! Why, we'll all be murdered!"
"We shall be unless we take means to defend ourselves, Aunt Lucy. Where
are father and Uncle Joe?"
"Your father has gone to Winchester and won't be back before to-morrow
or next day. Your uncle went off a spell ago to look for you and Henry.
Are the Indians coming this way? Tell me about Henry."
As anxious as she was the good woman saw that her nephew was not only
tired out but also hungry, and as she talked she bustled about and
prepared his meal for him at the corner of the table nearest to the
fire. Dave devoured his supper in short order, telling all he had to
relate at the same time. It is needless to state that Mrs. Morris was
greatly alarmed. The loud talking of the pair aroused Rodney, who called
from the bedroom to know what was wrong, and when told the cripple lost
no time in dressing himself.
"If they come here we'll have to defend ourselves as best we can," said
Rodney. "I can't run but I can shoot pretty straight, and if mother will
load for us I guess we can give 'em some pretty good shots. What we want
to do first of all is to shut all the shutters tight and get in all the
water we can--to drink and to put out fires with. It's lucky father cut
those port-holes in the roof. They'll be just the spots to bring down
Injuns from."
"My boy, you cannot do it!" cried Mrs. Morris, in increased alarm. "Even
if your father gets back what can three do against a horde of redskins?
They will fire the cabin and shoot you down the moment you are driven
out by the flames."
"Well, I don't believe in letting the rascals have our cabin and
belongings," returned Rodney, stubbornly. "I'm only a cripple, but I'm
willing to fight to the last. If we run for it, how much can we take
along? Not much, I can tell you that."
"Yes, but our lives are more precious to us than our things here," said
his mother. "And remember Nell, Rodney. If she fell into the Indians'
hands--" Mrs. Morris did not finish, but her breast heaved and two big
tears started from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
"Well, you wouldn't want to go before father got back, would you?" asked
Rodney, after a pause.
"He is coming now--at least I hear somebody on horseback!" cried Dave.
"Perhaps it's an Indian," and he reached for his gun, which he had
brought in and placed beside the door.
He went out, and Mrs. Morris and Rodney came behind him, each with some
sort of firearm. As the horseman came closer they saw that it was indeed
an Indian. But the white feathers and the general bearing of the new
arrival soon reassured them.
"White Buffalo!" called Dave, and ran to meet the Indian chief who had
been the family's friend for so many years.
"How-how!" returned the Indian, and came straight up to the cabin door.
"Where is my white brother Joseph, and my white brother James?" he
questioned anxiously.
"Father is at Winchester," answered Dave. "Uncle Joseph went off awhile
ago to look for Henry and me. We were out hunting but found out the
Indians are rising. Do you know about that, White Buffalo?"
"So the white boy knows the news already?" White Buffalo's face fell a
little, for he had hoped to be the first to bear intelligence. "Yes, it
is true, they have dug up the war hatchet, and have murdered many people
already. I came to help you, and I bring a message from Captain Tanner."
"And your tribe--will they join those who rise against the English?"
asked Rodney.
For a moment White Buffalo hung his head on his breast. Then with an
effort he straightened up. "Some of the Delawares are fools--they will
not listen to White Buffalo but listen to Skunk Tail and drink the
fire-water the French give them. We have had a pow-wow and some would go
to the French and some to the English. At Big Tree I left eighteen
braves who will follow me and fight for the English. The others have
joined Skunk Tail and Fox Head of the Miamis, and the tribes under
Rolling Thunder and Canshanran, and will fight for themselves and for
the French. They think not of right or of honor, but will burn and
murder and steal all they can. A black day and a black night are coming,
and how it will end only He who rules the Happy Hunting Ground can
tell."