"I'm gittin' tired, paddlin' 'roun' in wet clothes," said Long Jim, "and I hope them things uv mine will dry fast, 'cause it would be bad to hev to run fur it ag'in, b'ar-footed this time, an' with not much of anythin' on up to your waist."

"But think how much harder on you it would be ef it wuz winter," said the shiftless one. "Ef you hed to break the ice in the branch ez you walked along it, an' then when you come out hed nothin' but the snow to lay down in an' rest, it would be time fur complainin'. Ez Henry says, we're shorely hevin' luck."

"That's true, an' we've found another fine inn to rest an' sleep in. Ain't this nice solid dry groun'? An' them dead leaves scattered 'bout which we kin rake up fur pillows an' beds, are jest the finest that ever fell. An' them trees are jest ez big an' honest an' friendly ez you could ask, an' the bushes are nice an' well behaved, an' thar shore is plenty of water in the forest fur us to drink. An' we hev a good clean sky overhead. Oh, we couldn't come to a nicer inn than this."

"I'm going to sleep," said Paul. "I'm going to wrap my blanket around the lower half of me, and if the warriors come please wake me in time, so I can put on my leggings before I have to run again."

All soon slept save Henry and Ross, and, after a while, Henry clothed himself fully, everything now being dry, and with a word to Ross, started eastward through the forest. He believed that Blackstaffe, Red Eagle and their party were somewhere in that direction, and he meant to have a look at them. He was thoroughly refreshed by their long rest, and alone he felt able to avoid any danger.

He advanced through the forest, a great flitting figure that passed swiftly, and now, that he was the trailer and not the trailed, all of his marvelous faculties were at their zenith. He heard and saw everything, and every odor came to him. The overwhelming sense of freedom, and of a capacity to achieve the impossible, which he often felt when he was alone, fairly poured in upon him. The feeling of success, of conquest, was strong. He and his comrades, so far, had triumphed over every difficulty, and they had been many and great. The omens were propitious and there was the rising wind singing among the leaves the song that was always a chant of victory for him.

He inhaled the odors of the forest, the breath of leaf and flower. They were keen and poignant to him, and then came another odor that did not belong there. It was brought on the edge of the gentle wind, and his nostrils expanded, as he noticed that it was growing stronger and stronger. He knew at once that it was smoke, distant, but smoke undeniably, and that it must come from a campfire. In all probability it was the fire of Blackstaffe, Red Eagle and their band.

He went at once toward the smoke, and gradually the light of a fire appeared among the trees. Approaching cautiously, he saw the correctness of his surmise that it was Blackstaffe, Red Eagle and their band. Most of the warriors were lying down, all save two or three asleep, but the renegade and the chief were talking earnestly. Henry was eager to hear what they were saying, as it might prove of great value to him in the little campaign that he was leading. Since Wyatt and the rest of the band had not had time to come up, they could not yet know that it was the five with whom they had been in battle that night.

He resolved that he would overhear them at all costs, and lying down in the bushes he began to edge himself forward in the slow and difficult manner of which only an accomplished scout is capable. Fortunately the fire was near the edge of a thicket, from which he could hear, but it took him a long time to gain the position he wished, creeping forward, inch by inch, and careful not to make a bush or a leaf rustle.

When he was at last in place, he lay hidden by the foliage and blended with it, where he could easily see the faces of Blackstaffe and Red Eagle, in the firelight, and hear what they said.



CHAPTER XIII

FIVE AGAINST A THOUSAND

Red Eagle and Blackstaffe were talking in Shawnee, every word of which Henry heard and understood. They sat in Turkish fashion upon the ground, on the same side of the fire, and the blaze flickered redly over the face of each. They were strong faces, primitive, fierce and cunning, but in different ways. The evil fame of Moses Blackstaffe, second only to that of Simon Girty, had been won by many a ruthless deed and undoubted skill and cunning. Yet he was a white man who had departed from the white man's ways.

Red Eagle, the great Shawnee chief, was older, past fifty, and his bronzed face was lined deeply. His broad brow and the eyes set wide apart, expressed intellect—the Indian often had intellect in a high degree. He too was cruel, able to look upon the unmentionable tortures of his foes with pleasure, but it was a cruelty that was a part of his inheritance, the common practices of all the tribes, bred into the blood, through untold generations of forest life.

Henry felt a certain respect for Red Eagle, but none at all for Blackstaffe. Him he hated, with that fierceness of the forest, some of which had crept into his blood, and if he met him in battle he would gladly send a bullet through his heart. The man's face, burnt almost as dark as that of an Indian, showed now in its most sinister aspect. He was suffering from chagrin, and he did not take the trouble to hide it, even from so great a man as Red Eagle, head chief of the Shawnees.

They were talking of Wyatt and the band they had left behind for the siege, and Henry, with a touch of forest humor, enjoyed himself as he listened.

"We did not see well those with whom we fought tonight and who escaped us," said Red Eagle, "but they showed themselves to be warriors, great white warriors. They were more than a match for my young men."

"It is true," said Blackstaffe. "I didn't see them at all, but only the five whom we left besieged in the cave could do what they did."

"But Wyatt and good warriors hold them there."

"So they hoped, but do they, Red Eagle? The manner in which those scouts escaped from our circle makes me believe their leader could have been none but this Henry Ware."

"One of them was outside the cave. He may have come through the forest and have met other white men."

"It might be so, but I'm afraid it isn't. They have broken the siege in some manner and have eluded Wyatt. I had hoped that if he could not kill or capture them he would at least hold them there. It is not well for us to have them hanging upon our army and ambushing the warriors."

"You speak wisely, Blackstaffe. The one they call Ware is only a youth, but he is full of wisdom and bravery. There was an affair of the belt bearers, in which he tricked even Yellow Panther and myself. If we could capture him and make him become one of us, a red warrior to fight the white people to whom he once belonged, he would add much to our strength in war."

Blackstaffe shook his head most emphatically.

"Don't think of that again, great chief," he said. "It is a waste of time. He would endure the most terrible of all our tortures first. Think instead of his scalp hanging in your wigwam."

The eyes of Red Eagle glistened.

"It would be a great triumph," he said, "but our young men have chased him many times, and always he is gone like the deer. We have set the trap for him often, but when it falls he is away. None shoots so quickly or so true as he, and if one of our young men meets him alone in the forest it is the Shawnee over whom the birds sing the death song."

"It's not his scalp that we want merely for the scalp's sake. You are a brave and great chief, O Red Eagle, and you know that Ware and his comrades are scouts, spies and messengers. It's not so much the warriors whom we lose at their hands, but they're the eyes of the woods. They always tell the settlements of our coming, and bring the white forces together. We must trap them on this march, if we have to spread out a belt of a hundred warriors to do it."

"I hope the net won't have any holes in it. We overtake the great band tomorrow, and then you'll have all the warriors you need. They can be spread out on the flank as we march. Hark, Red Eagle, what was that?"

Henry himself in his covert started a little, as the long whine of a wolf came from a point far behind them. One of the warriors on the other side of the fire returned the cry, so piercing and ferocious in its note that Henry started again. But as the chief, the renegade and all the warriors rose to their feet, he withdrew somewhat further into the thicket, yet remaining where he could see all that might pass.

The far wolf howled again, and the near wolf replied. After that followed a long silence, with the renegade, Red Eagle and his men, standing waiting and eager. The signals showed that friends were coming to join friends, and Henry was as eager as they to see the arrivals. Yet he had a shrewd suspicion of their identity.

Dusky figures showed presently among the trees, as a silent line came on. Red Eagle and Blackstaffe were standing side by side, and the renegade broke into a low laugh.

"So Wyatt comes with his men, or most of them," he said.

"I see," said the chief in a tone of chagrin.

"And he comes without any prisoners."

"But perhaps he brings scalps."

"I see no sign of them."

"It is yet too far."

"If they came bearing scalps they would raise the shout of victory."

Red Eagle, great chief of the Shawnees, shook his head sadly.

"It is sure that those whom we pursued in vain tonight were those whom we left besieged in the cave."

"I fear that you speak the truth. They bring no scalps, nor any prisoners to walk on red hot coals."

He spoke sadly and Henry noted a certain grim pathos in his words, which were the words of a savage. Yet the attitude of Red Eagle was dignified and majestic as he waited.

The file came on fast, Braxton Wyatt at its head. When the younger renegade reached the fire, he flung himself down beside it, seized a piece of deer meat, just cooked, and began to eat.

"I'm famished and worn out," he said.

"What did you do with the scalps, Braxton?" asked Blackstaffe, in silky tones—it may be that he thought the younger renegade assumed too much at times.

"They're on the heads of their owners," growled Wyatt.

"And how did that happen? You had them securely blockaded in a hole in a stone wall. I thought you had nothing to do but wait and take them."

"See here, Blackstaffe, I don't care for your taunting. They slipped out, although we kept the closest watch possible, and as they passed they slew one of our best warriors. I don't know how it was managed, but I think it was some infernal trick of that fellow Ware. Anyway, we were left with an empty cave, and then we came on as fast as we could. We did our best, and I've no excuses to make."

"I do not mock you," said Red Eagle gravely. "I have been tricked by the fox, Ware, myself, and so has Yellow Panther, the head chief of the Miamis. But we will catch him yet."

"It seems that we have not yet made any net that will hold him," said Blackstaffe with grim irony. Since it was not he directly, but Red Eagle and Wyatt who had failed, he found a malicious humor in taunting them. "It is the general belief that it was this same youth, Ware, who blew up the scows on which we were to carry our cannon, and then sank the lashed canoes. He seems to be uncommonly efficient."

Among the broken men and criminals who fled into the woods joining the Indians and making war upon their own kind, Moses Blackstaffe was an outstanding character. He was a man of education and subtle mind. It was understood that he came from one of the oldest of the eastern provinces, and that there was innocent blood on his hands before he fled. But now he was high in the councils of the Indian nations, and, like the white man of his type who turns savage, he had become more cruel than the savages themselves.

His gaze as he turned it upon Braxton Wyatt was lightly ironical, and his tone had been the same. Again the younger renegade flushed through his tan.

"I have never denied to him wonderful knowledge and skill," he said. "I have warned you all that he was the obstacle most to be dreaded. He has just proved it. Had he not been there to help 'em at the cave we should have got 'em all."

"And they are giving the laurels of Shif'less Sol to me," said Henry to himself in the thicket. "I shall have to hand them over to him when we go back."

But the great Shawnee chief, Red Eagle, had heard enough talk between the two white men. He was full of the wisdom of his race, and he did not intend that Blackstaffe and Wyatt should impair their value to the tribes by creating ill feeling against each other.

"Peace, my sons," he said in his grave and dignified manner. "It is not well for those who march with us to taunt each other. Words that may be light in the village, breed ill will on the war path. As head chief of the Shawnees it is for me to say these things to you."

As Red Eagle stood up with his arms folded across his broad breast and his scarlet blanket hooked over his shoulder, he looked like a forest Roman. Henry thought him an impressive figure and such a thought, too, was most likely in the mind of Blackstaffe, as he said:

"The words of the chief are wise, and I obey. Red Eagle has proved many and many a time that he is the best fitted of all men to be the head chief of the Shawnees. Wyatt, I was only jesting. You and I must be good comrades here."

He held out his hand and as Wyatt took it, his face cleared. Then the three turned to animated talk about their plans. It was agreed that they should push on in the morning at all speed, and join the main band and the artillery. Dangerous as these cannon were, Henry saw that the Indians gave them almost magic powers. They would completely blow away the settlements, and the forests would soon grow again, where the white man had cut a little open place for himself with the ax.

The conference over, Red Eagle wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down with his feet toward the fire. Again Henry felt an impulse of respect for him. He was true to his race and his inheritance, while the renegades were false in everything to theirs. He did not depart from the customs and thoughts bred into him by many generations, but the renegades violated every teaching of their own race that had brought civilization to the world, and he hated and despised them.

He saw Blackstaffe and Wyatt wrap themselves in their blankets and also lie down with their feet to the fire. All the Indians were at rest save two sentinels. Henry watched this strange scene a few minutes longer. The coals were dying fast and now he saw but indistinctly the figures of white men and red men, joined in a compact to destroy his people utterly, from the oldest man and woman to the youngest child.

Henry did not know it, but he was as much a knight of chivalry and romance as any mailed figure that ever rode with glittering lance. Beneath the buckskin hunting shirt beat a heart as dauntless as that of Amadis of Gaul or Palmerin of England, although there were no bards in the great forest to sing of his deeds and of the deeds of those like him.

He intended to stay only two or three minutes longer, but he lingered nevertheless. The Indian campfire gave forth hardly a glimmer. The figures save those of the sentinels became invisible. The wind blew gently and sang among the leaves, as if the forest were always a forest of peace, although from time immemorial, throughout the world, it had been stained by bloodshed. But the forest spell which came over him at times was upon him now. The rippling of the leaves under the wind he translated into words, and once more they sang to him the song of success.

This new task of his, straight through the heart of danger, had been achieved, and in his modesty, which was a modesty of thought as well as word, he did not ascribe it to any strength or skill in himself, but to the fact that a Supreme Being had chosen him for a time as an instrument, and was working through him. Like nearly all who live in the forest and spend most of their lives in the presence of nature, he invariably felt the power of invisible forces, directed by an omniscient and omnipotent mind, which the Indian has crystallized into the name Manitou, the same as God to Henry.

For that reason this forest spell was also the spirit of thankfulness. He had been guided and directed so far, and he felt that the guidance and direction would continue. All the omens and prophecies remained good, and, with the wind in the leaves still singing the song of victory in his ears, he silently crept away, inch by inch, even as he had come. Well beyond the Indian ear, he rose and returned swiftly to his comrades.

Ross was still on guard and the others sleeping when Henry's figure appeared through the dusk, but they awoke and sat up when he called, low, to them.

"What are you wakin' us up fur, Henry?" asked the shiftless one, as he rubbed a sleepy eye. "Are the warriors comin'? Ef so, I'd like to put on my silk knee breeches, an' my bee-yu-ti-ful new silk stockin's an' my new shoes with the big silver buckles, afore I run through the forest fur my life."

"No, they're not coming, Sol," said Henry. "They're asleep off there and tomorrow morning Blackstaffe, Braxton Wyatt, Red Eagle and the others hurry on to join the main band."

"How do you know that, Henry?"

"They told me."

"You've been settin' laughin' an' talkin' with 'em, right merry, I reckon."

"They told me, just as I said. They told me their plan in good plain Shawnee."

"An' how come Braxton Wyatt with Red Eagle and Blackstaffe?"

"Leaving a fruitless quest, he overtook them. I was lying in the thicket, in hearing distance, when Wyatt came up with his men, joined Blackstaffe and Red Eagle, and had to tell them of his failure."

"You shorely do hev all the luck, Henry. I'd hev risked my life an' risked it mighty close, to hev seed that scene."

Then Henry told them more in detail of the meeting and of the plans that Red Eagle and the two renegades had talked over, drawing particular attention to the net the Indians intended to spread for the five.

"'Pears to me," said Shif'less Sol, "that the right thing fur us to do is to make a big curve—we're hefty on curves—an' go clear 'roun' in front of the band. They'll be lookin' fur us everywhere, 'cept right thar, an' while they're a-plottin' an' a-plannin' an' a-spreadin' out their nets, we'll be a-plottin' an' a-plannin' an' mebbe a-doin' too what we've undertook to do."

"The very thing," said Henry.

"A true strategic march," said Paul.

"Looks like sense," said Silent Tom.

"You do hev rays o' reason at times, Sol," said Long Jim.

"Then it's agreed," said Henry. "We'll take a little more rest, and, soon after daylight, we'll start on one of our great flying marches."

Paul and Long Jim kept the watch, and, not long after the sun rose, they were up and away again. They were now beginning to forge another link in their chain, and, as usual, the spirits of all five rose when they began a fresh enterprise. Their feet were light, as they sped forward, and every sense was acute. They were without fear as they marched on the arc of the great circle that they had planned. They were leaving so wide a space between themselves and the great trail that they could only meet a wandering Indian hunter or two, and of all such they could take care easily.

In truth, so free were they from any kind of apprehension, that plenty of room was left in their minds to take note of the wilderness, which was here new to them. But it was their wilderness, nevertheless, all these fine streams and rolling hills, and deer that sprang up from their path, and the magnificent forest everywhere clothing the earth in its beautiful robe of deepest green, which in the autumn would be an equally beautiful robe of red and yellow and brown.

Their curve was toward the west, and all that day they followed it. They saw the golden sun go creeping up the blue arch of the heavens, hang for a while at the zenith, as if it were poised there to pour down perpendicular beams, and then go sliding slowly down the western sky to be lost in a red sea of fire. And the view of all the glory of the world, though they saw it every day, was fresh and keen to them all. The shiftless one was moved to speech.

"When I go off to some other planet," he said, "I don't want any new kind o' a world. I want it to be like this with big rivers and middle-sized rivers and little rivers, all kinds o' streams an' lakes, and the woods, green in the spring an' red an' yellow in the fall, an' winter, too, which hez its beauties with snow an' ice, an' red roarin' fires to keep you warm, an' the deer an' the buff'ler to hunt. I want them things 'cause I'm used to 'em. A strange, new kind o' world wouldn't please me. I hold with the Injuns that want to go to the Happy Huntin' Grounds, an' I 'xpect it's the kind o' Heaven that the Book means fur fellers like me."

"Do you think you're good enough to go to Heaven, Sol?" asked Long Jim.

The shiftless one deliberated a moment and then replied thoughtfully:

"I ain't so good, Jim, but I reckon I'm good enough to go to Heaven. People bein' what people be, an' me bein' what I am, all with a pow'ful lot to fight ag'inst an' born with somethin' o' the old Nick in us, an' not bein' able to change our naturs much, no matter how hard we try, I reckon I hev a mighty fine chance o' Heaven, which, ez I said, I want to be a world, right smart like this, only a heap bigger an' finer. But I don't mean to go thar for seventy or eighty years yet, 'cause I want to give this earth a real fa'r trial."

In which the shiftless one had his wish, as he lived to be a hundred, and his eyes were clear and his voice strong to the last.

"That's a mighty fine picture you draw, Sol," said Long Jim, appreciatively, "an' if you're up thar settin' on the bank uv a river that looks plum' like runnin' silver with green trees a thousand feet high risin' behind you, you ketchin' fish thirty or forty feet long, an' ef you should happen to turn an' look 'roun' an' see comin' toward you a long-legged ornery feller that you used ter cahoot with in the wilderness on both sides uv the Ohio, would you rise up, drop them big fish an' your fishin' pole, come straight between the trunks uv them green trees a thousand feet high toward that ornery lookin' long-legged feller what wuz new to the place, stretch out your right hand to him, an' say: 'Welcome to Heaven Long Jim Hart. Come right in an' make yourself to home, 'cause you're goin' to live with us a million an' a billion years, an' all the rest uv the time thar is. Your fishin' pole is down thar by the bank. I've been savin' it fur you. Henry is 'bout a mile farther up the stream pullin' in a whale two hundred feet long that he's had his eye on fur some time. Paul is down thar, settin' under a bush readin' a book uv gold letters on silver paper with diamonds set in the cover, an' Tom Ross is on that hill, 'way acrost yonder, lookin' at a herd uv buff'ler fifty miles wide which hez been travelin' past fur a month.' Now, Sol, would you give your old pardner that kind uv a welcome?"

"Would I Jim? You know I would. I'd blow on a trumpet an' call all the boys straight from what they wuz doin' to come a-runnin' an' meet you. An' I'd interduce you to all our new friends. An' I'd show you the best huntin' grounds an' the finest fishin' holes right away, an' when night come all o' us with our new friends would hev a big feast an' celebration over you. An' all o' us thar in Heaven that knowed you, Jim, would be right proud o' you."

"I knowed that you'd take me right in, Sol," said Long Jim, as they shook hands over the future.

"Now for the night," said Henry. "We must be at least fifteen miles west of the great trail, and as the woods are so full of game I don't think any of the Indian hunters will find it necessary to come this far for it. So, I propose that we have a little warm food ourselves. We need it by this time."

"That's the talk," said Long Jim. "It would be jest a taste uv Heaven right now. What wuz you thinkin' to hev fur our supper table, Henry?"

"I had an idea that all of us would like turkey. I've been noticing turkey signs for some time, and there, Jim! don't you hear that gobbling away off to the right? They're settling into the trees for the night, and it should be easy to get a couple. Just now I think turkey would be the finest thing in the world."

"I've a mighty strong hankerin' after turkey myself an' the way I kin cook turkey is a caution to sinners. Ever since you said turkeys a half minute ago, Henry, I'm famishin'. Bring on your turkey, the cook's ready."

"Me an' Sol will go an' git 'em," said Tom Ross, and the two slipped away in the twilight toward the sound of the gobbling. Presently they heard two shots and then the hunters came back, each with a fat bird. Selecting a dip from which flames could be seen only a little distance, they dressed the turkeys in frontier fashion and Long Jim, his culinary pride strong within him, cooked them to a turn. Then they ate long, and were unashamed.

"Jest a touch o' Heaven right now," said Shif'less Sol, in tones of deep conviction. "This is the healthy life here, an' it makes a feller jump when he oughter jump. Me bein' a naterally lazy man, I'd be likely to lay 'roun' an' eat myself so fat I couldn't walk, but the Injun's don't give me time. Jest when I begin to put on flesh they take after me an' I run it all off. You wouldn't think it, but Injuns has their uses, arter all."

"Keep people from comin' out here too fast," said Ross. "Think they wuz put in the wilderness to save it, an' they will, long after my time."

"Why, Tom," said the shiftless one, "you're becomin' real talkative. I think that's the longest speech I ever heard you make."

"Tom is certainly growing garrulous," said Paul.

Silent Tom blushed despite his tan.

"I'm through, anyway," he said.

"Guess Sol thought Tom wuz takin' part uv his time," said Long Jim Hart. "That's why he spoke up. Sol claims all uv his own time fur talkin', all uv Tom's, an' all the rest that may be left over by any uv us."

"Mighty little you ever leave over, Jim," said the shiftless one. "Besides, there's a dif'rence between you an' me talkin'. When I talk I'm always sayin' somethin'; but yourn is jest a runnin' gabble, like the flowin' uv a creek, always the same an' meanin' nothin'."

"Well," said Henry, "we've had plenty of good fat turkey, an' it was cooked mighty fine, in Long Jim's best style, but there's some left, which I think we'd better pack in our knapsacks for tomorrow."

After putting away the food for a later need, they carefully smothered the last coal of the fire, and then, as a precaution, should the flame have been seen by any wandering warrior, they moved a mile farther west and sat down in a little hollow where they remained until well past midnight, all sleeping save a guard of one, turns being taken. About two o'clock in the morning they started again, traveling at great speed, and did not stop until noon of the next day. They delayed only a half-hour for food, water and rest, and pressed on at the long, running walk of the border that put miles behind them at an amazing rate.

Late in the afternoon they came to high hills clothed, like the rest of the country, in magnificent forest, and, while the others watched below, Henry climbed the tallest tree that he could find. The sun was declining, but the east was yet brilliant, and he saw faintly across it a dark line that he had expected. The great Indian camp surely lay at the base of the dark line, and when he descended he and his comrades began to curve toward the east.

Morning would find them ahead of the Indian army, and between it and the settlements. Every one of them felt a thrill of excitement, even elation. The forging of the new link in the chain was proceeding well, and brilliant success gives wonderful encouragement. They did not know just what they would do next, but four trusted to the intuition and prowess of their daring young leader.

Their minds were at such high tension that they did not sleep much that night, and when dawn came again they had traveled so far that they calculated they had arrived at the right point of the circle. It was a question, however, that could be decided easily. Henry again climbed the highest tree in the vicinity, and looking toward the north now saw the smoke of the same campfire apparently three or four miles away.

"Are they thar, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol, as he climbed down.

"Yes. They haven't moved since sundown yesterday, and I judge they're in no hurry. I fancy the warriors suppose the cannon can easily secure them the victory, no matter how much we may prepare against them, and the Englishmen are probably weary from hard traveling through the forest."

"I guess all that's true, but they'll shorely start in an hour or two anyway, an' then what are we to do to stop 'em?"

The eyes of the great youth filled with sudden fire.

"We're five against a thousand," he said. "We've rifles against cannon, but we can do something. We're coming to the edge of a country that I know. Three miles to the south of us is a river or deep creek that can't be waded, except at a place between two hills. The Indians know that ford, and so they'll make for it. We'll be on the other side, and we'll hold the ford."

The others stared at him.

"Henry," exclaimed Paul, "you just said that we were five against a thousand, and rifles against cannon, now how could we possibly hold the ford against such an army? Besides, the Indian warriors, by scores, could swim the river elsewhere, and flank us on either side."

"I don't mean that we shall hold it a long time. We'll make 'em give battle, stop 'em for a while, and then, when the flankers swim the stream we'll be gone. We will not let ourselves be seen, and they may think it a large force, retiring merely because their own army is larger."

"That is, we've got to give 'em a skeer," said Long Jim.

"Exactly. We want to make those Indians think that Manitou is against 'em. We want to sow in their minds the seeds of fear and superstition. You know how they're influenced by omens and things they can't understand. If we give 'em a brisk little fight at the ford, and then get away, unseen, it will set them to doubting, and plant in their minds the fear of ambush by large forces."

The face of the shiftless one shone.

"That suits me clean down to the ground," he said. "It's wile an' stratagem which I like. Lead on to this ford, Henry, an' we'll lay down an' rest beside it till they come up."

The others showed as much enthusiasm, and, carefully hiding their trail, they reached the ford, which they found highly favorable to their purpose. Save here the banks of the river were high on both sides, and the gorge, through which the red army with its cannon and wagons must approach the ford, was not more than twenty feet wide. On both banks the forest was unbroken and there were many dense thickets.

"This place was shorely made fur an ambush," said the shiftless one as they waded across. "Ef we had a hundred good men we could turn back their whole army for good, 'cause they can't flank so easy, ez them high banks on both sides run ez fur ez I kin see."

"And here is the thicket in which we can lie," said Paul.

"They can't catch a glimpse of us from the other side. They can see only the fire and smoke of our rifles," said Henry.

"An' since we're here in our nest," said Shif'less Sol, "we'd better set still an' rest till they come up. I 'low we'll need all our strength an' nerves then."



CHAPTER XIV

HOLDING THE FORD

The five lay down in the thicket, completely hidden themselves, but commanding a splendid view of the deep, clear stream and the gorge by which the red army must approach. They were calm in manner, nevertheless their hearts were beating high. The sunshine was so brilliant that every object was distinct far up the gorge, and Henry felt sure the Indian army would come into sight, while it was yet beyond rifle shot. Nor were the leaders likely to send forward scouts and skirmishers, as they apprehended no danger in front. It was on their flank or rear that they expected the five to hang.

The five did not speak and the silence was complete, save for the usual noises of the forest. Birds chattered overhead. Little animals rustled now and then in the thickets, fish leaped in the river, but there was no sound to indicate that man was near. They were not nervous nor restless. Inured to danger, waiting had become almost a mechanical act, and they were able to lie perfectly still, however long the time might be.

They saw the column of smoke fade, and then go quite away. There was not a fleck on the sky of blazing blue, and Henry knew that the red army had broken up its camp, and was on the march. He had a sudden fear that they might send ahead scouts and skirmishers, but reflection brought him back to his original belief that they would not do so, as they would not foresee the transference of the five to their front.

The hours passed and Shif'less Sol, who had been lying flat upon the ground, raised his head.

"I hear wheels," he said laconically.

Henry put his own ear to the ground.

"So do I," he said.

"Wheels of cannon and wagons."

"Beyond a doubt."

"Them that we're lookin' fur."

"There are no others in the wilderness. Long Jim, how's your voice today?"

"Never better, Henry. I could talk to a man a mile away. Why?"

"Because I may want you to give out some terrible yells soon, the white man's yells, understand, and, as you give 'em, you're to skip about like lightning from place to place. This is a case in which one man must seem to be a hundred."

"I understand, Henry," said Long Jim proudly, tapping his chest. "I reckon I'm to be the figger in this fight, an', bein' ez so much is dependin' on me, I won't fail. My lungs wuz never better. I've had a new leather linin' put inside 'em, an' they kin work without stoppin', day an' night, fur a week."

"All right, Jim. Do your proudest, and the others are to help, but you're to be the yell leader, and the better you yell the better it will be for all of us."

"I'll be right thar Henry."

"They'll soon be in sight," said the shiftless one, who had not taken his ear from the ground. "I kin hear the wheels a-creakin' and a-creakin', louder an' louder."

"And they have not sent forward anybody to spy out the country, which is better for us," said Henry.

"An' now I kin hear somethin' else," said Shif'less Sol. "They're singin' a war song which ain't usual when so many are on the march, but they reckon they've got at least two or three hundred white scalps ez good ez took already."

Now the ferocious chant, sung in Shawnee, which they understood, came plainly to them. It was a song of anticipation, and when they translated it to themselves it ran something like this:

To the land of Kaintuckee we have come, Wielders of the bow and the tomahawk, we, Shawnee and Miami, Wyandot and Delaware Matchless in march and battle we come, Great is Manitou.

The white man will fall like leaves before us, His houses to the fire we will give, All shall perish under our mighty blows, And the forest will grow over his home, Great is Manitou.

It went on in other verses, rising above the creak of the wheels, a fierce, droning chant that drummed upon the nerves and inflamed the brain. Much of its power came from its persistency upon the same beat and theme, until the great chorus became like the howling of thousands of wolves for their prey.

"Ef I couldn't feel my scalp on my head right now," said Shif'less Sol, "I'd be shore that one o' them demons out thar had it in his hands, whirlin' it 'roun' an' 'roun'."

"Guess I won't need nothin' more to make me yell my very darndest," said Long Jim.

"They'll be in sight in a minute or two," said Paul, "and I'm truly thankful that we have ground so favorable. We wouldn't have a chance without it."

"That's so," said Henry, "and we must never lose our heads for a minute. If we do we're gone."

"Anyway, surprise will be a help to us," said Shif'less Sol, "'cause all the signs show that they don't dream we're here. But jest to ourselves, boys, I'm mighty glad that river is between us an' them. Did you ever hear sech a war chant? Why, it freezes me right into the marrer!"

"They've gone mad with triumph before they've won it," said Henry. "They intoxicate themselves with singing and dancing. Look at those fellows on the outer edges of the line jumping up and down."

"An' did you ever see savages more loaded down with war paint?" said Long Jim. "Why, I think it must be an inch thick on the faces uv them dancers an' jumpers!"

The forest, in truth, had beheld few sights as sinister as this Indian army advancing, keeping step to its ferocious chant. Henry saw Yellow Panther come into view, and then Red Eagle, and then the rumbling guns with their gunners, and then Blackstaffe and Wyatt, and then the English Colonel, Alloway, his second, Cartwright, and three or four more officers riding. After them came the caissons and the other ammunition wagons, and then more warriors, hundreds and hundreds, joining in that ferocious whining chorus. The red coats of the British officers lent a strange and incongruous touch to this scene of forest and savage warfare.

"I don't like to shoot a white man from ambush," said Henry, "but I'd be perfectly willing to send a bullet through the head of that Colonel Alloway. It would help our people—save them, perhaps—because without the British the Indians can't use the guns."

"You won't git a chance, Henry," said Long Jim. "He's too fur back. The warriors will come into range fust, an' we'll hev to open fire on 'em. I don't see no signs of flankers turnin' off from the crossin'."

"No, they won't send 'em up such high hills when they don't think any enemies are near. Make ready, boys. The foremost warriors are now in range. I hate to shoot at red men, even, from ambush, but it has to be done."

Five muzzles were thrust forward in the bushes, and five pairs of keen eyes looked down the sights, as on came the chanting army, painted and horrible. The vanguard would soon be at the water.

"Be sure you don't miss," said Henry. "The more deadly our first blow the better chance we have to win."

Every one of the five concentrated all his faculties upon his target. He saw or thought of nothing but the painted chest or face upon which he directed his aim.

"Ready," said Henry.

Five gunlocks clicked.

"Fire!"

Five triggers were pulled, and five streams of flame darted from the bushes. Never had the five aimed bullets to better purpose, since their targets, broad and close, lay before them. Five warriors flung up their arms, and uttering the death howl, fell. A tremendous yell of surprise and rage arose from the Indians, and they crowded back upon one another, appalled, for the moment, by the sudden and deadly messengers of death.

"Now, Jim, now!" exclaimed Henry. "Yell as if you were a thousand men. Run up and down in the bushes that your yells may come from point to point! Shout, man, shout!"

Long Jim needed no command. His tremendous battle cry burst out, as he rushed back and forth in the thickets. It was some such shout as the old Vikings must have uttered, and it pealed out like the regular beat of a big drum. It expressed challenge and defiance, victory and revenge, and, to the ears of the red hearers on the other shores, the thickets seemed fairly to swarm with fighting men. The four added their efforts to those of Long Jim, but their cries formed merely a chorus, above which swelled the thundering note of the forest Stentor.

The cords in Long Jim's throat swelled, his cheeks bulged, his eyes stood out, but his voice never broke. Without failing for an instant, it poured forth its mighty stream of challenge and invective, and the others, as they reloaded in all haste, looked at him with pride. It was their own Long Jim, he of the long legs and long throat, who had made many a great effort before, but none like this.

The warriors had recoiled still further. Both Yellow Panther and Red Eagle drew back in the ruck. The singing of the warriors ceased, and, with it, ceased the creaking wheels of the cannon and ammunition wagons. Henry saw Alloway and his officers stop, and he looked once more at the colonel, but it was too far for certainty, and they must not send forward any shots that missed. In front of the recoiling army lay five dark figures on the green, and they must continue with the deadliness of their fire to create the impression of great numbers.

"Now boys!" exclaimed Henry. "Again! Steady and true!"

Five rifles cracked together and Long Jim, who had ceased only long enough to aim and pull the trigger resumed his terrific chant. This time three of the warriors were slain and two wounded. Henry, a true general, quickly changed the position of his army, Long Jim still shouting, and no missile from the fire poured out now by the Indians, touching them. A few of the bullets entered the portion of the thicket where they had crouched, but the rest fell short. A great flight of arrows was sent forth, but the distance was too great for them, and with most of the bullets they fell splashing into the water.

"Now, boys," said Henry, "creep back and forth, and pick your warriors! There's plenty for all of us, and nobody need be jealous! If you can get any of the white gunners so much the better!"

And they responded with all the fire and skill and courage belonging to such forest knights, knights as brave and true and unselfish as any that ever trod the earth. Five against a thousand! Young forest runners against an army! Rifles against cannon they yet held the ford and flung terror into the hearts of their foes! Before that rain of death, and that thundering chorus of mighty voices, coming from many points, the warriors recoiled yet farther, and were stricken with superstitious dread by the sudden and mortal attack from an invisible foe. Even the face of Alloway, and he was brave enough, blanched. This was something beyond his reckoning, something of which no man would have dreamed, he was not used to the vast and sinister forest—sinister to him—and the invisible stroke appalled him. His courage soon came back, but he cursed fiercely under his breath, when he saw one of his gunners go down, shot through the heart, and a moment later another fall with a bullet through his head. Like the Indians, he saw a numerous and powerful foe on the opposite bank, and the ford was narrow and steep.

"They're drawing back for a conference," said Henry. "I believe we've made 'em think we're not a hundred only, but two hundred. Long Jim, your title as king of yellers is yours without dispute as long as you live. You've done magnificent work."

"I think I did shout a little," said Long Jim triumphantly, "but Henry, I'm just plum' empty uv air. Every bit uv it hez been drawed up from my lungs, an' even from the end uv ev'ry toe an' finger."

"Well, sit down there, Jim, and refill yourself, because we may have need of your lungs again. There's no better air than that we find in the forest here, and you'll have plenty of time, as they won't be through with that conference yet for at least five minutes."

Henry saw the savages gathered in a great mass, well out of rifle shot, and, on a little hill back of them, the British officers, the renegades and the chiefs were talking earnestly. Beyond all possible doubt they had agreed that they were confronted by a formidable force. The proof of it lay before them. Valiant warriors had fallen and the two slain gunners could not be replaced. Henry knew that it was a bitter surprise to them, and they must think that the settlers, hearing of the advance against them, had sent forward all the men they could raise to form the ambush at the ford.

He was full of elation, and so were his comrades. Five against an army! and the five had stopped the army! Rifles against cannon. And the rifles had stopped the cannon! The two slain gunners were proof of an idea already in his mind, and now that idea enlarged automatically. They would continue to pick off the gunners. What were a few warriors slain out of a mass of a thousand! But there were only seven or eight gunners, no, five or six, because two were gone already! He whispered to his comrades to shoot a gunner whenever there was a chance, and they nodded in approval.

The conferences lasted some time, and the gorge in front of them was filled with savages, a great mass of men with tufted scalp locks, some bare to the waist, others wrapped in gaudy blue or red or yellow blankets, a restless, shifting mass, upon which the sun poured brilliant rays, lighting up the savage faces as if they were shot with fire. It was a strange scene, buried in the green wood, one of the unknown battles that marked the march of the republic from sea to sea. As the five stared from their covert at the savage army the vivid colors were like those of shifting glass in a kaleidoscope. The whole began to seem unreal and fantastic, the stuff of dreams. To Paul, in particular, whose head held so much of the past, it was like some old tale out of the Odyssey, with Ulysses and his comrades confronting a new danger in barbaric lands.

"They're about to do somethin'," whispered the shiftless one.

"So I think," said Henry.

The British officers, the renegades and the chiefs walked down from the mound. Among the savages arose a low hum which quickly swelled into a chant, and Henry interpreted it as a sign that they now expected victory. How! He wondered, but he did not wonder long.

"They're goin' to use the cannon," said the shiftless one.

It seemed strange to Henry that he had not thought of this before, but now that the danger was imminent his mind met it with ready resource.

"We must crawl into a hole, boys," he said, "and stay there while the cannon balls pass over us."

"Here's a gully," said the shiftless one, "and it will hold us all."

"The rest of you go into it," said Henry. "I've changed my mind about myself."

"What are you thinking of?" asked Paul.

"Do you see that big tree growing further down the slope, a little closer to the river. It's hidden to the boughs, by the bushes growing thick all around it, and above them the foliage of the tree is so heavy that nobody twenty yards away could see into it. I mean to climb up there and make it hot for those gunners. This rifle of mine will reach pretty far."

Henry had a beautiful long-barreled weapon, and the others, although knowing the danger, could say nothing in opposition.

"Suppose we let them fire two or three shots first," said Henry. "Then, as we make no reply, they may bring the cannon up closer."

Again four heads nodded in approval, and Henry, creeping forward through the bushes, climbed rapidly up the tree. Here, hidden as if by walls, he nevertheless saw well. The gunners, helped by the Indians, were bringing forward both of the cannon. They were fine bronze guns, glistening in the sun, and their wide mouths looked threatening. Spongers, rammers and the real gunners all stood by.

Henry saw a twelve pound ball hoisted into each bronze throat, and then, as the gunners did their work, each mass of metal crashed through the thickets, the savages yelling in delight at the thunderous reports that came back, in echo after echo. There was no reply from the thickets, and they began to reload for the second discharge. Then Henry marked the gunner at the cannon on his right, and slowly the long muzzle of the beautiful blue steel barrel rose until it bore directly upon the man. Paul, from his position, could see Henry in the tree, and he was sorry for the gunner who was about to die there in the forest, four thousand miles from his native land, a good-natured soldier, perhaps, but sent by his superiors on an errand, the full character of which he did not understand.

The sponger and rammer did their work. The shot was fired and the gunner leaned forward, looking eagerly at the dense woods and thickets to see what damage his shot had done. No reply came save a rifle shot, and the gunner fell dead upon his gun. Paul in the thickets shivered a little, but he knew that it must be done.

The allied tribes again gave forth a whoop of rage and chagrin, and Henry from his place in the tree clearly saw Alloway, waving his sword and encouraging them. "If he would only come a little nearer," grimly thought the young forest runner, as he reloaded rapidly, "he might by the loss of his own life save the lives of many others." But Alloway kept back.

They were now making ready the second cannon, but as the rammer stepped forward the deadly marksman in the tree reached him with his bullet, and, falling beside his gun, he lay quite still. Once more the thousand voices of the warriors joined in a terrible cry of wrath and menace, but the young forester reloaded calmly, and the sponger, smitten down, fell beside his comrade.

Long Jim and the shiftless one, who lay side by side, gazed at the tree in silent admiration. They knew the ability of their comrade as a sharpshooter, but never before had he been so deadly at such long range.

"They'll hev to draw them cannon back," whispered Shif'less Sol, "or he'll pick off every one o' the white men that manage 'em."

"Then I hope they won't draw 'em back," said Long Jim.

But Alloway and the chiefs saw the necessity of taking the gun beyond rifle range, and they withdrew them quickly, although not quickly enough to keep another of the white men from receiving a painful wound. The savages discharged a volley from their rifles and muskets, and flights of arrows were sent into the thickets, but arrows and bullets alike fell short. Many of the arrows merely reached the river, and Paul found a curious pleasure in watching these feathered messengers fly through the air, and then shoot downward into the water, leaving bubbles to tell for a moment where they had gone.

"They're goin' to shoot them cannon ag'in," said Shif'less Sol, "but they're puttin' a different kind o' ammunition in 'em."

"It's grape," said Paul.

"What's grape?" asked Long Jim.

"All kinds of metal, slugs and suchlike, that scatter."

"Like a handful uv buckshot, only bigger an' more uv it."

"That describes it."

"Then it 'pears to me that we'd better back water a lot, an' give all them grape a chance to bust an' fly whar we ain't."

"Words of wisdom, Jim," said Henry, "and we'd better get behind trees, too."

"An' good big ones," said Shif'less Sol. "Ef I've got an oak seven feet through in front o' me they kin go on with thar fireworks."

They retreated hastily and lay down behind the great trunks, none too soon either, as the cannon roared and the grapeshot whistled all about them, cutting off twigs and leaves and ploughing the earth.

"That shorely is dang'rous business—fur us," said Shif'less Sol. "I'm glad they didn't start with it. It's like a swarm o' iron bees flyin' at you, an' ef you ain't holed up some o' 'em is bound to hit you."

"Back there!" exclaimed Henry to the shiftless one, who was peeping behind his oak, "they're about to fire the second gun!"

The discharge of grapeshot again fell in the thicket, but it hurt no one, and the five did not reply. Two more shots were fired, doing great damage to the forest at that spot, but none of the five. Then came a pause.

"The white men and the chiefs have gone into consultation again," announced Henry.

"Why haven't they sent out flankers to cross the river?" said Paul. "I haven't seen a single warrior leave the main band."

"They've been confident that the cannon would do the work," replied Henry, "and besides, the warriors don't like those high banks. Now you mustn't forget, either, that they think we're a big force here."

"But they'll come to that," said the shiftless one. "They don't dare charge down that narrow gorge, on through the river, an' up the hill ag'inst us. Sooner or later, warriors will cross the stream out o' our sight, both above an' below us, an' that's just what we've got to look out fur."

"Right you are, Sol," said Henry, "but I don't think they will do it for a while. They'd like to force the passage without waste of time and go right ahead with their march."

Several more charges of grape were fired into the thickets, and leaves and twigs again rained down, but the five, sheltered well, remained untouched by the fragments of hissing metal. Then the guns relapsed into silence.

"Likely the redcoat colonel has ordered 'em to stop shooting," said Paul. "He won't want 'em to waste their ammunition here, but to save it for the palisades of our settlements."

"Sounds most probable," said Henry. "They can't get any new supply of gunpowder and cannon balls and grapeshot, in these woods."

"What'll they do now?" asked Tom Ross.

"I don't know," replied Henry.

"I wish I had one uv them spyglasses I saw back east, when I wuz a boy," said Long Jim.

"What's a spyglass?" asked Shif'less Sol.

"It's two magnifyin' glasses in short tubes fastened side by side, what you put to your eye an' then you bring things near to you an' see 'em big."

"Then I wish I had one too, Jim. I'd like to see the face o' that British colonel. I know that the blood hez all run to his head an' that he's hoppin' mad. Them reg'lar army orficers ain't never much good in the woods. I've heard how Braddock had all his forces cut plum' to pieces by a heap smaller number o' warriors, 'cause he wouldn't use our forest ways. An' I'd like through them glasses to see the face o' Braxton Wyatt too, 'cause I know he's turned blue with rage, an' I'd like to hear him grindin' his teeth, 'cause I know he's grindin' 'em hard, and Blackstaffe must be grindin' in time with him too. An' I'd like to see them two chiefs, Yellow Panther an' Red Eagle so mad that they're pullin' away at their scalp locks, fit to pull them clean out o' their heads."

"Since we ain't got any spyglass," said Long Jim, with a sigh, "we've got to imagine a lot uv it, but I've got a fine an' pow'ful imagination, an' so hev you, Sol Hyde."

"Yes, I'm seein' the things I want to see. It's cur'us how you kin do that sometimes, ef you want to hard enough."

"I think," said Henry, "that they're going to try the flankers now. I can see the leaders talking to warriors whom they've called to 'em."

"And does that mean that it's time fur us to light out?" asked Shif'less Sol.

"Not yet. The banks on both sides are high and steep for a long distance, and we can see anyone who tries to pass. We must spread out. Long Jim, our great yeller, the prize yeller of the world, we must leave here, and, if any of us bring down any warrior who tries to cross, he must yell even better than he did before. Stretch those leather lungs of yours, Long Jim, as if you were a pair of bellows."

"You kin depend on me," replied Long Jim complacently. "I'm one that's always tryin' to do better than he did before. Ef I've yelled so I could be heard a mile then I want to yell the next time so I kin be heard a mile an' a half."

Henry and Paul went upstream and Shif'less Sol and Silent Tom down stream, taking good care to keep hidden from the very best eyes in the savage army. It was not merely the youthful general's object to make a delay at the ford—that in itself was of secondary importance—but he must turn into a cloud the veil of fear and superstition that he knew already enveloped the savage army. They must be smitten by unknown and mysterious terrors. The five must make the medicine men who were surely with them believe that all the omens were bad. Henry, although the word "psychology" was strange to him, knew the power of fear, and he meant to concentrate all the skill of the five upon its increase. He felt that already many doubters must be in the ranks of the red and superstitious army.

"Paul," he said, when they had gone three or four hundred yards, "you stay here, and if you see any warriors trying to cross the stream take your best aim. I'm going a little farther, and I'll do the same. With our great advantages in position we should be able to drive back an attack, unless they go a very long distance to make the crossing."

"I'll do my best," said Paul, and Henry went about three hundred yards farther, lying close in a clump of laurel, where he could command a perfect view of the opposite shore, noticeable there because of a considerable dip. It was just such a place as the flanking warriors would naturally seek, because the crossing would be easier, and he intended to repel them himself.

He lay quite still for a quarter of an hour. Nothing stirred in the forest on the other shore, but he had expected to wait. The Indians, believing that a formidable force opposed them, would be slow and cautious in their advance. So he contained himself in patience, as he lay with the slender muzzle of his rifle thrust forward.

Finally, he saw the bushes on the opposite shore move, and a face, painted and ghastly, was thrust out. Others followed, a half-dozen altogether, and Henry saw them surveying the river and examining his own shore. The muzzle of his rifle moved forward a few inches more, but he knew that it would be an easy shot.

The leader of the warriors presently began to climb down the bank. He was a stalwart fellow and Henry knew by his paint that he was a Miami. Again the great youth was loath to fire from ambush, but a desperate need drives scruples away, and the rifle muzzle, thrusting forward yet an inch or two more, bore directly upon the Indian's heart.

The man was halfway down the bank, about thirty feet high at that point, when Henry pulled the trigger. Then the Indian uttered his death yell, plunged forward and fell head foremost into the stream. His body shot from sight in the water, came up, floated a moment or two with the current and then sank back again. The other warriors, appalled, climbed back hastily, while from the bushes that fronted the ford below came a series of triumphant and tremendous shouts, as Long Jim, hearing the shot, poured forth all the glory of his voice.

Truly he surpassed himself. His earlier performance was dimmed by his later. The thickets, where he ranged back and forth, shouting his triumphant calls, seemed to be full of armed men. His voice sank a moment and then came the report of a shot down the stream, followed by the death cry. Long Jim knew that it was Shif'less Sol or Silent Tom who had pulled the fatal trigger and he began to sing of that triumph also. Clear and full his voice came once more, moving rapidly from point to point, and Henry in his covert laughed to himself, and with satisfaction, at the long man's energy and success.

The great youth did not fail to watch the opposite shore, quite sure that the party would not retire with the loss of a single warrior, but would make an attempt elsewhere. His eyes continually searched the thickets, but they were so dense that they disclosed nothing. Then he moved slowly up the stream, believing that they would go farther for the second trial, and he was rewarded by the glimpse of a feather among the trees. That feather, he knew was interwoven with a scalp lock, and, as the slope of the bank there was gradual, he was sure that they were coming.

It seemed to Henry that verily the fates fought for him. He knew that they were going to try the crossing there, and they would be easy prey to the concealed marksman. Even as he knelt he heard Long Jim's voice raised again in his mighty song of triumph, and although he could not hear the shot now, he was certain that the rifle of Silent Tom or Shif'less Sol had found another victim. So they, too, were guarding the ford well, and he smiled to himself at the courage and skill of the invincible pair.

He saw another scalp lock appear, then another and another, until they were eight in all. The warriors remained for several minutes partly hidden, scanning the opposite shore, and then one only emerged into full view, as if he were feeling the way for the others. Henry changed his tactics, and, instead of waiting for the man to begin the descent of the cliff, fired at once. The warrior fell back in the bushes, where his body lay hidden, but the others set up the death cry, and Henry was so sure that they would not try the crossing again soon—at least not yet—that he went back to Paul's covert, and the two returned to Long Jim. Shif'less Sol and Silent Tom were called in and the leader said:

"I think we've done all we can here. We've created the impression of a great force to hold the ford. We've also made them think it can stretch far enough to watch its wings. Four warriors just fallen prove that. They'll probably send scouts miles up and down the stream to cross, and then hunt us out, but that'll take time, until night at least, and maybe they won't know positively until morning, because scouting in the thickets in the face of an enemy is a dangerous business. So, I propose that we use the advantage we've gained."

"In what way?" asked Paul.

"We'll go now. We don't want 'em to find out how few we are, and we don't want 'em to learn, either, that we're we."

"That is, they must continue to think that we're behind 'em or on their flanks, and that this is another and larger force in their front."

"That's the idea. What say you?"

"I'm for it," said Paul.

"Votin' ez a high private I say too, let's leg it from here," said Long Jim.

"The jedgment o' our leader is so sound that thar ain't nothin' more to say," quoth the shiftless one.

"Let's go," said Silent Tom.

Then the little band, five against a thousand, rifles against cannon, that had victoriously held the ford, stole away with soundless tread through the greenwood. But they did not travel southward long. When darkness came they turned toward the east, and traveling many miles, made camp as they had done once before on a little island in a swamp, which they reached by walking on the dead and fallen trees of many years. There when they sat down under the trees they could not refrain from a few words of triumph and mutual congratulation, because another and most important link in the chain had been forged with brilliant success.

"Although it's dark and it's seven or eight miles away," said Shif'less Sol, "I kin see that Indian army now, a-settin' before the ford, an' wonderin' how it's goin' to git across."

"An' I kin hear that savage army now, movin' up an' down, restless like," said Long Jim. "I kin hear them redcoat officers, an' them renegades, an' them Injun chiefs, grindin' thar upper teeth an' thar lower teeth together so hard with anger that they won't be able to eat in the mornin'."

"And I can see their wrath and chagrin tomorrow, when their scouts tell them no enemy is there," said Paul. "I can tell now how the white leaders and the red leaders will rage, and how they will wonder who the men were that held them."

"And I can read their minds ahead," said Henry. "The five of us will become not a hundred, but two hundred, and every pair of our hands will carry forty rifles."

"We've fooled 'em well," said Silent Tom, tersely.

"And now to sleep," said Henry, "because we must begin again in the morning."

Soon the five slept the deep sleep that comes after success.



CHAPTER XV

THE GREAT CULMINATION

It could almost be said of them, so sensitive were they to sound or even to a noiseless presence, that usually when sleeping they were yet awake, that, like the wild animals living in the same forest, warnings came to them on the wind itself, and that, though the senses were steeped in slumber, the sentinel mind was yet there. But this morning it was not so. They slept, not like forest runners, who breathe danger every hour, both day and night, but like city dwellers, secure against any foe.

It was Silent Tom who awoke first, to find the day advanced, the sun like a gigantic shield of red and gold in the western heavens, and the wind of spring blowing through the green foliage. He shook himself, somewhat like a big, honest dog, and not awakening the others, walked to the edge of their island in the swamp, the firm land not being more than thirty feet across.

But on this oasis the trees grew large and close and no one on the mainland beyond the swamp could have seen human beings there. The swamp was chiefly the result of a low region flooded by heavy spring rains, and in the summer would probably be as dry and firm as the oasis itself. But, for the present, it was what the pioneers called "drowned lands" and was an effective barrier against any ordinary march.

Silent Tom looked toward the north, and saw a coil of smoke against the brilliant blue of the sky. It was very far away, but he was quite sure that it came from the Indian camp, and its location indicated that they had not yet crossed the river. He felt intense satisfaction, but he did not even chuckle in his throat, after the border fashion. He had not been named Silent Tom for nothing. He was the oldest of the five, several years older than Long Jim, who was next in point of age, and he was often called Old Tom Ross, although in reality the "old" in that case was like the "old" that one college boy uses when he calls another "old fellow."

But if Silent Tom did not talk much he thought and felt a very great deal. The love of the wilderness was keen in him. Elsewhere he would have been like a lion in an iron-barred cage. And, like the rest of the five, he would have sacrificed his life to protect those little settlements of his own kind to the south. It has been said that usually when the five slept they were yet almost awake, but this morning when Silent Tom was awake he was also dreaming. He was dreaming of the great triumph that they had won on the preceding day: Five against a thousand! Rifles against cannon! A triumph not alone of valor but of intellect, of wiles and stratagems, of tactics and management!

He did not possess, in the same great degree, the gift of imagination which illuminated so nobly the minds and souls of Henry and Paul and the shiftless one, but he felt deeply, nevertheless. Matter-of-fact and practical, he recognized, that they had won an extraordinary victory, to attempt which would not even have entered his own mind, and knowing it, he not only gave all credit to those who had conceived it, but admired them yet the more. He was beginning to realize now that the impossible was nearly always the possible.

Life looked very good to Tom Ross that day. It was bright, keen and full of zest. A deeply religious man, in his way, he felt that the forest, the river, and all the unseen spirits of earth and air had worked for them. The birds singing so joyously among the boughs sang not alone for themselves, but also for his four comrades who slept and for him also.

He listened awhile, crossed the swamp on the fallen trees, scouted a little and then came back, quite sure that no warrior was within miles of them, as they were marching in another direction, and then returned to the oasis. The four still slept the sleep of the just and victorious. Then Tom, the cunning, smiled to himself, and came very near to uttering a deep-throated chuckle.

Opening his little knapsack, he took out a cord of fishing line, with a hook, which, with wisdom, he always carried. He tied the line on the end of a stick, and, then going eastward from the oasis, he walked across the fallen or drifted trees until he came to the permanent channel of a creek, into which the flood waters drained. There he dropped his hook, having previously procured bait, worms found under a stone.

Doubtless no hook had ever been sunk in those waters before, and the fish leaped to the bait. In fifteen minutes he had half a dozen fine fellows, which he deftly cleaned with his hunting knife. Then he returned, soft-footed, to the island. The four, as he wished, still slept. After all, he did have imagination and, a feeling for surprise, and the dramatic. Had his comrades awakened then, before his preparations were complete, it would have spoiled his pleasure.

It was a short task for one such as he to use flint and steel, and kindle a fire on the low side of the island, facing toward the east, but yet within the circle of the trees. Dead wood was lying everywhere and it burned rapidly. Then, quickly broiling the fish on sharpened ends of twigs and laying them on green leaves, he went back and awakened the four, who opened their eyes and sat up at the same time.

"What's the smell that's ticklin' my nose?" exclaimed Long Jim.

"Fish," replied Silent Tom gruffly. "Breakfast's ready! Come on!"

The four leaped to their feet, and followed the pleasant odor which grew stronger and more savory as they advanced.

"Ain't cooked like you kin do it," said Silent Tom to Long Jim, "but I done my best."

"Kings could do no more," said the shiftless one, "an' this is the finest surprise I've had in a 'coon's age. I wuz gettin' mighty tired o' cold vittles. A lazy man like me needs somethin' hot now an' then to stir him up, don't he Jim?"

"Guess he does, an' so do I," said Long Jim, reaching hungrily for a fish.

All fell to. The fish were of the finest flavor, and they had been cooked well. Silent Tom said nothing, but he glowed with satisfaction.

"How'd you do it, Tom?" asked Shif'less Sol.

"Line, hook, bait, water, fish," replied Ross, waving his hand in the direction of the creek.

"Ain't he the pow'ful talker?" laughed the shiftless one. "When Tom dies an' goes up to heaven to take his place in them gran' an' eternal huntin' groun's that we've already talked about, the Angel at the gate will ask him his name. 'Tom Ross,' he'll say. 'Business on earth?' 'Hunter an' scout,' 'Ever betrayed a friend?' 'Never,' 'Then pass right in,' That's all old Tom will say, not a word wasted in explanations an' pologies."

"It'll be shorter than that," said Long Jim.

"How's that?"

"The Angel will ask him jest one question. He'll say, 'Who's your best friend on earth?' an' Tom will answer 'Long Jim Hart, what's comin' on later,' an' the Angel will say: 'That's enough. Go right in and pick out the best place in Heaven fur yourself an' your friends who will be here, some day.'"

Silent Tom blushed under the praise which was thoroughly sincere, and begged them, severally, to take another fish. But they had enough, and prepared to travel again, to forge another link in the chain which they were striving so hard to complete.

"What's the plan, Henry?" asked the shiftless one in his capacity as lieutenant.

"I think we ought to complete that circle around the Indian army, curving to the west and then to the north, until we're in their rear. Then we can complete the impression that two forces are attacking 'em, one in front and the other behind. What do you think?"

"I'm hot fur roundin' out the circle," replied Shif'less Sol. "I always like to see things finished, an' I want to make the warriors think a couple o' hundred white riflemen march where only five really make tracks."

"Same here," said Jim Hart, "Suits me 'cause I've got long legs, made out uv steel wire, close wrapped. I see clear that we've got to do a power o' marchin', more of it than fightin'."

"I don't believe any one can think of a better plan," said Paul, "and yours, Henry, certainly promises well."

"I'm for it," said Silent Tom.

"Then we go now," said Henry.

The smoke that Tom had seen earlier was gone, and the five believed that the Indian army, discovering the absence of their foe, had probably crossed the river.

"Since they're on the march again," said Henry, "we can take it slowly and need not exhaust ourselves."

"Jest dawdle along," said Shif'less Sol, "an' let 'em pass us.

"Yes, that's it."

"We'll keep far enough away to avoid their scouts and hunters," said Paul.

It was really the hunters against whom they had to keep the most watchful guard, as so numerous a force ate tremendous quantities of game, and, the men seeking it had to spread out to a considerable distance on either flank. But if the hunters came, the five were sure that they would see them first, and they felt little apprehension.

They passed out of the swampy country, and entered the usual rolling region of low hills, clothed in heavy forest, and abounding in game. Here they stopped a while in their task of completing the circle, and waited while the Indian army marched. Henry calculated that it could not go more than a dozen miles a day, since the way had to be cut for the cannon, and even if they remained where they were, the Indian army when night came, would be very little farther south than the five.

"I vote we turn our short stop into a long one," said Shif'less Sol, "since, ef we went on we'd jest have to come back again. An' me bein' a lazy man I'm ag'in any useless work. What do you say, Saplin'?"

"I'm with you, Sol, not 'cause I'm lazy, which I ain't, an' never will be, but cause it ain't wuth while to go back on our tracks an' then come forward ag'in. What I do say is this; since Tom Ross is such a good fisher I reckon he might take his hook an' line an' go east to the creek, which can't be fur from here, an' ketch some more fish jest ez good ez them we had this mornin'. After dark I'll cook 'em, takin' the trouble off his hands."

All fell in with the suggestion, including Tom himself, and after a while he went away on the errand, returning in due time with plenty of fish as good as the others. This time Long Jim cooked them when night came, in a low place behind the trees, and once more they had warm and delicate food.

When the moon rose in a clear sky, they were able to trace the smoke of the Indian campfire, almost due west of them, as they calculated it would be, and a long distance away. Henry regarded it thoughtfully and Paul knew that his mind was concentrated upon some plan.

"What is it?" he asked at last.

"I think some of us ought to go late tonight and see what chance we have at the guns."

"You'll take me with you, Henry?"

"No, Paul. It'll have to be Shif'less Sol, while the rest of you stand by as a reserve. What call shall we use, the owl or the wolf?"

"Let it be the wolf," said the shiftless one, "'cause I feel like a wolf tonight, ready to snap at an' bite them that's tryin' to hurt our people."

"Sol gits mighty ferocious when thar ain't anythin' more terrible than a rabbit close by," said Long Jim.

"It ain't that. It's my knowin' that you'll run to my help ef I git into trouble," said Shif'less Sol.

Paul felt a little disappointment, but it disappeared quickly. He knew that Shif'less Sol was the one who ought to go, and in the high tasks they had set for themselves there were enough dangers for all.

"Then it will be the cry of the wolf," said Henry. "To most people their yelps are alike, but not to us. You won't forget the particular kind of howl that Sol and I give forth?"

"Never," said Long Jim. "Thar ain't another sech wolf in the woods ez Shif'less Sol."

A few more brief words and Henry and his comrade were gone, traveling at a swift rate toward the Indian camp. Dark and the forest separated the two from the three, but they could send their signal cries at any time across the intervening space, and communication was not interrupted. They advanced in silence several miles, and then they became very cautious, because they knew that they were within the fringe of scouts and hunters. With so many to feed it was likely that the Indians would hunt by night, especially as the wild turkeys were numerous, and it was easy to obtain them in the dark.

Both Henry and Shif'less Sol saw turkey signs, and their caution increased, when they noticed a dozen dusky figures of large birds on boughs near by, sure proof that the warriors would soon be somewhere in the neighborhood, if they were not so already. They began to stoop now, and use cover all the way, and presently Henry felt that their precautions were well taken, as a faint but distant sound, not native to the forest, came to his ear.

"There, Sol!" he whispered. "Did you hear it? To the right."

The shiftless one listened a moment or two and replied:

"Yes, I kin make it out."

"I say it's the twang of a bowstring, Sol."

"So do I, Henry."

"They're probably shooting the turkeys out of the trees with arrows. Saves noise and their powder and lead, too."

"Wherein the Injun shows a heap o' sense, Henry."

"I can hear more than one bow twanging now, Sol. The turkeys must be plentiful hereabouts, but even with bows and arrows only used against 'em they're bound to take alarm soon."

"Yes, thar go some o' 'em gobblin' now, an' they're flyin' this way."

They heard the whirr of wings carrying heavy bodies, and frightened turkeys flew directly over their heads. As the Indians might come in pursuit, Henry and Shif'less Sol lay down among the bushes. A shouting broke out near them, and the forest, for a wide space, was filled with the whirring of wings.

"The biggest flock o' wild turkeys that ever wuz must hev roosted right 'roun' us," said Shif'less Sol, "'cause I seem to see 'em by the dozens."

"More likely fifteen or twenty flocks were scattered about through the woods, and now they have all joined in a common flight."

"Mebbe so, but whether one flock or twenty j'ined, this is suttinly Turkeyland. An' did you ever see sech fine turkeys. Look at that king gobbler, Henry, flyin' right over our heads! He must weigh fifty pounds ef he weighs an ounce, an' his wattles are a wonder to look at. An' I kin see him lookin' right down at me, ez he passes an' I kin hear him sayin': 'I ain't afeared o' you, Sol Hyde, even ef you hev got a gun in your hand. I kin fly low over your head, so low that I'll brush you with my wings, and with my red wattles, which are a wonder to see, an' you dassn't fire. I've got you where I want you, Sol Hyde. I ain't afeard o' anything but Injuns tonight.'"

Shif'less Sol's words were so lugubrious that Henry was compelled to laugh under his breath. It did look like an injustice of fate, when hunters so keen as they, were compelled to lie quiet, while wild turkeys in hundreds flew over their heads, and although the shiftless one may have exaggerated a little about the king gobbler, Henry saw that many of them were magnificent specimens of their kind. Yet to lie and stir not was the price of life, as they soon saw.

Indians came running through the great grove, discharging arrows at the turkeys, many of which flew low, and the air was filled with the twanging of bow strings. Not a rifle or musket was fired, the warriors seeming to rely wholly upon their ancient weapons for this night hunt. They appeared to be in high good humor, too, as the two crouching scouts heard them laughing and chattering as they picked up the fallen birds, and then sent arrows in search of more.

Shif'less Sol became more and more uneasy. Here was a grand hunt going well forward and he not a part of it. Instead he had to crouch among bushes and flatten himself against the soil like an earthworm, while the twanging of the bows made music, and the eager shouts stirred every vein.

The hunt swept off to the westward. The dusky figures of warriors and turkeys disappeared in the brush, and Henry and Shif'less Sol, ceasing to be earthworms, rose to their knees.

"They didn't see us," said the shiftless one, "but it was hard to stay hid."

"But here we are alive and safe. Now, I think, Sol, we'd better go on straight toward their camp, but keep a lookout at the same time for those fellows, when they come back."

They could not hear the twang of bowstrings now, but the shouts still came to them, though much softened by the distance. Presently they too died away, and with silence returning to the forest Henry and Shif'less Sol stood upright. They listened only a moment or two, and then advanced directly toward the camp. Crossing the brook they went around a cluster of thorn bushes, and came face to face with two men. Shif'less Sol, quick as a panther, swung his clubbed rifle like lightning and the foremost of the two, a Shawnee warrior, dropped like a log, and Henry, too close for action, seized the other by the throat in his powerful hands.

It was not a great and brawny throat into which those fingers of steel settled, and its owner began to gasp quickly. Then Henry noticed that he held in his grasp not an Indian, but a white man, or rather a boy, a fair English boy, a youthful and open face upon which the forest had not yet set its tan.

He released his grasp slowly. He could not bear the pain and terror in the eyes of the slender English youth, who, though he wore the uniform of a subaltern, seemed so much out of place there in the deep woods. Yet the forester meant to take no needless risk.

"Promise that you will not cry out and I spare you," he said, his blue eyes looking straight into those of the lad, which returned his gaze with defiance. The steel grasp settled down again.

"Better promise," said Henry. "It's your only chance."

The obstinate look passed out of his eyes, and the lad nodded, as he could not speak. Then Henry took away his hand and said:

"Remember your word."

The English youth nodded again, gurgled two or three times, and rubbed his throat:

"'Twas a mighty grip you had upon me. Who are you?"

"The owners of this forest, and we've jest been tellin' you that you've no business here on our grounds," said the shiftless one.

The boy—he was nothing more—stared at them in astonishment. It was obvious to the two forest runners that he had little acquaintance with the woods. His eyes filled with wonder as he gazed upon the two fierce faces, and the two powerful figures, arrayed in buckskin.

"Your forest?" he said.

"Yes," replied Henry quietly, "and bear in mind that I held your life in my hands. Had you been an Indian you would be dead now."

"I won't forget it," said the youth, who seemed honest enough, "and I'm not going to cry out and bring the warriors down upon you for two very good reasons—because I've promised not to do so, and if I did, I know that your comrade there would shoot me down the next instant."

"I shorely would," said Shif'less Sol, grimly.

"And now," said Henry, "what is your name and what are you doing here?"

"My name is Roderick Cawthorne, I'm a subaltern in the British army, and I came over to help put down the rebels, in accordance with my duty to my king and country. All this land is under our rule."

"Do you think so?" asked Henry. "Do you think that this wilderness, which extends a thousand miles in every direction, is under your rule?"

The young subaltern looked around at the dark forest and shivered a little.

"Technically, yes," he replied, "but it's a long way from Eton."

"What's Eton?"

"Eton is a school in England, a school for the sons of gentlemen."

"I see. And would I be considered the son of a gentleman?"

Young Cawthorne looked up at the tanned and powerful face bent over him. He had already noted Henry's good English, and, feeling the compelling gaze of one who was born to be a master, he replied, sincerely and cheerfully:

"Yes, the son of a gentleman, and a gentleman yourself."

"An' I'm a gentleman too," said Shif'less Sol. "My good rifle says so every time."

"It was the power of earlier weapons that started the line of gentlemen," said Cawthorne. "Now what do you two gentlemen propose to do with me?"

"Do you know what would be done with us if things were changed about?" asked Henry, "and we were the prisoners of you and the colonel and the red men with whom you travel?"

"No. What would it be?"

"You'd have the pleasure of standing by and seeing the two of us burned alive at the stake. We wouldn't be burned quickly. It can be protracted for hours, and it's often done to our people by your allies."

The young Englishman paled.

"Surely it can't be so!" he said.

"But surely it is so!" said the young forester fiercely.

"I'm at your mercy."

"We ain't goin' to burn you now," said Shif'less Sol. "We can't afford to set up a big torch in the forest, with our enemies so near."

Cawthorne shivered.

"Do you still feel," asked Henry, "that you're the ruler over the wilderness here, five thousand miles from London?"

"Technically only. At the present time I'm making no boasts."

"Now, you go back to your colonel and the renegades and the red chiefs and tell them they'll find no thoroughfare to the white settlements."

"So, you don't mean to kill me?"

"No, we don't do that sort of thing. Since we can't hold you a prisoner now, we release you. It's likely that you don't know your way to your own camp, but your red comrade here will guide you. My friend didn't break his skull, when he struck him with the butt of his rifle, though it was a shrewd blow. He's coming to."

Cawthorne looked down at the reviving savage, and then looked up to thank the foresters, but they were gone. They had vanished so quickly and silently that he had not heard them going. Had it not been for the savage who was now sitting up he would not have believed that it was real.

Henry and the shiftless one had dropped down in the bushes only a little distance away, and, by the moonlight, they saw the look of bewilderment on the face of the young Englishman.

"It don't hardly look fair to our people that we should let him go," said the shiftless one.

"But we had to," Henry whispered back. "It was either kill him or let him go, and neither you nor I, Sol, could kill him. You know that."

"Yes, I know it."

"Now, the warrior has all his senses back, though his head is likely to ache for a couple of days. We don't lose anything by letting them have their lives, Sol. The talk of their encounter with us will grow mightily as they go back to the Indian army. The warrior scarcely caught a glimpse of us, and he's likely to say that he was struck down by an evil spirit. Cawthorne's account of his talk with us will not weaken him in his belief. Instead it will make him sure that we're demons who spared them in order that they might carry a warning to their comrades."

"I see it, Henry. It's boun' to be the way you say it is, an' our luck is still workin' fur us."

They saw the English lad and the warrior turn back toward the camp, and then they rose, going away swiftly at a right angle from their original course. After pursuing it a while, they curved in again toward the camp.

In a half-hour they saw the distant flare of lights, and knew that they were close to the Indian army. They were able by stalking, carried on with infinite pains and skill, to approach so near that they could see into the open, where the fires were burning, but not near enough to achieve anything of use.

Alloway, Cartwright, the renegades and the chiefs stood together, and Cawthorne, and the warrior who had been with him, stood before them. Evidently they had just got back, and were telling their tale. Both of the foresters laughed inwardly. Their achievement gave them much pleasure, and they felt that they were making progress toward forging the new link in the chain.

"Can you see the cannon?" whispered Shif'less Sol.

"Over there at the far edge. The ammunition wagons carrying the powder and the balls and the grapeshot are drawn up between them. But we can't get at 'em, Sol. Not now, at least."

"No, but see, Henry, a lot of them warriors are beginnin' to dance, an' thar are two medicine men among 'em. They've overheard the news o' what we've done, an' they're gittin' excited. They're shore now the evil sperrits are all 'roun' 'em."

"Looks like it, Sol, and those medicine men are not afraid of Alloway, the renegades, the chiefs or anybody else. They're encouraging the dancing."

Henry and the shiftless one saw the medicine men through the glow of the lofty flames, and they looked strange and sinister to the last degree. One was wrapped in a buffalo hide with the head and horns over his own head, the other was made up as a bear. The glare through which they were seen, magnified them to twice or thrice their size, and gave them a tint of blood. They looked like two monsters walking back and forth before the warriors.

"The seed we planted is shorely growin' up good an' strong," whispered Shif'less Sol.

More and more warriors joined in the chant of the medicine men. The two saw Alloway gesture furiously toward them, and then they saw Yellow Panther and Red Eagle shake their heads. The two interpreted the movements easily. Alloway wanted the chiefs to stop the chanting which had in it the double note of awe and fear, and Yellow Panther and Red Eagle disclaimed any power to do so.

Again the foresters laughed inwardly, as the monstrous and misshapen figures of the two medicine men careered back and forth in the flaming light. They knew that at this moment their power over the warriors was supreme. The more Alloway raged the more he weakened his own influence.

"An' now they're dancin' with all their might," whispered the shiftless one. "Look how they bound an' twist an' jump! Henry, you an' me have seed some wild sights together, but this caps 'em."

It was in truth a most extraordinary scene, this wild dance of the hundreds in the depths of the primeval forest. Around and around they went, led by the two medicine men, the bear and the buffalo, and the hideous, monotonous chant swelled through all the forest. It did not now contain the ring of triumph and anticipation. Instead it was filled with grief for the fallen, fear of the evil spirits that filled the air, and of Manitou who had turned his face away from them.

Alloway and the white men who were left, drew to one side. Henry could imagine the rage of the colonel at his helplessness, and he could imagine too that he must feel a thrill of awe at the wild scene passing before him. The time and the circumstances must work upon the feelings of a white man, no matter how stout his heart.