CHAPTER XXIV
KENTON'S LIFE WITH THE INDIANS
"MUST we wait for night to come, Bob, before we can make a move?"asked Sandy, as he and his brother sat back of the water curtain thatconcealed the wonderful cavern discovered by Simon Kenton.
"Why, what else could be done?" exclaimed Bob. "In the broad daylight,if we left this hiding-place, we might run across some hunting party ofSenecas; or, perhaps, a group of other Indians returning to their owncountry. What a calamity that would prove, Sandy!"
"Yes, I understand," the younger boy replied, with a heavy sigh; "buthow slowly the hours pass. They seem like lead to me. Every minutedrags as if it stood for ten. I've tried to sleep; but the terribleposition of our poor sister haunts me. And then I get to thinking offather. What if it was his party that the Indians attacked and killed."
"We can only hope on, and trust that all will come out well in theend," replied Bob, who only with a most determined effort was able tokeep from falling into the same despondent condition that Sandy showed.
Truth to tell, there was good reason for his courage to be put tothe test. By some accident Abijah Cook, the companion of Kenton onthis long and hazardous trip to the country of the Great Lakes, hadoverheard some Indians talking, while he lay concealed in a densethicket near the borders of the Seneca village.
Among other things which they discussed, was the information that aparty of palefaces travelling eastward had been taken by surprise, andutterly wiped out of existence. Their scalps even then adorned thelodge-poles of a Shawanee village far to the southeast.
It was true that the one who carried this news had claimed that theparty numbered a round ten, as many as the fingers on both hands, butBob knew how such a thing might easily be stretched in the telling,and, while he pretended to scoff at the idea of their father's littleparty having fallen victims to the treachery of the red men, deepdown in his heart he was conscious of a terrible chill every time histhoughts turned that way.
"But how is it we do not see our good friend, Blue Jacket?" continuedSandy. "He is not the one to desert us in such a terrible time as this."
"Never!" exclaimed Bob, positively. "Blue Jacket is faithful to thedeath. You do not see him just now because Kenton sent him to visit thevillage, and find out how the land lies."
"But dare he enter there, with Pontiac and all those other chiefs fromdistant tribes still present as guests of Kiashuta?" asked Sandy,puzzled.
"Why not," answered his brother, "when that is the very thing to makehis coming seem perfectly natural. Blue Jacket is known as a coming manin his tribe. Some day, if he lives, he will become famous, and, Sandy,although I am sorry to say it, outside of our family I do not believeBlue Jacket loves the whites any too much."
"No," declared Sandy, quickly; "he has lost several dear relatives bythe guns of the settlers. He was even engaged in trying to wipe outour little caravan at the time we saved his life, and won his eternalgratitude. I see now what you mean, Bob. He can enter the village ofthe Senecas, saying that he was on a mission for his far-away tribe,and, learning of the grand council, stopped to meet Pontiac."
"And to learn what the outcome of the grand palaver had been, so hemight carry the news with him to his own people. I think he must beknown to some of the other chiefs, who would vouch for him--Long Coat,the Delaware; Turtle Heart and Bald Eagle, of the same nation; and evenSilver Heels, who, like our friend, is a full-blooded Shawanee. I amonly worried about one thing, Sandy."
"Tell me what that may be, then," asked Bob's brother.
"When Blue Jacket comes face-to-face with Pontiac," the older pioneerboy went on, "will those far searching eyes of the great sachem lookdeep into his heart, and see that he has a double purpose in cominginto the village? They say he has terrible eyes, that can read thesecrets of the heart like the pages of a book."
"But Blue Jacket really has no cause for fear!" Sandy exclaimed. "Hisheart is with the plans of Pontiac, only, in this case, he would tryand save our little sister to us."
"But," Bob continued, shaking his head seriously, "think what wouldhappen to him if they knew he had been hidden in the sacred oak, andassisted two palefaces to overhear the council!"
"Well, they are not going to know that, for a while at least," declaredSandy; "unless one of our prisoners happens to get away. We must makesure that so great a disaster does not occur."
"Surely. But here is Simon Kenton coming to join us. I have wanted toask him many things about the village of the Senecas, where our Kate isa prisoner, and perhaps, while we sit here, waiting for Blue Jacket'sreturn, he may give us some account of what he has seen among thelodges of Kiashuta."
The borderer threw himself down beside them.
"What were you two talking about just now?" he remarked, smiling inhis pleasant way, for Kenton was a most agreeable young fellow, withwinning manners that made him many friends, even though Boone lookedupon him as a firebrand because of his extreme recklessness in fightingthe Indians.
"I was just saying to Sandy that, since you have been in the Senecavillage several times, you might tell us some of the things you sawthere. Is it a very large place; are the Senecas feeling bitteragainst the white settlers; and what do they do when not on thewarpath?"
"Both times that I was among the Seneca lodges it was in disguise,"smiled Kenton, always ready to give information when it lay in hispower. "A friendly Indian decked me out in paint and feathers, and, asI speak the language almost as well as one of the natives, I had littledifficulty. I was supposed to be a strolling Cayuga, and received assuch."
"But on this present expedition you did not venture to go in among thelodges, because of the added danger, I suppose?" Bob asked, deeplyinterested.
"Yes," Kenton continued; "one night we stole past the guard, andscouted around; but the dogs got scent of us, and we found it best toleave in a hurry. There was more or less of a row; but the Indiansdoubtless believed that it had only been some bold wild animal that hadinvaded the village in search of food. We easily covered our tracks,and, after that, decided to simply hang about, waiting for the comingof Pontiac."
"Then you could not know anything about our sister, or the location ofBlack Beaver's lodge?" asked Sandy, in a disappointed tone.
"That is true," came the hunter's reply; "but all that information weexpect the friendly Shawanee chief to pick up right now. He knows hisbusiness, and, depend on it, his report will cover the ground."
"I have always wanted to see the life of an Indian village," Bob wenton; "but so far the chance has never come. Sandy, here, was a prisoneronce in a Shawanee camp; but, as he was shut up in a wigwam until wemanaged to get him away, he saw little of what went on. As for me, Ionly had distant views of the place, and my curiosity was far fromsatisfied."
"And, on my part, I know the life of the Indian almost as well as I dothat of my own kind," said Kenton, thoughtfully. "Many times have Ispent a week among them, studying their ways, which have always had astrange fascination for me. Yes, one old chief was determined to adoptme, and I even had to steal away from his village as though I were athief. I have hunted with the red men; watched their several dancesin the seasons; learned many of their secret ways of curing skins,and drying meat for winter use; studied the magic that their medicinemen pretend to employ in healing the sick, and casting out devils byall sorts of incantations and rattling of sacred gourds. Once I evenassisted in securing the venom of the rattlesnake, which was to be usedin poisoning the flint arrowheads they expected to use against theirfoes."
"I have heard of that more than once, but never met any one who hadreally seen how it was done," exclaimed Bob.
"Then I will tell you," Kenton immediately remarked; "for, afterall, it is a very simple operation, though terrible enough. When allpreparations have been made an extra large rattlesnake is found andbrought to bay. As he rests in his coils they proceed to provoke him,by prodding with poles, until he is desperately angry, and launches hisflat head out again and again, while his rattles buzz l
ike a locust inthe bush."
"Oh! we have come across many a rattlesnake," observed Sandy, "and havefully a dozen rattles at home to show for it. But they always give mea creepy feeling. I just can't help jumping every time I hear thatdreadful warning."
"Having enraged the snake enough," Kenton went on, "a piece of liveris fastened to the end of a pole, and this is thrust up close to thecoiled rattlesnake, which strikes hard and often at the meat. Later onthis is allowed to turn green with the virus, and in this way a supplyof poison is secured. But we ought to feel glad, boys, that the customof poisoning arrows or spear points is as a rule frowned down upon bynearly all the tribes, as being too terrible. For, say what you will, Ihave found that there is a certain sense of honor among the redskins."
"Yes, we ought to be glad that is so," declared Bob. "I've known quitea few who received wounds from arrows shot from hickory bows in thehands of Indians, and, had the tips been dipped in poison, they wouldnot now be alive to tell the story."
"And I myself could show you marks where the feathered barbs have tornmy flesh," went on the young borderer, calmly. "After watching thatoperation with the serpent I was more than a little uneasy the nexttime I received a wound. But the red men themselves long ago frowneddown upon such a terrible process, so we have little to fear in thatquarter."
"Then it will be necessary, if Kate is rescued, that the village beentered under cover of darkness?" asked Bob.
"Without doubt that will be our plan," said Kenton. "I have beenthinking it over, and arrived at a conclusion."
"Oh! please let us hear it!" exclaimed Sandy, eagerly.
"We must wait for a windy night, as well as a dark one," thefrontiersman went on. "The wilder it is, the more chance we have forsuccess, because we must set fire to the lodges, and start a fierceblaze, so that during the excitement, the girl can be taken away. Afterthey have put out the flames the Indians may believe that Kate has justfled in fear of the danger."
"I understand what you mean," cried Sandy, "and it strikes me that itis a wonderful plan. It must succeed; only I'm sorry that we have towait. A windy night may be a long time in coming; and how can we holdback?"
"Oh! at this changing season of the year there are few times when thewind does not blow, more or less," returned Kenton, reassuringly."Perhaps it may be to-night for aught we know."
"Don't I just hope so," said the boy. "But I wish you would let us gowith you into the village."
"I'm afraid that might be taking too many risks," returned theborderer. "However, we will see, later on. At least, I mean to ask BlueJacket to help me rig both of you out in paint, so that, in case youare seen, discovery would not necessarily follow."
"Oh! we have more than once done the same ourselves, when playingIndian," said Bob, readily; "and it will not be so hard to carry outthe part. But I trust that we may be given a chance to see what thevillage of Kiashuta looks like, while we wait for you to set the fires,and carry our sister off."
"Sandy, if you do not mind, it is about time we had something to eat,"remarked Kenton, turning with one of his rare smiles to the youngerpioneer lad. "The fire is smoldering, and can be readily rekindled witha handful of small stuff. This inaction does not keep one from feelinghungry, it seems."
So Sandy, always ready to do his duty, scrambled to his feet, andstarted toward the other side of the wide cavern, stepping over thefigure of Abijah Cook, who was making up for lost sleep while he hadthe chance.
Pat O'Mara had gone off on a hunt for the day and had not returned.
Five seconds later and the voice of Sandy rang out in wild alarm.
"Bob! Kenton! make haste, or he will get away! It is Armand Lacroix,and he has slipped his bonds! See, he is making for the shelf! Oh! stophim, somebody!"
The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes; or, On the Trail of the Iroquois Page 27