Part 14 (1/2)

”Alone?” inquired Peleg quickly.

”Yes, alone. I must not take one man away from the party here, and I shall be doubly anxious for you all while I am gone; but the time has come when I may think of my family and myself. In this wonderful land I, too, would make my home.”

”But will you dare to come back with your family with only you and Israel to protect them?”

Boone's face lighted up with the rare smile which occasionally appeared upon it as he said: ”There will be others, many others, I hope, who will join us on our way.”

”I never knew the Indians to be so savage as they are now,” suggested Peleg anxiously.

”That is true,” said Boone, ”and one cannot altogether blame them. They seem to be well-nigh mad in their hatred of us because we have begun to build our homes in the land which they planned to keep as their own. If it were not for their fear of the 'Long Knives,' as they term us, I fancy they would make a desperate a.s.sault very soon. As it is, however, they have a wholesome feeling of fear mingled with their anger, and although you will have to be continually on your guard, I do not believe they will venture to attack the fort while I am gone.”

Peleg made no reply, and the scout, acting as if the last word had been spoken, soon after set forth on his long journey to the Clinch.

During the absence of their leader the men continued their labours, felling the trees and clearing the land, until in the immediate vicinity of the fort sufficient ground had been made tillable to enable them to plant the few seeds which Boone had insisted should be brought with them.

The days now were warm, and the delights of the marvellous climate were appreciated by all the men.

The only event of special interest that occurred during the absence of the scout was the coming of Sam Oliver. As unconcerned as if he had long been a member of the company and had earned his thirty-three cents per day for his labours, the hunter entered the fort one night and composedly received the warm greetings which were given him. It was well known that the newcomer was a famous shot, and the coming of even one man strengthened the little garrison not a little.

The general line of the defence of the fort was at once mapped out by Sam, who without a word a.s.sumed the position of leader. It was he who arranged the details and the nightly guards which were maintained, and it was his word which decided any dispute that arose among the men.

One day Peleg was on guard in the adjacent forest. His watch was almost ended and he was about to return to the fort, when he was startled to behold an Indian approaching with the palms of both hands extended.

Holding Singing Susan in readiness for instant use, and glancing keenly about him into the adjacent forest to make sure that his visitor was unaccompanied, Peleg waited patiently for the stranger to approach.

As the warrior drew near Peleg looked at him with increasing astonishment. Dressed in the Indian garb, the warrior, who seemed to be only about twenty years of age, nevertheless had no features like those of the neighbouring tribes. Tanned, the stranger undoubtedly was, but nevertheless his skin did not have the bronze colouring of the Indian.

His figure and even his walk were more like the white man's. And yet in every other point the stranger apparently was of the Indian race.

As he drew near Peleg, his face was lighted by a smile as he said, ”Me broder. Me white Shawnee.”

Peleg did not respond, although his astonishment was increased by the speech of the approaching warrior.

”Me wan' go home. No fader. Me Shawnee fader. Me wan' white fader.

White moder dead. White fader dead. No Shawnee fader some more.”

The puzzling statements were followed by some words unintelligible to Peleg, though he concluded that they were spoken in the Shawnee tongue.

”Do you want to see Daniel Boone?” he inquired.

Gesticulating forcefully, the young man inquired, ”He me fader?”

”No.”

”White fader dead. White moder dead. Shawnee warriors kill me fader.

Kill moder. Many moons ago.”

”How many?”

A puzzled expression for a moment appeared on the stranger's face, and then, comprehending the meaning of the question, he opened and closed his hands so many times that, although Peleg was unable to count the number of moons indicated, he concluded that the Shawnee was approximately of his own age.