The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi; or, The Homestead in the Wilderness

by St. George Rathborne

  CHAPTER XIV

  A TARGET FOR ARROWS AND BULLETS

  "LIE down, everybody!"

  It was the voice of Mr. Armstrong that uttered these words; andhardly had the men who manned the sweeps and poles thrown themselvesflat, than there came flashes of flame from the border of the trees,accompanied by the crash of firearms and the thud of striking bulletsin the stout bulwark, behind which they had sought shelter.

  Other missiles splashed in the water, falling short, or passing beyondthe boat. Arrows also struck the cabin, to remain imbedded there asevidence of the muscular arms that sent them aboard.

  But there was a way of working the sweeps from behind shelter; andso, by slow degrees, the imperilled pioneers were carried further andfurther from the shore.

  No one fired back. In the first place, they saw but little of theIndians, who held the marksmanship of the borderers in too highrespect to risk showing themselves needlessly. And then, besides,ammunition was too precious and costly a commodity to waste, unless thenecessity seemed great.

  Gradually the firing from the shore slackened, and finally died awayaltogether, as did also the cries of bitter rage and disappointment.Only for the warning of Blue Jacket the little company might have metwith disaster thus early in their adventurous voyage. There were nolonger heard murmurings because they had been compelled to make thishasty departure from so comfortable a resting-place. Indeed, every onewas grateful to the young Shawanee, because of what he had done.

  Blue Jacket wanted not their thanks. He had no love for the white men,who were coming to drive his race away from the lands where they hadlived for many generations, carrying on their wars with neighboringtribes, hunting the buffalo and the deer, and worshipping the GreatManitou after the fashion of the red men.

  He sat by himself, moody and silent. Perhaps he was thinking how sorryhe would be to part forever from the two paleface lads whom he hadgrown to care for so much in this year he had known them. And thenthere was the kind, motherly woman who had helped nurse him back tolife long ago, when he suffered from a severe bullet wound, received ina battle with the whites, and which would have caused his death had henot been found by Sandy, and taken into the care of the Armstrongs.

  Then again, it might be that the young Shawanee brave was feeling thebitterness of his situation, placed as he was in a position where,for the time, he felt compelled by gratitude to warn these palefacesagainst the coming of his own people. Perhaps it was well that no shothad been fired from the flatboat; had a single Indian been killed as aresult of his warning, Blue Jacket would have cause for feeling moremoody than was now the case.

  The boys must have guessed something of his feelings, for they did notattempt to break in upon his solitude, as he sat with bowed head.

  For several hours the voyage down the river was continued by moonlight;and then Mr. Armstrong gave orders that they head in toward the shore,and put out the anchor that had been brought along for the purpose.

  A strict watch was kept until dawn; then Blue Jacket, going on shore,soon signalled that there was no longer any danger; accordingly theboat was pushed in, and, some of them landing, started a fire, at whichthe breakfast of fresh fish was cooked.

  So the waters and the woods were all made to pay tribute to the demandsof the sturdy early settlers. The rivers were teeming with fish, andthe forests contained innumerable deer, buffalo, and much smaller game,so that it was easy as a rule to supply the table, if a hunter daredventure abroad. Fear of an Indian surprise was the only thing thatdeterred them. There was ever this dread possibility hovering overtheir heads in the disputed land.

  When the meal was over, Blue Jacket, with the same grave face thatalways marked his character, came up, and held out his hand to Mrs.Armstrong.

  "Good-bye!" he said simply, with not a muscle quivering, such was thesplendid control he had over his feelings.

  To Bob and Sandy he also gave his hand, and looked at them long andearnestly, but said only that same one word:

  "Good-bye!"

  Then he turned and strode away, never giving any of the others so muchas a single look, for they were nothing to the young Shawanee warrior,and, if ever he met any of them again, it would probably be withweapons in his hands, and hatred for the mortal enemies of his race inhis Indian heart.

  Neither of the boys ever saw Blue Jacket again, since their lifetrails parted there on the flowery bank of the beautiful Ohio. Destinyled them into the wilderness, to help clear a path for advancingcivilization; while the same power took Blue Jacket back into thevillages of his people, to carry out the scheme in life to which he wasappointed.

  For a full hour after he had gone Sandy sat there, looking out upon theriver as the heavy craft glided steadily on its way, saying not a wordto any one.

  Then all at once he called aloud:

  "Oh! there's a man down on that point below, and a white man, too! Heseems to be in trouble, for he beckons to us all the while, and yetseems afraid to shout out. Perhaps he's escaped from the Indians whotried to catch us napping last night. It looks to me as if he wanted usto push in, and take him aboard."

  Instantly every one rushed to that side of the boat to look. And,sure enough, there stood a white man, waving his hands to them in amost beseeching manner. His whole appearance would indicate that hehad suffered all sorts of recent privations and was both hungry anddesperate.

  "Shall we push in closer?" asked Mr. Wayne, who knew less about Indiantrickery than any one of the other men of the party.

  "Not a foot!" declared Mr. Armstrong; "and every one keep low behindthe shelter of the sides; for, by my faith, I fancy, even now, that Ican see dusky figures gliding along back there among those trees."

  The man, as they came opposite, commenced to run along the edge of theshore, and make more urgent gestures than before.

  "Don't desert me, if you be men with hearts!" he cried out, in seemingagony.

  "Who are you, and what ails you?" demanded Mr. Armstrong.

  "My name is Elijah Fish, and with my mate I was taken prisoner by thebloodthirsty Shawanees a moon ago. They have tortured us both, and mycomrade finally fell a victim to their savage hatred. I managed toescape four days ago, and they have been hunting for me ever since. Ifyou leave me here, they will surely find me, and take my life. I beg ofyou to pull in at least part way, and let me come aboard!"

  "He talks straight, seems to me," declared young Amos Terry. "I don'tsee no sign of any Indians, and for one I'd hate to think I left a poorwhite man to be put to death. Ain't there some way he might be saved,Mr. Armstrong?"

  For answer the leader of the expedition put his hands to his mouth,using them for a trumpet, and called aloud:

  "We cannot come in any closer, because we must not risk chances ofbeing beset by the Indians; but, if you wish to come aboard, why notenter the water, and swim out after us? That is your only chance,Elijah Fish, which, for one, I do not believe to be your name."

  "Why, who do you take me for?" asked the man, still running along thesandy strip of shore between the edge of the water and the forest.

  "Well, you might be the renegade, Simon Girty, or perhaps McKee. And sowe must refuse to risk the lives of all on board in order to do you agood turn. If you can swim, enter the water. We will immediately anchorthe boat, and wait for you to come aboard. But that is as far as wedare go!"

  The man ceased running at hearing this.

  "Yew must have broken his heart with that, Mr. Armstrong," said theYankee, Amos Terry.

  "Look again!" exclaimed Sandy, quickly.

  The man was shaking his clenched fist after them, and, even as theylooked, he uttered all sorts of horrible threats. Some one on boardfired a shot, and the bullet threw up the sand close to the feet of thefellow, who, taking the hint, made haste to disappear in the bushes.

  "Keep down!" called Mr. Armstrong; and hardly had he spoken than therewas heard a crackling of guns here, there and everywhere among thetrees, showing that the red foe had been cunningly concealed, in theh
ope that the defenders of the flatboat might be lured into approachingthe shore.

  This time those on board answered the fire, as they caught glimpses ofdusky figures dodging from tree to tree.

  The duel of guns was kept up for some little time. Many a bullet,as well as dozens of feathered barbs, struck the bulwarks or cabinof the flatboat; but, since the white defenders were wise enough tokeep themselves well hidden, little damage resulted from the furiousbombardment, one man alone receiving a slight wound from a bullet, thatmust have glanced off the side of the cabin wall.

  On their part the pioneers believed that they had struck a number ofthe enemy, although they could not be positive about this, since theyhad not seen any actually fall. The Indians, however, found that theywere getting more than they bargained for, and when another half-hourhad passed the firing ceased.

  "I hope they've given it up as a bad job," remarked Sandy, who had sentseveral shots during the exciting time. "I wonder if I really did woundthat brave who was lying in that clump of bushes."

  "I think you must have hit him," Bob replied; "because, as soon as youfired, he came tumbling out, and plunged into that hole behind thethree trees, and I'm sure he acted as if something bothered him."

  "That's so, Bob, he did make me think of the way I got around whenthat hornets' nest upset, and they all came out to get at me. It feltpretty warm for me just then; and I guess it did for that brave. But,do you think they have drawn off, and mean to let us alone?"

  "I'm afraid that in some way, perhaps by means of the smoke signals, weknow about, they may send word down the river of our coming; and thatwould mean, you know, Sandy, a continual war all along the line to theMississippi. I'm afraid we'll have only too many just such fights onour hands, before we get to where we want to settle down."

  But even such a prospect did not daunt the spirit of Sandy, which wasnot easily crushed.

  "We have shown how easy it is to keep the Indians off, and we can do itagain and again, as long as our powder and ball hold out," he declared,with the sanguine nature of youth, that borrows no trouble when theskies seem clear. "I'm sure Pat O'Mara must have laid more than one ofthose yelling rascals low, for every time he fired I saw him nod hishead and look pleased."

  All the rest of that day they floated on, undisturbed by any signsof an enemy. Once Sandy discovered a stately stag standing knee deepin the water, surveying the approaching craft as if in wonder, and,eager to land a shot that might give them a bountiful supply of freshvenison, the boy made a hasty jump for his gun.

  But perhaps it was this sudden movement on the part of the impetuousSandy that alarmed the deer, for, whirling like a flash, it vanishedamidst the brush that at this particular spot lined the bank.

  "Too bad!" said Pat, who had witnessed all this; "but, take me worrdfor it, Sandy, av yees had been more deliberate like in your movements,chances are ye might 'a' had a shot. 'Tis the same ould story av toomuch haste, me bye. Next toime r'ach out yer hand, slow like, and pickup the gun widout takin' yer eyes off the game."

  Sandy thought he might do even better, and keep his musket in hisgrasp; but, though he sat there faithfully for nearly two hours, thechance did not come again. It seldom does, once we allow it to slippast.

  Of course, on that evening they decided that it was too risky to thinkof going ashore to make their fire; and so supper was prepared onboard, after they had anchored.

  So anxious were they to get as far as possible below the scene of theirencounter with the treacherous renegade and his red allies, that theywould have continued the voyage by moonlight, only that it had cloudedup with the coming of late afternoon, and there was every prospect of abad night ahead.

  The weather had been very fair ever since the spring rains ceased; but,warmer weather having now arrived, Mr. Armstrong warned them that astorm was liable to swoop down upon them at any time, and they must beprepared for it.

  So, on this night they tried the best they could to have the anchorwell laid, for, if ever the wind came sweeping down the river, therewas a chance that the cabin of the flatboat would offer such aresistance that, sooner or later, they must be swept away, to findthemselves at the mercy of the storm. And that was a possibility noneof them fancied very much.