CHAPTER III. THE HUT ON THE ISLET
Henry Ware waited at least a quarter of an hour by the creek on theexact spot at which he and Solomon Hyde, called the shiftless one, hadparted, but he knew all the while that his last comrade was not coming.The same powerful and mysterious hand that swept the others away hadtaken him, the wary and cunning Shif'less Sol, master of forest lore andwith all the five senses developed to the highest pitch. Yet his powershad availed him nothing, and the boy again felt that cold chill runningdown his spine.
Henry expected the omnipotent force to come against him, also, but hisinstinctive caution made him turn and creep into the thickest of theforest, continuing until he found a place in the bushes so thoroughlyhidden that no one could see him ten feet away. There he lay downand rapidly ran over in his mind the events connected with the fourdisappearances. They were few, and he had little on which to go, but hisduty to seek his four comrades, since he alone must do it, was all thegreater. Such a thought as deserting them and fleeing for his ownlife never entered his mind. He would not only seek them, but he wouldpenetrate the mystery of the power that had taken them.
It was like him now to go about his work with calmness and method. Toapproach an arduous task right one must possess freshness and vigor, andone could have neither without sleep. His present place of hiding seemedto be as secure as any that could be found. So composing himself he tookall chances and sought slumber. Yet it needed a great effort of the willto calm his nerves, and it was a half hour before he began to feel anyof the soothing effect that precedes sleep. But fall asleep he did atlast, and, despite everything, he slept soundly until the morning.
Henry did not awake to a bright day. The sun had risen, but it wasobscured by gray clouds, and the whole heavens were somber. A cold windbegan to blow, and with it came drops of rain. He shivered despite theenfolding blanket. The coming of the morning had invariably broughtcheerfulness and increase of spirits, but now he felt depression. Heforesaw heavy rain again, and it would destroy any but the deepesttrail. Moreover, his supplies of food were exhausted and he mustreplenish them in some manner before proceeding further.
A spirit even as bold and strong as Henry's might well have despaired.He had found his comrades, only to lose them again, and the danger thathad threatened them, and the elements as well, now threatened him, too.An acute judge of sky and air, he knew that the rain, cold, insistent,penetrating, would fall all day, and that he must seek shelter if hewould keep his strength. The Indians themselves always took to cover atsuch times.
He wrapped the blanket around himself, covering his body well from neckto ankle, putting his rifle just inside the fold, but with his handupon it, ready for instant use if it should be needed. Then he started,walking straight ahead until he came to the crown of a little hill.The clouds meanwhile thickened, and the rain, of the kind that he hadforeseen and as cold as ice, was blown against him. The grass and busheswere reeking, and his moccasins became sodden. Despite the vigorouswalking, lie felt the wet cold entering his system. There come timeswhen the hardiest must yield, and he saw the increasing need of refuge.
He surveyed the country attentively from the low hill. All around was adull gray horizon from which the icy rain dripped everywhere. There wasno open country. All was forest, and the heavy rolling masses of foliagedripped with icy water, too.
Toward the south the land seemed to dip down, and Henry surmised that ina valley he would be more likely to find the shelter that he craved. Heneeded it badly. As he stood there he shivered again and again fromhead to foot, despite the folds of the blanket. So he started at once,walking fast, and feeling little fear of a foe. It was not likely thatany would be seeking him at such a time. The rain struck him squarelyin the face now. Water came from his moccasins every time his foot waspressed against the earth, and, no matter how closely he drew the foldsof the blanket, little streams of it, like ice to the touch, flowed downhis neck and made their way under his clothing. He could not remember atime when he had felt more miserable.
He came in about an hour to the dip which, as he had surmised, was theedge of a considerable valley. He ran down the slope, and looked allabout for some place of shelter, a thick windbreak in the lee of a hill,or an outcropping of stone, but he saw neither, and, as he continuedthe search, he came to marshy ground. He saw ahead among the weeds andbushes the gleam of standing pools, and he was about to turn back, whenhe noticed three or four stones, in a row and about a yard from oneanother, projecting slightly above the black muck. It struck him thatthe stones would not naturally be in the soft mud, and, his curiosityaroused, he stepped lightly from one stone to another. When he came tothe last stone that he had seen from the hard ground he beheld severalmore that had been hidden from him by the bushes. Sure now that he hadhappened upon something not created by nature alone, he followed thesestones, leading like steps into the very depths of the swamp, which wasnow deep and dark with ooze all about him. He no longer doubted that thestones, the artificial presence of which might have escaped the keenesteye and most logical mind, were placed there for a purpose, and he wasresolved to know its nature.
The stepping stones led him about sixty yards into the swamp, and thelast thirty yards were at an angle from the first thirty. Then he cameto a bit of hard ground, a tiny islet in the mire, upon which he couldstand without sinking at all. He looked back from there, and he couldnot see his point of departure. Bushes, weeds, and saplings grew out ofthe swamp to a height of a dozen or fifteen feet, and he was inclosedcompletely. All the vegetation dripped with cold water, and the placewas one of the most dismal that he had ever seen. But he had no thoughtof turning back.
Henry made a shrewd guess as to whither the path led, but he inferredfrom the appearance of the stepping stones-chiefly from the fact thatan odd one here and there had sunk completely out of sight-that they hadnot been used in a long time, perhaps for years. He found on the otherside of the islet a second line of stones, and they led across a marsh,that was almost like a black liquid, to another and larger island.
Here the ground was quite firm, supporting a thick growth of largetrees. It seemed to Henry that this island might be seventy or eightyyards across, and he began at once to explore it. In the center,surrounded so closely by swamp oaks that they almost formed a livingwall, he found what he had hoped to find, and his relief was so greatthat, despite his natural and trained stoicism, he gave a little cry ofpleasure when he saw it.
A small lodge, made chiefly of poles and bark after the Iroquoisfashion, stood within the circle of the trees, occupying almost thewhole of the space. It was apparently abandoned long ago, and timeand weather had done it much damage. But the bark walls, although theyleaned in places at dangerous angles, still stood. The bark roof waspierced by holes on one side, but on the other it was still solid, andshed all the rain from its slope.
The door was open, but a shutter made of heavy pieces of bark cunninglyjoined together leaned against the wall, and Henry saw that he couldmake use of it. He stepped inside. The hut had a bark floor which wasdry on one side, where the roof was solid, but dripping on the other.Several old articles of Indian use lay about. In one corner was a basketwoven of split willow and still fit for service. There were pieces ofthread made of Indian hemp and the inner bark of the elm. There werealso a piece of pottery and a large, beautifully carved wooden spoonsuch as every Iroquois carried. In the corner farthest from the doorwas a rude fireplace made of large flat stones, although there was noopening for the smoke.
Henry surveyed it all thoughtfully, and he came to the conclusion thatit was a hut for hunting, built by some warrior of an inquiring mind whohad found this secret place, and who had recognized its possibilities.Here after an expedition for game he could lie hidden from enemies andtake his comfort without fear. Doubtless he had sat in this hut on rainydays like the present one and smoked his pipe in the long, patient calmof which the Indian is capable.
Yes, there was the pipe, unnoticed before, trumpet shaped and carvedbeautifully
, lying on a small bark shelf. Henry picked it tip andexamined the bowl. It was as dry as a bone, and not a particle oftobacco was left there. He believed that it had not been used for atleast a year. Doubtless the Indian who had built this hunting lodge hadfallen in some foray, and the secret of it had been lost until HenryWare, seeking through the cold and rain, had stumbled upon it.
It was nothing but a dilapidated little lodge of poles and bark, alla-leak, but the materials of a house were there, and Henry was strongand skillful. He covered the holes in the roof with fallen pieces ofbark, laying heavy pieces of wood across them to hold them in place.Then he lifted the bark shutter into position and closed the door. Somedrops of rain still came in through the roof, but they were not many,and he would not mind them for the present. Then he opened the door andbegan his hardest task.
He intended to build a fire on the flat stones, and, securing fallenwood, he stripped off the bark and cut splinters from the inside. It wasslow work and he was very cold, his wet feet sending chills throughhim, but he persevered, and the little heap of dry splinters grew toa respectable size. Then he cut larger pieces, laying them on one sidewhile he worked with his flint and steel on the splinters.
Flint and steel are not easily handled even by the most skillful, andHenry saw the spark leap up and die out many times before it finallytook hold of the end of the tiniest splinter and grew. He watched itas it ran along the little piece of wood and ignited another and thenanother, the beautiful little red and yellow flames leaping up half afoot in height. Already he felt the grateful warmth and glow, but hewould not let himself indulge in premature joy. He fed it with largerand larger pieces until the flames, a deeper and more beautiful red andyellow, rose at least two feet, and big coals began to form. He leftthe door open a while in order that the smoke might go out, but when thefire had become mostly coals he closed it again, all except a crack ofabout six inches, which would serve at once to let any stray smoke out,and to let plenty of fresh air in.
Now Henry, all his preparations made, no detail neglected, proceeded toluxuriate. He spread the soaked blanket out on the bark floor, took offthe sodden moccasins and placed them at one angle of the fire, whilehe sat with his bare feet in front. What a glorious warmth it was! Itseemed to enter at his toes and proceed upward through his body, seekingout every little nook and cranny, to dry and warm it, and fill it fullof new glow and life.
He sat there a long time, his being radiating with physical comfort. Themoccasins dried on one side, and he turned the other. Finally they driedall over and all through, and he put them on again. Then he hung theblanket on the bark wall near the fire, and it, too, would be dry inanother hour or so. He foresaw a warm and dry place for the night, andsleep. Now if one only had food! But he must do without that for thepresent.
He rose and tested all his bones and muscles. No stiffness or sorenesshad come from the rain and cold, and he was satisfied. He was fit forany physical emergency. He looked out through the crevice. Night wascoming, and on the little island in the swamp it looked inexpressiblyblack and gloomy. His stomach complained, but he shrugged his shoulders,acknowledging primitive necessity, and resumed his seat by the fire.There he sat until the blanket had dried, and deep night had fully come.
In the last hour or two Henry did not move. He remained before the fire,crouched slightly forward, while the generous heat fed the flame of lifein him. A glowing bar, penetrating the crevice at the door, fell on theearth outside, but it did not pass beyond the close group of circlingtrees. The rain still fell with uncommon steadiness and persistence,but at times hail was mingled with it. Henry could not remember in hisexperience a more desolate night. It seemed that the whole world dweltin perpetual darkness, and that he was the only living being on it.Yet within the four or five feet square of the hut it was warmand bright, and he was not unhappy.
He would forget the pangs of hunger, and, wrapping himself in the dryblanket, he lay down before the bed of coals, having first raked ashesover them, and he slept one of the soundest sleeps of his life. Allnight long, the dull cold rain fell, and with it, at intervals, camegusts of hail that rattled like bird shot on the bark walls of the hut.Some of the white pellets blew in at the door, and lay for a moment ortwo on the floor, then melted in the glow of the fire, and were gone.
But neither wind, rain nor hail awoke Henry. He was as safe, for thetime, in the hut on the islet, as if he were in the fort at Pittsburghor behind the palisades at Wareville. Dawn came, the sky still heavy anddark with clouds, and the rain still falling.
Henry, after his first sense of refreshment and pleasure, becameconscious of a fierce hunger that no amount of the will could now keepquiet. His was a powerful system, needing much nourishment, and he musteat. That hunger became so great that it was acute physical pain. Hewas assailed by it at all points, and it could be repelled by only onething, food. He must go forth, taking all risks, and seek it.
He put on fresh wood, covering it with ashes in order that it might notblaze too high, and left the islet. The stepping stones were slipperywith water, and his moccasins soon became soaked again, but he forgotthe cold and wet in that ferocious hunger, the attacks of which becamemore violent every minute. He was hopeful that he might see a deer, oreven a squirrel, but the animals themselves were likely to keep undercover in such a rain. He expected a hard hunt, and it would be attendedalso by much danger--these woods must be full of Indians--but he thoughtlittle of the risk. His hunger was taking complete possession of hismind. He was realizing now that one might want a thing so much that itwould drive away all other thoughts.
Rifle in hand, ready for any quick shot, he searched hour after hourthrough the woods and thickets. He was wet, bedraggled, and as fierceas a famishing panther, but neither skill nor instinct guided him toanything. The rabbit hid in his burrow, the squirrel remained in hishollow tree, and the deer did not leave his covert.
Henry could not well calculate the passage of time, it seemed sofearfully long, and there was no one to tell him, but he judged thatit must be about noon, and his temper was becoming that of the famishedpanther to which he likened himself. He paused and looked around thecircle of the dripping woods. He had retained his idea of direction andhe knew that he could go straight back to the hut in the swamp. But hehad no idea of returning now. A power that neither he nor anyone elsecould resist was pushing him on his search.
Searching the gloomy horizon again, he saw against the dark sky athin and darker line that he knew to be smoke. He inferred, also, withcertainty, that it came from an Indian camp, and, without hesitation,turned his course toward it. Indian camp though it might be, andcontaining the deadliest of foes, he was glad to know something livedbeside himself in this wilderness.
He approached with great caution, and found his surmise to be correct.Lying full length in a wet thicket he saw a party of about twentywarriors-Mohawks he took them to be-in an oak opening. They had erectedbark shelters, they had good fires, and they were cooking. He saw themroasting the strips over the coals-bear meat, venison, squirrel, rabbit,bird-and the odor, so pleasant at other times, assailed his nostrils.But it was now only a taunt and a torment. It aroused every possiblepang of hunger, and every one of them stabbed like a knife.
The warriors, so secure in their forest isolation, kept no sentinels,and they were enjoying themselves like men who had everything theywanted. Henry could hear them laughing and talking, and he watched themas they ate strip after strip of the delicate, tender meat with thewonderful appetite that the Indian has after long fasting. A fierce,unreasoning anger and jealousy laid hold of him. He was starving, andthey rejoiced in plenty only fifty yards away. He began to form plansfor a piratical incursion upon them. Half the body of a deer lay nearthe edge of the opening, he would rush upon it, seize it, and dart away.It might be possible to escape with such spoil.
Then he recalled his prudence. Such a thing was impossible. The wholeband of warriors would be upon him in an instant. The best thing that hecould do was to shut out the sight
of so much luxury in which he couldnot share, and he crept away among the bushes wondering what he coulddo to drive away those terrible pains. His vigorous system was cryinglouder than ever for the food that would sustain it. His eyes wereburning a little too brightly, and his face was touched with fever.
Henry stopped once to catch a last glimpse of the fires and the feastingIndians under the bark shelters. He saw a warrior raise a bone, graspingit in both hands, and bite deep into the tender flesh that clothed it.The sight inflamed him into an anger almost uncontrollable. He clenchedhis fist and shook it at the warrior, who little suspected the proximityof a hatred so intense. Then he bent his head down and rushed away amongthe wet bushes which in rebuke at his lack of caution raked him acrossthe face.
Henry walked despondently back toward the islet in the swamp. The aspectof air and sky had not changed. The heavens still dripped icy water,and there was no ray of cheerfulness anywhere. The game remained wellhidden.
It was a long journey back, and as he felt that he was growing weak hemade no haste. He came to dense clumps of bushes, and plowing his waythrough them, he saw a dark opening under some trees thrown down by anold hurricane. Having some vague idea that it might be the lair of awild animal, he thrust the muzzle of his rifle into the darkness. Ittouched a soft substance. There was a growl, and a black form shot outalmost into his face. Henry sprang aside, and in an instant all hispowers and faculties returned. He had stirred up a black bear, andbefore the animal, frightened as much as he was enraged, could run farthe boy, careless how many Indians might hear, threw up his rifle andfired.
His aim was good. The bear, shot through the head, fell, and was dead.Henry, transformed, ran up to him. Bear life had been given up tosustain man's. Here was food for many days, and he rejoiced with a greatjoy. He did not now envy those warriors back there.
The bear, although small, was very fat. Evidently he had fed well onacorns and wild honey, and he would yield up steaks which, to one withHenry's appetite, would be beyond compare. He calculated that it wasmore than a mile to the swamp, and, after a few preliminaries, he flungthe body of the bear over his shoulder. Through some power of the mindover the body his full strength had returned to him miraculously, andwhen he reached the stepping stones he crossed from one to anotherlightly and firmly, despite the weight that he carried.
He came to the little bark hut which he now considered his own. Thenight had fallen again, but some coals still glowed under the ashes, andthere was plenty of dry wood. He did everything decently and in order.He took the pelt from the bear, carved the body properly, and then, justas the Indians had done, he broiled strips over the coals. He ate themone after another, slowly, and tasting all the savor, and, intense aswas the mere physical pleasure, it was mingled with a deep thankfulness.Not only was the life nourished anew in him, but he would now regain thestrength to seek his comrades.
When he had eaten enough he fastened the body of the bear, now inseveral portions, on hooks high upon the walls, hooks which evidentlyhad been placed there by the former owner of the hut for this verypurpose. Then, sure that the savor of the food would draw other wildanimals, he brought one of the stepping stones and placed it on theinside of the door. The door could not be pushed aside without arousinghim, and, secure in the knowledge, he went to sleep before the coals.
The Scouts of the Valley Page 3