The Keepers of the Trail - Cover

The Keepers of the Trail

Copyright© 2023 by Joseph A. Altsheler

Chapter 10: Besieged

Henry did not awake the next day after his usual fashion, that is with all his faculties and senses alert, for the strain on him had been so great that the process required a minute or two. Then he looked around the little fortress which so aptly could be called a hole in the wall. Many dried leaves had been brought in and placed in five heaps, the fifth for Shif’less Sol when he should come. The dressed deer, rolled in leaves, lay at the far end. The little stream was trickling away, singing its eternal pleasant song, and a bright shaft of sunlight, entering, illuminated one part of the cave but left the other in cool dusk.

Silent Tom sat by the side of the door watching, his rifle on his knees. Nothing that moved in the foliage in front of them could escape his eyes. Long Jim was slicing the cooked venison with his hunting knife, and Paul, sitting on his own particular collection of leaves with his back against the wall, was polishing his hatchet. It looked more like a friendly group of hunters than a band fighting to escape death by torture. And despite the real fact the sense of comfort was strong.

Henry knew by the sunlight that the rain had passed and that a warm clear day was at hand. He inferred, too, that nothing had happened while he slept, and rising he drank at the stream, after which he bathed his face, and resumed his buckskin clothing which had dried.

“Good sleep,” said Paul.

“Fine,” said Henry.

“You showed great judgment in choosing your inn.”

“I knew that I would find here friends, a bed, water, food and a roof.”

“Everything, in fact, except fire.”

“Which we can do without for a while.”

“But I would say that the special pride of the inn is the roof. Certainly no rain seems to have got through it last night.”

“It’s fifteen or twenty feet thick, and you will notice that the ceiling has been sculptured by a great artist.”

Henry had seen it before, but he observed it more closely now, with all its molded ridges and convolutions.

“Nature does work well, sometimes,” he said.

Long Jim handed him strips of venison.

“Eat your breakfast,” he said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Visitor, that I kin offer you only one thing to eat, but as you came late an’ we haven’t much chance to git anythin’ else you’ll hev to put up with it. But thar’s plenty uv water. You kin drink all day long, ef you like.”

Henry accepted the venison, ate heartily, drank again, and went to the door where Silent Tom was watching.

“Look through the little crack thar,” said Tom, “an’ you kin see everythin’ that’s to be seen without bein’ seen.”

Henry took a long and comprehensive look. He saw the thick foliage down the slope, and the equally thick foliage on the other side. It looked beautiful in its deep green, still heavy with the rain drops of the night before, despite a brilliant sun that was rising. The wind had died down to a gentle murmur.

“Anything stirring, Tom?” he asked.

“Nothin’ fur some time. ‘Bout an hour ago I caught the shine o’ a red blanket ‘mong them trees over thar, four hundred yards or so from us an’ too fur fur a shot.”

“Do you think they’ll try to rush us?”

Silent Tom shook his head.

“Not ‘less they’re pushed,” he replied. “‘Pears to me they’ll settle down to a long siege. They know we’re after thar cannon an’ they mean to see that we don’t git near ‘em. Ef they could keep us holed up here fur two or three weeks they’d willin’ enough spare twenty warriors or so fur the job.”

“But why are such important men as Red Eagle and Blackstaffe left here?”

“Mebbe, they thought they’d git at us an’ finish us in a day or two. Look at that, Henry. What do you make it out to be?”

“It’s a spot of white in the foliage, and it’s coming nearer. They want to talk with us. Somebody has hoisted a piece of old cloth on a gun barrel and is approaching. It’s Braxton Wyatt.”

“Yes, I see him, an’ he’s within range now. May I send a bullet squar’ly through his head, Henry?”

“No, no! You mustn’t do that! We’ll observe all the rules of war, whether they do or not. There’s Blackstaffe behind Wyatt, and two more Indians. Let them come within a hundred yards, Tom, then hail ‘em. Paul, you do the talking, but say I’m not here.”

The two renegades and the two Indians came on with confidence, until they were halted by Tom’s loud command.

The four stopped and Wyatt called out:

“We want to talk with you and it’s better for you to do it.”

“It may or may not be better for us,” said Paul. “We’re the best judges of that. But what do you want?”

“You know me, Paul Cotter,” said Wyatt, who recognized the voice, “and you know I keep my word. Now, we have you fellows shut up there. All we’ve got to do is to wait until your food gives out, which’ll be very soon, and then you’ll drop into our hands like an apple from a tree.”

“Oh, no,” said Paul airily. “We’ve always had this place in mind for some such use as the present, and from time to time we’ve been stocking it up with food. We could live here a year in comfort. Long Jim is cooking deer steaks now, and the smoke is going out through a hole, which leads clear through the hill. If you’ll go around to the other side, about a mile from here, you’ll see the smoke.”

Paul merely followed the Indian fashion of taunting one’s enemies. He believed that in the forest it was best to follow its ways.

“Aren’t you going, Braxton?” he called. “Long Jim is letting the fire die down and if you don’t hurry around there you won’t see the smoke.”

“You think you’re smart, Paul Cotter,” Braxton Wyatt called back in anger. “You’ve read too many books. Drop your high and mighty ways and come down to facts.”

“Well, what do you want? You’re in our front yard and we have the right to shoot you, but we won’t do it until you tell what you’re doing there.”

“As I said, we’ve got you shut up. We’re sure that you haven’t food for more than two or three days. Surrender and we’ll spare your lives and take you as prisoners to the British at Detroit--that is, all except Henry Ware.”

“And why except Henry?”

“He has done so much against the warriors that I don’t think we could induce them to spare him.”

“But what makes you think he’s here?”

Wyatt hesitated and he and Blackstaffe spoke together a few moments in a low voice. Then he replied:

“One of our largest and strongest warriors was strangled nearly to death last night. Nobody could have done it but Ware.”

Paul laughed loud.

“And so that’s your evidence!” he cried. “Well, you’re mistaken. I did that myself. I was needing a little exercise and so I went out, found this warrior in the grass and manhandled him. Then I came back feeling a lot better.”

Wyatt’s face blazed.

“You lie, Paul Cotter,” he exclaimed. “You couldn’t do such a thing!”

“Oh, yes, I could,” said Paul merrily, “but you’re losing your temper again, Braxton. You should never call anybody a liar when you’re within range of his gun. No, we’re not going to shoot. We always respect a flag of truce, though we doubt whether you would. Now, I want to ask you what have we ever done to make you think we’d betray a comrade like Henry? Are you judging us by yourself? You might have a thousand warriors out there and our answer would be the same. Try to take us and see what will happen. We give you just two minutes to get out of range.”

Wyatt, Blackstaffe and the two Indians retired hurriedly. Long Jim uttered an indignant exclamation.

“What’s the matter with you, Jim?” asked Henry.

“I’ve been insulted.”

“Insulted? What do you mean?”

“To think anybody could have reckoned that me an’ the others would be mean enough to give you up jest to save our own hides!”

Henry’s eyes twinkled.

“I know you wouldn’t give me up, Jim, but how do you know, if our places had been changed, that I wouldn’t have given you up?”

“You’re talkin’ like Shif’less Sol,” said Long Jim in the utmost good humor. “Now I wonder whar that ornery, long-legged cuss is.”

“Not so far away, it’s safe to say. He’ll be hanging around, ready to help whenever help is needed most.”

“That’s shore. Thar’s a heap o’ good in Shif’less Sol, though it don’t always ‘pear on the surface. Wish he wuz here. Now, what’s next, Henry?”

“Waiting, waiting, and then more waiting.”

“You don’t think they’ll give it up an’ go away?”

“Not for two or three days anyhow, and I think it likely also that they’ll make another general attack.”

“An’ you think, too, that they’ve all gone some distance out of rifle shot?”

“Not a doubt of it, but why do you ask, Jim?”

“You see a lot uv dead wood layin’ in the bushes not twenty feet from the door uv our manshun. I’d like to drag it in an’ cook that thar deer afore it sp’ils. We’ve some wood already, but we need more. I think we could manage so most uv the smoke would go out in front an’ we wouldn’t choke. Ef we’re held here fur a long time we’ll need that thar deer.”

“Go ahead, Jim, and get it. We three will cover you with our rifles.”

Jim stole forth, and making a number of trips under the muzzles of his comrades, brought in a plentiful supply of wood. It was not until he was returning with his last load that the Indians noticed him. Then they sent up a war cry, and fired several distant shots. But it was too late. Long Jim was safely inside the next moment, and the warriors, knowing how deadly were the rifles that guarded him, were afraid to return to the attack.

“Him that does at once what he oughter do don’t have to do it when it’s too late,” said Long Jim. “I’m goin’ to build a fire close to the door, where most uv the smoke will go out. Ef it gits too strong fur us we’ll jest hev to put it out. But ef things work smooth I mean to cook that deer.”

They cut up the deer in slices with their big hunting knives. Then they heaped the dry wood near the door and cut off many shavings and splinters, building up the heap at least part of the way outside, in such a position that they were sure the wind would take the smoke and most of the heat down the valley. Then Long Jim, feeling that the rest of the task was his, and having a certain pride, lighted the heap with his flint and steel. It blazed up rapidly, and, as they had hoped, the wind carried nearly all the smoke out of the mouth of the cave.

The dry wood burned rapidly and a great mass of coals soon gathered. It was very hot in the cave, but liberal applications of the cold water enabled them to stand it. Meanwhile all except the one on guard were busy broiling big steaks on the ends of sticks and laying them away on the leaves. The whole place was filled with the pleasant aroma.

“Warriors!” said Tom Ross, who happened to be on guard at that particular moment. “They’ve seen our smoke, an’ mebbe our fire, an’ they don’t understan’ it.”

“You see that they keep on failing to understand it,” said Henry, “and if curiosity makes any of them too curious just give him a hint.”

The three went on with their cooking, “storing up like Noah against the flood,” Paul said, knowing that Silent Tom would keep a watch beyond which no warrior could pass.

“Our beautiful stone house will need a good airing after all this is over,” said Paul. “Smoke will gather and ashes too are flying about. But it’s a grand cooking.”

“So it is,” said Long Jim, who was in his element. “That wuz shorely a fine fat deer. You kin pile more on that shelf in the rock, thar, Paul. Wrap the dry leaves ‘roun’ ‘em, too. They’re clean an’ good. I guess that old-timer uv yourn that you’ve told us about often--’Lysses, wuzn’t it?”

“Yes, Ulysses.”

“That’s right. Well, old ‘Lysses in them roamings uv his, lastin’ a thousand years or some sech time, would hev been glad to come upon a place like this to rest his wanderin’ an’ sleepy head. I’ve a notion uv my own too, Paul.”

“What is it?”

“That Greece ain’t the land it’s cracked up to be. I’ve never heard you tell uv any rivers thar like the Ohio or Missip. I ain’t heard you say anythin’ about the grand forests like ourn, an’ all the hundreds an’ thousands uv branches an’ creeks an’ springs.”

“No, Jim, it’s a dry country, mostly bare.”

“Then the wilderness here fur me. I like a big woods, a thousand miles every way, an’ the leaves so thick you kin hardly see the sky above in spring. I don’t see what the herds of buff’ler found thar to live on.”

“They didn’t have our kind of buffalo.”

“Ef they didn’t hev our kind they didn’t hev any kind.”

Paul did not argue the question with him, because it was useless to talk to Long Jim about ancient glories, when modern glories that he considered so much greater were before his eyes. Moreover, Paul himself had a love of the greenwood, and the deep streams, so numerous.

“Maybe you’re right, Jim,” he said.

“I guess I am,” returned Long Jim emphatically. “An’ I don’t think so much uv them old Greek fighters ‘long side the fellers that fight the warriors nowadays in these woods. You rec’lect we talked that over once before. Now, how would A-killus, all in his brass armor with his shinin’ sword an’ long spear come out try in’ to stalk an’ Injun camp. Why, they’d hear his armor rattlin’ a quarter uv a mile away, an’, even ef they didn’t, he’d git his long spear so tangled up in the bushes an’ vines that he couldn’t move ‘less he left it behind him. An’ s’pos’n’ he had to run fur it an’ come to a creek or a river, which he would shorely soon do, ez thar are so many in this country, an’ then he’d have to jump in with ‘bout a hundred pounds uv brass armor on. Why, he’d go right to the bottom an’ stick down so deep in the mud that the Injuns would hev to dive fur his scalp.”

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