The Warrior's Path (1980) s-3

by Louis L'Amour

  Where they came from we had not yet been, so there were no tracks of ours, and if they held to the trace they now followed, they would still see no sign left by us. But--I smiled at the thought--if they held to the trace, they would surely come upon Bauer and those with him.

  We held still, making not the slightest move, scarcely daring to breathe, and the first of them came abreast of us and not fifty yards away, flitting through the forest with scarcely a sound.

  They were slim and wiry men rather than muscular, yet a few among them seemed powerful, and no doubt all were strong enough. They carried spears, but bows and arrows as well as the tomahawk were much in evidence.

  Slowly they passed us by, and my first guess had been close, for I numbered them to be thirty-two and no signs of battle among them, so if it was a raid they were upon, it lay before them.

  No sooner had the last of them disappeared in the forest than I straightened up and beckoned. We went down the slope, past some pines, and took the very trace they had followed, retracing their steps back to the way from which they had come.

  We passed the lake, keeping it close on our right, and a half-dozen miles farther we made camp in a pleasant nook among giant oaks where we swiftly gathered some fallen twigs and branches and built a small, warm but almost smokeless fire. Hidden as we were in a deep place among the trees, the fire would not be seen beyond our circle of trees.

  In a dish, hastily made of birch bark, we sliced up some venison; then, when it had been simmering for a half hour, I added a couple of handfuls of cattail pollen. Diana watched us curiously and somewhat skeptically, I thought, but she made no comment.

  Yance put together two cones of birch bark and plugged the bottoms; then we filled each with the soup. One went to Carrie, the other to Diana. Carrie hesitated, looking doubtful, but hunger overcame the squeamishness at trying something new. Meanwhile, I mixed up more of the soup, adding to what had been left.

  Glancing over at Henry, I said, "You've been in the woods before?"

  "They were different."

  "You move like a woodsman."

  He looked at me, his head up. "I was a warrior in my own land. I led men in battle."

  "Looks like you may get a chance for battle," I commented. "Was it in Africa?"

  "I am Ashanti," he said simply.

  "A slaver?"

  He shrugged a shoulder. "There was war. When the war was over, the victor had slaves, or he killed them so they could not attack again. Some of the slaves we sold for guns or cloth."

  "How'd you become a slave? Did you lose a war?"

  "No, we took slaves aboard the ship, and there were not enough slaves for the ship, and then the wind started to come up. Suddenly I was pushed from behind, and I was a slave, also."

  "So now you know how it feels."

  He shrugged again. "Some win, some lose. I lost then; now I win. I am free; I will stay free." He stared at us defiantly.

  I smiled. "Why not? We are not slavers, nor are we owners of slaves. We do our own work."

  His look was disdainful. "A warrior does not work!"

  "No? If you stay with us, you will help. You will work, and you will fight. Otherwise"--I pointed toward the woods--"there is freedom out there. Take what you will of it."

  He did not move; hands on hips, he stared at me. "I have told them I would help," he said. "My promise is my blood. I will stay until they are safe."

  "Good! We can use you."

  A few minutes later Yance asked, "What did he mean, he was pushed from behind?"

  "Pushed down a hatch, probably. It has happened before. Men who take slaves are not particular who they enslave. I had much talk of this with Sakim, who had once traveled from Cairo to Timbuktu."

  We gathered wood for the fire, and Henry did, also. We kept it low, and every now and again one of us would move out into the woods, away from the fire and even the low sound of the voices there, to listen.

  That night we stood watch, Yance, then Henry, finally I. At dawn we moved out, and I let Diana set the pace. Cape Ann and the settlements were east of us and a little north of east now.

  We traveled slowly, for Carrie's strength was waning, and I feared for her. If Diana Macklin tired, I did not know, for she walked proudly, quietly, making no complaint but thoughtful always of Carrie Penney.

  When we had two hours behind us, we again neared a small stream that ran northward into the river. There we stopped to rest, and Henry wandered down to the river. We found huckleberries growing in a few patches near the stream and busied ourselves with picking. Yance wandered about, restless and uneasy.

  Glancing through the leaves, I could see Henry had rigged a pole and was fishing.

  Yance paused near me. "Think we should try for the settlement? Can't be more'n nine, ten miles across there."

  I had been giving it thought but worried that we knew nothing of Max Bauer or where he was, or of the others, coming south with Lashan.

  Had they given up? I decided they had not. The girls were precious to them, for such a girl as Diana would bring five or ten times what a stalwart young black man like Henry would bring. Also, they dared not let us escape, for once it was known that white girls were being taken, they would be hunted down.

  The woods were thick, but there were streams to cross and meadows. Somewhere over there were the Indians who had passed us and no doubt Bauer and his men. Yet it must somehow be done.

  I went to where Diana picked huckleberries. "Know you of any settlement on the great bay south of Cape Ann? It might be easier to reach."

  "My father has a friend at a place they call Shawmut. He is the Reverend Blaxton. He lives alone there, I think, with one servant."

  "Is he the only one?"

  "There is another at Winnesimmet. Samuel Maverick has a fortified house there, a place with a palisade and several guns mounted."

  "A good man?"

  "Yes, he is. A very kind, genial man, but he has great physical strength, and he is said to be absolutely fearless."

  "He knows you?"

  She hesitated. "He may remember me. My father helped with the raising of some of the beams of Maverick's house, but I met him but once when I was a little girl."

  "It is good. We will try for his place."

  "We would be safe there if he would take us in, for they would fear him. Or be wary of him, at least. He is a man of reputation, well known in the colony and in England, and I think even Max Bauer would hesitate to face him."

  We picked berries a little longer. A thought came to me. "He is a married man?"

  "He is. He married the widow of David Thomson, a very good woman. I have spoken to her."

  Henry came up from the edge of the stream. He had six good salmon and a large pickerel. "I will fix them," he said. "It is better to eat them and carry the weight inside than out."

  We were eating the fish when Yance returned. He had gone off suddenly into the woods, and he squatted beside me when he got back, taking a piece of the fish, baked in the coals. "Found a trace ... old one. Runs off south by east."

  "A likely way?"

  "Aye. There be deadfalls here an' yon, but we could make two, three miles ... maybe more."

  We moved out at dusk, taking the dim trace, and once we had gone into it, I left Yance to lead and fell back. At the campsite I studied it with what light was left; then I began carefully cutting out the tracks of two people.

  There was no way to choose whose tracks, so I simply took those tracks of which there were fewest. Carrie had moved around mighty little, so with a little brushing here and there and then a sifting of dust and broken leaves, letting the slight breath of air dictate where it fell, I left behind a camp that showed only three people: Diana, Henry, and myself.

  A really fine tracker, if he took the time, could read the true story, but they were going to be moving fast, and I wanted to mislead them. They had lost the trail, I was sure of that. Now they would find it again, but of only three people. Where were the other two? Or where w
as the other one, Carrie, and who was the stranger in moccasins, which was I.

  At the entrance to the trace and for some way along it, I erased all sign of travel, scattering a few twigs, some bits of bark. Then I started running, a long, easy stride to overtake them, but it was full dark before I did, and when I felt I was close to where they might be, I slowed my pace to come upon them quietly. They had covered almost two miles and had stopped briefly near a small stream.

  We moved on into the night, pausing frequently so that the girls might not tire too soon. At one stop I sat beside Diana.

  "I liked your father," I said.

  She turned her face toward me. I could see the faint whiteness of it in the shadowed place. "He is a good man. I do not think shaped for this life, nor this country."

  "To make a country we need all kinds. He is a thoughtful man, and such are needed. He reads, he thinks. Too many of us are so busied with living that we do not."

  I gestured about us. "A man must think, but he has not enough to nudge his thinking. From morn till night we are busy with finding game, hunting food, cutting fuel, shaping wood for houses. Ours is too busy a world, and there is no time for considering."

  "I know ... even father. There are days when he has not the time to touch a book. There is no market where one can go and buy what is needed. It must be hunted, gathered, or made with the hands."

  "And at night," I added, "a man is too tired. I fall asleep over my books, but we must read, not only for what we read but for what it makes us think. Shaping a country is not all done with the hands but with the mind as well."

  We were silent, and she dipped water from the stream and drank, then again.

  "How will it be," I asked, "when you return?"

  She was quiet for a minute, and then she said, "It will be the same, I think. Perhaps worse. If it were not for my father, I would walk away one day and never look back."

  "Why don't you ..." I caught myself, not wishing her to misunderstand, "and your father come south to Shooting Creek? You would like it there, I believe, and there is a place. One of our farmers was killed by Indians, and his cabin is a strong one. It is empty."

  "Thank you."

  She gave no sign that she thought it a good suggestion or not, so I said nothing further. After a moment we started on, walking steadily into the night. Yance carried Carrie for more than a mile, and we stopped again.

  Henry was impatient. "It is foolish. We cannot escape. They will surely find us."

  "Would you leave them?" I asked.

  He threw me a disdainful glance. "Of course not, but we will all be taken." He paused a minute. "You do not know them. They are vicious, and they are cruel."

  "Whose slave were you?"

  "A ship's captain. He has been much along this coast, and he has made swift attacks on Indian villages and carried some of them off for slaves. I was his servant."

  He turned his head toward me. "To lie in the hold of a ship was not good, and there was no chance for escape. So I let them hear me speaking English and telling another slave that I was once servant to an Englishman. It was not true, but it worked as I hoped it would, and the captain sent for me. I became his servant and henceforth was upon deck. Then I taught him to trust me."

  "And how did you get ashore?"

  "Lashan needed a man, and there was no other, so for this one time they left me ashore to help him. It was what I had been waiting for."

  "If we get through this, you will return to Africa?"

  He was silent, thinking about it. "I know not," he grumbled. "I have seen much since then. Perhaps there is a better life here."

  "There are slaves here, too."

  "There are slaves everywhere. Many are slaves, one way or another, who do not realize they are, but I shall not be a slave. There is opportunity here even among white men."

  "You are not worried about your color being a handicap?"

  "Worried, no. In some ways it will work against me, and in others it will work for me. You wonder why I speak English as I do? I learned it from an Englishman who was a slave in my country. He was captured when a party came ashore from a ship. He began as the lowest of slaves, but it was discovered that he knew something of treating illnesses, although he was not a medical man. Then he became my teacher, also. Soon he was my father's adviser and confidant. When my father died, he returned to his country and returned with gold and diamonds my father had given him.

  "He stood upon the shore with me before his ship sailed, and he said to me what I should remember, that any man can be a slave, and a few men, if they will it, can become kings. He put his hand upon my shoulder and told me that in the world were two kinds of people, those who wish and those who will, and the world and its goods will always belong to those who will.

  " 'When I came to your land, I was a slave, but I shouldered whatever burden was given me. I looked for other burdens, and for those who will shoulder a burden there will always be many burdens to carry. Finally I helped your father, whose burdens were growning too heavy for him, and your father rewarded me, first with freedom and second with wealth.'"

  Well, it seemed to me it was time to move along, so I got up. "Henry," I said, "it looks to me like you had a good teacher."

  "Yes, it is so, although it took me much time to learn it. What he taught was good, but what his life showed me was even better."

  The day had not yet come when we stopped in a hidden place in the midst of a thick stand of young pines. It was the side of a knoll where the ground broke steeply off, then shelved to a narrow bench. There we bedded down and were instantly asleep. This time we felt secure, and all slept, and deeply, too.

  The sun was not yet up when I awoke. For a moment I lay still, listening to the forest sounds, identifying each as my ears came upon it. Rising, I went to the edge of the bench where we had slept and looked all around. A moment, and then as I started to turn, I heard the faintest clink of metal on metal.

  My breath caught and held; then slowly I exhaled and looked in the direction of the sound. There not thirty yards away was a camp! And in the camp, striking flint against steel, was Vern, about to light a fire!

  Chapter VIII

  Very, very carefully I stepped back. When out of sight, I turned swiftly and awakened Yance. Accustomed to trouble and knowing me, he was instantly awake and alert. He moved to awaken Henry, and I went to the girls.

  Gently I touched Diana's shoulder and put a finger across my lips. Her eyes flared open; there was an instant until she realized, and then she moved quietly to awaken Carrie. My gestures toward the enemy camp were enough to warn her. Swiftly, quietly we moved away through the woods, going directly away from their camp. Somehow we made it, or seemed to.

  The leaves were wet with dew, or perhaps there had been a whisper of rain during the night, but there was no sound as we moved quickly along. That they would find our camp was without question, for once they started to look about for dry wood, they would undoubtedly come upon it. The first problem was distance, the second to leave no trail, yet it was distance of which I thought at first.

  Max Bauer had not seemed to be with them, so perhaps the two groups had not come together. Or it might be that Bauer was too shrewd to allow himself to be found with the men who had actually been holding the girls. And it was he who worried me most, for I doubted the tracking skill of Lashan or Vern.

  "If aught goes amiss," I warned Diana, "go at once to Samuel Maverick. From what you have said, he seems a good man and a solid one. Go to him, tell him all, and trust to his judgment. If he knows your father, he will get word to him."

  The war party of Indians, I believed, had gone off to the north of us, raiding some other Indian people, I suspected. Bauer should be close by, but I suspected he was now behind us, as was Lashan. With luck--and mentally I crossed my fingers--we should have a clear way to Shawmut.

  We moved well through the long morning, and when it came to high sun, we were upon the banks of a goodly stream, one flowing north into tha
t great river that I assumed to be what the Indians called the Merrimack or something of the sound.

  "This must be that river called the Musketaquid," Diana said. "Father came once to its shores and fished here while with other men who looked for land for the future."

  The river worried me. It was a good hundred yards wide and perhaps more, and we had to cross it. Yance and I could swim, and no doubt Henry could, but I doubted the girls could, for it was not often a woman has the chance to learn, and Carrie was young.

  Leaving Henry with them, Yance went downstream, and I turned up, for well we knew that Indians often conceal their canoes along the banks after traveling, hiding them against the next crossing. There were places where canoes were left for years, used by whoever came and left hidden on one side or the other.

  We found no boat, it not being our lucky day, but Yance came upon several logs lying partly in and out of the water. They were of modest size, and there were others nearby.

  Choosing dry logs, we found several of the proper length and bound them together with vines. The river moved with incredible slowness, and while we worked, we studied what currents we could see so as to know how best to control our crossing. Meanwhile, the girls ate huckleberries picked from bushes along the shore.

  When the raft was complete, and a pitifully small thing it was, we had the two girls climb aboard, and with them we put our muskets and powder horns.

  Henry came suddenly from the woods. "They come now!" he said.

  "Yance?" He looked up at my question. "You and Henry. Get on with it. I'll wait a bit."

  I kept one pistol with an extra charge of powder and ball laid out close to hand. And I had the bow and the arrows. They shoved off. Yance being a powerful swimmer, I knew he'd do his part, but Henry proved just as good, and the two of them, with tow lines, started swimming for the far bank, letting what little current there was help them along.

  They weren't more than a dozen yards out when somebody yelled, and I heard crashing in the brush. The first one I sighted was the fat one, and he slid to a halt and lifted his musket to fire. It was no more than thirty yards, and I wasted no lead on him but put an arrow into his brisket.