by James Otis
CHAPTER II.
BESIEGED.
This kind of warfare was new to me. Although living on the frontier sofar from any other settlement, our cabin had never before been attackedby savages.
My father was killed some distance away from home, and, judging from thesigns nearabout the place where he had been tortured to death, it seemedcertain that no more than three Indians had captured him.
Most likely it was a party of hunters, who had not really come out formischief, but seeing an opportunity to take the life of a white manseized upon it. If they had been on the warpath, then beyond aperadventure our cabin would have been attacked.
To Simon Kenton, however, this sort of work was by no means new. He hadbeen besieged many times, as we knew from the stories the young man toldus a short time previous; but I ventured to say that never before had hebeen pitted against the painted foes with so small a force, and in aplace where it was not probable any help could come.
Our cabin was situated so far back from the river that those passing upor down the stream would not suspect a habitation was near at hand, and,unless well acquainted with the clearing, an hundred men might go backand forth, never thinking that a settler had ventured in this vicinity.
Therefore it was that I, and most likely Simon Kenton also, realized howentirely alone we were. Unless we could beat off this foe which had sosuddenly assailed us, within a comparatively short time, the end wasnear at hand for all, because no preparations had been made for a siege,and our store of provisions and water, even with careful husbanding,must be exhausted within a few days.
As all this came into my mind, and I learned that it was possible forthe Indians to send their bullets inside, through the chinks between thelogs, provided they were sufficiently good marksmen, my heart sankwithin me. I said to myself that Kenton had come too late to be ofservice to us, and too soon for his own safety.
As I have said, the savages had crept up under the cover of darknessclose beneath the walls of the cabin, and were able to shoot at us withbut little danger to themselves. Our only hope lay in dislodging themfrom their place of vantage, and this much I realized fully even thoughunexperienced in warfare.
On reading what is here set down one may say that a boy of sixteen,situated as was I at that moment, would not thus calmly weigh thechances for and against a successful defense. In reply to suchcriticism, I would say that in my opinion any lad of ordinaryintelligence must perforce have had much the same thoughts, because ofthe ample time for reflection.
After the first volley, and until perhaps ten minutes had elapsed, theIndians gave no sign of life. All was still as if we three were alone inthe wilderness--as if it had been some hideous nightmare which awakenedus. During such time, Simon Kenton stood like a statue; but in suchattitude as gave me to understand that all his senses were alert. He wasan experienced Indian fighter, listening for some token which shouldgive him a clue as to how he might best protect his own life.
My mother remained near one of the loopholes at the rear of the house,also on the alert, and I had not moved from the position taken up whenwe made our first poor preparations for the defense.
Suddenly, and when I had come to believe that our chances for asuccessful defense were slight indeed, Simon Kenton moved swiftly, yetnoiselessly, to that side of the room opposite where I was standing,thrust the muzzle of his rifle between the logs near to the ground andfired.
A cry of pain followed the report of the weapon, and it was as if thenoise had but just died away, when the young man had his rifle chargedonce more, so rapid were his movements.
One, two, three minutes, perhaps, passed in silence, and again, but inanother quarter, did Kenton repeat his maneuver, although during thistime I had heard nothing whatsoever save my own labored breathing.
A second cry from without told that two of the painted snakes hadreceived a more or less serious dose of lead without having inflictedinjury upon us.
I knew that Kenton's acts had been the result of his keen sense ofhearing, and said to myself that the man must have been fitted by naturefor work like this, since it would be impossible for any person to trainhis ears to such perfection.
This thought was in my mind when I heard a rustling of the foliage onthe outside near where I stood, and that instant I made as if to copythe example of my companion.
"It is too late now," he said in a low tone. "The snakes are creepin'off satisfied that they are like to get the worst of such a game. Theywill hatch up some other plan before troublin' us again."
"But surely we haven't bested them so soon as this," I replied like astupid, and he laughed as if there was somewhat of humor in my remark.
"They have come here to plunder this cabin, and are not like to draw offso soon. We will have enough of their company within the next four andtwenty hours; but for a time I reckon we have got a breathin' spell.This is the way the British king wages war; provokin' the savagesagainst peaceful settlers; but once Major Clarke has broken up theEnglish nests, I'll venture to say the scurvy redcoats will turn theirattention to other matters than playin' the part of butchers."
"If we had only started to meet Major Clarke's force when you firstarrived," I said despondently, whereat Simon Kenton clapped me on theshoulder in a friendly fashion, as he cried:
"This is no time to be thinking of what might have happened, LouisNelson. Men on the frontier must ever look forward, else by gazingbackward their hearts may grow timorous. Until we have driven off thesesavages it should be to us as if Major Clarke's force had never setout."
Mother had made no attempt to join in the conversation. Her pale faceand quivering lips told that she was thinking of that time, only such ashort distance in the past, when father had been in the clutches ofthose who at that moment thirsted for our blood, and grief overshadowedall the fears which the future could present.
Observing her, and knowing full well what terrible memories had cometrooping into her mind, I fell silent, striving as best I could to keepback the timorousness which threatened to overcome me as I thus realizedwhat the wretches on the outside would do once our feeble defense wasovercome.
Simon Kenton moved here and there noiselessly as a cat, intent only uponlearning so much of what might be going on outside as his ears couldtell him.
While I remained motionless and silent at the post assigned me, he neverceased for an instant his stealthy movements, and the knowledge that hewas so keenly on the alert did much toward strengthening my weak heart.
When perhaps an hour had passed thus in silence, a great hope came tome, and foolishly I gave it words.
"The savages, finding that we were prepared for them, have drawn off," Isaid, whereat Kenton smiled pityingly as one might at the foolish remarkof a child.
"We are not rid of them so easily, else are they different from any ofthe scoundrels I have chanced to come across. Once having made anattack, and blood has been drawn, I warrant you, we must beat them offby sheer force before we can count on their leaving this clearin'."
When perhaps another hour had passed, and yet the enemy made no sign, Iwas grown more courageous, and ate of the corn cake and dried venisonwhich had been set out for our refreshment; but mother remained wrappedin gloomy thought, and Simon Kenton did not even for the slightest spaceof time relax his vigilance.
It must have been well on toward morning before we heard aught more ofthose whose great desire was to shed our blood.
Then the first intimation I had of any movement was the report ofKenton's rifle.
"Did you see anything?" I asked in a tremor.
"No; but they are comin' this way with brushwood, havin' an idea to setfire to the cabin."
Even though the danger which beset us was great, I could not repress mycuriosity. It seemed almost as if he had made me a foolish answer, forhow might a man know, when it was so dark that one could not see threepaces from the cabin in either direction, that the savages were makingready for any such attempt, and I asked how he was so positive as totheir movem
ents.
"I have heard them rippin' off the dry branches with their knives, and,just before I fired, knew from the noise in the thicket that they weredraggin' the brushwood this way."
I was almost bewildered by this man's knowledge of woodcraft; butrefrained from commenting, contenting myself by saying in a tone ofsatisfaction:
"They will not make much headway at setting these green logs on fire. Itis but two days since the rain came down in such torrents that theoutside of the cabin must be sodden with water."
"They may succeed in fillin' the room with smoke; but that counts forlittle. The flames will give us an opportunity which must not beneglected."
It is possible that the savages came to understand all this beforecarrying out the plan which Kenton believed had been formed, for afterhe discharged his rifle we heard no more of them, and, finally, when itseemed as if at least eight and forty hours were passed, the gray lightcame stealing through the thicket, slowly dispelling the darkness, untilwe had clear range of vision from the loopholes on either hand.
Twenty paces from the front of the house lay a pile of dry brush,telling that Simon Kenton's ears had not deceived him.
There were no signs of our foe. So far as one's eyes might give himinformation, we were alone in the thicket with none to molest or makeafraid.
Kenton set about making a blaze in the fireplace, and such act arousedmy mother from her sorrowful memories to a realization of the present.
All her housewifely instincts took possession of her once more, and sheset about preparing breakfast--perhaps the last meal we might ever eat.
"Think you the savages count on starving us out?" I asked, rather forthe purpose of starting a conversation than to gain information.
"It may be that all the party are not yet arrived, and those who madethe first attack are waitin' for more to come up. If the entire force ishere, then certain it is they count on starvin' us, although so far asthe villains know, that may prove a long task. Were you and I alone, Ishould favor tryin' to give 'em the slip after midnight; but it would befolly to attempt anything of the kind while your mother is to beprotected."
"You will not find her a coward," I said proudly, whereat he repliedwith a laugh:
"Of that we have already had good proof; but there would be too muchdanger in attemptin' to fight our way out while she was with us. After atime----"
He was interrupted by rifle shots in the distance. First one, then acouple, and, after an interval of four or five seconds, what soundedlike a regular volley.
Then came scattering shots, by which I understood that whoever wasengaged in deadly combat had succeeded in gaining a shelter, and wasfiring only when the possibility of hitting a target presented itself.
"Can it be that some of Major Clarke's force have come our way?" I askedas a great hope came into my heart; but Simon Kenton speedily dashed it.
"The major's men are to sail down the river, and would not stop thisside of Corn Island, save through dire necessity."
"Then who can the savages have been firing at?"
"Some white man must have ventured this way, as did I, and walked intothe very thick of them."
"But all the while we have lived here you are the first who has come tothis clearing by accident," I replied, still bent on believing that someof the major's forces must have gone out of their road, and were thusnear enough to lend aid in our time of trouble.
"It is a trapper or, a settler," Kenton said decisively, with the air ofone who will not admit himself at fault. "The question in my mind iswhether I'm not bound to lend a hand."
"Surely you would never think of leaving the cabin in daylight, when youknow beyond a peradventure that the savages are watching it?" my mothersaid in alarm, and Kenton turned away as if realizing the truth of herwords.
It is not possible for me to set down on paper such as will enableanother to understand our feelings during this time when we knew whitemen were struggling for life, and needing the aid which we werepowerless to give.
It seemed little short of the veriest cowardice to remain within shelterat such a time, and yet all of us knew full well that speedy death wouldcome to him who should venture out.
Five minutes after the first report was heard all was silent again, formayhap half an hour, during which time each of us, even Kenton, had cometo hope the Indians were baffled in their effort to murder, and withthat hope came into my mind a most intense regret that we had not beenable to give warning of our sore need.
I persisted in believing that some of Major Clarke's men had been nearat hand, and said to myself we might have escaped all our perils couldit have been possible to give an alarm.
When half an hour had passed the firing broke out again, not in volleys,but with a shot at intervals of ten or fifteen seconds, and then we allfancied screams of pain and exultation could be heard.
"The savages have succeeded!" Kenton said curtly. "Whoever blunderedthis way has already paid for the mistake, or will before the sun risesagain."
Mother, her mind once more in the past, turned pale as death and Itrembled like one with an ague, for it seemed at the moment as if thiswas a token of what our fate would be.
The breakfast which mother had been preparing was neglected until sometime later, when Simon Kenton said with an evident effort atcheerfulness:
"We're playin' the fool to stand here as if waitin' for the paintedscoundrels to do their will. We have no reason to despair because theyhave captured some unfortunate; but should be all the more determined toworst them."
Then he deftly finished the work mother had begun, and insisted upon oursharing in the meal, for, according to his belief, there was no reasonwhy we need stand close guard now that the sun had risen.
Under such circumstances it was difficult to eat, at least I found itso; food well-nigh choked me, but I forced it down because of his sterncommand, and we made at least the semblance of eating breakfast, with asmuch zest as you can fancy people display under the shadow of thegallows.
When the pretense of a meal had come to an end, Kenton got up from thetable and stood at the loophole in the door an instant, giving vent to alow exclamation of surprise or dismay as he peered forth.
In a twinkling I was by his side, and there saw that which caused thecold chill of fear to run down my back.
Directly in front of the cabin, toward the river, beyond range of ourrifles, stood a man and a boy, each bound hand and foot to a tree trunk.
It was the report of their guns that we heard, and fortune had beenunkind to them, else death would have come during the fight. It hadbeen delayed that it might be accompanied by the keenest torture.
"Are they neighbors of yours?" Kenton asked.
"So far as I know, there are no settlers nearabout."
"Then this man and boy have come lookin' for a place to make a clearin',or are workin' their way eastward from some point below on the river."
This did not seem a reasonable explanation, to my mind, for if theprisoners had been coming up the river they would not have ventured sofar away as must have been the case when the Indians discovered them;but my heart was too heavy to admit of making any argument against hisassertion, which, as a matter of fact, was of but little consequence nowthat they were doomed to a cruel death.
And that they were doomed we knew full well. The savages were countingon torturing them where we might have a full view of the horriblespectacle, and we could not hope anything would happen to prevent it.
On the evening previous Simon Kenton had told us the story of a settlerwho was beset even as we were then, and whose nearest neighbor wastortured at the stake within his range of vision that the helpless manmight see what was in store for him when he could no longer make anydefense.
While hearing the story it was impossible for me to realize howagonizing must have been the position of the besieged man. Now Iunderstood it keenly, and resolved not to look out from that side of thehouse again, lest the painted fiends should begin their horrible workbefore night
came.
Mother knew from our conversation what it was we gazed at, and remainednearabout the fireplace striving to choke back the sobs of grief andsympathy which shook her frame.
After gazing upon the helpless captives five minutes or more, as if topicture indelibly upon his mind all the surroundings, Simon Kentonbegan moving to and fro across the end of the room, not on the alertagainst the enemy, but apparently plunged in deep thought.
After a time he said curtly to me:
"Keep a lookout on either side, lad, for some of the snakes may growcareless, an' you will get a shot."
Then he fell to pacing to and fro again, and after what seemed a verylong time of most painful silence, said to me as if announcing the mostcommonplace fact:
"I count on lendin' a hand to those poor fellows yonder."
"Lending a hand!" I repeated in amazement. "Haven't you declared it wasimpossible to leave this house without being shot down?"
"Yes, an' I reckon that comes pretty near being the truth."
"Then how may you give them any assistance?"
"I am not countin' on tryin' to do anything just now. There's like tobe plenty of time, for unless something happens to interrupt the curs,they will not torture the prisoners until evening. When the sun goesdown I shall creep out."
"And then is the time when the Indians will keep a closer watch," Iventured to say.
"Ay, lad, you are right, and yet we must contrive to outwit them.Instead of openin' the door, I'll make my way through the small windowat the rear, which can be the better guarded by you and your motherwhile the shutter is unfastened."
"I shall go with you," I said, speaking on impulse, and hardly realizingthe meaning of the words.
"You'll do nothing of the kind. Your duty is here, and mine there."