Chapter 10. The Great Borderer

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_ CHAPTER X. THE GREAT BORDERER

Tom Ross watched until about an hour after midnight, when he awoke Henry, who would keep guard until day.

"Heard anything?" asked the boy.

"Nuthin'" replied Tom with his usual brevity, as he stretched his long figure upon the ground. In a minute he was fast asleep. Henry looked down at the recumbent forms of his comrades, darker shadows in the dusk, and once more he felt that thrill of deep and intense satisfaction. The five were reunited, and, having triumphed so often, he believed them to be equal to any new issue.

Henry sat in a comfortable position on the dead leaves of last year, with his back against the stump of a tree blown down by some hurricane, his rifle across his knees. He did not move for a long time, exercising that faculty of keeping himself relaxed and perfectly still, but he never ceased to watch and listen.

About half way between midnight and morning, he heard the hoot of the owl and also the long, whining cry of the wolf. He did not stir, but he knew that hoot of owl and whine of wolf alike came from Indian throats. At this hour of the night the red men were signaling to each other. It might be the Wyandots still in pursuit of the escaped prisoner, or, more likely, it was the vanguard of the hosts converging on Tuentahahewaghta (the landing place opposite the mouth of the Licking, the site of Cincinnati).

But Henry felt no apprehension. The night was dark. No one could follow a trail at such a time. All the five were accomplished borderers. They could slip through any ring that might be made, whether by accident or purpose, around them. So he remained perfectly still, his muscles relaxed, his mind the abode of peace. Cry of owl and wolf came much nearer, but he was not disturbed. Once he rose, crept a hundred yards through the thicket, and saw a band of fifty Miamis in the most vivid of war paint pass by, but he was yet calm and sure, and when the last Miami had disappeared in the darkness, he returned to his comrades, who had neither moved nor wakened.

Dawn came in one great blazing shaft of sunlight, and the four awoke. Henry told all that he had seen and heard.

"I'm thinkin' that the tribes are all about us," said Shif'less Sol.

"Shorely," said Tom Ross.

"An' we don't want to fight so many," said Long Jim.

"An' that bein' the case," said Shif'less Sol, "I'm hopin' that the rest o' you will agree to our layin' quiet here in the thicket all day. Besides, sech a long rest would be a kindness to me, a pow'ful lazy man."

"It's the wisest thing to do," said Henry. "Even by daylight nothing but chance would cause so faint a trail as ours to be found."

It was settled. They lay there all day, and nobody grew restless except Paul. He found it hard to pass so much time in inaction, and now and then he suggested to the others that they move on, taking all risks, but they merely rallied him on his impatience.

"Paul," said Long Jim, "thar is one thing that you kin learn from Sol Hyde, an' that is how to be lazy. Uv course, Sol is lazy all the time, but it's a good thing to be lazy once in a while, ef you pick the right day."

"You don't often tell the truth, Saplin'," said Shif'less Sol, "but you're tellin' it now. Paul, thar bein' nuthin' to do, I'm goin' to lay down ag'in an' go to sleep."

He stretched himself upon a bed of leaves that he had scraped up for himself. His manner expressed the greatest sense of luxury, but suddenly he sat up, his face showing anger.

"What's the matter, Sol?" asked Paul in surprise.

The shiftless one put his hand in his improvised bed and held up an oak leaf. The leaf had been doubled under him.

"Look at that," he said, "an' then you won't have the face to ask me why I wuz oncomf'table. Remember the tale you told us, Paul, about some old Greeks who got so fas-tee-ge-ous one o' 'em couldn't sleep 'cause a rose leaf was doubled under him. That's me, Sol Hyde, all over ag'in. I'm a pow'ful partickler person, with a delicate rearin' an' the instincts o' luxury. How do you expect me to sleep with a thing like that pushed up in the small o' my back. Git out!"

As he said 'Git out,' he threw the leaf from him, lay down again on his woodland couch, and in two minutes was really and peacefully asleep.

"He is shorely won'erful," said Long Jim admiringly. "Think I'll try that myself."

He was somewhat longer than the shiftless one in achieving the task, but in ten minutes he, too, slept. Paul was at last able to do so in the afternoon, when the sun grew warm, and at the coming of the night they prepared to depart.

They traveled a full eight hours, by the stars and the moon, through a country covered with dense forest. Twice they saw distant lights, once to the south and once to the east, and they knew that they were the camp fires of Indians, who feared no enemy here. But when dawn came there was no sign of hostile fire or smoke, and they believed that they were now well in advance of the Indian parties. They shot two wild turkeys from a flock that was "gobbling" in the tall trees, announcing the coming of the day, and cooked them at a fire that they built by the side of a brook. After breakfast Henry and Tom Ross went forward a little to spy out the land, and a half mile further on by the side of the brook they saw two or three faint prints made by the human foot. They examined them long and carefully.

"Made by white men," said Henry at last.

"Shorely," said Tom Ross.

"Now, I wonder who they can be," said Henry. "It's not the renegades, because they would not leave the Indians."

"S'pose we go see," said Tom Ross.

The trail was faint and difficult to follow, but they managed to make it out, and after another half mile they saw two men sitting by a small camp fire under some trees. The fire was so situated that no one could come within rifle shot of it without being discovered by those who built it, and Henry knew that the two men sitting there had noticed him and Ross.

But the strangers did not move. They went on, calmly eating pieces of buffalo steak that they were broiling over the coals. Although nearly as brown as Indians, they were undoubtedly white men. The features in both cases were clearly Caucasian, and, also, in each case they were marked and distinctive.

Henry and Ross approached fearlessly, and when they were near the fire the two men rose in the manner of those who would receive visitors. When they stood erect the distinction of their appearance, a distinction which was not of dress or cultivation but which was a subtle something belonging to the woods and the wilderness, was heightened. They differed greatly in age. One was in middle years, and the other quite young, not more than twenty-two or three. Each was of medium height and spare. The face of the elder, although cut clean and sharp, had a singularly soft and benevolent expression. Henry observed it as the man turned his calm blue eyes upon the two who came to his fire. Both were clad in the typical border costume, raccoon skin cap, belted deerskin hunting shirt, leggings and moccasins of the same material, and each carried the long-barreled Kentucky rifle, hatchet, and knife. Their dress was careful and clean, and their bearing erect and dignified. Their appearance inspired respect.

Henry looked at them with the greatest curiosity. He believed that he knew the name of the elder man, but he was not yet sure.

"My name is Henry Ware," said Henry, "and my friend is Tom Ross. Our home is at Wareville in Kentucky, whenever we happen to be there, which hasn't been often lately."

"I think I've heard of both of you," said the elder man in mild tones that accorded well with his expression. "Mine is Boone, Dan'l Boone, and this young fellow here with me is Simon Kenton. Simon's a good boy, an' he's learnin' a lot."

Henry instinctively took off his cap. Already the name of Boone was celebrated along the whole border, and it was destined to become famous throughout the English-speaking world. The reputation of Simon Kenton, daring scout, explorer, and Indian fighter, was also large already.

"We're proud to see you, Mr. Boone and Mr. Kenton," said Henry, "and to shake your hands. When we saw this fire we did not dream what men we were to find sitting beside it."

Daniel Boone laughed in his kindly, gentle way, and his fine large eyes beamed benevolence. Nor was this any assumption or trick of manner, as Henry soon learned. The man's nature was one of absolute simplicity and generosity. With a vast knowledge of the woods and a remarkable experience, he was as honest as a child.

"I'm nothin' but plain Dan'l Boone," he said, "an' there ain't any reason why you should be proud to see me. But white folks ought to be glad when they meet one another in these woods. Simon, fry some more o' them buffalo steaks for our friends."

Kenton, who had said nothing but who had listened attentively, went about his task, working with skill and diligence.

"Set down," said Boone.

Henry and Tom obeyed the hospitable invitation and took the crisp steaks that Kenton handed to them. They were not hungry, but it was the custom of the border for white men when they met to take meat together, as the Arabs taste salt. But the steaks were uncommonly tender and juicy, and they were not compelled to force their appetites.

Both Boone and Kenton looked admiringly at Henry as he ate. But a boy in years, he had filled out in an extraordinary manner. He was not only a youthful giant, but every pound of him was bone and muscle and lean flesh.

"I've heard of you more than once, Henry Ware," Boone said. "You've been a captive 'way out among the Indians o' the northwest, but you came back, an' you've fought in the battles in Kentucky. I was a prisoner, too, for a long time among the Indians."

"I've heard all about it, Mr. Boone," said Henry eagerly. "I've heard, too, how you saved Boonesborough and all the other wonderful things that you've done."

Boone, the simple and childlike, blushed under his tan, and Simon Kenton spoke for the first time.

"Now don't you be teasin' Dan'l," he said. "He's done all them things that people talk about, an' more, too, that he's hid, but he's plum' bashful. When anybody speaks of 'em he gets to squirmin'. I'm not that way. When I do a big thing, I'm goin' to tell about it."

Boone laughed and gave his comrade a look of mild reproof.

"Don't you believe what he tells you about either him or me," he said. "Simon's a good boy, but his tongue runs loose sometimes."

Henry knew that an explanation of his and Tom's appearance there was expected, and now he gave it.

"I've just escaped from the Indians, a Wyandot band, Mr. Boone," he said, "and I was lucky enough to meet in the forest four old comrades of mine. The other three are back about a mile. We came on ahead to scout. Indians of different tribes are in great numbers behind us."

"We reckoned that they were," said Boone. "Me an' Simon have been takin' a look through the woods ourselves, and we know that mighty big things are stirrin'."

"The biggest yet," said Henry. "We've been to New Orleans, and we've come back up the Mississippi into the Ohio with a big fleet of boats and canoes loaded with arms, ammunition, and all kinds of supplies. It is commanded by a brave man, Adam Colfax, and they mean to take all these things up the river to Pittsburgh, where they will be carried over the mountains to our people in the east who are fighting Great Britain."

"I've heard of that fleet, too," said Boone, "an' it's got to get to Pittsburgh, but it won't have any summer trip. Now, what did you hear among the Wyandots?"

"I saw chiefs from all the valley tribes, Wyandots, Shawnees, Miamis, Lenni-Lenape, Ottawas, and Illinois," replied Henry, "and they've bound themselves together for a great war. Their bands are on the march now to the meeting place on the Ohio, opposite the mouth of the Licking. The renegades, too, are with the Wyandots, Mr. Boone. I saw with my own eyes Girty, Blackstaffe, McKee, Eliot, Quarles, and Braxton Wyatt."

Boone's mild eyes suddenly became threatening.

"They'll all be punished some day," he said, "for making cruel war on their own kind. But I can tell you somethin' else that we've just found out. While you were down the Mississippi, some new people have built a settlement an' fort on the south bank of the Ohio some distance before you get to the mouth of the Licking. I think it was a plum' foolish thing to do to settle so far north, but they've got a strong fort and the river is narrow there. They say that they can stop the Indian canoes from passing and help our own people. They call their place Fort Prescott."

"But won't it help, Mr. Boone?" asked Henry.

"It would if they could hold it, but that man Girty has gone on ahead with five hundred picked warriors to take it. It's only a little fort, an' there ain't more than seventy or eighty men in it. I'm afraid he'll take it."

"They must have help," said Henry impulsively. "My friends and I travel light and fast, and we can at least warn them of what is coming. There's a lot in being ready."

"That's so," said Boone, "an' I reckoned that you'd go when you heard what I had to say. Me an' Simon would have gone if we didn't have to warn another place back of the river. But we'll come with help, if they can hold out a while."

"Then it's all settled," said Henry.

"It's settled," said Daniel Boone.

Tom Ross at once went back for the others, and they quickly came. They, too, were delighted to meet the famous Boone and Kenton, but they wasted little time in talk. Boone, with his hunting knife, drew a map on deerskin, and he added verbal details so explicit that skilled forest runners like the five could not fail to go straight to Fort Prescott.

In a quarter of an hour they started. When they reached the forest they glanced back and saw Boone and Kenton leaning on their long rifles, looking at them. Paul impulsively waved his hand.

"These are two men to trust!" he exclaimed.

"Shorely!" said Tom Ross.

They did not speak again for a long time. Dropping into Indian file, Henry in the lead, they traveled fast. They knew that the need of them at Fort Prescott was great. Evidently the men who had built the fort were inexperienced and too confident, and Henry, moreover, had a great fear that Girty and his army would get there first. The renegade was uncommonly shrewd. He would strike as quickly as he could at this exposed place, and if successful--which in all likelihood he would be--would turn the captured cannon against the fleet of Adam Colfax. If superhuman exertions could prevent such a disaster, then they must be made.

It was a warm day, and Paul was the first to grow weary. The way led wholly through woods, and it seemed to him that the heat lay particularly heavy under the boughs of the great trees which served to enclose it and which shut out wandering breezes. But he would not complain. He strove manfully to keep up with the others, step for step, although his breath was growing shorter.

Henry about noon looked back, noticed that Paul was laboring, and stopped for a rest of a half hour. Two or three hours later they struck a great trail, one so large that all knew at least five hundred warriors must have passed. It was obvious that it had been made by Girty and his army, and they saw with a sinking of the heart that it was hours cold. The Indian force was much ahead of them, and its trail led straight away to Fort Prescott.

"I'm afraid they'll beat us to the fort," said Henry. "They've got such a big start. Oh, that Girty is a cunning man! If we could only warn the garrison! Surprise is what they have most to dread."

"It means that we must get there somehow or other and tell them," said Paul. "We've got to do the impossible."

"Shorely," said Tom Ross.

"That is so," said Henry quietly. "We must try for Fort Prescott. If all of us cannot get there in time, then as many as can must. If only one can do it, then he must reach it alone."

"It is agreed," said the others together, and the file of five resumed its swift flight toward the Ohio. _

Read next: Chapter 11. The Race Of The Five

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