Rodney now began to store up, against the emergency he knew was approaching, a stock of dried venison, and hominy and parched corn.

His experience when surrounded by hostile savages had taught him the difficulty of securing food on the march.

As he lay in the shadow of a bush one day he noticed a little worm travelling along a twig. It was the variety commonly called an "inch worm," which advances by pulling its rear up to its forward feet, its back in a curve, and then thrusts forward its length. As the boy watched its laborious progress he thought, "If one may only keep going he'll get there in time," and somehow he felt encouraged. Had he not thought it his duty to remain and care for the old chief he would have set forth that very hour.

As he came near the village several guns were fired in quick succession down at the creek and he knew a party of savages had returned from one of their raids!

The inmates of the village hurried down to meet the newcomers, but the boy lagged behind. Soon they came running back and formed two lines.

Some captive must run the gauntlet!

The prisoner was a man of forty years or more. His hair was long and matted and his arms were bound. Evidently his captors had found him a difficult subject with whom to deal. In running the gauntlet he could not ward off the blows, his arms being tied, but he delivered one well directed kick that doubled a brave up in agony. He got through, but was horribly beaten. All the while he was yelling at the savages in derision, calling them old women and apparently doing everything in his power to enrage them.

A post was set in the ground in front of the encampment, and the prisoner was led out and tied to it. On the way he kicked an Indian, who in his rage would have killed him on the spot, had not another interfered. Sudden death in preference to torture was evidently what the captive sought, but it was not to be granted.

Thinking Ahneota might prevent the torture, which now seemed inevitable, Rodney hurried to the chief's lodge. Within, it was almost dark and he could but dimly see the figure of the man seated on a bear skin, his back against a bale of furs. His head was inclined forward, his chin on his breast.

"Ahneota!" called the boy loudly in his excitement, but there was no answer.

Thinking the Indian slept, the boy grasped him by the arm to wake him.

Ahneota had pa.s.sed to the "happy hunting ground!"

CHAPTER XV

A WELCOME VOICE

Dense bushes fringed a bluff looking down on the Muskingum River. In these, concealed from view, lay a boy of fifteen. His face was worn and thin. His moccasins and leggins were frayed from much running through undergrowth. He was peering through the branches to a bend in the river. He had lain there hours, watching. That morning, a canoe containing two savages came up past him. The Indians were paddling vigorously. Why their haste? That was what the boy would know.

The reader has guessed the lad's name and so will readily understand that Rodney Allison concluded if the Indians were being pursued it was by white men.

Ah! was it? Yes, surely that was the shadow of a canoe. Now he could see its sides under the overhanging branches which concealed its occupants from his view.

"An' all tin twins o' thim great at shenannegan, An' all o' thim born in pairs.

Pat an' Terry, Tom an' Tim, Peter, Mary Ann--"

"Halloa!"

"There's one of 'em coming down through the bushes now, Nick,"

exclaimed a man in the stern of the canoe.

"I never could sing that song without interruption, Chevalier."

The speaker had shipped his paddle and grasped his rifle, saying as he did so: "Look out, boys, the voice is white but there may be red shenannegan behind it."

Rodney Allison leaped to the beach below in full view of the party.

There he stood, panting and staring as though at a ghost.

"I say, sonny, if ye've objections to our looks now's the time to put 'em on file," said Nick.

"Dominick Ferguson! I thought you were dead!" gasped the boy.

"Aisy now, don't feel so bad bekase I'm not. Whereabout did ye find the handle o' me name, lad?"

"So you're not the man the Indians killed, that day down on the Ohio, when they captured me?"

"Do I look loike I was?" Then dawning comprehension showed in the man's face. "Ah reckon poor Job Armistead was the unfortnit one; he never showed up. May your name be Allison?" he asked.

"It is. Have you room in the canoe for one more?"

"We'll make room," spoke two of the men at the same moment, turning the craft to sh.o.r.e. Thus, after long months of captivity and days of fleeing through a country infested with warlike savages, Rodney Allison came back to his own people.

"You must have seen my father, then, Mr. Ferguson?" said the boy as he stepped into the canoe.

"Sure; found him expectin' ye an' he was nigh crazy. You ought to heard him call us cowards an' knaves fer leavin' ye. He wanted to start right off alone to bring ye back, an' would, but we told him thar were others in his family to think about."

"Where is he now, and have you any news from Charlottesville?"

"He went back to Virginny an' give up the enterprise down on the Kanawha. Saw a man the other day who said he heard yer father had joined the men under Lewis. Now if he'd come along with us we'd had a family gatherin' right out here in the woods. The family's well, I reckon, or yer dad wouldn't hev gone sojerin'."

The next day the expedition left the river and began a march toward an Indian settlement known as Wappatomica Town. In the order of this march the division under Captain Wood went ahead, much to the disgust of some of the men with Morgan, for they were greedy for glory, and a chance to win laurels and the consequent promotions.

As they were marching through a part of the country through which Rodney had pa.s.sed in his flight, he remarked to Ferguson, "I don't envy the fellows on ahead when they come to a place about a mile from here. If I know anything about Indians, they'll lie in wait for us there," and he described a locality where he had hidden from a party of savages, one of the critical experiences in his flight.

"Me lad, you come with Ferguson," and Rodney was conducted by him to Morgan and introduced.

"Well, my boy, if you got out alive we ought to be able to get in."

"Captain Morgan, from where I lay in hiding that day a dozen men could shoot down fifty marching below."

"This lad, Captain, knows what he's talking about. The chief of the village where he was captive was the redskin that shot ye through the neck and chased ye an' threw his hatchet at yer head."

"Yes, Ahneota said the Great Spirit turned the tomahawk aside so that you might live to persecute the Indians."

"I hope the old rascal was right. I think, young man, we'll need you for scout duty."

"Askin' yer pardon, Captain, but the lad's had his share o' risk, to my thinkin'."

"Nick, we are here to do something. Every man must do the best he can.

This boy can do that work better than you or I. If you were the best man would ye shirk it?"

"I'll go, Captain," replied Ferguson, "but don't send the boy."

"I want to do what I can, Captain Morgan," said Rodney.

"I can tell 'em, Ferguson, I can tell 'em," and the look of approval Morgan gave the boy as he spoke was one for which Rodney Allison would have stormed an Indian town alone and single handed.