Part 6 (1/2)
”Why, land sake! To Salem! Why, look here! You'll be seeing my cousin, Ericus Dale!” excitedly exclaimed Mrs. Davis.
My emotion was far greater than that expressed by Mrs. Davis, but the dusk of early evening permitted me to conceal it. It was three years since I had seen the Dales, father and daughter. They were then living in Williamsburg. It was most astonis.h.i.+ng that they should be now living in Salem. But this was going too fast.
It did not follow that Patricia Dale was in Salem because her father was there. In truth, it was difficult to imagine Patsy Dale being content with that little settlement under the eastern eaves of the mountains. Before I could find my tongue Mrs. Davis was informing her neighbors:
”My cousin, Ericus, ain't got many warm spots in his heart for Governor Dunmore. He's sure to be sot ag'in' this war. He's a very powerful man in the colony.” Then to me, ”I want you to see Patsy and tell her not to think of coming out here this summer. She's not to come till the Injuns have been well whipped.”
”Coming out here?” I dully repeated.
”They was opinin' to when I last got word from 'em last March. They was at their home in Williamsburg, and the girl wrote she was going to Salem with her father, who had some trading-business to fix up. 'Spected to be there all summer, and was 'lowing to come out here with her daddy. But seeing how things is going, it won't do. Mebbe Salem even won't be safe for 'em.
It won't put you out any to see her and tell her?”
I trusted to the dusk to conceal my burning cheeks. I had supposed I had secured control of myself during my three years on the border. It would be impossible for any man who had looked into Patsy Dale's dark blue eyes to forget her; and we had been something more than friends. I promised Mrs.
Davis I would do her errand, and hurried from the cabin.
The ride ahead of me suddenly became momentous. I was thrilled with the prospect of seeing Patsy again; and I was afraid the interview would disturb me vastly. To be alone and arrange my jumbled thoughts I helped drive the horses into a small inclosure, well stockaded, and watched the boys coming through the clearing to drive the cattle into their stalls in several hollow sycamores. These natural shelters, once the openings were enlarged and protected with bars, made excellent pens for the domestic animals and fowls. I was still thinking about Patsy Dale and the time when her young life touched mine when the cabin doors were barred and it was time to sleep.
CHAPTER III
OVER THE MOUNTAINS
When I opened my eyes a young man was surveying the clearing through a c.h.i.n.k above the door. This morning vigilance was customary in every cabin along the frontier and revealed the settler's realization of the ever present danger. No wonder those first men grew to hate the dark forest and the cover it afforded the red raiders. A reconnaissance made through a peephole could at the best satisfy one that no stump in the clearing concealed an Indian.
It was with this unsatisfactory guarantee that the settler unbarred his door. He could never be sure that the fringe of the woods was not alive with the enemy. And yet young men fell in love and amorously sought their mates, and were married, and their neighbors made merry, and children were born. And always across the clearing lay the shadow of the tomahawk.
Now that I am older and the blood runs colder, and the frontier is pushed beyond the mountains, I often wonder what our town swains would do if they had to risk their scalps each time a sweetheart was visited!
The man at the door dropped back to the puncheon floor, announcing: ”All clear at my end.”
A companion at the other end of the cabin made a similar report, and the door was opened. Two of the men, with their rifles ready, stepped outside and swiftly swung their gaze along the edge of the forest. The early morning mists obscured the vision somewhat. A bell tinkled just within the undergrowth. Instantly the fellows outside dropped behind stumps, while we inside removed the plugs from loopholes.
”All the cattle is in,” murmured a youth to me, so young his first beard had barely sprouted. ”Injun trick to git us out there.”
Several minutes pa.s.sed, then Davis loudly called from the fort:
”It's all right! Hodge's critter wa'n't fetched in last night.”
Even as he spoke the cow emerged from the bushes.
Smoke began issuing from the cabin chimneys and the women came from the fort to warm up the remains of the pot-pies, to bake corn bread and prepare mush. The men scattered through the clearing. Some chopped down bushes which might mask a foe's stealthy advance, others cleared out logs which might serve as breastworks for the raiders.
Labor did not appeal to the four killers, and their part was done when they slipped into the forest, each taking a different course, and scouted for signs and bagged some game. As my business demanded an early departure I was not expected to partic.i.p.ate in any of these precautions.
I saw that my horse had his feed and water and led him back to the cabin, and gave my weapons their daily overhauling. Mrs. Davis paused in her labors long enough to remind me of her message to Patricia Dale. I rea.s.sured her so earnestly that she turned from her corn-bread baking in a flat pan before the open fire and stared at me rather intently. There was no dodging her keen eyes.
”See here,” she exclaimed; ”you've met Patsy already, I 'low.”
I hesitated between the truth and a lie, and then nodded my head. She brushed a limp strand of hair from her face, and in so doing left a s.m.u.t-streak across her nose, and half-closed her eyes while a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.