It was very comfortable sitting before the fire, thus sheltered from the wind. Tom especially enjoyed it for his tongue ran on at a tremendous rate as he told stories of extraordinary adventures.
John urged him to tell more and more, and he might have gone on talking all night had not Ree admonished him and John that they must turn in promptly in order to make an early start in the morning. Wolves were howling not far away, and the plaintive but terrorizing cry of a panther could be heard in the distance, as the little party lay down to sleep. No doubt the young emigrants thought many times before dreams came to them, of what the depths of the wilderness must be, if the foreboding sounds which reached them were a fair example of what the outer edge of the forest fastnesses afforded; but they rested well and were early astir.
Crossing a fine, level country, though thickly grown with great trees, on this day, the boys saw plainly the evidences of the road made by the Boquet expedition. There were the stumps of big and little trees and the half-decayed remnants of the trees which had been cut down, on both sides of them. Although so many years had passed since Col. Boquet had made this trail, the work his men had done made the progress of the Connecticut boys and their hunter companion faster than it would otherwise have been, and three days passed rapidly without other adventure than the meeting of a small party of Indians who scowled and passed on, and the killing of a large panther by Ree, the animal having terribly frightened old Jerry by dropping from a tree squarely upon the faithful horse’s back, one night.
On the fifth day after leaving Pittsburg the travelers crossed a high ridge and obtained a glorious view of the country toward which they were pressing on. In the distance rivers of water and great oceans of tree tops, deep valleys and wooded hillsides were seen.
“Ye ain’t fer from the ‘Promised Land,’” said Tom Fish, lightly, much less moved by the grandeur of nature’s display than were the boys. Then he indicated the location of a point, far beyond and out of view, at which the old trail they were following, turned to the southwest and an Indian trail turned toward the northwest, leading on to the “Sandusky Plains” near Lake Erie.
It was apparent that Tom had settled in his own mind the locality in which the boys should erect their cabin and make their home. He had their interest at heart, the lads did not doubt, but they were unwilling to accept his judgment absolutely. It was arranged between them, therefore, that Ree should go ahead and spy out the lay of the land—and especially investigate the “lake country” of which Tom had so often spoken. If he should find it all that was represented, well and good; if not, they knew that along almost any of the rivers to the south and west of them, were fertile lands and Indian villages which would afford that which they sought—crops and trade.
And so on the morning of the fourth day after their having taken to the Indian trail toward the “Sandusky Plains,” the matter having been explained to Tom Fish, Ree left his friends behind. It was a perilous undertaking upon which he set out. They had now reached a wild and rugged country whose hills and valleys almost swarmed with game. Deer, bears and wolves were abundant. Panthers, wildcats and smaller game were frequently seen, and Indians were all about, though the party had thus far met but few.
But Return Kingdom had no fear—that was something he did not then know. He was only anxious to quickly find the right place for their residence and to make no mistake in selecting it. A light snow had already fallen, making it desirable that he and John should get themselves settled without delay. This was his thought as he hurried on alone.
Under a big beech tree Ree camped at night, building no fire lest it draw unwelcome guests toward him, but wrapping his blanket about himself and sitting, not lying, on the ground, his rifle between his knees. Any one passing, even very near, would have supposed his dark figure to be that of an old stump, and he spent the night with a feeling of safety, not entirely comfortable in his position, but little disturbed by the snapping of twigs and the rustle of leaves which told that forest prowlers were near.
Crossing a river at a shallow place next day, Ree mounted a hill and climbed a tall hickory whose upper branches rose above all other trees near it.
The weather had become warm and pleasant again and he would be able, he knew, to obtain a fine view. Just what he expected to see, he had not thought, but the grandeur of the scene he beheld was magnificent. Far as he could see the ocean of nearly leafless treetops rose and fell in giant waves, broken here and there by lakes or rivers, he knew not which, glimpses of whose waters and bushy banks, he caught. Here were lowlands—there highlands, and through the latter he traced for a long distance the course of the river he had crossed earlier in the day. Ree drew out a chart he had obtained at Pittsburg.
“It must be the Cuyahoga river—or Cayuga as some call it—and I am right in the heart of the lake country,” he whispered, as he steadied himself in the tree top. “We will build our cabin near the river.”
Without more delay the boy climbed down and strode forward in the direction of a valley which he had seen two or three miles to westward. In time he came to a sloping hillside and looking beyond he saw a splendid stream of swiftly flowing water. At the foot of the hill was a narrow tract of about four acres almost bare of trees, though deep grass spoke of the soil’s fertility. Rising above the river was a large knoll sloping down to the natural clearing.
With every sense delighted by the fine prospect, Ree ran down the hill, across the clearing and to the summit of the knoll or bluff. The ripple and splash of the river, the bright sunshine and his discovery of this ideal spot delighted him.
“The very place we are looking for!” he exclaimed aloud. “Here is grass for Jerry, a fine clearing for the beginning of a farm—wood—water—game—everything!”
Anxious to join his friends and tell them of this good fortune, Ree dashed down the bluff and ascended the wooded hillside opposite. Panting, he reached the summit and suddenly,—stopped.
As though they had been waiting for him, there stood watching him a party of Indians. They were dressed entirely in savage costume. Not one wore any garment of civilization as did many of the savages farther east. With stolid composure the Redskins looked at the boy, though they must have wondered what the young Paleface was doing, alone in the forest’s depths.
Quickly recovering his presence of mind, Ree coolly stepped toward them, holding out his hand to one he supposed to be the chief, saying, “How, brothers?”
The Indian shook his hand but did not speak. The same second another Indian stepped up and seizing Ree’s hat, put it on his own bare head. Another grabbed the boy’s rifle, as though to take it from him.
Ree smiled, but he held firmly to his gun, and snatched his hat from the young brave who had seized it. One of the Indians now ordered that Ree be let alone. But this was not the one the boy had taken to be the chief, and Kingdom quickly perceived that he had made a rather serious mistake. But he nodded his thanks to the Redskin and explained, using signs when words would not do, that he was a trader and that his friends and store of goods were not far away.
It caused Ree some alarm, however, when at a signal from the chief the Indians gathered about in such a way as to hem him completely in. And this alarm was decidedly increased as he noticed at the chief’s belt, a white man’s scalp. There could be no mistaking it.
The savages made no move to molest the boy further than to prevent his leaving them, but gave him to understand that they believed him to be a spy. Seeing this the boy offered to conduct them to his friends and merchandise. To this they agreed after some parleying and placing Ree between two big, swarthy fellows, they set off in single file, suspicious, it may be, that he would lead them into an ambush.
Ree gave little thought to this. He knew that if John and Tom had made good progress that he could reach them by nightfall and the suspicions of the Indians would be allayed.
It was wonderful how easily the savages followed Ree’s back trail, and they traveled at good speed. But hours passe
d and no sign of the wagon of which the lad had told them was found. The doubt of the Indians increased and they became ugly and impatient.
In vain Ree tried to explain that his friends must have been delayed, but he himself could not understand why no gleam of light, no smoke of their camp-fire, even, was visible as the day wore away, and soon he found that he was indeed a prisoner; for as the savages presently prepared to go into camp, their first act was to bind the white boy’s hands behind him and tie his feet with strong ropes of bark.
A full sense of his danger came to Ree’s thoughts, but he put on a bold front and emphatically objected to being tied, saying he had no thought of running away and that early the next day his statement that he was a trader would be found true.
The Indians gave no heed to his indignant words. They built a small fire by flashing sparks with flint and steel, and ate their supper consisting only of pounded parched corn and dried meat. This they shared with Ree, and though he ate heartily he was thinking of other things. Every time he looked across the fire he could see the gruesome scalp at the belt of the chief of the party. Little wonder that he became apprehensive for his safety. It would not do, however, he thought, to let the Indians see that he was worried, and he began to whistle. The savages gazed at him in wonder. Suddenly one young buck arose, stepped over to the boy and struck him viciously on the cheek.
His temper instantly fired, Ree shot out his feet, bound together though they were, striking the savage full in the stomach and sending him headlong, partly into the fire.
As a tremendous howl of rage arose, Ree forgot that he was bound—forgot that his better plan would have been to keep cool. He sprang up, breaking the strings of bark which tied him, with seeming ease, and, as the enraged Indian rushed toward him, he dodged the club the savage brandished, and landing a tremendous blow on the redman’s neck with his fist, grabbed his rifle from the ground and sped away into the forest and the darkness.
With terrific yells the Indians took up the pursuit. On and on Ree dashed among the bushes and over brush and logs, springing wildly aside at times to save himself from dashing out his brains against a tree—hurrying fast and faster, he knew not whither, his pursuers crashing after him.
The pursued nearly always has the advantage over the pursuer. Ree found himself drawing slowly away from the Indians, who made so much noise themselves they could scarcely hear him, and suddenly halting, he crept softly away in another direction. Soon the savages went past, pell mell, certain that the boy was ahead of them, and the sounds of the chase died away.
Listening intently, to be ready for the slightest alarm, Ree turned to go back the way he came. It was difficult in the darkness to do this, but he believed that if he could return to the vicinity of the Indians’ camp-fire he could easily get his bearings and travel without loss of time in the direction of his friends. The darkness seemed less intense now that he had become accustomed to it, but he must exercise every care. To step on a dry stick or to stumble and fall might be fatal—might mean his capture and death.
Fortune favored the brave lad, for presently the dim light of the smoldering camp-fire came into view. He paused a moment, then turned confidently in the direction in which he thought John and Tom Fish must be. He had not taken forty steps, however, when a dark figure loomed up suddenly before him, and with exceeding quickness and quietness glided behind a tree.
It was well indeed for Return Kingdom that his quick eye saw this movement. Turning again, he ran, but instantly the dark figure darted in pursuit. Discovering that he was in danger of being driven into the very arms of the Indians he had so recently eluded, Ree changed his tactics. Certain that but a single savage was behind him, he wheeled and ran toward the Indian at full speed.
They were not far apart. Before the Redskin had made out what the boy was doing, the latter had hurled himself upon him and thrown him to the ground.
Fiercely the savage struggled; with tremendous energy Ree retained the upper hold, his grip secure on his opponent’s throat. Neither spoke. The Indian could not, and Ree had no wish to add to the noise made by their thrashing about among the leaves and dry twigs. He knew that he could kill the savage warrior but he dreaded to do that. It would mean trouble with the Indians for a long time to come, upsetting his most cherished plans. And yet his own life was in danger, and—he dared not relax his hold.
Yet something must be done, and quickly, for soon the other Indians would be returning, and more than this he could not hold out long against the greater strength of his red antagonist. Ree resolved, therefore, to make the Indian understand that he did not wish to kill him, then let go and take his chances in a foot race.
But at this instant, the Redskin, by a mighty effort raised himself partially upon his feet, secured the release of his right arm, on which Ree’s knee had been, and clutched the boy’s throat with a vise-like grip. Never had the venturesome Connecticut lad been so near death as he was at that moment. Steadily the Indian continued to gain the upper hand, and as he tightened his grasp on Ree’s throat the boy’s tongue seemed to be forced from his mouth.
Then it was that Return Kingdom’s grim, unyielding determination which meant victory or death—a determination which, once formed, would have stopped for nothing though it swayed the earth, asserted itself. With the power of an unbending purpose, Ree raised to his feet, dragging the savage with him. He grasped the Indian’s body and with strength most extraordinary, lifted him from the ground, then suddenly he cast him violently down as though the brave were a great stone which he wished to break.
Astonished, bruised, exhausted, the Indian lay as he had fallen. The whole struggle had occupied but a minute or two, but it had been furious. Both the combatants were panting like dogs. Now was Ree’s opportunity. He stooped down, grasped the redman’s hand and shook it gently.
“We should be brothers. I would not try to kill you,” he spoke in a low, friendly way.
The Indian made no answer. Again Ree shook his hand, then picked up his rule and walked rapidly away. Looking back, he saw the savage rising to his feet and returning to the camp-fire. He was sure then that he had made a friend of an enemy. But he lost no time. There were but a few hours of darkness remaining to cover his escape while he searched for his friends, and with every sense alert he hastened on, though faint and weary from the violence of his exertions. He felt the necessity of finding and giving warning to John and Tom and the thought kept him going.
At last the morning came—slowly at first and then with a rush of light which set the crows a-cawing and wood-birds singing; and still the worn-out, lonesome boy looked in vain for his friends. But he wavered not for a moment, though ready to acknowledge himself completely lost, and thus, pressing on, he came soon after sunrise to the bank of a deep, wide ravine. He remembered having crossed it the day he left John and Tom, and soon he found a path leading down into the gully.
Assuring himself by careful scrutiny that the coast was clear, Ree pushed through the bushes and trotted down the bank’s steep side; and in another moment came squarely upon the cart and the camp of his friends. But where were John and Tom? Consternation filled the lad as he wholly failed to find them, and as he also discovered that the camp-fire was no fire at all—only a heap of dead ashes. Where was old Jerry, too?
A great fear came into Ree’s heart, which was increased a thousand fold, as in another moment he saw the faithful horse a few rods away—dead. There was a bullet hole in the gentle, patient animal’s head.
* * *
CHAPTER IX.
The Scalp at Big Buffalo’s Belt.
A great lump came in Ree’s throat as he looked upon the body of honest old Jerry, and stood for a few seconds watching in a dazed, helpless way the big blue flies which buzzed about the lifeless animal in the morning sunlight. Then he saw for the first time that carion birds, buzzards, perhaps, had been feeding on the horse’s flesh.
The oppressive silence and desolation of the camp were as dead weights on the lad�
��s spirits, already burdened with most unhappy thoughts, and standing as still as the motionless trees about him, he could not summon back the resolution and courage which had kept him unfaltering throughout the night. The snapping of a twig recalled his scattered senses, however, and his sudden movement frightened a gaunt wolf which had crept up almost to the lifeless horse, and now went skulking away.
“I cannot understand—cannot think, I must get my wits to working, some way!” the boy exclaimed in a half whisper, “what in the world can have happened?”
Again Ree’s mind gained the mastery over his fatigued body and his powerful determination seemed again to drive the weariness away. He stooped and stroked but once or twice the dead horse’s damp foretop, then hastened to the cart. Nothing in it had been disturbed. He looked carefully about the shelter of poles and brush which had been built, and found everything in comparatively good order. Surely things would not be in this state if his friends had been driven off or killed by Indians. It must be that they were attacked, had repulsed the enemy and had now gone in pursuit.
But why had they not returned? There was no doubt but that old Jerry had been dead at least a day, and John and Tom would, in that case, have been absent nearly as long.
With feverish anxiety Ree searched for a trail which would show the direction taken by the enemy or his friends, or both, but the sound of a stealthy footstep on the bank above caused him to spring to the shelter of a tree.
As he watched and listened, he heard voices, and quietly stepped into the open; for he would have known John’s tones among ten thousand. And at the same minute John and Tom Fish saw Ree gazing up at them, and both ran toward him, John crying excitedly: “Return Kingdom! Oh, but I am glad to see you!”
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