CHAPTER VI
SIMON GIRTY, THE RENEGADE
"WHO are they, Pat?" asked Bob, half under his breath, as he saw BlueJacket gravely salute the other Indian, whom he knew to be a chiefamong the fierce Miamis, both by the feathers he wore in his scalplock,and by the trimmings on his buckskin hunting shirt and nether garments.
"The Injun is Little Turtle, the greatest chief among the Miamis,"replied the Irish trapper, also lowering his voice, for he saw the twowhite men frowning in his direction. Bob noticed that his old friendkept his long-barrelled rifle close under his arm, and his fingertouching the trigger.
"And the two others?" Bob went on. "I have never met either of thembefore, that I can remember; and yet I have seen most of the white menwho roam the woods in this region of the Ohio."
"Wull," whispered Pat, "ye niver missed much, thin, for, by the sametoken, there niver lived greater rascals than the same precious pairye say before yees this minute. The wan ag'inst the tree, wid the scowlon his black face, is none ither than the infamous Simon Girty; whilehis frind's name it do be McKee; and there are hapes av people thot sayhe be the blackest renegade that iver wint over till the Injuns, towage war on his own kind." (Note 5.)
Both boys heard what Pat said, although he had lowered his voice to awhisper; and, of course, they were chilled to the marrow at the idea oflooking upon such notorious persons, for already their names were beingheld up to execration among all honest settlers. Both Girty and McKeehad been seen in the ranks of the hostile Shawanees when attacks weremade on frontier settlements; and there were threats going the roundsas to what fate awaited them should the fortunes of war ever throw theminto the hands of the whites.
To the eyes of the pioneer boys they looked doubly ugly on this night,when met so unexpectedly in company with a noted Miami chief, whosehostility towards the invading palefaces was so well known.
Meanwhile the two Indians were engaged in a conversation that bydegrees became more and more heated. Indeed, neither Bob nor Sandycould ever remember seeing their young friend, Blue Jacket, quite soworked up. He made dramatic gestures when he talked, and seemed to bereplying to the taunts of the older chief.
It began to look as though there might be trouble, and Sandy fingeredthe lock of his gun, taking a sly look down to make sure that therewas powder in the pan, for the spark from flint and steel to reach, incase it became necessary for him to depend on a quick discharge of themusket.
"What are they talking about, Pat?" asked Sandy; for he knew that theIrish trapper was able to follow what the two Indians said in theirwarm discussion.
"Sure, thot scum av the aarth, Little Turtle, do be taunting BlueJacket wid bein' frinds-like wid the palefaces," the other replied,cautiously, keeping one eye all the while upon the pair of treacherousrenegades, whom he would not trust for a single second to get behindhis back. "He tills him thot ivery ridskin ought to be the mortual foeav the palefaces who would stale their land away from thim. He kapeson sayin' thot he hates the white men as hotly as the sun shines insummer, and will niver, niver make frinds wid the same." (Note 6.)
"But, no matter what he says, it will not cause Blue Jacket to turnagainst the Armstrong family, even if he some day takes up the hatchetagainst the whites," Sandy went on to say, with a confidence born ofan intimate acquaintance with the young Shawanee brave, whose name wasalso fated to figure in the history of the times.
"Av yees could but hear what he do be sayin' this blissed minit,"declared Pat, "sure, it's on a good foundation ye build yer faith.Listen to him till that he was sore wounded, and how ye two byes didbring him intil yees own wigwam, h'alin' his hurts, so that instead avdyin' he lived. Now, it is av thot same kind mither av yees that hedo be spakin', and how she bound up his bullet wound wid salve, an'trated him as though he might be her own boy. For thot he can niver beanything but the frind av the Arrmstrong family. An' already has heparrt convinced Little Turtle, becase, ye know, gratitude is the bisttrait av the ridskins."
"But now the other seems to be changing his talk, and appealing to himin another way. Tell us what he is saying, Pat, please," insisted Sandy.
The Irish trapper listened for a minute, and then nodded.
"That wor a cliver shot av Blue Jacket, on me worrd," he muttered."Yees say, the ould chief he do be tillin' him that his brothers, theShawanees, are always on the warpath aginst the palefaces; and that,while it may be all right for him to keep frinds wid yer family, heought to take up arrms aginst the rist av the sittlement. But BlueJacket replied by tillin' him av what ye byes did for the great sachem,Pontiac, only last autumn, and what it meant for the sacred wampum beltof the same to be hangin' in the Arrmstrong cabin."
"Oh! yes," Sandy went on; "that ought to convince Little Turtle thatPontiac is the friend of our settlement, just because we live there;and an injury to one would be an injury to all. All these months, now,while other places have been attacked, there has come no evil againstour neighbors. Much though they feared the coming of the Indians, notonce has a hostile shot been fired since that day when Pontiac gave ushis wonderful belt."
"Do you notice, Pat," remarked Bob just then, in a whisper intendedonly for the ears of the one he addressed, "that the man you calledSimon Girty is edging off to the left, a little at a time? I do notlike the look in his eye. He scowls as though he meant us harm."
"'Tis mesilf that do be after watchin' the sarpint av the forest,"replied the trapper. "And yees spake rightly whin ye say he has evilin his mind; but me finger is on the trigger, an', be the powers, wanhostile move on his parrt manes for me to fire. I cud hit the eye av arid squirrel at this distance, and surely must find his black heart widme bullet."
He spoke louder than before, and for a reason. Evidently his words musthave reached the ear of the renegade, for he no longer tried to keep onmoving, a little at a time, toward the left. Doubtless Girty knew wellwhat a splendid shot Pat O'Mara was; and also that the trapper wouldwillingly rid the border of such a pest, if given half an excuse.
The two Indians had by this time come to an understanding. What BlueJacket had told concerning the gratitude of Pontiac, and the bestowingof his wampum belt on the young pioneers, because of their savinghis life, must have impressed the Miami chief greatly. At that timePontiac's name was one to conjure with among the confederated red menof the region lying between the Alleghenies and the Mississippi; whileLittle Turtle had not yet come to the zenith of his fame.
Turning to his white allies the Miami chieftain spoke in a rapid tone.Although Bob could understand only a word or two, nevertheless hegrasped the meaning of what Little Turtle said; and knew that he waswarning Girty and McKee not to think of injuring either of the boys whohad been taken under the especial protection of Pontiac, the masterschemer.
"Are they going to let us pass on, or do they mean to start a fight?"asked Sandy, whose manner showed that he was by no means averse totrying conclusions with the two ugly desperadoes who had thrown theirfortunes in with the Indians, so that they could no longer find afriendly greeting at the cabin of a single white settler.
"No danger of our being halted," Bob hastened to reply, fearful lestthe impulsive Sandy might attempt some sort of play that would openhostilities, when there was no necessity.
"Come, we'd bist be on our way, av we hope to rach the sittlementbefore the flood arrives," said Pat, beginning to retreat, stillkeeping watch on the renegades; for no white man who had his sensesabout him would ever be so foolish as to turn his back on such atreacherous snake in the grass as Simon Girty.
They were soon far enough away from the camp to feel safe, especiallysince the keen eyes of Blue Jacket saw that not one of the three whomthey had left there had made any move toward following them.
"How is your ankle going to hold out, Sandy?" asked Bob, who feared theworst.
"It's just got to do," was the determined reply. "I mean to go on untilI drop; but I shall keep up with you. If the worst comes, you can leaveme behind somewhere, and the rest push on, for, unless the war
ning isreceived, our people may be caught asleep in their cabins, and carriedaway, like that log was."
Sandy was possessed of considerable grit, inherited from his sturdyScotch ancestors, no doubt. When he set those teeth of his firmlytogether it meant that he was just bound to do, or die. And in many atight hole that stubborn trait served him a good turn, just as it hadalso gotten the boy into heaps of trouble.
When he limped, Bob threw an arm around him; or it might be the genialtrapper gave him such assistance as lay in his power. Indeed, deepdown in his own mind, though he did not say as much, Pat O'Mara wasdetermined that if he had to take the lame boy upon his broad back, asan Indian squaw would her little papoose, he was bound to see to itthat Sandy reached his home with the rest of them.
But Blue Jacket was familiar with every trail of the forest. He couldlead them over cut-offs that even the trapper did not know and whichsaved many a weary step.
The boys began to recognize their surroundings after a while, althoughthe night was so dark that only the general conformation of the countrycould be noticed.
"We're getting there, Bob," said Sandy, hopefully.
"To be sure we are!" declared the other. "See, that must be the tree weshot the wildcat from, when he was eating the mink taken from our trap."
"And that means only another mile or so to go before we reach home,"remarked the younger boy gladly; for Sandy was fast reaching a pointwhere even his remarkable grit could not carry him along, and he mustadmit defeat.
But every step he knew took him that much closer to home. Even thethought of his mother and father, as well as Kate, anxiously awaitingnews of the two who had crossed the raging river on the precedingafternoon, buoyed him up, and lent him new strength.
By degrees they were coming near the settlement. This had been builtalong a small elevation on the bank of the Ohio, from which thepioneers were afforded a magnificent view up and down the river. At thetime of its selection by Daniel Boone, who had long admired the site asan ideal place for a growing town, no one had so much as dreamed thata flood might sooner or later come sweeping down from the hills awaybeyond Fort Duquesne, and threaten the little colony with disaster. Butit had come, and this night was likely to prove the blackest in thehistory of the settlement.
Now they could see the blockhouse that had been erected on the verycrown of the ridge, so that in times of danger all those having cabinslower down along the face of the hill might flee thither for refuge.And the wily Indians could not find any higher point whence to sendtheir arrows, winged with flame, to stick in the roof of the fort, andset it ablaze.
"I can see a light in our cabin window," declared Sandy, presently, hisvoice trembling with eagerness. "See, it is on the side that looks downthe river. I am sure mother must have put it there to serve as a guidefor her boys, if they chanced to be afloat on the dark waters. Oh! howglad we will be to see her again."
The roar of the river was in their ears as they advanced further; buttheir coming must have been detected by some sentinel, for a minutelater a harsh voice rang out, calling upon them to halt and explain whothey were, on pain of being fired on.
"It's we, Mr. Harkness," cried out Sandy, recognizing the voice of anear neighbor, "brother Bob and myself; but with us come Pat O'Mara,and our friend, Blue Jacket, the last bringing news that will tell youhis friendship still holds good. Oh! where will we find our mother andfather; can you direct us, sir?"
"They are at the cabin," replied the sturdy settler, as they advancedto where he stood, gun in hand, "though I saw Neighbor Armstrong buta few moments ago, and he was much cast down because his sons had notarrived. Hasten then, and convince him of your safety; and meanwhile wewould like to know the nature of this warning brought by the Indian."
The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi; or, The Homestead in the Wilderness Page 9