Part 1 (2/2)

At the question the two pioneer boys stopped abruptly. From within the forest they had heard the sound of a snapping branch. The sound itself had not been loud, but the quiet of that September day in 1773 had been sharply broken by the slight noise from the brush. For a brief time both boys listened intently and then one of them went back a short distance along the trail over which the little procession had advanced, carefully looking for signs of danger on either side.

And there was need for caution. Under the leaders.h.i.+p of Daniel Boone five families besides his own had been making their way slowly through the unbroken wilderness from the settlement on the Yadkin in North Carolina. At Powell's Valley, through which they recently had pa.s.sed, forty men had joined the little company, thereby adding greatly to its strength, and increasing the confidence of the hardy settlers.

As the little cavalcade spread out in a long line, an advance guard of five opened the way, while three rear guards, of two each at irregular intervals, were stationed to prevent surprises from the hostile Indians or attacks by the prowling beasts of prey that were wont to follow the trail of men in the wilderness.

At this time the band was crossing Powell's Mountain, and the extreme rear guard was made up of James, the oldest son of Daniel Boone, and his friend, Peleg Barnes, the latter being one of the number that had been added to the company when the settlers arrived at Powell's Valley.

Persuaded that no enemy was near, the two boys resumed their positions and proceeded on their way.

Each boy was dressed in a hunting costume and wore leggings and fringed trousers made from the skin of the deer. Each also was armed with a rifle which he carried almost as naturally as if it was a part of himself. Powder-horns and bullet-pouches were swinging from their shoulders. It was manifest from the att.i.tude and the manner of both young hunters that they were familiar with the ways of the wilderness and were alert to detect signs of the presence of friend or foe.

”I don't like that noise,” suggested Peleg in a low voice. ”'Tis the second time we have heard it since we have been the rear guard to-day.”

His companion smiled and did not reply, and for a time Peleg also remained silent. He was a restless, dark-haired, muscular, and well-grown boy, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years of age, which also was the age of his more quiet comrade. The boys were warm friends, but like many men of the earlier days, they were p.r.o.ne to silence, though little that occurred in the nearby forest escaped their attention.

The wilderness through which they were advancing was almost untrodden.

Confidence and hope were expressed on the rugged faces of the boys, however, for they early had learned to live in the presence of continual danger from the prowling beasts and the hostile red men.

”I never knew a man just like your father,” suggested Peleg, at last breaking the silence.

”Neither did I,” replied James Boone, with a smile that strongly lighted up his face, as he turned to his friend.

”He never seems to think about himself. He is taking this expedition to the land he has found because he believes it to be for our advantage for him to do so.”

”He knows it is.”

”I heard him tell about the wonderful sky and soil he had found there; and it must be worth while to go, else he would not be advising us to leave the Yadkin and cross all these mountains into the wilderness. I never saw such a strong man as your father is. I don't believe he has an ounce of fat on his body. Is it true that he is having a record kept of the places he has found and the journeys he has made?”

”It is.”

”I should like much to see it. I can read writing, and if some time you will ask him to grant me the privilege I shall want to read what he has had written----”

Peleg stopped abruptly and grasped his companion's arm, as both boys were startled once more by the sudden snapping of a branch apparently only a few yards to the left. Instantly both were listening breathlessly, and were holding their rifles in readiness, while they peered anxiously into the brush from which the threatening sound had come.

”I declare to you,” whispered Peleg, ”that there is some one following us.”

”Verily,” whispered James Boone, although he did not turn away his eyes from the forest as he spoke.

The alarm of the two young guards was not unnatural, as has been said.

On the lower slopes of the mountain great trees were growing, but as the band of emigrants had steadily climbed, the timber diminished, and even underbrush had become somewhat thinned. Still, on every side of the trail there were sufficient bushes to hide the presence of an enemy that might be following the pioneers. Both boys knew that game of many kinds abounded in the wilderness. Many a time their skill had been tested long before they had left their homes on the Yadkin.

That their perils would be increased as they withdrew into the region in which the foot of no white men except Daniel Boone and his comrade had ever trod they both were well aware. On this September day the advancing settlers had been moving in a much longer and thinner line than had been adopted the preceding day. The difficulties of the ascent and the frequent great rocks in their way made their progress over the mountain more difficult and different from the easier march through the valley on the opposite side. Only an occasional white man had been seen since they had left their homes, and there was constant fear of the red men, almost all of whom were exceedingly hostile at this time and very jealous in guarding their own domains from the incursions of the whites.

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