The Eyes of the Woods: A Story of the Ancient Wilderness. Altsheler Joseph Alexander
Читать онлайн книгу.
hev been a good thing,” said Shif’less Sol, “ef the crack, whatever it may hev been, hed been a lot harder, hard enough to finish him. I ain’t bloodthirsty, but it would help a lot if Braxton Wyatt wuz laid away. Paul, you’re eddicated, an’ you hev done a heap o’ thinkin’, enough, I guess, to last a feller like Long Jim fur a half dozen o’ lives, now what makes a man turn renegade an’ fight with strangers an’ savages ag’inst his own people?”
“I think,” replied Paul, “that it’s disappointment, and fancied grievances. Some people want to be first, and when they can’t win the place they’re apt to say the world is against ’em, in a conspiracy, so to speak, to defraud ’em of what they consider their rights. Then their whole system gets poisoned through and through, and they’re no longer reasoning human beings. I look upon Braxton Wyatt as in a way a madman, one poisoned permanently.”
“I hev noticed them things, too,” said Shif’less Sol. “Thar are diff’unt kinds o’ naturs, the good an’ the bad, an’ the bad can’t bear for other people to lead ’em. Then they jest natchelly hate an’ hate. All through the day they hate, an’ ef they ain’t got nothin’ to do, even ef the weather is fine ’nuff to make an old man laugh, they jest spend that time hatin’. An’ ef they happen to wake up at night, do they lay thar an’ think what a fine world it is an’ what nice people thar are in it? No, sir, they jest spend all the time between naps hatin’, an’ they fall asleep ag’in, with a hate on thar lips an in’ thar hearts.”
“You’re talkin’ re’l po’try an’ truth at the same time, Sol,” said Long Jim. “It’s cur’ous how people hate them that kin do things better than theirselves. Now, I’ve noticed when I’m cookin’ buffler steaks an’ deer meat an’ wild turkey an’ nice, juicy fish, an’ cookin’ mebbe better than anybody else in all Ameriky kin, how you, Shif’less Sol Hyde, turn plum’ green with envy an’ begin makin’ disrespeckful remarks ’bout me, Jim Hart, who hez too lofty an’ noble a natur ever to try to pull you down, poor an’ ornery scrub that you be.”
Shif’less Sol drew himself up with haughty dignity.
“Jim Hart,” he said, “I’m wrapped ’bout with the mantle o’ my own merit so well from head to foot that them invig’ous remarks o’ yours bounce right off me like hail off solid granite. To tell you the truth, Jim Hart, I feel like a big stone mountain, three miles high, with you throwin’ harmless leetle pebbles at me.”
“And yet,” said Paul, “while you two are always pretending to quarrel, each would be eager to risk death for the other if need be.”
“It’s only my sense o’ duty, an’ o’ what you call proportion,” said Shif’less Sol. “Long Jim, ez you know, is six feet an’ a half tall. Ef the Injuns wuz to take him an’ burn him at the stake he’d burn a heap longer than the av’rage man. What a torch Jim would make! Knowin’ that an’ always b’arin’ it in mind, I’m jest boun’ to save Jim from sech a fate. It ain’t Jim speshully that I’m thinkin’ on, but I’d hate to know that a man six an’ a half feet long wuz burnin’ ’long his whole len’th.”
“Another band has joined Wyatt,” said Henry. “See, here comes the trail!”
The new force had arrived from the east, and it contained apparently twenty warriors, raising Braxton Wyatt’s little army to about sixty men.
“But they still run,” said Shif’less Sol. “The new ones hev ketched all the terror an’ superstition that the old ones feel, an’ the whole crowd is off fur the Ohio. Look how the trail widens!”
“And Braxton Wyatt is beginning to feel better,” said Henry. “His own particular trail does not waver so much now. Ah, they’ve stopped here for a council. Braxton probably stood on that old fallen log and addressed them, because the traces of his footsteps lead directly to it. Yes, the bark here is rubbed a little, where he stood. They gathered in a half circle before him, as their footprints show very plainly, and they listened to him respectfully. He, being white, was recovering from the superstitious terror, but the Shawnees were still under its spell. After hearing him they continued their flight. Here goes their trail, all in a bunch, straight toward the north!”
“An’ thar won’t be no stop ’til they strike the Ohio,” said Shif’less Sol with conviction.
“I agree with you,” said Henry.
“And so do all of us,” said Paul.
“And of course we follow on,” said Henry, “right to the water’s edge!”
“We do,” said the others all together.
“The Ohio isn’t very far now,” said Henry.
“Ten or fifteen miles, p’raps,” said Shif’less Sol.
“And it’s likely that we’ll find a big force gathered there.”
“Looks that way to me, Henry. Mebbe the band o’ Blackstaffe will be waitin’ to join that o’ Wyatt. Then, feelin’ mighty strong, they’ll come back after us.”
“’Less we fill ’em full o’ fear whar they stan’. Mebbe they’ll stop at the river a day or two, an’ then we kin git to work. Water which hides will help us.”
They passed on through the forest, noting that the trail was growing wide and leisurely. At one point the Indians had stopped some time, and had eaten heavily of game brought in by the hunters. The bones of buffalo, deer and wild turkey were scattered all about.
“They’re feeling better,” said Henry. “I don’t think now they’ll cross the Ohio, but we must do so and attack from the other side. They’re not looking for any enemy in the north, and we may be able to terrify ’em again.”
It was not long before they came to the great yellow stream of the Ohio, and in an open space, not far from the shore, they saw the fires of the Indian encampment.
“I think we’ll have work to do here,” said Henry, “and we’ll keep well into the deep woods until long after dark.”
They did not light any fire, but lying close in the thicket, ate their supper of cold food. Three or four hours after sunset Henry, telling the others to await his return, crept near the Indian camp. As he had surmised, two formidable forces had joined, and nearly two hundred warriors sat around the fires. The new army, composed partly of Miamis and partly of Shawnees, with a small sprinkling of Wyandots, was led by Blackstaffe, who was now with Wyatt, the two talking together earnestly and looking now and then toward the south.
Henry had no doubt that the five were the subject of their conversation. Wyatt must have recovered by this time all his faculties and was telling Blackstaffe that their enemies were only mortal and could be taken, if the steel ring about them was recast promptly. Henry had no doubt that an attempt to forge it anew would speedily be made by the increased force, but his heart leaped at the thought that his comrades and he would be able to break it again.
As he crept a little nearer he saw to his surprise a fire blazing on the opposite shore, and he was able to discover the forms of warriors between him and the blaze. With the Indians bestride the stream the task of the five was complicated somewhat, but Henry was of the kind that meet fresh obstacles with fresh energy.
He returned to his comrades and reported what he had seen, but all agreed with him that they should cross the river, despite the encampment on the far shore, and make the attack from the north.
“We’ll do like that old Roman, Hannybul,” said Long Jim, “hit the enemy at his weakest part, an’ jest when he ain’t expectin’ us.”
“Hannibal was not a Roman, Jim,” said Paul.
“Well, then, he was a Rooshian or a Prooshian.”
“Nor was he either of those.”
“Well, it don’t make no diff’unce, nohow. He wuz a furriner, that’s shore, an’ he’s dead, both uv which things is ag’inst him. It looks strange to me, Paul, that a furriner with the outlandish ways that furriners always hev