Part 8 (2/2)
Mighty few double barrels out here. Huh! I 'low somethin' cur'ous is goin'
to happen.”
I could discern nothing to warrant this prophecy. No Indians were to be seen. Cousin called my attention to the sound of their tomahawks. I had heard it before he spoke, but I had been so intent in using my eyes that I had forgotten to interpret what my ears were trying to tell me. There was nothing to do but wait.
Cousin discovered the horse had drunk what water there had happened to be in the bucket, leaving us scarcely a drop. Half an hour of waiting seemed half a day; then something began emerging from the woods. It resolved itself into a barrier of green boughs, measuring some fifteen feet in length and ten feet in height.
Its approach was slow. The noise of the axes was explained. The Indians had chopped saplings and had made a frame and filled it with boughs.
Behind it was a number of warriors. About half-way across the clearing were half a dozen long logs scattered about.
”They're thinkin' to make them logs an' while hid by their boughs yank 'em together to make a breastwork. Then they'll pepper us while 'nother party rushes in close. New party will pelt us while the first makes a run to git ag'in' the walls where we can't damage 'em from the loopholes. That Black Hoof is a devil for thinkin' up tricks.”
I fired at the green ma.s.s. Cousin rebuked me, saying:
”Don't waste lead. There's three braves with long poles to keep the contraption from fallin' backward. They're on their feet, but keepin' low as possible. There's t'others pus.h.i.+n' the bottom along. There's t'others huggin' the ground. You'll notice the ends an' middle o' the top stick up right pert, but between the middle an' each end the boughs sort o' sag down. If the middle pole can be put out o' business I 'low the weight of it will make it cave in. Loaded? Then don't shoot less you see somethin'.”
With this warning he fired at the middle of the screen, and the middle support developed a weakness, indicating he had wounded the poleman. He fired again, and the whole affair began to collapse, and a dozen warriors were uncovered. These raced for the woods, two of them dragging a wounded or dead man.
For a few seconds I was incapable of moving a muscle. I was much like a boy trying to shoot his first buck. Or perhaps it was the very abundance of targets that made me behave so foolishly. Cousin screamed in rage. My bonds snapped, and I fired. If I scored a hit it was only to wound, for none of the fleeing foe lessened their speed. ”Awful poor fiddlin'!”
groaned Cousin, eying me malevolently.
”I don't know what was the matter with me. Something seemed to hold me paralyzed. Couldn't move a finger until you yelled.”
”Better luck next time,” he growled, his resentment pa.s.sing away.
He loaded and stood his rifle against the logs and began spying from the rear of the cabin. Whenever he glanced at the ap.r.o.n his eyes would close for a moment. No women had lived there. One of the Grisdols, the father of the two children, had brought it as a reminder of his dead wife. Cousin's great fight was not against the red besiegers, but against his emotions. I knew he was thinking of his sister.
”Come here!” I sharply called. ”They want a pow-wow. One's waving a green bough.”
Cousin climbed to the hole in the roof, holding his rifle out of sight by the muzzle. He yelled in Shawnee for the man to advance alone. The warrior strode forward, the token of peace held high. So far as I could see he did not have even a knife in his belt. Overhead Cousin's rifle cracked and the Indian went down with never a kick.
”Good G.o.d! You've fired on a flag of truce, after agreeing to receive it!”
I raged.
He stood beside me, a crooked smile on his set face, his eyes gleaming with triumph, his shapely head tilted to enjoy every note of the horrible anger now welling from the forest. ”You fired----”
”I 'low I did,” he chuckled. Then with awful intentness, ”But the folks who lived here an' was happy didn't fire on the Injun fetchin' 'em a bundle o' peace-talk. They believed the Injuns meant it. Do you reckon I treated that dog any worse than the Shawnees treated my father and mother and little sister ten years ago? If you don't 'low that, just keep shet.
When a Injun sends you a flag o' truce you want to tie your scalp down, or it'll blow off.”
The chorus of howls in the forest suddenly ceased, then were succeeded by sharp yelps of joy. Cousin stared at me in bewilderment. Darting to the back of the cabin, he peered through a c.h.i.n.k. ”Come here,” he softly commanded. I joined him and took his place at the peephole. There was a haze of smoke in the eastern sky.
”That's why Black Hoof an' his men are hangin' round here,” he sighed. ”He sent a small band farther east. They've made a kill. That's a burnin' over there.”
”That would be Edgely's cabin,” I decided. ”But they moved back to Dunlap's Creek three months ago.”
”Thank G.o.d for that!” he exclaimed. ”But we'll have more Injuns round us mighty soon. I wish it was dark.”
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