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On the Kentucky Frontier Part 22

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Without explaining what he proposed to do, Simon Kenton betook himself to his well-earned rest, and we lads stood guard to the best of our ability.

Three hours pa.s.sed in silence, and during that time we had not seen even a tuft of feathers to betoken the whereabouts of an enemy.

By allowing my mind to dwell upon the disagreeable fact that we were without food or water, I was suffering intensely from both hunger and thirst, and because of thus yielding free rein to imagination, I was dispirited and hopeless.

Paul took it upon himself to arouse the scout, and once Kenton's eyes were open he set about bringing on the battle of which he had spoken.

A few moments' work with our knives sufficed to provide each of us with a long pole, and then he explained his plan.

According to his orders, we were to lie on the ground with our rifles ready for use, and with the poles make such a rustling of the foliage as would cause the enemy to believe we were creeping out.

It would be but natural the savages should fire whenever they saw a swaying of the bushes or branches; but, because of the length of the poles, we would not be near enough to the point of disturbance to run any great chance of being hit by the bullets.

[Ill.u.s.tration: From out of our barricade whistled three bullets, and every one found its mark. Page 259. _On the Kentucky Frontier._]

Kenton had given the name of "battle" to this maneuver of his; but it was neither more nor less than a trick, and such an one as the savages themselves most delighted in.

They had no good cause to be joyous over this one, however, for it worked as Kenton had counted on, and before the painted wolves understood the game, they had received a lesson such as I warrant they never forgot.

When the three of us were in position Simon Kenton gave the signal, and we prodded vigorously with the poles.

In a twinkling half a dozen rifles were discharged from different points amid the foliage, thus showing that the enemy was keeping sharp watch, and we each had a target.

From, out of our barricade whistled three bullets, and every one found its mark!

It was only with difficulty that I repressed a cry of triumph, for now I began to understand that we might soon clear a way for ourselves, unless this band of reptiles had more real courage than their race usually displayed when pitted against white men.

After an interval of five minutes or more we repeated the maneuver, receiving a similar reply as before, and were able to deal death or wounds to another trio.

"Six wiped out or disabled in as many minutes!" Simon Kenton said in a low tone of triumph. "What do you think now of my battle, lads?"

"If they will fall into the trap twice more, we can count on having this bank of the river to ourselves," I replied incautiously loud, and the scout said warningly:

"Have a care, Louis, have a care. If they suspect what kind of a game we are playin' there'll be little chance of their doin' as we wish."

Well, lest I draw this poor tale out to such length as to weary him who may read, it is enough if I say that three times more did we succeed in finding targets for our rifles by using the poles vigorously, and I was certain that from the moment the scout was awakened until the savages refused to come out at our bidding, we had sent bullets into no less than thirteen of them.

Considering the fact that their number could not have exceeded forty, judging from what we had seen and heard, this work of ours was well calculated to discourage them.

They had poured into the pile of logs no less than an hundred bullets, and yet we had not received a scratch!

I almost forgot that I was hungry or thirsty, for the fever of killing was upon me, and my one hope was that we might draw them two or three times more in order to give the villainous brutes such a lesson in blood-letting as they had never learned before.

In this I was disappointed, however, for the snakes had either come to understand our game, or were drawn off to nurse their wounds, and we saw no more of them.

At nightfall we stole cautiously out from among the fallen timber, and not a shot was sent after us.

A mile or more from the scene of our greatest triumph we made a halt that we might quench our thirst from the river, and during the night our march was less hurried than when we began the race.

We stopped for breakfast next morning, after shooting a turkey, and by this time it was certain that the painted reptiles who had relied on spilling our blood, no longer retained such desire at the price we set upon it.

After this we pushed forward at a leisurely pace, and in comparative security, until we arrived at Corn Island, where my mother greeted Paul and me as if we were come from the dead.

What we did there, or what further adventures befell Simon Kenton before he was able to revisit his home in Virginia, is not for me to set down here, since it forms a tale by itself. Neither can I relate how I made a home for my mother in that new settlement which came to be known by the name of Louisville; but it seems necessary I should copy from what another has written, the story of how Major Clarke succeeded in wresting the valley of the Mississippi from the clutches of the British, and with such account I bring this writing to an end, hoping others may find as much pleasure in the reading as I have in the writing of it.

"On the twenty-ninth of January, 1779, intelligence was received that Governor Hamilton had marched an expedition against Vincennes, from Detroit, nearly a month previously, and that the town was again in possession of the enemy. It was also said that another and more formidable expedition was to be sent out in the spring to recapture Kaskaskia, and to a.s.sail the various posts on the Kentucky frontier.

With his usual promptness and energy Colonel Clarke (the Virginia legislature had recently promoted him) prepared to antic.i.p.ate the enemy, and strike the first blow.

"He planned an expedition against Vincennes, and on the seventh of February commenced his march through the wilderness, with one hundred and seventy-five men. He had previously despatched Captain Rogers and forty men, two four-pounders, and a boat, with orders to force their way up the Wabash to a point near the mouth of White River, and there wait for further orders.

"For a whole week Colonel Clarke's party traversed the drowned lands of Illinois, suffering every privation from wet, cold and hunger. When they arrived at the Little Wabash, at a point where the forks of the stream are three miles apart, they found the intervening s.p.a.ce covered with water to a depth of three feet. The points of dry land were five miles apart, and all that distance those hardy soldiers waded the cold snow-flood, sometimes armpit deep.

"On the evening of the eighteenth they halted a little distance from the mouth of Embarra.s.s Creek, and so near Vincennes that they could hear the booming of the evening gun. Here they encamped for the night, and the next morning at dawn, with their faces blackened with gunpowder to make themselves appear hideous, they crossed the river in a boat they had secured, and pushed on through the floods toward the town.

"Just as they reached dry land, in sight of Vincennes, they captured a resident, and sent him into the town with a letter demanding the immediate surrender of the place and fort. The people, taken by surprise, were greatly alarmed, and believed the expedition to be from Kentucky, composed of the fierce and strong of that advancing commonwealth. Had armed men dropped in their midst from the clouds, they could not have been more astonished, for it seemed impossible for this little band to have traversed the deluged country. The people were disposed to comply with the demand, but Governor Hamilton, who commanded in person, would not allow it.

"A siege commenced, and for fourteen hours a furious conflict continued.

The next day the town and fort were surrendered, and the garrison were made prisoners of war. The stars and stripes took the place of the red cross of St. George; a round of thirteen guns proclaimed the victory, and that night the exhausted troops of Colonel Clarke reposed in comfort."

THE END

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On the Kentucky Frontier Part 22 summary

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