Part 5 (1/2)
”What?”
”Waal, ye seed the way them bees made fer their trees, didn't ye, when they got a load er honey?”
”Yes, that's the way I found their home.”
”But you had the daylight, mind ye! And Dan'l was in pitch black night, but, sir, he made a bee-line through them dark woods straight for his camp he'd left seven days afore. And, man, yer kin bet they made tracks when they got clear o' the Redskins! Hit wuz six hours till day an' when the Injuns waked they didn't know which way ter look----”
Tom paused and the Boy cried eagerly:
”Did they get there?”
”Git whar?” the father asked dreamily.
”Get back to their own camp?”
”Straight ez a bee-line I tell ye. But the camp had been busted and robbed and the other men wuz gone.”
”Gone where?”
Tom shook his s.h.a.ggy head.
”n.o.body never knowed ter this day--reckon the Injuns scalped 'em----”
He paused again and a dreamy look overspread his rugged face.
”Like they scalped your own grandpa that day.”
”Did they scalp my grandpa?” the Boy asked in an awed whisper.
”That they did. Your Uncle Mordecai an' me was workin' with him in the new ground, cleanin' it fur corn when all of a sudden the Injuns riz right up outen the ground. Your grandpa drapped dead the fust shot, an'
Mordecai flew ter the cabin fer the rifle. A big Redskin jumped over a log an' scalped my own daddy before my eyes! He grabbed me an' started pullin' me ter the woods, an' then, Sonny, somethin' happened----”
Tom looked at the long rifle in its buck's horn rest and smiled:
”Old 'Speakeasy' up thar stretched her long neck through a c.h.i.n.k in the logs an' said somethin' ter Mr. Redskin. She didn't raise her voice much louder'n a whisper. She jist kinder sighed:
”_Kerpeow!_”
”I kin hear hit echoin' through them woods yit. That Injun drapped my hands before I heerd the gun, an' she hadn't more'n sung out afore he wuz lyin' in a heap at my feet. The ball had gone clean through him----”
Tom paused again and looked for a long time in silence into the glowing coals. The little cabin was very still. The Boy lifted his face to his mother's curiously:
”Ma, you said G.o.d counted the beat of a sparrow's wing?”
”Yes.”
”Well, what was He doin' when that Indian scalped my grandpa?”
The mother threw a startled look at the bold little questioner and answered reverently: