Far Past the Frontier

by Braden, James A

  Tom Fish felt very differently about the matter of the Indians’ friendship, but he kept these thoughts to himself for the time being, and though there are far more comfortable places than a camp in a great wilderness on a cold November night, the lads from Connecticut would have been entirely happy had it not been for the mystery of the strange prowler, the thought that several times they had been secretly fired upon, and that there was no knowing when another attack might be made in which the aim of the dastardly assailant need be but a trifle better to end the life of one or both of them, perhaps.

  Yet, even these gloomy facts could not dispel the good spirits which accompany good health and the hopefulness of youth. Even Tom seemed to forget his dark forebodings as he was persuaded to tell a number of stories of his own adventures. Quite comfortable, therefore, though on the alert to catch the first sound of danger’s coming, the little party sat for an hour or two beneath the rude shelter which had been erected, while the firelight performed its fantastic feats around them.

  Tom volunteered to remain on guard the first part of the night, and crept out at the back of their little house of poles and brush, that he might not be observed, should anyone be watching. Then, softly through the darkness he made his way to a convenient tree against which he leaned, in the dark shadows. Ree and John, wrapped in their blankets on their beds of deerskins spread over the autumn leaves, were soon asleep.

  A heavy snow was sifting through the swaying branches of the trees when Tom called Ree and the latter went on watch. This change in the weather gave the quick-witted sentinel an idea. With the first streak of dawn he called John to prepare breakfast, then hurried back to the valley where their cart had been left, taking care to observe that there were no tracks of any human creature along the way. From the box of the abandoned two-wheeled wagon he secured two good sized boards and carried them to camp.

  John watched in open-mouthed astonishment as he saw Ree coming up with the lumber, but in a minute or two he discovered what his friend designed to do. With no other tools than an axe and auger he soon built a sled large and strong enough to carry all their goods.

  Ree’s idea proved an excellent one. The snow-fall was just enough to make a sled run smoothly, and by a little after sunrise “all the property of Kingdom and Jerome, Indian traders and home-seekers,” as John expressed it, was piled upon the pair of runners which the senior member of the firm had contrived, and they and Tom Fish were steadily drawing it toward their long-sought destination.

  “We must reach the Cuyahoga river by night,” Ree urged, and his own determination gave strength to himself and his companions. Up hill and down hill they hurried, tugging, perspiring, making the best speed possible through the silent forest.

  And as the sun burst through a sea of gray-black clouds, and shone brilliantly just before night’s coming, it seemed an omen of good to the little party in the wilderness, for at almost the same moment, Ree, running on a head a little way, cried: “Here we are!”

  Before the daylight closed, the site of the cabin, work on which was to begin the next day, had been selected on the long irregular mound close to the river, which has already been described.

  Ree called attention to the natural advantages of the place—its sides sloping down in three directions while on the fourth side and thirty feet below was the river. It was a point which could be defended in case of an attack, and the additional fact of the natural clearing and fertile lands surrounding it, made the place seem most desirable.

  “The’s only one thing the matter with this location,” said Tom Fish, surveying the mound from the semi-circular valley around it, as the twilight settled down. “The’s likely to be ague in a place like this, it bein’ so nigh the water. It’s a mighty good thing to steer clear of, ague is.”

  “But there are so many natural advantages,” Ree persisted, “and our cabin will be well up in the air and the sunlight.”

  “That’s a good point, Ree,” John put in, “but think of it—we will have to carry all our firewood up that hill.”

  “I’ll carry the wood if you play out, old chap,” was the answer and the matter ended by Ree having his own way, as was generally the case, not because he was selfish or obstinate, but because he was sure he was right before he made up his mind, and because he had that born spirit of leadership which gave himself and all others confidence in his decisions and actions.

  Although careful observation during the day had failed to reveal any sign of their prowling foe, whoever he might be, Ree and John agreed to divide the guard duty of the night between them. Ree took the first watch and reported all quiet when John relieved him at midnight.

  When daylight came John went a little way up the wooded hillside opposite the mound to pick up some dry wood for their fire. Suddenly he stopped and a startled look came upon his face. There in the snow were foot-prints made by moccasined feet. They followed the trail the sled had made the day before, up to the very edge of the clearing in which their camp was made.

  There, John found, as he guardedly investigated, they circled off to one side a little way, hovered about, here and there, then re-crossed the sled’s track and disappeared in the woods. What could it mean? Instantly he remembered that the foot-prints of the person who had several times fired upon their camp, had been made by boots. He hurried to the camp mentally ejaculating: “What will Tom Fish say of this?”

  Tom was still asleep, but Ree had commenced the breakfast. “It is too bad,” he said, thinking aloud, as he learned of John’s discovery. “I suppose we ought to follow those tracks if only for safety’s sake, and find out who made them, but I do hate to lose the time when we ought to be getting a cabin built.”

  The discovery was pointed out to Tom when he awoke a little later.

  “A prowlin’ Mingo!” the old hunter exclaimed as he inspected the foot-prints. “Kittens both, the’s trouble brewin’. It’s a wonder the varmint didn’t shoot. I don’t see what he’s up to, always doggin’ us this way! But I’ll tell ye what I’ll do. You lads get yer axes an’ go to work, an’ I’ll foller up them tracks. An’ bust my galluses, kittens both, I’ll give the varmint a dose as’ll make him think of his pore ol’ granddad, if I ketch him!”

  Tom’s suggestion found favor at once, though the boys could not explain the varying moods of their friend, which made him cool and courageous one day and dejected and fearful another. But breakfast being over, Tom set out.

  “Be careful,” Ree called after him. “Don’t get yourself or us into any row with the Delawares, unnecessarily.” The hunter made no answer.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XII.

  Building a Cabin.

  By reason of having been the first to see the strange foot-prints, and having come upon them, too, in the gray light of the early morning, when alone in the forest solitudes, John found it hard to shake off the dread with which they filled him. On the other hand, Ree was bright and chipper as a squirrel in the nutting season. He reasoned that the discovery of the tracks was fortunate, rather than otherwise, for it proved that their mysterious enemy was still hovering on their trail and gave them an opportunity of finding out who the wretch might be. And they now knew that they must be constantly on their guard, while except for the discovery, they might have become careless and fallen easy victims to their sneaking foe.

  So he cheered John up, and loud and clear the sounds of their axes rang out in the crisp, delightful air of the woods. Both boys threw off their coats as the healthful perspiration came to their faces and hands, and their vigor and strength seemed to grow rather than decrease as they worked. They had been careful to keep their axes sharp, and the chips flew almost in showers.

  The trees selected for cutting were those from five to eight inches in diameter, whose trunks were firm and straight. The lads would be able to handle logs of this size, while larger ones would give them trouble, especially as they no longer had a horse to draw them to the cabin site. The work would be hard at best, but no more than t
he boys had expected, and the hearty good will with which they set about the task before them, promised its speedy accomplishment in spite of obstacles.

  For mutual safety the boys remained near one another as they worked, and timber was so plentiful that their progress was not interfered with by this arrangement. Their rifles were within reach, and their eyes and ears were alert.

  The hour of noon brought a brief but pleasant rest, and the afternoon slipped quickly away. As supper time drew near, John, having had only a cold lunch at noon, was becoming very hungry and was about to mention that fact, when, instead, he suddenly seized his rifle and sprang behind a tree. At the same instant Ree did likewise.

  “As sure as shooting I heard some one cough!” exclaimed John in an undertone.

  “I heard a footstep,” Ree quietly answered.

  “Ho ho!” It was Tom Fish who called, and coming forward, he confessed that he had been trying the boys’ watchfulness by trying to steal up to them without being discovered. He was decidedly surprised to find them so quick to detect his approach, for he had scarcely come within gun shot.

  Tom declared to John, however, that he had not coughed, saying it must have been John’s alert instinct which told him that some one was drawing near, and made him imagine he heard such a sound. The boys did not agree with him, however, for he also undertook to say that Ree had not heard a footstep at all, but being keenly alive to detect the approach of anyone, had imagined he heard a noise before he really did, all through that peculiar sense which he called instinct.

  “But anyway it’s a good thing for you, Tom Fish, that you hollered when you did,” said John. “I was just on the point of giving you a dose of these lead pills that you are so everlastingly talking about!”

  Tom’s face lengthened. “You don’t want to be too quick with your pill box, boy,” said he. “You want to see what an’ who you’re shootin’ at. Great Snakes, now! What if ye had peppered away at me?”

  “Well, don’t come creeping up like a sneaking Mingo then,” laughed John, and Ree, who knew that John had not seen Tom until after he called, and had been really frightened, joined in his chum’s merriment.

  “But tell us what you found, Tom,” urged Ree.

  “Well, I’ll tell ye,” Tom slowly and very soberly answered, “I don’t know what to make of it. Them tracks was made by a redskin an’ they came straight to the camp along the trail we made yesterday. Then after leaving here, they strike off an’ go straight to the little lake across from the Delaware town, an’ there they stop. It’s plain as kin be, that some varmint from that there town has been spyin’ on us. Now was it the same critter as killed the horse, or wa‘n’t it? An’ if it was, was that critter the Buffalo chap? An’ what was he hangin’ ’round here ag’in for last night?”

  These questions furnished an abundance of material for conversation during the evening meal, but no definite answers were agreed upon. Ree would not admit that they were in danger from the Delawares, though he agreed that Big Buffalo was a bad Indian. He was quite sure, however, that Big Buffalo had not shot old Jerry, for the Indian was at the head of the party of savages he had encountered the morning after the horse was shot, and had plainly been surprised to see any white person so far west.

  But these arguments did not satisfy Tom Fish, nor was John at all sure that Ree was right.

  After supper Tom said he must go back for a deer which he had killed in the morning, a couple of miles from camp, and which he had hung up beyond the reach of the wolves, until his return. But he had made a short cut in coming back to camp and so had not secured the venison.

  John jokingly cautioned him to let them know when he approached the camp in returning, lest he be mistaken for the prowler, and Tom most soberly promised he would, and was at great pains to do so; for he was always at a loss to understand the younger of the two friends, and could not be sure whether he was in sober earnest or only joking, no matter what was said.

  The night passed without incident. Tom did more than his share of guard duty, but it became apparent next day that he did not like to wield an axe. He said he would go out for some fresh “provender” and “sort o’ earn his keep” that way.

  So while Fish went hunting, the boys toiled away. They could not complain because Tom helped so little with the cabin, for they had no right to expect it of him; they were thankful indeed, to have him keep the larder well supplied and to let him sleep during the day, for he took the part of sentinel a large part of every night. This gave the boys opportunity to secure a good rest and to rise each morning eager to continue the task of building.

  Their faithful efforts were rapidly being rewarded and in due time the logs for the cabin were all ready. These were chopped into lengths with a view to making their dwelling 12 by 14 feet—no longer than the average bedroom of modern houses, but affording all the space necessary, and being the easier to keep warm by reason of being compact.

  No time was spent on “fancy work,” as John called it, at that time. A floor and other improvements could be added later. For the main thing to be accomplished was to get a secure shelter ready as soon as possible.

  The Indian summer was long since gone, and though there were still warm, pleasant days now and then, cold rains and snow came frequently. No matter what the weather, however, the work went on, though hands and faces were cut and scratched by the brush and chapped by the raw winds.

  “Ree, you are a perfect fright,” said John with a laugh, one day. “If people from home were to see you now, they would say you would be lucky to find a scare-crow which would trade places with you. And your hair—why, it almost reaches your shoulders!”

  Ree smiled but did not at once reply. Then, looking up, he said: “Old boy, we are going back to Connecticut some day, but the time is a long way off. If we go with whole skins and with money in our pockets, it will be an easy matter to get into good clothes and to get our hair cut. What you want to do, is to watch out that some Indian barber does not cut that long hair of yours, rather closer than you like.”

  It was so seldom that Ree joked, and he spoke now in so droll a way, that Tom Fish laughed boisterously. It had been long since the boys had heard him so merry; for, though he never mentioned that subject, the remembrance of the scalp Big Buffalo had carried, seemed always on his spirits, bearing him down to a melancholy, unnatural mood.

  They did not understand it then; they did not know.

  When the time came to raise the cabin—that is, to fit the logs in place one upon another, after they had been dragged and rolled to the summit of the mound, to be in readiness, Tom’s help was found most valuable, and both Ree and John appreciated his work. But notwithstanding, they would have been better pleased had he not remained with them. He had shown so much ill-feeling toward the Indians who had come about from time to time, that there was reason to believe he would commit some rash act which would make trouble for all.

  They could not tell Tom they did not trust him. They could not tell him to go. Ree’s repeated cautions that they must avoid getting into difficulty with the redskins, were the only hints that could be given.

  Capt. Pipe himself and a large number of his braves visited the camp when the cabin was nearly finished, to make the settlement for the land the boys had engaged to buy. The young pioneers had twice sent word to him by Indians who were passing, that they wished to make their payment and enter into a final agreement, and he had at last sent messengers to say that he would visit them on a certain day. On the day before Capt. Pipe’s expected visit Ree and John went hunting to secure an abundance of meat for a feast for their guests. It was the first day they had spent away from the hard work on their cabin, except for Sundays when they bathed and gave their clothes needed attention, and no two boys ever enjoyed a holiday more. There was some snow—not enough to make walking difficult, but really an advantage to the young hunters, for it showed them the numerous tracks of the game they sought.

  To this day, men, who have heard the stories han
ded down from generation to generation, of the hunters’ paradise in what is now the Northern part of Ohio, in the years before 1800, delight to tell of the abundance of choicest game found in the valley of the Cuyahoga and about the small lakes in its vicinity, and Ree and John were in that very locality years before the white man’s axe had opened up the country to general settlement, driving the deer, the bear and wolves and all kindred animals away.

  Little wonder is it that these hardy pioneer boys were constantly reminding themselves that they must pass by many fine opportunities for a good shot, because of the necessity of saving their powder and bullets for actual use; there must be no shooting except when there was a good chance of securing game of some value.

  Little wonder is it, that, even under these circumstances, Ree, by the middle of the afternoon, had secured a deer and three turkeys besides a big rabbit which he caught in his hands as it sprang from its burrow beneath a fallen tree-top. And John had also shot a deer and had killed their first bear—a half-grown cub which, late in finding quarters for its long winter’s sleep, rose on its hind legs, growling savagely, as the boys came suddenly upon it, in passing around a great boulder in the river valley.

  In good time on a certain Tuesday in December, Capt. Pipe and his party arrived. Some of the braves were inclined to be very frolicsome and it was necessary to watch that they did not get their hands on property which was not their own.

  But their chief was all dignity. He seemed to take a fancy to Ree, who was scarcely less dignified than himself,—being so grave and quiet in his deportment, indeed, that a doughty warrior who had made up his mind to challenge him to wrestle, had not the courage to suggest the contest.

  The business of the day sat lightly on John’s mind, however, and he was full of antics as any of the redskins. It resulted in his being challenged to wrestle, and he was laid on his back in short order. Then he remembered Ree’s advice at the time he wrestled at the Delaware town, and making use of it, threw his man after a most clever and spirited contest.