CHAPTER IX
A CHANGE OF PLACES
Now came a time which Paul did not wholly understand, but which seemed tohim a period of test. The repulse of the old couple was not permanent.They came back again and again, inviting him to be their son, andpatiently endured all his rebuffs until he began to feel a kind of pityfor them. After that he was always gentle to them, but he remained firm inhis resolve that he would not become a savage, either in reality orpretense.
After a week he was allowed to walk in the village and to look uponbarbaric life, but he saw not the remotest chance of escape. The placecontained perhaps five hundred souls--men, women, children, andpapooses--and at least fifty mangy curs, every one of whom, including thepapooses and curs, seemed to Paul to be watching him. Black eyes followedhim everywhere. Nothing that he did escaped their attention. Every stepwas noted, and he knew that if he went a yard beyond the village he wouldbring a throng of warriors, squaws, and dogs upon him. But he was gratefulfor this bit of freedom, the escape from the confinement of close walls,and the forest about them, glowing with autumnal foliage, looked cool andinviting. He saw nothing of Braxton Wyatt, but Red Eagle told him one daythat he had gone northward with a band, hunting. "He good boy," said RedEagle. Paul shuddered with disgust.
More than two weeks passed thus, and it seemed to Paul that he was notonly lost to his own world, but forgotten by it. Kentucky and all hisfriends had dipped down under the horizon, and would never reappear. Henryand Ross and Shif'less Sol would certainly have come for him if theycould, but perhaps they had fallen, slain in the night battle. His heartstood still at the thought, but he resolutely put it away. It did not seemto him that one of such strength and skill as Henry Ware could be killed.
Paul sat on a rock about the twilight hour one day, and watched the sunsinking into the dark forest. He was inexpressibly lonely, as if forsakenof men. Savage life still left him untouched. It made no appeal to himanywhere, and he longed for Wareville, and his kind, which he was now surehe would never see again. Behind him rose the usual hum of thevillage--the barking of dogs, the chatter of squaws, and the occasionalgrunt of a warrior. In their way, these people were cheerful. Unlike Paul,they were living the only life they knew and liked, and had no thoughts ofa better.
The lonely boy rose from the rock and walked back toward the pole hut, inwhich they fastened him every night. It had become a habit with him now,and he knew that it saved useless resistance and a lot of trouble. Had hetaken a single step toward the forest instead of his own prison hut, ascore of watchful eyes would have been upon him.
The twilight melted into the dark, and fires gleamed here and there in thevillage. Dusky figures passed before and behind the fires--those of squawscooking the suppers. Paul's eyes wandered, idle and unobserving, over thesavage scene, and then he uttered a little cry of impatience as a hulkingwarrior lurched against him. The man seemed to have tripped upon a root,an unusual thing for these sure-footed sons of the forest, and Paul drewback from him. But the savage recovered himself, and in a low voice said:
"Paul!"
Paul Cotter started violently. It was the first word in good English thathe had heard in a time that seemed to be eternity--save those of BraxtonWyatt, whom he hated--and the effect upon him was overpowering. It waslike a voice of hope coming suddenly from another world.
"Paul," continued the voice, now warningly, "don't speak. Go on to yourhut. Friends are by."
Then the hulking and savage figure walked away, and Paul knew enough totake no apparent notice, but to continue on as if that welcome voice Hadnot come out of the darkness. Yet a thousand little pulses within him werethrobbing, throbbing with joy and hope.
But whose was the voice? In his excitement he had not noticed the toneexcept to note that it was a white man's. He glanced back and saw thehulking form near the outskirts of the village, but the light was too dimto disclose anything. Henry? No, it was not Henry's figure. Then who wasit? A friend, that was certain, and he had said that other friends wereby.
Paul walked with a light step to his prison hut, sedulously seeking tohide the exultation in his face. He was not forgotten in his world! Hisfriends were ready to risk their lives for him! His heart was leaping ashe looked through the dusk at the smoking camp fires, the dim huts andtepees, and the shadowy figures that passed and repassed. He would soon beleaving all that savage life. He never doubted it.
He came to his prison hut, went calmly inside, and a few minutes later,the regular time being at hand, the door was fastened on the outside byRed Eagle or some of his people. He might perhaps have forced the door inthe night, but he had not considered himself a skillful enough woodsman toslip from the village unobserved, and accordingly he had waited. Now hewas very glad of his restraint.
Paul lay down on the couch of skins, but he was not seeking sleep. Insteadhe was waiting patiently, with something of Indian stoicism. He sawthrough the cracks in his hut the Indian fires, yet burning and smoking,and the dim figures still passing and repassing. There was also the fainthum to tell him that savage life did not yet sleep, and now and then amongrel cur barked. But all things end in time, and after a while thesenoises ceased; even the cure barked no more, and the smoking fires sanklow.
The Indian village lay at peace, but Paul's heart throbbed withexpectation. Nor did it throb in vain. A muffled sound appeared in time athis door. It was some one at work on the fastenings, and Paul listenedwith every nerve a-quiver. Presently the noise ceased, a shaft of palenight light showed, and then was gone. But the door had been opened, andthen closed, and some one was inside.
Paul waited without fear. He could barely see a dark, shapeless outlinewithin the dimness of his hut, but he was sure it was the figure of theslouching warrior who had bumped against him. The man stood a moment ortwo, seeking to pierce the dusk with his own eyes, and then he said in alow voice:
"Paul! Paul! Is it you?"
"Yes," replied Paul, in the same guarded tone, "but I don't know who youare."
The figure swayed a little and laughed low, but with much amusement.
"It 'pears to me that we are forgot purty soon," it said. "An' I've workedhard fur a tired man."
Then Paul knew the familiar, whimsical tone. The light had burst upon himall at once.
"Shif'less Sol!" he exclaimed.
"Jest me," said Sol; "an' ain't I about the purtiest Shawnee warrior youever saw? Why, Paul, I'm so good at playin' a loafin' savage from someother village that nary a Shawnee o' them all has dreamed that I am what Iain't. If ever I go back thar in the East, I'm goin' to be a play-actor,Paul."
"You can be anything on earth you want to be, Sol!" said Paul jubilantly."It was mighty good of you to come."
"You'd a-thought Henry would a-come," whispered Sol; "but we decided thathe was too tall an' somehow too strikin'-lookin' to come in here ez acommon, everyday Injun, so it fell to me to loaf in, me bein' atired-lookin' sort o' feller, anyway. But they're out thar in the woodsa-waitin', Henry an' Tom Ross an' that ornery cuss, Jim Hart."
"I knew that you fellows would never desert me!" exclaimed Paul.
"Why, o' course not!" said Sol. "We never dreamed o' leavin' you. Now,Paul, we've got to git through this village somehow or other. Lucky it'spurty dark, an' you'll have to do your best to walk an' look like a Red.Maybe we kin git fur enough to make a good run fur it, and then, with thewoods an' the night helpin' us, we may give them the slip. Here, takethis."
He pressed something cold and hard into Paul's hand, and Paul slipped thepistol into his belt, standing erect and feeling himself much of a man.
"It's time to be goin'," said Shif'less Sol.
"I'm ready," said Paul.
But neither took more than a single step forward, stopping together asthey heard a light noise at the door.
"Thunder an' lightnin'!" said Shif'less Sol, under his breath. "Somebody'ssuspectin'."
"It looks like it," breathed Paul.
"Lay down on the skins and pretend to be asleep," said Shif
'less Sol.
Paul lay down on the couch at once, in the attitude of one who slumbers,and closed his eyes--all but a little. Shif'less Sol shoved himself intothe corner, and blotted out his figure against the wall.
The door opened and Braxton Wyatt stepped in. What decree of fate hadcaused him to be spying about that night, and what had caused him to findthe door of Paul's prison hut unfastened? He stood a few moments, tryingto accustom his eyes to the dark, and he plainly heard the regularbreathing of Paul on the bed of skins. Presently he saw the dim, recumbentfigure also. But he was still suspicious, and he took a step nearer. Thena big form, projected somewhere from the dark, hurled itself upon him, andhe was thrown headlong to the earthen floor. Strong fingers compressed histhroat, and he gasped for breath.
"Here, Paul," said Sol, "tear off a piece o' that skin an' stuff it intohis mouth."
Paul, who had leaped to his feet, obeyed at once.
"An' cut off some stout strips o' the same with this knife o' mine," saidShif'less Sol.
Paul again obeyed at once, and in three minutes Braxton Wyatt lay boundand gagged on the earthen floor. Shif'less Sol Hyde and Paul Cotter stoodover him, and looked down at him, and even in the dark they saw the terrorof all things in his eyes.
"The Lord has been good to us to-night, Paul," said Shif'less Sol, with acertain solemnity, "an' He wuz best o' all when He sent this hound herea-spyin'."
"You know what he is?" said Paul.
"Ef I don't know, I've guessed."
Then the two stood silent for a little space, still gazing down at BraxtonWyatt, bound and gagged. Paul had never before seen such stark dread inthe eyes of any one, and he shuddered. Despite himself, he felt a certainamount of pity.
"He would have lured a boat-load of our people into the hands of thesavages," he said.
"I'll put this knife in his foul heart, Paul," said Shif'less Sol.
The bound figure quivered in its bonds, and the eyes became wild andappealing.
"No, not that," replied Paul; "I couldn't bear to see anyone helpless putto death."
"It was just the thought uv a moment," said Shif'less Sol. "We've got abetter use fur him. It's the one that the Lord sent him here fur. Now,Paul, help me strip off his huntin' shirt."
They took off Braxton Wyatt's hunting shirt, leggins, and cap, and Paulput them on, his own taking their place on the form of the gagged youth.
"Now, Paul," said Shif'less Sol, "you're Braxton Wyatt--for a littlewhile, at least, you've got to stand it--an' he's you. Help me roll him upthar on your bed o' skins, an' he kin sleep in calm an' peace until theybring him his breakfast in the mornin'."
They put Wyatt on the couch, and his eyes glared fiercely at them. Hestruggled to speak, but they did not care to hear him. Sol took theweapons from his belt and gave them to Paul.
"Good-night, Braxton," said Shif'less Sol pleasantly. "Fine dreams to you.We're glad you came. You happened in jest in time."
Wyatt quivered convulsively on his bed of skins. Paul was filled withrepugnance, but he would not exult. His nature would not permit him.Shif'less Sol opened the door, and the two stepped out into the open airand a dark night. No one was about, and the shiftless one deliberatelyfastened the doors on the outside in the usual manner. Then he and Paulstrolled away through the village.
"Remember that you are Braxton Wyatt," whispered Shif'less Sol. "Walk eznear like him ez you kin. You've seen him often enough to know."
The two sauntered lazily forward. An old squaw, crouched by a low andsmoking fire, gave one glance at them, but no more. She went on dreamingof the days when she was young, and when the braves fought for her. Amangy cur barked once, and then lay down again at the foot of a deer-skinlodge. A warrior, smoking a pipe in his own doorway, looked up, but sawnothing unusual, and then looked down again.
The coolness of Shif'less Sol was something wonderful to see. He merelyloafed along, as if he had no object in the world but to pass away thetime, and there was nothing in the course he chose to indicate that hemeant to reach the forest. Now and then he spoke apparently casual wordsto Paul, and the boy, in the faint light, wearing Braxton Wyatt's clothes,might easily pass for Braxton Wyatt himself, even to the keen eyes of theShawnees.
Presently they reached the northern end of the village, the one nearest tothe forest, and it was here that Shif'less Sol intended to make theescape. Paul kept close to him, and he noticed with joy that all the timethe light, already faint, was growing fainter. The friendly forest seemedto curve very near. Paul's heart throbbed with painful violence.
Shif'less Sol passed the last wigwam, and he took a step into the openspace that divided them from the forest. Paul stepped with him, but agaunt and weazened figure rose up in their path. It was that of the oldsquaw who wished a new son, and she stared for a few moments at theclothes of Braxton Wyatt, and the figure within them. Then she knew, andshe uttered a shrill cry that was at once a lament and a warning. At thesame time she flung her arms around Paul in a gesture that was intendedalike for affection and detention.
"Run, Paul, run!" exclaimed Shif'less Sol.
Paul attempted to throw off the old woman, but she clung to him like awild cat, showing marvelous strength and tenacity for one so little andweazened and old. Shif'less Sol saw the difficulty and, seizing her in hispowerful grasp, tore her loose.
"Don't hurt her, Sol!" cried Paul.
Shif'less Sol understood, and he cast her from them, but not withviolence. Then the two ran with utmost speed and desperate need toward theforest, because the village behind them was up and alive. Lights flared,dogs barked, men shouted, and before the friendly trees were reachedrifles began to crack.
"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" cried Shif'less Sol, as a bullet whistled past hisear. "Ef that don't put life into a tired man, I don't know what will."
He ran with amazing swiftness, and Paul, light-footed, kept beside him.But the alert Shawnee warriors, ever quick to answer an alarm, werealready in fleet pursuit, and only the darkness kept their bullets fromstriking true. Paul looked back once--even in the moment of haste anddanger he could not help it--and he saw three warriors in advance of theothers, coming so fast that they must overtake them. He and Sol might beatthem off, but one cannot fight well and at the same time escape from amultitude. His heart sank. He would be recaptured, and with him thegallant Shif'less Sol.
Flashes of fire suddenly appeared in the forest toward which they ran, anddeath cries came from the two warriors who pursued. Shif'less Sol utteredan exultant gasp.
"The boys!" he said. "They're thar in the woods, a-helpin'."
Daunted by the sudden covering fire, the pursuing mob fell back for a fewmoments, and the two fugitives plunged into the deep and friendly shadowsof the woods. Three figures, all carrying smoking rifles, rose up to meetthem. The figures were those of Henry Ware, Tom Ross, and Jim Hart. Henryreached out his hand and gave Paul's a strong and joyous grasp.
"Well, Sol has brought you!" he said.
"But Sol's not goin' to stop runnin' yet for a long time, tired ez he is,"gasped the shiftless one.
"Good advice," said Henry, laughing low, and without another word the fiveran swiftly and steadily northward through the deep woods. Henry had onhis shoulder an extra rifle, which he had brought for Paul, so confidentwas he that Sol would save him; but he said nothing about it for thepresent, preferring to carry the added weight himself. They heard behindthem two or three times the long-drawn, terrible cry with which Paul wasso familiar, but it did not now send any quiver through him. He was withthe ever-gallant comrades who had come for him, and he was ready to defyany danger.
Henry Ware, after a while, stopped very suddenly, and the others stoppedwith him.
"I think we'd better turn here," he said, unconsciously assuming hisnatural position of leader. "It's not worth while to run ourselves todeath. What we've got to do is to hide."
"Them's blessed words!" gasped Shif'less Sol. "I wuz never so tired in allmy born days. Seems to me I've been chased by Shawnee
s all over this herecontinent of North Ameriky!"
Paul laughed low, from pure pleasure--pleasure at his escape and pleasurein the courage, loyalty, and skill of his comrades.
"You may be tired, Sol," he said, "but there was never a braver man thanyou."
"It ain't bravery," protested the shiftless one. "I get into these thingsafore I know it, an' then I've got to kick like a mule to get out o' 'em."
But Paul merely laughed low again.
Henry turned from the north to the west, and led now at a pace that waslittle more than a walk. Paul and Sol drew deep breaths, as they felt theheavenly air flowing back into their lungs and the spring returning totheir muscles. They went in Indian file, five dusky figures in the shadow,a faint moonlight touching them but wanly, and all silent. Thus theymarched until past midnight, and they heard nothing behind them. Thentheir leader stopped, and the others, without a word, stopped with him.
"I think we've shaken 'em off," said Henry, "and we'd better rest andsleep. Then we can make up our plans."
"Good enough," said Shif'less Sol. "An' ef any man wakes me up afore nextweek, I'll hev his scalp."
He sank down at once in his buckskins on a particularly soft piece ofturf, and in an incredibly brief space of time he was sound asleep. JimHart, doubling up his long, thin figure like a jackknife, imitated him,and Paul was not long in following them to slumberland. Only Henry andRoss remained awake and watchful, and by and by the moonlight came out andsilvered their keen and anxious faces.
The Forest Runners: A Story of the Great War Trail in Early Kentucky Page 9