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

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE FLIGHT OF LONG JIM

  Although the terrible ford had been won, Henry Ware knew that the dangerwas far from over. The savages, caught on the flank and shot down fromabove, had yielded to momentary panic, but they would come again. To anysouls less daring than this band of pioneers, the situation would havebeen truly appalling. They were in the vast and unknown wilderness,surrounded everywhere by the black forest, with the horde, hungry forslaughter, still hanging upon their flanks; but among them all, scarce onewoman or child showed a craven heart.

  Led by Henry Ware, the wagons filed into an open space--a plain or littleprairie--about a quarter of a mile beyond the ford, and there, stillfollowing his instructions, they drew up in a circle. He considered thisopen space a godsend, as no marksmen hidden in the woods could reach themthere with a bullet. As soon as the circle was completed, the women andchildren poured forth from the wagons, and began to join the men infortifying. There was mingled joy for victory and grief for loss. They hadleft dead behind in the river, and they had brought more with them; ofwounds, except those that threatened to be mortal, they took little count.Even as they worked, scattering shots were fired from the forest, but theypaid no heed to them, as all the bullets fell short.

  Right in the center of the circle, inclosed by the wagons, a half dozenchosen spademen dug a deep hole, and then the dead were brought forth,ready for burial. A minister prayed and the women sang. Overhead, the latesun burned brilliant and red, and from the forest, as a kind of sternchorus, came the pattering rifle shots. But the last ceremony, all themore solemn and impressive because of these sights and sounds, went onunbroken. The dead were buried deep, then covered over, and the groundtrodden that none might disturb their rest. Then all turned to the livingneed.

  The five, barring slight scratches suffered by Ross and Shif'less Sol, hadescaped unhurt, and now they labored with the others to throw up the wallof earth about the wagons. A spring took its rise in the center of theplain, and flowed down to the river. This spring was within the circle ofthe wagons, and they were assured of plenty of water.

  Henry Ware looked over the crowd, and he rejoiced at their spirits, whichhad not been dampened by the sight of their dead. They had foughtmagnificently, and they were ready to fight again. Already fires wereburning within the circle of the wagons, and the women were cookingsupper. The pleasant odor of food arose, and men began to eat. Daniel Poe,as usual, turned to Henry.

  "You are sure that they will make a new attack?" he said.

  "Yes," replied Henry. "They have not come so far to retire after onerepulse. We outflanked them there at the river, but they think that theywill certainly get us, burdened as we are with the women and children.It's still a long road to Wareville."

  "We can never repay the debt we owe to you and your comrades," said DanielPoe.

  "Don't think of it. It's the thing that we were bound to do."

  Daniel Poe looked at the setting sun, now red like blood. Far over thewestern forest twilight shadows were coming.

  "I wish this night was over," he said.

  "If they attack we'll beat them off," said Henry confidently.

  "But the cost, the cost!" murmured Daniel Poe.

  Paul meanwhile was within the circle of wagons, in his great role ofsustainer. He had fought like a paladin in the battle, and now he wastelling what a great fight they had made, and what a greater one theycould make, if need be. High spirits seemed to flow spontaneously fromhim, and the others caught the infection. More than one Amazon looked athim affectionately, as she would have looked at a son. Shif'less Soljoined him as he stood by one of the fires.

  "I've been workin' out thar with a spade more'n an hour," said theshiftless one in a tone of deep disgust, "an' I'm tired plumb to death.I'll lay down before that fire an' sleep till mornin', ef every one uv youwill promise not to say a word an' won't disturb me."

  A laugh arose.

  "Why, Mr. Hyde," exclaimed one of the Amazons, "they say there was not amore industrious man in the battle than you."

  "Wa'al," said Shif'less Sol, slowly and reflectively, "a man, ef he'scrowded into a corner, will fight ef his life depends on it, but I kincome purty near to livin' without work."

  "You deserve your sleep, Mr. Hyde," said the woman. "Just stretch outthere before the fire."

  "I'll stretch out, but I won't sleep," said the shiftless one.

  He was as good as his word, and admiring hands brought him food, which heate contentedly. Presently he said in a low voice to Paul:

  "That's right, Paul, hearten 'em up. They've got a lot to stand yet, an'it's courage that counts."

  Paul knew this truth full well, and he went back and forth in the circle,ever performing his chosen task, while Henry outside planned and laboredincessantly for the defense against a new attack. Fifty men, sharp of eyeand ear, were selected to watch through half the night, when fifty more,also sharp of eye and ear, were to take their places. All the others wereto sleep, if they could, in order that they might be strong and fresh forwhat the next day would bring forth.

  The scattering fire from the forest ceased, and everything there becamesilent. No dusky forms were visible to the defenders. The sun droppedbehind the hills, and night, thick and dark, came over the earth. Thepeace of the world was strange and solemn, and those in the beleagueredcamp felt oppressed by the darkness and the mystery. They could not seeany enemies or hear any, and after a while they began to argue that sincethe savages could no longer be seen or heard, they must have gone away.But Henry Ware only laughed as they told him so.

  "They have not gone," he said to Daniel Poe, "nor will they go to-nightnor to-morrow nor the next night. This train, when it starts in themorning, must be a moving fort."

  Daniel Poe sighed. As always, he believed what Henry Ware said, and theprospect did not invite.

  The darkness and the silence endured. The keenest of the watchers saw andheard nothing. The moon came out and the earth lightened, then darkenedagain as clouds rolled across the heavens; the camp fires sank, and,despite their alarms, many slept. The wounded, all of whom had receivedthe rude but effective surgery of the border, were quiet, and the wholecamp bore the aspect of peace. Paul slipped from the circle, and joinedHenry outside the earthwork.

  "Do you see anything, Henry?" he said.

  "No, but I've heard," replied Henry, who had just come out of thedarkness. "The Shawnees are before us, the Miamis behind us, and thewarriors of the smaller tribes on either side. The night may pass withoutanything happening, or it may not. But we have good watchers."

  Paul stayed with him a little while, but, at Henry's urgent request, hewent back inside the circle, wrapped himself in a blanket and lay down,his face upturned to the cloudy skies which he did not see. He did notthink he could sleep. His brain throbbed with excitement, and his vividimagination was wide awake. Despite the danger, he rejoiced to be there;rejoiced that he and his comrades should help in the saving of all thesepeople. The spiritual exaltation that he felt at times swept over him.Nevertheless, all the pictures faded, his excited nerves sank to rest,and, with his face still upturned to the cloudy skies, he slept.

  Far after midnight a sudden ring of fire burst from the dark forest, andwomen and children leaped up at the crash of many rifles. Shouting theirwar whoop, the tribesmen rushed upon the camp; but the fifty sentinels,sheltered by the earthwork, met them with a fire more deadly than theirown, and in a moment the fifty became more than two hundred.

  Red Eagle and Yellow Panther had hoped for a surprise, but when theunerring volleys met them, they sank back again into the forest, carryingtheir dead with them.

  "You were right," said Daniel Poe to Henry Ware; "they will not leave us."

  "Not while they think there is a chance to overpower us. But we've shown'em they can't count on a surprise."

  The camp, except the watchers, went back to sleep, and the night passedaway without a second alarm. Dawn came, gray and cloudy, and the peopleof the train awoke t
o their needs, which they faced bravely. Breakfast wascooked and eaten, and then the wagons, in a file of four, took up theirmarch, a cloud of keen-eyed and brave skirmishers on every side. The trainhad truly become what Henry said it must be, a moving fort; and, thoughthe savages opened fire in the woods, they dared not attack in force, soresolute and sure-eyed were the skirmishers and so strong a defense werethe heavy wagons.

  All day long this terrible march proceeded, the women and childrensheltered in the wagons, and the savages, from the shelter of the forest,keeping up an irregular but unceasing fire on the flanks. The whiteskirmishers replied often with deadly effect, but it grew galling, almostunbearable. The Indians, who were accustomed either to rapid success orrapid retreat, showed an extraordinary persistence, and Henry suspectedthat Braxton Wyatt was urging them on. As he thought of the effect ofthese continued attacks upon the train, he grew anxious. The bravestspirit could be worn down by them, and he sought in vain for a remedy.

  They camped the second night in an open place, and fortified, as before,with a circular earthwork; but they were harried throughout all the hoursof darkness by irregular firing and occasional war whoops. Fewer peopleslept that night than had slept the night before. Nerves were raw andsuffering, and Paul found his chosen task a hard one. But he workedfaithfully, going up and down within the fortified circle, cheering,heartening, and predicting a better day for the morrow.

  That day came, cloudless and brilliant above, but to the accompaniment ofshouts, shots, and alarms below. Once more the terrible march was resumed,and the savages still hung mercilessly on their flanks. Henry, withanxious heart, noticed a waning of spirit, though not of courage, in thetrain. The raw nerves grew rawer. This incessant marching forward betweenthe very walls of death could not be endured forever. Again he sought away out. Such a way they must have, and at last he believed that he hadfound it. But he said nothing at present, and the train, edged on eitherside with fire and smoke, went on through the woods.

  A third time they camped in an open space, a third time they fortified;but now, after the supper was over, Henry called a council of the leaders.

  "We cannot go on as we have been going," he said. "The savages hang to uswith uncommon tenacity, and there are limits to human endurance."

  Daniel Poe shook his head sadly. The awful lacerating process had neverceased. More men were wounded, and the spirits of all grew heavier andheavier. Paul still walked among the fires, seeking to cheer and inspire,but he could do little. Dread oppressed the women and children, and theysat mostly in silence. Outside, an occasional whoop came from the depthsof the forest, and now and then a rifle was fired. The night was comingon, thick and ominous. The air had been heavy all the day, and now somberclouds were rolling across the sky. At intervals flashes of lightningflared low down on the black forest. Heavy and somber, like the skies,were the spirits of all the people. A wounded horse neighed shrilly, andin an almost human voice, as he died.

  "We must take a new step," said Henry; "things cannot go on this way. Itis yet a hundred and fifty miles, perhaps, to Wareville, and if thesavages continue to hang on, we can never reach it."

  "What do you propose?" asked Daniel Poe.

  Henry Ware stood erect. The light of the council fire flared upon hissplendid, indomitable face. All relied upon him, and he knew it.

  "I have a plan," he said. "To-morrow we can reach an unforested hill thatI know of, with a spring flowing out of the side. It is easy to hold, andwe shall have plenty of water. We will stop there and make our stand.Meanwhile, we will send to Wareville for help. The messenger must leaveto-night. Jim Hart, are you ready?"

  Jim Hart had been sitting on a fallen tree, all humped together. Now heunfolded himself and stood up, stretched out to his complete length, sixfeet four inches of long, slim man, knotted and jointed, but as tough aswire--the swiftest runner in all the West. Long Jim, ugly, honest, andbrave, said nothing, but his movement showed that he was ready.

  "Jim Hart was made for speed," continued Henry. "At his best he is likethe wind, and he can run all the way to Wareville. He'll leave in a halfhour, before the moon has a chance to rise."

  "He'll never get through!" exclaimed Daniel Poe.

  "Oh, yes, he will!" said Henry confidently. "Bring all the men Warevillecan spare, Jim, and fall upon them while they are besieging us at theTable Rock."

  Little more was said. Had the train afforded paint, they would havestained Jim's face in the Indian way; but the utmost that they could dowas to draw up his hair and tie it in a scalp lock, like those of theShawnees. Fortunately, his hair was dark, and his face was so thoroughlytanned by weather that it might be mistaken in the night for an Indian's.Then Long Jim was ready. He merely shook the hands of his four comradesand of Daniel Poe, and without another word went forth.

  The night was at its darkest when Jim Hart slipped under one of the wagonsand crept across the open space. The heavy clouds had grown heavier, andnow and then low thunder muttered on the horizon. The fitful lightningceased, and this was occasion for thanks.

  Jim Hart crept about twenty yards from the circle of the wagons, and thenhe lay flat upon the earth. He could see nothing in the surrounding rim offorest, nor could he hear anything. A light hum from the camp behind himwas all that came to his ears. He slipped forward again in a stoopingposition, stopped a moment when he heard a rifle shot from the other sideof the camp, and then resumed his shambling, but swift, journey. Now hepassed the open space and gained the edge of the woods. Here the dangerlay, but the brave soul of Long Jim never faltered.

  He plunged into the gloom of the bushes and trees, slipping silently amongthem. Two warriors glanced curiously at him in the dark, but in a momenthe was gone; a third farther on spoke to him, but he shook his headimpatiently, as if he bore some message, and only walked the faster. Nowhis keen eyes saw savages all around him, some talking, others standing orlying down, quite silent. He was sorry now that he was so tall, as his wasa figure that would cause remark anywhere; but he stooped over, trying tohide his great height as much as possible. He passed one group, then two,then three, and now he was a full four hundred yards from the camp. Hiscurving flight presently brought him near three men who were talkingearnestly together. They noticed Hart at the same time, and one of thembeckoned to him. Long Jim pretended not to see, and went on. Then one ofthem called to him angrily, and Jim recognized the voice of Braxton Wyatt.

  Long Jim stopped a moment, uncertain what to do at that critical juncture,and Braxton Wyatt, stepping forward, seized him by the arm. It was dark inthe woods, but the renegade, looking up, recognized the face and figure.

  "Jim Hart!" he cried.

  Long Jim's right hand was grasping the stock of his rifle, but his leftsuddenly flashed out and smote Braxton Wyatt full in the face. Therenegade gasped and went down unconscious, and then Long Jim turned, andran with all the speed that was in him, leaping over the low bushes andracing among the tree trunks more like a phantom than a human being. Ashout arose behind him, and a dozen rifle shots were fired. He felt asting in his arm, and then blood dripped down; but it was only a fleshwound, and he was spurred to greater speed.

  A terrible yell arose, and many warriors, trained runners of the forest,with muscles of steel and a spirit that never tired, darted after him. ButLong Jim, bending his head a little lower, raced on through the dark, hisstrength growing with every leap and his brain on fire with energy. Hepassed two or three savages--far-flung outposts--but before they couldrecover from their surprise he was by them and gone. Bullets sang pasthim, but the long, slim figure cut the air like an arrow in the wind.After him came the savages, but now he was beyond the last outposts, andthe footsteps of his pursuers were growing fainter behind. Now he openedhis mouth, and emitted a long, quavering, defiant yell--answer to theirown. After that he was silent, and sped on, never relaxing, tireless likesome powerful machine. The pursuit died away behind him, and though somemight hang on his trail, none could ever overtake him.

  The low thunder st
ill muttered, and the fitful lightning began to flareagain. Now and then there were gusts of rain, swept by the wind; butthrough all the hours of rain and dark the runner sped on, mile uponmile.

  Day dawns and finds him still flitting! But now there is full need of thyspeed, Jim Hart! Five hundred lives hang upon it!

  Speed ye, Long Jim, speed ye!