On the Kentucky Frontier: A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West

Kenton pulled around the next bend, hugging the eastern shore closely, and when we were come to a small creek he forced the canoe up the tiny water course until it was completely hidden by the foliage.

"We might have gone on without fear," I said in a whisper, surprised by this manœuver, "We were traveling faster than the savages could walk, and might easily have outstripped them."

"Which is exactly what we don't count on doin'," he said quietly, speaking in an ordinary tone, and thus showing he had no thought of danger while we remained on this side the river.

"Why not?" Paul asked mildly.

"Because it's our business to know how many of the reptiles are on yonder bank."

"But how will you find out?"

"Go back there, an' have a look at 'em. In less than an hour we can do the trick in fine style."

Paul and I looked at each other in mingled fear and amazement while one might have counted ten, and then I turned my eyes away, understanding by this time that to gather such information was the only reason why we had come down the river ahead of the volunteers.

Kenton sat like a statue in the center of the canoe, we lads being at either end, and it seemed to me as if a full hour passed before a word was spoken.

Then the night was so near upon us that, save directly in the middle of the river, it was impossible to distinguish objects twenty paces distant.

"I reckon we may as well get to work," and Kenton cautiously forced the canoe out from amid the tangle of foliage until the current carried her down stream.

He did not use the paddle save to keep her from running afoul of dry brush or logs on the bank, and we had drifted two miles, perhaps, when he suddenly bent to his work, sending the light craft across the river at a speed I had never before seen equaled, even by my father.

I fully expected to hear the report of a rifle, or feel the sting of a bullet when we were in the middle of the stream where a sharp-eyed savage might see us; but nothing occurred to check our progress, and in a marvelously short space of time we were once more screened from view; but now on the same side of the river where we knew the painted snakes lurked.

"You are to stay in the dugout," Simon Kenton whispered to me as he raised his rifle. "If it so chances that I'm not back here by sunrise, you must work your way up stream to warn Major Clarke."

Had he given me the opportunity I should have urged that he take us with him, or wait till near morning before undertaking so dangerous a venture; but the words had no more than been spoken when he was gone.

At one instant he was speaking with me, and at the next he had vanished as completely and silently as if the waters had covered him. No Indian who ever lived could have equaled him in swiftness and noiselessness.

Paul was mystified when he turned and failed to see Kenton, and I felt forced to explain in whispers what had happened, else I believe of a verity the lad would have cried out in his bewilderment.

It is not possible for those who have always lived in large settlements or towns to realize the desolateness of such a position as was ours while we waited for the return of the scout.

He had ventured into the forest where we knew to a certainty were bloodthirsty enemies, and that he realized all the possibilities had been shown by the order for us to work our way up-stream to warn the on-coming boats, in case he failed to return by sunrise.

My heart was almost in my mouth as I sat there holding Paul's hand, starting at the lightest sound, and hearing even in the rippling of the water some token of the savages. My tongue was parched; I could not have uttered a single word had it been necessary to speak, and only with the greatest difficulty did I prevent my hand from trembling, thus exposing to my companion that I was wofully afraid.

When perhaps an hour had passed it seemed to me as if we had been there a full night, and then came that sound which I had at the same time been expecting and fearing to hear.

From the distance, half a mile away, I guessed, came the crack of a rifle; then another and another, and after that the same deathly silence as before.

"Think you any harm has come to him?" Paul whispered tremulously, and I replied as I believed truly:

"Not unless he met with an accident before that first shot was fired. If there had been a large number of savages nearabout, he would have used every effort to return without loss of time, that we might go to warn the volunteers. There may have been only a few, with, perhaps, a captive, and he has attempted a rescue."

I was heartened by my own words, which sounded plausible, and remained on the alert ten minutes or more, expecting each instant to see Kenton appear as silently as he had vanished.

When that length of time had elapsed, however, and he yet remained absent, fear crept over me, and I imagined the worst.

After half an hour went by, and I kept note of time by counting, there was no longer any hope in my heart.

After firing a shot Kenton would, had he been able, come back to us at once; for even though he had not learned all which seemed necessary, he must have understood that he would no longer be able to spy upon the foe.

I tried to decide what should be done; but my brain was in a whirl. I could hardly have defended myself if one of the painted brutes had shown himself close at hand.

It was Paul who aroused me from what was little less than the stupefaction of despair, by whispering in my ear:

"He did not say that we should go up the river until sunrise. Why may it not be possible for us to help him?"

I shook my head, believing it was too late for us to effect anything in his behalf; but the suggestion, coming from a lad who was ignorant of all this wretched business, awakened me to a realization of my own folly.

"I am the one to go," I said decidedly "You shall stay here, in case he comes back."

"By so doing I could be of no assistance. We will go together."

Even now I fail to understand why my wits had so completely deserted me. I had no thought of what might be the result if we two made off into the forest in the darkness; but before we met Simon Kenton again I realized my folly most keenly.

Without trying to persuade him to remain, as I should have done even in my foolishness, I whispered:

"You must move softly and keep close behind me, lest we be separated in the thicket where it might mean death to cry out. Follow my every motion, for I shall take the lead."

He grasped his rifle in a manner which told he at least was no coward, and clutched my hunting shirt to make certain of obeying the command I had given.

I stepped over the side of the canoe into the water; but not as silently as Simon Kenton had done, and we two waded ashore with no heed as to where this rash move was likely to lead us.

Ashamed though I am to confess it, I took no heed as to the location of the boat we were leaving – made no attempt to seek out what would serve as a guide when we returned, if in deed we ever did; but had only in mind the idea of proceeding up-stream toward where the reports of the weapons had come from.

And into the blackness of the forest we plunged, I claiming to be better versed, in woodcraft than my companion, yet doing that which the most ignorant townsman would never have dreamed of attempting.

It was the act of a fool, and I was to receive the punishment due my folly.

CHAPTER VI.

ASTRAY

It seemed to me that the noise of the firearms had come from a point about half a mile from the shore, and less than a third of this distance up-stream, therefore I bent my way in that direction, heeding nothing save the terrible fear that Simon Kenton had been taken prisoner, or killed outright.

Could I have learned that he was dead my heart might have been somewhat lighter, for I knew full well how terrible would be the torture inflicted upon him once the savages understood who he was.

In such case, Paul and I were bound to carry the sad news back to the volunteers without delay; but while there was a chance of our being able to give him succor, I held that it was our duty to make every effort in such direction.

When I was older grown, and had seen more of warfare, I came to understand that the life of one man counts for but little when compared with the general good, and had such fact been impressed upon my mind at this time, I would never have set out on the foolhardy errand which bid fair to lead Paul Sampson and me to our death.

The lad whom Simon Kenton and I had saved from the stake was an apt pupil, as he showed on this night when he followed close in my footsteps, betraying no signs of fear when he might well have been excused for betraying timorousness, and moving with the utmost caution.

It is not for me to say that we advanced as silently as the young scout could have done; but I was satisfied that we were not moving in a clumsy fashion, and began to feel a certain pride in thus showing Paul how we of the frontier followed on the trail of our enemies.