the sun was visibly declining toward the west when the wagon, driven by williams and followed by jack telfair and cato, rumbled out of girty’s town and took the road down the st. marys river.
the road led through the black swamp, that great morass of water-soaked quagmire that covered all northwestern ohio, stretching forty miles from north to south and one hundred and twenty miles from east to west, from fort wayne to the cuyahoga and the western reserve. all over it giant trees soared heavenward, springing from sunlight-starved ground on which no undergrowth could root. between lay fallen limbs and rotting tree trunks, thick water-soaked moss, and carpets of moldering leaves, layer upon layer. no one that once crossed it ever forgot the treacherous quicksands that hid beneath the blighted plants, the crumbling logs half sunk in shiny pools where copperheads lay in wait, the low-hung branches that dripped moisture to the stunted vegetation, the clouds of venomous mosquitoes, the brilliant flies that clustered upon the dead even before it was dead, the labyrinths of tortuous runways. except at midday no ray of sunlight ever penetrated the canopy of interlaced[104] branches that arched overhead and that, to a soaring bird, must have looked as solid and unbroken as a grassy field.
underfoot the ground was spongy with standing water that moved sluggishly, if at all, through creeks and rivers almost level with the surface. shallow pools, alive with water-snakes, were everywhere.
a few roads, so-called, ran through this swamp. mad anthony wayne had chopped a way through it from greenville to fort defiance, what time he crushed the miamis’ pride and retrieved harmer’s and st. clair’s defeats. hull and his army were even then carving another road through it from urbana to detroit and disgrace and defeat. a third road, little more than a trail, followed down the auglaize. across these north-south passways ran the east-west road that jack was following down the st. marys, from girty’s town to fort wayne.
the road was not much of a road. rather, it was an indian trail, broadened by white men, who had hewed down the great trees that had stood along it, making a rutted stump-encumbered mudhole-filled passage, through which a wagon must move slowly and perilously. once started along it the teamster must go on. there was no place to turn aside and few places when it was possible to turn back.
jack had no thought of turning back. he was pressing forward with feverish haste. fort wayne[105] was eighty miles way—a four days’ journey which jack hoped to make in three. he was wild to seek his kinswoman before it was too late. but he could not shirk his self-appointed task. the departure of tecumseh and his braves for the north to join the british warned him anew that war was imminent and that ammunition might be sorely needed in the fort. as a matter of fact war had already been declared and couriers were speeding north, west, and south from washington bearing the news. one was about to find general hull at fort findlay, which he had just built in the middle of the black swamp.
throughout the long afternoon alagwa lay quiet in the wagon, steadily gaining her physical strength though not attaining any great degree of mental quietude. her brain, in fact, was whirling. within two days she had passed through experiences more outside her usual routine than she had undergone in all her life before. first had come captain brito with his claims of kinship and his tales of another land; then had followed tecumseh’s narration of the circumstances under which she had come under his care, her appeal to be allowed to help those who had helped her, and her assignment to duty; next had come her disguise, her start southward, its tragic ending and her finding of the young white chief, her kinsman; last had been the meeting of the two white men and the illuminating discourse[106] between them. over all hung the memory of the runner who was trailing her through the forest, ready to bear her messages to tecumseh and her friends.
most of all her thoughts centered on jack and brito. much of their talk she had been unable to understand, but certain parts of it had been burnt into her consciousness. first, she had great possessions—possessions greatly coveted by white men. tecumseh had said that all white men would commit any crime to get wealth; and she had accepted his statement as a general fact not to be disputed. all her life she had been taught to believe it. and now these two white men, her kinsmen, had in a way confirmed it, for each clearly believed that the other was seeking her, not for her own sake, but for what was hers.
could both be right, she wondered? could both have bad hearts and forked tongues? she remembered that captain brito had not told her of her possessions but had pretended that he had come for her as a matter of duty. his words concerning this had been forked, and she found it easy to believe that they would be forked concerning other things. but the other—the young white chief! was he false also? no doubt he was, she decided scornfully; his clear eyes and frank brow were merely a disguise behind which he could best gain his ends. all white men were bad and he was no exception. she[107] was a prisoner and she would probably be in his company for some time to come. by the aid of her boy’s disguise (ah! but she was thankful for it) she would find him out—would find that he, too, was seeking her for her wealth. then she could hate him as she should.
tired of lying prone she tried to sit up and managed to do so without feeling the access of dizziness and pain that had attended her former effort. she moved silently, as she had been trained to do by her life with the indians, and her change of position did not attract the notice of williams, who was driving stolidly along. almost instantly, however, the rear of the wagon was darkened by a horse’s head and above it she saw the smiling blue eyes of the young chief.
“well, youngster!” he called, merrily. “how are you? feeling better?”
color flooded the girl’s cheeks as she gazed at him. he was even pleasanter-looking than her memory had told her. from his broad forehead to his square, resolute chin and smiling, trustful mouth, he was all she could have hoped. she felt her carefully nurtured distrust melting and strove to call it back.
“yes,” she answered, with a sudden catch of her breath. “yes. better.”
“that’s good.” jack pushed back his hat and wiped away the perspiration that stood upon his[108] brow. “you are not much hurt, really,” he went on. “the bullet cut the artery of your leg and you lost a whole lot of blood; in fact, you were pretty nearly drained dry before i could stop it. except for that it didn’t do much harm, and as soon as you get back your strength you’ll be up and about.”
the girl nodded slowly. “you are very good,” she said.
jack shrugged away her comment. “i didn’t know where you were going,” he insinuated, “or how you came to be where you were, but i couldn’t stop, and of course i couldn’t leave you, so i just bundled you into the wagon and brought you along. i was bound for wapakoneta but i’ve had to turn off to fort wayne instead, so that’s where we’re going. i hope it meets your approval.” he ended with a smile.
the girl understood that she was being questioned. she had determined what to say and she answered quickly, in fairly good english, noticing that williams was listening as she spoke. “i come from wapakoneta!”
jack stared. “you mean you lived there with the indians?”
“for many moons i have lived there. i know no other life but that.”
“you were a prisoner?”
“prisoner! no! yes! perhaps you call it so.[109] i think the shawnees carry me away from somewhere when i am a child. i have lived with them ever since. they were good to me. i travel the long trail south with the chief wilwiloway when that wicked white man kill him.”
jack’s face darkened. “it was a brutal murder,” he said, sharply, glancing at williams. “it shall be punished. but what is your name? where do your friends live? where do you want to go?”
the girl shook her head. “i do not know what my name was before i came to the shawnees,” she answered, slowly. “the indians call me bobapanawe.”
“bobapanawe. that means ‘lightning,’ doesn’t it?” jack laughed. “it suits you all right, but i’m afraid it’s too much of a mouthful. i’ll call you bob, if you don’t object. i suppose you don’t know anything about your friends?”
the girl shook her head. “i have no friends except among the shawnees,” she answered. “perhaps i had better go back to them.” as she spoke she half closed her eyes, but through her long, curling eyelashes she watched jack’s face.
“go back to the indians! great scott! you can’t do that.”
“but where then shall i go?”
“well——” jack scratched his head—“we’ll have to think about that. maybe we’ll be able to[110] find out something about your people when we get to fort wayne.”
the wagon had been moving slower and slower, the tired mules showing little desire to hasten. as jack finished speaking they stopped short, and williams turned around.
“say!” he said. “these mules are plumb wore out. we got to stop unless you want to kill ’em.”
jack rode to the front of the wagon and stared ahead through the dimming corridors of coming night. all afternoon the wagon had been moving through a deepening gloom, and now the darkness seemed to have shut down. one single patch of blue sky, far ahead, told where the road came out for a moment on the bank of the river, and showed that the sun had not yet set.
“there seems to be an opening a couple of hundred yards ahead,” he said. “we’ll stop there. drive on if you can.”
williams cracked the whip and shouted, but the tired mules refused to respond, until cato came forward.
“dat ain’t no way to treat a mule, massa,” he said. “lemme try what i can do, massa, please do, suh.”
williams flung down the reins and jumped from the wagon to the ground. anger and fear had sadly frayed his temper. “try what you d— please,” he growled, and walked ahead, leaving cato to coax[111] the mules to a fresh effort that brought the wagon at last to the spot that jack had selected.
as the wagon stopped, jack went to the back. “come out, youngster,” he ordered, kindly. “it’ll do you good to stand and move about a little.” he held out his arms as he spoke.
but the girl shrank back. “i can get out alone,” she faltered.
jack grinned. “all right!” he agreed, cheerfully. “try it if you like. i’ll catch you if you fall.” he stood back and waited.
cautiously the girl clambered out and down. she reached the ground safely, but as her weight came upon her wounded leg, she tottered and would have fallen if jack had not caught her and held her up, while the swimming world spun round.
her pride vanished and she clung to him desperately, feeling again the curious sense of safety that she had felt when he had held her a few hours before. she clung fast until the rush of blood to her temples quieted; then, as she straightened herself, she heard jack’s voice.
“bravo!” he cried. “you’re doing fine. just a step or two—a step or two. there! that’s it.” she felt herself lowered to a seat upon a great limestone boulder that protruded from the mold close against a big tree. “how does your wound feel now?”
“good!” the girl stretched her leg cautiously.
[112]“i guess i’d better not disturb the dressings tonight,” went on the boy, doubtfully. “i did the best i could this morning, and it would probably do more harm than good to fool with them. what do you think.”
“wound does very well.” not for worlds would alagwa have submitted it to his inspection.
jack slipped away and the girl leaned back against the tree and looked about her curiously. the outer world, dark as it was with the shadows of coming night, looked good to her after the long hours she had spent in the gloom of the wagon. fresh blood was filling her veins and her spirits were reviving. she had not forgotten wilwiloway and his cruel murder, but her memory had been blurred both by weakness and by the rush of new sensations.
the spot, though by no means ideal for a camp, was probably the best that the region afforded. it was on a low ridge or dune of sand, part of an ancient beach heaped up when lake erie spread far beyond its modern bounds. it stood three or four feet instead of only as many inches above the sluggish river. on the near bank a giant oak, undermined by the stream through uncounted years, had toppled sideways until its branches swept the dark water. the sunlight had slipped in along the slit made by the river and had rested on the mold, stirring it to life. for a hundred feet or[113] more a thick mat of pea-vines and annis grass bordered the stream, and toward these the tired mules were straining, even while cato was loosening their harness. close beneath the leaning tree jack was kindling a fire, small, after the indian fashion, but sufficient for their needs. williams was chopping down some bushes that had found lodgment on either side of the tree. no one was paying any attention to alagwa.
later, however, after cato, who like most of his race was a born cook, had prepared the supper of wild turkey and fat bacon and cornpone, jack glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. then he called to cato: “fetch the grub over here, cato,” he ordered, pointing to the great boulder on which the girl sat. “this stone will do for a table.”
alagwa’s heart warmed. instinctively she knew that he had chosen the supper place for her convenience.
night came on while they were eating. the red tints that stretched up from the west faded to palest gray. closer and closer in drew the forest till it seemed to press like a wall upon the little band, blotting out their forms and leaving only the dim glimmer of their pale faces. cato’s darker skin it hid altogether. beneath the leaning trees the dying fire glowed like a red eye. to the south the strip of water reflected what little light was left.
[114]with the closing in of the night the four grew very still, thinking their own thoughts and dreaming their own dreams.
jack was pondering on his mission to tecumseh and on his failure to reach the indian chief. had he done right, he wondered, to quit his chosen trail, especially in view of brito telfair’s appearance on the scene? could not williams and his ammunition have reached fort wayne in safety without his aid? would rogers be able to do anything? suppose he should never find this kinswoman of his? suppose she lost her life by reason of his delay? for a moment his turning aside looked to him unnecessary, ridiculous, quixotic. then he set his teeth. no! he had done right. fort wayne was of enormous importance to the country; on its holding might depend the safety of the whole northwest. the government had been mad to send ammunition without adequate escort through a possibly hostile country, but the madness of the government did not excuse him from doing what he could to retrieve the blunder and to stop the frightful consequences that might easily result from the murder of the shawnee.
williams had been moving uneasily; he had had time to meditate on his position, and he had lost much of his confidence. abruptly he spoke. “say!” he said. “can’t we fix this thing up before we get to fort wayne? ’spose i did do wrong[115] in shootin’ that injun? ’spose he did make a peace sign? i’d didn’t know it. he jumped outer those bushes and flung up his hand an’ i thought he was goin’ to jump us, an’ i banged loose without stoppin’ to think. it was my fault. i’ll own up. but it’s done an’ can’t be undone. what’s the use of stirrin’ things up?”
jack did not answer for a time. at last he spoke slowly, with the uncompromising severity of youth. “you committed a wanton murder,” he said, “a murder that caused the death of two men. it may be that you will get off scot free, considering the state of affairs. i rather think you will. but if you do, i tell you frankly it will be by no aid of mine. now, you and cato had better lie down and get some sleep. it’s late and we must start early tomorrow. i’ll keep watch.”
williams obeyed promptly, though surlily, slouching off to his blanket beneath the great leaning tree.
alagwa stared after him. “will you not tie him?” she asked, incredulously.
jack chuckled. “not i,” he said. “if he wants to slip away in the night, let him. it would save me some trouble. go to bed, cato.”
cato, however, demurred. “ain’t you goin’ to let me help you watch, mars’ jack?” he questioned.
jack looked at him and grinned. “think you[116] can keep awake, cato?” he asked. “sure you won’t get to thinking about mandy or sue and go to sleep?”
“now, mars’ jack, you knows mighty well——”
“i know mighty well you’ll do your best, cato. go lie down, now. i’ll call you at midnight and let you keep the midwatch.”
when cato had bedded himself down not far from williams, jack turned to alagwa. “are you ready for bed, youngster?” he asked. “if you’re not too sleepy, i’d like to ask you a few questions.”
alagwa’s heart fluttered. what did he want, this wonderful white man, this stranger who was yet a kinsman, this enemy with the friendly blue eyes? “i am not sleepy,” she faltered.
“i won’t keep you up long. you know tecumseh, of course?”
somehow the girl felt disappointed. “yes,” she said. “i know him.”
“then,” jack hesitated, “do you know a white girl that has grown up in his lodge—a girl a little older than yourself, i reckon. her father died and left her with him about ten years ago. do you know her?”
what possessed alagwa, she never knew. perhaps it was merely the eternal feminine instinct to mislead the male. almost without hesitation she answered. “yes,” she said, slowly. “i have see her,[117] but men do not associate with squaws. i see her little.”
“what does she look like?”
the girl shrugged her shoulders. “she is dark, very dark, darker than the indians,” she said. “she has black eyes and square face. i not know she is white till some one tell me. she look like a shawnee.”
jack’s face fell. “oh! i say!” he exclaimed. “that’s too bad. i was told that she was very pretty.”
the girl’s lip curled. “you not like her unless she is pretty?” she questioned, scornfully.
jack laughed. “of course, i’ll like her whether she is pretty or not,” he answered. “she is a cousin of mine, and i’ll like her whatever she looks like. do you know where she is now?”
alagwa hesitated. “i see her yesterday at wapakoneta,” she answered.
“you did! then tecumseh did not take her with him?”
“no, tecumseh took only warriors. women do not go on the warpath. why do you seek her?”
the night had grown lighter. a silvery glimmer, resting on the tops of the trees above the river, showed that the moon was mounting. against the sky the nearer branches waved gently, ebony laced on silver. stray moonbeams spotted the lower branches.
[118]jack stared at the mirror-like water for some time before he answered. at last, quite simply, he told the story. “you see, it’s a point of honor,” he finished. “our branch is bound to help her branch, when need arises, just as indian clan-brothers must help each other—a wolf a wolf, and a panther a panther. the telfairs were a great house in france in their day, and this girl has great lands there. it is my duty to see that she comes to her own.”
“but—but you do not seek her. you turn away and leave her.”
“don’t i know it?” jack’s tones were desperate. “when i think—but i can’t help it. there are five thousand white women and children along this frontier whose lives might pay the forfeit if fort wayne should fall. and without the ammunition in this wagon—oh! i’ve been over the problem again and again and there’s only one answer. i’ve got to get this wagon to fort wayne first and look for the girl afterwards. as soon as i have done that i will go back to hunt for her. meanwhile i’ve sent word to colonel johnson and i’ve commissioned tom rogers to help him.”
feeling, strong and intense, spoke in the boy’s tones. alagwa could not mistake it. a sudden intense desire for his friendship possessed her. she wanted—oh! how she wanted to be cared for by one[119] of her blood. “and—and what of me?” she faltered.
“you?” the sudden turn in the talk took jack by surprise. “you? why? i reckon we’ll learn something about your friends at fort wayne and——”
“no! no! i have no friends.” the girl’s tones were full of tears.
jack put out his hand quickly. “yes, you have, you poor little devil,” he declared. “you’ve got one friend, anyhow. i’ll see that you’re provided for, whatever comes!”
alagwa shook off his hand. “i will not stay alone in the white man’s camp,” she protested. “they are all liars and robbers and murderers. i hate them, hate them, hate them.”
“poor little chap!” jack reached out his arms and drew the girl toward him. for a moment she hung back, then her head dropped upon his breast and she began to sob softly.
jack let her cry on. always he had despised boys who cried, and alagwa was bigger than any boy he had ever seen with tears in his eyes. yet, somehow, he felt only pity for her.
“poor little chap,” he murmured again. “you’ve had an awful day of it, haven’t you? you ought to be asleep this very moment instead of sitting up here talking to a chump like me. come! let me help[120] you into the wagon.” he rose, drawing the girl to her feet beside him. “come,” he repeated.
but alagwa held back. “you—you will not leave me at fort wayne?” she begged. “you will take me with you. i—i can help you find the girl.”
jack started. “by jove! so you can!” he exclaimed. “all right. we’ll leave it so. if we don’t find your friends you shall stay with me. now you must go to bed and to sleep.”
