"I'll die trying rather than waiting," said the boy to himself. He hastened to his wigwam, and taking some dried meat and parched corn, arming himself with knife and hatchet, also bow and arrows, he stole un.o.bserved out of the village and into the woods.

Most Indians of that day had become unaccustomed to the use of bow and arrow, and were dependent on the whites to furnish them with guns and ammunition. This was a fact which the old chief bemoaned. Rodney, being deprived of the use of a rifle, shrewdly induced the old Indian to show him how to make a bow and arrows and how to use them and he already had acquired considerable skill.

A little distance away in the forest stood a large tree with a hollow trunk, inside which a tall man might stand up straight, though the opening was small. Once he and Louis had made a sort of perch in the upper part to which a boy might crawl and be safe from observation, unless one went to the trouble of crawling into the hollow and looking up.

Rodney made his way to the tree as best he might in the gathering dusk and hid himself on the perch. There he remained throughout the night, with dismal thoughts for companions and the cries of the night hawk to cheer him. Toward morning he fell asleep. He was awakened by a slight noise and, looking down, saw the face of Caughnega peering in!

Fortunately for both, the savage did not see the perch and went away.

Later, Rodney, cramped and sore, crept out in quest of a drink of water. On his return a sound inside attracted his notice and listening, he heard sobbing. It was Louis. With a cry of joy the little fellow threw himself into Rodney's arms, saying, "I thought you had run away. Caughnega said you had. He was hunting for you last night, and this morning I told him about this place but he came back and said you were not here."

"Don't you ever tell him where I am when he's hunting for me. He hates me and would like to kill me. But how came you here?"

"Maman was cross like a bear and Francois whipped me."

"And she let him do it?"

"Non, but she was so cross I wouldn't tell her. Francois was tipsy."

"The drunken dog! I'd like to horsewhip him. Well, you run back, and when Ahneota is sober tell him I've not run away but will come back when the carousal is ended. Don't say anything to any one else about me. If Francois beats you again tell Maman."

Louis turned back toward the village and, at a turn in the path, met the tipsy Francois. Rodney saw the meeting, and concealed himself behind a tree.

The voyageur had no arms other than the knife in his belt. When he saw Louis he cried, "_He bien! Tiens! prends cela_," slapping the little fellow's face and knocking him down.

Seeing this Rodney was infuriated and forgot all caution. In a few bounds he reached the voyageur and, as the latter turned, hit him a stinging blow on the nose, following it with a well directed one on the Frenchman's chin. The fellow went down like a log and Rodney on top of him. He rolled the dazed man on to his face and bound his arms behind his back with a leather thong he carried.

"I'll fix you if you ever strike Louis again. You get back to the village and, if you want to live, you behave yourself."

Francois was a sorry sight with the blood streaming from his nose. He was sobered and scared but he was to have revenge.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE ROLLED THE DAZED MAN ON TO HIS FACE AND BOUND HIS ARMS BEHIND HIS BACK."]

CHAPTER XI

FATHER MOURNING FOR SON

What of David Allison's fortunes? Weeks had lengthened into months and no word had come back to Charlottesville from the man whom the great woods had swallowed.

After several weeks of weary travel, through forest and by river, the party had reached the location they sought. It was one that would attract even the most practical and stolid of frontiersmen: a plain of several hundred acres surrounded by the forest, a detached part of those great plains farther west, which stretched hundreds of miles with scarcely a tree to dot the expanse.

Along each of two sides of the plain a small stream ran, the two uniting in quite a respectable little river that joined the Great Kanawha River a few miles distant. Through the tall gra.s.s of this little prairie were great "traces" or paths beaten by the feet of pa.s.sing buffalo, elk and deer. Fish swam in the streams and the wild turkey's call was heard in the forest.

"The Garden of Eden with a redskin for sarpint," was the remark of weather-beaten d.i.c.k Saunders, when first he looked upon it.

"We'll do him no ill an' consider weel before taking his advice aboot forbidden fruit," replied David Allison.

On the eastern side of the little prairie, near the forest, a stockade was built of big logs, sharpened at both ends and set close together in the ground, enclosing about an acre in the form of a rectangle, on one side of which, and forming part of the stockade, were several cabins.

The work of construction was arduous and occupied the greater part of the summer but when completed it afforded a wall of protection, and a place where, another year, such cattle as they might be able to drive over the mountains could be sheltered from Indians.

As yet no sign of the red men had been found. While this country was part of the neutral ground between the savages of the North and those of the South, a territory over which all hunted, yet through it warlike bands frequently pa.s.sed on their expeditions, for there was a chronic state of hostility between these savages.

The new settlers planted a little corn, but for other food relied upon hunting. Late in the fall all but three, of whom David Allison was one, left for home, planning to return in the spring with their families. Clark had not remained with the settlers as he had other ventures. Mr. Allison sent a letter to his wife by the only one of those returning, who lived in Charlottesville; but he, being taken sick on the way, did not reach home till the following spring, after Rodney had started to join his father.

The winter months pa.s.sed slowly for David Allison. Most of his companions were uneducated men, accustomed, as he was not, to the rough life. They respected him and he did his share of the work uncomplainingly, though an older man than the others.

One bitter day an Indian called. As there had been no alarm, the entrance to the stockade had carelessly been left open and he readily gained admittance. It appeared he had been with a hunting party, but became separated from them and was nearly famished. He was given something to eat and was then told to go along about his business. In those days some Indians would hang around a settlement, living off the bounty of the inhabitants, and these men didn't intend to encourage the habit. A storm threatened and the Indian was loath to leave. Mr.

Allison took him to his cabin and kept him until after the storm was past.

This act did not please the others of the party and one of them remarked, "Ye'll find that handlin' lazy, sneakin' redskins is different from teachin' school boys."

"I'm of the opinion there's human nature i' the whole o' them," was the quiet reply.

The three men got along without unpleasantness until spring. One day in March Peter Cogan went out to hunt and did not return. Later he was found dead and scalped.

For the first time in his life the horror of Indian treachery in time of peace was forced upon Mr. Allison's mind. He had fought them and knew of their cruelty in time of war, but he had never lived on the frontier and had supposed the stories of outrages somewhat exaggerated and due to ill treatment. His views had been similar to those held by the Quakers of Pennsylvania. Surely this fiendish deed was unprovoked.

With but two left, there was need of the utmost caution and neither of the men ventured far from the stockade.

One evening in May several guns were discharged in succession outside the enclosure. The first party from Virginia had arrived and the warmth of their welcome may be better imagined than described.

"What of home?" were the first words.

"All well."

"But I thought to see the lad along wi' you," said Mr. Allison.

Then was told the story of the attack on the Ohio, when one man had been killed and Rodney had disappeared, whether killed or captured was not known.

"An' you left, deserted him!" he cried, and his cry sounded like a scream. "Cowards each one o' ye! Who'll go with me to find the laddie?

Not one? Then I'll go alone."

It was with difficulty that he was restrained, and finally convinced of the folly of such an undertaking.

"You have a wife an' child at home yet to care for," said one, "an'

it's not yer duty to throw yer life away," and the wisdom of this prevailed with him. But he was never the same man again. The stoop came back to his shoulders never to leave them. He said little and worked unceasingly, as though in that way to forget. On his first opportunity he turned his face toward Virginia, resolved never to bring his wife and little girl into the perils of the wilderness. The journey back to Charlottesville was uneventful. Nearly as many weeks were required for the making of it, as hours in this age of swift transportation.

How he dreaded breaking the news to his wife! She was always so patient with his many failures. Yet, the courage displayed by Mrs.

Allison at the setting out of husband and son was such as to leave no doubt she would meet the new ordeal bravely, as indeed she did. From the first, she expressed great hope that the boy had been made a captive and in time would be restored to them, and so strongly did she urge this view of the matter that her husband regained a little hope.

In his heart, however, there was a bitterness he could not overcome and, as rumours of Indian outbreaks were more frequent, he became uneasy. When, the following spring, General Andrew Lewis was ordered by Governor Dunmore to lead an expedition down the Kanawha River, and across the Ohio River to the Shawnee towns, David Allison resolved to go. The men of the party from which Rodney was captured declared that their a.s.sailants were Shawnees and this induced him to enlist under Lewis.

The mortgage on the little place was as yet unpaid. Mr. Allison on his return had reopened his school, but the pupils were few. He went to Denham, told him of his desire to join the expedition against the Shawnees and his reasons, and asked him if he would not allow him longer time on the payments.

"All the time you want, Meester Allison, all the time you want," and he smiled his greasy smile!