CHAPTER V
FRIENDS IN TIME OF NEED
THERE was really nothing that could be done.
In a choice between two evils, Bob Armstrong could always be dependedon to take that which seemed the less. To go on down the flood was adreadful outlook; and almost anything was to be preferred to facingthe unknown perils of the river, especially in the pitch darkness thatprevailed.
The sound of the paddles drew constantly nearer. Then they heardvoices, as if those in the canoe were asking each other whence it couldbe that they had heard that last shout for help.
To the astonishment of the floating boys the words came in English,though evidently one of the speakers was an Indian who had apparentlylearned the tongue of the palefaces.
"Oh! it's Pat O'Mara, I do believe!" exclaimed Sandy, in his amazementspeaking loud enough for his voice to carry some distance away; forimmediately, even before Bob could add any words of his own to thedeclaration, there came a hail out of the gloom.
"Avast there! Be ye the Arrmstrong byes I'm afther hearin' out on thisroarin', tearin' flood this night?"
"Yes, yes, that's who it is, Pat; and precious glad to hear the soundof your voice, because we need help the worst way!" cried Sandy, alwaysimpulsive.
"All right, we'll be wid yees in a jiffy, depind on it," came theanswer from a point close at hand. "Give us another few digs at thepaddle, chief, an', by the same token, we'll soon be alongside, so wewill."
A minute later the anxious boys began to detect some moving object,as they strained their eyes to see. Then this turned out to be a longcanoe, in which two persons were sitting, the one in the stern usinga paddle with that grace and dexterity which only an Indian couldexhibit, just as Bob had wisely said.
Sandy craned his head forward to see better through the darkness.Doubtless there must have been something familiar about the movementsof this paddler, for he certainly did not have enough light torecognize his features, or even the feather that adorned his scalplock.
"Surely that must be Blue Jacket!" he ejaculated, with a thrill ofdelight, as well as surprise noticeable in his quivering voice.
"Uh! that so, Sandy," came in a voice he knew almost as well as he didthat of his brother.
"What luck!" cried Sandy. "To think that such good friends shouldhappen to be on the river this night of all times, when we are in suchsore need."
Perhaps, had Bob Armstrong been asked his opinion, he might havedeclared that it was something much higher than mere luck that broughtabout such a happy conclusion to their adventure. Bob was a muchmore serious fellow than his younger brother, and imbibed some ofthe sentiments that influenced his gentle mother. To him there wassomething especially Providential in this coming of help when the twoboys were in so great need, just as there had been in the falling ofthe dead tree just as the panthers were about to attack them.
Quickly the canoe worked up alongside the log, to which both the Irishtrapper and his native companion fastened a firm grip.
"Come aboord, and be sinsible," said Pat O'Mara, who was one of theoldest friends the Armstrong family had; and whom they had known awayback in Old Virginia, before the thought of daring the perils of theunknown wilderness had ever entered David Armstrong's mind. "Sure,'tis a mighty poor sort av a craft ye do be havin', if I might make sobowld."
"But it was better than nothing," said Sandy, as he carefully placedhis musket in the canoe before even thinking of attempting to getaboard himself.
Bob did not make a single move until he had seen his brother safelyover the side. Indeed, to judge from his actions, one might be inclinedto think that he even kept himself in readiness to clutch Sandy, shouldthe other manage to slide down the side of the log into the water,instead of gaining a lodgment in the boat. Then Bob copied the other'sactions, his precious gun being first made secure before he would thinkof himself.
It was rather a ticklish business leaving the log, and entering thecanoe that, being made of birch bark, was so light in build that itcareened under the passage of the boys, and might have tipped over hadnot both Pat and the young Shawanee brave leaned far to the oppositeside while the embarkation was taking place.
"Good-bye, old log!" said Sandy, now in an exultant frame of mind thatcontrasted strangely with his recent gloomy spirits. "We hope you willhave a good voyage down to the great Mississippi. Tell them that,perchance, the Armstrong boys will be navigating that way to see someof the wonders they have so long been hearing about. You were a prettyfair kind of a log, though we are not sorry to part with you."
Already was the paddle, in the expert hands of Blue Jacket, busilyemployed in sending the craft toward the southern shore of the swollenriver. Pat O'Mara had his share of curiosity, and he was not the one tokeep silent when desirous of knowing the true facts.
"Sure, 'tis a quare thing to be findin' the two av yees adrift on atree out on this high water," he started to say; "and, by the sametoken, if yees have no objection, 'tis mesilf wud like to know how thesame came about."
"That is easy enough to tell, Pat," burst out Sandy. "Of course, youmustn't think we started from the shore, to cross over on an old log.It was just an accident, and that's all. My paddle broke under thestrain; and, when this log came whirling down on our boat, Bob alonecould not get it out of the way. So it was upset, and we were luckyenough to scramble aboard, guns and all."
The Irish trapper was loud in his exclamations of wonder.
"It do bate iverything how ye two lads always manage to chate theould Reaper whin he thinks he has ye in the hollow av his hand," hedeclared. "I warrant ye that nine out av tin min would have at lastetaken a dip in the water afore crawling aboord the log; and, be thepowers, ye do not same to be wit at all, at all."
"We were wondering how we could manage to get ashore, so as to head forhome," Sandy went on to say, "when Bob thought of a way. Just when weheard your answer to our last shout we were about to fasten our gunsand clothing to the log, slip overboard, and, by swimming, push ittoward the shore."
"A cliver ijee, by me troth," remarked Pat, who was a great admirer ofboth young pioneers; of Bob on account of his steady ways and quickmind in emergencies, and of Sandy because he had a winning, sunnydisposition, which appealed especially to the genial, roving Irishtrapper. "But, afther all, 'tis just as will that Blue Jacket andmesilf came upon the sane at the time we did, since 'tis a wet backye'd be havin', not to spake of many miles more to thramp back home.And 'tis also will that ye are off the river before this same night ismany hours older."
Bob noticed that there was a peculiar significance to these last wordsof their old friend, who had been many times tried, and found as trueas steel.
"What brings you and Blue Jacket here, and on your way to our cabin,as I reckon you are from the way you head across the river?" he asked,desirous of drawing the other out, and learning what new peril nowthreatened the little settlement on the southern bank of the Ohio.
More than once had Pat brought news of the coming of Indians on thewarpath, so that the pioneers had learned to look upon him as theirbest guardian. As he was forever roaming the great forests, sometimesin the company of such noted men as Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton orHarrod the surveyor, Pat was in a position to pick up intelligencethat could be obtained by no one else. (Note 4.)
And so Bob wondered whether it could be something of this characterthat was now causing him to hasten to the relief of the strugglingsettlement.
"Sure, 'twas by sheer accident that we came togither," the trapperobserved, as he bent his supple body quickly to one side, so as tobetter balance the frail canoe, which at that instant was beingbuffeted about in a swirl of waters, not unlike a miniature whirlpool."An', whin I larned that the chief was aven thin on his way to warrnthe white settlers as fast as he could go, I made up me mind toaccompany him. So that's how it happens we wor abroad on the river jistat the same time ye naded hilp so bad. Troth, as Sandy jist said, 'twasa lucky thing all around."
"But, Pat," Bob continued, "of what danger was Blue
Jacket about towarn our people? Have the Indians again taken to the warpath, aftertheir professions of peace, and after saying that the hatchet wasburied ever so deep?"
"Sure, there be always danger av that same," remarked the other,grimly; "but, on this occasion, 'tis a peril av another colorintirely. The flood is bearin' down upon yees like a race horse, and,befoor the dawn av another day, it may be the risin' water wull beafther swapin' away some av the cabins in the settlement!"
"Oh! but how could Blue Jacket learn about that, when it must be manymiles up the river, and coming much faster than any Indian could run?"demanded Sandy.
"Ye must know," went on the Irish trapper, impressively, "that theserid hathen have a way av communicatin' news by manes av smoke signalsin the day time, and fires at night. From hill to hill, many milesaway, they sind these smokes; and, so I've been towld at laist, themissage can be carried as much as a hundred miles in less time than itwud take a horse to run tin."
"Yes, that is something I knew about, but had forgotten," admittedSandy.
"And this flood, does it come from the last rain, or has there beenwhat I heard my father call a cloud-burst?" asked Bob, anxiously; forhis thoughts were upon the little community some miles up the river,which had already grappled with more perils than the settlers had everdreamed could be met with in this new country.
"That I do not chanct to know, me bye," replied Pat. "'Tis enough tolearn that the flood is comin' tearin' along down the river, and thatthe water will rise in a way niver known before. The Injuns are wildwith alarrm. Their ould medicine-min do be on the rampage, and kapetillin' thim they do be sufferin' from the anger av the Great Spirit,becase av their allowin' the white trispassers till remain on thesacred land that was given till their ancestors long years ago. It allmanes hapes av trouble for the pioneers, from Boonesborough till FortWashington, and all the way along the Ohio."
"I can see the shore again," called out Sandy at this moment; for,while he had been listening with deep anxiety to what the trapper said,at the same time his keen young eyes had been on the watch to detectthe first signs of land ahead.
A minute later, and Sandy again broke out with an exclamation, and thistime there was a note of wonder, not unmixed with anxiety, in his voice.
"Look! there is a fire burning on the shore below, and just aboutwhere we will come to the land!" he cried out.
"And I can see one or two white men beside it; yes, with an Indianalso," added Bob, who had as sharp vision as his brother.
"And they must hear us talking, for they have jumped to their feet, andseem to be looking this way. Can it be some of our friends from above,brother?" asked the younger boy, eagerly.
"I do not think so," Bob answered. "They are not in the broad firelightnow; but, from the glimpse I had, I took them to be woodrangers likePat here, and some of the others we know."
"Oh! perhaps, then, it may be Boone and Kenton themselves," remarkedSandy, who had secretly always admired the forest ranger, Kenton, andaspired to follow in the footsteps of the daring young man, when hegrew older.
"Well, we shall soon know," Bob went on, "for Blue Jacket is headingstraight in to that point where they have built their fire, as thoughhe means to land on the lower side, where the current does not run sofiercely."
Already they were in less turbulent waters, for, near the shore, theriver did not attain anything like the swiftness that marked the middleof the stream. Under the skillful guidance of the sturdy young Shawaneebrave, whose name, although not very well known just then, was fatedlater on to be on the lips of every settler who had built a cabin inthe wilderness along the Ohio, the canoe presently came against theshore.
Sandy, as usual, was the first to jump on to the bank; but he wascareful to take his gun along with him. The Irish trapper quicklyreached his side, and then came Bob, and the dusky Blue Jacket, whocertainly could never be accused of being a talkative fellow, thoughcapable of expressing himself freely on occasion.
As if instinctively they allowed the young Shawanee to lead theway toward the burning campfire, because the presence of an Indianwould seem to indicate that he might be better able to conductthe intercourse with the strangers; for already Bob and Sandy haddiscovered that the two white men were totally unknown to them.Besides, since it was Blue Jacket's canoe, he seemed to be conductingthe expedition to the settlement, the others having just been taken onas he happened to come across them.
But Bob Armstrong felt a new uneasiness creep over him when he heardthe Irish trapper mutter something half under his breath, and caughtthe one significant word:
"Traitor!"
The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi; or, The Homestead in the Wilderness Page 8