These were not exactly the kind of words best calculated to give a lad courage, and I realized that by listening to her many seconds I should become cowardly. Even as I stood by her side my determination grew fainter; in five minutes more timorousness might overcome me.

"I will leave the cabin as he did, mother, and you shall stand at the door ready to give us entrance, if it so be we come back."

Mother rose quickly to her feet; kissed me fervently, and then, without delay, as if understanding that it was not well to prolong the parting, began to unbar the shutter.

In a twinkling I had put on powder horn and pouch; looked well to my rifle, and was ready to follow Simon Kenton in his desperate venture.

The shutter was open. Not daring to look back, I sprang out, believing as I did so that the report of a rifle would be my death knell; but no sound came.

The savages, thinking we were securely caged, had gathered around the prisoners in readiness to begin the terrible work, and I was free to rush on to my own doom.

While believing there was little chance I should succeed in saving my own life, I was not careless.

Moving onward stealthily; stopping at each yard of distance to learn if one of the foe might be near at hand, I pressed forward in a circle, counting on coming within view of the prisoners at a point midway between the cabin and that fork in the path which led to the riverside.

Each instant I expected to come upon Simon Kenton, and as the moments went by I began to understand that if he heard me approaching from the rear he might leap upon me, believing one of the savages was creeping upon him, and such realization caused me to hope it would be possible to avoid him.

It was a strange situation, this being equally afraid of friend and foe, and could have been in a certain degree avoided if I had but accompanied the young scout.

Nothing interfered with my progress, however, until I was arrived at the point for which I had been aiming, and saw full before me the preparations for the torture.

Two fires had been built ten or twelve yards distant from the prisoners, evidently for purposes of illumination, and at the feet of the unfortunate ones was heaped a quantity of dry wood, which would be kindled into a flame when the first portion of the terrible work had been concluded.

Now the savages were making ready for the dance around their victims, and I saw fourteen of the painted brutes, hideous in feathers, beads and gaudy coloring.

To describe that which followed immediately after I had a view of the scene, would be impossible. The fiends were alternately advancing toward the prisoners, and retreating, moving with a certain measured step, and brandishing weapons in the faces of the two who were helpless.

The lad seemed literally frozen with terror; but the man faced his cruel enemies as if defying them to wring a cry of pain from his compressed lips.

Perhaps five minutes passed while I thus remained motionless in the thicket within half a rifle-shot distance, and then one of the murderous brutes approached the boy knife in hand.

I knew the poor lad was to be maimed in some manner. The same blinding rush of rage which had come upon me while I was in the cabin, overpowered all sense of danger.

Giving no heed to my own peril; thinking only to save the frightened lad from immediate pain, I fired point blank at the brute who would have drawn the first blood, and when he fell, as though struck by lightning, a cry of triumph rang from my lips.

What followed I am unable to set down of my own knowledge, for I was become like one in a fever of rage and desperation.

I set about re-charging my rifle without giving heed to the rush which should have followed the shot, and dimly, as if it was something in which I had no concern, I heard the report of another rifle; another cry which seemed but the echo of my own.

Before my feverish brain had taken in all this as a fact, I was ready to shoot again, and never had I aimed with more deliberation. I felt certain this second bullet of mine would find its target, and when it sped on its way I needed not to gaze at the be-feathered brute within range to know that he was dead or disabled.

Again came what was like the echo of my own gun, and I saw four of the villains on the ground, while the others had made for the nearest shelter, each seeking some tree trunk that would shelter his worthless body.

Now I realized that I had come up nearly opposite where Simon Kenton was stationed, and he it was who had fired immediately after my rifle spoke.

Thus attacked on either hand, the savages must have believed they were beset by a large force, and their only desire was to shelter themselves from the deadly fire.

While loading my rifle I looked for an instant at the boy. His eyes were opened wide; his lips parted as if to cry out, and on his face was an expression of mingled hope and doubt painful in its intensity.

Again I saw a target. Twenty paces away was one of the brutes leaping from tree to tree as if striving to gain the river, and him I stopped on the instant.

Ten seconds later came the report of a rifle from the opposite side of the path, and I knew Simon Kenton had not wasted a bullet.

No less than six of the feathered brutes were out of the fight, and it was only with difficulty that I repressed a cry of triumph, for I knew full well the villains would not linger long against an unseen foe whose aim was so deadly.

Twice more did I fire, and once Kenton's rifle rang out. Then I believed the brutes had taken refuge in flight, for two passed within my line of vision while I was reloading my weapon.

"Kenton!" I shouted, holding the rifle at my shoulder meanwhile, lest by raising my voice I might have brought the foe upon me, and before one could have counted twenty the young scout was by my side.

"Is it indeed you, lad?" he asked as if overcome with astonishment.

"And why not? I have been able to take some part in the rescue?"

"Some part, lad? You have made it possible when I believed nothing might be done. But for your attack, yonder poor fellows would even now be in agony, because I could not have fired without bringing the whole gang upon me. A shot from both sides was what caused them to believe we had a large force."

"Let us cut those prisoners loose," I cried, waiting to hear no more, and eager to relieve them, from their misery.

"Wait," he whispered, clutching me by the arm. "The snakes may take it into their heads to turn back, and it will be well if I quicken their pace a bit. Stand here, and do not come out from cover till I get back."

He was off like a flash, and with no more noise, while I remained on the alert for an attack; but burning to set free the poor lad, who was seeking here and there with his eyes to learn if those who had saved him from pain were yet near at hand.

Then the man spoke words of hope to the boy, as I could understand, by the expression on both their faces, and I waited with finger on the trigger of the rifle lest the savages should make one desperate effort to accomplish their cruel work.

Surely if any of the Indians were near at hand now, some attempt would be made to kill the prisoners, and after waiting perhaps five minutes, I stepped boldly out within the rays of light.

Near at hand were four rifles, where they had been left against a sapling while their owners took part in the dance of death, and I knew we might add the prisoners, well armed, to our force.

The lad gave vent to a low cry of most intense joy as he saw me; but the man said quietly, as if it was quite natural I should be there:

"You came in good time. How many are with you?"

"Only one other, sir, and he is in pursuit of the savages," I replied, wielding my hunting knife to sever the bonds which held both prisoners helpless.

I had no more than given the poor fellows freedom, and while they stood chafing their wrists to restore the circulation of blood, Simon Kenton came up swiftly.

"It is well we get back to the cabin; the snakes have halted just under the river bank, and it may be they will turn back to find out how many we can muster. Come on!"

Stopping only sufficiently long to secure the rifles which were near at hand, we four ran to the cabin, the door of which my mother held open; and once we were inside, the dear soul clasped me to her bosom as if I had come back from the dead, as indeed was very nearly the case.

CHAPTER IV.
PAUL SAMPSON

When we were inside the cabin once more, with the door and windows barred and the man and lad whom we had rescued eating ravenously from the store of food my mother set before them, there was in my mind the thought that I had good reason to be proud of the part I had so lately played.

Simon Kenton and I had killed, or driven off, a band of fourteen savages, and surely my portion of the work had not been slight. It seemed to me then, as now, that I did my full share in the business. It is true, except for the fact of our having taken the brutes by surprise, and come upon them in such fashion they had no means of knowing but that we outnumbered them three or four to one, the matter might have come to a different ending; but it was much to our credit that we had been able to surprise those wretches who seldom made an attack unless it can be begun in like manner.

I repeat I was feeling proud of our work, more particularly when I looked at our guests, realizing that but for Simon Kenton and myself they would at that very moment be suffering all the tortures the painted wolves could inflict, and I glanced at the young scout, thinking to read in his face thoughts akin to mine.

In this I was mistaken. Despite what was very nearly a fact – that the Indians had been put to flight – he was standing by the loophole of the door keeping careful watch, and, so far as could be told by the expression on his face, it might have been us white men who were worsted in the encounter.

I failed to see in his bearing anything to betoken that he had but lately faced death in its most horrible form in order to make an effort at saving the lives of strangers, and from that moment I looked up to the young man much as if he had been of a superior race from any I had previously seen.

It is not to be supposed that I stood idly by dwelling upon such thoughts as are here set down in words, while, for aught we knew, the brutes might be gathering in greater force than before.

I was not so wholly given over to vanity as all that would indicate; but moved here or there looking after our defense in such manner as seemed to me proper, my mind busy all the while, and the vainglorious thoughts dying away as I observed Kenton.

Then, when the young scout had advised that I remain at the further end of the cabin, keeping watch from the loophole in the shutter, I turned my attention to those whom we had saved from the stake.

They were father and son, as I learned from the conversation the elder was holding with my mother, who ministered to their wants at the table. Horace Sampson was the man's name, and he called the lad Paul.

The two had come from Maryland to locate a homestead, and the only wonder in my mind was that the savages had not taken them captives before they got so far into the wilderness; for neither of them knew as much regarding woodcraft as had I on my tenth birthday.

They had believed it would be possible for them to frighten the Indians by a mere show of weapons, and could not be persuaded by those who had been on the frontier, that it was but little less than suicide to venture in this section of the country alone.

For three weeks they had traveled here and there searching for a likely-looking location, and not until the day previous had the savages shown themselves.

Then that which might have been expected happened in a twinkling, and before either the father or the son had an idea any danger threatened, they were disarmed, and bound within view of our cabin, as I have related.

Even after having been so near a terrible death, Mr. Sampson believed it might be possible to retrace his steps in safety; but my mother cried out so loudly against any such foolhardy venture, and painted the dangers of the frontier in such vivid colors, that the ignorant man finally came to believe it was hardly safe to trust himself alone amidst foes whose methods of warfare were so entirely a secret to him.

Simon Kenton must have been listening to the conversation even as I had been doing, for he said when mother had ceased her warning:

"The only safe path for you is that which leads to Corn Island. There you will find a goodly company, and I doubt not that before many days have passed you will meet with some who propose to journey on your road."

"But how may we provide for ourselves on this island of which you speak?" the man asked helplessly, and the question in itself was sufficient to prove his ignorance.

"There will be no lack of helping hands," Simon Kenton replied with a smile. "On the frontier men do not count the value of food and a shelter, as do those who live in town."

Then, as if to show he was pig-headed as well as ignorant, Mr. Sampson argued that he was not willing to accept charity from strangers; that it would be demeaning himself to receive anything for which he was unable to pay.

"You must do that, or take the chances of providin' sport for the painted snakes, as you were like to do a short time ago," Kenton replied curtly, and I understood by the tone that he was losing patience because of the man's stubbornness.

Having thus spoken the young scout turned once more to stand guard at the loophole, and Paul, the lad, his meal ended, came timidly toward where I was stationed.

He appeared to be a boy after my own heart, entirely different in manners and speech from his father, and I decided at once that we should be firm friends so long as he might remain on the frontier.

I could well understand that he was burning with a desire to ask questions, and did not hesitate to give him encouragement to begin.

He was eager to know how long I had lived in the wilderness; how often I had fought against the savages, and such like simple questions, all of which I answered until he was come to an end.

Then I asked about his home in Maryland; of his journey to the Ohio River, and, finally, how he felt while bound to the stake.

"The fear in my heart was so great that I did not fully have my senses," he replied with a shudder. "Not until the fires were kindled and the dancing had begun did I dream that those beasts would put us to death. I was like one in a dream until the first shot was fired, and a savage dropped dead almost at my feet."

"We didn't open fire any too soon," I said with perhaps a tinge of pride in my tone because I had played my part well, as it seemed to me.

"In another instant the Indian's knife would have been in my body!" he cried. "I could tell by the fierce gleam in his eyes that he counted on taking my life."

"The murdering brutes do not kill their prisoners so quickly or easily. He would have prolonged your life to its utmost limit, in order that you might suffer the more."

Then I told him of my father's cruel death; of what we had found to tell the horrible story, and before I had finished the tears were running down his cheeks.

Simon Kenton must have been listening to our conversation, for he called sharply, when Paul was almost overcome with grief:

"You lads had best get what sleep you can before daylight, for as soon as the sun rises, if it so be the red wolves have drawn off, we must set out for Corn Island."

I understood that he was not well pleased because I had frightened the lad who was so lately come from the bustling world, and it shamed me because of giving him, who was so brave, an opportunity for reproof.

My mother spread out the skins near the fireplace, where I had been in the custom of sleeping, and Paul dutifully laid himself down, while his father remained at the table evidently in a brown study.

It was not in my mind to allow Simon Kenton to perform all the labor, and I said stoutly, yet at the same time feeling that my eyes were growing heavy:

"I count on doing my share of the watching this night. It is not right that I should sleep while you remain awake."

"I should not trust you to stand guard alone, and there is no good reason why both of us remain on duty. Take your sleep now, that you may be the better fitted for a long day's tramp."

He spoke in such a commanding tone that I could do no less than obey, and when my mother clambered up the ladder to her bed in the loft I lay down by Paul's side, closing my eyes in slumber almost as soon as my body was stretched out at full length.

The day had dawned when a cry from Simon Kenton brought me to my feet in alarm, believing the savages were upon us; but he quieted my fears as he said with a laugh:

"I had a notion of findin' out how long you need to get your eyes open wide. If we two are to join Major Clarke, we should be well acquainted."

"I am not such an idiot as to sleep after being summoned," I replied just a trifle testily, for it seemed much as if he was making sport of me. "I may not be as well up in woodcraft as are you; but I'm no idler."

"Now you are takin' me too seriously," he replied with another laugh which disarmed me of anger. "It was high time you made ready for the tramp, an' I'm pleased to see you so quick at a call. He who finds it hard to shake the sleep from his eyes should remain in towns where he need not hold a rifle ever at hand in order to save his life. Look at yonder would-be settler," he added in a whisper, and I glanced in the direction of his outstretched finger, where was Mr. Sampson, yawning and stretching as if struggling to gather his senses. "Is it strange the painted brutes captured such as he with but little difficulty?"

Paul was no such sluggard. He had risen at the same time I did, and now stood near the door on the alert for whatever might come his way.

I could hear my mother moving about in the loft, and knew she would soon be down to cook breakfast, after which, as I understood the plan, we were to begin the journey.

"Have the savages left us?" I asked of the young scout.

"Ay, so it seems, though I'm not overly eager to believe it without better proof than that we've heard nothin' from 'em since you went to sleep. Stand you here ready for anything that may turn up, an' I'll have a look round."

He unbarred the door as he spoke, and when he had stolen softly out I stood guard in his place, with Paul close by my side.

Not until the morning meal had been cooked and was spread on the table did Simon Kenton return, and the news which he brought gave me a sense of deepest relief.

"The dose we gave 'em last night was enough," he said, leaning his rifle against the side of the hut as he took a seat at the table without waiting for an invitation. "Now is the time for us to start, for there's no knowin' how soon the brutes may take it into their ugly heads to come back."

"Are we to leave all our belongings here?" I asked, looking around at the scanty store of furniture, the greater portion of which my father had made.

"Better them than your hair," Simon Kenton replied. "If the snakes come this way again they'll make short work of the cabin an' all that's in it, whether you be here to make a show of defendin' it or not. In case they stay away, the stuff will be safe where it is, if we take care to keep out the wild beasts."

There was a look of pain on my mother's face which I knew had been caused by the thought of leaving behind her scanty goods; but she gave no words to her sorrow, joining with the young scout in the conversation concerning the day's tramp.

When the meal had been eaten, and mother tidied up the cabin a bit, we went out into the sunlight, closing door and window shutter behind us, as if counting on returning before nightfall.

Simon Kenton took the lead, and then was begun the long march which did not end until late in the night.

We made few halts, and then only for a few moments at a time. We ate as we walked, forcing our way through the dense underbrush, and ever on the alert against danger.

Mr. Sampson more than once insisted that the pace was killing him; he declared, when the day was half spent, that it would be impossible for him to walk half a mile farther; but when Kenton quietly suggested that he might halt wheresoever he chose, and follow our trail the next morning, he came to the conclusion that perhaps he might keep his feet a short time longer.

Paul was as cheery a companion as one could desire. Although he was foot-sore and weary, as I knew full well, not a word of complaint came from his lips, and before the day was ended I knew Simon Kenton had begun to love the lad even as I already did, for he whispered once when we were well in advance of the others:

"That boy is worth a dozen such men as his father. He has got true pluck, an' I'll warrant you wouldn't hear him whine even when he'd fallen in his tracks worn out."

There is no reason why I need say how my mother bore her share of the fatigue. She was a brave, true woman, and when any task, however great, was to be done, went at it with a will and in silence, or with cheery words.

When, at a late hour in the evening, we were come opposite Corn Island, and had found one of Major Clarke's force who was willing to ferry us across the river, I was more astounded than words can express, for it was as if I had suddenly emerged from the wilderness to find myself in a populous town.

No less than twenty families had come down with the volunteers, and were encamped together, nearby where the men had their quarters. Counting men, women and children, there could not have been less than four hundred and fifty people, three times as many as I had ever before seen in one place.

The greater portion of this gathering was asleep; but I could well fancy what bustle and confusion there must be when all were moving about, and the mere idea bewildered me.

Simon Kenton led us directly to the hut set apart for the use of Major Clarke, and there introduced us to the commander of the expedition, who bid us welcome in such a hearty fashion that even Mr. Sampson must have forgotten what he had said about "accepting charity."

Mother was taken in charge by some of the women, and we four, meaning Simon Kenton, the Sampsons, father and son, and myself, were given the use of a lean-to made of brush – not a substantial shelter; but to me, who had well-nigh come to an end of my endurance, it was most inviting.

Even Kenton himself felt the effects of the long tramp; and we indulged in no conversation that night, each member of the party falling asleep as soon as he was on the ground.

Paul and I were early abroad next morning. To him there was no novelty in such a throng, for he told me solemnly that he had seen in Maryland many more people bent on merrymaking than could be found on Corn Island, and I was forced to believe the lad, although it hardly seemed possible.

As I have said, there were no less than twenty families who had come down with the major's force to find homes in the wilderness, and, learning in some way, I know not how, that I was the son of a settler, many of them gathered around to learn how we had fared on our clearing.

There was more than one pale face among the women and younger children when I told of my father's death, and I dare say but few would have remained to build homes nearabout the Ohio River if it had been possible for them to get back to the settlement they had just left.

Mr. Sampson appeared like a different man now that he was with a throng of people. He no longer seemed to think it necessary he should return to Maryland, where a wife and two children awaited his coming; but declared that he would join his fortunes with those who counted on building up a village on the frontier.

Paul kept close by my side as I talked with the men concerning the expedition on which Major Clarke was to lead them, and when, late on that first day in camp, I told him of my intention to join the force as a volunteer, he declared that nothing would please him better than to be my comrade.

"If my father is willing, I shall go," he said quietly; but in a tone which told me that he was one with a will of his own, and not likely to be led by the nose against his own desire or inclination.

At the first opportunity I sought out Simon Kenton to tell him of Paul's plans, and the young scout said heartily:

"I like the lad, and will be glad to have him with us, although for a time he may cost us some trouble."

"He is quick to learn, I fancy, and by observing those around him, will soon be able to get about in a proper fashion," I replied confidently, whereupon the scout surprised me by saying:

"There will be none save you an' me for him to see."

"What then will have become of all this gathering?" I asked in astonishment.

"They will be far behind us, lad. Was it in your mind that I would march in line like a soldier?"

"What else can you do?"

"Remain in advance to make certain no danger threatens. You and I will act as scouts; I reckon there may be others, but I have been hired to conduct all this party, first to the British outpost at Kaskaskia, and then to Cahokia."

"You alone?" I cried, overwhelmed to learn that this young fellow was of so much importance in the eyes of a soldier like Major Clarke.

"Not alone, for I count on takin' one Louis Nelson with me, an' he has it in mind that Paul Sampson will make the third."

"But I am far too ignorant to share such an important duty!"

"The lad who is willin' to face a gang of painted wolves such as besieged your cabin, and to do so almost single-handed, gives promise of bein' a comrade to my likin'. We'll lead the men, Louis, an' I dare venture to say there'll be no ambush we shan't scent out before the murderin' redskins succeed in doing any mischief."

"And are you willing to take Paul Sampson?" I asked, still in a maze of bewilderment.

"Aye, that I am, an' venture to say he'll turn out to be your equal after a little experience."

I could hardly contain myself for joy at the thought that mine was to be a man's work; but ran off at full speed to make my mother acquainted with what I believed was rare good fortune.

She, kind soul, was saddened because such an opportunity had presented itself to me, and although she spoke not a word against the enterprise, I understood what was in her heart, and said quickly, even though it cost me a pang to utter the words:

"You are not pleased, mother, and I had thought it would make you glad because Simon Kenton had so much of faith in me. I will tell him I cannot go, and you may forget I have spoken of it."

The tears were very near her eyelids as she drew me closer and said softly, hardly daring to trust her voice:

"I would not keep you, my son, even though the parting give me great pain. On the frontier boys must speedily learn to be men, and it may be best for you to go. Perhaps we will join these settlers who intend to build up a town nearby, when you come back covered with glory."

"Now you are making sport of me, mother," I replied reproachfully. "There is no glory to be gained in fighting savages."

"To my mind you gained very much, Louis, when you ventured your life to save Mr. Sampson and Paul."

I was at a loss to understand exactly what she meant, nor did I try very hard, for the look of pain was gone from her face, and I wanted to repeat the good news to Paul.

I found him on the shore of the island, gazing across the water as if he saw in the muddy stream some wonderful vision, and instead of being surprised or elated when I told what proud position we were to occupy in the expedition, he said with a sigh:

"It is enough if I am to be with you, Louis."

"And your father? Will he give his consent?"

"He is laying plans for the new settlement which is to be made, and when I told him it would give me pleasure to go with you and Simon Kenton, he said he had other things of which to think."

"Does that mean you are free to go?"

"Now that he has companions there will be no thought of me. We will go, Louis; but do you think we will come back?"

The question almost frightened me. I had thought only of being a scout for such a brave party as was here encamped, and had given no heed to the possible danger which awaited us, until reminded of it by Paul's words.