A Virginia Scout Part 21

She was waiting for me to complete my confessional. If the element of danger had been absent how gladly I would have lied to her! How quickly I would have won her approval by proclaiming myself the greatest dolt in Virginia and her father the wisest man in the world! But to accede to everything she said and believed would be an endors.e.m.e.nt of her presence on the creek. I had had no idea of ousting myself from her good graces when I went to find her that morning. Now the test had come, and her welfare was involved; to be true to her as well as to myself I was forced to say:

"I still think it was most dangerous for you to come here. I believe your father acted very unwisely, no matter how much be believes in his influence over the Indians. And I would thank G.o.d if you were back in Williamsburg."

Her hands dropped to her side. The smiling eyes grew hard.

"Go on!" she curtly commanded.

"I've d.a.m.ned myself in your opinion already. Isn't that enough? Don't make me pay double for being honest."

"Honest?" she jeered. "You've deliberately dodged my question. I asked you what you thought of my father's power with the Indians. You rant about his wickedness in bringing me here. For the last time I ask you to answer my question and finish your list of my father's faults."

As if to make more steep the precipice down which from her esteem I was about to plunge there came the voice of her father, loudly addressing the settlers.

"You people ought to wake up," he was saying. "Was it your rifles, or was it trade that stopped an attack on these cabins night before last? When will you learn that you can not stop Indian wars until you've killed every Indian this side the mountains? Has there ever been a time when you or your fathers could stop their raids with rifles? Well, you've seen one raid stopped by the influence of trade."

As he paused for breath the girl quietly said:

"Now, answer me."

And I blurted out:

"I don't have any idea that Black Hoof and his warriors will hesitate a second in sacking Howard's Creek because of anything your father has said or could say. I honestly believe the Shawnees are playing a game, that they are hoping the settlers are silly enough to think themselves safe. I am convinced that once Black Hoof believes the settlers are in that frame of mind he will return and strike just as venomously as the Shawnees struck in the old French War and in Pontiac's War, after feasting with the whites and making them believe the red man was their friend."

She straightened and drew a deep breath, and in a low voice said:

"At last you've answered me. Now go!"

I withdrew from the cabin and from the group of men. Dale's heavy voice was doubly hateful in my ears. The settlement was a small place. Patsy had dismissed me, and there was scarcely room for me without my presence giving her annoyance. I went to the cabin where I had left my few belongings and filled my powder-horn and shot-pouch. I renewed my stock of flints and added to my roll of buckskins, not forgetting a fresh supply of "whangs" for sewing my moccasins. While thus engaged Uncle d.i.c.k came in and began sharpening his knife at the fireplace.

"Why do that?" I morosely asked. "You are safe from Indian attacks now the trader has told the Shawnees you are under his protection."

He leered at me cunningly and ran his thumb along the edge of the knife and muttered:

"If some o' th' varmints will only git within strikin'-distance! They sure ran away night before last, but how far did they go? Dale seems to have a pert amount o' authority over 'em; but how long's he goin' to stay here?

He can't go trapezin' up 'n' down these valleys and keep men 'n' women from bein' killed by jest hangin' some white wampum on 'em."

"What do the men think?"

"Them that has famblies are hopin' th' critters won't come back. Younger men want to git a crack at 'em. Two nights ago th' younkers thought Dale was mighty strong medicine. A night or two of sleep leaves 'em 'lowin' th'

creek may be safe s'long as he sticks here. Some t'others spit it right out that Black Hoof is playin' one o' his Injun games. If that pert young petticoat wa'n't here mebbe we could git some o' th' young men out into th' woods for to do some real scoutin'.

"If my eyes was right I'd go. As it is, th' young folks keep runnin' a circle round th' settlement, lickety-larrup, an' their minds is on th'

gal, an' they wouldn't see a buf'lo if one crossed their path. Then they hustle back an' say as how they ain't seen nothin'. I 'low some o' th'

older men will have to scout."

"I'm going out. I'll find the Indians' trail and follow it," I told him.

"That'll be neighborly of you. If they chase you back an' git within stickin'-distance I'll soon have their in'ards out to dry."

I decided to leave my horse, as the travel would take me through rough places. Shouldering my rifle, I struck for the western side of the clearing. Dale had disappeared, gone into the Davis cabin, I a.s.sumed, as John Ward was lying on the ground near the door. I hadn't seen much of Ward for two days. Davis and Moulton were drawing leather through a tan trough, and I turned aside to speak with them. They noticed I was fitted out for a scout and their faces lighted a bit.

"Ward's been out ag'in and says the reds went north toward Tygart's Valley. He follered 'em quite some considerable. If you can find any new signs an' can fetch us word----"

"That's what I'm going out for, Davis. How do you feel about the doings of night before last?"

He scratched his chin and after a bit of hesitation answered:

"Wife's cousin is a mighty smart man. Powerful smart. I 'low he knows a heap 'bout Injuns. Been with 'em so much. But we're sorter uneasy. More so to-day than we was yesterday. This waiting to see what'll happen is most as bad, if not worse, than to have a fight an' have it over with. Once a parcel of Injuns strikes, it either cleans us out or is licked an' don't want no more for a long time. Still Dale has a master lot of power among the Injuns. But we'll be glad to know you're out looking for fresh footing. Their trail oughter be easy to foller, as there was a smart number of 'em had hosses."

"I'll find the trail easy enough, and I'll satisfy myself they are still making toward the Ohio or have swung back," I a.s.sured him. "While I'm gone keep the young men in the woods and post sentinels. Don't get careless.

Don't let the children wander from the cabins. I'm free to tell you, Davis, that I don't believe for a second that you've seen the last of Black Hoof and his men. Have all those living in the outlying cabins use the fort to-night."

After reaching the woods, I turned and looked back. Dale was standing in the doorway with one hand resting on the shoulder of John Ward. Ward was talking to Patsy, whose dainty figure could not be disguised by the coa.r.s.e linsey gown.

The man Ward must have lost some of his taciturnity, for the girl was laughing gaily at whatever he was saying. I observed that Dale was still feeling very important in his role of protector, for as he stepped from the doorway he walked with a swagger. Well, G.o.d give that he was right and that the menace had pa.s.sed from Howard's Creek.

I found the trail where it turned back toward Tygart's Valley, even as John Ward had reported, and followed it up the Greenbriar. The country here was very fertile on both sides of the river and would make rich farms should the danger from the Indians ever permit it to be settled. Farther back from the river on each hand the country was broken and mountainous and afforded excellent hiding-places for large bodies of Indians, as only rattlesnakes, copperheads, wolves and wildcats lived there.

My mood was equal to overdaring, and all because of Patsy Dale. When the sun swung into its western arc I halted where a large number of warriors had broken their fast. I ate some food and pushed on. After two miles of travel I came to a branching of the trail. Two of the band had turned off to the northeast. My interest instantly s.h.i.+fted from the main trail to the smaller one, for I a.s.sumed the two were scouting some particular neighborhood, and that by following it I would learn the object of their attention and be enabled to give warning.

That done, the footing would lead me back to the main band. The signs were few and barely sufficient to allow me to keep up the pursuit. It was not until I came to a spring, the overflow of which had made muck of the ground, that I was afforded an opportunity to inspect the two sets of tracks. One set was made by moccasins almost as small as those I had given to Patricia Dale.

But why a squaw on a war-path? It was very puzzling. From the amount of moisture already seeped into the tracks I estimated the two of them had stood there within thirty minutes. My pursuit became more cautious. Not more than twenty rods from the spring I came to a trail swinging in from the east, as shown by a broken vine and a bent bush.

The newcomer had moved carelessly and had fallen in behind the two Indians. I stuck to the trail until the diminished sunlight warned me it would soon be too dark to continue. Then I caught a whiff of burning wood and in ten minutes I was reconnoitering a tiny glade.

My first glance took in a small fire; my second glance dwelt upon a scene that sent me into the open on the jump. An Indian sat at the foot of a walnut-tree, his legs crossed and his empty hands hanging over his knees.

At one side crouched a squaw, her long hair falling on each side of her face and hiding her profile. In a direct line between me and the warrior stood Shelby Cousin, his rifle bearing on the warrior.

My step caused him to turn, expecting to behold another native. The man on the ground made no attempt to take advantage of the interruption; and in the next second Cousin's long double-barrel rifle was again aiming at the painted chest.

"Don't go for to try any sp'ilin' o' my game," warned Cousin without looking at me.

"They're scouts from a big band of Shawnees now making toward Tygart's Valley," I informed him. "Can't we learn something from them?"

"I'm going to kill this one now. The squaw can go. Crabtree would snuff her out, but I ain't reached the p'int where I can do that yet."

"You coward!" cried the squaw in excellent English.

Cousin darted a puzzled glance at her. His victim seemed to be indifferent to his fate; nor did the woman offer to interfere.

"She's a white woman!" I cried. For a sunbeam straggled through the growth and rested on the long hair and revealed it to be fine and brown and never to be mistaken for the coa.r.s.e black locks of an Indian.

"White?" faltered Cousin, lowering his rifle. "Watch that devil, Morris!"

I dropped on a log with my rifle across my knees. Cousin strode to the woman and caught her by the shoulder and pulled her to her feet. For a long minute the two stared.

"Shelby?"