Rodney, the Ranger, with Daniel Morgan on Trail and Battlefield

by John V. Lane

  CHAPTER VI

  A WILD FLIGHT

  Many a time in his wild flight that memorable night the boy thoughtwhat good fortune it was that the sky was clear and the moon shining.By its light he was able to make good progress and avoid walking in acircle, as otherwise he doubtless would have done.

  He directed his course toward the east, with the moon slightly on hisright. Many a fall he had over slippery, moss-grown logs, and his facewas bleeding from scratches received while rushing through the bushes.He could not conceal his trail, hoping to do that by daylight. Duringthe night he must make every effort to travel as fast and as far aspossible.

  His nerves were at the utmost tension. He realized that any moment hemight hear a yell or see some shadowy form glide alongside. Theinstant an Indian awoke and discovered his escape the chase wouldbegin.

  The picture of the poor fellow murdered back at the creek was beforehis eyes and the horror of it spurred him to his utmost. Just at dawnhe arrived at a small stream so nearly exhausted that he stumbled andfell while crossing it, yet he dared not stop to rest. He must firstconceal his trail, which up to this place the savages could easilyfollow.

  After crossing he walked a short distance alongside on the bank downstream, leaving plain imprints of his feet in the soft soil. Then heagain entered the water and turned up stream.

  For nearly an hour he forced himself onward, stumbling over theslippery rocks and not once leaving the water. Finally he came to abare ledge jutting into the brook. He stepped from the water to this,careful to leave no imprints of his feet. At the farther end was afallen tree. Walking along the trunk of this as far as he could, hestooped to the ground and rejoiced to note that it was firm, so thathis moccasins left no impress on it. One who has never tried theexperiment cannot realize the care necessary in walking through thewoods not to displace a leaf or break a twig, which would attract theattention of a wary savage.

  Rodney succeeded so well that, after he had gone nearly half a mileand came to a dense clump of underbrush, he decided it would be safeto hide there and sleep. He believed the Indians would think he hadfled in the direction of the Ohio River, and, seeing his footprints onthe bank, would follow down stream. He could not remember when he hadbeen so tired and soon was in a sound slumber, not waking till nearlynoon. He was very hungry but found a spring of sweet water and somecheckerberry leaves, and, thus refreshed, continued his flight.

  He did not rest again till nightfall. He had seen no game savesquirrels and, having but one load for his rifle, hesitated to wastethat on small game. From the first he had thought his only chance ofescape would be to follow some stream flowing in the direction of theOhio. At dusk he came to one and concluded it now safe to follow it,but soon he must eat, for he was very weak.

  Selecting a convenient place he sat down to wait for a chance glimpseof game. Possibly a deer might come that way to drink, and a deerwould be worth his one bullet. Rodney by this time concluded hispursuers had lost his trail and he felt as though he were alone in thegreat forest. His eyelids were heavy, but, recalling what happened tohim through falling asleep three days before, he rose to his feet thebetter to keep awake. As he did so he was startled by a shot, fired alittle way down the stream.

  The boy's eyelids were no longer heavy. He experienced something likea chill and he asked himself, "What if I had seen game and fired?"After waiting a few moments, it occurred to him that there was apossibility that the shot had been fired by white men. Of course itwas improbable, but he must investigate. If they were Indians, theywould gorge themselves with the meat and sleep soundly so that heought to have no trouble in getting past them. Moreover, unless manywere in the party, they would leave a portion of the carcass if itwere a deer they had shot. Why might he not secure that? He was hungryenough to eat the flesh raw.

  Cautiously approaching he finally saw the gleam of firelight among thetrees and then shadows of men, and his heart sank. They were Indians!Two came up to the fire from the stream and the boy noted thedirection whence they came. After the moon appeared he entered thebrook to descend it and look about for signs of the place where thegame was killed. At last he found it, and the carcass of a deer fromwhich the hind quarters had been cut. Quick work with his knifesecured him a goodly portion of what was left and with this he hurriedon down the brook, on the slippery bed of which he kept his footingwith difficulty. His hunger urged him so that after going about a milehe decided he was far enough away to risk a fire.

  He gathered a lot of dried twigs and rubbed them between his palms,thus making a small powdery mass into which, after mixing with it afew grains of powder from the priming, he struck sparks from the flintand steel of his rifle. The smell of the cooking meat made himravenous and, like an Indian, he ate it half raw. He then lost no timein extinguishing his fire and renewing his journey.

  The good food and the reflection that so far he had outwitted thesavages, put him in a very happy frame of mind. He was congratulatinghimself on his good luck when he heard a dry twig snap in the densegrowth beside the brook. It was a moment of horror for the lad and heinstantly crouched in the shadow of the bushes and cocked his rifle.The noise continued, a shuffling sound, and then his straining earsdetected the snuffing of some animal. One may imagine his relief.

  The animal soon emerged from the bushes, a black, shaggy bulk withmuzzle uplifted, following the scent of the meat which Rodneycarried.

  Now, being followed by a hungry bear under such conditions would notbe agreeable to most people, but the boy's courage was good and hisrelief at finding his pursuer not an Indian was so great that he feltlike laughing; instead he hastened his pace.

  The chase continued, mile after mile, though to the tired ladstumbling over the slippery stones it seemed league upon league.Occasionally he stepped in a hole to his waist, but he was too excitedto heed the drenching or the fatigue.

  An hour passed, and bruin yet followed. "Reckon he's hungry as I am,"Rodney remarked to himself. Then came the thought, why not divide withthe bear? Suiting action to word the lad quickly cut his meat in twopieces, flinging one behind. With a growl the brute savagely seized itand the boy hurried on. The respite was brief, however, for not manyminutes passed before he heard his pursuer, appetite whetted by whathe had eaten, following the trail.

  Rodney was now more exasperated than frightened. The dangers throughwhich he had passed seemed to embolden him, though he knew his plightwould indeed be unpleasant should he attempt to shoot bruin and bysome cause miss fire. The muskets sold to the Indians were usually ofthe cheapest quality, and the one he carried certainly appeared to beof that variety. He looked behind. The bear was gaining. Seeing this,the lad resolved on extreme measures. First, he would try the effectof a rock and he picked one up, about as large as his two fists.

  Rodney had thrown many stones in his life and most of them had beenwell aimed. This was no exception and landed fairly on bruin's snout.The animal stood on the bank not twenty feet distant and he turned asomersault, in his pain and rage, landing in the water with a loudsplash.

  Young Allison did not stop to laugh, as he felt like doing, but put asmuch distance between himself and his pursuer as possible. After atime, hearing nothing of bruin, he concluded the old fellow had givenup the chase and lay somewhere curled up and nursing his sore snout.Now that the excitement was past the boy began to be sensible of hisfatigue. Nature was asserting herself and he must eat and sleep.

  Just at dawn he noted a clear space among large trees on a knoll alittle way from the brook, which now had grown to a considerablecreek. He reconnoitred and, finding no trace of an enemy, built afire. While broiling a piece of the venison it occurred to him that heshould husband what was left of the meat as it might be a long timebefore he could find venison, killed and dressed by Indians, awaitinghim along the route. Accordingly, after eating a hearty breakfast, hecut crotched sticks and drove them into the ground on either side ofthe fire and placed green poles across, over the fire. By hanging themeat on these he planned to sm
oke and dry what remained, after cuttingit into strips. Rodney seemed to forget about both Indians and thebear and was whistling softly as he worked when a noise behind himcaused him to turn.

  Not over fifteen feet away was the bear! He smelled the cooking meatand evidently was in an ugly mood. Scarcely thinking what he did, theboy, snatching a brand from the fire, threw it full in the face of thebrute and sprang for his rifle. The firebrand only seemed to infuriatethe animal and he charged. Hastily Rodney fired.

  A growl of rage and pain followed the report, and through the clearingsmoke the boy saw the bear biting at the wound in his side. Round andround bruin whirled until he caught a glimpse of his assailant, whenhe rushed forward. As in a haze the boy saw the huge bulk almost uponhim, the little fiery eyes gleaming like coals of fire, the open jawsflecked with bloody froth. The boy clubbed his rifle with no thoughtof running. The bear rose on his hind legs. One blow from his powerfulpaw, and all would be over. Rodney struck, shattering the stock of thegun, and sprang aside. He now was helpless!

  The bear, full of fight, struck, his claws ripping the boy's sleeve.Crack! A well-aimed shot from behind brought bruin down with scarcelya struggle and the huge bulk lay stretched at Rodney's feet.

  A child's scream of delight followed the shot. A white boy of aboutten years, accompanied by an Indian, came out of the thick woods, thelittle fellow crying, "He's mine. I want him, Caughnega."

  To this pleading the Indian paid no heed. Confronting Rodney hedemanded, with a sweep of his arm: "Pale face no hunt; Indiancountry."

  Rodney, by this time, was in a somewhat hysterical condition. The ideathat he was there for the pleasure or profit of hunting bears struckhim as so ludicrous that he laughed loudly, a performance thatevidently puzzled the redskin not a little.

  The little fellow here renewed his plea, saying: "I saw him first andI want him to play with; he's mine," and he stamped his foot like apetty tyrant and seized Rodney by the hand, saying, "You'll play withLouis?"

  "I'll be very glad to do so," Rodney replied, looking at the Indianrather than at the boy who tugged at his hand.

  "No hunt, what for here?" the Indian asked and his voice was stern.

  Rodney hesitated a moment. The red man's beady eyes, noting this,glittered. "I'm lost," Rodney finally said, adding, "I want to getback to the river."

  "Humph!" And, having thus expressed himself, Caughnega turned to thework of skinning and cutting up the bear, in which task Rodneyendeavoured to assist, his efforts, however, being received quiteungraciously.

  When all was done, the meat was tied into two bundles, one of whichthe Indian ordered Rodney to take and walk ahead. Now, walking aheadof a hostile savage is not a pleasant arrangement, but the boy triedto comfort himself with the thought that, so long as the Indian mightwish the bundle carried, he would not kill the carrier. Then thelittle fellow ran alongside and took the older lad's hand, an act ofconfidence and friendship the latter never forgot.

  They forded the creek and climbed the bank to a small plateauoverlooking a meadow through which the creek wound its way. Here, onthis high land, were clustered about twenty huts or wigwams, somecovered with skins and others with bark. As no one expected them,their approach did not excite especial commotion, fortunately forRodney, otherwise he might have been compelled to run a gauntlet.

  Caughnega stopped in front of one of the wigwams and motioned Rodneyto enter.

  Louis protested, saying, "He is mine, I found him," but to no avail.Disappointed, he ran away, crying bitterly, while the scowling savageflung his prisoner into the hut, and indicated by word and gesturethat the lad was not to leave it on peril of his life. Then he stalkedaway, and Rodney was left to the bitterness of his reflections.