The Riflemen of the Ohio Part 27

The boat seemed to quiver, and suddenly it leaped into the air. Then came a tremendous explosion and a gush of overpowering flame. Henry and his comrades dived instantly and swam as far as they could under water toward the eastern sh.o.r.e. When they came up again the flatboat and its terrible cannon were gone, heavy darkness again hung over land and water, and pieces of burning wood were falling with a hissing splash into the river. But they heard the voices of warriors calling to each other, organizing already for pursuit. Their expedition was a brilliant success, but Henry knew that it would be a hard task to regain Fort Prescott. Led by the renegades and driven on by their bitter chagrin, the Indians would swarm upon the river in their canoes, seeking for them everywhere with eyes used to darkness.

"Are you all here, boys?" he asked. He had been scorched on the shoulder by a burning fragment, but in the excitement he did not notice it. Two of the men were slightly wounded, but at that time they thought nothing of their hurts. All six were there, and at Henry's suggestion they dived again, floating down stream as long as they could hold their breath.

When they came up again the six heads were somewhat scattered, but Henry called to them softly, and they swam close together again. Then they floated upon their backs and held a council of war.

"It seems likely to me," said Henry, "that the Indian canoes will go straight across the stream after us, naturally thinking that we'll make at once for Fort Prescott."

"I'm thinkin' that you're tellin' the truth," said Seth Cole.

"Then we must drop down the stream, strike the bank, and come back up in the brush to the place where our rifles and clothes are hid."

"Looks like the right thing to me," said Tom Wilmore. "I'll want my rifle back, but 'pears to me I'll want my clothes wuss. I'm a bashful man, I am. Look thar! they've got torches!"

Indians standing up in the canoes were sweeping the water with pine torches in the search for the fugitives, and Henry saw that they must hasten.

"We must make another dash for the bank," he said. "Keep your heads as low down on the water as you can."

They swam fast, but the Indian canoes were spreading out, and one tall warrior who held a burning pine torch in his hand uttered a shout. He had seen the six dots on the stream.

"Dive for it again," cried Henry, "and turn your heads toward the land!"

He knew that the Indians would fire, and as he and his comrades went under he heard the spatter of bullets on the water. When they rose to the surface again they were where they could wade, and they ran toward the bank. They reached dry land, but even in the obscurity of the night their figures were outlined against the dark green bush, and the warriors from their canoes fired again. Henry heard near him a low cry, almost suppressed at the lips, and if it had not been for the red stain on Tom Wilmore's shoulder he would not have known who had been hit.

"Is it bad, Tom?" he exclaimed.

"Not very," replied Wilmore, shutting his teeth hard. "Go on. I can keep up."

A boat suddenly shot out of the dusk very near. It contained four Indian warriors, two with paddles and two with upraised rifles. One of the rifles was aimed at Henry and the other at Seth Cole, and neither of them had a weapon with which to reply. Henry looked straight at the muzzle which bore upon him. It seemed to exercise a kind of terrible fascination for him, and he was quite confident that his time was at hand.

He saw the warrior who knelt in the canoe with the rifle aimed at him suddenly turn to an ashy paleness. A red spot appeared in his forehead.

The rifle dropped from his hands into the water, and the Indian himself, collapsing, slipped gently over the side and into the Ohio. The second Indian had fallen upon his back in the canoe, and only the paddlers remained.

Henry was conscious afterward that he had heard two shots, but at the time he did not notice them. The deliverance was so sudden, so opportune, that it was miraculous, and while the frightened paddlers sent their canoe flying away from the bank, Henry and his comrades darted into the thick bush that lined the cliff and were hidden from the sight of all who were on the river.

"Our clothes and our rifles," whispered Henry. "We must get them at once."

"They fired from the fort just in time," said Tom Wilmore.

Henry glanced upward. The palisade was at least three hundred yards away.

"Those bullets did not come from Fort Prescott," he said. "It's too far from us, and they were fired by better marksmen than any who are up there now."

"I think so, too," said Seth Cole, "an' I'm wonderin' who pulled them triggers."

s.h.i.+f'less Sol and Tom Ross were first in Henry's mind, but he knew that both had suffered wounds sufficient to keep them quiet for several days, and he believed that the timely shots were the work of other hands.

Whoever the strangers might be they had certainly proved themselves the best and most timely of friends.

They reached the thicket in which they had hidden their clothes and rifles, and found them untouched.

"Queer how much confidence clothes give to a feller!" exclaimed Seth Cole, as he slipped on his buckskins.

"It's so," said Henry, "and it's so, too, that you're not a whole man until you get back your rifle."

When he grasped the beautiful weapon which had been his prize he felt strength flowing in a full tide in every vein. Before he was halt, a cripple, but now he was a match for anybody. He heard a quick, gasping breath, and the sound of a soft fall.

Tom Wilmore had sunk forward, p.r.o.ne in the bushes. His wound in the shoulder was deeper than he had admitted. Through the thicket came the sounds of pursuit. The warriors had left the canoes and were seeking them on land.

But the borderers had no thought of deserting their senseless comrade.

Two of the men raised him up between them, and Henry, Seth Cole, and the sixth, armed with weapons of range and precision, protected the rear. Up the slope they went toward the fort. Henry presently heard light footsteps among the bushes and he fired toward the sound. He did not believe that he could hit anything in the darkness and uncertainty, but he wished to attract the attention of the watchers of the palisade. The diversion was effective, as shots were fired over their heads when they came near the wooden walls, and the pursuers drew back.

Tom Wilmore revived and demanded to be put down. It hurt his pride that he should have to be carried. He insisted that he was not hurt seriously, and was on his feet again when they reached the palisade. The anxious voice of Major Braithwaite hailed from the dark.

"Is it you, Ware; is it you, young sir?"

"We are here, all of us," replied Henry, and the next instant they were at the foot of the palisade, where Major Braithwaite and at least twenty men were ready to receive them.

When they were helped over the wall the Major counted quickly:

"One! two! three! four! five! six! all here, and only two wounded! It was a wonderful exploit! In the name of Neptune, how did you do it?"

"We took the flatboat just as we planned," replied Henry with pardonable pride. "We set it on fire, and it blew up, also just as we planned.

Those cannon are now twisted old iron lying at the bottom of the Ohio River."

"We saw the fire and we heard the explosion," said the Major. "We knew that your daring expedition had succeeded, but we feared that your party would never be able to reach the fort again."

"We are here, however, thanks to the a.s.sistance of somebody," said Henry, "and n.o.body is hurt badly except Tom Wilmore there."

"An' I ain't hurt so bad, neither," said Tom shame-facedly. "Things did git kinder dark down thar, but I'm all right now, ready for what may happen to be needed."

A few scattering shots were fired by the Indians in the woods at the foot of the bluff, and a few more from canoes on the river, but the garrison did not take the trouble to reply. Henry was quite sure that the Indians would not remain in the brush on the cliff, as the morning would find them, if there, in an extremely dangerous position, and, deeply content with the night's work, one of the best that he had ever done, he sought sleep in the log house which had been a.s.signed to him.

It was a little one-roomed cabin with a bed of buffalo robes and bearskins, upon which the boy sank exhausted. He had made sure, before withdrawing, that Tom Wilmore was receiving the proper attention, and hence he had little upon his mind now. He could enjoy their triumph in its full measure, and he ran back rapidly over incidents of their daring trip. Everything was almost as vivid as if it were occurring again, and he could account for detail after detail in its logical sequence until he came to the two gunshots that had saved them. Who had fired the bullets? In any event, it was evident that they had effective friends outside the walls, and while he was still wondering about them he fell asleep.

The siege the next day was desultory. There were occasional shots from the forest and the river, but the far-reaching cannon were gone, and the garrison paid little attention to rifle bullets that fell short.

Moreover, they were all--men, women and children--full of courage. The exploit of the six in blowing up the flatboat and sending the cannon to the bottom of the river seemed to them a proof that they could do anything and defeat any attempt upon Fort Prescott.

But Henry and Major Braithwaite in the cupola of the blockhouse once more looked southward over the surface of the Ohio and wondered why the fleet did not come. Henry, with the coming of the day, felt new misgivings. The Indians, with the whole forest to feed them and freedom to go and come as they pleased--vast advantages--would persist in the siege. Timmendiquas would keep them to it, and he might also be holding back the fleet. White Lightning was a general and he would use his forces to the best advantage. After a last vain look through the gla.s.ses down the river, he took another resolve.

"I'm going out again to-night, Major," he said. "I'm going to hasten the fleet."

"We can ill spare you, my lad," said the Major, putting an affectionate hand upon his shoulder, "but perhaps it is best that you should go. You saved us once, and it may be that you will save us twice. I'll not say anything about your going to the people in general. They think you bring good fortune, and it might discourage them to know that you are gone."

It was night, and only Major Braithwaite and Seth Cole saw Henry leave Fort Prescott.

"I'll be back in a few days, Major," said the boy, "and I'll bring help."

"You've given us great help already, young sir," said Major Braithwaite.

"How, in the name of Neptune, we can ever thank you sufficiently, I don't know."