The Frontier Angel: A Romance of Kentucky Rangers' Life

"Get him, if you can, Jim, and you will confer a favor that I shall never be able to repay."

"Never mind about that, the thing will be done!"

Shortly after this, Peterson took his departure.

CHAPTER V.

THE MYSTERIOUS WARNING

It was a mild September night in 179-. The day had been one of those warm, hazy ones that sometimes appear at that season of the year, and the night had set in with delicious coolness. There was a faint moon in the heavens, and several flaky clouds were drifting past it, causing their fantastic shadows to glide like phantoms over the settlement, sometimes, for a moment, throwing it into shadow, and then permitting the moonlight again to stream down upon it.

Most of the settlers had withdrawn within their cabins, and as the hour had grown quite late, there were few, if any, stirring through the village. A few pencils of light issued from the upper port-holes of the block-house, showing that those inside were still up; and a hearty laugh, ringing out now and then, told as plainly that they were engaged in their usual habit of story-telling and joking. Peterson was inside relating one of his earlier experiences, which infinitely amused them all, the commander not hesitating to join in the merriment.

On the outside, the slow-measured tread of the sentinel was heard, and his form could be seen against the wall of the block-house, as he walked to and fro upon the platform. His keen eye never failed to take in at every turn, every noticeable object before him. At one end of the projection, he had a view of the river, now glistening in the sheen of the moonlight like liquid silver; and, during the remainder of his walk, his vision rested upon the broad, gloomy, murmuring forest, stretching mile after mile before him, until, at last, it joined the sky away in the faint horizon. It was Dick Dingle, whose watch extended until midnight.

While in the act of turning on his heel, at the end of the platform, he suddenly stopped as something suspicious caught his eye. Far up the Ohio, at such a distance that it would have been invisible to ordinary eyes, he saw a small, dark body in the water. At first, it had the appearance of a large bird swimming over the surface, but the hunter well knew that it was a canoe, approaching from the Ohio side. A slight protuberance near the middle, convinced him that there was but one person in it.

When about three-fourths of the way across, the sparkle of the ashen oars could be seen, as they dipped in the water. A moment after, it entered the line of shadows upon the Kentucky shore and disappeared.

Dingle's suspicion was aroused. The long silence and inactivity of the savages had led him to the belief that they were preparing to strike a great blow upon the settlements. Neither he nor Peterson had been scouting lately, and he had no means of discovering their intentions.

"Leastways, Dick Dingle," he muttered, as he resumed his walk, "it won't do fur you to wink both eyes at the same time. Look out fur sign."

He continued walking with the same measured, deliberate tread backward and forward, apparently watching nothing, and yet maintaining a more than usual scrutiny upon the river and forest. A half-hour passed away, and finally an hour had elapsed, without bringing any new suspicion to him; but he was well aware that this delay was as good reason for apprehension, as could have been the noise of approach.

"You don't cotch Dingle asleep in the night-time, or when there's reds about. It would do to let on that. Now let's see, Dingle, you old fool, what do you s'pose the imps are up to now? Jest go to meditatin' will you and cipher it out. In the first place, and afore anything else, they're up to sunkthin'; and that ar' sunkthin' is the devil. Consequently, it's a pinted fact, that they're up to the devil, and therefore, Dingle, there's sunkthin' in the wind; so mind your eye and look out for squalls. Wish they'd hurry up 'cause it's gettin' well on to that green feller's watch, and I'd like to have an idee given me of their intentions ef they're no partickler objections."

The eccentric ranger continued his walk, occasionally interspersing it with characteristic observations similar to those above; and, all the time, wondering why it was that something else "didn't turn up" to give him an "idee"; but another hour wore away without bringing the desired knowledge to him.

By this time, it was near midnight, and shortly after, a man appeared beside him to relieve him of his watch. This new-comer was known as Jenkins, and was what the rangers termed a "green hand: " that is, he had seen little or nothing of Indian service, and was not one who could be relied upon in an emergency. Several practical jokes had been played upon him, such as getting him into the wood and raising an alarm of Indians, or firing very closely to him from concealment; and the result of these same tricks had given one or two a suspicion that he was somewhat lacking in courage, and would show the white feather if pressed to the wall.

"Careful and not get a snoozin' to-night," remarked Dingle.

"Why? you don't s'pose I would, do you?"

"Didn't know but what you might; thought I'd tell you anyway, 'cause it won't do to shut your eyes to-night."

"Why? what's the matter? What's up, eh?" queried Jenkins eagerly.

"Oh, nothin' in partickler; only I've seen Injins to-night."

"Pshaw! don't say so? You're joking, Dick?"

"Ef you think so, jest think on, but ef you don't see sights afore mornin', it'll be 'cause you can't see: that's all," and Dingle with a warning shake of his head turned to enter the block-house.

"Oh say, Dick, that ain't fair!" said Jenkins, laying his hand on his shoulder.

"What's the matter? Ain't scart, be you?" demanded the ranger, confronting him with an angry countenance.

"Oh! no-no-no, I ain't scart at all – not at all; I only want you to tell a feller all about it. You might do that, I think."

"Wal, see hyer then. I seed four or five Shawnees skulking out yonder near the wood, tryin' to draw bead on me, and I had to do some tall dodging to hender them. You'll have to hop around rather agile, but I guess you can steer clear. Ef you git hit, holler and I'll haul you in and let you die inside."

"Oh, thunder! hold on. Dingle, don't go and leave a feller this way. I don't think it's the fair shake at all."

"What in blazes do you want?" demanded the ranger, again indignantly facing him.

"Why, I was a-going to say – just to kind of make the observation, you know – that – perhaps – I would think – that is – I would like to know if you wouldn't just as lief stay out here a while?"

"What for?"

"Oh, just for company. I'll do the same favor for you some of these times."

"I never want anybody out hyer when I'm standin' watch."

"Won't you stay. Dingle?"

"No."

And the scout turned and entered the block-house. But it was by no means his intention to intrust the safety of the settlement to such hands as Jenkins'; he only wished to test his courage, and create a little diversion for his own individual benefit. He shut the door and listened.

He could hear Jenkins walking along the platform, stamping his feet bravely upon it, and whistling as loudly as his lips would possibly permit him. Dingle ventured to open the door very slightly and peep out at him. He saw him with his hands thrust deep down into his pockets, his rifle leaning against the block-house, and shooting his feet far out in advance, and slapping them down on the planks with such effect as to set the men within growling and snarling at each other, as they half awoke from their slumbers. His hat was jammed down upon the back of his head, his hair dashed away from his forehead, the white of his eyes only being visible, as the pupils were constantly turned toward the dreaded wood. His mouth resembled the letter O, fringed around the edges, as he resolutely maintained its position. "Old Hundred" came out loudly, the fall of each foot being emphasized by a desperate burst of wind and music, and a spasmodic jerk of the head now and then. When the whistle, at times, became more windy than musical, he rested his lips by communings with himself.

"Darn the Injins! I wish they were all dead! I can't see what they want poking round here when I'm standing watch. If I catch sight of one, I'll bet he will wish he never heard of Pete Jenkins! They're mean to be watching us all the time. If I was the Injins, I would keep hunting the deers and bears and I never would come around here when I was standing watch, but I'd shoot that Dingle, because he's so everlastingly mean. Let me see: I was turning 'Old Hundred,' I believe." The tune was now resumed, and continued a short time, when he again broke forth. "If them Injins will only stay away till morning I won't care, though it would be all the same to me, and perhaps just as well if they didn't come then either. I was just thinking – hello! Jerusalem! I seen something move then as sure as the world!"

Dingle, who had been listening all the while, now judged that it was time to venture forth, and, closing the door behind him, stood upon the platform. Jenkins, whose eyes were turned toward the wood, saw nothing of him, until he tumbled over his bent form.

"Thunderation! that you. Dingle? what you doing here?" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet again.

"I thought I'd come out and keep you company a while."

"Good! I am glad of it, for I feel dreadful lonely."

"Seen anything?"

"I thought I did, out yonder near the edge of the wood."

Dingle looked intently toward the point indicated a few moments, and then became satisfied that Jenkins was right – there was a person there. While gazing in this direction, he purposely kept his body concealed by the guard around the platform. He continued his watch upon the suspicious object, and at last satisfied himself of the identity of the person who had thus alarmed his friend.

"All right!" he muttered to himself. "It's the Frontier Angel, and there's no danger of her hurting any one. She's got sunkthin' to tell, and she's waitin' to see ef I'm about. Howsumever, I'll keep shady a while, just to see how this long-legged feller hyer will jump when she gives notice she's around."

"Anything there?" asked Jenkins, for the third or fourth time.

"Yas, there is; don't make too much noise."

"What makes you stoop down, Dick?" he asked, in a whisper.

"I can see better this way."