Big Brother: A Story of Indian War

by George Cary Eggleston

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  WHICH ENDS THE STORY.

  "Something must be done," said Sam, as soon as he had heard Tom'sreport, "and quickly too. Let me think a few minutes. We are beginningnow to be hungry enough to eat anything, and when people get that hungrythere are a good many things that can be eaten. I'll tell you what wemust do, Tom--"

  But what it was that Sam had hit upon, Tom never knew. Just as thispoint in the conversation was reached _Joe_ came running in through thealley-way, his face flattened out into a broad grin of delight, histeeth and eyes shining, while he danced all over the fortress, shakinghands over and over again, and saying,

  "Hi! Miss Judie! Hi! Mas' Tom! Hi! Mas' Sam! How does ye all do now? Didyou think Joe had runned away? Joe tell ye he never runned away. Joeain't no runaway nigger, nohow at all, and de Ingins ain't ketched Joenuther. Joe's back all safe an' sound, sartin sure! Hi!"

  "What on earth ails you, Joe? You're out of your wits, poor fellow,"said Sam, convinced that the black boy was demented.

  "No I ain't nuther, Mas' Sam," he replied. "Joe ain't crazy one bit, buthe's glad _sure_."

  "Where have you been, Joe, since you left us?"

  "Whar? Why to de fort, an' I'se dun brung back a rescue too, didn't Itell you? Laws a massy, dat's what I comed in fust for to tell you. I'sedone been to Fort Glass and brung a big rescue party, and de white folksdey said, long as Joe brung us he's 'titled to tell de good news fust,an' dat's how I'm here while de rest is outside de drif'."

  "Go and see, Tom," said Sam, afraid to believe this story of theseemingly insane boy, who, he thought, had become crazed from longbrooding over the chances of rescue. Tom got up to go, but as he startedMr. Hardwicke himself met him in the door way and caught him in hisarms. Tandy Walker was just behind.

  "Well, this beats all," said Tandy. "I've done a good many jobs o'rescuin' in my time, but I never yit found the rescued hid in the rootsof a tree an' fortified with a drift-pile. An' if I'm a jedge o' sichthings, this here party's a'most starved. I've seed hungry people aforenow, an' I say le's have a breakfast sot right away for these herelittle ones."

  Tandy was right, as we know, and it was not long before an abundantbreakfast was spread for Sam and Tom and little Judie. The rescue partyconsisted of twenty stout fellows from the fort, and after breakfast arude litter was provided for Sam, and crossing the river in the littlecanoe the party began its homeward march. Tom was glad to walk, the walkbeing in that direction. Judie was carried, part of the time in herfather's arms, part of it in Tandy Walker's, and part on the broadshoulders of Caesar, the negro man who had participated in the canoefight. Sam was stretched on a litter, carried by four of the men, andJoe insisted on walking always by his side, though he fell behind nowand then for the purpose of dancing a little jig of delight. He wouldexecute this movement, and then running, catch up with the litter again.

  "Tell me, Joe," said Sam after the black boy had become somewhat quietagain, "tell me all about this thing."

  "'Bout what thing, Mas' Sam?"

  "About your going to the fort and all that. How did you manage it, andhow came you to think of it?"

  "Well, you see, Mas' Sam, when you was at your wust, I got a thinkin',an' I thought out a plan dat Mas' Tom said was a good un. Him an' me wasto make a raf' out'n cane, an' pole it up de river wid you an' littleMiss Judie on it, an' den I was to go cross de country to de fort an'bring help. Jes' as we got de raf' ready, howsomever, Mas' Tom he axedme if I know de way to de fort, an' as I didn't know nothin' 'bout it, Ijis' sot down an' gived up. But I kep' a thinkin' all de time, an' Isaid to myself, 'Joe, you're a fool anyhow, an' you mustn't tell yourplans till you know dey're good uns, an' you ain't got sense enough toknow dat till you try 'em.' An' so I sot my head to work to git up anew plan, meanin' to try it all by myself. When de big fight took placean' I seed the white folks marchin' away, I said out 'loud, 'dem darefolks is gwine right straight to de fort,' an' I said to myself, 'Imeans to go dere too if I kin.' It took me two days 'n more to git dething fixed up right in my min'.

  "I was willin' enough to risk Injuns, but I was afear'd you'n Mas' Tom'ud think Joe was a runaway nigger if I never comed back, an' dattroubled me. I fixed dat at las' by makin' Mas' Tom mos' swar he'd stickto it dat I wasn't no runaway nigger, an' den I sot out. I crossed deriver in de little canoe an' hid her in de bushes. I found de place wharde white folks started from, an' I jes' follered dere trail. Dat was myplan. I know'd dey would make a big easy trail, dere was so many of 'em,an I meant to follow 'em. It took me more'n two whole nights to git tode fort, dough, 'cause de creeks was all high an' de brush very tangley.When I tole de folks about you'n Miss Judie an' Mas' Tom, dey didn'tmore'n half believe me, an' when I tole 'em I'd lead 'em straight towhar you was, an' dey said dey'd sculp me if I didn't, I jest said allright, 'cause if we don' find Mas' Sam an' little Miss Judie an' Mas'Tom no more, den I'd rather be sculped'n not, anyhow. But we did fin'you, didn't we Mas' Sam?" and at this Joe had to drop behind again andexecute a rapid jig movement, as a relief to his feelings.

  * * * * *

  The government forces under General Jackson, together with the settlersthemselves, were now pressing the savages very hard. Battles were foughtalmost every day, and every battle weakened the Indians. In December,General Claiborne invaded the Holy Ground, and utterly destroyedWeatherford's command, as a result of which that chief surrendered toJackson and the war was practically at an end. A few more battles werenecessary before a final peace could be made, and the last of them wasfought on the 27th of March, 1814, at Horseshoe Bend; but after thebattle of December 23d a little more than a month after Sam's party wasrescued, the country north and west of the Alabama river wascomparatively free from savages, who no longer dared wander about insmall bands, plundering and burning houses, and the planters began toreturn to their homes to get ready for spring work.

  When Mr. Hardwicke was about to go home with his children, he sent forJoe. When the boy came, little Judie handed him a carefully foldeddocument, saying,

  "Here's a present for you, Joe.

  "What's dis?" asked Joe, unable to guess what possible use he could havefor such a paper as that, inasmuch as he couldn't read it to save hislife.

  "These are your _free papers_, Joe," said Sam. "Father has bought youfrom Mr. Butler, for the purpose of setting you free, as a reward foryour good conduct."

  Joe evidently wanted to say something, but did not know how.

  "Are you glad to be free, Joe?" asked Mr. Hardwicke.

  "Ain't I though?" and Joe's feet began to shuffle as if a jig werecoming in spite of his desire to behave well.

  "Well, Joe," said Mr. Hardwicke, "I mean to give you a fair chance inlife, and I've thought the matter over carefully. You are free now todo precisely as you please, and you can live where you like. But I've aproposition to make--a plan for you. Do you know my cypress farm,--thelittle one down in the fork of the two creeks?"

  "De one whar' ole uncle Peter Dun lived so long?"

  "Yes, the one uncle Peter manages for me."

  "Yes, master, I knows dat place mighty well."

  "Well, how would you like to buy it, Joe?"

  "Buy the farm, master? What's Joe got to buy wid? I ain't got no money,'thout it's a quarter Mas' Tandy Walker dun gim me fur to clean hisboots sence we comed back to de fort, an' I jest know that a quarterwon't buy no sich low grounds as dem dar down twix' dem dar creeks is.Dat's de very bes' lan' in Alabama. Leastways I dun hear de folks say'tis heaps o' times. You's jokin' wid Joe, master."

  "No, I am not, Joe. You can buy the land if you want it, and there are ahundred and ten acres in the tract, besides the strip of woods alongboth creeks."

  "How's I gwine to buy it, master?"

  "Well, let me see. You're about thirteen now. It will be nine years yetbefore you will be a man, and if you choose to live with me until youare twenty-one, I'll feed and clothe you till then, and the day you aretwenty-one the farm shall be yours in payme
nt of wages."

  "How you mean, master?"

  "I mean, that besides feeding and clothing you as I feed and clothe mypeople, I will give you the farm for your nine years' work. If you likethe place, I will have all the papers made out, so that the farm will beyours, even if I should die before the time is up. I have more land thanI care to keep, and you see I want to sell that one farm to you, ifyou'll buy it."

  "Looks to me, heap more like's if you was gwine to give it to me,master; dis on'y your fun to say I buy's it."

  "No, the bargain is a fair one, Joe. I could give you the farm now, butI think it will be better for you to work for it, and then you'll feelthat it's yours by right and not by favor. I want to make a man of you,Joe, and my children shall always think of you as one of their bestfriends. Go out of doors if you want to dance, Joe," seeing the feetbeginning to shuffle, and understanding the mingled joy andembarrassment of the boy.

  Joe hesitated a moment, and then with a sudden straightening of hisshoulders, as if the future manliness were already beginning to assertitself in him, he advanced to Mr. Hardwicke, and shaking his hand, said:

  "Joe ain't got no learnin' an' no manners nuther, master, but Joe's_grateful_ anyhow," and bursting into tears the boy left the room.

  THE END