The Keepers of the Trail: A Story of the Great Woods

"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: