The Border Watch: A Story of the Great Chief's Last Stand

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE SHADOWY FIGURE

  After Braxton Wyatt and the Indians had fled, their canoe proceededsteadily up the stream. Henry Ware, with his head only projecting, andsheltered fully by the boat, swam on. He heard neither shots nor thesound of men running through the bushes along the bank in pursuit. Nordid he expect to hear either. He had calculated well the power of hiddendanger and superstition, and, confident of complete victory, he finallysteered the boat toward the farther shore, bringing it under theoverhanging boughs, about a mile from the point where Braxton Wyatt'scanoe had been. As the prow struck the soft soil and he rose from thewater, Paul came forward to meet him. Paul carried in his hands a riflethat he had just reloaded.

  "It was a success, Henry, more thorough even than we had hoped," Paulsaid.

  "Yes," replied Henry as he stood up, a dripping water god. "Fortune wassurely good to us. I have not been pursued, and I know it is because theIndians did not dare to follow. They will certainly flee as fast as theycan to their own country, and meanwhile we are the gainer by one finebig boat, which I think is not empty."

  "No, it is not," said Mr. Pennypacker, appearing from the bushes, "but Iwill never again enter into such another enterprise. It may suit youngforesters like you two, but it is not for me, an old man and aschoolmaster."

  "Still, we have turned back a scouting party which might have carrieddangerous information," said Henry, "and I propose that we now look andsee what is in our new boat."

  The spoils were richer than they had expected. They found two extrarifles of good make, a large quantity of powder and bullets, someblankets and much food.

  "We can use all these things," said Henry, "and we'll go to Wareville inthis big canoe, tying our own little one behind. When we get there we'llcontribute the rifles and other things to the general store."

  "Where they may be welcome enough," said Mr. Pennypacker. "Well, youlads achieved this deed, while I filled the role of spectator andwell-wisher. I am very glad, however, that you have secured this boat.It is a great improvement upon our own small one."

  The schoolmaster was a fine paddler, and he insisted that Henry and Paulrest, while he showed his skill. He was anxious, he said, to do his ownpart in the return, and this offered him the only chance. Henry and Paulacquiesced and he paddled stoutly on for a long time. But before morninghe gave in, and the lads relieved him. Paul had slept for an hour ortwo, but Henry had remained wide awake.

  The river now flowed very slowly, and with but little opposition fromthe current, they were able to make good time. Both were full of eageranticipation. By the following night they ought to reach Wareville, thesnug home of theirs that they had not seen in so long a time.

  "I wonder if they will know us," said Henry.

  "Not at first sight. Of that I am sure," replied Paul. "It seems to me,Henry, that you have grown at least six inches since we were last atWareville."

  "You haven't been any sluggard yourself, Paul, so far as growth isconcerned. They may or may not know us, but I feel quite certain thatthey won't believe everything we tell them, although every word will begospel truth."

  "No, it's not likely, and yet sooner or later we can bring thewitnesses. I suppose they'll find it hardest to believe about Wyoming. Iwish myself that it wasn't true."

  Paul shuddered at the black memory.

  "But we've already struck back for it," said Henry. "It caused thedestruction of the Iroquois power."

  Then both were silent. The schoolmaster, lying on a roll of the capturedblankets, slept soundly. His breathing was steady and rhythmic, and thetwo youths glanced at him.

  "At any rate we're bringing him back," said Paul. "They'll be glad tosee him at Wareville. I've no doubt they gave him up for dead long ago."

  The day came with a splendid sun shining on the green world. The springhad been very rainy, and the summer thus far had rejoiced in frequentshowers. Hence no brown had yet appeared in the foliage, and the worldlooked fresh and young. Although they were now approaching Wareville theforest was unbroken, and no sound of civilization came to their ears.Henry told Paul, who was very tired, to go to sleep as he could paddlethe boat alone. Paul lay down on the blankets beside the schoolmaster,and in a couple of minutes was off to slumberland.

  Henry paddled on. Before him was a long reach of the river almostwithout current and the prow cut the still water, leaving behind it along trailing wake of liquid gold. Henry had never seen a finer sun.Beneath it forest and river were vivid and intense. Birds of many kindschattered and sang in the boughs. Battle and danger seemed far away.Peace and beauty were to attend their coming home and he was glad. Hisstrong arms swept the paddle through the water for a long time. Theaction was purely mechanical. His muscles were so thoroughly trainedand hardened that he was not conscious of action. He was watchinginstead for the first sign of Wareville's presence, and a little beforenoon he saw it, a thin spire of smoke rising high, until it stopped likethe point of a spearhead against the sky. He knew at once that it hungover Wareville, and his heart throbbed. He loved the great wildernesswith an intensity that few men felt for their own acres, but he had beenaway a long time, a time, moreover, so crowded with events that itseemed far greater than reality.

  He did not yet awaken Paul and the schoolmaster, but, putting more powerin his arms, he sent the boat on more swiftly. When he turned a pointwhere a little peninsula, covered with forest, jutted into the river, helet the paddle swing idly for a minute or two and listened. A steadythudding sound, as regular as the beat of a drum, though slower, came tohis ears. It was the woodsman's ax, and, for a moment, Henry flinched asif he himself lay beneath the blade. That ax was eating into his belovedforest, and a hundred more axes were doing the same. Then he recoveredhimself. The hundred axes might eat on, the hundred might become athousand, and the thousand ten thousand, but they could eat only theedge of his wilderness which stretched away thousands of miles in everydirection. The trees, and with them the deer and the bear, would bethere long beyond his time, though he might live to be a hundred, andbeyond that of the generation after. He took comfort in the thought, andonce more felt deep content.

  It was not solely as a hunter and scout that Henry loved the wilderness.Forest and river and lake touched far deeper springs in his nature. Theywere for him full of beauty and majesty. Green forest in spring and redforest in autumn alike appealed to him. Brooks, rivers and lakes werealive. When duty did not call he could sit perfectly motionless forhours, happy to see the wilderness and to feel that it was all abouthim.

  He swung the paddle again, and the boat moved leisurely forward. Thering of the ax grew louder, and he heard others to the right and to theleft. Presently something struck with a crash and, in spite of all hisreasoning with himself, Henry sighed. A great tree cut through by the axhad fallen. Many others had gone in the same way, and many more wouldfollow. The spire of smoke was attended now by smaller spires andWareville could not be more than three miles away. He awakened Paul andthe schoolmaster.

  "We shall be at home in less than an hour," he said. "Listen to theaxes!"

  Paul glanced quickly at him. His fine and sensitive mind understood atonce the inflection in Henry's voice, and he sympathized.

  "But they are our own people," he said, "and they are making homes whichwe must help to defend."

  "A stronghold in the wilderness, where man, woman and child may be safefrom wild beast and savage," said the schoolmaster oracularly. "Ah,boys--boys! how much do I owe you! Truly I thought I should never seethis comfortable little village again, and here I am, sound and whole,returning in triumph upon a captured vessel."

  They saw at the right a cleared field, in which the young corn wasgrowing amid the stumps, and on the left was the sheen of wheat alsoamid the stumps. Mr. Pennypacker rubbed his hands delightedly, but Henrywas silent. Yet the feeling was brief with the youth. Thoughts of hispeople quickly crowded it out, and he swung the paddle more swiftly. Theother two, who were now helping him, did likewise, and the bo
at doubledits pace. Through the thinned forest appeared the brown walls of apalisade, and Henry, putting a hand in the shape of a trumpet to hislips, uttered a long, mellow cry that the forest gave back in manyechoes. Faces appeared on the palisade and three or four men, rifle onshoulder, approached the bank of the river. They did not know eitherHenry or Paul, but one of them exclaimed:

  "Ef that ain't Mr. Pennypacker riz right up from the dead then I'm aghost myself!"

  "It is Mr. Pennypacker," said the schoolmaster joyfully, "and I'm nomore of a ghost than you are. I've come back from captivity, bringingwith me two of those who saved me, young citizens of this village, HenryWare and Paul Cotter."

  They turned the head of the boat to the bank and the whole populationpoured forth to meet them. Henry and Paul were greeted half withlaughter and half with tears by their parents--border stoicism wascompelled to melt away at this moment--and then they blushed at thewords that were said about them. Their stature and strength attractedthe attention of everybody. The borderers could not fail to note theease and grace of their movements, the lightness with which they walked,and the dexterity with which they pulled the big boat upon the bank. Itwas evident that these two youths were far above the average of theirkind, that naturally of a high quality they had been trained in a schoolthat brought forth every merit. Henry towered above his own father, whono longer looked upon him as one to whom he should give tasks andreproofs. And the admiration with which they were regarded increasedwhen the schoolmaster told how he had been rescued by them and theircomrades.

  Henry sat that night in his father's house, and told long and true talesof their great wanderings and of danger and escape on land and water. Heand Paul had eaten hugely, there was no escape, and he felt that he mustsit quiet for a while. He was loth to talk of himself, but there was noescape from that either, and his story was so vivid, so full that itfairly told itself. As he spoke of the great journey and its myriadevents between New Orleans and the Great Lakes, the crowd in the bigroom thickened. No one was willing to lose a word of the magic tale, andit was past midnight when he lay down on the blankets and sought sleep.

  The next day and the next were passed in further welcome, but when Henrysought the blankets the third night he became conscious that the firstflush of the return was over. The weather had turned very hot--it wasnow July--and the walls and ceiling of the room seemed to press upon himand suffocate him. He drew deep and long breaths, but there was not airenough to fill a chest that had long been used to the illimitableoutside. It was very still in the room. He longed to hear the boughs oftrees waving over him. He felt that only such a sound or the trickle ofrunning water could soothe him to sleep. Yet he would make anothereffort. He closed his eyes and for a half hour lay motionless. Then,angry, he opened them again, as wide awake as ever. He listened, but hecould hear no sound in either the house or the village.

  Henry Ware rose to his feet, slipped on his clothing, and went to thewindow. He looked forth upon a sleeping village. The houses, built ofsolid logs, stood in ordered rows, gray and silent. Nothing stirredanywhere. He took his rifle from the hooks, and leaped lightly out ofthe window. Then he slipped cautiously among the houses, scaled thepalisade and darted into the forest.

  He lay down by the side of a cold spring about a mile from the village.The bank of turf was soft and cool, and the little stream ran over thepebbles with a faint sighing sound. The thick leaves that hung overheadrustled beneath the south wind, and played a pleasant tune. Henry felta great throb of joy. His chest expanded and the blood leaped in everyvein. He threw himself down upon the bank and grasped the turf with bothhands. It seemed to him that like Antaeus of old he felt strength flowingback into his body through every finger tip. He could breathe hereeasily and naturally. What a wonderful thing the forest was! How itsbeauty shone in the moonlight! The trees silvered with mist stood inlong rows, and the friendly boughs and leaves, moving before the wind,never ceased to sing their friendly song to him.

  Deep peace came over him. Lying on his side and soothed by the forestand flowing water his eyelids drooped of their own accord. Presently heslept, breathing deeply and regularly, and drawing the fresh air intohis veins. But he awoke before daylight and reentered the village andhis father's house without being seen by anyone. To the questions of hisparents he said that he had slept well, and he ate his breakfast with anappetite that he had not known since he came within the palisade.

  The news that Henry and Paul had brought of the great invasionthreatened by an allied Indian and British force disturbed Wareville.Yet the settlers felt much safer when they learned that the redoubtableGeorge Rogers Clark intended a counterstroke. More than twenty of themost stalwart colonists volunteered to go to Louisville and join Clarkfor the blow. Henry told his father that he and Paul would return withthem.

  "I suppose it is your nature," said Mr. Ware, "but do you not think,Henry, that you have already suffered enough hardship and danger for thesake of the border?"

  "No, Father, I do not," replied Henry. "Not as long as hardship anddanger are to be suffered. And I know, too, that it is my nature. Ishall live all my life in the forest."

  Mr. Ware said nothing more. He knew that words were useless. Thatquestion had been threshed out between them long ago. But he gave him anaffectionate farewell, and, a week after their arrival in Wareville,Henry and Paul departed again for the North, the whole population ofWareville waving them good-by as they embarked upon the river.

  But the two youths were far from being alone. A score of strong men,mostly young, were with them in four boats, and they carried an amplesupply of arms and ammunition. Mr. Pennypacker wanted to go back withthem, but he was dissuaded from undertaking the task.

  "Perhaps it is best that I stay in Wareville," he said regretfully. "Iam really a man of peace and not of war, although war has looked for memore than once."

  Their boats now had oars instead of paddles, and with the current intheir favor they moved rapidly toward the north. They also had afavoring breeze behind them and Henry and Paul, who were in the firstboat, felt their hearts swell with the prospect of action. They were sohabituated now to an eventful life that a week of rest seemed a longtime to them. Already they were pining to be with George Rogers Clark onthe great expedition.

  "How many men do you think Colonel Clark will be able to gather?" askedEthan Burke, one of the stoutest of the Wareville contingent.

  "I don't know, but his name is something to conjure with," repliedHenry. "He ought to get together six or seven hundred at least, and thatmany men, experienced in the woods, will make a formidable force."

  They rowed down the river for three or four days, stopping at intervalsto beat up the woods for marauding Indian bands. They found no traces ofan enemy. Henry surmised that the experience of Braxton Wyatt's partyhad been a warning, and that possibly also the chiefs had learned ofClark's plan. The news that he was coming would alone suffice to put anend for the time to the Indian raids.

  The voyage continued in unbroken peace until they entered the Ohio. Herethey were assailed by a summer storm of great severity and one of theboats, struck by lightning, narrowly escaped sinking. A rower wasknocked senseless, but nobody was seriously injured, and by greatefforts, they got the boat into condition to resume the journey.

  The little fleet came to the Falls, and turned in to the southern shore,where the main settlement of Louisville now stood. Several spires ofsmoke rose, and they knew that no Indian disaster had befallen. As theydrew nearer they saw many boats along the bank, far more than theinhabitants of a little village could use.

  "A big force has gathered already," said Henry. "Ah, see there!"

  A boat shot out from the mass and came rapidly toward them.

  "Don't you know them?" said Henry to Paul.

  "My eyes may be dim from old age," replied Paul, "and perhaps I onlyguess, but I should say that the one nearest us is a shiftless characterwhom I used to know in my youth, a man who, despite his generalworthlessness and incapacity, had a ce
rtain humorous and attractivequality of mind that endeared him to his friends."

  "I am of the opinion that you are right," said Henry, looking under hishand, "and the second, I think, is a voluble person named Thomas Ross,who has talked a wide circle of acquaintances nearly to death."

  "Even so, and the third is a long thin fellow, one James Hart, noted forhis aversion to the delicacies of the table and his dismissal of cookeryas a triviality unworthy of the consideration of a serious man. Am Iright, Mr. Ware?"

  "You are right, Mr. Cotter. Hey you, Sol, how have you been?"

  His voice rose in a mellow peal across the waters, and three shoutssimultaneous and joyous came back.

  "Hey, Henry!" cried Shif'less Sol in a voice that could have been hearda mile. "We're mighty glad to see you, an' we're mighty glad that you'vebrought such good company with you."

  In a few more moments their boat was alongside and there was a mightyshaking of hands. The three knew all the Wareville men and Shif'less Solsaid the reenforcement would be very welcome.

  "But we've got an army already," he said. "You just come and see it."

  As they tied their boats to the bank Henry noticed many tents along thesloping shore. One larger than the rest was surmounted by the new flagof the United States.

  "That's Colonel Clark's tent," said Shif'less Sol, noticing thedirection of his eyes, "but the Colonel won't sleep in a tent many morenights. We start soon up the Ohio and all these are to be left behind."

  Henry was received that very day in the Colonel's tent. Clark, apt togrow sluggish and careless in idleness, was now all energy and keenness.The confidence of the borderer in him was not misplaced. Henry left hiscomrades behind when he was summoned to the Colonel's presence, but whenhe entered the big tent he saw others there whom he knew. A tall man,much bronzed by weather, blue of eyes and gentle of manner, greeted himwarmly.

  "It's pleasant to see you again, young Mr. Ware," he said, "an' it'sstill more pleasant to know that we're to serve together under ColonelClark."

  Daniel Boone, as gentle of speech as a woman, held out his hand andHenry fairly blushed with pride as he grasped it. Another man, darkenedby weather like Boone, was Abe Thomas, also a celebrated scout, andthere were yet others whose names were household words all along theborder.

  "Sit down, Mr. Ware, sit down," said Colonel Clark genially. "We're tohold a council of war, and we felt that it would not be complete withoutyou."

  Henry experienced another throb of gratified pride, but as he was muchthe youngest present he spoke only when he was addressed directly. Thedebate was long and earnest. Colonel Clark had assembled between six andseven hundred good men, and he intended to go with this force up theOhio to the mouth of the Licking. There they would be joined by anotherforce under Colonel Benjamin Logan coming down the Licking. The unitedarmy after camping on the north shore of the Ohio, on the site of thepresent city of Cincinnati, would march straight for the Indian country.Boone, Henry Ware and other accomplished scouts would go ahead and guardagainst ambush. It was dark when the council ended, and when theyprepared to leave, Clark said in his most sanguine tones:

  "If we do not strike a blow that will pay back Bird's and with interestthen I'm not fit to lead. Our Indian friends will find that though theymay destroy a village or two of ours their own villages will have to payfor it. And this great invasion that they've been planning will have towait for another time."

  "We'll strike, and you're the man to lead us," said the others.

  It was night now and they stepped forth into the darkness. Henry passedamong the tents toward the edge of the woods where his comrades werecamped, and he saw a tall figure moving in the shadow of the trees. Hewould not have looked twice at the figure had not something familiarabout it attracted his attention. It was the height, the breadth of theshoulders, and a certain haughty poise of the head that struck him allat once with the intensity of conviction. His friends had left him,going their respective ways, but Henry immediately darted toward theshadow.

  The tall and dusky figure melted away immediately among the trees, butthe young forest runner pursued at his utmost speed. He did not doubt.It was no figment of fancy. It was the great chief himself spying withincredible daring upon his enemies. If he were permitted to escape, theadvance of Clark would be surrounded with numberless dangers. Thefertile brain and the invincible spirit of the great Wyandot would plantan ambush at every turn. The thought made Henry increase his speed.

  The figure flitted away among the oaks and beeches. Henry might havecalled for help earlier, but he was now too far away for anyone to hear,and, confident in his own strength and skill, he pressed on. The shadowwas running eastward, and the way grew rough. Yet he did not lose sightof it flitting there among the trees. There was no swifter runner thanhe, but the distance between them did not decrease. It seemed to himthat it remained always the same.

  "Stop or I shoot," he cried.

  The shadow did not stop and, raising his rifle, he fired. The figurenever wavered for an instant, but continued its rapid and even flight,until it reached the crest of a little hill. There it suddenly turnedabout, leveled a rifle and fired in its turn. The bullet burned Henry'scheek and for a moment he hesitated, but only for a moment. Reloadinghis own rifle he continued the pursuit, the figure running steadilyeastward, the gap between them remaining the same.

  The fugitive reached Beargrass Creek, darted swiftly through the water,climbed the opposite bank and was again among the trees. Henry crossedalso and hung on with tenacity. He knew that Timmendiquas had probablyreloaded also, but in the excitement and rush of the moment, he did notthink of another return bullet. When he did recall the fact, as thechase lengthened, he felt sure that the chief would not stop to fight atclose quarters. He could not afford to risk his life in an encounterwith a single person, when he was the very keystone of the great Indiancampaign.

  The chase still led northward through the deep woods that ran down tothe shore of the Ohio. Strive as he would Henry could not gain. He didnot forget that Timmendiquas had twice saved his life, but he in returnhad spared that of Timmendiquas, and now greater things were at stakethan the feeling that one brave soul has for another. The light grewworse in the shadow of the giant trees and only at times could he seethe flitting figure distinctly. At last was he able to secure what heconsidered a good aim, and he pulled the trigger a second time.

  Henry was an unerring marksman, perhaps the finest on all the border.The target at that moment was good, a shaft of clear moonlight fallingdirectly upon the broad chest, and yet the bullet clipped a bush threefeet away. Henry was conscious that, at the supreme instant when hisfinger pressed the trigger, he had been shaken by a sudden emotion. Themuzzle of the rifle which bore directly upon the body of the chief hadshifted just a little, and he was not surprised when the bullet wentwide.

  Timmendiquas stopped, raised his own rifle, but fired straight up intothe air. Then uttering a long whoop which the night gave back in clearechoes, he rushed directly to the river, and sprang far out into thedark waters. Henry was too astonished to move for a few moments. Thenhe, too, ran to the bank. He saw far out a dark head moving swiftlytoward the northern shore. He might have reloaded, and even yet he mighthave taken a third shot with tolerable accuracy, but he made no effortto do so. He stood there, silent and motionless, watching the black headgrow smaller and smaller until at last it was lost in the darkness thathung over the northern bank. But though hidden now he knew that thegreat chief had reached the far shore. In fancy he could see him as hewalked into the woods, the glistening drops falling from his tallfigure. Timmendiquas and he must fight on opposing sides, but realenemies they could never be. He felt that they were sure to meet againin conflict, and this would be the great decisive struggle. Timmendiquashimself knew that it was so, or he would not have come to look with hisown eyes upon the force of Clark.

  Henry walked slowly back toward the little settlement. He waded thewaters of Beargrass Creek, and soon saw the log cabins again. He an
d hiscomrades, when the ground was not wet, slept in neither a cabin nor atent, but spread their blankets on the turf under a mighty beech. Thefour were already waiting for him there, and, in the darkness, they didnot notice any unusual expression on Henry's face. He sat down besidethem and said quietly:

  "I have just seen Timmendiquas."

  "What!" exclaimed four voices together.

  "I have just seen Timmendiquas. Moreover, I fired twice at him and hefired once at me. All three bullets missed."

  Then Shif'less Sol, experienced and wise, raised himself up on hisblanket, looked at Henry, and said in a tone of conviction:

  "Henry Ware, you an' Timmendiquas together might miss with one bullet,but miss with three is impossible. I believe that you've seen him ez yousay so, but I don't believe that you two missed three times."

  "We fired three times, as I said, and I should add that Timmendiquasfired a fourth time also, but he must have been aiming at a star, as hepointed his rifle straight upward."

  "Ah!" said four voices together again, but now the four understood.

  "I think," said Henry, "that he came to see for himself what ColonelClark is doing. Now he is gone with the facts. I came here merely totell you first, and I leave at once to tell the Colonel next."

  He found Colonel Clark still in the council tent, but alone and poringover a rude map. A burning wick in a basin of tallow scarcely dispelledthe darkness, but Henry could see that the commander's face was knit andanxious. He turned expectantly to the youth.

  "You have some news of importance or you would not come back at thishour," he said.

  "I have," replied Henry. "When I left this tent I passed through theedge of the woods and I saw a figure there. It was that of an Indian, achief whom I have seen before. It was Timmendiquas, the great Wyandot,the bravest, wisest and most daring of all the Western chiefs. I pursuedhim, fired at him, but missed. It was evidently not his object to fightanyone here. He sprang into the Ohio, swam to the northern shore, and nodoubt is now on his way to his own people."

  Colonel Clark gazed thoughtfully at the flickering candle and did notspeak for a long time.

  "I am glad you saw him," he said finally. "We know now that the alliedtribes will be on their guard. They may meet us in force many daysbefore we reach the Indian towns. Timmendiquas is a born leader,energetic and wary. Well, well hasten our own departure, and try tostrike before they're ready. What do you say to that, my lad?"

  "My opinion is worth little, but I would say that we ought to strike assoon as we can."

  "I don't think a man among us will take any other view. We can leavewith seven hundred men now, and we'll meet Logan with three hundred moreat the mouth of the Licking. Then we shall have the largest white forceever gathered in the West, and it will be strange if we do not pay someof the debt we owe to the Indians and their allies. I wish, Mr. Ware,that you and your friends would march with Boone on the southern bank ofthe river. It is only a wish, however, as I have agreed that you shouldchoose your own method of helping us."

  "It is just what we should wish most to do," said Henry, "and we shallbe with Mr. Boone when he crosses to the other side."

  Henry walked back to the big beech and found his comrades yet wide awakeand glad to hear that they would march in thirty-six hours.

  "We'll be back in the thick of it," said Shif'less Sol, "an' I'mthinkin', Henry, that we'll have all we kin do."

  "No doubt," said Henry.