by John V. Lane
CHAPTER XII
IN THE MIDST OF INCREASING PERILS
Rodney did not dare to follow Francois back to the village, nor did hethink it wise to return to the tree. Being thirsty, he risked a visitto the spring, waiting till the dusk deepened and the last squaw hadfilled her kettles or the deerskin bottles in which they carriedwater. Having drank, he concluded he would pass the night on a littledry knoll near the spring, and from which he could observe what washappening in the village.
As he lay looking out upon the bluff, whereon sat the village, anddown on the broad meadow, he admired the location with the eye of ayoung pioneer. What a delightful spot for a plantation! His boyishimagination pictured a home like "The Hall" on the bluff overlookingthe creek. Back of that he would have the negro cabins and thestables, for he would have fine horses like Nat. With such a home hewould be as important a man as Squire Danesford and his father need beunder obligations to no man. Had Lisbeth married her cousin and goneto England? And so day dreams drifted into those of sleep.
The next morning he returned to Ahneota and told him what hadoccurred. The old chief seemed contrite after his debauch, but did notmention it. As Rodney left him he said: "Better be Ahneota's brother,"but the boy shook his head, saying: "You know why I cannot be."
Francois had left the village. Caughnega did not look at the boy asthey met. That evening Conrad came and, much to the boy's surprise,suggested that they go fishing in the morning. Rodney readily agreedand the following morning they went up the creek several miles to aplace where the stream broadened out into a small pond. Its shoreswere lined with lily pads under which the pickerel lay in wait fortheir prey, motionless as sticks, which they resemble.
Rodney, who had fished there, led the way to the mouth of a littleinlet, where a tree had fallen into the water. He had cleared away therotten limbs so that he might go far out on the trunk and be able tocast the bait at a specially inviting spot. Wishing to be friends, heoffered Conrad the place at the farther end and also the loan of hisbetter fishing gear. Conrad, who was very glum, hesitated, but finallyaccepted the offer.
Now, there is luck as well as skill in fishing, as every one knows whohas tried it. Again and again they would both cast their minnow bait,which was exactly similar, and Rodney's would be the hook that wasseized. Once, while the latter was baiting his hook, a huge pickerel,darting like a flash of light, took Conrad's and he, being too eager,yanked vigorously before the fish had taken the bait far enough intothe mouth to be securely hooked. Rodney immediately skipped his baitover the place and the fish, taking that, was skilfully landed. He wasa beauty. The look of hatred in Conrad's face startled his companionbut he soon forgot it in the sport he was having. Tired at last, hesaid: "Let's go back to the village, Conrad. We've got enough for oneday."
"Yah! You back go vith basket full an' show Louis an' ol' chief vat asmart brave you be."
Rodney made no reply, but turned and carefully picked his way over theslippery trunk toward the shore. While doing this a thought of thelook of hatred in his companion's face prompted him to turn his head.
Close behind him, with his hatchet uplifted in the act of striking,was Conrad!
Rodney thrust his pole backward as one would thrust a spear and thebutt hit the other boy full in the chest, knocking him off theslippery log into the water.
Squirming and spluttering, he tried to regain his feet but, instead,sank deeper and deeper.
He had fallen into a quagmire!
By the time Rodney had recovered his self-possession Conrad had sunkto his chin. The delay of another minute and he would have disappearedfrom this story.
Rodney ran back and reached out his pole. The other seized it and waspulled to safety, covered with mud.
The boys stood looking at each other. Conrad said nothing, but lookedmore sullen than ever, though his blazing wrath was well extinguished.Finally Rodney spoke.
"Why did you try to kill me?"
"Och! me, I hate you."
"What for?"
"You, you a paleface."
"That's not the reason. So are you."
"_Nein_, me, I a Wyandotte brave; ain't so."
"I never wronged you."
"Louis my brother vas und you come. You tell him Conrad not gootbrother, alretty."
"That's false. I never said a word against you. Some one has beenlying to you."
"Maman heard you, yet."
"She heard nothing of the kind. She wants me killed for some reason,and is trying to have you murder me, kill me from behind like acoward."
"Red man's vay for me goot enough."
"Well, it's not good enough for me. 'Twould have been an Indian's way,I suppose, to have let you go down out of sight in the mud. If I'd hadthe slightest enmity to you that would have been my chance after youtried to murder me, you blockhead! I've a good mind to give you athrashing. Maman and Caughnega have been making a catspaw of you to dotheir dirty work. If you had a spoonful of sense you'd know, nowanyway, that I have nothing against you. If you are jealous of me,help me to go back to Virginia out of the way. Don't try to strike medown from behind."
Conrad hung his head. He had not lost his sense of shame altogether,and, noticing his embarrassment, Rodney, prompted by an impulse hecould not have explained, held out his hand, saying, "Let's shakehands and be friends, to each other and to Louis. He'll need us both."Conrad met the offer and they returned to the village, no word beingspoken on the way.
About a week later Conrad came to his wigwam and said, "Go toAhneota's lodge. Francois has a Shawnee brought, vat say you to heembelong."
This was startling news indeed; Francois's revenge!
Rodney lost no time in reporting to the chief, who remarked, "Theyhave been long in coming," from which it appeared he had expectedthem.
Francois, bustling and important, announced a messenger from "ourbrothers, the Shawnees, who has come for this paleface, a runaway."
"Let him enter," replied Ahneota, with dignity.
A villainous looking fellow, accompanied by Caughnega, entered thelodge. Rodney did not recognize him, which was not strange; indeed, hemay not have been one of the party that captured the boy.
Having entered, he made formal demand for the return of the captive.To this Ahneota replied: "Our people are at peace with the paleface.They have wronged us, but we wait. Leaves do not fall until the tenthmoon. The hatchet is buried. The paleface sits by our fires and smokesthe pipe of peace."
To this the Shawnee responded: "I have come for my prisoner. Ourbrother would not warm at the fire of the Wyandotte the snake from thelodge of the Shawnee."
"Do you, my brother, come from the mighty Cornstalk, wise in counseland fierce in war?"
The Shawnee hesitated, and Ahneota continued: "Has he declared war onthe paleface?"
The Shawnee drew himself up, he was tall and strong, and replied:
"If Shawnee meet Wyandotte bringing venison to his lodge does he askhim where he got it and take it from him?"
"If my brother kill the paleface and bring war on the tribes whenthere is peace, shall my lodge be burned by the braves of thepaleface? No, my brother. Go back to Cornstalk and say Ahneota wouldsit in council with him before the hatchet is dug up," saying whichthe old chief signified that the talk was at an end and the Shawneewithdrew discomfited.
When Rodney learned what the old chief had done in his behalf hisheart warmed in gratitude toward the old savage. At first opportunityhe thanked him, but the Indian made no reply. Caughnega soon afterleft the village and did not return before the village was moved thatfall farther north, where the hunting was said to be better.
One day Louis came to him, crying, to bid him good-bye as Maman was totake him to the river, which he supposed meant back to his formerhome. She had told him he was to see Father Arbeille again and was tobe taught how to be a wise boy. Louis did not want to go, and Rodneyfeared ill for the little fellow. There was nothing he could do,however. He did speak to Ahneota about it, and said he thought she hadst
olen the boy and intended no good toward him.
"She would be like bear for cub, she would die for him. Would LittleKnife do as much?"
This name the savage had lately given the boy. The Indians termed theVirginians "Long Knives," hence the name, "Little Knife," applied tothe lad.
That winter several of the men relied upon for hunting visited adistant tribe, and meat grew scarce. Since the departure of Caughnegaand Maman, Rodney went about more freely and the old chief loaned hisrifle and allowed him to hunt. He and Conrad made several excursionstogether. On one of these trips they set out with but little food andwandered for several days, nearly starved and half frozen. On thethird day Conrad, discovering a hole half way up the trunk of a bigtree, stopped.
"Vat you tink?" asked Rodney, mimicking his companion's speech, fornow they were excellent friends.
"I tink dat one goot hole for bear, ain't so?" was the reply.
"You suppose an old fellow has a nest in there?"
"I tink some look in be goot."
They cut down a sapling standing near, "lodging" it against the bigtree. Then they built a fire and, collecting the tips of green boughsand long grass damp with frost, tied them into a bundle at the end ofa pole. While Conrad "shinned" up the sapling till the pole wouldreach the hole, Rodney lighted the bundle which smoked like a"smudge." Conrad thrust the smoking bundle into the hole and, a minutelater, a wheezing sound was heard. Bruin was there and was waking fromhis winter sleep!
Rodney seized the rifle while Conrad slid to the ground. But the bearlooked out and made no effort to descend.
Conrad then relighted the torch and climbed up far enough to thrust itin the bear's face. This angered him and he began to back down thetree.
Unlike Rodney's first encounter with a bear, the lad now had ampletime for taking steady aim and the brute fell mortally wounded.
How delicious the meal, which followed, tasted after their long fast!
Taking as much of the choicest cuts as they could carry, they returnedto the encampment to find the Indians in a famished condition. Ahneotafor the two previous days had given his allowance of food to thechildren.
The winter, what with hunting and trapping, passed quickly. The wild,free life with all its hardships and annoyances appealed to Rodney,and he came to understand how children taken captives by the Indians,and later returned to their parents, would occasionally run away andrejoin the red folk. His home ties were too strong, however, for himto entertain such a thought, and he lay awake many nights wonderinghow he might make his escape.
The severity of the winter had greatly weakened Ahneota. The skin wasdrawn over his cheekbones like parchment. He was so lame withrheumatism that he needed constant care and the boy served him in manyways.
The hunters, though few in number, had gathered a fine lot of furs,and, when the ice was breaking up in the streams, the sugar mapleswere tapped. Their implements for this purpose were crude. Theirmethod consisted in cutting a gash through the bark with a tomahawkand into this driving a chip which served as a "spile" to conduct thedripping sap into the dishes of elm bark, from which it was taken andboiled into sugar. This sugar was often mixed with bear's fat andstored in sacks made of skins, a mixture much prized by the Indians.
A little later the tribe returned to the bluff where Rodney was firstintroduced to its life, there to plant the corn and tobacco.
Rumours of trouble with the whites increased. The latter part of MayFrancois returned, but without Maman and Louis, and he brought, totrade for the valuable furs, rifles and ammunition and brandy, andwaxed rich, while the savages with their new implements of war becamemore restless.