Part 17 (2/2)
”Part of a day's work,” he carelessly observed. ”Wal, seeing as the skunk has skedaddled, we might as well push on rather smart and tell the fellers there's a loose red round these parts.”
When we entered the settlement we saw men and women gathered in front of the Davis cabin, frankly curious to see the newcomers and eager to volley them with questions. I joined the group and through a window beheld Patsy in animated conversation with what women could crowd inside. Mrs. Davis was very proud of her cousin's daughter and was preening herself considerably.
Patsy's cheeks were flushed and her tongue was racing as only a woman's can. As she talked I could see she was trying to get used to the table of split slabs and its four round legs set in auger-holes, the pewter tableware and the spoons and bowls fas.h.i.+oned from wood, and the gourds and hard-sh.e.l.l squash hollowed out for noggings.
With a slant of half-veiled eyes she also was studying the women's linsey petticoats and bare feet, for now that it was warm weather many dispensed with any foot-covering. In turn the women were openly examining the texture and style of her town gown, and shrilly calling on one another to come and admire her soft leather boots.
I did not see Dale, and Davis informed me he was inspecting the fort. As Ward was not in sight I a.s.sumed he, too, was at the fort. Making my way to the window, I caught Patsy's eye and handed her her lost moccasin.
She stared at the moccasin in bewilderment, but what with the newness of her experience and the voluble praise of the women and the open-eyed admiration of the men, she was finely excited. She forgot to ask where I found the moccasin or how I happened to be there. She was in the act of giving me a smile and a nod when Mrs. Davis tugged her to the right-about.
Realizing it was useless to strive for the girl's attention until the neighbors returned to their cabins, I walked to the fort, leading my horse. Hughes was there ahead of me and stood with a group of sullen-faced men who were being addressed by Ericus Dale.
”I say there ain't going to be any war,” he cried as I took a position behind him. ”The Indians don't want war. They want trade. Take a pack of goods on your horse and walk into a Shawnee village and see how quick they'll quit the war-post to buy red paint and cloth.
”Open a keg of New England rum among the Mingos and see how quick they'll drop their axes and hunt for tin dippers. Take blankets and beads to the Wyandots and watch them hang up white wampum. Take----”
”Oh, that's all fool talk!” thundered Hughes crowding forward and staring angrily into the trader's deep-set eyes. ”You can't lead a pack-hoss fifty miles from this creek without losing your hair, neighbor.”
”I can! I will!” wrathfully replied Dale. ”I've traded for years with the Indians. I never yet went to them with a gun in my hand. If ever I need protection, they'll protect me. They are my friends. This war is all wrong. You can have it if you insist. But if you'd rather have trade, then you needn't build any more forts west of the Alleghanies.”
Hughes laughed hoa.r.s.ely and called out to the silent settlers:
”What do you fellers say to all this twaddle? Any of you believe it?”
Uncle d.i.c.k, whom I had left whetting his knife on the stones of the Davis fireplace, gave a cackling laugh and answered:
”Believe it? No! But it's fun to hear him splutter.”
The men smiled grimly. They had held back from affronting their neighbor's cousin. They looked upon Dale much as they looked on Baby Kirst when he came to the settlement and whimpered because he could not find ripe berries to pick. They were deciding that Dale was mentally irresponsible; only his malady took a different twist than did Baby's. He was an Indian-lover instead of hater. Dale's dark face flushed purple with anger.
By an effort he controlled himself and said:
”All right. You men want a fight. I'm afraid you'll have it. But I tell you that if Dunmore would call off that dog of a Connolly at Fort Pitt I could go among the Ohio Indians and make a peace which would last.”
”How about the Injuns being willing for us to go down into the Kentucky country?” spoke up Moulton.
”If you want peace with the Indian, you must let him keep a place to hunt and live in. He can't live if you take away his hunting-grounds.”
”Then let's take 'em away so they'll die out tarnation fast,” cried Elijah Runner.
Drawing himself up and speaking with much dignity, Dale said:
”I am sorry for any of you men who came out here to make homes if you will let a few Indian-killers, who never make homes, spoil your chances for getting ahead.”
”We don't go for to kill every Injun we see,” said Davis, heretofore silent. ”I'm a fambly-man. I don't want Injuns butchered here in the settlement like as Ike Crabtree done for Cherokee Billy. No sense in that.”
”That's what I say, too,” agreed another. And this endors.e.m.e.nt of Davis'
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