The Forest Runners: A Story of the Great War Trail in Early Kentucky

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XVI

  NOEL

  The snow fell three days and nights without ceasing, and they rejoicedgreatly over their foresight in preparing so well for it, because it was abig snow, a very big snow. "It ain't jest snowin'," said Shif'less Sol;"the bottom o' the sky hez dropped out, an' all the snow's tumblin' down."

  The great flakes never ceased for a moment to fall. The sun did not get asingle chance to shine, and as fast as one cloud was emptied, another,huge and black, was drawn in its place across the sky. The island ceasedto be an island, because the snow heaped up on the frozen surface of thelake, and it was impossible to tell where land ended and water began. Theboughs of the trees bent and cracked beneath their load, and some fell tothe ground. At times the sound of snapping boughs was like stray rifleshots.

  Paul watched the snow deepen before their door. First an inch, then two,then four, then six, and on and on. The roof began to strain and creakominously beneath the great weight. All rushed forth at once into thestorm, and with poles and their rude shovels they thrust the great mass ofaccumulated snow from the roof. This task they repeated at intervalsthroughout the three days, but they had little else to do, except cook,eat, and sleep. They had recourse again to the chessmen and Paul'sstories, and they reverted often to their friends and relatives atWareville.

  "At any rate," said Henry, "Kentucky is safe so long as this great snowlasts. What holds us holds the Shawnees and the Miamis, too; they can't gosouth through it."

  "That's so," said Paul, with intense satisfaction, as he ran over all thechances of success or failure in their great task.

  At the end of the third day the snow ceased. It lay three feet deep on thelevel, and deeper in the hollows and gullies. Then all the clouds floatedaway, the sun came out, and the whole world was a dazzling globe of white,so intense that it hurt Paul's eyes.

  "We've got to guard against snow-blindness," said Shif'less Sol, "an' I'mthinkin' o' a plan that'll keep us from sufferin'."

  He procured small pieces of wood, and fitted them together so there wouldbe only a narrow slit between. These were placed over the eyes likespectacles, and fastened with deerskin string, tied behind the head. Therange of vision was then very narrow, but all the glare from the snow wasshut out. Shif'less Sol unconsciously had imitated a device employed bythe Esquimaux of the far north to protect their eyesight. Sets were madefor all, and they used them a few days until their eyes grew accustomed tothe glare.

  All had a great sense of coziness and warmth. The snow pushed from theroof had gone to reinforce that on the ground, and it now lay heaped upbeside the house to a depth of five or six feet, adding to the snugnessand security of their walls. They had gathered an ample supply offirewood, and a deep bed of coals always threw out a mellow and satisfyingglow.

  They did not spend their time in idleness. The narrow confines of theirhouse would soon grow irksome to five able-bodied boys and men, and everyone of them knew it. They went forth with rude wooden shovels, and beganto clear paths in the snow--one to a point among the trees where thefallen brushwood lay thickest, another to the edge of the lake, where theybroke holes in the ice and caught pickerel, and two or three more tovarious points around their little domain. This task gave them healthyoccupation for two or three days, and on the fourth day, while Henry,Ross, and Jim Hart were fishing, Paul and Shif'less Sol sat together inthe house.

  "This snow is goin' to last a long time, Paul," said Sol, "an' we've gotto stay here till at least most o' it's gone. The warriors won't bemovin', nor will we. While we're idlin', I wish we had three or four o'them books that your father an' Mr. Pennypacker brought over the mountainswith 'em."

  "So do I," said Paul, with a sigh. He was thinking of an interminableromance, translated from the French of a certain Mademoiselle de Scudery,which his teacher, Mr. Pennypacker, had among his possessions, and whichhe had once secretly shown to Paul, who was his favorite pupil. But headded, resignedly: "You'd never find a book in all this region up here,Sol. We'd better make up our minds to some monotonous days."

  Shif'less Sol had been leaning lazily against a heap of firewood, andsuddenly he sat up with a look of interest in his eyes. His acute ear haddetected a sound on the hill above them--a faint crunching in the snow.

  "It's one o' the boys, I s'pose," he said. "Now, I wonder what he wantsto be tramping around in the deep snow up thar fur."

  "Yes, I hear him," said Paul, "and he's lumbering about queerly."

  "He's comin' down toward the house," said Shif'less Sol. "Now, what inthunder is that?"

  There was the sound of an angry "snuff!" a sudden, wild threshing in thesnow, and the next instant a tremendous weight struck the roof of theirhouse. A rending of bark and thatch followed, and a massive black formshot down into the center of the room and lay there a moment, stunned.Paul, too, was dizzy. He had been struck a glancing blow on the shoulderby the big black body in its fall, and hurled into a heap of furs.Shif'less Sol had been sent spinning in another direction.

  When both rose to their feet the big black body also rose, growlingsavagely and extending long, powerful paws, armed with cruel claws. Abear, prowling in the snow, had fallen through the roof of their house,and it was furiously angry.

  "Jump back, Paul, jump back!" shouted Shif'less Sol, "an' get to the door,ef you kin!"

  Paul obeyed a part of his command instinctively and sprang away, just intime to escape the cruel claws. But he was compelled to press against thewall. The enraged animal was between him and the door. Shif'less Solhimself was darting here and there in an effort to keep out of the way.Both Paul's rifle and Shif'less Sol's stood in a corner far from reach.

  The bear, blind with rage, fright, and astonishment, whirled aroundripping into the air with his long claws. The man and the boy not able toreach the door, hopped about like jumping jacks, and the cold air poureddown upon them from the huge hole in their damaged roof. The bear suddenlyran into Jim Hart's furnace and uttered a roar of pain. He stopped for amoment to lick his singed flank, and Shif'less Sol, seizing theopportunity, leaped for his rifle. He grasped it, and the next instant thecabin roared with the rifle shot. The great bear uttered a whining cry,plucked once or twice at his breast, and then stretched himself out infront of Jim Hart's furnace, quite dead. Paul stopped dancing to and fro,and uttered a gasp of relief.

  "You got that rifle just in time, Sol," he said.

  "We shorely did need a gun," Shif'less Sol said. "I guess nobody ever hada more sudden or unwelcome visitor than you an' me did, Paul. But Ibelieve that thar b'ar wuz ez bad skeered ez we wuz."

  "And just look at our house," said Paul ruefully. "Half the roof smashedin, our furs and our food supplies thrown in every direction, and a bigbear stretched out in front of our fire."

  They heard the patter of swift footsteps outside, and the three fishing atthe lake, who had heard the shot, came in, running.

  "It's nothin', boys," said Shif'less Sol carelessly. "A gentleman livin'in these parts, but a stranger to us, came into our house uninvited. Hewouldn't go away when we axed him to, most earnest, so we've jest put himto sleep."

  Ross pushed the bear with his foot.

  "He's fat yet," he said, "an' he ought to be in winter quarters right now.Somethin' must have driv him out uv his hole an' have sent him wanderin'across the lake on the ice an' snow. That's what anybody gits fur notstayin' whar he belongs."

  "An' ef Jim Hart had stayed whar he belongs--that is, right here in thishouse, cookin'--he'd have got that b'ar on his back, an' not me," saidShif'less Sol, rubbing the bruised place.

  "That's once I wuz luckier than you wuz, Sol Hyde," said Jim Hart,chuckling.

  "We've got a lot of fresh bear steak," said Henry Ware, "but we'll have toclean up all this mess, and rebuild our house, just as soon as we can."

  They set to work at once. All, through forest life, had become skillful insuch tasks, and it did not take them long to rethatch the roof. But theymade it stronger than ever with cross-poles. Ingenious Sol cut up the
bearhide, and made of it stout leggings for them all, which would serve in theplace of boots for wading in the deep snow.

  Then the camp returned to its wonted calm. But a few days later, Shif'lessSol, who had been unusually grave, called Paul aside and asked him to walkwith him up the path to the hickory trees. When they arrived there, farout of hearing of the others, Shif'less Sol said:

  "Do you know what day this is, Paul?"

  "Why, no, Sol," replied Paul. "What does it matter?"

  "It matters a heap," said Shif'less Sol, not departing one whit from hisgrave manner. "I know what day it is. I've kept count. See here!"

  He pointed to a hickory tree. Clear and smooth was gash after gash, cut inthe bark, one above another, by Sol with his stout knife.

  "Every one o' them is a day," said Shif'less Sol, "an' to-day is the 24thof December. Now, what is to-morrow, Paul Cotter?"

  "The 25th of December--Christmas Day."

  "An' oughtn't we to hev Christmas, too, even ef we are up here in the wildwoods, all by ourselves? Don't this look like Christmas?"

  Paul looked around at the glittering and magnificent expanse of whitewilderness. There was snow, snow everywhere. The trees were robed in it,unstained. It was a world of peace and beauty, and it _did_ look likeChristmas. They were preparing for it at Wareville at this verymoment--the settlers were a religious people, and from the first theycelebrated the great religious festival.

  "Yes, Sol," he replied, "it does look like Christmas, and we ought tocelebrate it, too."

  "I'm glad you think ez I do," said Sol, in a tone of relief. "I wanted tohear what you thought o' it, Paul, afore I broached it to the other boys.We've got a lot to be glad about. We're all here, sound an' well, an'though we've been through a power o' dangers, we ain't sufferin' now."

  "That's so," said Paul.

  "Then we'll tell the boys right now."

  They walked back to the cabin, and Shif'less Sol announced the date to theothers, who agreed at once that Christmas should be celebrated by themthere on their little island in the wilderness. All were touched in a wayby the solemnity of the event, and they began to feel how strong was thetie that united them.

  "We must have a big Christmas dinner," said Jim Hart, "an' I'll cook it."

  "An' I'll help you," said Shif'less Sol.

  "And I," added Paul.

  That evening they sat around the fire, talking in the mellow glow; buttheir talk was not of the Indians, nor of the chase, nor of themselves,but of those behind at Wareville. Paul shut his eyes and looked dreamilyinto the fire. He could see the people at the settlement getting ready forthe great festival, preparing little gifts, and the children crawlingreluctantly into their homemade trundle, or box beds. He felt at thatmoment a deep kindness toward all things.

  They covered up the ashes after a while, and then, in the darkness, everyone in his turn laid out some little gift for the others--a clasp knife, apowderhorn, a prized deerskin, or something else that counted among hispossessions. But no one was to look until the morning, and soon all fellasleep.

  They were up the next day at the first sight of dawn, and compared theirgifts with great rejoicings. Shif'less Sol had presented to Jim Hart asplendid clasp knife, a valuable possession in the wilderness, as a tokenof his great friendship and exceeding high regard, and Jim was like achild in his delight. In fact, there was something of the child, or ratherof the child's simplicity, in all of them.

  The Christmas dinner was a signal triumph in Jim Hart's life. Capablyassisted by Paul and Shif'less Sol, he labored on it most of the day, andat last they sat down to a magnificent wilderness table of buffalo hump,venison, squirrel, rabbit, fish, wild turkey, and other kinds of game,flanked by bread baked of the Indian meal, and finished off with the nutsPaul had gathered. Forest and lake had yielded bounteously, and they atelong and happily.

  "Why anybody wants to live back thar in the East in the towns is more'n Ican understand," said Shif'less Sol. "You've got room to breathe here, an'the fat game is runnin' roun' in the woods, jest beggin' you to stick aknife in its back an' eat it."

  Paul laughed.

  "How about the danger from the Indians, Sol?" asked Paul.

  "You don't expect to have a perfect world here below, do you, Paul?"replied Shif'less Sol. "Thar ain't never nothin' without a thorn in it,but our thorn is about ez little a one ez you could think of. The Injunsgive us a kind o' excitin' variety, an' don't we always get away from'em?"

  No more work was done that day, and in the evening they went to sleepearlier than usual, and slept very soundly. A moon of pure silver cameout, and bathed all the vast wilderness in its light. A huge, yellowpanther, lean and fierce with hunger, wandered in the snow across thefrozen lake, and put foot upon the island. There the pleasant odor of foodcame to his nostrils, and he lifted up his ears. As the pleasant odor cameagain his tawny eyes became more ferocious, and the lips curled back fromthe rows of cruel, white teeth. He drew his long, lithe body over thesnow, and came to one of the paths. He might have turned back because thepath was strong with the odor of a strange and perhaps powerful creature;but he was a very hungry, a very large, and a very bold panther, and hewent on.

  The path led straight to the cabin, and the panther trod it on noiselesspads, his eyes glowing, and hunger attacking him all the more fiercelybecause, mingled with the strange, new odor now came many odors that heknew, and all pleasant--odor of buffalo and deer and others--and he wasvery, very hungry.

  He went down the path to the door of the cabin, and halted a moment there.A red gleam, a glow from the bed of coals, came through a chink beside thedoor, and it filled his heart with terror. He shivered, and fear drew alow growl from him.

  One of the five sleepers inside stirred and sat up. He listened and hearda heavy breathing at the door. Then he arose, took a brand from the fire,stepped noiselessly to the door, and, opening it, rushed out, waving theburning brand in front of him. The panther, stricken with frightful panic,fled down the path, and then over the lake into the woods on the mainland.Henry Ware, laughing silently, returned to the cabin and lay down to sleepagain beside his comrades, who had slept on, undisturbed.