CHAPTER III
THE BEE TREE
SOME of the more impetuous among the settlers began immediately to drawback the hammers of their muskets; and one man even threw his gun tohis shoulder, as if eager to be the first to fire at the Indians.
But David Armstrong immediately pushed against him, so that his purposewas frustrated.
"What would you do, hothead?" demanded Mr. Armstrong. "They are so faraway that your ammunition would only be wasted. Look again, and youwill see that there are only four in all. Besides, they have theirhands raised in the air, with the palms extended toward us. That meansthey would talk. It is the same as if they carried a white flag intoken of amity. Let no one fire a shot."
"But at the same time be on your guard against the treacherous hounds,men!" called out Captain Brady, himself the most inveterate haterof Indians in the entire colony, and never willing to trust one whocarried a copper-colored skin.
Slowly the four red men advanced, continuing to hold up their hands.Evidently they wondered at seeing so great a number of armed whitesclustered before the stockade. And the clanging of the bell must havebewildered them, since possibly it was the very first time such a soundhad ever been heard by any of the quartette.
"We should not allow them to come too near," one man suggested,cautiously.
"True," called out Brady. "And an equal number of our men shouldadvance to meet them. Armstrong, do you and Reuben, together withBrewster and Lane, step out. We will cover you with our guns. They havelaid their bows and tomahawks down on the ground; but look out fortreachery. Should you hear me shout, drop down on your faces, for wewill sweep them out of existence with one volley!"
The two boys watched the little squad meet the four Indians, and enterinto a powwow with them. Much of the conversation had to be carriedon through gesture, since only old Reuben could understand the Indiantongue. But it was evident that the newcomers meant to be friendly, andwere not the advance couriers of a band bent on burning the post.
Presently David beckoned to Captain Brady, and, as the otherapproached, he observed:
"They do not mean us any harm. On the contrary this young chief, whosays his name is Black Beaver, wishes to trade some skins he has fortobacco. They have been south in Kentucky attending a grand council,and are on the way home to their village. He also wished to secure asmall amount of meal if we can spare it. And, Captain, since we wishpeace with all the tribes, I have promised to obtain these things forhim."
When they heard this the men set up a shout, such was the great reliefthey experienced after the recent scare. Still, the cautious Bradywarned them against being too positive.
"How do we know whether they are deceiving us?" he said, coldly; for hecould not bear to be friendly with any Indian. "Perhaps they are evennow carrying the scalps of our neighbors, the Bancrofts?"
"Not so, Captain, you wrong them," said David, hastily; "for yondercome those you mention, and apparently none the worse for their delayin starting."
After that there was no reasonable excuse for prolonging the matter;and so by degrees the settlers made their way back to their varioushomes. The Indians were treated well, and sent on their way with asupply of tobacco and a measure of meal, which latter David Armstronghimself supplied.
But little work was done the balance of that day. The result of thefright occasioned by this, the very first ringing of the alarm bell,made every one more or less nervous. Mrs. Armstrong would not even hearof the two boys starting out to hunt in the afternoon, as they hadplanned.
"We'd better put it off till to-morrow, Sandy," remarked Bob, when hesaw how the recent excitement had affected his mother's nerves.
"I suppose so," replied the younger lad, with regret in his voice."But I had just set my heart on trying to find that bee tree. We sawthe little fellows working in Kate's flower garden, and flying offwith their honey. Just think what a fine thing it would be, Bob, if wecould learn where their storehouse is, and cut down the tree! Wouldn'tmother's eyes just dance to see the piles of combs full of sweetness,perhaps enough for the whole winter?"
"That's a fact," admitted Bob, his own eyes shining with eagerness asSandy thus painted such a pleasant picture. "But it will keep, I guess,till to-morrow. We ought to get done with our task early in the day,and then for the woods. You know there is not a great stock of meathandy, except that jerked venison that neither of us like very well.I'd enjoy something like a saddle of fresh venison myself."
And so the more impulsive brother found himself compelled to bow tocircumstances, always a difficult task with Sandy.
During the afternoon the young pioneers busied themselves in variousways, for there were always plenty of things to be done--water to becarried from the spring, wood for the fire to be cut and hauled closeto the door, some of the first pelts which the boys had taken in theirrusty traps to be attended to in the curing; the garden to be weeded;and so it went on until the descending sun gave warning that anothernight was close at hand.
Sandy had taken an hour off to go fishing in the near-by river.As usual he brought back enough of the finny prizes to afford theArmstrong family a bountiful meal that night. From woods and watersthey were accustomed to take daily toll, as their needs arose; nor wasthere likely to be any scarcity of food so long as hostile Indians gavethe new settlement a wide berth.
Bob came upon his brother as he was returning to the cabin with abucket of water. Sandy was almost through cleaning his fish, and theolder boy naturally stopped a minute to comment on their fine size.
"I was just thinking, Bob," remarked the worker, with a shake of hishead, "that perhaps we might see those same Indians again some fineday."
"What makes you say that?" asked the older lad, quickly; for he knewthat Sandy must have something on his mind to speak in this strain.
"I think I feel a little like Captain Brady does about Indians," Sandyreplied, "and that they are treacherous. Somehow, I just can't trustthem, and that's the truth of it."
"Oh! but how about Blue Jacket? Didn't he prove that he was a truefriend to us?" demanded Bob.
The young Indian to whom he referred was a Shawanee brave who had beenwounded in the fight the settlers had had just before arriving at theriver. The boys had found him desperately hurt, and had cared for him,even saving his life when the irate Captain Brady wanted to have the"varment" killed as he would a snake.
In return Blue Jacket had assisted in the rescue of the Armstrong boyswho had fallen into the hands of the Indians.
"That's true, Bob," responded Sandy, readily enough. "Blue Jacket isour friend, but he's the only wearer of a red skin that I would trust.Now, of course, you're wondering what ails me. I'll tell you. I didn'tlike the way that young Delaware chief looked at our pretty littlesister, Kate!"
"What's that you are saying?" demanded Bob, frowning.
"I saw him, if you didn't," continued Sandy, stubbornly. "He keptlooking at her every little while even as he talked; for, you know,some of the women and girls came out of the stockade to look at theIndians. I tell you plainly that my finger just itched to touch thetrigger of my gun when I saw him staring at Kate like that."
"But--he walked over here with us to get the measure of meal fatherpromised to give him, without accepting any pay?" Bob went on, as ifhardly able to credit the grave thing his brother was hinting at.
"Yes, and I kept just behind him all the time," Sandy went on, "with mygun in my hands. I think he noticed me after a while, for he stoppedlooking. But I wouldn't trust that heathen further than I could seehim."
"Well, they have gone away," said Bob, as though that settled it.
"How do you know that?" questioned Sandy.
"Secretly, acting under orders from Captain Brady, old Reuben followedthem for three miles, keeping himself hidden all the while. He reportedthat they had surely kept straight on, secured a canoe just where theysaid they had hidden one, and paddled across the river, landing on theother shore, and disappearing in the forest."
"But Black
Beaver plans to come back some day," Sandy continued, as hearose; "I could see it in his eyes. And I mean to warn mother, so thatshe can keep Kate from wandering away from home so much. If ever I seethat Delaware chief sneaking around here it will be a bad day for him."
"We called them Delawares, but old Reuben says now he made a mistake,and that they belong to the Iroquois. He told me that Black Beaver wasa chief among the Senecas, and that his home was far away toward theGreat Lakes."
"That may be so," remarked the unconvinced Sandy, starting toward thecabin, for evening was not far away, and he already inwardly feltclamorous demands for the appetizing supper that would soon be on thefire. "But even if he lives hundreds of miles away he can come back,can't he? He has made the journey once, why not again?"
Bob knew that, when once his brother got an idea into his head,argument was next to useless; so he wisely let the matter drop. Hehimself was not altogether convinced that they had seen the last of theproud young chief, though he hardly anticipated that it would be Kate'spretty face that might draw Black Beaver south again.
Many of the settlers passed an uneasy night; but there was no alarm.Talking the matter over among themselves, some of the men had arrivedat the conviction that these representatives of the Iroquois may havebeen attending one of those great meetings which were being engineeredby the Pottawottomi sachem, Pontiac, looking toward a combination ofmost of the various tribes, by means of which the French in the farNorth would be assisted, and the English settlements through Ohio,Kentucky, and along the Great Lakes be wiped out.
If this were indeed the truth, then Black Beaver had professed afriendship that he really did not feel, since he must have been formingsome league with the warlike and merciless Shawanees, under suchleaders as the detested renegade, Simon Girty, of whose cruel deedshistory has told.
When the morning finally arrived without any sign of trouble, evengentle Mary Armstrong seemed to have recovered from her nervousness.She assented to the wish of the boys to go forth, and see what theycould do in the way of securing fresh food. Before leaving, Sandycautioned his mother about Kate, for he could not forget the covetouslooks which the painted young chief had cast toward his pretty littlesister, child though she was, being not more than twelve years of age.
"Be sure and fetch an ax along, Sandy," said Bob, just as they wereready to start forth, with guns fastened over their shoulders by meansof straps. "But, if you can help it, don't let mother see you. Shewould think it strange that we carried such a thing on a little huntfor a deer."
"But what if we succeed in locating the bee tree, and cut it down; howare we to carry the honey home?" asked Sandy.
"Time enough for that when we have won out," replied Bob, with a laugh."Besides, I don't think we'll be more than a quarter, or at most athird of a mile away from home, unless the little insects are huntingat a longer distance than they generally do, as Pat O'Mara told me."
"Have you got the sugar and everything along?" questioned Sandy.
"Of course. I'd be a pretty chap to go off unprepared, wouldn't I? Now,watch your chance, and sneak the ax off. We'll surely need it to chopthe tree down,--if we find it," Bob concluded.
But his sanguine brother never doubted in the least that success wasbound to attend their efforts. He went into everything he did with thesame enthusiasm and confidence.
Ten minutes later the boys were in an open glade not a great distanceaway from the Armstrong cabin. Here flowers grew in profusion, evenat this late day in the season; and Kate was in the habit of comingout to pick great bunches of the pretty posies, for she loved to seethem around the humble cabin, brightening things with their color, andsweetening the atmosphere with their perfume.
Even in those days the methods of bee hunters did not differ very muchfrom those which are in vogue in the woods to-day. The Irish trapperhad posted the Armstrong boys as to the way in which a bee tree couldbe discovered, once busy little workers were found loading up withhoney in the flowers or blossoms.
First of all the boys hunted until they discovered where some of thewild bees were busily engaged. Honey was not so plentiful at thisparticular season of the year; and, when Bob made a little sirup outof some yellow sugar he had been wise enough to fetch along, a bee wasquickly attracted to the feast.
When he had loaded himself down with the spoils, and was preparing tofly away, Bob dextrously caught the little fellow. Taking care not tobe stung he succeeded in attaching a long white thread to the bee'sbody, in such a way that it would not interfere with his flying, yetcould be seen for quite a distance.
Then the captive was released. As is universally the case, the beearose in the air, and made a straight fly for the hive! That is wherethe phrase "a bee-line" originated.
"Watch him now, Sandy!" called Bob, as he liberated the prisoner.
"All right," answered his brother, eagerly. "I can see him still; andhow he does spin along. There, he has disappeared now, right beyondthat big poplar yonder. Do we go there next time, Bob?"
"Yes," came the reply; "that gives us a start, and will bring us justso much nearer the hive. Then we must catch another bee, and repeat thejob. And, as we may not find as many of them, once we enter the woods,we will put several in this little bottle I've brought along with me."
This was easily accomplished; after which they walked over to wherethey had obtained the very last glimpse of the laden worker.
"We've got the line now," remarked Bob; "and can even go further intothe woods, keeping on a straight road. But, for fear that we mayovershoot the mark, suppose we make another trial right here."
"Just as you say, Bob," returned Sandy. "You got Pat to tell you lotsof things he wouldn't repeat for me. I wonder could it be that leaningtree through there. Seems to me that might be a fine old hive, for itlooks hollow enough."
"But you remember Pat said they don't often select a _dead_ tree. Itmight blow down, and spoil their stock of honey," his brother went onto say.
"But they do find a hollow, don't they?" Sandy inquired.
"Yes; usually the top of a tree that has a hole in it, or a big limb.They are wise enough to know that the rain must be kept out, and alsothat certain wild animals are mighty fond of honey. Now, here goes,Sandy. Watch close--there!"
Again Bob cast the gorged prisoner free, and the little insect, afterseveral vain efforts, managed to mount upward on sagging wings and makeoff.
This time as before they marked the last appearance of the laden honeybee, and then a third trial was made. When a fourth and a fifth drewthem still deeper into the forest Sandy began to grow much excited. Hekept looking all around him while his brother carried out the importantoperation of coaxing the bee to accept a cargo of sugar sirup in theplace of the scarce nectar in the flowers.
All at once Bob looked up.
"Hark!" he exclaimed.
Sandy at once made a move as though about to sling his gun around fromhis back. Then he saw the smile on his brother's face; and, suspectingthe truth, cocked his own head in a listening attitude.
"I hear it!" he exclaimed, his whole face lighting up. "Nothing but thehum of a hive of bees could make that noise, Bob, could it?"
"Look up into that sycamore tree and tell me if you can't see themflying around? Those must be the young ones trying their wings. Patsaid they came out every fine day, and buzzed about. He told me he hadfound more than one bee tree just by tracing the sound. Once heard inthe quiet forest it can never be forgotten."
"Hurrah! then we've traced the little rascals to their house!" criedSandy, as he threw his gun aside, and, clutching the ax, steppedforward to strike the first blow toward cutting down the big tree inwhich the bees had their hive.
Bob did not try to discourage him, for he knew that when some of thisenthusiasm had died away his turn at the chopping would arrive.
And sure enough it did; for Sandy gave out before a quarter of the taskhad been completed, though later on he would recover his breath andshow a willingness to go at it again.
&n
bsp; Both lads knew just how to chop a tree so as to lay it where theywished, and, having chosen the best place to throw the big sycamore,they kept hacking away with steady strokes, making the chips fairly flyin showers.
The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes; or, On the Trail of the Iroquois Page 6