The Keepers of the Trail Part 27

"He's got 'em stirred up a lot," said Henry, "and if they come again he will surely be a host on our side."

Another attack was made that night, but it did not come until late, halfway between midnight and morning, and, as Henry had suspected, it was not an a.s.sault, but an attempt by sharpshooters, hidden in the dark brush, to pick off watchers at the opening. The bullets of the besiegers were fired mostly at random and did nothing but chip stone. The besieged fired at the flash of the rifles and were not sure that they hit an enemy, but believed that they succeeded more than once. Then, as the night before, came the report of the lone rifle in the thicket, and a warrior, throwing up his hands, uttered his death cry, making it apparent to the defenders that the s.h.i.+ftless one was neither idle nor afraid.

Then the Indians withdrew and the primeval silence returned to the valley. The four remained for a while without speaking, watchful, their rifles loaded anew and their fingers on the trigger.

"Sol could come in now," said Long Jim. "He must know that the way will be clear for a little while."

"He doesn't want to come in," said Henry. "He's our link with the outside world, and when they attack he can be of more help to us because they don't know from what point he will strike. The besiegers are also besieged."

"I'm thinkin' they won't attack ag'in fur a long time," said Long Jim, "an' that bein' the case, I'm goin' to eat some uv my own cookin', knowin' that it's the finest in the world, an' then go to sleep."

"All right, Jim," said Henry, "you deserve both."

Long Jim was soon asleep, but Henry remained awake until daylight. He considered whether they should not attempt to escape now, join s.h.i.+f'less Sol, and follow as fast as they could the main Indian army with the cannon. But he decided in the negative. The savages, despite their repulse, would certainly be on watch, and they were still too numerous for a fight in the bush.

Hence they entered upon another day in the cavern, which was beginning to a.s.sume some of the aspects of home. It looked cosy, with the supply of venison and bear meat, the pleasant rill of cold water, the dry leaves upon which their blankets were spread for beds, and it was filled with cold fresh air that poured in at the opening. Henry felt once more that they had had luck, and he chafed at nothing but the long delay.

And delay now it was certainly going to be, as Braxton Wyatt refrained from attack, both that day and the next, although he drew his lines so close to them that they had no chance to slip out. But cultivating Indian patience, they kept one man always on guard while the others lay at their ease on their beds of leaves, and, after the fas.h.i.+on of those who had much time, talked of many and various things. On the third day when the siege seemed to have settled down to a test of endurance, the day being clear and sharply bright, the four sat near the door of the fortress. Silent Tom was keeping watch with an eye that never failed, but he was able at the same time to hear what his friends said, and, when he felt the impulse, he joined in with a monosyllable or two.

They were speaking of the main band going south with the cannon for the great attack upon the settlements, a subject to which Henry's mind returned constantly. Alloway and the chiefs had a start of days, but he was incessantly telling himself that his comrades and he, as soon as they were released from the siege, could overtake them quickly. The cannon which made their great strength also made their march slow.

"Besides," he said to the others, "they will have to cross many rivers and creeks with them, and every crossing will take trouble and time. As I figure it, they could go four-fifths of the way and we could still overtake them before they reached the settlement."

"I hope we'll ruin the cannon fur 'em," said Long Jim earnestly, "an'

that at last the settlers will beat 'em so bad that they'll never cross the Ohio ag'in. All this fightin' with 'em breaks up my plans."

"What are your plans, Jim?" asked Paul.

"They're big ones, but thar's nary one uv 'em that don't take in you three here an' s.h.i.+f'less Sol that's outside. I want to git in a boat, an' go on one uv the rivers into the Ohio an' then down the Ohio to the Missip, an' down the Missip to New Or-lee-yuns whar them Spaniards are.

I met a feller once who had been thar an' he said it wuz a whalin' big town, full uv all kinds uv strange people, an' hevin' an' inquirin' mind I like to see all kinds uv furriners an' size 'em up. Do you reckon, Paul, that New Or-lee-yuns is the biggest city in the world?"

"Oh, no, Jim. There are many much larger cities in the old continents, Europe, Asia and Africa."

"Them are so fur away that they hardly count nohow. An' thar's a lot uv big dead cities, ain't thar?"

"Certainly. Babylon, that our Bible often speaks of, and Nineveh, and Tyre, and Memphis and Thebes and----"

"Stop, Paul! That's enough. I reckon I ain't sorry them old places are dead. It took a heap uv ground fur 'em to stand on, ground that might be covered with gra.s.s an' bushes an' trees, all in deep an' purty green like them out thar. Me bein' what I am, I always think it's a pity to ruin a fine forest to put a town in its place."

"Those cities, I think, were mostly in desert countries with an artificial water supply."

"Then I don't want ever to see 'em or what's left uv 'em. People who built cities whar no water an' trees wuz ought to hev seen 'em perish.

Wouldn't me an' Sol look fine trailin' 'roun' among them ruins an' over them deserts? Not a buff'ler, nor a deer, not a b'ar anywhar, an' not a fish; 'cause they ain't even a good big dew fur a fish to swim in.

"But leavin' out them old places that's plum' rusted away, an' comin'

back to this here favored land o' ours, I want, after seein' everythin'

thar is to be seen in the great city of New Or-lee-yuns, to go straight west with you fellers, an' s.h.i.+f'less Sol that's outside, clean across the great buff'ler plains that we've talked about afore."

"Cross 'em!" said Silent Tom, speaking for the first time. "You can't cross 'em. They go on forever."

"No, they don't. Once I come across a French trapper who had been clean to the edge uv 'em, tradin' with the Injuns fur furs. I don't know how many weeks an' months it took him, but cross 'em he did, an' what do you think he found on the other side, Tom Ross?"

"The sea."

"Nary a sea. He found mountains, mountains sech ez we ain't got this side the Missip, mountains that go right up to the top uv the sky, cuttin' through clouds on the way, mountains that are covered always with snow, even in the summer, an' not a half-dozen or a dozen mountains, but hundreds uv 'em, ridges an' ranges runnin' fur hundreds an' thousands uv miles."

"An' beyond that?" asked Silent Tom.

"n.o.body knows. But think what a trip it would be fur us five! Why it raises the sperrit uv romance mighty high in me. Paul hez often told us how them old Crusaders from France an' England an' Germany an' all them Old World countries started off, wearin' their iron clothes even on the hottest days, to rescue the Holy places from the infidel. I guess the sperrit uv adventure helped a heap in takin' 'em, but thar travels wouldn't be any greater, an' grander than ourn across all them great plains an' into them almighty high mountains beyond. You couldn't even guess what we'd find."

Long Jim drew a deep breath, as his spirit leaped before him into the vast unknown s.p.a.ces, and Paul's eyes sparkled. The seed that Jim was sowing fell upon fertile ground.

"I believe I'd rather travel in the unknown than the known," the boy said. "We'd come to rivers, big ones and lots of 'em, too, that no white man had ever seen before, and, when at last we reached the mountains, we'd explore in there for months and months, a year, two years may be.

And we'd name the highest five peaks for ourselves."

"An' I'd want a river named after me, too, Paul, an' I don't want it to be any little second rate river, either. I want it to be long an' broad an' deep an' full uv mighty clear water, an' when after a while, fur hunters come along in thar canoes, I'd say to 'em, 'Dip down! Dip down with your paddles an' don't be afeard. This is the Long Jim Hart river, an' me bein' Jim Hart, the owner, I give you leave.'"

"I heard the sound o' a shot," said Silent Tom.

"And there goes another," said Henry. "It seemed to be up the valley. Is it possible that s.h.i.+f'less Sol has let himself be trapped in broad daylight?"

All crowded into the doorway and looked and listened, intense anxiety, despite themselves, tearing at their hearts. Shots at such a time were deeply significant. The Indians at the camp opposite, Braxton Wyatt with them, had risen and were looking fixedly in the same direction.

A long triumphant shout suddenly came from a point in the forest up the valley, and then was succeeded by another in which six or seven voices joined, the Indian chant of victory. The hearts of the four dropped like plummets in a pool, and they gazed at one another, aghast.

"It can't be that they've got him!" exclaimed Long Jim.

"Listen to that song!" faltered Paul. "It celebrates the taking of a scalp!"

"I'm afeared fur good old Sol," said Tom Ross.

Henry was silent, but a great grief oppressed him. The Indian chant was so triumphant that it could mean nothing but the taking of a scalp, and there was no scalp but that of the s.h.i.+ftless one to take.

Louder swelled the song, while the singers were yet invisible among the bushes, and suddenly, the band gathered in the opening, began to sing a welcome, as they danced around the coals of their low campfire. Around and around they went, leaping and chanting, and the songs of both bands came clearly to those in the cave.

Henry's face darkened and his teeth pressed closely together. An accident must have happened or the s.h.i.+ftless one would never have allowed himself to be trapped in the day. Yet he had hope, he said resolutely to himself that he must retain hope, and he watched continually for the smaller band that was approaching through the bushes.

They emerged suddenly into view, and as his heart sank again, he saw that the leading warrior was whirling a trophy swiftly around his head.

The cries of the others at sight of the scalp redoubled.

"It's Sol's, uv course!" growled Long Jim. "He's gone an' a better man never trod moccasin!"

The others were silent, overwhelmed with grief. The two bands now joined and the dance of a score of warriors became wilder and wilder. At intervals they caught a glimpse of the scalp as it was waved aloft, and they raged, but were powerless.

"We can't go after them cannon now," said Long Jim. "We've got to stay an' git revenge fur poor old Sol."

"An' that's sh.o.r.e," said Tom Ross.