The Forest Runners Part 34

"I hope so," said Daniel Poe earnestly.

They had begun to light the evening fires, and in the west a great red sun blazed just above the hills. Daniel Poe suddenly put his hand upon d.i.c.k Salter's arm.

"d.i.c.k, what is that?" he said, pointing with a long forefinger.

A black silhouette had appeared on the crest of a hill in the very eye of the sun, and d.i.c.k Salter, shading his brow with his hand, gazed long and anxiously.

"It's a man," he said at last, "an' ef I'm any judge uv a human bein' it's about the finest specimen uv a man that ever trod green gra.s.s. Look, Mr.

Poe!"

The figure, outlined against its brilliant background, seemed to grow and come nearer. Others had seen now, and the whole wagon train gazed with intent and curious eyes. They saw in the blazing light every detail of an erect and splendid figure, evidently that of a youth, but tall beyond the average of men. He was clad in forest garb--fringed hunting s.h.i.+rt and leggings and racc.o.o.n-skin cap. He stood erect, but easily, holding by the muzzle a long, slender-barreled rifle, which rested, stock upon the ground. Seen there in all the gorgeous redness of the evening sunlight, there was something majestic, something perhaps weird and unreal, in the grand and silent figure.

"He's white, that's sh.o.r.e!" said d.i.c.k Salter.

"He looks like a wilderness G.o.d," murmured Daniel Poe, in his beard.

"Look!" exclaimed d.i.c.k Salter. "There's another!"

A second figure appeared suddenly beside the first, that of a youth, also, not so tall as the first; but he, too, stood erect, silent and motionless, gazing at the wagon train.

"And a third!" exclaimed Daniel Poe.

"And a fourth and fifth!" added d.i.c.k Salter. "See, there are five uv 'em!"

Three other figures had appeared, seeming to arise in the sunlight as if by Arabian magic; and now all five stood there in a row, side by side, everyone silent and motionless, and everyone holding by the muzzle a long, slender-barreled rifle, its stock upon the ground, as he gazed at the train.

A deep breath ran through the crowd of emigrants, and all--men, women, and children--moved forward for a better look. There was something mysterious and uncanny in this sudden apparition of the five there in the blazing light of the setting sun, which outlined their figures in every detail and raised them to gigantic proportions. On those hills only was light; everywhere else the mighty curving wilderness, full of unknown terrors, was already dark with the coming night.

"It is our omen of danger. I feel it, I feel it In every bone of me,"

murmured Daniel Poe into his great black beard.

"We must find out what this means, that's sh.o.r.e," said d.i.c.k Salter.

But as he spoke, the first figure, that of the great, splendid youth, stepped right out of the eye of the sun, and he was followed in single file by the four others, all stepping in unison. They came down the hill, and directly toward the travelers. Again that deep breath ran through the crowd of emigrants, and the chief note of it was admiration, mingled with an intense curiosity.

All the five figures were strange and wild, sinewy, powerful, almost as dark as Indians, their eyes watchful and wary and roving from side to side, their clothing wholly of skins and furs, singular and picturesque.

They seemed almost to have come from another world. But Daniel Poe was never lacking either in the qualities of hospitality or leaders.h.i.+p.

"Friends," he said, "as white men--for such I take you to be--you are welcome to our camp."

The first of the five, the great, tall youth with the magnificent shoulders, smiled, and it seemed to Daniel Poe that the smile was wonderfully frank and winning.

"Yes, we are white, though we may not look it," he said in a clear, deep voice, "and we have come near a thousand miles to meet you."

"To meet us?" repeated Daniel Poe, in surprise, while d.i.c.k Salter, beside him, was saying to himself, as he looked at one of the five: "Ef that ain't Tom Ross, then I'll eat my cap."

"Yes," repeated Henry Ware, with the most convincing emphasis, "it's you that we've come to meet. We belong at Wareville, although we've been far in the North throughout the winter. My name is Henry Ware, this is Paul Cotter, and these are Tom Ross, Sol Hyde, and Jim Hart. We must have a word with you at once, where the others cannot hear."

Tom Ross and d.i.c.k Salter, old friends, were already shaking hands. Henry Ware glanced at the emigrants pressing forward in a great crowd, and sympathy and tenderness showed in his eyes as he looked at the eager, childish faces so numerous among them.

"Will you keep them back?" he said to Daniel Poe. "I must speak to you where none of those can hear."

Daniel Poe waved away the crowd, and then took a step forward.

"We have come," said Henry Ware, in low, intense tones, "to warn you that you are going to be attacked by a great force of warriors, furnished by the league of the northwestern tribes. They mean that you shall never reach Wareville or Marlowe, to double the strength of those settlements.

They would have laid an ambush for you, but we have been among them and we know their plans."

A s.h.i.+ver ran through the stalwart frame of Daniel Poe--a s.h.i.+ver of apprehension, not for himself, but for the five hundred human lives intrusted to his care. Then he steadied himself.

"We can fight," he said, "and I thank you for your warning; I cannot doubt its truth."

"We will stay with you," said Henry Ware. "We know the signs of the forest, and we can help in the battle that is sure to come, and also before and after."

His voice was full of confidence and courage, and it sent an electric thrill through the veins of Daniel Poe. Henry Ware was one of those extraordinary human beings whose very presence seems to communicate strength to others.

"We'll beat 'em off," said Daniel Poe sanguinely.

"Yes, we'll beat 'em off," said Henry Ware. Then he continued: "You must tell all the men, and of course the women and children will hear of if, but it's best to let the news spread gradually."

Daniel Poe went back with the messengers to the wagons, and soon it was known to everybody that the Indians were laying an ambush for them all.

Some wails broke forth from the women, but they were quickly suppressed, and all labored together to put the camp in posture of defense. The strangers were among them, cheering them, and predicting victory if battle should come. Paul, in particular, quickly endeared himself to them.

He was so hearty, so full of jests, and he quoted all sorts of sc.r.a.ps of old history bearing particularly upon their case, and showing that they must win if attacked.

"There was a race of very valiant people living a very long, long time ago," he said, "who always made their armies intrench at night. n.o.body could take a Roman camp, and we've got to imitate those old fellows."

Under the guidance of Paul and his friends, the Roman principle was followed, at least in part. The wagons were drawn up in a great circle in an open s.p.a.ce, where they could not be reached by a rifle shot from the trees, and then more than two hundred men, using pick and spade, speedily threw up an earthwork three feet high that inclosed the wagons. Henry Ware regarded it with the greatest satisfaction.

"I don't know any Indian force," he said, "that will rush such a barrier in the face of two or three hundred rifles. Now, Mr. Poe, you post guards at convenient intervals, and the rest of you can take it easy inside."

The guards were stationed, but inside the ring of wagons many fires burned brightly, and around them was a crowd that talked much, but talked low.

The women could not sleep, nor could the children, whose curiosity was intensely aroused by the coming of these extraordinary-looking strangers.

The larger of the children understood the danger, but the smaller did not, and their spirits were not dampened at all.

The night came down, a great blanket of darkness, in the center of which the camp fires were now fused together into a cone of light. A few stars came out in the dusky heavens, and twinkled feebly. The spring wind sighed gently among the new leaves of the forest. The voices of women and children gradually died. Some slept in blankets before the fires, and others in the wagons, whose stout oak sides would turn any bullet.

Daniel Poe walked just outside the circle of the wagons, and his heart was heavy with care. Yet he was upborne by the magnetic personality of Henry Ware, who walked beside him.

"How far from us do you think they are now?" he asked.

"Fifty miles, perhaps, and they are at least a thousand strong. It was their object to fall suddenly upon you in the dark, but when their scouts find that you fortify every night, they will wait to ambush you on the day's march."

"Undoubtedly," said Daniel Poe, "and we've got to guard against it as best we can."

"But my comrades and I and d.i.c.k Salter will be your eyes," said Henry.

"We'll be around you in the woods, watching all the time."

"Thank G.o.d that you have come," said Daniel Poe devoutly. "I think that Providence must have sent you and your friends to save us. Think what might have happened if you had not come."

He shuddered. Before him came a swift vision of red slaughter--women and children ma.s.sacred in the darkness. Then his brave heart swelled to meet the coming danger. The night pa.s.sed without alarm, but Henry, Ross, and s.h.i.+f'less Sol, roaming far in the forest, saw signs that told them infallibly where warriors had pa.s.sed.