The Riflemen of the Ohio Part 30

"Mainly. You remember we all agreed a long time ago always to carry fis.h.i.+n' lines an' hooks, ez we might need 'em, an' need 'em pow'ful bad any time. It looked purty dang'rous to shoot off a gun with warriors so near, although I did bring down wild turkeys twice in the night. But mostly I've set here on the ledge with my bee-yu-ti-ful figger hid by the bushes, but with my line an' hook in the water."

"Is the fis.h.i.+ng good?"

"Too good. I don't s'pose the fish in Hyde Lake--that's what I've named it--ever saw a hook before, an' they've been so full o' curiosity they jest make my arm ache. It's purty hard on a lazy man like me to hev to pull in a six or seven pound ba.s.s when you ain't rested more'n half a minute from pullin' in another o' the same kind. I tell you, they kep'

me busy, Henry, when what I wuz needin' wuz rest."

Henry smiled.

"Were you fis.h.i.+n' when you saw me?" he asked.

"I sh.o.r.ely wuz. I'm mostly fis.h.i.+n', an' when I'm fis.h.i.+n' I mostly keep my eyes turned that way. I've been sayin' to myself right along for the last two or three days: 'Henry will be along purty soon now. He sh.o.r.ely will. When he comes, he'll follow that chipped trail o' mine right down to the edge o' the water. Then he'll stan' thar wondering an' while he's standin' and wondering I'll give him an invite to come over to my bee-yu-ti-ful mansion,' and, sh.o.r.e enough, that's jest what happened."

Henry sat down on a heap of leaves and leaned luxuriously against the wall.

"You cook at night?" he said.

"O' course, and I always pick a mighty dark hour. Hyde Lake, desarvin'

its name, is full o' eight or ten kinds o' fine fish, an' here are some layin' under the leaves that I cooked last night. I eat pow'ful often myself. Livin' such a lazy life here, I've growed to be what Paul calls a eppycure. Remember them tales he used to tell about the old Romans and Roos.h.i.+ans an' Arabiyuns and Babylonians that got so fine they et hummin'

birds' tongues an' sech like, an' then the flood wuz sent to drown 'em all out 'cause they wuzn't fitten to live. I don't think hummin' birds'

tongues a sustainin' kind o' diet, anyway."

"I remember the tales, but not just that way, Sol. However, it doesn't matter."

"Hev a fish, Henry. You've traveled fur, an' I made up my mind from the fust that I'd offer refreshment an' the fat o' the water to anybody comin' to my house. We kin cook the turkey to-night, an' then eat him, too."

He handed to Henry a fine specimen of lake trout, admirably broiled, and the boy ate hungrily. s.h.i.+f'less Sol took another of the same kind and ate, also. Henry, from his reclining position, could see through the screen of leaves. The surface of the little lake was silver, rippling lightly under the gentle wind, and beyond was the green wall of the forest. He felt a great peace. He was rested and soothed, both body and mind. The s.h.i.+ftless one, too, felt a deep content, although he had always been sure that Henry would come.

For nearly a quarter of an hour neither spoke again, and Henry could hear the faint lapping of the water on the rocks below. It was the s.h.i.+ftless one who at last broke the silence.

"You reached Fort Prescott, o' course?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Henry. "I got in, and I warned them in time. We beat off a land attack, and then they advanced on us by the river."

"What could canoes do against a fort on a hill?"

"They had cannon brought from Canada."

"Cannon! Then I s'pose they battered the fort down with 'em, an' you're all that's left."

"No, they didn't. They might have done it, but they lost their cannon."

"Lost 'em! How could that happen?"

"The boat carrying them was blown up, and the cannon with it."

The s.h.i.+ftless one looked at Henry, and the boy grew uncomfortable, blus.h.i.+ng through his tan. s.h.i.+f'less Sol laughed.

"Ef them cannon wuz blowed up--an' they sh.o.r.ely wuz ef you say so," he said, "it's mighty likely that you, Henry Ware, had a lot to do with it.

Now, don't be bashful. Jest up an' tell me the hull tale, or I'll drag it out o' you."

Henry, reluctantly and minimizing his part as much as he could, told the story of the blowing up of the flatboat and the cannon. s.h.i.+f'less Sol was hugely delighted.

"Them sh.o.r.e wuz lively doin's," he said. "Wish I'd been thar. I'll always be sorry I missed it. An' at the last you wuz saved by Dan'l Boone an' Simon Kenton. Them are sh.o.r.ely great men, Henry. I ain't ever heard o' any that could beat 'em, not even in Paul's tales. I reckin Dan'l Boone and Simon Kenton kin do things that them Carthaginians, Alexander an' Hannibal an' Caesar an' Charley-mane, couldn't even get started on."

"They certainly know some things that those men didn't."

"More'n some. They know a pow'ful lot more. I reckon, Henry, that Dan'l Boone is the greatest man the world has yet seed."

Henry said nothing. The s.h.i.+ftless one's simple admiration and faith appealed to him. They rested a while longer, and then Henry asked:

"Sol, do you think that we can find Tom Ross?"

"Ef he's alive, we kin. We jest got to."

"I knew that would be your answer. Do you think you will be strong enough to start in the morning?"

"I've been weak, Henry, but I'm gainin' now mighty fast. I didn't suffer much 'cept loss o' blood, an' me bein' so healthy, I'm making gallons o'

new first-cla.s.s blood every day. Yes, Henry, I think I kin start after Tom to-morrow mornin'."

"Then we'll find him if he's alive, but we'll spend the time until then in quiet here."

"'Ceptin' that I'm boun' to cook my turkey to-night."

Henry presently climbed to the top of the bank, a distance of eight or ten feet above the hollow, but precipitous. It was probably this steepness that had prevented any large wild animal from using the place as a lair. It would also make attack by Indians, should any come, extremely difficult, but Henry did not antic.i.p.ate any danger from them now, as their attention was centered on the fort and the fleet.

s.h.i.+f'less Sol followed him up the cliff, and when they stood on the hill Henry noticed again the thinness of his comrade. But the color was returning to his cheeks, and his eye had regained the alert, jaunty look of old. Henry calculated that in a week s.h.i.+f'less Sol would be nearly as strong as ever. The s.h.i.+ftless one saw his measuring look, and understood it.

"My time ez a fisherman is over," he said. "I'll be a hunter, an'

explorer, an' fighter of warriors ag'in. But I think, Henry, we ought to remember the hollow, an' keep it ez one o' them places Paul calls inns.

Ef we wuz ever 'roun' here ag'in, we might want to drop in an' rest a while."

Henry agreed with him, and examined the country for a distance of about a half mile. He did not see any evidence of warriors, but he knew they could not be far away and he returned to the hollow, where he and s.h.i.+f'less Sol spent the rest of the day, each lying upon a bed of leaves and gazing through the screen of bushes toward the s.h.i.+mmering surface of the lake. Nor did they say much, only a word or two now and then.

Henry felt a great sense of luxury. He did not realize fully until now all that he had been through recently, the mighty strain that had been put upon his nervous organization, and the absolute freedom from any sort of effort, whether mental or physical, was precious to him.

It was almost the twilight hour when they heard the faint whirring of wings. Henry looked up through half-closed eyes. A cloud of wild ducks, hundreds of them, settled down upon the lake.

"I'd like to take a shot at them," he said. "There's nothing better than a wild duck cooked as Jim Hart can cook it."

"But I wouldn't shoot jest now if I were you," said the s.h.i.+ftless one, "'cause somebody else is ahead of you."

Henry came at once from his dreamy state and rose to a sitting position.

Two Indians were walking down to the edge of the lake. He saw them clearly through the curtain of bushes and leaves. They held guns in their hands, and their eyes were on the ducks, which fairly blackened a portion of the lake's surface.

"They're lookin' fur food, not scalps," whispered the s.h.i.+ftless one.

"Tain't likely they'll see my blazed tree, specially since dark is comin' on."

The two Indians fired into the cloud of ducks, then waded in and took at least a dozen dead ones. The foolish ducks flew further up the lake and settled down again, where a further slaughter was committed. Then the Indians, loaded with the spoil, went away.