by John Fox
VI
From pioneer habit he awoke before dawn, and for a moment the softnesswhere he lay puzzled him. There was no sound of anybody stirring and hethought he must have waked up in the middle of the night, but he couldsmell the dawn and he started to spring up. But there was nothing to bedone, nothing that he could do. He felt hot and stuffy, though Harry hadput up his windows, and he could not lie there wide awake. He could notgo out in the heavy dew in the gay clothes and fragile shoes he hadtaken off, so he slid into his own buckskin clothes and moccasins andout the still open front door and down the path toward the river.Instinctively he had picked up his rifle, bullet-pouch, and powder-horn.Up the river to the right he could faintly see dark woods, and he madetoward and plunged into them with his eyes on the ground for signs ofgame, but he saw tracks only of coon and skunk and fox, and he gruntedhis disgust and loped ahead for half an hour farther into the heart ofthe woods. An hour later he loped back on his own tracks. The cabinswere awake now, and every pickaninny who saw him showed the whites ofhis eyes in terror and fled back into his house. He came noiselesslybehind a negro woman at the kitchen-door and threw three squirrels onthe steps before her. She turned, saw him, and gave a shriek, butrecovered herself and picked them up. Her amazement grew as she lookedthem over, for there was no sign of a bullet-wound, and she went in totell how the Injun boy must naturally just "charm 'em right out o' detrees."
At the front door Harry hailed him and Barbara came running out.
"I forgot to get you another suit of clothes last night," he said, "andwe were scared this morning. We thought you had left us, and Barbarathere nearly cried." Barbara blushed now and did not deny.
"Come to breakfast!" she cried.
"Did you find anything to shoot?" Harry asked.
"Nothin' but some squirrels," said the lad.
Colonel Dale soon came in.
"You've got the servants mystified," he said laughingly. "They thinkyou're a witch. How _did_ you kill those squirrels?"
"I couldn't see their heads--so I barked 'em."
"Barked?"
"I shot between the bark and the limb right under the squirrel, an' theshock kills 'em. Uncle Dan'l Boone showed me how to do that."
"Daniel Boone!" breathed Harry. "Do you know Daniel Boone?"
"Shucks, Dave can beat him shootin'."
And then Hugh came in, pale of face and looking rather ashamed. He wentstraight to the Kentuckian.
"I was rude to you last night and I owe you an apology."
He thrust out his hand and awkwardly the boy rose and took it.
"And you'll forgive me, too, Barbara?"
"Of course I will," she said happily, but holding up one finger ofwarning--should he ever do it again. The rest of the guests trooped innow, and some were going out on horseback, some for a sail, and somevisiting up the river in a barge, and all were paired off, even Harry.
"I'm going to drive Cousin Erskine over the place with my ponies," saidBarbara, "and----"
"I'm going back to bed," interrupted Hugh, "or read a little Latin andGreek with Mr. Brockton." There was impudence as well as humor in this,for the tutor had given up Hugh in despair long ago.
Barbara shook her head.
"You are going with us," she said.
"I want Hugh to ride with me," said Colonel Dale, "and give Firefly alittle exercise. Nobody else can ride him."
The Kentucky boy turned a challenging eye, as did every young man at thetable, and Hugh felt very comfortable. While every one was gettingready, Harry brought out two foils and two masks on the porch a littlelater.
"We fight with those," he said, pointing to the crossed rapiers on thewall, "but we practise with these. Hugh, there, is the champion fencer,"he said, "and he'll show you."
Harry helped the Kentucky boy to mask and they crossed foils--Hugh givinginstructions all the time and nodding approval.
"You'll learn--you'll learn fast," he said. And over his shoulder toHarry:
"Why, his wrist is as strong as mine now, and he's got an eye like aweasel."
With a twist he wrenched the foil from his antagonist's hand andclattered it on the steps. The Kentuckian was bewildered and his faceflushed. He ran for the weapon.
"You can't do that again."
"I don't believe I can," laughed Hugh.
"Will you learn me some more?" asked the boy eagerly.
"I surely will."
A little later Barbara and her cousin were trotting smartly along asandy road through the fields with the colonel and Hugh loping in frontof them. Firefly was a black mettlesome gelding. He had reared andplunged when Hugh mounted, and even now he was champing his bit andleaping playfully at times, but the lad sat him with an unconcern of hiscapers that held the Kentucky boy's eyes.
"Gosh," he said, "but Hugh can ride! I wonder if he could stay on himbareback."
"I suppose so," Barbara said; "Hugh can do anything."
The summer fields of corn and grain waved away on each side under thewind, innumerable negroes were at work and song on either side, greatbarns and whitewashed cabins dotted the rich landscape which beyond theplantation broke against woods of sombre pines. For an hour they drove,the boy's bewildered eye missing few details and understanding few, soforeign to him were all the changes wrought by the hand, and he couldhardly have believed that this country was once as wild as his own--thatthis was to be impoverished and his own become even a richer land. Manyquestions the little girl asked--and some of his answers made hershudder.
"Papa said last night that several of our kinsfolk spoke of going toyour country in a party, and Harry and Hugh are crazy to go with them.Papa said people would be swarming over the Cumberland Mountains beforelong."
"I wish you'd come along."
Barbara laughed.
"I wouldn't like to lose my hair."
"I'll watch out for that," said the boy with such confident gravity thatBarbara turned to look at him.
"I believe you would," she murmured. And presently:
"What did the Indians call you?"
"White Arrow."
"White Arrow. That's lovely. Why?"
"I could outrun all the other boys."
"Then you'll have to run to-morrow when we go to the fair atWilliamsburg."
"The fair?"
Barbara explained.
For an hour or more they had driven and there was no end to the fieldsof tobacco and grain.
"Are we still on your land?"
Barbara laughed. "Yes, we can't drive around the plantation and get backfor dinner. I think we'd better turn now."
"Plan-ta-tion," said the lad. "What's that?"
Barbara waved her whip.
"Why, all this--the land--the farm."
"Oh!"
"It's called Red Oaks--from those big trees back of the house."
"Oh. I know oaks--all of 'em."
She wheeled the ponies and with fresh zest they scampered for home. Sheeven let them run for a while, laughing and chatting meanwhile, thoughthe light wagon swayed from side to side perilously as the boy thought,and when, in his ignorance of the discourtesy involved, he was on thepoint of reaching for the reins, she spoke to them and pulled themgently into a swift trot. Everybody had gathered for the noonday dinnerwhen they swung around the great trees and up to the back porch. Theclamor of the great bell gave its summons and the guests beganstraggling in by couples from the garden. Just as they were starting inthe Kentucky boy gave a cry and darted down the path. A towering figurein coonskin cap and hunter's garb was halted at the sun-dial and lookingtoward them.
"Now, I wonder who _that_ is," said Colonel Dale. "Jupiter, but that boycan run!"
They saw the tall stranger stare wonderingly at the boy and throw backhis head and laugh. Then the two came on together. The boy was stillflushed but the hunter's face was grave.
"This is Dave," said the boy simply.
"Dave Yandell," added the stranger, smiling and taking off his cap."I've been at Williamsburg to register s
ome lands and I thought I'd comeand see how this young man is getting along."
Colonel Dale went quickly to meet him with outstretched hand.
"I'm glad you did," he said heartily. "Erskine has already told us aboutyou. You are just in time for dinner."
"That's mighty kind," said Dave. And the ladies, after he was presented,still looked at him with much curiosity and great interest. Truly,strange visitors were coming to Red Oaks these days.
That night the subject of Hugh and Harry going back home with the twoKentuckians was broached to Colonel Dale, and to the wondering delightof the two boys both fathers seemed to consider it favorably. Mr.Brockton was going to England for a visit, the summer was coming on, andboth fathers thought it would be a great benefit to their sons. EvenMrs. Dale, on whom the hunter had made a most agreeable impression,smiled and said she would already be willing to trust her son with theirnew guest anywhere.
"I shall take good care of him, madam," said Dave with a bow.
Colonel Dale, too, was greatly taken with the stranger, and he askedmany questions of the new land beyond the mountains. There was dancingagain that night, and the hunter, towering a head above them all, lookedon with smiling interest. He even took part in a square dance with MissJane Willoughby, handling his great bulk with astonishing grace andlightness of foot. Then the elder gentlemen went into the drawing-roomto their port and pipes, and the boy Erskine slipped after them andlistened enthralled to the talk of the coming war.
Colonel Dale had been in Hanover ten years before, when one PatrickHenry voiced the first intimation of independence in Virginia; Henry, acountry storekeeper--bankrupt; farmer--bankrupt; storekeeper again, andbankrupt again; an idler, hunter, fisher, and story-teller--even a"barkeeper," as Mr. Jefferson once dubbed him, because Henry had oncehelped his father-in-law to keep tavern. That far back Colonel Dale hadheard Henry denounce the clergy, stigmatize the king as a tyrant who hadforfeited all claim to obedience, and had seen the orator caught up onthe shoulders of the crowd and amidst shouts of applause borne aroundthe court-house green. He had seen the same Henry ride into Richmond twoyears later on a lean horse: with papers in his saddle-pockets, hisexpression grim, his tall figure stooping, a peculiar twinkle in hissmall blue eyes, his brown wig without powder, his coat peach-blossom incolor, his knee-breeches of leather, and his stockings of yarn. Thespeaker of the Burgesses was on a dais under a red canopy supported bygilded rods, and the clerk sat beneath with a mace on the table beforehim, but Henry cried for liberty or death, and the shouts of treasonfailed then and there to save Virginia for the king. The lad's brainwhirled. What did all this mean? Who was this king and what had he done?He had known but the one from whom he had run away. And this talk oftaxes and Stamp Acts; and where was that strange land, New England,whose people had made tea of the salt water in Boston harbor? Until afew days before he had never known what tea was, and he didn't like it.When he got Dave alone he would learn and learn and learn--everything.And then the young people came quietly in and sat down quietly, andColonel Dale, divining what they wanted, got Dave started on stories ofthe wild wilderness that was his home--the first chapter in the Iliad ofKentucky--the land of dark forests and cane thickets that separatedCatawbas, Creeks, and Cherokees on the south from Delawares, Wyandottes,and Shawnees on the north, who fought one another, and all of whom thewhites must fight. How Boone came and stayed two years in the wildernessalone, and when found by his brother was lying on his back in the woodslustily singing hymns. How hunters and surveyors followed; how the firstfort was built, and the first women stood on the banks of the KentuckyRiver. He told of the perils and hardships of the first journeysthither--fights with wild beasts and wild men, chases, hand-to-handcombats, escapes, and massacres--and only the breathing of his listenerscould be heard, save the sound of his own voice. And he came finally tothe story of the attack on the fort, the raising of a small hand abovethe cane, palm outward, and the swift dash of a slender brown body intothe fort, and then, seeing the boy's face turn scarlet, he did not tellhow that same lad had slipped back into the woods even while the fightwas going on, and slipped back with the bloody scalp of his enemy, butended with the timely coming of the Virginians, led by the lad's father,who got his death-wound at the very gate. The tense breathing of hislisteners culminated now in one general deep breath.
Colonel Dale rose and turned to General Willoughby.
"And _that's_ where he wants to take our boys."
"Oh, it's much safer now," said the hunter. "We have had no trouble forsome time, and there's no danger inside the fort."
"I can imagine you keeping those boys inside the fort when there's somuch going on outside. Still--" Colonel Dale stopped and the two boystook heart again. The ladies rose to go to bed, and Mrs. Dale wasshaking her head very doubtfully, but she smiled up at the tall hunterwhen she bade him good night.
"I shall not take back what I said."
"Thank you, madam," said Dave, and he bent his lips to her absurdlylittle white hand.
Colonel Dale escorted the boy and Dave to their room. Mr. Yandell mustgo with them to the fair at Williamsburg next morning, and Mr. Yandellwould go gladly. They would spend the night there and go to theGovernor's Ball. The next day there was a county fair, and perhaps Mr.Henry would speak again. Then Mr. Yandell must come back with them toRed Oaks and pay them a visit--no, the colonel would accept no excusewhatever.
The boy plied Dave with questions about the people in the wilderness andpassed to sleep. Dave lay awake a long time thinking that war was sureto come. They were Americans now, said Colonel Dale--not Virginians, justas nearly a century later the same people were to say:
"We are not Americans now--we are Virginians."