This remark elicited peals of laughter from his brothers and sisters, which Bub taking as insults, he roared the louder.

"Children," cried Mrs. Jones, "stop laughing at Bub."

But he cut too comical a figure for them to stop at once, for, as he had used, the night before, one of Tom's old shirts for a night dress, he now found it difficult to move towards his father, as each time he stepped the garment would trip his feet.

"Children," interposed Mr. Jones, "why don't you hush. Your marm's spoken to you a number of times already."

At which Bub added with dignity, as he tried to balance himself,--

"I des they're _blind_, they're so hard o' hearin'!"

"Your father," said the mother, impressively, "has been shot at by the Indians, and came very near being killed, and you ought to keep more quiet."

"Did they kill you, daddy?" asked Bub, who now stood at his father's knee, his blue eyes wide with wonder; "tause, if they did, I'll stick my big stick into their backs."

There was a suppressed t.i.ttering at this, for which the children felt half ashamed, considering the startling intelligence they had just heard.

"Mother was afraid you'd have trouble with the Indians," observed Tom, "and she was so much worried that she didn't sleep last night."

"Why, the Indians haven't been doing any mischief about here--have they?" asked his father.

"No," replied Tom, "and I told mother that there wasn't any danger."

But the venison was filling the cabin with its savory smell, and Mrs.

Jones said,--

"Hurry, children, and get washed and dressed for breakfast."

And going to the basin, which was in its place on the wash-bench outside the door, with much discussion as to who should have the first chance, hands and faces were treated to a hasty bath.

Mr. Jones was about forty-five years of age--a short, thick-set man, with dark hair and heavy beard. He was a man of much natural ability, and exhibited singular contrasts in character and speech. The free and easy carriage, and quaint language of the "Leather-stocking," sat easily upon him; and yet, at times, he would express himself in words well chosen, and even elegant. He hated society, and was despised by the settlers for his lack of enterprise; and yet, when circ.u.mstances drew him out, they were wonder-struck at the variety and accuracy of his information. These inconsistencies made him a mystery; and he was looked down upon, and looked up to, as his neighbors came in contact with one of the other side of his characteristics. In all, too, that pertained to the habits of the animals, and the appearance of the country, no one was so well posted as he. He was built for physical endurance, was cool and courageous in danger, but could not confine himself to regular employment, bodily or mental.

"Isn't Tom coming to breakfast?" inquired Mr. Jones, as the rest of the children were greedily helping themselves from the plate of meat.

So the mother related how Tom had been hurt, and then said,--

"But you haven't told us how you received your injury?"

"Well," said Mr. Jones, as he pushed away his plate, having satisfied his appet.i.te, "I had started for the lake, hearing that there was a good many wild geese and other sorts of game there, and the prospect was, that we should make a pretty big thing of it; but the afternoon after we reached the pond, and was looking about a little, Davis and I were crossing a prairie, and had come in sight of a grove, and says I to him, 'You just go round on the other side of the thicket, and I'll go in on this, and if there's any deer in there, one of us'll start them out.' Well, I'd got within a few yards of the trees, when, the first I knew, I heard the crack of a rifle, and a bullet came singing through my side. Says I to myself, 'That's a red-skin's compliments!'

and making believe that I was a gorner, I pitched forward and lay still as a door nail, in the tall gra.s.s. I hadn't lain there more 'n a minute, when, sure enough, a red-skin popped out from behind a tree close by, and made for me, to take my scalp. I had my revolver ready, and when he was within a few feet of me, I just let daylight through him; and as he fell, not knowing how many more of the scamps might be about, I dragged myself along to the side of the lake, where I found Davis waiting for me,--for he had seen the whole thing,--and creeping around to the other side under the banks, we made tracks for home. Why under the sun the feller didn't put the bullet through my heart, I can't make out, for I never knew one of 'em to miss, when he was so near as that, and had a fair aim."

Mrs. Jones then knew why her heart was so burdened on his account at the very hour of his marvellous escape from death.

But their conversation was interrupted by a settler who called to ask if they had seen anything of a stray pair of cattle.

"Ah, neighbor Allen, is that you?" said Mr. Jones, going to speak to the caller, who sat upon his horse before the door.

"Ah, Jones, when did you git back? and what luck?" rejoined the horseman in a hearty way.

"Got a taste of venison," replied Mr. Jones, "and had a brush with the Injins."

"Ah, ha! the red scamps want to smell powder again--do they? Well, I'm ready for them, for one, and I have seven boys not an inch shorter than I am, and as good with the rifle as the best, who would like a sight at the varmints. But if none of your folks have seen any stray cattle about the diggins, I must be going. Fact is, I reckon they've been driv off by some thievish villain."

"What sort of cattle were yours?" inquired Mrs. Jones.

"One was red, and the other was a brindle."

"Was the red one very large, with very wide-spreading horns?"

"That's the ticket," said the man.

"I saw such a one last night, going down that way, by our cabin."

"You did? Was Brindle follerin'?"

"No," replied she, "but some men were driving him."

"They were Indians!" cried Tom, excitedly.

But Mrs. Jones fell to sc.r.a.ping the tin pan she held in one hand, with a case-knife, and drowned his words, so that they did not hear, while she motioned to him to be silent.

The caller sat thinking a moment. His hair was silver-white, but his face was youthful and ruddy; and his ma.s.sive, well-knit frame indicated remarkable physical strength. He was a bold and athletic man, skilful with the rifle, and a lineal descendant of the revolutionary hero whose name he bore, and whose fighting characteristics were reproduced in him.

"What time was the ox driv by?" he asked.

"About twelve, I should think," said she.

"Were the men afoot?"

"Yes."

"Well, they'll have to travel fast to git away from me! And if I catch 'em--" But the remainder of the sentence was lost in the distance, for the old man had already touched the trail of the stolen ox, and, dismounting, examined carefully the ground, then fiercely shouting, "Indians!" drove on at full speed.

When he had gone, Mr. Jones turned to his wife, and asked,--

"Did you _see_ the men that driv the ox?"

"Yes."

"Why on earth didn't you say so, then?"

"Husband," said Mrs. Jones, "the trouble will come soon enough; and I was hoping Mr. Allen would never find out who took his cattle. If he shoots one Indian, it will bring hundreds of them upon the settlements, and we shall have dreadful times!"

"Fush!" returned the husband; "Allen is good for a dozen Indians, and there are plenty more of us to help him. But don't you be scared; the red-skins know us too well to risk a fight. They'll only prowl around and steal a little beef, and shoot at a fellar unaware, from under kiver--that's all they'll venter on--you can depend on that!" Then he took down his rifle, cleaned and loaded it, and saying, "I guess I'll go along a piece; perhaps Allen'll come across the varmints afore he's aware," with a quick step he was soon hidden from view.

The news of the accident that had happened to Tom, and that Mr. Jones had been shot at by the Indians, spread rapidly, with many exaggerations; for the inhabitants of a new country, being mutually dependent, feel a special personal interest in whatever befalls each other. Besides, there are not such distinctions as obtain in the old, settled portions of the country, and they become well acquainted with one another's affairs. Moreover, the doctor, as he went his rounds, gave a flaming account of the injury that his patient at the cabin had sustained, and painted in glowing colors the magical effects of his professional services. If he did not a.s.sert in so many words that Tom's head was actually blown from his body, and that he replaced it so that it was on better than before, he gave the impression that something as extraordinary had been achieved by his medical and surgical skill. And through the day quite a number called to satisfy their curiosity, or show their sympathy. It proved, therefore, quite an occasion for the Jones children, and they feasted their eyes and ears to their hearts' content. As for the mother, weary of the unwonted interruptions, and wishing to commune with her own heart, she willingly bade the last visitor "good by," and, calling Robert, she directed him to bring in some wood and make a fire, that she might fry some cakes for tea. Robert proceeded with alacrity to do this, the other children helping him in the task, the prospect of the cakes being the quickening principle. Robert filled the grate with dry wood, and, proceeding to light it, the room was soon dense with smoke. This, however, was no new experience, as the blackened walls of the cabin testified. But soon the smoke had measurably cleared away, and the tea-kettle sent up volumes of steam, and Mrs. Jones, taking some meal from her frugal stock, poured boiling water upon it, and added some salt. Then putting on the griddle some deer fat, she put the dough in large iron spoonfuls into the sputtering grease.

"Your father will relish these," said she to the children, who stood in solid ranks around the stove, watching her with interest. And having taken off the last cake, she set the heaping plate in the open oven to keep warm till her husband came.