On the Kentucky Frontier: A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West

by James Otis

  CHAPTER VI.

  ASTRAY.

  It seemed to me that the noise of the firearms had come from a pointabout half a mile from the shore, and less than a third of this distanceup-stream, therefore I bent my way in that direction, heeding nothingsave the terrible fear that Simon Kenton had been taken prisoner, orkilled outright.

  Could I have learned that he was dead my heart might have been somewhatlighter, for I knew full well how terrible would be the tortureinflicted upon him once the savages understood who he was.

  In such case, Paul and I were bound to carry the sad news back to thevolunteers without delay; but while there was a chance of our being ableto give him succor, I held that it was our duty to make every effort insuch direction.

  When I was older grown, and had seen more of warfare, I came tounderstand that the life of one man counts for but little when comparedwith the general good, and had such fact been impressed upon my mind atthis time, I would never have set out on the foolhardy errand which bidfair to lead Paul Sampson and me to our death.

  The lad whom Simon Kenton and I had saved from the stake was an aptpupil, as he showed on this night when he followed close in myfootsteps, betraying no signs of fear when he might well have beenexcused for betraying timorousness, and moving with the utmost caution.

  It is not for me to say that we advanced as silently as the young scoutcould have done; but I was satisfied that we were not moving in a clumsyfashion, and began to feel a certain pride in thus showing Paul how weof the frontier followed on the trail of our enemies.

  During perhaps half an hour we two went steadily but cautiously forward,and then it seemed to me as if we should have arrived at the spot fromwhich the shots had come.

  I halted and listened intently. Not a sound could be heard save thesoughing of the wind among the foliage, or the countless faint noises ofthe night which tell of life when the world is supposed to be sleeping.

  For the first time a sense of distrust in my own ability found lodgmentin my mind. It seemed positive we had either traveled in the wrongdirection, or the savages had left the vicinity where the encounter hadtaken place. Surely we ought to have come across Kenton, unless he madea wider detour than at first seemed probable, or, as I feared, had beentaken prisoners.

  A certain numbness as of despair took possession of me; I pressedforward with less heed than before to the direction I was taking, andagain stood still to listen.

  When we made this second halt I believed we were no less than two milesfrom where the canoe lay, and it was positive the enemy had not been sofar away when the weapons were discharged.

  Paul pressed my arm in token that he wanted to say something; but Iclapped my hand over his mouth. The fact that I had made a most grievousmistake was beginning to find lodgment in my dull brain, and a nervousfear was creeping over me.

  The thought that he, a lad from the east who knew nothing of woodcraft,had good reason to distrust my ability, angered me, and like a fool Iadvanced once more, this time at right angles with the course we hadbeen pursuing, even though I should have known that such traveling atrandom was not calculated to produce the desired results.

  When we had forced our way through the underbrush for a distance ofperhaps another mile, we were halted by a swamp.

  It was not possible that either the Indians or Simon Kenton hadattempted to cross such a place where one must flounder around withnoise enough to proclaim his every movement, and I leaned against thetrunk of a tree fully realizing all the mischief I had wrought.

  Again Paul gave token of wishing to speak, and I no longer attempted tocheck him.

  "If we are to hunt for Kenton, or count on learning what has become ofhim, would it not be better that we went back to the canoe, and waitedfor the coming of day?"

  "Then it is our duty to push up stream to warn the volunteers," Ireplied moodily.

  "We cannot hope to find him while it is dark, and it may be that weshall lose our way," he suggested mildly, whereupon, and without reason,I turned upon him angrily.

  "We have lost it already!"

  "Can you not retrace your steps to the river?" he asked mildly, andwithout show of fear.

  "We should be able to strike the stream; but, having done so, I couldnot say whether we were above or below the canoe, and we might travelfor hours in the wrong direction."

  "We would be able to learn our course by the current, and if it be notpossible to find the boat, then must we go up the river to warn thevolunteers."

  "And leave Simon Kenton in the hands of the savage brutes?" I askedangrily, grown unreasoning in my nervous fears and the knowledge that Ihad made a fool of myself.

  "We are not leaving Kenton, because we have never found him, and since,as seems true, we only wander about aimlessly, would it not be wisest tothink of the others, who rely upon us to point out the danger which mayawait them?"

  Paul Sampson was speaking like a sensible lad, and I realized it fully.He, the boy ignorant of woodcraft, should have been the leader, and Iwished most devoutly I had consulted with him before setting out onthis wild-goose chase.

  While one might have counted twenty I stood unwilling to acknowledge myhelplessness, and then something like a gleam of common sense came intomy mind. I stood ready to confess that I had acted like a simple, and hemust have understood something of the truth, when I said:

  "It shall be as you propose, Paul, and we'll make for the river; butthis time I am not counting on taking the lead, having already shownthat I have no right to direct our movements."

  "If you despair like this, then are we lost indeed," he said mildly."Remember that I know nothing whatever of such work. Go on as before,using your best efforts to lead us to the river. Then we should aim tomeet the volunteers, so it seems to me, forgetting poor Kenton becauseof the many others who need to know exactly what has happened here."

  Without attempting an argument, even had I been able to find one whichwould warrant our traveling to and fro as we had done, I acted upon hissuggestion.

  Either we had traveled in a southerly direction to where the river tooka sharp bend, or were much deeper in the forest than had at first seemedpossible to me, for a full hour was spent making our way through thetangled underbrush, now slowly because of the necessity for silence, andagain pressing forward as rapidly as we deemed safe, and not until sucha length of time had elapsed did we come to the bank of the stream.

  That I had allowed myself to be completely turned around was proven bythe current of the river, for without such evidence I would have gonetoward the south, believing I was making my way northward.

  "The canoe must be above us," Paul said as we halted, "and by followingthe shore it should be possible to come upon it."

  This seemed no more than reasonable, and hope once more filled my heartas I led the way along the bank, now moving with greater caution becauseit was more probable we might come upon the enemy.

  One place looked much like another in the darkness, and yet beforemidnight we arrived at a spot where I firmly believed the dugout hadbeen left.

  Paul was of the same opinion, even going so far as to declare that hehad noted on coming ashore the gum tree which we were standing nearwhile holding the consultation.

  I was disposed to believe as he did, but yet the fact that the canoecould not be found caused me to think both of us were mistaken.

  "Surely this can't be the place," I argued, "for none save Simon Kentoncould have come upon the canoe in the darkness, and, on failing to findus, he would wait a certain time for our return."

  "You can't say that positively," Paul replied, "for the scout realizesthat the safety of the volunteers depends upon him in a measure, andwould count our lives as of but little value compared with so many asare coming down the river."

  "Then you think he has been here and gone away in the boat?" I asked.

  "That I do, for the gum tree is as familiar to my eyes as anything canbe on so dark a night as this."

  I was overcome by the possibility. If w
hat Paul declared with suchassurance was true, then were we two lads left alone upon the banks ofthe river amid a savage foe, to make our way back to Corn Island, or,what would be a far more difficult and dangerous task, to continue on tothe mouth of the Tennessee River.

  By going back we should proclaim the fact of my folly, and prove me tobe a lad whose ignorance was near to crime; while to advance seemedlittle less than the sacrifice of our own lives.

  Somewhat of this I said to Paul, and he replied like the true-hearted,brave lad he was:

  "It is better to acknowledge one's ignorance than try to purchasesecrecy at the expense of life. If we have made a mistake, why not admitit?"

  I, who had plumed myself upon the fact that Simon Kenton was willing totake me with him as a scout, felt that almost anything was better thanreturning, and yet I knew it was my duty to push on up the stream towarn those who were descending, because we were not yet positive thatthe scout had taken away the boat.

  Kenton might be a prisoner in the hands of the savages, and in such caseit was of the utmost importance Major Clarke and his volunteers shouldknow the facts.

  Not without a severe mental struggle did I decide to smother my prideand follow Paul's advice; but once having settled upon a course ofaction, I was eager to pursue it.

  Prudence dictated that we should wait until daybreak; but I believe ofa verity it would have made me wild to remain in that spot inactive,thinking only of my folly, and now, as when we left the canoe, I pressedon with but one idea in mind; but, fortunately, yet retaining so much ofcommon sense as to understand that we must be on the alert to gain suchinformation as was possible during the journey.

  The further we continued on up the river, the more firmly did I becomeconvinced that our last halting place was at the spot where the canoehad been left, for we saw no other such familiar indentation on theshore, and now the important question in my mind was as to whether SimonKenton had embarked in the dugout, or if the Indians had carried heraway. This last proposition appeared to me so improbable that I hardlygave it a place in my thoughts.

  On, on, we went, traveling at the rate of no more than two miles anhour, because of being forced to move silently and at the same timecarrying out the plan of learning if there might be enemies in thevicinity, and it was nearabout daybreak when, as I believed, we had beenadvancing for no less than three hours, our progress was checked as wecame suddenly upon a party of savages, the greater number of whom wereasleep.

  It was accident, rather than wisdom, which prevented our tumblingdirectly in upon them, and thereby insuring our own captivity or death.

  I was in the lead, as Paul had insisted should be the case, and mythoughts were occupied with speculations concerning Simon Kenton ratherthan the work which lay before me, when a noise as of some one snoringarrested my footsteps.

  I had come to a halt within a dozen paces of the savages, and could see,where the underbrush was thinnest, the form of a feather-bedecked bruteleaning against a tree evidently on guard.

  A dozen steps more and we had been directly upon them.

  Turning quickly, I clasped my hand over Paul's mouth, lest he shouldspeak, although the lad had shown himself to be a better frontiersmanthan I, and this movement of mine told him of the danger so near athand.

  During twenty seconds, perhaps, we two stood peering into the gloom,able only to learn that there could not be less than twenty Indians hereencamped, and then silently as shadows, for our lives depended upon themovement, we turned about, retracing our steps until thirty yards ormore lay between us and the sleeping murderers.

  Then I whispered in my comrade's ear:

  "We must make a detour here lest those brutes come to know of ourwhereabouts, so keep well in mind the direction of the river."

  "Do you count on going forward without learning if Simon Kenton may beamong the savages?" he asked, and a flood of shame came over me as Ithus realized that my own danger had caused me to forget the scout at atime when his possible fate should have been uppermost in mind.

  Of a verity Paul Sampson ought to have been the leader, and I his humblefollower.

  So abased was I by his thoughtfulness and my own stupidity, that I wouldhave suggested he reconnoiter the camp, but an instant later, realizingthat such dangerous work should be performed by me if for no otherreason than that I might atone for my past folly, I whispered:

  "Stay here, while I go forward."

  "Why should I not follow? If it so be Kenton is not there, we maycontinue on, and thus save the time you would spend in returning to findme."

  Again he was right, and again was I stupid.

  Well, we did as he suggested, and no lad on the frontier could have donebetter work than this same Paul, who was so lately come from the east.

  Skirting around the sleeping scoundrels so silently that the quick-earedwatchers failed to take alarm, we got such view of the brutes as couldbe had in the darkness, and when half an hour or more was spent in thework, I could say of a truth that Simon Kenton had not been madeprisoner by this band.

  It was a great relief of mind, and yet only served to increase my shame,for now did I begin to believe that the scout had taken away the canoe,going up the river, or down, as might seem to him best, regardless of ustwo who had committed such a fault as was ours.

  The gray light was filtering through the foliage when we were clear ofthe foe and could with some degree of safety continue the journey.

  I pushed on at a swift pace that we might put the greatest possibledistance between them and us before the day should have fully come; andthe sun was rising when we halted for a breathing spell.

  Now I found that Paul had much the same idea as I regarding Kenton'swhereabouts, save that he contended the scout had continued on down theriver, believing a band of twenty would hardly attempt to lay an ambushfor three or four boats heavily laden with armed men.

  "A party like that might do great mischief firing upon the boats fromthe thicket," I said, "and if Simon Kenton saw them, I make certain hehas gone back. If not, we may gain some little credit, although hardlyenough to counterbalance the shame, by returning."

  We knew the volunteers would begin the journey as soon as day broke,therefore within an hour, if we traveled at our best pace, it should bepossible to hail the foremost craft.

  The Indians might also move in the same direction, therefore it stood usin hand to advance as rapidly as possible, and I led the way once moreat my best pace.

  Lest it may seem that I set down too much concerning what we did, andtoo little regarding the brave men who were about to risk their lives inorder that the settlers on the frontier might be more safe, thisaccount shall be cut short with no further mention of ourselves until wesaw, far in the distance, the first of the flat-boats.

  Making our way with all speed to the outermost portion of the point onwhich we were standing at the moment, we waved our arms vigorously, notdaring to shout, and the craft was yet a quarter of a mile away when wesaw by the commotion aboard that our signals had been seen andunderstood.

  Then two men set out in a canoe, paddling in advance of the unwieldyflat-boat in order that there might be no necessity of her rounding-to,and within a comparatively short time we were ferried out to the largercraft, on which was Major Clarke, eager to learn why we were returning.

  I had no desire to shield myself, although knowing full well that in theminds of such men as listened to the story I had committed almost acrime in deserting the canoe while Simon Kenton was ashore. The entiretale was told without reserve, and then was I gladdened by the major'swords:

  "It may be fortunate that you acted the part of a foolish lad, forcertain it is that Simon Kenton would not have disregarded such acompany as you saw on shore. It must be that he either failed to findthem, or came across another band. It stands us in hand to look afterthe party of reptiles lest they be on their way to Corn Island, there tofall upon the women and children."

  Having said this he gave certain orders to the men, and without de
laythe long sweeps were worked until the heavy craft was forced close intothe western bank, where she was made fast.

  Then thirty or more were ordered ashore, the major going with them afterhe had given us lads permission to follow.

  "That we will do, sir," I said, "if we are needed to lead the way."

  "We would be poor frontiersmen if we failed to follow your trail, lads,"Major Clarke said with a smile. "You shall do as you please."

  Now it would have suited me better to remain in safety aboard theflat-boat, yet there was a chance that now I might show my desire torepair the wrong committed, and I replied as if my heart was full ofcourage:

  "We may not be of much assistance, sir; but I should like it better ifwe had a hand in the work."

  Whereupon Paul stepped closely to my side as if to say I had but spokenthe thoughts which were in his mind.

  Thus it was that we two followed the volunteers, knowing full well wemight fall into an ambush, and certain we would soon be battling withour enemies.

  Among these men led by Major Clarke, there was not one ignorant of howthe work before him should be accomplished. No orders, were necessary.

  The volunteers moved ten or twelve paces apart, stretching far up fromthe river until they were what would be called by military men a"skirmish line," and then began the advance, while the flat-boatremained moored to the bank and two settlers were paddling at full speedup-stream to warn the other craft.

  Save for the bungling movements of Paul and myself, not a sound could beheard as we pressed forward, keenly on the alert for the enemy, andready for an immediate attack.

  It was as if a company of shadows flitted here and there amid theunderbrush, so far as might be told from sound, and although the advancewas noiseless, it was made swiftly.

  Paul and I were left somewhat in the rear because of not being able tokeep the pace silently, and during more than half of the hour whichpassed, I failed to see a single man ahead of us.

  Then suddenly, although we knew full well it must soon come, the reportof a rifle rang out on the still air; after this another and another,until there could be no question but that the foremost of the party hadcome upon those of whom we gave warning.

  My timorousness was forgotten on the instant--cast out of mind by theknowledge that our lives must be defended, and Paul, whom I believe of averity had never been timid, pressed forward so rapidly to take part inthe struggle that I laid hold of him lest he should unnecessarily runinto danger.

  We advanced three hundred paces or more before coming to where our menwere sheltered behind trees, trying to pick off the foe who were insimilar positions, and I heard Major Clarke say in a sharp, low tone:

  "Get to cover, lads! The reptiles are close upon us, and you are givingthem fair targets."

  I leaped behind a gum tree, giving no heed to Paul's movements, and hadbut just gained this shelter when a bullet cut the bark within an inchof my face.

  The Indians were ready for battle, although I had often heard it saidthey would never stand up in a fair fight, and there came into my mindthe fear that Paul and I might have seen only a portion of theirforce--that possibly we were confronting a large body led by Britishofficers.