The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio; or, Clearing the Wilderness

by St. George Rathborne

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE PERILS OF THE WILDERNESS

  "DID you see that, Bob?"

  Sandy clutched his brother by the arm as he whispered these words, andboth of them sank back lower behind the fringe of bushes.

  Some weeks had gone by since they had left the old home. By slowdegrees the mountains had been surmounted, and they were now nearingthe region of the Ohio, on the banks of which the settlers hoped tofind homes.

  There were eleven men in the party, with seven women, and a round dozenchildren of varying ages.

  Day by day the party of settlers had plodded onward, with their facesever toward the west. Often they saw the prowling panther near thecamp; and it was a common thing to have a deer or a buffalo spring upin advance of the caravan, to go bounding or lumbering away, startledby this first glimpse of white men.

  As there was no road it had been utterly impossible to make use of suchclumsy vehicles as the early settlers knew. Upon the backs of thehorses was piled all their possessions; and besides, frequently thewomen and children had to be added to the loads.

  The settlers considered themselves fortunate in having with them a manwho had gone over this trail before. Pat O'Mara kept at the head of thecolumn throughout each long day.

  Many times they had to make detours in order to overcome obstacles inthe way that could not be directly overcome. Sometimes these took theform of deep ravines, the banks of which were too steep to allow thehorses to obtain a foothold; then again they might be windfalls, wherethe grand forest trees had been razed, along a track half a mile broad,by some fierce tornado.

  When night drew near O'Mara selected some favorable place for a campwhich offered opportunities for defence. For they never allowedthemselves to fall into a state of security that might induce fatalcarelessness.

  Some days the settlers made fair progress under favoring conditions;then again they would strike a section of country where every mile hadto be won, with patient effort, foot by foot. And they were alwaysvigilant, believing in that motto of the Puritans: "Trust in the Lord;but _keep your powder dry_!"

  Each night, as the cheerful fires crackled, and the women gatheredaround to prepare the evening meal, the tired men would bring in woodfor use while the darkness lasted; and then throw together some sort ofdefence.

  While as yet these preparations had been apparently needless, stillthe cautious O'Mara warned them that they were now nearing the huntinggrounds of the warlike Shawanees; and that any day some party mightdiscover the caravan, and carry the news of their coming to the nearestIndian village.

  As yet they had really seen little of the red men. Twice hunters, whowere out securing fresh food for the party, had reported catchingglimpses of dusky figures darting in and out among the trees; but noattack had as yet been made upon any members of the little expedition.

  Bob and his brother were in the habit of going out on alternate days,and looking for game. As this was plentiful they had little trouble insecuring a deer whenever the larder got low.

  One day they had tramped ahead of the party, following the old buffalotrail which the horses would take as they came along and which ledwestward. In this way, if they secured game, it would not be necessaryto carry it far in order to join the others.

  As yet they had seen nothing worth shooting, when Sandy made the remarkwith which this chapter begins.

  His brother stared in his face, and there was a serious look in hiseyes, as he made answer.

  "Yes, I saw it; and I'm afraid it was an Indian, brother."

  "With feathers in his scalp-lock, which means war!" continued Sandy,who was always questioning Pat O'Mara, and hence had picked upconsiderable knowledge concerning the red men and their habits.

  Again did the two boys exchange uneasy looks.

  "Do you suppose he is alone?" whispered Sandy, presently.

  "Let us try to see. Raise your head, inch by inch, until you can lookover the tops of these bushes; but be careful," continued the other.

  Back to back they started to do this, intending to cover the entiresurrounding woods with a close scrutiny.

  Suddenly there was an odd twanging sound heard. Bob knew instinctivelythat it was the recoil of a bow-string, and he dragged his brother downinstantly.

  Then came a heavy thud close by their ears. Looking around, thebrothers saw a feathered shaft quivering, with its flint head buried inthe trunk of a tree.

  It was the first time in all their lives that either of them had beenunder fire. The mere thought that some human being was endeavoring todo them deadly injury caused a momentary thrill. But, in those earlydays, boys were made of sterling material; and, after that involuntaryshudder, they faced the danger resolutely, with a spirit that wouldhave well become their father.

  "We must get out of here," whispered Bob, as he prepared to crawl alongin the shelter of the bushes.

  "But which way?" demanded Sandy, confused; for how were they to knowjust where the unseen enemy might be hidden?

  "That arrow came from yonder; therefore we must turn the other way,"was the convincing argument Bob advanced, and his brother immediatelysaw the logic of it.

  Bob led the retreat, with Sandy trailing close at his heels. Each ladclutched his gun in a nervous grip, and strained his ears to catch theslightest suspicious sound near by.

  So they crept on, for ten minutes, without anything happening, and bydegrees Sandy felt his courage return. Perhaps, after all, there hadonly been a single savage; and, again, he may have been as frightenedas they were, making off immediately after discharging that lone arrow!

  Their hearts still beating faster than was their wont, the boys came tothe termination of the line of dense bushes. If they expected to go onfrom this point they must of necessity change their tactics entirely,and expose themselves to the gaze of any lurker.

  "Let's run for it!" suggested Sandy, at a loss for any other plan.

  "No, I have another idea," returned his resourceful brother.

  "Then let us have it, quick, Bob!" whispered the other, to whominaction was always more or less irksome.

  "You start off as though meaning to escape, dodging this way and that.He will perhaps believe that I was cut down by that hissing arrow.Then, if he shows himself, I can get him, perhaps," Bob ventured.

  Sandy fell in with the idea at once, although he realized the danger.

  "Give the word, then, Bob, and let me go. Anything is better than thissuspense," he said, immediately, starting to get on his feet.

  "If you hear me shout, drop flat," the elder brother said,impressively. "That will mean he is trying to shoot at you. And if youhear the report of my gun, seek shelter behind some tree."

  The last thing Sandy heard as he gained a half-erect position, andstarted off on a lope, was the click of Bob's gun-lock as he preparedfor business. No doubt the boy's heart was pounding like a hammer ashe thus exposed himself to the aim of an enemy; but, nothing daunted,he kept right on, looking to the right and to the left as he scurriedalong.

  And Bob, left behind amid the bushes, lifted his head slowly, so thathe could see all that transpired, a grim expression on his young face,such as the stern realities of those early days stamped upon many aboyish countenance.

  Ha! There was a movement not far away that his keen ear caught. Notturning his head a particle he twisted his eyes around to the left,and immediately discovered a bent figure that was skulking along, nowdodging behind a tree, and anon crouching flat, as Sandy threatened tolook around.

  It was an Indian, rigged out in all the horrid paint and feathers thatmarked a Shawanee brave on the warpath. He gripped a short, but stout,bow in his hands; and even as Bob caught sight of him seemed to befitting a feathered shaft to the tense gut that served as a cord.

  Undoubtedly it was his intention to shoot again, and this time, asSandy's back would be turned, there was a strong probability that thearrow might find a victim.

  Bob looked no further; his mind was made up, and, raising hisflint-lock musket to his s
houlder, he glanced hastily along the barrel.

  The red man was in the very act of letting fly his arrow when the bangof the heavily charged musket awoke the echoes of the forest. Sandy hadnot forgotten his part in the programme, for no sooner did he hear thatdischarge than he made a quick spring to a neighboring beech tree,back of which he crouched, ready to do his part in the game.

  The Indian fell down, but, immediately scrambling to his feet with awhoop, ran off like a frightened deer. He was holding his right arm ashe went, from which fact Bob gained the opinion that his hastily sentbullet must have struck that part of the enemy's anatomy.

  Then he vanished in the depths of the forest, while Bob reloaded asfast as he could work his hands.

  "Are there any more of them?" called Sandy, as he poked his gun outfrom behind the beech, ready to make use of the same at the slightestprovocation.

  "I do not think so," replied Bob, considerably relieved at notdiscovering a horde of dusky figures rushing toward them, as he hadfeared would be the case.

  Nor did they notice any signs of enemies around them. Sandy insistedupon going over to the spot where the Indian had dropped his bow andarrow, at the time he received Bob's bullet in his arm.

  "Some of them might refuse to believe that we had met a real Indian,and got the better of him," he said, after picking up his trophies;"but these will be the proof."

  "Let us go on," observed Bob, who had now finished the labor ofrecharging his gun.

  "Then you do not mean to give up looking for game?" asked Sandy,eagerly.

  "Why should we?" observed his brother, sturdily. "That Indian has runoff, and we need fear nothing further from him. Perhaps there is noother within miles of this spot, and we need fresh meat very much. Ifmy shot has not frightened everything away, we may get a chance at adeer yet."

  "Perhaps a buffalo!" remarked Sandy, with eagerness in his voice; foras yet no one in the company had been successful in shooting a specimenof those huge, shaggy monsters, about which they had heard so much, andwhose beaten trails they followed so persistently in making their way.

  They kept on, Bob careful all the while to observe the direction theytook, for he did not wish to get lost. He was moving up against thewind, so that even the most suspicious game might not scent theirpresence.

  "Look! What is that?" whispered Sandy, as they made their way througha screen of bushes, and some bulky object was observed trotting alongahead.

  "A buffalo at last! Get ready, and we will fire together!" said Bob,trying to stifle his excitement as he dropped on one knee, the betterto aim his gun.

  "Ready? Shoot!"

  The two reports sounded almost as one.

  "He went down! Oh! we got him!" shrilled the sanguine one, ready torush forward.

  "Hold on!" Bob quickly cried; "see, you're mistaken, for he hasscrambled to his feet. Wounded as he is, if he sees us there will betrouble. There, he is heading this way, Sandy! Jump for a tree, lad,jump for a tree!"