The Border Watch Part 43

He saw a place that he thought would suit them for their informal camp, a dense thicket of bushes and vines on a hill, a thicket that even in the daylight would be impervious to the keenest eyes.

"Suppose we crawl in here and rest awhile," he said. "We mustn't break ourselves down."

"Looks all right," said Tom Ross.

They crept into the dense covert, and all went to sleep except Henry and Ross who lay down without closing their eyes, theirs being the turn to watch. Henry saw the sun rise and gild the forest that seemed to be without human being save themselves. Beyond the thicket in which they lay there was not much underbrush and as Henry watched on all sides for a long time he was sure that no Indian had come near. He was confirmed in this opinion by two deer that appeared amid the oak openings and nibbled at the turf. They were a fine sight, a stag and doe each of splendid size, and they moved fearlessly about among the trees. Henry admired them and he had no desire whatever to harm them. Instead, they were now friends of his, telling him by their presence that the savages were absent.

Henry judged that they were now about two-thirds of the way to Chillicothe, and, shortly before noon, he and Tom awakened the others and resumed their journey, but in the brilliant light of the afternoon they advanced much more slowly. Theirs was a mission of great importance and discovery alone would ruin it. They kept to the thicket, and the stony places where they would leave no trail, and once, when a brook flowed in their direction, they waded in its watery bed for two or three miles. But the intensity of their purpose and the concentration of their faculties upon it did not keep them from noticing the magnificence of the country. Everywhere the soil was deep and dark, and, springing from it, was the n.o.blest of forests. It was well watered, too, with an abundance of creeks and brooks, and now and then a little lake. Further on were large rivers. Henry did not wonder that the Indians fought so bitterly against trespa.s.sers upon their ancient hunting grounds.

The twilight of the second night came, and, lying in the thicket, the five ate and drank a little, while the twilight turned into dark. Then they prepared their plans. They did not believe that Chillicothe was more than three miles ahead, and the Indians, knowing that the army could not come up for two days yet, were not likely to be keeping a very strict watch. They meant to penetrate to the town in the night. But they waited a long time, until they believed most of the children and squaws would be asleep, and then they advanced again.

Their surmise was correct. In a half hour they were on the outskirts of Chillicothe, the great Indian town. It was surrounded by fields of maize and pumpkin, but it seemed to the five to consist of several hundred lodges and modern houses. As they made this reckoning they stood at the edge of a large corn field that stretched between them and the town. The stalks of corn were higher than a man's head, and the leaves had begun to turn brown under the August sun.

"We must go nearer," said Henry, "and it seems to me that this corn field offers a way of approach. The corn will hide us until we come to the very edge of the town."

The others agreed, and they set off across the field. After they entered it they could see nothing but the corn itself. The dying stalks rustled mournfully above their heads, as they advanced between the rows, but no sounds came from the town. It was about three hundred yards across the field, and when they reached its far edge they saw several lights which came from Chillicothe itself. They paused, while still in the corn, and, lying upon the ground, they got a good view of the big village.

Chillicothe seemed to run a long distance from north to south, but Henry at once noticed among the buildings, obviously of a permanent character, many tepees such as the Indians erect only for a night or two. His logical mind immediately drew the inference. Chillicothe was full of strange warriors. The Wyandots, Shawnees, Miamis, Delawares, Ottawas, Illinois, all were there and the circ.u.mstance indicated that they would not try to lay an ambush for Clark, but would await him at Chillicothe.

He whispered to his comrades and they agreed with him.

"Can you see how far this corn field runs down to the right?" he asked Tom Ross.

"'Bout two hundred yards, I reckon."

"Then let's drop down its edge and see if the new tepees are scattered everywhere through the town."

The trip revealed an abundance of the temporary lodges and farther down they saw signs of an embankment freshly made. But this breastwork of earth did not extend far. Evidently it had been left incomplete.

"What do you make of that, Henry?" asked Ross.

"That the Indians are in a state of indecision," replied Henry promptly.

"They intended to fortify and fight us here, and now they are thinking that maybe they won't. If they had made up their minds thoroughly they would have gone on with the earthwork."

"That certainly sounds reasonable," said Paul, "but if they don't fight here where will they fight? I can't believe that Timmendiquas will abandon the Indian towns without resistance and flee to the woods."

"They have another big town farther on--Piqua they call it. It may be more defensible than Chillicothe, and, if so, they might decide to concentrate there. But we can be sure of one thing. They have not yet left Chillicothe. It is for us to discover within the next few hours just what they mean to do."

At the lower end of the corn field they found a garden of tall pea and bean vines which they entered. This field projected into the village and when they reached its end they saw a great increase of lights and heard the hum of voices. Peeping from their precarious covert they beheld the dusky figures of warriors in large numbers, and they surmised that some sort of a council was in progress.

Henry was eager to know what was being said at this council, but for a long time he could think of no way. At last he noticed a small wooden building adjoining the garden, the door of which stood half open, revealing ears of corn from the preceding season lying in a heap upon the floor. He resolved to enter this rude corncrib knowing it would contain many apertures, and see and hear what was being done. He told the others his plan. They tried to dissuade him from it but he persisted, being sure that he would succeed.

"I'm bound to take the risk," he said. "We must find out what the Indians intend to do."

"Then if you're bent on throwin' away your life," said s.h.i.+f'less Sol, "I'm goin' in with you."

"No," said Henry firmly. "One is enough, and it is enough to risk one.

But if you fellows wish, lie here behind the vines, and, if I have to make a run for it, you can cover me with your fire."

The four at last agreed to this compromise, although they were loth to see Henry go. Every one of them made up his mind to stand by their leader to the last. Henry left the shelter of the vines, but he lay down almost flat, and crept across the narrow open s.p.a.ce to the corncrib.

When he saw that no one was looking he darted inside, and cautiously pushed the door shut.

As he expected, there were plenty of cracks between the timbers and also a small open window at one end. The ears of corn were heaped high at the window, and, pus.h.i.+ng himself down among them until he was hidden to the shoulders, he looked out.

CHAPTER XXI

THE BATTLE OF PIQUA

The window, doubtless intended merely for letting in air, was very small, but Henry had a fine view of a wide open s.p.a.ce, evidently the central court of the village. It was gra.s.sy and shady, with large oak and beech trees. About fifteen yards from the corncrib burned a fire, meant for light rather than heat, as the night was warm. Around it were gathered about fifty men, of whom six or seven were white, although they were tanned by exposure almost to the darkness of Indians.

Henry knew a number of them well. Upon a slightly raised seat sat Timmendiquas, the famous White Lightning of the Wyandots. He wore only the waist cloth, and the great muscles of his chest and arms were revealed by the firelight. His head was thrown back as if in defiance, and above it rose a single red feather twined in the scalp lock. Just beyond Timmendiquas sat Moluntha, the Shawnee; Captain Pipe and Captain White Eyes, the Delawares; Yellow Panther, the Miami, and Red Eagle, the Shawnee. Beyond them were Simon Girty, Braxton Wyatt, Moses Blackstaffe and the other renegades. There was also a Mohawk chief at the head of a small detachment sent by Thayendanegea. All the chiefs were in war paint tattooed to the last note of Indian art.

Henry knew from the number of chiefs present and the gravity of their faces that this was a council of great importance. He heard at first only the rumble of their voices, but when he had become used to the place, and had listened attentively he was able to discern the words.

Timmendiquas, true to his brave and fierce nature, was urging the allied chiefs to stay and fight Clark for Chillicothe. In the East before the battle on the Chemung, he had been in a sense a visitor, and he had deferred to the great Iroquois, Thayendanegea, but here he was first, the natural leader, and he spoke with impa.s.sioned fervor. As Henry looked he rose, and swinging a great tomahawk to give emphasis to his words, he said:

"The one who retreats does not find favor with Manitou. It is he who stays and fights. It is true that we were defeated in the battle across from Tuentahahewaghta (the site of Cincinnati), but with great warriors a defeat is merely the beginning of the way that leads to victory in the end. This is the greatest town of our race in all the valley of Ohezuhyeandawa (the Ohio), and shall we give it up, merely because Clark comes against it with a thousand men? Bowman came last year, but you beat him off and killed many of his men. The soldiers of the king have failed us as we feared. The promises of de Peyster and Caldwell have not been kept, but we can win without them!"

He paused and swung the great war tomahawk. The firelight tinted red the glittering blade, and it made a circle of light as he whirled it about his head. A murmur ran around the circle, and swelled into a chorus of approval. These were the words that appealed to the hearts of the warlike tribes, but Simon Girty, crafty, politic and far-seeing, arose.

"Your words are those of a brave man and a great leader, Timmendiquas,"

he said, speaking in Shawnee, "but there are many things that the chiefs must consider. When the white men are slain, others come from the East to take their places; when our warriors fall their lodges stay empty and we are always fewer than before. You were across the mountains, Timmendiquas, with the chief of the Iroquois, Thayendanegea, and so was my friend who sits here by my side. The Iroquois fought there on the Chemung River, and brave though they were, they could not stand against the Yengees and their cannon. They were scattered and their country was destroyed. It would have been better had they fallen back, fighting wherever they could lay a good ambush.

"Now Kentucky comes against us in great force. It is not such an army as that which Bowman led. They are all trained, even as our own, to the forest and its ways. This army, as it marches, looks before and behind, and to right and to left. It will not stick its head in a trap, and when its cannon thunder against your Chillicothe, smas.h.i.+ng down your houses and your lodges, what will you do? Clark, who leads the men from Kentucky, has beaten our allies, the British, at Vincennes and Kaskaskia. Hamilton, the governor at Detroit before de Peyster, was captured by him, and the Yengees held him a prisoner in Virginia. This Clark is cunning like the fox, and has teeth like the wolf. He is the winner of victories, and the men from Kentucky are ready to fight around him to the last."

Another murmur came from the circle and it also indicated approval of Girty's words. Always greatly influenced by oratory, the opinion of the chiefs now swung to the latest speaker. Timmendiquas flashed a look of scorn at Girty and at some of the chiefs near him.

"I know that Girty thinks much and is wise," he said. "He is faithful to us, too, because he dare not go back to his own white people, who would tear him to pieces."

Timmendiquas paused a moment for his taunt to take effect, and looked directly at the renegade. Girty winced, but he had great self-control, and he replied calmly:

"What you say is true, Timmendiquas, and no one knows it better than I.

The whites would surely tear me in pieces if they could catch me, because my deeds in behalf of the Indians, whom I have chosen to be my brethren, are known to all men."

Girty had replied well, and the older and more cautious chiefs gave him another murmur of approval. Timmendiquas flashed him a second glance of contempt and hate, but the renegade endured it firmly.

"What, then, do you say for us to do, Girty?" asked the Wyandot chief.

"As the enemy comes near Chillicothe fall back to Piqua. It is only twelve miles away, yet not all the warriors of Piqua are here ready to help us. But they will wait for us if we come to them, and then we shall be in stronger force to fight Clark. And Piqua is better suited to defense than Chillicothe. The enemy cannot come upon the town without receiving from us a hidden fire."

Girty spoke on, and to the listening youth he seemed to speak plausibly.

Certainly many of the chiefs thought so, as more than once they nodded and murmured their approval. Timmendiquas replied, and several of the younger chiefs supported him, but Henry believed that the burden of opinion was s.h.i.+fting the other way. The tribes were probably shaken by the defeat at the mouth of the Licking, and the name of Clark was dreaded most of all.

Indians love to talk, and the debate went on for a long time, but at last it was decided, much against the will of Timmendiquas, that if they could not catch Clark in an ambush they would abandon Chillicothe and retreat toward Piqua. The decisive argument was the fact that they could gather at Piqua a much larger force than at Chillicothe. The advance of Clark had been more rapid than was expected. They would not only have all the Piqua men with them, but many more warriors from distant villages who had not yet arrived.

The fire was now permitted to die down, the crowd broke up and the chiefs walked away to their lodgings. Henry left the little place from which he had been peeping, drew himself from the corn and prepared to open the door. Before he had pulled it back more than an inch he stopped and remained perfectly still. Two warriors were standing outside within three feet of him. They were Miamis, and they were talking in low tones which he could not understand. He waited patiently for them to pa.s.s on, but presently one of them glanced at the door. He may have been the owner of the crib, and he noticed that the door was shut or nearly shut, when it had been left open. He stepped forward and gave it a push, sending it against the youth who stood on the other side.