Movatterモバイル変換

Author of "In the Tennessee Mountains," "The Prophet of theGreat Smoky Mountains," etc., etc.

Illustrations

The Story of Old Fort Loudon

CHAPTER I

Along the buffalo paths, from one salt-lick to another, a group ofpioneers took a vagrant way through the dense cane-brakes. Never a wheelhad then entered the deep forests of this western wilderness; thefrontiersman and the packhorse were comrades. Dark, gloomy, with long,level summit-lines, a grim outlier of the mountain range, since known asthe Cumberland, stretched from northeast to southwest, seeming as theyapproached to interpose an insurmountable barrier to further progress,until suddenly, as in the miracle of a dream, the craggy wooded heightsshowed a gap, cloven to the heart of the steeps, opening out their pathas through some splendid gateway, and promising deliverance, a new life,and a new and beautiful land. For beyond the darkling cliffs on eitherhand an illuminated vista stretched in every lengthening perspective,with softly nestling[2] sheltered valleys, and parallel lines of distantazure mountains, and many a mile of level woodland high on an elevatedplateau, all bedight in the lingering flare of the yellow, and deep red,and sere brown of late autumn, and all suffused with an opaline haze andthe rich, sweet languors of sunset-tide on an Indian-summer day.

As that enchanted perspective opened to the view, a sudden joyousexclamation rang out on the still air. The next moment a woman, walkingbeside one of the packhorses, clapped both hands over her lips, andturning looked with apprehensive eyes at the two men who followed her.The one in advance cast at her a glance of keen reproach, and then thewhole party paused and with tense attention bent every faculty tolisten.

Silence could hardly have been more profound. The regular respiration ofthe two horses suggested sound. But the wind did not stir; the growthsof the limitless cane-brakes in the valley showed no slight quiver inthe delicately poised fibers of their brown feathery crests; the haze,all shot through with glimmers of gold in its gauzy gray folds, restedon the mute woods; the suave sky hung above the purple western heightswithout a breath. No suggestion of motion in all the landscape, save thesudden melting away of a flake of vermilion cloud in a faintly greenexpanse of the crystal heavens.[3]

The elder man dropped his hand, that had been raised to impose silence,and lifted his eyes from the ground. "I cannot be rid of the idea thatwe are followed," he said. "But I hear nothing."

Although the eldest of the group, he was still young,—twenty-five,perhaps. He was tall, strong, alert, with a narrow, long face; dark,slow eyes, that had a serious, steadfast expression; dark brown hair,braided in the queue often discarded by the hunters of this day. Acertain staid, cautious sobriety of manner hardly assorted with therough-and-ready import of his garb and the adventurous place and time.Both he and the younger man, who was in fact a mere boy not yetseventeen, but tall, muscular, sinewy,—stringy, one might say,—ofbuild, were dressed alike in loose hunting-shirts of buckskin, heavilyfringed, less for the sake of ornament than the handiness of a selectionof thongs always ready to be detached for use; for the same reason thedeerskin leggings, reaching to the thighs over the knee-breeches andlong stockings of that day, were also furnished with these substantialfringes; shot-pouch and powder-horn were suspended from a leather belt,and on the other side a knife-hilt gleamed close to the body. Both worecoonskin caps, but that of the younger preserved the tail to hang downlike a plume among his glossy brown tangles of curls, which, but[4] for abit of restraining ribbon, resisted all semblance to the gentility of aqueue. The boy was like his brother in the clear complexion and thecolor of the dark eyes and hair, but the expression of his eyes waswild, alert, and although fired with the earnest ardor of first youth,they had certain roguish intimations, subdued now since they were stilland seriously expectant, but which gave token how acceptably he couldplay that cherishedrôle, to a secluded and isolated fireside, offamily buffoon, and make gay mirth for the applause of thechimney-corner. The brothers were both shod with deerskin buskins, butthe other two of the party wore the shoe of civilization,—one abrodequin, that despite its rough and substantial materials could butreflect a grace from the dainty foot within it; the other showed thestubby shapes deemed meet for the early stages of the long tramp oflife. The little girl's shoes were hardly more in evidence than themother's, for the skirts of children were worn long, and only now andthen was betrayed a facetious skip of some active toes in the bluntfoot-gear. Their dresses were of the same material, a heavy gray serge,which fact gave the little one much satisfaction, for she consideredthat it made them resemble the cow and calf—both great personages inher mind. But she flattered herself; her aspect in the straight, shortbodice that enclosed her[5] stout little rotund figure, and the quaintwhite mob-cap that encircled her chubby, roseate face, all smiles, andindeterminate nose, and expanded, laughing, red mouth, and white,glittering, irregular teeth, had little in common with the mother whomshe admired and imitated, and but for the remnant of the elder's stuffgown, of which her own was fashioned, the comparison with the cow andcalf would have failed altogether. She was not even a good imitator ofthe maternal methods. Of course the days of her own infancy, recentthough they were, had long been lost to her limited memory, and a tokenof the length of time that they had dwelt in the wilderness, and theimpressions her juvenile faculties had received therefrom might havebeen given by the fact that her doll was reared after pappoose fashion;on her back was slung a basket in the manner of the peripatetic cradleof the Indian women, and from this protruded the head and the widelyopen eyes of a cat slightly past kittenhood, that was adapting itspreferences to the conditions of the journey with a discretion whichmight argue an extension of the powers of instinct in pioneeranimals,—a claim which has often been advanced.

The cat evidently realized the fact that it was a domesticated creature,that naught was possible for it in these strange woods but speedydestruction by savage beast or man, and that decorous sub[6]mission becamea cat promoted to the estate of a juvenile settler's baby. The cat wasas silent and as motionless during the halt as the rest of the party,looking out watchfully over the shoulder of the little three-year-old,who, with perfect and mute trust, and great, serene eyes, gazed up atthe face of her father, nothing doubting his infinite puissance andwillingness to take care of her. When he spoke and the tension was over,she began to skip once more, the jostled cat putting out her claws tohold to the wicker-work of her basket; the two had ridden most of theday on one of the packhorses, their trifling weight adding but little tothe burden of the scanty store of clothing and bedding, the cooking andfarming utensils, the precious frying-pan and skillet, the invaluableaxe, hand-saw, auger, and hoe,—the lares and penates of the pioneer.There were some surveying-instruments, too, and in the momentaryrelaxation of suspense the elder of the brothers consulted a compass, ashe had done more than once that day.

"I thought I heard something," said the boy, shouldering his rifle andturning westward, "but I couldn't say what."

"Ah,quelle barbarie!" exclaimed the woman, with a sigh, halfpetulance, half relief.

She seemed less the kind of timber that was to build up the greatstructure of western civilization[7] than did the others,—all unfittedfor its hardships and privation and labor. Her gray serge gown was wornwith a sort of subtle elegance hardly discounted by the plainness of thematerial and make. The long, pointed waist accented the slender grace ofher figure; the skirt had folds clustered on the hips that gave a sortof fullness to the drapery and suggested the charm of elaborate costume.She wore a hood on her head,—a large calash, which had a curtain thathung about her shoulders. This was a dark red, of the tint called Indianred, and as she pushed it back and turned her face, realizing that theinterval of watching was over, the fairness of her complexion, thebeauty of her dark, liquid eyes, the suggestion of her well-ordered,rich brown hair above her high forehead, almost regal in its noble cast,the perfection of the details of her simple dress, all seemed infinitelyincongruous with her estate as a poor settler's wife, and the fact thatsince dawn and for days past she had, with the little all she possessed,fled from the pursuit of savage Indians. She returned with a severeglance the laughing grimace of the boy, with which, despite his own fearbut a moment ago, he had, in the mobility of the moods of youth,decorated his countenance.

"If it were not for you, Hamish," she said to him, "I should not be soterrified. I have seen Indians many a time,—yes,—and when they were[8]on the war-path, too. But to add to their fury by an act of defiance onour part! It is fatal—they have only to overtake us."

"What was I to do, Odalie?" said Hamish MacLeod, suddenly grave, andexcitedly justifying himself. "There was that red Injun, as still as astump. I thought he was a stump—it was nearly dark. And I heard thewild turkey gobbling,—you heard it yourself, you sent me out to get itfor supper,—you said that one more meal on buffalo meat would be thedeath of you,—and it was nearly dark,—and—gobble—gobble—gobble—soappetizing. I can hear it yet."

With an expression of terror she caught suddenly at his hand as hewalked beside her, but he petulantly pulled away.

"I meanin my mind, Odalie,—I hear it nowin my mind. And all of asudden it came to me that it was that stump up on the slope that wasgobbling so cheerful, and gobbling me along into gunshot.[1] And justthen I was in rifle range, and I fired at the same minute that the stumpfired, or the turkey, whichever you choose to call him—What is thereason, Sandy, that Injuns are so apt to load with too little powder?"he broke off, speaking to his brother. "The turkey shot straight—hisball dropped spent just at my feet."

"Quelle barbarie!" exclaimed Mrs. MacLeod,[9] catching his handagain—this time to give it a little squeeze—impressed with theimminence of the boy's danger and their loss.

But Hamish was quite as independent of caresses and approval as ofrebuke, and he carelessly twisted his hand away from his sister-in-lawas he cocked his head to one side to hear the more experienced hunter'sreply.

"Because their powder is so precious, and scant, and hard to come by,they economize it," said Alexander MacLeod, as he trudged along behindthe packhorses, guarding the rear of his little party with his rifle onhis shoulder.

"The turkey would better have economized his meat this time," said theboy, swinging round his belt to lift the lid of his powder-horn and peepgloatingly in at the reinforced stores. "He was economical with hispowder, but extravagant with his life; for that turkey will gobble nomore."

He gobbled a brisk and agitated imitation of the cry of the fowl, andthen broke off to exclaim, "Quelle barbarie!—eh, Odalie?"

He looked at his sister-in-law with a roguish eye, as he travestied thetone and manner of her favorite ejaculation, which he was wont to callthe "family oath." For indeed they had all come to make use of thephrase, in their varying accent, to express their disaffection with theordering of[10] events, or the conduct of one another, or the provokingmischance of inanimate objects,—as the gun's hanging fire, or thereluctance of a spark to kindle from flint to make their camp-fire, orthe overturning of a pot of buffalo soup, or bear stew, when thefamished fugitives were ready to partake in reality of the feast whichtheir olfactory nerves and eyes had already begun. Even the little girlwould exclaim, "Quelle barbarie!" when thorns caught her skirts andheld her prisoner as she had skipped along so low down among thebrambles and dense high cane, that one must needs wonder at thesmallness of Empire, as expressed in her personality and funny cap,taking its westward way. "Quelle barbarie!" too, when the cat'sculture in elegant manners required of maternal solicitude a smart boxon the ear. And if the cat did not say "Quelle barbarie!" with anapproved French accent, we all know that she thought it.

"So much better for the soul's health than swearing," Hamish was wont tosay, when Odalie showed signs of considering the phrase a bit ofridicule of her and her Frenchy forbears.

Her grandfather had been a Huguenot refugee, driven out of his countryby the religious persecution about the time of the Revocation of theEdict of Nantes, seventy odd years previously. Her father had prosperedbut indifferently in the more[11] civilized section of the New World, andhad died early. There his daughter had met her young Scotchman, who waspiqued by her dainty disdain of his French accent, which MacLeod hadrecklessly placed on exhibition, and was always seeking to redeem theimpression, finally feeling that he must needs improve it by having aperfect Mentor at hand. He had brought from the land of his birth, whichhe had quitted in early years, but few distinctive local expressions,yet a certain burr clung to his speech, and combined as incongruously asmight be with his French accent. She evidently considered the latterincurable, intolerable, and always eyed him, when he spoke in thatlanguage, with ostentatious wonder that such verbal atrocities could be,and murmured gently in lieu of reply—"Quelle barbarie!" He found hisrevenge in repeating a similar slogan, one that had often been as asupplement to this more usual phrase,—"Partons pour la Franceaujourd'hui, pour l'amour de Dieu!" It had been urged by hergrandmother in moments of depression, and Odalie, born and reared in theroyal province of South Carolina, had always the logic and grace towince at this ungrateful aspiration to return to France,—the dearFrance that had been so much too hot to hold them. For the family hadrejoiced to escape thence with their lives, even at the forfeiture ofall that they possessed.[12]

This jesting warfare of words had become established in the MacLeodhousehold, and often recurred, sometimes with a trifle of acrimony.Little they thought how significant it was to be and how it should servethem in their future lives.

The sun was going down. Far, far purple mountains, that they might neverhave seen but for that great clifty gateway, were bathed in the glory ofthe last red suffusion of the west; the evening star of an unparalleledwhiteness pulsated in the amber-tinted lucidity of the sky. Thefragrance of the autumn woods was more marked on the dank night air. Onecould smell the rich mould along a watercourse near at hand, the branchfrom a spring bubbling up in the solid rock hard by. Odalie had seatedherself on the horizontal ledge at the base of one of the crags and hadthrown back her hood, against which her head rested. Her large eyes weresoft and lustrous, but pensive and weary.

"Rest, Odalie, while Hamish and I make the fire, and then you can fixthe things for supper," her husband admonished her.

It was the first time that they had halted that day, and dinner had beenbut the fragments of breakfast eaten while on the march. There had beena sudden outbreak of the Cherokee Indians which had driven them from themore frequented way where they feared pursuit,—this, and the fate ofthe brave[13] who had sought to lure Hamish to his death last night withthe mimicry of the gobbler, and was killed in consequence himself. Theycould not judge whether he had been alone or one of a party; whether hisbody might be discovered and his death avenged by the death or captureof them all; whether he had been a scout, thrown out to discover thedirection they took, and his natural blood-thirstiness had overmasteredhis instructions, and he must needs seek to kill the boy before hisreturn with his news.

With this more recent fear that they were followed they had not to-daydared to build a fire lest its smoke betray to the crafty observation ofthe Indians, although at a great distance, their presence in this remotequarter of the wilderness, far even from the Indian war-path, that,striking down the valley between the Cumberland range and the easternmountains, was then not only the road that the Indians followed tobattle, but the highway of traffic and travel, the only recognized andknown path leading from the Cherokee settlements south of the TennesseeRiver through this great uninhabited park or hunting-ground to theregions of other Indian tribes on the Scioto and to Western Virginia.Now, however, rest and refreshment were necessary; even more imperativewas the need of a fire as a protection to the camp against theen[14]croachments of wild beasts; for wolves were plentiful and roamed thenight-bound earth, and the active panther, the great American cougar,was wont to look down from the branches of overhanging trees. The horseswere not safe beyond the flare of the flames, to say nothing of wife andchild. Therefore the risk of attracting observation from Indians must berun, especially since it was abated by the descending dusk. The littletreacherous smoke escaping from the forest to curl against the blue skyneed not be feared at night. The darkness would hide all from adistance; as to foes lurking nearer at hand, why, if any such therewere, then their fate was already upon them. With the stout heart of thepioneer, Alexander MacLeod heaped the fagots upon the ground and struckthe flint and steel together after giving the officious little Josephinea chance to try her luck with the tinder. Soon the dry dead wood wastimidly ablaze, while Hamish led the horses to the water and picketedthem out.

Odalie's eyes followed the boy with a sort of belated yet painfulanxiety, thinking how near he had been to parting with that stanch youngspirit, and what a bereavement would have been the loss of that blitheelement from their daily lives.

Perhaps her husband realized her fatigue and depression and was willingto put his French accent on parade for her amusement; perhaps it was forthe sake of the old flouting retort; he theatrically rejoined withoutlooking up, "Partons pour la France aujourd'hui, pour l'amour deDieu."

And Josephine, taking the cat out of its basket and kissing its whiskersand the top of its head, was condoling with it on its longrestraint:—"Quelle barbarie, ma poupée, quelle barbarie, ma doucemignonne," she poutingly babbled.

Alexander MacLeod paused to listen to this affectionate motherlydiscourse; then glanced up at his wife with a smile, to call herattention to it.

She had not moved. She had turned to stone. It seemed as if she couldnever move again. A waving blotch of red sumach leaves in a niche in thedark wall of the crag hard by had caught her notice. A waving blotch ofred leaves in the autumnal dusk,—what more natural?

There was no wind. How could the bough stir? There was no bough. Theblotch of color was the red and black of a hideous painted face that inthe dusk, the treacherous dusk, had approached very near and struck herdumb and turned her to stone. It had approached so near that she couldsee its expression change as the sound of the words[16] spoken about thefireside arose on the air. Her mental faculties were rallying from thetorpor which still paralyzed her physical being; she understood thereason for this facial change, and by a mighty effort of the willsummoned all her powers to avail herself of it.

Alexander MacLeod, glancing up with a casual laugh on his face, wasalmost stunned to see a full-armed and painted Cherokee rise up suddenlyfrom among the bushes about the foot of the cliff. Standing distinctlyoutlined against the softly tinted mountain landscape, which wasopalescent in its illumined hues, faint and fading, and extending hishand with a motion of inquiry toward Odalie, the savage demanded in alordly tone,—"Flinch? Flanzy?"

As in a dream MacLeod beheld her, nodding her head in silentacquiescence,—as easily as she might were she humming a tune and hardlycared to desist from melody for words. She could not speak!

The Cherokee, his face smeared with vermilion, with a great white circlearound one eye and a great black circle around the other, looked notill-pleased, yet baffled for a moment. "Me no talk him," he observed.

He had never heard of Babel, poor soul, but he was as subject to theinconvenience of the confusion of tongues as if he had had an activeshare in the[17] sacrilegious industry of those ambitious architects whobuilded in the plains of Shinar.

"Him?" said the Cherokee, "and him?" pointing at Alexander and then atHamish—at Hamish, with his recollection of that dead Indian, aCherokee, lying, face downward, somewhere there to the northward underthe dark trees, his blood crying aloud for the ferocious reprisal inwhich his tribe were wont to glut their vengeance.

The Indian gazed upon her doubtfully. He had evidently only a fewdisconnected sentences of English at command, although he understood farmore than he could frame, but he could merely discern and distinguishthe sound of the admired "Flanzy." Odalie realized with a shiver that itwas only this trifle that had preserved the lives of the whole party.For even previous to the present outbreak and despite the stipulationsof their treaties with the English, the Cherokees were known to havehesitated long in taking sides in the struggle between France and GreatBritain, still in progress now in 1758, for supremacy in this westerncountry, and many were suspected of yet inclining to the French, who hadmade great efforts to detach them from the British interest.

"To Choté, old town," she averred at haphazard, naming the famous"beloved town,[2]city of refuge," of the Cherokee nation.

He nodded gravely. "I go Choté,—travel with white man," he remarked,still watchful-eyed.

The shadows were deepening; the flames had revealed other dark figures,eight braves at the heels of the spokesman, all painted, all armed, allvisibly mollified by the aspect that the dialogue had taken on,—that ofan interpreting female for a French husband.

The Cherokee listened intently, his blanket drawn up close around hisears, as if thus shrouded he took counsel of his own identity. Thegarment was one of those so curiously woven of the lustrous feathers ofwild-fowl that the texture had a rich tufted aspect. This lostmanufacture of the Cherokee Indians has been described by a traveler inthat region in 1730 as resembling a "fine flowered silk shag."

But the tone was one of satisfaction. The buy[19]ing and shipping of peltrywas at that date a most lucrative business, furs bearing a high price inall the markets of the world, and this region bade fair to be one of thelarge sources of supply. The Indians profited by selling them, and this,too, was the magnet that was beginning to draw the hardy Carolinahunters westward, despite the hazards. At no other industry elsewherecould commensurate sums of money be earned without outlay beyond a rifleand ammunition and a hunter's cheap lodgement and fare. The Indiansearly developed a dependence on the supplies of civilization,—guns,ammunition, knives, tools, paints, to say nothing of fire-water, quicklydemonstrating their superiority to primitive inventions, and thistraffic soon took on most prosperous proportions. Thus, although theCherokees resented the presence of the white man upon theirhunting-ground in the capacity of competitor, and still more ofcolonist, they were very tolerant of his entrance into their towns andpeaceful residence there as buyer and shipper—one of the earliestexpressions of middleman in the West—of the spoils of the chase, thetrophies of the Indian's skill in woodcraft. Although the Britishgovernment, through treaties with the Cherokees, sought a monopoly ofthis traffic as a means of controlling them by furnishing or withholdingtheir necessities as their conduct toward the[20] English colonists on thefrontier might render judicious, many of the earlier of these traderswere French—indeed one of the name of Charleville was engaged in suchcommerce on the present site of the city of Nashville as early as theyear 1714, his base of supplies being in Louisiana, altogetherindependent of the English, as he was then one of the traders of AntoineCrozat, under the extensive charter of that enterprising speculator.

The French had exerted all their suavest arts of ingratiation with theCherokees, and as the Indians were now on the point of breaking out intoopen enmity against the English, the idea of a French trader in furs,which Odalie had suggested, was so acceptable to the Cherokee scheme ofthings, that for the time all doubt and suspicion vanished from thesavage's mind. Vanished so completely, in fact, that within thehalf-hour the chief was seated with the family-party beside theircamp-fire and sharing their supper, and the great Willinawaugh, withevery restraint of pride broken down, with characteristic reserve castto the winds, speaking to the supposed Frenchman, Alexander MacLeod, asto a brother, was detailing with the utmost frankness and ferocity thestory of the treatment of the Indians by the Virginians, their allies,in the late expedition against Fort Duquesne. The Cherokees had marchedthither to join General Forbes's army,[21] agreeably to their treaty withthe English, by which, in consideration of the building of a fort withinthe domain of their nation to afford them protection against theirIndian enemies and the French, now the enemies of their English allies,and to shelter their old men and women and children during such absencesof the warriors of the tribe, they had agreed to take up arms under theBritish flag whenever they were so required. And this the Cherokees haddone.

Then his painted, high-cheek-boned face grew rigid with excitement, andthe eagle feathers bound to his scalp-lock quivered in the light of thefire as he told of the result. His braves hovered near to hear, nowcatching the broad flare of the flames on their stalwart, erect formsand flashing fire-locks, now obscured in the fluctuating shadow. Thepale-faced group listened, too, scarcely moving a muscle, for by longfamiliarity with the sound, they understood something of the generaldrift of the Cherokee language, which, barring a few phrases, they couldnot speak.

There had been only a very bloody skirmish,—since known as "Grant'sdefeat,"—but no fight at Fort Duquesne, not even a formal defence ofthe works. The French had surely forgotten General Braddock! They hadforgotten the fleeing red-coatedUnaka [A] soldiers who, three yearsbefore, had[22]been beaten near there with such terrible slaughter, andtheir chief warrior, the great Braddock, himself, had been tamed bydeath—the only foe that could tame him!—and lay now somewhere in thoseeastern woods. He pointed vaguely with his hand as he spoke, forBraddock's grave had been left unmarked, in the middle of the militaryroad, in order that, passing over it without suspicion, it might not berifled and desecrated by those savage Indians who had fought with suchfurious efficiency in the French interest.[3]

To the warlike Cherokee the event of a battle was not paramount. Victoryor defeat they realized was often the result of fortuitous circumstance.Courage was their passion. "We cannot live without war," was theirofficial reply to an effort on the part of the government to mediatebetween them and another tribe, the Tuscaroras, their hereditaryenemies.

But upon this second attempt on Fort Duquesne the British had only toplant their flag, and repair the dismantled works, and change the nameto Fort Pitt. For in the night the French had abandoned and fired thestronghold, and finally made their escape down the Ohio River. In allgood faith, however, the Cherokees had marched thither to help the[23]Virginians defend their frontier,—far away from home! So far, that thehorses of a few of the warriors had given out, and finding some horsesrunning wild as they came on their homeward way through the westernregion of Virginia, these braves appropriated the animals for thetoilsome march of so many hundred miles, meaning no harm; whereupon aband of Virginians fell upon these Cherokees, their allies, and killedthem! And his voice trembled with rage as he rehearsed it.

For all her address Odalie could not sustain herrôle. She uttered alow moan and put her hand before her eyes. For he had not entered uponthe sequel,—a sequel that she knew well;—the sudden summaryretaliation of the Cherokees upon the defenseless settlers in the regioncontiguous to the line of march of the returning warriors,—blood forblood is the invariable Cherokee rule!

Never, never could she forget the little cabin on the west side of NewRiver where she and her adventurous husband had settled on the Virginiafrontier not far from other adventurous and scattered pioneers. They hadthought themselves safe enough; many people in these days of the westernadvance relied on the community strength of a small station, wellstockaded, with the few settlers in the cabins surrounded by thepalisades; others, and this family of the number, felt it sufficientprotection to be[24] within the sound of a signal gun from a neighboringhouse. But the infuriated homeward-bound Cherokees fell on the first ofthese cabins that lay in their way, massacred the inmates, and marchedon in straggling blood-thirsty bands, burning and slaying as they went.So few were the settlers in that region that there was no hope inuniting for defense. They fled wildly in scattered groups, and thislittle household found itself in the untried, unfrequented region westof the great Indian trail, meditating here a temporary encampment, untilthe aggrieved Cherokees on their homeward march should all have passeddown the "Warrior's Path" to their far-away settlements south of theTennessee River. Then, the way being clear, the fugitives hoped toretrace their journey, cross New River and regain the more easternsection of Virginia. Meantime they were slipping like shadows throughthe dark night into the great unknown realms of this uninhabitedsouthwestern wilderness, itself a land of shadow, of dreams, of thevague unreality of mere rumor. Some intimation of their flight must havebeen given, for following their trail had skulked the Indian whom Hamishhad killed,—a spy doubtless, the forerunner of these Cherokees, who,but for thinking them French, would have let out their spirits into thetruly unknown, by way of that great mountain pass opening on an unknownworld. If the savages but dreamed[25] of the fate that had befallen theirscout!—she hardly dared look at Hamish when she thought of the deadIndian, lest her thought be read.

She wondered what had become of her neighbors; where had they gone, andhow had they fared, and where was she herself going in this journey toChoté,—a name, a mere name, heard by chance, and repeated at haphazard,to which she had committed the future.

This fresh anxiety served to renew her attention. Willinawaugh, stillrehearsing the griefs of his people, and the perfidy, as he construedit, of the government, was detailing the perverse distortion of theEnglish compliance with their treaty to erect a great defensive work inthe Cherokee nation—the heart of the nation—to aid them in their warson Indian enemies, and to protect their country and the non-combatantswhen the warriors should be absent in the service of their allies, theEnglish. Such a work had the government indeed erected, on the southbank of the Tennessee River, mounted with twelve great cannon, not fivemiles from Choté, old town, and there, one hundred and fifty miles inadvance of Anglo-American civilization, lay within it now the garrisonof two hundred English soldiers!

Odalie's heart gave a great bound! She felt already safe. To be underthe protection of British cannon once more! To listen to an Englishvoice![26] Her brain was a-whirl. She could hear the drums beat. She couldhear the sentry's challenge. She even knew the countersign—"God savethe king!"—they were saying that to-night at Fort Loudon as the guardturned out;—she did not know it; she never knew it; she was only sureof it!

Willinawaugh had never heard of the agriculturist who sowed dragon'steeth and whose crop matured into full-armed soldiers. But he acutelyrealized this plight as he detailed how the Cherokees had protested, andhad sent a "talk" (letter) to the Earl of Loudon, who had been at thetime commander-in-chief of the British forces in America, setting forththe fact that the Cherokees did not like the presence of so many whitepeople among them as the two hundred soldiers and the settlers that hadgathered about the place. The military occupation made the fort acoercion and menace to the Cherokee people, and they requested him totake away the soldiers and relinquish the fort with its twelve greatguns and other munitions of war to the Cherokee nation,—to whichsuggestion the Earl of Loudon had seemed to turn a deaf ear.

Alexander MacLeod, deliberating gravely, realized that under suchcircumstances the fort would ultimately be used against the Englishinterest that it was designed to foster, by reason of the ever-readymachinations of the French influence among[27] the Cherokees. The fort wasevidently intended to afford protection to the Cherokees, but only solong as they were the allies of the English.

Much of the night passed in this discourse, but at length Willinawaughslept, his feet toward the fire, around which the other Indians, allrolled in their blankets, like the spokes of a wheel about a hub, werealready disposed. Alexander MacLeod had been nearly the last man to dropout of the conversation. He glanced up to note that Odalie sat stillwide awake with her back against the trunk of a great chestnut-oak, hereyes on the fire, the child in her arms. They exchanged a glance whichsaid as plain as speech that he and Hamish and she would divide thewatch. Each would rest for two or three hours and watch while the othersslept. It behooved them to be cautious and guard against surprise. Therecollection of that dead Indian, lying on his face in the woods milesto the north of them, and the doubt whether or not he belonged to thisparty, and the sense of vengeance suspended like a sword by a hair,—allimpinged very heavily on Hamish's consciousness, and in his own phrasehe had to harry himself to sleep. Alexander, realizing that, as theablest of the family, he was their chief means of defense, betookhimself to much-needed repose, and Odalie was the only waking humanbeing in many and many a mile. Now and[28] again she heard far away thehooting of an owl, or the scream of a panther, and once, close at hand,the leaves stirred with a stealthy tread and the horses snorted aloud.She rose and threw more lightwood on the flaring fire, and as the flamesleaped up anew two bright green eyes in the dusk on the shadowy side ofthe circle vanished; she saw the snarl of fierce fangs and no more, forthe fire burned brilliantly that night as she fed the flames, and fardown the aisles of the primeval forest the protective light wasdispensed. Above were the dense boughs of the trees, all red and yellow,but through that great gate, the gap in the mountain wall, she couldlook out on the stars that she had always known, keeping their steadfastwatch above this strange, new land. So accustomed was she to nature thatshe was not awed by the presence of the somber, wooded, benightedmountain range, rising in infinite gloom, and austere silence, andindefinable extent against the pallid, instarred sky.

She began to think, woman-like, of that home she had left; in her mindit was like a deserted living thing. And the poor sticks of furnitureall standing aghast and alone, the door open and flapping in the wind!And when she remembered a blue pitcher,—a squat little blue jug thathad come from France,—left on a shelf by the window with[29] some redleaves in it to do duty as a bouquet,—so relieved was she now of herfears for the lives of them all that she must needs shed tears of regretfor the little blue pitcher,—the squat little blue jug that came fromFrance. And how had she selected so ill among her belongings as to whatshe should bring and what leave? Fifine had a better frock than thatserge thing; it would not wear so well, but her murrey-colored pelissetrimmed with the sarcenet ribbon would have added warmth enough. If itwere not such a waste of goods she would make over her paduasoy coat forFifine, for she loved to see a small child very fine of attire. Butprecious little time she would have for remodeling the paduasoy coat,—aprimrose-tinted ground with dark red roses, that had been her"grand'maman's" when new. "I wonder if I expected to live always in ahollow tree, that I should have left that pair of sheets, new tenhundred linen, the ones that I have just woven," she arraigned herselfindignantly, as she mentally went over the stock in the pack. "And did Ithink I should be so idle that I must bring instead so much spun-truckso as to weave others. To think of those new linen sheets! And then toothat lovely, quaint little jug—the little squat blue jug that came fromFrance!"

Oh, no; Odalie was not at all lonely during the long watch through thenight, and did not lack[30] subjects of meditation. The time did not hangheavily on her hands!

It hardly seemed that an hour had passed when Hamish, in obedience tosome inward monition, turned himself suddenly, looked up, stretchedhimself to a surprising length, then sat up by the fire, motioning toher to close her eyes.

His face was compassionate; perhaps he saw traces of tears about hereyes. He could not know why she had been weeping, or he might haveaccounted his sympathy wasted. For Hamish looked upon crockery asinanimate and a mere manufacture, yet endowed with a perverse ingenuityin finding occasions to come into disastrous contact with a boy'sunsuspecting elbow, and get itself broken and the boy into disgrace. Hehad his gentle interpretation of her sorrow, and motioned to her, oncemore, to close her eyes, and pointed up at the skies, where Orion wasunsheathing his glittering blade above the eastern mountains—a warningthat the night was well-nigh spent and a chill day of early December onthe way. And it seemed only an inappreciable interval of time beforeOdalie opened her eyes again, upon a crimson dawn, with the rime whiteon the sparse red and brown leaves and bare boughs; to see breakfastcooking under Hamish's ministrations; to see Fifine washing the cat'sface with fresh water from the spring[31]—very cold it was, as Fifineherself found it, when it came her turn to try it herself and cry"Quelle barbarie!"—to see the Indians getting a party to horse to goback and search for one of their number, who had become separated insome way; to see poor Hamish's face pale with fear and consciousness,and then harden with resolution to meet the worst like a man.

At length they set forth in the frosty dawn of a new day, changing theirroute and making their progress further southward along untried ways shehad never thought to travel. The sun came grandly up; the mountainrange, wooded to the summit, flaunted in splendid array, red, andyellow, and even purple, with the heavy growths of the sweet-gum trees,and their wealth of lingering foliage. Here and there, along theheights, grim crags showed their beetling precipices, and where theleaves had fallen, covering great slopes with russet hues, the bareboles and branches of the forest rose frosted with fine lace-likeeffects. Sometimes, with a wild woodland call and a flash of white foam,a cataract dashed down the valley. The feeding deer lifted their headsto gaze after the party with evanescent curiosity and then fell toquietly grazing again: they had not known enough of man to acquire afear of him. Sometimes arose the bellowing of distant herds of buffalo,filling the Cumber[32]land spurs and coves with a wonted sound, to whichthey have now long been strangers.

Wild turkey, quail, wild duck, wild geese, the latter already beginningtheir southward migration, were as abundant, one might say, as leaves onthe trees or on the ground. There were trout of the finest flavor inthese mountain streams, and one might call for what one would fordinner. If one cared for sweets there was honey in the honeycomb inalmost any hollow tree, where the wild bees worked and the bearprofited; and for fruit and nuts there were the delicious amberpersimmons, and the sprightly frost grapes, and walnuts and hickory-nutsand chestnuts galore.

The march was far swifter now than the rate that the settlers hadmaintained before the Indians had joined the party, and the little girlwas added to the burden of one of the packhorses, but Odalie, light,active, with her native energy tense in every nerve, and with everypulse fired by the thought that each moment carried her nearer to thecannon of Fort Loudon and safety, kept step valiantly with thepedestrians. Willinawaugh sat at his ease on his horse, which wassomewhat jaded by long and continuous marches, or perhaps his patiencewould not have sufficed to restrain him to the pace of the pioneers andhis own unmounted followers. A grave spirit of amity still pervaded the[33]party, but there was little talk. Odalie relegated herself to thesubservient manner and subordinate silence befitting a squaw; MacLeod,restricted to the French language and his bit of Cherokee, feared thathis interest might lead him beyond the bounds of the simulation theirsafety required; Hamish was silent, too, partly tamed by the halt whichthey now and then made on rising ground, when the chief would turn hiskeen, high-nosed profile, distinct upon the faint tints of the bluemountains beyond, his eagle feathers on his scalp-lock blowing backagainst the sky, and cast a sharp-eyed glance over the landscape todiscern if perchance the search party, from which they had separated,was now coming to rejoin them. These frequent halts were discontinuedafter two days, when the Indian saw fit to change his proposed line ofmarch, and the rest of his party, if following, could hardly be expectedto also deviate from the agreed plan and overtake them.

They had hitherto proceeded down a valley, between clifty mountain wallson the one hand, and a high, steep, frowning ridge on the other, runningwith the same trend in unbroken parallelism. Now it suited Willinawaughto turn his horse's head straight up these seemingly inaccessibleslopes; and without exchanging a glance or venturing a comment hisfellow-travelers obe[34]diently followed his lead, conscious of the sly andfurtive observation of his tribesmen and even of Willinawaugh himself,for the suspicion of the Indian never seems quite allayed but onlydormant for a time. He noted naught that could excite it afresh,although it was only by the toil of hours that they could surmount theobstacles of great rocks, could find a deer-path through the densejungle of the laurel, otherwise impenetrable, could cross foamingmountain torrents so swift and so deep that more than once it seemedthat the packhorses, with Odalie also mounted now for the ford, mustsuccumb to the strength of the current.

At length the party stood upon the summit, with a dozen wild outliers ofthe Cumberland and the intervenient coves below their feet; then came avast spread of undulating country to the eastward, broken here and thereby parallel ridges; and beyond rose mountains brown, and mountainspurple, and still further, mountains blue; and still beyond and above,a-glimmering among the clouds, so high and so vague, apparently so likethe gossamer texture of the vapor that one could hardly judge whetherthese congeners of the very heavens were earth or sky, mythical peaks orcloud mountains—the Great Smoky Range. In the wide, wide world below,noble rivers flowed, while aloft, like the gods on Olympus, it seemedthe travelers[35] could overlook the universe, so vast as to discount alltheories of measurement, and mark its varying mood. So clear and limpidwas the air that trivial incidents of that great scene were asserteddespite the distance, and easily of note,—a herd of buffalo wasdistinguishable in an open, trodden space about a salt-lick; a fleet ofcanoes, like a bevy of swallows, winged along the broad surface of thelargest of these splendid streams, called the Tsullakee (Cherokee) asWillinawaugh informed them, for these Indians never used the soundrepresented by our letter R. In the phonetically spelled words in whichit seems to occur the sound is more accurately indicated by the letterL. A notable philological authority states that the English rendering ofthe word "Cherokee" and others of the language in which the letter Rappears is derived from the mistaken pronunciation of neighboring tribesand of the French, who called the Tsullakee [B]—La rivière desChéraquis.

Odalie could not refrain from asking in what direction was Choté,"beloved town, city of refuge." She had the art to affect to interpretfor her husband, but she could not keep the light from her eyes, thescarlet flush of joyful expectation from her cheek, when the savage,with a sweeping wave of his pipe-stem, indicated a region toward the[36]southeast on the banks of a tributary (the Little Tennessee) of thatbroad and splendid river, which was now running crimson and gold andwith a steely glitter, reflecting the sunset, in the midst of the dusky,dull-blue landscape, with the languor of evening slipping down upon it.

There it lay in primeval beauty,—the land of hope. Oh, for the spiritof a soothsayer; for one prophetic moment! What did that landhold,—what days should dawn upon it; what hearthstones should bealight; who should be the victor in the conquests of the future, andwhat of the victim?

But they loved this country—the Cherokees; their own, they said, forthe Great Spirit gave it them. They even sought to associate with thosesplendid eastern mountains the origin of the Cherokee people by theoft-reiterated claim that the first of their race sprung from the soilof those noble summits or dropped from the clouds that hover about thelofty domes. And now Willinawaugh broke from the silence that the lackof a common tongue had fostered, and despite that embargo on theexchange of ideas he grew fluent and his enthusiasm seemed to whet theunderstanding of his listeners, who could realize in some sort thelanguage that they could not speak. They caught the names of the greatlandmarks. The vast range, on an outlier of which they pitched theircamp, as[37] insignificant in proportion as an atom to the universe, hecalled the Wasioto Mountain, and one of the rivers was the Hoho-hebee,and others were the Coot-cla, the Agiqua, the Canot, the Nonachuckeh.Hamish remembered these names long after they were forgotten by others,and the re-christened Clinch and Holston and French Broad flowed asfairly with their uncouth modern nomenclature as when they wereidentified by as liquid musical syllables as the lapsing of their owncurrents; for never did he lose the impression of this night;—neverfaded the mental picture of the Cherokee chief, the war-paint, vermilionand black and white, on his face as he sat before the fire, the wavingof the eagle-feathers on his tufted scalp-lock blotting out half thedull-blue landscape below, which had the first hour of the night uponit, and the moon, blooming like a lily, with a fair white chalicereflected in the dark deeps of the Tsullakee River. And in this hourwhile Odalie reached out with all tender, tremulous hope to the futurethe savage told of the past.

Of the past,—mysterious, mythical. Of the strange lack of tradition ofthis new world that was yet so old. For here, in the midst of theCherokee hunting-ground,—the whole country was but a great uninhabitedpark heavily stocked with game, the Cherokee settlements being merely afringe upon its verges,—were vestiges of a previous[38] population;remains of works of defense like forts; fragments of pottery and othermanufactures; unfading allegorical paintings high on the face ofinaccessible cliffs; curious tiny stone sarcophagi containing pygmybones, the mysterious evidence of the actual existence of theprehistoric "little people";[4] great burial mounds, with molderingskeletons, and caves entombing mummies of splendid stature and longyellow hair, evidently placed there ages ago, still wearing ornaments ofbeads and metals, with remnants of strange fabrics of fibers andfeathers, and with weapons befitting a high rank and a warlike race. Andwho were they? And whence did they come? They were always here, saidWillinawaugh. So said all the Cherokees. They were always here.

And whither did this unknown people go? The Indian shook his head, theflicker of the fire on his painted face. They were gone, he said, whenthe Tsullakee came. Long gone—long gone!

And alas, what was their fate? Odalie looked about at the violet night,at the white moon and the dun shadows, with an upbraiding question, andthe night was silent with a keen chill fall of a frost. This was no newworld into which they were adventuring. It had witnessed tragedies. Itheld death. It sealed its lips and embodied oblivion. Oh, for the hopesof the future,—and oh, for the hopes of the dead and gone past!

CHAPTER II

The next day when Odalie turned her face once more toward her Mecca ofhome and peace she felt that she trod on air, although her shoes, illcalculated for hard usage, had given way at last, and suffered thethorns to pierce through the long rifts between sole and upper leatherand the stones to still further rend the gaping tatters. MacLeod wouldnot allow himself to comment on it even by a look, lest someuncontrollable sympathy should force him to call a halt, now when hefelt that their lives depended on pressing forward and taking advantageof the pacific mood of the Indian and the assumed character of Frenchtraders to reach the English fort. Hamish, however, with a dark-eyed,reproachful glance upbraided this apparently callous disregard, and thenaddressed himself to the task of making light of the matter to Odalie inlieu of other solace.

"Tu ne oughtpas l'avoir fait," he gravely admonished her in hisqueer French. "Tu ought known better, Odalie!"

"Known what better?" demanded Odalie, resenting reprimand in a veryun-squawlike fashion.[40]

"Marcher in shoes!Mong Dew!Ces souliers couldn't have been madepour marcher in!" he retorted, with a funny grimace.

The facial contortion seemed suddenly to anger Willinawaugh, who hadchanced to observe them; to suggest recollections that he resented, andthe reminder shared in his disfavor. He abruptly wreathed his fiercecountenance into a simulacrum of Hamish's facetious mug; he shrugged hisshoulders with a genuine French twist; and anything more incongruouslyand grotesquely frightful and less amusing could hardly be imagined.

His unwilling companions gazed at him with as genuine a terror as if thedevil himself had entered into him and thus expressed his presence amongthem. Willinawaugh abruptly discontinued his "fonny" grimace, that had avery ferocity of rebuke, and leaning from his horse with an expressionof repudiation, spat upon the ground. Then he began to talk about BaronDes Johnnes and his sudden disappearance from the Cherokee Nation.

At Choté, it seemed, was this gay and facetious Frenchman, thisall-accomplished Baron Des Johnnes, who could speak seven differentIndian languages with equal facility, to say nothing of a trifle or twosuch as English, Spanish, German, and[41] French, of course!—at Choté,City of Refuge, where, if he had shed the blood of the native Cherokeeon his own threshold, his life would have been sacred even from thevengeance of the Indian's brother! And suddenly came the CarolinaColonel Sumter, returning with an Indian delegation that had been toCharlestown, and found the Frenchman here. And with Colonel Sumter wasOconostota, king of the Cherokees, and other head-men, who had justsigned a treaty at Charlestown, promising to kill or arrest anyFrenchman discovered within the Cherokee Nation. And who so appalled asOconostota, to see his friend, the gay Baron Des Johnnes, lying on abuffalo skin before the fire, smoking his pipe in the chief's ownwigwam. And when Colonel Sumter demanded his arrest Oconostota refusedand pleaded the sanctity of the place—the City of Refuge. And Baron DesJohnnes arose very smiling and bland, and bowed very low, and remindedColonel Sumter that he was in Choté—Old Town!

And what said Colonel Sumter? He spoke in the English, like a wolf mighttalk—"Old Town—or New Town—I'll takeyou to Charles Town!"

And what did the Baron Des Johnnes? Not a Cherokee; not bound by theever-sacred laws of the City of Refuge! Although surrounded by hisfriends he struck not one blow for his freedom, as man to man. Hesuffered himself to be arrested,[42] single-handed, by this wolf of aColonel—Colonel Sumter—saying in gentle protest, "Mais, M'sieur!"

"Mais, M'sieur!" grimaced Willinawaugh, in mimicry. Then "MaisM'sieur!" he threw up both hands. "Mais, M'sieur!" he shrieked inharsh derision to the unresponsive skies.

Alexander knew that the Baron Des Johnnes had been taken to Charlestownand examined, and although nothing could be proved against him, it hadbeen deemed expedient to ship him off to England. Perhaps theauthorities were of opinion that a man with such conversationalfacilities as eight or ten languages had best be kept where "least said,soonest mended."

But for the repeated harsh treatment that the Cherokees sustained fromthe English settlers, the ingratiating arts of the French might havefailed to find so ready a response. Sedate of manner and of a grave castof mind themselves, the Indians could ill tolerate the levity, thegaieté de cœur, of the French, whom they pronounced "light as afeather, fickle as the wind, and deceitful as serpents."

With this intimation of Willinawaugh's reserves of irritability thepioneers journeyed on, a trifle more ill at ease in mind, which was anadded hardship, since their physical sufferings were intensifying withevery long mile of continued effort. They began to wonder how they,supposed to be[43] French, would fare when they should meet otherCherokees, perhaps more disposed than Willinawaugh to adhere to theterms of their treaty to kill or make prisoner every Frenchman whoshould venture into the Cherokee Nation, yet on the other hand perhapsmore competent by virtue of a familiarity with the language to detectand resent the fact that they were not of the French nationality.Already Willinawaugh had counseled that they should go further thanChoté, to ply their trade in furs, for Choté was dangerously near theEnglish fort for a Frenchman; one of the Tuckaleechee towns on the CanotRiver was a preferable location, and he promised to contrive to slipthem past Fort Loudon without the commandant's knowledge.

They restrained all expression of objection or discomfort and bore theirgrowing distresses with a fortitude that might rival the stoicism of asavage. Only when an aside was possible, MacLeod besought his wife toloose the burden of one of the packhorses and mount the animal herself.She shook her head resolutely. She had already suffered grief enough forthe household stores she had left behind. To these precious remainingpossessions she clung desperately. "When I can no longer walk," shesaid, with a flash in her eye which admonished him to desist.

They offered no comment on their route, although[44] it seemed that theyhad climbed the mountain two days ago for the express purpose ofdescending it again, but on the eastern side. MacLeod, however, atlength realized that the Indian was following some faint trace, welldistinguishable to his skilled eye, and the difficulties of the steepdescent were rendered more tolerable by his faith in the competence ofhis guide. The packhorses found it hard work filing down the sharpdeclivities and sustaining the equilibrium of their burden. The chief,with his lordly impatience and superiority to domestic concerns,evidently fumed because of the delay they occasioned, and had he notsupposed that the contents of the bales of goods were merchandise andtrinkets to be bartered with the Indians for peltry, instead of Odalie'sslim resources of housekeeping wares,—sheets, and table-linen andgarments, and frugal supplies of flax and seeds,—he would not havesuffered the slow progress.

Through the new country below, that they had watched from the heights,they went now, the mountains standing sentinel all around thehorizon—east and west, and north and south, sometimes nearer, sometimesmore distant; always mountains in sight, like some everlastinglyuplifting thought, luring a life to a higher plane of being. Now andagain the way wended along the bank of a river, with the steeps showingin the waters below as well[45] as against the sky above, and one day whenthey had but recently broken their camp on its shores there shot outfrom beneath an overhanging boscage of papaw trees a swift, arrowy thingakin to a fish, akin to a bird—an Indian canoe, in which were threebraves.

The poor pioneers were exhausted with their long and swift journey;their hearts, which had been stanch within them, could but fail with thefailure of physical strength. Their courage only sufficed to hold themto a mute endurance of a dreadful expectation, and a suspense that setevery nerve a-quiver. The boatmen had cried out with a wild, fierce noteof surprise on perceiving the party, and the canoe was coming straightacross to the bank as fast as the winglike paddles could propel it.Willinawaugh rode slowly down to meet them, and in contrast to the usualimpassive manners of the Indians he replied to the agitated hail in atone of tense and eager excitement. There ensued evidently an exchangeof news, of a nature which boded little good to the settlers. Dark angergathered on the brow of the chieftain as he listened when the braves hadbounded upon the bank, and more than once he cried out inarticulatelylike a wild beast in pain and rage. Perhaps it is rare that a man hassuch a moment in his life as Alexander experienced when one of thesavages, a ferocious[46] brute, turned with a wild, untamed, indigenousfury kindling in his eyes, and drawing his tomahawk from his belt smiledfiercely upon the silent, motionless little band, his deadly racialhatred reinforced by a thousand bitter grudges and wrongs.

Hamish's fingers trembled on his gun, but ostensibly no one moved.Willinawaugh hastily interposed, speaking but the magicwords—"Flanzy—Flinch!" Then still in English, as if to reassure thepioneers—"Go Choté—Old Town—buy fur!"

The hatred died out of the fierce Indian faces. The French in the South,as has been said, had always used every art to detach the Cherokees fromthe British interest, and even now the men who had abandoned FortDuquesne, escaping down the Ohio River, were sending emissaries up theTsullakee, to the Lower Towns, there finding fruitful soil in which tosow the seeds of dissension against the English. The assertion thatthese travelers were French, and the fact that by receiving persons ofthis nation the Cherokees could requite with even a trivial anddiplomatic injury some faint degree of the wrong which they consideredthey had sustained from the Virginians, was more than adequate tonullify for the time the rage they felt against these pioneers as of thewhite race.

With the instinct of hospitality, which is a very[47] marked element of theCherokee nature, one of them signed with a free and open gesture to theboat.

"Beaucoup marchez!" he said, smiling with an innocent suavity like achild, "Svim!"

He did not mean literally "swim," and to offer them the facilities ofthe Tennessee River for that purpose, although this might have beeninferred. But the pioneers understood the proffer of the canoe for theremainder of their journey, and a deadly terror seized the heart ofOdalie as she marked the demonstrations of the others in pullingWillinawaugh forcibly from his horse in spite of his feigned objections,for the canoe could hold but three persons. Little choice had she,however. Willinawaugh, maintaining the affable demeanor of a guest ofconscious distinction, was already seated in the boat, and pointed outAlexander as his preferred companion. For once the Scotchman disregardedthe wishes of his guide, philosopher, and friend, and taking his wife bythe hand motioned to her to step over the side of the little craft.Odalie could only look reproachfully at him; she could not contend withher lord and master in the presence of savages—such are the privilegesof civilization! The Indians, somewhat accustomed by the talk, and onoccasion the example, of the French traders, and perhaps by traditionsfrom the white[48] settlements, to the idea of the extreme value that thepaleface was wont to place on wife or daughter, scornfully marked theinstance, but beyond an expressive "Ugh!" naught was said. The child waslifted to Odalie's arms—the cat strapped pappoose-wise to Josephine'sback and accommodating itself quiescently to the situation.

Alexander had never intended to embark Odalie and Josephine alone withthe Indians, although his will was but a slight thing, so entirely werethey now in the power of the savages; he motioned to Hamish to take thepaddle, and with the slight mixture of French and Cherokee at hiscommand, intimated to the apparent owner of the boat that he wouldrather walk by his side and profit by his converse than to be able tosail at will on the water like the swan there—a large and handsomebird, who was giving the finest exhibition of that method of progressionto be easily found anywhere, with her white neck arched, her glidingmotion, and snowy breast reflected in the clear water.

And so Odalie had parted from her husband, without so much as a glanceof farewell! Perhaps he dared not look at her. So far they had cometogether, and now in these wild fastnesses, among these blood-lovingfiends in the likeness of humanity, they were separated to meetwhen?—where? Perchance no more. She could not—would not—leave[49] himthus. She would turn back at the last moment! She would go back!

She rose to her feet so precipitately that with the shifting of herweight the canoe careened suddenly and was momentarily in danger ofcapsizing with all on board. Willinawaugh glanced up with a kindling eyeand a ferocious growl. Hamish, throwing himself skillfully on theopposite side, adroitly trimmed the boat. His look of warning,upbraiding and yet sympathizing, steadied Odalie's nerves as she sankback into her place. She tactfully made it appear that she hadaccidentally come near to dropping the little girl from her grasp andrising to recover her had shaken the poise of the frail craft.Willinawaugh's mutter of dissatisfaction showed that he esteemed thepossibility no very great mischance, and set no high store on Josephine.Now and again he eyed the cat, too, malevolently, as if he could illbrook her mannerisms and pampered mien. Hamish had an uncomfortable ideathat the Cherokee was not familiar with animals of this kind, and thathe harbored a wonder if Kitty would not serve her best and noblestpossibilities in a savory stew. But for himself Hamish avoided theIndian's eyes with their curious painted circles of black and white, asmuch as he might, for whenever their glances met, Willinawaugh's facialcontortion to deride the "fonny" disposition he deemed a part ofHamish's[50] supposed French nature so daunted the boy that he bent hishead as well as his muscles to the work.

That day was like a dream to Odalie, and, indeed, from the incongruityof her mental images she hardly knew whether she was sleeping or waking.One moment it seemed to her that she was in Carolina, in the new framemansion that she had always thought so fine, sitting on the arm of hergrandmother's chair, with her dark hair against the white locks and thesnowy cap, while she babbled, in the sweet household patois of Frenchchildren that has no lexicon, and no rules, and is handed down from onegeneration to another, her girlish hopes, and plans, and anxieties, tofind the grandmother's fine, old, deft hand smooth all the difficultiesaway and make life easy, and hope possible, and trouble a mere shadow.

Alas! that brightening perspective of the colonial garden, where thejasmine, gold and white, clung to the tall trellises, and the clovegillyflower, and the lilies and roses grew in the borders in the broadsuffusions of the sunshine, was metamorphosed to the wide spread of theTennessee River, with the noon-day blaze on its burnished expanse ofripples; and grand'maman had long since ceased her ministry of soothingand consolation, and found her own comfort in the peace and quiet of thegrave. And ere Odalie could suffer more than a pang to realize that[51] shewas so far from that grave, her head drooped once more—she was asleep.

No; she was awake, awake and splendid in a white dress, her beautifulbridal dress in which she had looked a very queen, with hergrand'maman's pearl necklace, itself an heirloom, about her whitethroat. And so, standing at the altar of the little church withAlexander, and much light about her, and a white dress, oh, verywhite—and suddenly! all the church is stricken to darkness. No; thereis light again!

It was a flash from a thunder cloud, reflected in sinister, forked linesin the Tennessee River, so that they seemed in the very midst of thelightning, until it vanished into the darkness of a lowering black sky,that overhung the water and made all the woods appear bleak andleafless, though here and there still a red tree blazed. The world wasdrearier for these grim portents of storm, for all the way hitherto fairweather had smiled upon their progress. Still she could not heed—shedid not care even when the rain came down and pitilessly beat upon herwhite face; she did not know when Fifine crept under the shawl whichHamish threw around her, and that the frightened little girl held to hertight with both arms around her waist, while the pioneer cat verydiscreetly nestled down in the basket on Josephine's back. She was not[52]roused even by loud voices when later a pettiaugre, a much larger boatthan theirs, pulled alongside with eight or ten warriors and remained inclose and unremitting conversation with Willinawaugh for several miles.Poor Hamish could hardly sustain himself. He felt practically alone.Odalie was, he thought, on the verge of death from exhaustion andrealized naught of her surroundings. His brother had been left in thesewild woods with a party of savages, who were as likely to murder him fora whim or for the treasures of the bales which the packhorses carried,as to respect the safe conduct of Willinawaugh and the supposedcharacter of French traders. This, Hamish was aware, hardly sufficednow, so unrestrained was the ferocity of the glances cast upon them bythe Indians in the pettiaugre alongside—so like the glare of a savagecatamount, ready to leap upon its prey and yet with a joyance in itsferocity, as if this rage were not the pain of anger but the pleasure ofit.

What subtle influence roused Odalie at last she could hardly have said;perhaps the irresistible torpor of exhaustion had in some sort recruitedher faculties. The storm was gone, unseasonable and transient, and onlya broken remnant of its clouds hung about the western mountains. Towardthe east the sky was clear and a dull fluctuation of sunset, alternatingwith shadow, was on the land[53]scape. As a sudden suffusion of this broad,low, dusky glare lay upon the scene for a moment, she saw against thedark blue Chilhowee Mountain in the middle distance something glimmeringand waving, and as she strained her eyes it suddenly floated broadlyforth to the breeze,—the blended cross of St. George and St. Andrewblazoned on the British flag.

In one moment she was strong again; alert, watchful, brave, despite thatboat close alongside and the alternate questions and remonstrances ofthe fierce and cruel Indians. One of them, the light of a close and finediscernment in his savage features, was contending that Willinawaugh wasdeceived; that these were no French people; that the cast of the face ofthe "young dog" was English; he looked like the Virginia settlers andhunters; even like the men at the fort.

Willinawaugh had the air of deigning much to consider the plea that theother Indians preferred. He only argued astutely that they all spokeFrench among themselves,—man, boy, squaw, and pappoose. They showedgratitude when he had promised them that they should not be obliged topass the English fort and risk the chance of detection. He intended toslip them up the Tellico River where it flows into the Tennessee a mileon the hither side of the fort and thence make their way to a remoterIndian town than Choté.[54]

The skeptical Cherokee, Savanukah, immediately asserted boastfully thathe spoke "Flinch" himself and would test the nationality of the boy.

Hamish had never had great scholastic advantages and had sturdilyresisted those that Odalie would have given him. He remembered withdespair the long lines of French verbs in the little dog's-eared greenbook that all her prettiest sisterly arts could never induce him tolearn to conjugate. Why should he ever need more talking appliance thanhe already possessed, he used to argue. He could tell all he knew, andmore besides, in the somewhat limited English vocabulary at his command."Parlez vous? Parlez, fou!" he was wont to exclaim, feeling very clever.How should he have dreamed that Odalie's littleVocabulaire Françaiswould be more efficacious to save his life than his rifle and his deadlyaim?

He looked toward her once more in his despair. The boats were now amonga series of obstructions formed by floating débris of a recentstorm,—many branches of trees, here and there a bole itself, uprootedand flung into the river by the violence of the tempest,—whichnecessitated careful steering and paddling and watching the current totake them through safely. It threw the two boats apart for a space,prolonging Hamish's suspense, yet serving as a reprieve to the ordeal ofhis examination as to his[55] proficiency in the French language by theerudite Cherokee. The canoe rocked in the swirls, and althoughWillinawaugh sat still in stately impassiveness, Odalie and Fifine clungto the gunwale. Hamish's eyes met Odalie's, which were clear, liquidlybright, as if fired with some delightful anticipation, and yet weary andfeverishly eager. Oh, this was delirium! She did not realize hersurroundings; her intelligence was gone! His poor young heart swellednearly to bursting as he turned back with aching arms and dazzled eyesand throbbing, feverish pulses to the careful balancing of the paddle,for Willinawaugh was an exacting coxswain. Hamish could not know whatvision had been vouchsafed to Odalie in the midst of the gloomy woodswhile the other Indians and Willinawaugh had wrangled and he had hungabsorbed upon their words as on the decrees of fate. Even she at firsthad deemed it but hallucination, the figment of some fever of thebrain—this had been a day of dreams! Yet there it had stood on theriver bank with the primeval woods around it, with the red sunsetamongst the clouds above it, with the sunset below it, reflected in thecurrent of the river, full of sheen and full of shadow,—a figure, ahunter, looking out at the boats; a white man,—a man she had neverbefore seen.

How he stared! She dared make no signal of[56] distress. She only turnedher head that she might look back covertly with a face full of meaning.The next moment she saw him mount his horse in the buffalo path in thecane-brake and gallop off at a breakneck speed.

But was she sure—had she seen aught, she asked herself, tremulously.For it had been a day of dreams—it had been a day of dreams! And theconfluence of the Tellico River with the Tennessee might be sohopelessly near!

The progress of both boats was very slow now, upstream against thecurrent and the débris of the storm; even the crew of Indian bravesneeded to pull with vigor to make the clear water again. When this wasreached they rested motionless, the duplication of the pettiaugre andthe feather headdress of the Cherokees as clearly pictured in thebright, still reaches of the river as above in the medium of the airbetween sunset and dusk.

They were all looking back, all commenting on Hamish's slow progress. Hehad the current and his exhaustion both against him, and the mostearnest and well-equipped postulant of culture would hardly be eager togo to an examination in the French language when his life was to be theforfeit of failure. The sound of the river was loud on the evening air;a wind was astir on either bank,—a pillaging force, rifling the forestof the few leaves[57] it might still treasure; now and then a scurryingcloud of them fled before the blast against the sky; the evening hadgrown chill; the boy felt its dank depression in every nerve despite thedrops of perspiration that stood upon his brow as he too paddled intothe clear water. He held the boat stationary by a great effort.

He had come to the end. He could strive no more. He saw Savanukah riseup in the pettiaugre, looking toward him. The next moment the savageturned his head. There was an alien sound upon the air, so close at handthat despite the fret and turmoil of the water, the blare of the wildwind, the tumultuous clashing together of the bare boughs in the blackforest, it arrested the attention. Once more it asserted itself againstthe tumult, and then Hamish, his head spinning around until he thoughtthat the canoe had broken loose from his mechanical plying of thepaddle, recognized the regular rhythmical dash of oars.

CHAPTER III

In the next instant from beyond a curve in the river a boat shot intothe current,—a large row-boat, manned by twelve red-coated soldiers,bending to the oars, whose steady strokes sent the craft down the streamwith the speed, it seemed, of a meteor.

They were alongside and a non-commissioned officer was in diplomaticconverse with Willinawaugh before Hamish had regained possession of hisfaculties. Very diplomatic was the conference, for the corporal had hispacific orders and Willinawaugh was burdened with the grave anxiety tomake the facts conform at once to the probabilities, yet sustain theimpeccability of his own conduct. A little network of wrinkles, almostlike a visible mesh, gathered at the corners of his eyes and gave tokenof his grave cogitation.

The corporal, a dark-haired, blue-eyed, florid young Irishman, lookingvery stanch and direct and steady, but not without a twinkle of humorwhich betokened some histrionic capacity to support the situation,speaking partly in English and partly,[59] glibly enough, in very tolerableCherokee, although incongruously embellished with an Irish brogue,detailed that Captain Stuart had been apprised that there was a band ofIndians on the river who had some white people with them, and he wishedto know if these white people were French, in which case, according tothe treaty made with the Cherokees, they must be arrested and deliveredup to the commandant of the fort, or if English, he wished to be assuredthat they were at liberty to go where they pleased, and were under norestraint.

As the officer concluded, having bowed to Odalie with much politeness,considering he was not yet informed as to whether she were of a party ofFrench emissaries, forever sowing dissension amongst the Cherokee alliesof the English, he drew himself up very erect, with a complacent mien.He was conscious of being a fine-looking fellow, and he had not seen sohandsome a young woman of her evident position in life for a month ofSundays. Nevertheless he kept one eye on Willinawaugh, who was alsoeminently worthy of his respectful attention.

The Indians in the pettiaugre, listening attentively, gave no sign ofsurprise upon this statement, so at variance with the warrior's previousrepresentations. His ruse to shield the travelers now[60] by declaring themEnglish shielded himself as well, for being a chief and head-man hecould hardly find a plausible subterfuge to cloak his playing therôleof guide, philosopher, and friend to people of a nation so obnoxious tohis English allies, and establishing them in the very heart of theCherokee nation, contrary to its many solemn obligations and treaties.

After a moment's further reflection, Willinawaugh said again withemphasis, "Ingliss, Ingliss." Perhaps he did not desire to avail himselfof the added fluency of explanation which the Cherokee language wouldhave afforded him, and which Corporal O'Flynn evidently understood. "GoChoté—Old Town. Buy fur—man—packhorse," he added, pointing across thewoods in the direction in which Alexander MacLeod was presumably stillwearily tramping.

The corporal for the moment forgot how good-looking he was. Heconcentrated his whole attention on Willinawaugh's disingenuouscountenance, and then turned and cast a long, searching look uponOdalie. The eyes that met his own were swimming in tears, and with anexpression of pleading insistence that fairly wrung his heart, althoughhe hardly understood it. If she were English, why then she was free asthe air. If French—well, bedad, thin, Corporal O'Flynn[61] wished himselfat the bottom of the Tennessee River, for a French lady in grief andunder arrest had no right to be so good-looking at all, at all. Here wassomething wrong, he could but perceive, and yet because ofWillinawaugh's diplomacy he could not fix upon it.

Hamish had his eyes on the water. His fortitude, too, had given way inthe sudden relaxation of the strain of suspense. He could not, wouldnot, lift his face and let that boat's crew of stalwart soldiers restingon their oars, the two ranks gazing at him, see the tears in his eyes.

"A good English name, bedad, for a Scotch one, and an English accent,"Corporal O'Flynn mentally commented, as he looked curiously at the boy,standing with downcast face, mechanically handling the paddle.

"Now by the powers," said the young soldier to himself with suddenresolution, "Captain Stuart may undertake the unraveling o' this tanglehimself."

"English!" he exclaimed aloud. Then with much courtesy of manner,"Captain Stuart desires his compliments, and begs the English party todo[62] him the honor to lie at Fort Loudon to-night and pursue theirjourney at their convanience." He glanced up at the sky. "It grows lateand there are catamounts out, an' other bletherin' bastes, an' theirhowlin' might frighten the leddy."

Odalie, remembering the real dangers that had beset her and catching hisserious, unconscious glance as he animadverted on the possiblyterrifying vocalizations, burst into momentary laughter, and then into atorrent of tears.

At which the corporal, the boat's crew, and the Indian braves gazed ather in blank astonishment. Hysterics were a new importation on thefrontier. She controlled with an effort her tendency to laugh, but stillwept with the profusion of exhaustion and nervous tension.

Willinawaugh's eyes were fixed on her with deep displeasure. "Ugh!" hegrunted from time to time. "Ugh!"

"Oh, there's bloody murder here, if one could but chance upon thecarpse," said the corporal to himself, looking bewildered from her tothe boy.

And now was demonstrated the fact that although the corporal had but theslightest bit of a brogue in the world, there was a twist in his tonguewhich showed that he had at some time in his career made a practice ofkissing the "Blarney Stone" and was as Irish as County Clare.[63]

"Of course Captain Stuart couldn't have known that his valued friend,the great chief, Willinawaugh, was to be passing with the English party,but, sure, he would take it mighty ill if the chief did not stop over,too, and lie at the fort to-night,—an' he so seldom up from Toquoe!Captain Demeré, too, will expect the great chief. My word on't, hewill."

Now Willinawaugh, an epitome of craft, had no idea of adventuring withhis supposed French friends, whom he had endeavored to pass off asEnglish, into the British stronghold, for he doubted their capacity tosustain their character of compatriots; he had no means of judging oftheir knowledge of the English language and how soon their ignorancemight betray them. Since the ruse he had adopted had evidently notsufficed to evade the enforced stoppage at Fort Loudon, he hadrelinquished the intention to take them on past Choté to some other ofthe Overhill towns, and let them establish themselves as French traders.He feared that were they once inside the walls of Fort Loudon thisdesign against the agreement with his allies would become transparent.To be sure, it must be soon elucidated, but Willinawaugh was determinedto be far away by that time, and, moreover, he could send a "talk"(letter) to Captain Stuart, whose good opinion he greatly coveted, tosay that the French trader had[64] deceived him and made him believe thatthe party was English. At the same time he was too wary to venture intohis valued friend's power with this fresh grievance and with stormytimes for the two peoples evidently in prospect.

But he was flattered, infinitely flattered, as indeed who would not havebeen, by Corporal O'Flynn's tone and expression of ingenuous eyes andrespectful word of mouth. Willinawaugh was glad to have these ChotéCherokees see how highly he was esteemed—he was indeed a great warriorand a "Big Injun" of exclusive privilege. The invitation in no wise wasto be extended to the others to pass the night at Fort Loudon—not evento Savanukah, a chief himself, who spoke French!

Corporal O'Flynn was now going over in his mind how Willinawaugh mightbest be insulated, so to speak, that he might not have means to fire thebarracks, should that enterprise suggest itself to his fertile brain, orfind a way to open the gates, or otherwise afford ingress toconfederates without; how to lock him in, and yet not seem to treat himas a prisoner; to leave him at liberty, and yet free to do nothing butthat which his hosts should please. All such complicated andcontradictory details did Corporal O'Flynn deem himself capable ofreconciling—but one such subject was enough. Unfortunately for thetriumphant elucidation of these puzzling[65] problems, Willinawaugh, withdignity and a certain gruffness; yet now and again a flicker of covertsmile as if to himself, declined to partake of Captain Stuart'shospitality. He had a mission to the head-men of Choté which would notbrook delay. Yet he had a message to leave for the English officer. Hedesired to tell Captain Stuart that he often thought of him! Whenever heheard tales of famous warriors, of British generals, he thought ofhim! He considered these fighting men brave and noble, when he learnedof their splendid deeds in battle; and then again, they were as naughtin his mind,—for he had once more thought of the great Captain Stuart!

The corporal, listening attentively to pick out the meaning of Cherokeeand English, made a low bow in behalf of Captain Stuart, with aflourishing wave of his hat.

"I'll bear yer message, sir, and a proud man Captain Stuart ought to bethe day! An those jontlemen,"—he glanced at the pettiaugre full ofIndians,—"be so good as to ask them to lead the way."

Then he added in an undertone to his own men, "I am glad on't. I don'twant the responsibility of takin' care of the baste. I might be accusedof kidnapin' the craythure if anythin' was to happen to 'm,—though asto kids, he's more like the old original Billy-goat o' the wholeworruld!"[66]

Corporal O'Flynn cast the eye of a disciplinarian about him. It was oneof the rules of the tyranny he practiced, thus remote from civilization,that however jocose he might be not a trace of responsive merriment mustdecorate the faces of the men. They were all now, as was meet, grave andwooden. At the orders in his clear, ringing voice—"Let fall!" and theoars struck the water with emphasis, "Give way!"—Odalie's tears mustneeds flow anew. She gazed at the dozen fresh, florid young faces, asthe boat swung round and they came once more near the canoe, as if theywere a vision of saints vouchsafed to some poor groping, distraughtspirit,—when they were far indeed from being saints, though good enoughin their way, too! They all looked with unconscious sympathy at her asshe sat and wept and looked at them, and Corporal O'Flynn, moved by thetears, exclaimed below his breath, "But, be jabbers, afther all, what'sthe good of 'em now—better have been cryin' yesterday, or mebbe the daybefore. Back oars! Now—now! Give way!"

He was the last in the little fleet, and Hamish paddled briskly now tokeep ahead, as he was evidently expected to do, for Corporal O'Flynnintended that his own boat should bring up the rear. As they fared thusalong, Odalie noted the inflowing of that tributary, the TellicoRiver—how solitary,[67] how remote, how possible its loneliness hadrendered the scheme of Willinawaugh. Some distance beyond appeared asettler's cabin in an oasis of cultivated land in the midst of the densecane-brake; then others, now dull and dusky in the blue twilight, withthe afterglow of the sunset redly aflare above in the amber sky andbelow in the gray and glimmering water; now with a lucent yellow flickerfrom the wide-open door gemming the night with the scintillations of thehearthstone, set like a jewel in the center of the wilderness; nowsending forth a babbling of childish voices where the roof-tree had beenplanted close by the river-side and the passing of the boats had drawnall the household to the brink. How many they seemed—these cabins ofthe adventurous pioneers! How many happy homes—alas, that there shouldever be cause to cry it were better for them had they never been!

Odalie began to realize that she owed her liberty and perhaps her lifeto the first of these settlers who had espied the craft upon the river;as she marked the many windings and tortuous curves of the stream sheunderstood that he must have galloped along some straight, direct routeto the fort to acquaint the officers with the suspicious aspect of theIndian party and their white captives. As to the tremendous speed thecommandant's boat had[68] made to their rescue,—she blessed anew thosereckless young saints who had plied the oars with such fervent effort,which, however, could hardly have effected such speed had it not beentoo for the swift current running in their favor.

Suddenly the fort came into view—stanch, grim, massive, with the greatred-clay exterior slopes and the sharp points of the high palisades onthe rampart distinct in the blue twilight. It was very different fromthe stockaded stations of the early settlers with which she had beenfamiliar. This fort had been erected by the British government, and wasa work of very considerable strength and admirably calculated fordefensive purposes, not only against the subtle designs of the Indiansbut against possible artillery attacks of the French. There were heavybastions at the angles and within each a substantial block-house, theupper story built with projections beyond the lower, that would not onlyaid the advantage which the bastions gave of a flanking fire upon anassailant, but enable a watch to be maintained at all times and from allquarters upon the base of the wooden stockade on the rampart lest anenemy passing the glacis should seek to fire the palisades. But this wasin itself well-nigh impracticable. Strong fraises, defending both scarpand counterscarp, prevented approach. The whole was guarded by twelvecannon, grimly pointed from[69] embrasures, and very reassuring their blackmuzzles looked to one who hoped to ply the arts of peace beneath theprotection of their threat of war. Even the great gates were defended,being so thickly studded with iron spikes that not an inch of the woodwas left uncovered. They were broadly aflare now, and a trifle inadvance of the sentry at the entrance two officers were standing,brilliant with their red coats and cocked hats. They were gazing with acertain curiosity at the boats on the river, for Corporal O'Flynn,having pressed forward and landed first, had left his men resting ontheir oars and taken his way into the presence of his superior officersto make his report. He had paused for half a dozen words with HamishMacLeod as the boat passed the canoe, and when Odalie and the boy, witha couple of soldiers at either side maintaining the aspect of a guard,came up the gentle ascent at a slower pace, Captain Stuart was alreadyfully apprised of their long and perilous flight from Virginia. He stoodawaiting their approach,—a tall man of about twenty-eight years of age,bluff and smiling, with dense light-brown hair braided in a broad, heavyqueue and tied with a black ribbon. He had a fair complexion,considerably sun-burned, strong white teeth with a wide arch of the jaw,and he regarded her with keen steel-blue eyes, steady and unfathomable,yet withal pleasant. He took off his hat and[70] cordially held out hishand. Odalie could do naught but clasp it in both her cold hands andshed tears over it, mute and trembling.

With that ready tact which always distinguished him, Captain Stuartbroke the tension of the situation.

"Do you wish to enlist, Mrs. MacLeod?" he said, his smile showing aglimpse of his white teeth. "His majesty, the king, has need ofstout-hearted soldiers. And I will take my oath I never saw a braverone!"

And Odalie broke into laughter to blend with her tears, because shedivined that it was with the intention of passing on a difficulty thathe not ungracefully transferred her hands to the officer standing nearwith the words, "I have the pleasure of presenting Captain Demeré."However capable Captain Stuart might be of dealing with savages, heevidently shrank from the ordeal of being wept over and thanked by awoman.

He has been described by a contemporary historian as "an officer ofgreat address and sagacity," and although he may have demonstrated thesequalities on more conspicuous occasions, they were never more definitethan in thus securing his escape from feminine tearfulness.

Captain Demeré was of a graver aspect. He heard without impatience herwild insistence that[71] the whole available force of the fort should turnout and scour the wilderness for her husband—he even argued the matter.It would be impossible to find Mr. MacLeod at night and the effort mightcost him his life. "So marked a demonstration of a military nature wouldalarm the Indians and precipitate an outbreak which we have some reasonto expect. If he does not appear by daylight, the hunters of the fortwho always go out shall take that direction and scout the woods. Restassured everything shall be done which is possible."

She felt that she must needs be content with this, and as it had beenthrough the intervention of the officers that she and Hamish and Fifinewere set free, it did not lie in her mouth to doubt their wisdom in suchmatters, or their capacity to save her husband. Looking back to theriver, as upon a phase of her life already terminated, she saw the canoein which she had spent this troublous day already beginning to push outupon the broad current. Willinawaugh, with an Indian from the other crewto paddle the craft, had eluded Captain Stuart, who had reached thewater's edge too late for a word with him, and who stood upon the bank,an effective martial figure, and blandly waved his hand in farewell,with a jovial outcry, "Canawlla! Canawlla!"[C]

[72]The features of the chief were slightly corrugated with those fine linesof diplomatic thought, and even at this distance he muttered the lastword he had spoken to the corporal as he swiftly got away fromhim—"Ingliss!" he said again. "All Ingliss!"

As Odalie turned, the interior of the fort was before her; the broadparade, the lines of barracks, the heavy, looming block-houses, thegreat red-clay wall encircling all, and the high, strong palisades thateven surmounted the rampart. It gave her momentarily the sensation, asshe stood in its shadow, of being down in a populous and very securewell. There was a pervasive sentiment of good cheer; here and there theflicker of firelight fluctuated from an open door. Supper was either inprogress or just over, and savory odors gushed out into the air. Thechamping of horses and now and then a glad whinny betokened that thecorn-bin was open in the stables somewhere in the dusk. She felt as ifthe wilderness was a dream, for surely all this cordial scene of warmth,and light, and cheer, and activity, could not have existed while shewandered yonder, so forlorn, and desolate, and endangered; in pity ofit,—surely it was a dream! Now and again groups of fresh-faced soldierspassed, most of them in full uniform, for there had been a great dressparade during the afternoon, perhaps to impress the Indians with[73] theresources and military strength of the fort; perhaps to attach them byaffording that spectacular display, so new to all their experience, soimposing and splendid. Some of the savage visitors lingered, wistful,loath to depart, and were being hustled carefully out of the place by avery vigilant guard, who had kept them under surveillance as a specialcharge all the afternoon. A few soldiers of the post coming in ladenwith game wore the buckskin leggings, shirt, and coonskin cap usualamong the settlers, for it had been bitterly demonstrated that thethorns of the trackless wilderness had no sort of reverence for thetexture of the king's red coat.

Even the cat realized the transition to the demesne of civilization andin some sort the wonted domestic atmosphere. She suddenly gave anable-bodied wriggle in the basket on Josephine's back where she hadjourneyed, pappoose-wise, sprang alertly out, and scampered, tail up andwaving aloft, across the parade. Josephine's shriek of despair rangshrilly on the air, and Captain Demeré himself made a lunge at theanimal, as she sped swiftly past, with a seductive cry of "Puss! puss!"A young soldier hard by faced about alertly and gave nimble chase; thecry of "Puss! puss!" going up on all sides brought out half a dozensupple young runners from every direction, but Kitty, having lost noneof the elasticity of her muscles during her late[74] inaction, dartedhither and thither amongst her military pursuers, eluded them all, andscampering up the rampart, thence scaled the stockade and there began towalk coolly along the pointed eminence of this lofty structure as if itwere a backyard fence, while the soldier boys cheered her from below. Inthis jovial demonstration poor Josephine's wailing whimper of despairand desertion was overborne, and with that juvenile disposition to forcethe recognition and a share of her woe on her elders she forthwith lostthe use of her feet, and was half dragged, rather than led, by poorOdalie, who surely was not calculated to support any added burden. Sheherself, with halting step, followed Captain Demeré across the parade toa salient angle of the enclosure, wherein stood one of the block-houses,very secure of aspect, the formidable, beetling upper story jutting outabove the open door, from which flowed into the dusky parade a greatgush of golden light. Josephine's whimper was suddenly strangled in herthroat and the tears stood still on her cheeks, for as Captain Demeréstepped aside at the door with a recollection of polite society,yielding precedence to the ladies, which formality Odalie marveled tofind surviving in these rude times so far on the frontier, Josephineseemed resolved into a stare of dumb amazement, for she had never seen aroom half so fine.[75] Be it remembered she was born in the backwoods andhad no faint recollection of such refinement and elegances as thecolonial civilization had attained on the Carolina coast, and which herfather and mother had relinquished to follow their fortunes to the West.And in truth the officers' mess-hall presented a brave barbaric effectthat had a sort of splendor all its own. It was a large room, enteredthrough the gorge of the bastion, and its deep chimney-place, in therecesses of which a great fire burned with a searchingly illuminatingflare, was ample enough to afford a substantial settee on either handwithout impinging on the roomy hearth of flagstones that joined thepuncheons of the floor. Around the log walls the suffusion of lightrevealed a projecting line of deer antlers and the horns of buffalo andelk, partly intended as decoration and trophies of the chase, and partlyfor utilitarian purposes. Here and there a firelock lay from one toanother, or a powder-horn or brace of pistols swung. A glittering knifeand now and again a tomahawk caught the reflection of the fire andbespoke trophies of less peaceful pursuit. Over the mantel-shelf aspreading pair of gigantic antlers held suspended a memento evidentlymore highly cherished,—a sword in its sheath, but showing a richlychased hilt, which Odalie divined was a presentation in[76] recognition ofspecial service. Other and humbler gifts were suggested in the longIndian pipes, with bowls of deftly wrought stone; and tobacco-bags andshot-pouches beaded with intricate patterns; and belts of wampum andgorgeous moccasons; and bows and arrows with finely chiseled flint-headswinged with gayly colored feathers—all hanging from antlers on eitherside, which, though smaller than the central pair, were still largeenough to have stretched with surprise more sophisticated eyes thanFifine's. The variegated tints of the stained quills and shells withwhich a splendid curious scarlet quiver was embroidered, caught Odalie'sattention, and reminded her of what she had heard in Carolina of thegreat influence which this Captain Stuart had acquired among theIndians, and the extraordinary admiration that they entertained for him.These tokens of Aboriginal art were all, she doubted not, littleofferings of the chieftains to attest good-will, for if they had beenmerely bought with money they would not have been so proudly displayed.

There was a continual fluttering movement in the draught from theloop-holes and open door, and lifting her eyes she noted the swayingfolds of several banners against the wall, carrying the flare of colorto the ceiling, which was formed only by the rude floor of the roomabove.

But in all the medley her feminine eye did not[77] fail to perceive high upand withdrawn from ordinary notice, a lady's silk riding-mask such aswas used in sophisticated regions at the period to protect thecomplexion on a journey,—dainty, fresh, of a garnet hue with a blacklace frill, evidently treasured, yet expressively null. And this wasdoubtless all that was left of some spent romance, a mere memory in therude military life on the far frontier, barely suggesting a fair anddistant face and eyes that looked forth on scenes more suave.

With a sentiment of deep respect Odalie observed the six or eightarm-chairs of a rude and untoward manufacture, which were ranged aboutthe hearth, draped, however, to real luxury by wolfskins, for the earlysettlers chiefly affected rough stools or billets of wood as seats, orbenches made of puncheons with a couple of auger-holes at each end,through which four stout sticks were adjusted for legs, which wereindeed often of unequal length and gave the unquiet juvenile pioneer ofthat day a peculiarly acceptable opportunity for cheerily jouncing toand fro. There were several of these benches, too, but placed backagainst the walls, for the purpose she supposed of affording seats whenthe festive board was spread at length. An absolute board, thisfigurative expression implied, for the stern fact set forth a half dozenpuncheons secured together with cleats and laid across trestles when inuse, but at other[78] times placed against the wall beside the ladder whichgave access to the room above. The table was now in the center of thefloor, spread with some hasty refreshments, of which Captain Demeréinvited the forlorn travelers to partake. At the other end lay adraughtsman's board, a Gunter's scale, a pair of dividers and othermaterials, where he had been trying to reduce to paper and topographicaldecorum for transference to an official report a map of the region whichRayetaeh, a chief from Toquoe, who had visited the fort that afternoon,had drawn on the sand of the parade ground with a flint-headed arrow.The officer had found this no slight task, for Rayetaeh was prone tomeasure distance by the time required to traverse it—"two warriors, acanoe, and one moon" very definitely meaning a month's journey bywatercourse, but requiring some actively minute calculation to bring thespace in question to the proportional scale. Rayetaeh might beconsidered the earliest cartographer of this region, and some of hismaps, copied from the sand, are extant to this day. Captain Demeré laidthe papers of this unfinished task carefully aside, and by way of givinghis hospitality more grace took the head of the table himself.

But Odalie could not eat, and wept steadily on as if for the purpose ofsalting her food with tears, and Fifine's hunger seemed appeased by thefeast of her eyes. Now and again her head in its little white[79] mob-capturned actively about, and she seemed as if she might have entered upona series of questions save for the multiplicity of objects thatenthralled her attention at once. Captain Demeré desisted frominsistence after one or two well-meant efforts, and the man who hadserved the table waited in doubt and indecision.

"It's a hard life for women on the frontier," the officer observed as ifin polite excuse for Odalie's ill-mannered tears that she could notcontrol.

"And for men," she sobbed, thinking of Alexander and marveling if theIndians would carry him on without resistance to Choté,—for he couldnot know she had found lodgement in the fort,—or further still andenslave him—many captives had lived for years in Indian tribes—she hadheard of this even in Carolina; or would they murder him in sometrifling quarrel or on the discovery of his nationality or to makeeasier the robbery of the packhorses. Ah, why had she brought so much;why had she hampered their flight and risked their lives for thesepaltry belongings, treasures to the Indians, worth the shedding of muchblood? How could she have sacrificed to these bits of household geareven her own comfort! She remembered, with an infinite yet futile wishto recall the moment, how eagerly Sandy had urged the abandonment ofthese poor possessions, that she might herself[80] mount the horse and easeher bleeding and torn feet. Is every woman an idolater at heart, Odaliewondered. Do they all bow down, in the verity of their inner worship, toa few fibers of woven stuff and some poor fashioning of potter's clay,and make these feeble, trivial things their gods? It seemed so to her.She had bled for the things she had brought through the wilderness. Shehad wept for others that she had left. And if for such gear Sandy hadcome to grief—"I wonder—I wonder if I could find a pretext to care forthem still!"

But she only said aloud, with a strong effort to control her attention,"And for men, too."

"Men must needs follow when duty leads the way," said Captain Demeré, atrifle priggishly.

Odalie, trying to seem interested, demanded, lifting her eyes, "And whatdo women follow?"

He had had close observation of the fact that the pioneers gave heavyhostages to fate in their wives and children, and a terrible advantageto a savage foe, and the very bravery of so many of these noblehelpmeets only proved the value of all they risked. He could notelaborate, however, any scheme by[81] which a new country should be enteredfirst by the settlers aided by a strong occupancy of soldiery, and onlywhen the lands should be cleared and the savages expelled the women andchildren venture forth. So he said:—

He had a smile in his eyes as if appealing to her clemency not to taxhim with ascribing a humbler motive to the women than to the men, as hewas only making talk and spoke from a natural deprecation of dangers tonon-combatants who of right should be exempt from peril. His eyes, whichwere large, were of a color between gray and brown—darker than the oneand lighter than the other. His hair was brown and smooth; he wasslender and tall; his aquiline nose and finely cut lips gave a certaincast of distinction to his face, although the temples were slightlysunken and the thinness of his cheek revealed the outline of the jaw andchin which showed determination and force, despite his mild expressionat present. Josephine fixed an amazed stare upon his polished shoes ashe crossed his legs, never having seen any men's foot-gear save a buskinof deer hide.

"The men have a natural interest in warfare," suggested Odalie,forlornly, seeking to be responsive to his conversational efforts.

"Warfare!" exclaimed Captain Demeré, with[82] sudden animation. "Contentionwith savages is not warfare! It cannot be conducted on a singlerecognized military principle." He went on to say that all militarytactics counted for naught; the merely mechanical methods of movingbodies of troops were unavailable. Discipline, the dexterities ofstrategy, an enlightened courage, and the tremendous force ofesprit decorps were alike nullified.

The problem of Indian fighting in America was then far greater than ithas been since the scene has shifted to the plains, the densely woodedcharacter of the tangled wilderness affording peculiar advantage to theskulking individual methods of the savage and embarrassing inconceivablythe more cumbrous evolutions of organized bodies. But long beforeCaptain Demeré's time, and often since, the futility of opposing regularscientific tactics to the alert wiles of the savage native in his owndifficult country has been commented upon by observers of militarymethods, and doubtless recognized in the hard knocks of experience bythose whose fate it has been to try again the experiment.[6]

"As to military ethics," he added, "to induce the Indian to accept andabide by the principles governing civilized warfare seems animpossibility. He cannot be constrained for a pledge of honor to foregoan advantage. He will not respect his[83] parole. He continually violatesand sets at naught the provisions of his solemn treaty."

Odalie would not ask if the white man never broke faith with the red—ifthe Indian had not been taught by example near at hand of what brittlestuff a treaty was made. It was not worth while to reason logically witha mere man, she said to herself, with a little secret sentiment ofderision, which served to lighten a trifle the gloom of her mentalatmosphere, and since she could not eat and little backwoods Fifine'seyes had absorbed her appetite, it was just as well that Hamish, who hadbeen greatly interested in being shown over the fort by the jollyCorporal O'Flynn, appeared at the door with the intelligence that theirquarters were assigned them. The courteous Captain Demeré handed her tothe door, and she stepped out from the bizarre decorated mess-hall intothe dark night, with the stars showing a chill scintillation as of theapproach of winter in their white glitter high in the sky, and thelooming bastion close at hand. The barracks were silent; "tattoo" hadjust sounded; the great gates were closed, and the high walls shut offthe world from the deserted parade.

Naught was audible in all the night save the measured tread of a sentrywalking his beat, and further away, seeming an echo, the step ofanother[84] sentinel, while out in the wilderness the scream of a wildcatcame shrilly on the wind from the darkness where Alexander roamed withsavage beasts and still more savage men far from the sweet security sotrebly protected here.

Not even the flare of another big homelike fire in the cabin assigned toher could efface the impression of the bleak and dark loneliness outsidethe walls of the fort, and when the three were together, untrammeled bythe presence of others, they were free to indulge their grief and theirawful terror for husband and brother and father. They could not speak ofit, but they sat down on a buffalo rug spread before the fire, and allthree wept for the unuttered thought. The suspense, the separation ofthe little party, seemed unbearable. They felt that they might betterhave endured anything had they been together. Perhaps it was well forthe elder two that their attention was diverted now and again by theeffort to console Fifine in a minor distress, for with the ill-adjustedsense of proportion peculiar to childhood she had begun to clamor loudlytoo for her cat—hermignonne, herdouce fillette that she hadbrought so far in her arms or on her back.

Alas, poor Fifine! to learn thus early how sharper than a serpent'stooth it is to have a thankless child! For indeed Kitty might have[85]seemed to lie under the imputation of having merely "played baby" inorder to secure free transportation. At all events, she was a cat now,the only one in the fort, and for all she knew in the settlement. Thedouce mignonne was in high elation, now walking the palisades, nowpeeping in at a loop-hole in the upper story of one of the block-houseswhere a sentinel was regularly on guard, being able to scan from thejutting outlook not only the exterior of the fort on two sides, but avast extent of darkling country. In his measured tramp to and fro in theshadowy apartment lighted only by the glimmer of the night without, hesuddenly saw a flicker at the loop-hole he was approaching, caught atransient glimpse of a face, the gleam of a fiery eye, and he nearlydropped his loaded firelock in amazement.

He walked to the loop-hole and looked far down from the projecting walland along the parapet of the curtain and the scarp to the oppositebastion with its tower-like block-house.

Nothing—all quiet as the grave or the desert. He could hear the riversing; he could see in the light of the stars, and a mere flinder of amoon,[86] the clods of earth on the ground below,—naught else. For thedouce mignonne, with her back all handsomely humped, had suddenlysprung aside and fled down the interior slope of the rampart into theparade and over to the cook's quarters neighboring the kitchen. Shenosed gleefully about among pots and kettles, feeling very much at homeand civilized to the verge of luxury; she pried stealthily, every inch acat, into the arrangements for to-morrow's breakfast, with a noiselessstep and a breathless purr, until suddenly a tin pan containing beanswas tumultuously overturned, being within the line of an active spring.For thedouce fillette had caught a mouse, which few sweet littlegirls are capable of doing;—a regular domestic fireside mouse, a thingwhich thedouce fillette had not seen in many weeks.

The stir in the neighboring cabin did not affright Kitty, and when theofficers' cook, a veritable African negro, suddenly appeared with anebony face and the rolling whites of astonished eyes, she exhibited hercapture and was rewarded by a word of commendation which she quiteunderstood, although it was as outlandish as the gutturals ofWillinawaugh.

When the night was nearly spent, a great star, splendidly blazing in thesorceries of a roseate haze, seemed to conjure into the blackness a coldglimmer of gray light above the high, bleak, ser[87]rated summit line ofthe mountains of the eastern horizon, showing here and there white blankintervals, that presently were revealed as stark snowy domes rising intothe wintry silence of a new day. The resonant bugle suddenly sounded thereveillé along the far winding curves of the river, rousing greetings ofmorning from many a mountain crag, and before the responsive echoes ofthe forest were once more mute the parade was full of the commotionelicited by the beating of the drums; shadowy military figures werefalling in line, and the brisk authoritative ringing voice of the firstsergeant was calling the roll in each company.

And on the doorstep of Odalie's cabin, when Josephine opened the door,sat thedouce mignonne with her most babified expression on her face,now and again mewing noiselessly, going through the motions of grief,and cuddling down in infantile style when with wild babbling cries ofendearment the little girl swooped up maternally the renegade cat.

CHAPTER IV

With the earliest flush of dawn Hamish MacLeod was seeking one of theofficers in order to solicit a guide to enable him to go in search ofhis brother with some chance of success.

Captain Stuart, whom he finally found at the block-house in thenorthwestern bastion, was standing on the broad hearth of the greathall, where the fire was so brightly aflare that although it was day theplace had all the illuminated effect of its aspect of last night. Theofficer's fresh face was florid and tingling from a recent plunge in thecold waters of the Tennessee River. He looked at Hamish with anunchanged expression of his steady blue eye, and drawing the watch fromhis fob consulted it minutely.

"The hunters of the post," he said, still regarding it, "have been gonefor more than half an hour. There is no use in trying to overtake them.They have their orders as to what kind of game they are to bring in."[89]

He smiled slightly, with the air of a man who in indulgent condescensionwould humor natural anxiety and overlook the effort of intermeddling,and as he returned the watch to his pocket, Hamish felt dismissed fromthe presence. The sun was well over the great range of purple bronzemountains in the east, their snowy domes a-glister in the brilliancebetween the dark slopes below and the blue sky above, and the fort, ashe came forth, was a scene of brisk activity. The parade ground hadalready been swept like a floor, and groups of soldiers were gatheredabout the barracks busily burnishing and cleaning their arms,pipe-claying belts and rotten-stoning buckles and buttons, and at thefurther end near the stables horses were in process of being groomed andfed; one of them, young and wild, broke away, and in a mad scamper, withtossing mane and tail, and head erect and hoofs scattering the gravel,plunged around and around the enclosure, baffling his groom. Adrill-sergeant was busy with an awkward squad; another squad withoutarms, in charge of a corporal, was marching and marching, making noprogress, but vigorously marking time, whether for exercise ordiscipline Hamish could hardly determine, for he began to have a veryawesome perception of the rigor of authority maintained in this frontierpost. He had noticed—and the gorge of a freeman had[90] risen at thesight—a soldier mounted high upon a trestle, facetiously called ahorse, and he was well aware that this was by no means a new and a merrygame. Hamish wavered a little in his mental revolt against the powersthat be, as he noticed the reckless devil-may-care look of the man. Hewas a ruddy young fellow; he had a broad visage, with a wide, facetiousred-lipped mouth, a quick, blithe, brown eye, and a broad, blunt nose.Hamish knew intuitively that this was the typical inhabitant, thenative, so to speak, of the guard-house; his sort had ridden thewooden-horse, for many a weary hour in every country under the sun, andwhen an Indian's tomahawk or a Frenchman's bullet should clear the ranksof him, the gap would be filled by a successor so like him in spiritthat he might seem a lineal descendant instead of a mere successor inthe line. He had long ago been dubbed the "Devil's Dragoon," and helooked down with a good-humored glance at a bevy of his comrades, whofrom the door of the nearest log-cabin covertly cast gibes at him,calling outsotto voce, "Right about wheel—Trot!—March!"

In another quarter of the parade the regular exercise was in progress,and Hamish listened with interest to the voice of the officer as it rangout crisp and clear on the frosty air.

A resonant detonation of blank cartridges—and all the live echoesleaped in the woods, while the smoke drifted about the parade andglimmered prismatic in the sun, and then cleared away, escaping over theramparts and blending with the timorous dissolving mists of the morning.

Several Indians had come in through the open gate, some arrayed infeather or fur match-coats and others in buckskin shirt and leggings,with their blankets purchased from the traders drawn up about theirears; they were standing near the walls of one of the block-houses tosee the drill. A certain expectancy hung upon this group as they watchedthe movements of the men now loading anew.

A sudden swift facial expression went along the[92] line with a formidableeffect. With the simultaneous show of strong teeth it was as if eachsoldier had fiercely snarled like a wild beast. But each had only bittenthe end of the cartridge.

The eyes of the Indians followed with an unwinking, fascinated stare theswift, simultaneous movement of the rank as of one man, every muscleanimated by the same impulse.

Once more the loud, sharp, clash of metal rising to a menace of emphasiswith the succeeding,—

And as hard upon the clatter of the ramrods, slipping back into theirgrooves, came the orders—

"Advance—Arms!" the Cherokees drew a long breath as of the relief fromthe tension of suspense. They were evidently seeking to discern theutility of these strange military gyrations. This the Indians, althoughalways alert to perceive and adopt any advantage in arms or militarymethod, despite their characteristic tenacity to their ancient customs[93]in other matters, could not descry. They had, even at this early day,almost discarded the bow and arrow for the firelock, wherever or howeverit could be procured, but the elaborate details of the drill baffledthem, and they regarded it as in some sort a mystery. Their owndiscipline had always sufficed, and their military manœuvres, theirmarch in single file or widely extended lines, their skulking approach,stalking under cover from tree to tree, were better suited, as even someof their enemies thought, for military movements, than tacticalprecision, to the broken character of the country and the dense forestof the trackless wilderness.

They noticed with kindling eyes a brisk reprimand administered toCorporal O'Flynn, when Lieutenant Gilmore called attention to the factthat one of the men had used three motions instead of the prescribed twomotions in charging with cartridge, and two motions, instead of one, inramming down cartridge. Corporal O'Flynn's mortification was painted ina lively red on his fresh Irish cheek, for this soldier was of a squadwhose tuition in the manual exercise had been superintended by no less atactician than himself.

"Faith, sir," he said to his superior officer, "I don't know what ailsthat man. He has motion without intelligence. Like thim windmills, ye'llremember, sir, we seen so much on the Continent.[94] He minds me o' thim inthe way he whur-r-ls his ar-rms."

The lieutenant—they had served together in foreign countries—laughed atrifle, his wrath diverted by the farcical suggestion, and the instantthe command to break ranks had been given, Corporal O'Flynn, with thedelinquent under close guard, convoyed him to the scene of the exploitsof the awkward squad, where he might best learn to discard the freegestures of the windmills of the Continent of Europe.

"To disgrace me afore the officers," said Corporal O'Flynn, "and Ifairly responsible for ye! I larned ye all ye know—and for ye to showthe leftenant how little 'tis! Ye've got to quit that way of loadingwith ca'tridge with as many motions as an old jontleman feeling for hissnuff-box! I'm fairly responsible for yez. I'm yer sponsor in thisbusiness. I feel like yer godfathers, an' yer godmothers, an' yer maidenaunt. I never seen a man so supple! Ye have as much use of yer hands asif ye was a centipede!"

The matter and manner of this discourse tried the gravity of the awkwardsquad, but no one dared to laugh, and Corporal O'Flynn himself was asgrave as if it were a question of the weightiest importance involved, ashe stood by and watched for a time the drill of the men.[95]

The Indians turned their attentive eyes to Captain Stuart and CaptainDemeré, who were both upon the terre-pleine at the shoulder-point of abastion where one of the twelve cannon, mounteden barbette, lookedgrimly forth over the parapet. The gunners were receiving someinstructions which Stuart was giving in reference to serving the piece;now and again it was pointed anew; he handled the heavy sponge-staff asif in illustration; then stepped swiftly back, and lifted the match, asif about to fire the gun. The Indians loitering in the shade watched themartial figure, the sun striking full on the red coat and cocked hat,and long, heavy queue of fair hair hanging on his shoulders, and as hestood erect, with the sponge-staff held horizontally in both hands, theyturned and looked with a common impulse at one another and suddenly spatupon the ground. The sentry in a sort of cabin above the gate—agate-house, so to speak—maintained a guard within as well as without,for an outer sentinel was posted on the crest of the counterscarp beyondthe bridge; he kept his eye on the Cherokees, but he did not note theirlook. He was not skilled in deciphering facial expression, nor did heconceive himself deputed to construe the grimaces of savages. Gazingwithout for a moment, he turned back and cast a glance of kindly concernon Hamish MacLeod,[96] who was disconsolately strolling about, not daringto go back and encounter the reproaches of Odalie, who doubtless thoughthim even now in the wilderness with a searching party, too urgent toadmit of the time to acquaint her with so hasty a departure—and yetstriving against his eagerness to go on this very errand, relying on thesuperior wisdom of the officers even while rebelling against it. Allthat he observed tended to confirm this reliance. How safe it was here!How trebly guarded! Even to his callow experience it was most obviousthat whatever fate held in store for this garrison, whose lives wereintrusted to the wisdom and precaution of the commandant, surprise wasnot among the possibilities. He remembered anew poor Sandy, far fromthese stanch walls, the very citadel of security, within which he feltso recreant; and as he thought again of the perils to which his brotherwas exposed, and a possibly impending hideous fate, he felt aconstriction about his throat like the clutch of a hand. The tears roseto his eyes—and through them as he looked toward the gate he saw Sandycoming into the fort! In the extremity of the revulsion of feelingHamish gave a sudden shrill yell that rang through the woods like awar-whoop. Even the Indians, still loitering in the diminishing shadowof the block-house, started at the sound and gazed at him amazed,[97] as hedashed across the parade and flung his arms around his brother. Sandy,who had had his own terrors to endure concerning the fate of his family,was not altogether appreciative of their terrors for his sake. He feltamply capable of taking care of himself, and if he were not—why, hisscalp was not worth saving! He extricated himself with unflatteredsurprise from Hamish's frantic embrace that was like the frenzied hug ofa young bear and made his ribs crack.

"That's enough, Hamish; that's enough!" he said. "Of course I'm safe,all right. That's enough."

He advanced with what grace he could command after such an exhibition toshake hands with the two officers near the sally-port and thank them forthe shelter the fort had afforded his family.

And here was Odalie,—for a good-natured soldier, one of the boat's crewof the previous evening, had instantly run to her cabin with the news ofthe arrival—restored to her normal poise in an instant, in thetwinkling of an eye, by the shattering of her dismal forebodings in theglad reality of MacLeod's safety. So composed was her manner, so calmlyhappy, that Captain Stuart could not forbear to unmask the sham, and letthe poor man know how he had been bewept yesterday at even.

"We were very glad to take in the wanderers,[98] although I cannot say itwas a cheerful scene. I never realized until Mrs. MacLeod reached thegate here the meaning of the phrase 'dissolved in tears.'"

Alexander looked anxiously at his wife—had she found the journey, then,so vexatious?

"I was tired and dusty," she said demurely, as if in explanation. "Myshoes—one of them was in tatters; and, Sandy, I wasso ashamed."

Captain Stuart stared at her for a moment and broke into a laugh."That's putting the shoe on the other foot, at all events," he said.

He and Captain Demeré, accompanied by the newcomer, turned into theblock-house, in order to question Sandy as to any information he mighthave been able to acquire concerning French emissaries, the dispositionof the Cherokees, the devastation of the Virginia settlements, and anyfurther news of General Forbes and the fall of Fort Duquesne now calledFort Pitt. However, Sandy had naught to report, save the angry threatwith the tomahawk which gave way upon the assurance that the party wasFrench. In the solitary journey with those who had resigned their boatto Willinawaugh, he had experienced no worse treatment than thedestruction of his pocket compass. With this at first they had beenhighly delighted, but some ten miles from the fort they[99] had been joinedby an Indian who declared he had seen such things in Carolina, doubtlessamong land-surveyors, and who stigmatized it as a "land-stealer,"forthwith crushing it with his tomahawk. MacLeod had expected thisrevelation to bring about ill-feeling, but the party shortly met thehunters of the post, who had insisted on conducting him to the fort onsuspicion of being a Frenchman.

These pioneers never forgot that day, a rich, languid day of thelingering St. Martin's summer-tide. What though in the early morn thefrost had lain in rime as white as snow on the bare branches of thegreat trees where now the yellow sunshine dripped in liquid light! Atender haze like that of spring suffused the depths of the forest, thegleaming, glancing reaches of the river, the level summit-lines of thegreat massive purple mountains of the west, and half concealed, andshifting half revealed, always elusively, the fine azure snow-cappeddomes against the pearl-tinted eastern sky. What though the flowers weredead, the leaves had fled, the woods were bare and rifled,—when thenecromancy of the powers of the air filled all the winter day withsweet, subtle odors that excelled the fragrance of summer, as a memorymight outvie the value of the reality, seeming to exhale now from theforest, and again from the river, and anon from some quality of thebeneficent sunshine, or to exist[100] in ethereal suspension in the charmedatmosphere. Nature was in such blessed harmony, full of gracefulanalogy; a bird would wing his way aloft, his shadow careering throughthe sun-painted woods below; a canoe with its swift duplication in thewater would fly with its paddles like unfeathered wings down thecurrents of the river; those exquisite traceries of the wintry woods,the shadows of the leafless trees, would lie on a sandy stretch likesome keen etching, as if to illustrate the perfection of the lovelydendroidal design and proportion of the growth it imaged; now and againthe voice of herds of buffalo rose thunderously, muffled by distance; adeer splashed into the river a little above the fort, and gallantlybreasting the current, swam to the other side, while a group of soldiersstanding on the bank watched his progress and commented on his prowess.No shot followed him; the larders were filled, and orders had been givento waste no powder and ball.

The newcomers were made most heartily welcome in the settlement near thefort, as newcomers were apt to be in every pioneer hamlet, whatevertheir quality; for the frontiersmen, in their exposed situation,earnestly appreciated the strength in numbers. But this gratulation wasof course infinitely increased when the arrivals were, like these,people of character, evidently so valuable an addition to thecommunity.[101] Finally several of the settlers persisted in carrying offSandy to look at a fertile nook where the river swung round in a bend,earnestly recommending the rich bottom lands for the growth of corn, andthe crest of the hill with a clear free-stone spring for that home hesought to plant in the far west. Hamish went too,—he could not bearSandy to be out of his sight and was "tagging" after him as resolutelyand as unshake-off-ably as when he was four and Sandy was twelve yearsof age.

In their absence Odalie and Josephine and thedouce mignonne sat onthe doorstep of their latest entertainer, and watched the shadows andsunshine shift in the woods, and listened to the talk of their hostess.And here was where the trail of the serpent began to be manifest; forthis old woman was a professed gossip, and Odalie speedily learned thepoints of view from which the settlement about Fort Loudon ceased topresent the aspect of the earlier Paradisaic era.

Mrs. Halsing had a hard, set visage, and was very shrewd,—none theworse gossip for that,—and went straight to the weak point, andunraveled the tangle of mystery in any subject that presented itself fordiscussion. She was thin and angular and uncultivated, and had evidentlycome of people who had been used to small advantages in education andbreeding. Equally humble of origin was[102] another of Odalie's futureneighbors, with a sort of homespun dress made after the fashion called a"short gown," a red petticoat, and a pair of moccasons in lieu of shoes.Her face was as broad as the moon, and as bland. Much smiling had worndimples around her mouth instead of wrinkles in her forehead. She, too,had a keen gleam of discernment in her eyes, but tempered with aperception of the sweetly ludicrous in life, which converted folly intothe semblance of fun. She seemed to love her comfort, to judge by herleisurely motions and the way her arms fell into easy foldings, but thewife of a pioneer could never have lived at ease in those days. She satopposite Mrs. Halsing, by the cabin door, on a bench which the hostesshad vacated in her favor, adopting instead an inverted tub, and althoughadmitting as true much that was said, Mrs. Beedie advanced palliatingtheories which, paradoxically enough, while they did not contradict themain statement, had all the effect of denial.

For her part, said Mrs. Halsing, she did not see what anybody who wassafe in Virginia or Carolina, or anywhere else, would come to thiscountry for. She wouldn't, except that her husband was possessed! Thesight of a road put him into a "trembly fit." He was moving west to getrid of civilization, and he was as uncivilized as a "bar himself, or anInjun."[103]

Odalie learned that a number of the men were wild, roving, roaringfellows, who came here because they hated law and order; then, withoutcontradiction, Mrs. Beedie's exposition tended to show that it was a newcountry with splendid prospects and they desired to take advantage ofits opening opportunities; some of them being already poor, sought herecheaper homes, with more chance for development.

And, pursuing the interpretation of her side of the shield, Mrs. Halsingdetailed the fact that some people love change and adventure, because nomatter what the Lord gave 'em they wouldn't fold their hands and bethankful. Were the Rush people poor and oppressed in Carolina? Mightywell off, they seemed to her—had cows, if the wolves hadn't got 'em,and had owned property and held their heads mighty high where they camefrom, and claimed kin with well-to-do people in England. People saidCaptain Stuart said he knew who they were—but the Lord only knew whatCaptain Stuart knew! Then Mrs. Halsing further unfolded the fact thatMrs Rush's husband had been the son of a bishop, but had got among thedissenters, and had been cast out like a prodigal, because he took topreaching.

Thereupon he emigrated to America and was seized with a mission to theIndians, that fastened upon him like a plague; and he lost his scalp andhis life—not even a red Indian would tolerate the doctrine he set up asthe Word! And Mrs. Halsing pursed her lips with a truly orthodox fixity.And now we have no religion at the fort and the settlement.

But here Mrs. Beedie took up her testimony with unction and emphasis. Wehad Captain Stuart!

Mrs. Halsing gave a sudden cry of derision like the abrupt squawk of ajay-bird. Captain Stuart was not a humble man. That back of his wasnever bent! She wondered if his heart had ever felt the need of aught.

"Yes," Mrs. Beedie affirmed. "When one of the soldiers died of thepleurisy last winter in the fort and Captain Demeré was ill himself,Captain Stuart read the service all solemn and proper, and had men tomarch with arms reversed and fire a volley over the grave."

Mrs. Halsing rose to the occasion by demanding what good such evidencesof religion might do in such a lot as there was at the fort. Forgettingher scorn of the bishop's son, who had taken to Methodism and Indians,she set forth the fact that the whole settlement was given todances—that the settlers with their wives and daughters, not content[105]with dances at home, must needs go to the fort on state and specialoccasions, such as Christmas, and there participate in the ball, as theycalled it, given in the officers mess-hall. They went in daylight, anddid not return till daylight, and the fiddle it sang the whole nightthrough! And cards—the soldiers played cards, and the settlers too; andthe officers, they played "loo," as they called it, as if that made itany better. Even Captain Demeré! This latter phrase occurred sofrequently in Mrs. Halsing's prelection that it created a sort ofmitigating effect, and made the enormity it qualified gain a trifle ofrespectability from the fact that Captain Demeré countenanced it. Odalieknew already that he was the commandant, and it was plain to be seenthat Captain Demeré stood first in Mrs. Halsing's estimation. And theofficers all, she declared, the captains, the frisky lieutenants, andthe ensigns, all drank tafia.

"They are deprived, I will say, by the slowness and seldomness of theexpress from over the mountains. But if they are a sober set, it isagainst their will, and that I do maintain," Mrs. Halsing added, turningan unflinching front toward Mrs. Beedie. Then resuming her dissertationto Odalie:—

"But there's one thing that rests on my mind.[106] I can't decide which oneit belongs to, Captain Stuart or Captain Demeré. Did ye see—I know yedid—a lady's little riding-mask on the shelf of the great hall. Ye musthave seen it,"—lowering her voice,—"a love token?"

"Oh," said Odalie, in a casual tone and with a slight shrug of theshoulders, not relishing the intrusive turn of the disquisition, "asouvenir, perhaps, from the colonies or over seas."

"La, now!" cried Mrs. Halsing, baffled and disconcerted, "you're asFrench as a frog!"

Recovering herself, she resumed quickly. "It's the deceitfulness ofCaptain Stuart that sets me agin him. Ye must be obleeged to know hecan't abide the Injuns. He keeps watch day and night agin 'em. Yet theythink everything o' Captain Stuart! Theyall prize him. Now don't yeknow such wiles as he hev got for them must be deceit?"

Odalie made an effort to say something about magnetism, but it seemedinadequate to express the officer's bonhomie, when Mrs. Halsingcontinued:

"Ye never knowhow to take Captain Stuart," she objected. "Beforefolks he'll behave to Captain Demeré as ceremonious and polite as ifthey had just met yesterday; but if you hear them talking off together,in another minute he'll be rollicking around as wild as a buck, andcalling him 'Quawl—I say Quawl!'"[107]

She evidently resented this familiarity to the dignified officer, andOdalie pondered fruitlessly on the possible ridicule involved in beingcalled "Quawl."

In this remote frontier fort a strong personal friendship had sprung upbetween the two senior officers which not only promoted harmony in theirown relations, but a unanimity of sentiment in the exertion of authoritythat redoubled its force, for the garrison was thus debarred from thesupport on a vexed question of the suspicion of a dissentient mind inhigh quarters. Stuart had chanced to address his friend as "Paul," in afraternal aside on an unofficial occasion, and one or two of the Indiansoverhearing it, and unaccustomed to the ceremony of a surname, had thusaccosted him,—to Stuart's delight in the incongruity that thisfamiliarity should be offered to the unapproachable Demeré, rather thanto himself, whose jovial methods might better warrant the slack use of aChristian name. Moreover, "Paul" was transmogrified as "Quawl," theCherokees never definitely pronouncing the letter P; and thereafter inmoments of expansive jollity Stuart permitted himself the liberty ofimitation in saying "Quawl," and sometimes "Captain Quawl."

As Odalie puzzled over this enigma, Mrs. Halsing became more personalstill, having noticed during the pause the crystal clearness of hervisitor's[108] eyes, the fairness of her complexion, the delicacy of herbeauty, her refinement, and the subtle suggestion of elegance thatappertained to her manner, and—

"We were lacking somewhat in this world's goods. And we wish to make aprovision for our little girl. We are young and don't care forprivation."

"I walked all the way here from New River," cried Odalie, "and not bythe direct route, either—not by the old 'Warrior's Path.' We came byway of the setting sun, as Willinawaugh has it."

"You can't work," Mrs. Halsing's eyes narrowed as she measured thefigure, slight and delicate despite its erect alertness.

"I can spin two hanks of yarn a day, six cuts to the hank," boastedOdalie. "I can weave seven yards of woolen cloth a day—my linen is allten hundred. And I can hoe corn like a squaw."

"That's what you'll be in this country—a squaw! All women are. You'llhave to hoe all[109] the corn you can plant." Mrs. Halsing shook her headmournfully from side to side. "I'd like to see the coast towns agin. IfI was as young as you I'd not tarry, I'd not tarry in the wilderness."

Odalie was all unaffected by her arguments, but this talk, so deadly tothe progressive spirit of the pioneer settlements, and so rife then andlater, was, she knew, inimical to content. The disaffection of those whoremained to complain wrought more evil against the permanence of thesettlements than the desertion of the few who quitted the frontier toreturn to the towns of the provinces. She welcomed, therefore, withardor the reappearance of Sandy and Hamish from their tour ofinvestigation of the site of their new home, and her eyes sparkledresponsively as she noted their enthusiasm. She was glad to be againhanging on Sandy's right arm, while Hamish hung on his left, and Fifine,with herfillette toute chérie, toddled on in front.

Very cheerful the fort looked to Odalie as they approached. Theafternoon dress-parade was on. The men were once more in full uniform,instead of the pioneer garb of buckskin shirt and leggings and moccasonswhich had won such universal approval, and was so appropriate to generaluse that it was almost recognized as a fatigue uniform. The sun wasreddening upon the still redder ranks of scarlet coats that took even ahigher grade of color[110] from the effect of the white belts and theburnished metallic glitter of the gun-barrels. A different effect wasafforded by the dress of a small body of militia from the provinces thathad recently reinforced the garrison, whose dark blue had a rich butsubsidiary tone and abated the glare of the ranks of scarlet, even whileheightening the contrast. The Indians, always gathering from their townsup the river to revel in this feast of color and spectacle of militarypomp, so calculated to impress them with the superior capacity andknowledge of the arts of warfare possessed by the white race, hadmustered in stronger numbers than usual and stood in rows about thewalls of the block-houses or along the interior slopes of the rampart.

In groups near the gate were some of the Cherokee women, huddled inblankets, although one wore a civilized "short gown" that had acuriously unrelated look to her physiognomy and form. Their countenanceswere dull and lack-luster, and the elder hag-like and hideous, but asthe new settlers passed the group of squaws a broadside of bright blackeyes, a fresh, richly tinted, expressionless, young face, and a stringof red beads above a buckskin garb that was a sort of tunic, half shirt,half skirt, only partly revealed by the strait folds of a red blanketgirt about a slender, erect figure, reminded the observant Odalie of theclaim to a[111] certain sort of beauty arrogated for the youthful amongthese denizens of the woods—a short-lived beauty, certainly.

Fifine had caught sight of other children, the families of the settlershaving gathered here to witness the parade. Here, too, were many of themen; now a hunter, leaning on his rifle, with a string of quail, whichhe called "pat-ridges," tied to one another with thongs detached fromthe fringes of his buckskin shirt and looking themselves like some sortof feathered ornament, as they hung over his shoulder and almost to hisknee, and a brace of wild turkeys, young and tender, at his belt;another, attracted from the field by the military music and the prospectof the rendezvous of the whole settlement, still carried a long sharpknife over his shoulder, with which he had been cutting cane, clearingnew ground. A powerful fellow leaning on an ax was exhibiting to anotherand an older settler a fragment of wood he had brought, and bothexamined with interest the fiber; this was evidently a discovery, thetree being unknown in the eastern section, for these people were as iftransplanted to a new world.

Odalie's attention was suddenly arrested by a man of gigantic build,wearing the usual buckskin garb, and with a hard, stern, fierce face,that seemed somehow peculiarly bare; he wore no queue, it is[112] true, forat this period many of the hunters cut their hair for convenience, andonly the conservative retained that expression of civilization. Underhis coonskin cap his head was tied up in a red cotton handkerchief, andas he stood leaning against the red-clay wall of the rampart, talkinggravely to another settler, the children swarmed up the steep interiorslope of the fortifications behind him and from this coign of vantagebusied themselves, without let or hindrance, in pulling off his cap,untying the handkerchief, and with shrill cries of excitement andinterest exposing to view the bare poll. For the man had been scalpedand yet had escaped with his life.

Years ago it must have chanced, for the wounds had healed; but it hadleft terrible scars which the juvenile element of the settlement prizedand loved to trace as one might the map of the promised land, were suchcharts known to mere earthly map-makers. A frequent ceremony, this,evidently, for the shrill cries were of recognition rather thandiscovery, and when the unknown became a feature it was as a matter ofspeculation.

"Here! here!" exclaimed one wiry being of ten,—his limited corporealstructure, too, was incased in buckskin, the pioneer mother, like other[113]mothers, feeling no vocation toward works of supererogation in the wayof patching, and having discovered that skins of beasts resist theclutch of briers and the destructive propensities characteristic ofcallow humanity better than cloth, even of the stoutest homespunweave,—"here's where the tomahawk knocked him senseless!"

"Here's where the scalping-knife began!" cried a snaggle-toothed worthy,from the half-bent posture in which he had been surveying the forlorncicatrices of the bare poll, and digging his heels into the red-clayslope to sustain his weight.

Odalie turned her head away; it was too horrible!—or she would haveseen the tugging climb of Josephine and her triumphant emergence on theslope amongst the boys. They looked at her in surprise for a moment, butwithout resentment, for it was too good an opportunity to rehearse thehistory that so enchanted them.

"Here, here," the shrill voices began anew. "Here's where the tomahawkhit him a clip!" "An' here," shrieked out another, seizing upon Fifine'schubby little hand that her own soft finger might have the privilege ofexploring the wound, "here's where the scalping-knife circled himround!"

"The Injun begun here first, but his knife was[114] dull, an' he had to mendhis holt!" screeched a third.

"An',—an', 'n," vociferated another, almost speechless in thecontemplation of so bloody a deed, "ter git a full purchase onto it theInjun held him down by putting a foot on his breast!" He lifted his ownbare foot, itself a cruel and savage sight, scarred with the scratchingof briers and stone-bruises and the results of what is known asdew-poison—he called it "jew-pizen," and so do those of his ilk to thisgood day,—and aped the gesture so present to his imagination.

Fifine knew only too well what it all meant, as her soft infantile face,incongruously maternal with compassion, bent above the hideous record ofa hideous deed.

"All this here," cried the first expositor, sparing a sustaining hand tohold her by the elbow,—for her weight not being sufficient to drive herheels into the clay slope, she had given imminent signs of slipping downthe incline,—"all this here top of his 'ead ain't the sure enough top;the Injuns scalped that off. This is just sich top as growed since; heain't got no real top to his 'ead."

Fifine's baby hands traveled around this substitute top; her mouthquivered pitifully; then she bent down and kissed the grim wounds inseveral places with a sputter of babbling commisera[115]tion. At this momentHamish caught sight of her and advanced in great contrition. He flushedto the roots of his hair as he spoke to the man, for as a rule those fewfortunate yet unfortunate persons who had chanced to survive the crueldisaster of being scalped were exceedingly sensitive on the subject oftheir disfigurement—it was usually a subject not to be mentioned. Butthis settler looked at Hamish in surprise as the boy said, "Pray excusethe little girl, sir. I had lost sight of her and didn't know she was sovexatious with her curiosity."

"No, no," returned the stalwart giant, in a singularly languid voice,mild and deep and pacific to the last degree. "It pleases the chil'n,an' don't hurt me."

He was busying himself in tying up the horrible exhibition in his redhandkerchief preparatory to putting on his coonskin cap, for the briskinterest the children took in disrobing, so to speak, his scalplesshead, did not extend to the task of properly accoutering it again, andrepairing the disarray they themselves had made, for they had scamperedoff through the great gate of the fort. His voice gave Hamish a sort ofintimation how they had had the hardihood to venture on thesefamiliarities with one so formidable of aspect. Hamish learned afterwardthat he had lost his scalp rather through this[116] quality of quietindulgence, so open to treachery, than to inability to keep it. Aterrible fighter he was when he was roused, though even then his utmostprowess was exerted without anger. In the Indian fights his friends hadoften exhorted him to scalp the wretches he slew, as he had beenscalped, and thus complete his revenge, for the Indians believed that ascalpless person would be excluded from the happy hunting-grounds ofheaven, their fury thus following their foes from this world into thenext.

"Let 'em have all the heaven they can git," he would remark, wiping hisbloody knife upon the mane of his horse. "I expec' to smoke the pipe o'peace with all I meet on Canaan's shore,—Cherokees, Creeks, orChickasaws,—Reg'lars, Millish, or Settlers."

For he was intensely religious and had a queer conglomeration ofdoctrines that he had picked up here and there in his rambles throughthis western world. He embraced alike the theory of purgatory and thePresbyterian tenets of predestination and justification. He had acquiredthe words of "Hail Mary!" from a French Catholic with whom he had huntedon the banks of the Sewanee, as the Indians called it, and Chauvanon, asthe Gallic tongue metamorphosed the name,—perhaps these two were thefirst white men that ever trod those bosky ways,—and[117] he believedfaithfully in total immersion as promulgated by the Baptists. He was allfor peace, like the Quakers,—peace at any price; and yet when for theentertainment of the boys at a friendly fireside he was urged to recounthow many men he had fought and killed, the long list failed only fromfailure of memory.

Hamish expected to hear no more of him after they parted, and heexperienced a sort of repulsion which found an echo in Odalie'sexclamation, when Captain Demeré proposed that Gilfillan should livewith them. "I should recommend a strong stockade if you go as far fromthe fort as the bend of the river," the officer commented, when the spotthey had selected was made known to him. "And with only two gun men," hecogitated, as he paused. "It would not be safe." Then brightening,—forthe officers of the post sought to facilitate in every way the prospectsof the settlers and the extension of the settlement,—"Take Gilfillanwith you; he's an odd fish, but he is equal to any four men, and he hasnever quite settled down since the massacre on the Yadkin where he losthis wife and children. Take Gilfillan."

A group from the fort strolled along the river-bank, and the rippleswere red under the red sunset sky, and the eastern mountains were blueand misty, and the western were purple and massive and dis[118]tinct, andthough sedges were sere and the birds gone, summer was in the air, andthey talked of hope and home.

Captain Demeré's suggestion broke discordantly on the serenity of thehour and the theme.

"Oh! oh!" cried Odalie, "and have Fifine forever tracing the map ofanguish all around that terrible head, never tiring of 'Here's where thetomahawk hit him a clip!' and 'Here's where the scalping-knife began!'"

"What a consideration!" exclaimed the officer, with some asperity. "Andif you will excuse me, how very French! The man's rifle—the finestmarksman I ever saw—is the point for your consideration. And you findhis looks not convenable."

"Fifine, herself, will be less likely to have a head like his, perhaps,if he will come and strengthen our station," suggested AlexanderMacLeod, astutely.

"Besides," said Captain Stuart, with his bluff nonchalance, "theriver-bend will be so easily famous for the good looks of the stationersthat a trifle of discount upon Gilfillan will not mar the sum total."

"And then," said Captain Demeré, "he is a very exceptional kind ofman—you are fortunate to find such a man—for a single man, in thesettlements.[119] You would not like it if he were one of the rattling,roaring blades that such irresponsible single fellows are here,usually."

"Mighty sprightly company, some of these rufflers," remarked CaptainStuart, with a twinkling eye. "Rarely good company," he averred.

"And besides," added Captain Demeré, whose extreme sensitiveness enabledhim better to appreciate her sentiment than the others, despite hisrebuke, "you need not have him in the same house with you; you can havetwo cabins within the stockade and connected by the palisades from onehouse to the other. Otherwise, in the present state of feeling among theCherokees it would hardly be safe so far from the fort."

It had been explained that Alexander was especially solicitousconcerning the choice of his location, since the quality of the land hadnot been well selected in his former home on New River. Here he hadfound in a comparatively small compass the ideal conjuncture for thosegrowths so essential to the pioneer who must needs subsist on theproduce of his own land. In that day and with the extremely limited anddifficult means of transportation, no deficit could be filled from thebase of a larger supply. The projected station, he thought, would be assafe as any other place outside the range of the guns of the fort, buthe welcomed the idea of[120] numbering among its denizens the hardy hunter,Gilfillan, and cared no more for his bald head than he did for thebroad, smooth, handsome plait of Captain Stuart's fair hair. MacLeod hadall the desperate energy of one who seeks to retrieve good fortune,although no great deal of money was involved in his earlier disasters.His father had had shipping interests, and the loss of a barque and hercargo at sea had sufficed to swamp the young man's financial craft onshore. As to the possessions of his wife's family—they were a fewinconsiderable heirlooms, some fine traditions, growing now a triflestale and moldy with age, and a brave, proud spirit in facing the world,the result of the consciousness of having a fine old record to sustain;her forefathers had been of that class of refugees from religiouspersecution whose property was of such a character and whose emergencywas so imminent that they had fled from France with little else than thegarments in which they stood. They had not prospered since, normultiplied, and Odalie was nearly the last of the family. A certaininnate refinement in both, MacLeod's gravity and dignity of carriage andthe distinction of Odalie's manner, notwithstanding its simplicity,marked their exceptional quality to a discerning judgment, despite theirprecarious plight. The two officers had grave doubts as to the wisdom oftheir adventuring so[121] boldly in the quest of fortune in these savagewildernesses, but both felt that it was well for the community thatharbored them, and each knew of isolated instances elsewhere when suchfolly had been transmuted into a potent sapience by the bounty ofuncovenanted good luck. They had experienced a sort of pleasure in theadvent of the newcomers, for Sandy's intelligence and information werefar above the average, and they were more or less isolated in thisremote frontier post from those dainty charms of toilette and mannerwhich Odalie would have found means to practice were she cast away on adesert island, all the more marked, perhaps, from their demuresimplicity and a sort of unstudied elegance.

It was only a serge gown she wore, of the darkest redhue,—murrey-colored, she called it,—but all faint vestige of thejourney had vanished, and over the long, straight bodice of those dayswas a cape or fichu of fine white cambric, embellished with a delicatetambour, one of those graceful accomplishments which her "grand'maman"had brought from France, and transmitted to a docile pupil as among thearts which should adorn a woman. The deep red and the vivid white ofthis costume comported well with her fine dark-brown hair, risingstraight from her forehead in a heavy lustrous undulation, and drawnback to be gathered into a dense knot, her fair smooth complexion, thecon[122]templative yet suave expression of her large dark eyes, and theirheavy, almost diplomatic eyelashes,—for they implied so much that theydid not say, and were altogether the most effective feature of that mosteffective face. Often Sandy, who had taken more notice of those eyes andeyelashes than any one else in the world,—although they had not beenunremarked in general,—could not decipher what she meant by them, andat other times he marveled why she should say so much with them insteadof with the means which Nature had bestowed for the expression of herviews,—of which, too, she made ample use. Those eyelashes, forinstance, indicated disdain, reproof, reproach, and yet a repudiation ofcomprehension when Captain Stuart said significantly that he hoped shefound her footing quite satisfactory to-day—she was wearing a sprucepair of prunella brodequins which had come in the pack. With his bluffraillery he inquired of her how she had the conscience to grudge herhusband the triumph of knowing that she had shed a tun of tears for hisabsence yesterday and had demanded of the commandant of the post thatthe whole strength of the garrison should instantly take the field tosearch for him.

"For discipline," she answered, with placid solemnity. "If he knew thatI care enough to weep for him instead of for my shabby shoes, myauthority[123] would be shattered. And a mutiny, under any circumstances, isnot pretty."

The river carried the officer's jovial laughter far along the lapsingcurrent that was growing steely now, reflecting a pale gray sky of veryluminous tone, beneath which the primeval woods were dark and gloomy,and the mountains on the east loomed but dimly through the gray mists,while on the west the summit-line was hard and darkly distinct. It waswinter, for all the still air; no sound of bird, no chirring of cicada,no rustle of leaf. The voice of the river rose quite alone in thesilence, and a single star seemed to palpitate in a white agitation asit listened.

And when the party sat down on the rocky ledges of the river-bank,Captain Demeré was beside Odalie, and they talked not of this newcountry lying before them, with the unread, unrecorded mystery of itspast, and the unsolved, impenetrable question of its future, but of hisown people. With her delicate tact she had evaded the continualoccupation of the general attention with her experiences andexpectations, and the details of her new home, and led him to speak ofhimself and his own interests, which he was insensibly brought to dowith little disguise, so potent were the reminiscent effects of themurrey-colored gown, and the dainty freshness of the cambric fichu, andthe delicate feminine attraction that hung about her[124] like an exquisitefragrance, and seemed, because of her lack of arrogation, less peculiarto herself than some sweet quality appertaining to the whole species ofwomankind.

She noted how the future of men like these is not with the future of thecountry. They were not to participate in the prosperity which theirpresence here might foster. While all the others looked forward theylooked backward, or perhaps aside, as at a separate life. Such is thepart a garrison must always play. She doubted if many felt it. With Mrs.Halsing, she, too, marveled if Captain Stuart felt the need of aught.

But Demeré, looking into the past as the tide of reminiscence rose, saidto a sympathetic heart a thousand things of home. Trifles came back,hitherto forgotten; sorrows seared over by time; old jests that hadoutworn the too frequent laugh at last; resolutions failing midway,half-hearted; friends heretofore dead even to memory; old adventuresconjured up anew; affections lingering about an old home, like the scentof roses when the fallen petals have left but the bare stalk; vanishedjoys, reviviscent with a new throb that was more like pain thanpleasure. And if he did not look to the future that sweet December nightof Saint Martin's summer by the placid Tennessee River, perhaps it wasas well,—oh, poor Captain Demeré!

CHAPTER V

The next day ushered in a crisis in the affairs of the would-bestationers—the house-raising began. All the men of the settlementgathered to the fore, and the cabins—a substantial double-cabin thelarger was, and the other, one room and a loft—went up as if by magic.The stockade, boles of stout young trees sawed off in lengths of twentyfeet and sharply pointed at the upper end, the other end deeply sunkeninto the ground, began to grow apace. The spring was within theenclosure—a point of vast importance in that day, since in times ofdanger from the Indians it was not necessary to sally forth from theprotection of the stockade for the indispensable water-supply forhousehold and cattle. The prospects of many an early station wereblighted by overlooking in a period of comparative peace and comfortthis urgent advantage, and many a life was taken during some desperatesortie with piggins and pails by the defenders of the stockade, whocould have held out valiantly against the savage except for the menaceof death by thirst. The officers had urged this point upon thepioneers.[126]

"Of course in any emergency," Demeré argued, "the forces at the fortwould relieve you at once. But the true military principle ought togovern even in such a minor stronghold. An unfailing water-supply oughtto be a definitely recognized necessity in every military post subjectto beleaguerment. Otherwise the station can be held only verytemporarily; one can lay in provisions and stand a siege, but drouthmeans death, for surrender is massacre."

Nevertheless, eastward at the time, and later in westward settlements,this obvious precaution was often neglected and the obvious disaster asoften ensued.

The woodland spring within the stockade was a charming and rocky spotwith no suggestion of flowing water till one might notice that the mossand mint beneath a gigantic tree were moist; then looking under a broad,flat, slab-like ledge might be descried a deep basin four feet indiameter filled with water, crystal, clear, and brown in the deepshadow—brown and liquid as the eyes of some water-nymph hidden amongthe rocks and the evergreen laurel.

And, oh joy! the day when Odalie kindled her own fire once more on herown hearth-stone—good, substantial flagging; when traversing thepassage from one room to another she could look[127] down through the opengate of the stockade at the silvery rushing of the Tennessee in itsbroad expanse under the blue sky, giving, as it swirled around, a longperspective, down the straight and gleaming reach before it curved anew.And oh, the moment of housewifely pride when the slender stock of goodswas unpacked and once more the familiar articles adjusted in theirplaces, her flax wheel in the chimney corner, her china ranged to itsbest advantage on the shelf; and often did she think about the littleblue jug that came from France and marvel what had been its fate! Allher linen that was saved, the pride of her heart, made, too, its braveshow. She had a white cloth on her table, albeit the table seemed tohave much ado to stand alone since its legs were of unequal length, andwhite counterpanes on her beds, and gay curtains at the windows openingwithin the stockade—the other side had but loop-holes—on which birdsof splendid plumage, cut from East Indian chintz, had been overcast onthe white dimity, and which looked when the wind stirred them, for therewas no glass and only a batten shutter, as if all the winged denizens ofthe brilliant tropics were seeking entrance to this happy bower; theroom had an added woodland suggestion because of the bark adhering tothe logs of the walls, for the timbers of these primitive[128] houses wereunhewn, although the daubing and the chinking were stout and close, andwith the aid of the great flaring fires stood off Jack Frost with a veryvaliant bluff.

So many things had she brought in small compass. When the fire wasa-flicker on a dull wintry afternoon, and the snow a-whirl outside, andthe tropical birds quite still on their shadowy perches against theclosed batten shutters, Odalie, Hamish, Fifine, and the cat were wont tocongregate together and sit on the buffalo rug spread on the puncheonfloor beside the hearth, and explore sundry horns of buffalo or elk inwhich many small articles of varying degrees of value had been compactlypacked. They all seemed of an age—and this a young age—when the joyousexclamations arose upon the recognition of sundry treasured trifleswhose utility had begun to be missed.

"And Lord!" exclaimed Hamish, "there's my bullet-mould—whoever wouldhave thought of that!"

"And your new ribbon; 'tis a very pretty piece," and Odalie let thelustrous undulations catch the firelight as she reeled it out. "The besttaffeta to tie up your queue."

"I don't intend to plait my hair in a queue any[129] more," Hamishdeclared contemptuously. "The men in this country," he continued with alofty air, "have too much men's work to do to busy themselves withplaiting hair and wearing a bobbing pig-tail at their ears." He shookhis own dangling curls as he spoke.

Fifine babbled out an assortment of words with many an ellipsis and manya breathy aspiration which even those accustomed to the infantinfirmities of her tongue could with difficulty interpret. Both Odalieand Hamish, bending attentive eyes upon her, discerned at last the wordsto mean that Mr. Gilfillan had no hair to plait. At this Hamish lookedblank for a moment and in consternation; Odalie exclaimed, "Oh, oh!" butFifine infinitely admired Mr. Gilfillan, and nothing doubted him worthyof imitation.

"I'll have none, but for a different reason. I'll cut my lovely locksclose with Odalie's shears as soon as she finds them," Hamish declared.

He did not dream that they were already found and bestowed in a safenook in a crevice between the chinking where they would not be againdiscovered in a hurry, for he had earlier expressed his determination toforsake the gentility of long hair in emulation of sundry young wights,the roaring blades of single men about the settlement.

Odalie was too tactful to remonstrate. "And[130] oh!" she exclaimed with asort of ecstasy. "My pouncet-box! how sweet!delicieux!" She presentedthe gold filigree at the noses successively of Hamish and Fifine and thecat, all of whom sniffed in polite ecstasy, but Kitty suddenly wiped hernose with her paw several times and then began to wash her face.

"My poppet! my poppet!" cried Fifine, ecstatically, as a quaint and tinywooden doll of a somewhat Dutch build and with both arms stretched outstraight was fished out. She snuggled it up to her lips in rapture, thenshowed it to the cat, who evidently recognized it, and as it was dancedseductively before her on the buffalo rug, put out her paw and with adelicate tentative gesture and intent brow was about to play with itafter her fashion of toying with a mouse, when one of her claws caughtin a mesh of the doll's bobinet skirt. Now the doll's finery, whilelimited in compass to minuteness, was very fine, and as Josephine'sshort shriek of indignation, "Quelle barbarie!" arose on the air, thecat turned around carrying the splendidly arrayed poppet off on herunwilling claw—to be lost, who knew where, in the wilderness! Thefrantic little owner seized the tail of themignonne toute chérie,which sent up a wail of poignant discordance; the romping Hamish, with awicked mimicry of the infantile babbling cry, "Quelle barbarie!"[131]impeded the progress of Fifine by catching the skirt of her littlejacket, called a josie; whereupon Odalie, imitating his dislocatedFrench accent and boyish hoarseness in the exclamation, "Quellebarbarie!" laid hold upon his long curly hair, held together by aribbon as an apology for a pig-tail. There ensued an excited scramblearound on the buffalo rug before the fire, during which the horn wasturned over and some of its small treasures escaped amidst the long fur.This brought Odalie to a pause, for the lost articles were buttons ofFrench gilt, and they must be found in the fur and counted; for did theynot belong to Sandy's best blue coat, and could not be dispensed with?In the course of the merry-go-round the cat's claw had becomedisentangled from the doll's frock. Fifine had released the clutch ofreprisal on the cat's tail. Hamish had been visited with a fear that theend of Fifine's josie might give way in rents before her obstinacy wouldrelax; and Odalie had not the heart to pull his hair with more crueltythan she had heretofore indulged. So the magic circle gave way by itsown impulse as it had formed, and all the heads were once more benttogether in earnest absorption in the search and the subsequentdisclosures of the buffalo horn. Such choice symposia as these wereusually reserved for the dusk of the afternoon in bad weather when theoutdoor work was done, and[132] Odalie—her house all in order—needed morelight for her other vocations. It was quite incredible how soon a loomwas set up and warping-bars constructed, and all the details in motionof that pioneer home life, which added the labor and interests ofdomestic manufacture to the other absorbing duties of the housewife thathave survived in these times of machinery and delegated responsibility.

These were the holiday moments of the day, but once when the mother andthe little girl and the cat sat intent upon the rug, their treasuresspread before them, Odalie's face paled and her heart almost sprang intoher mouth as she heard Hamish's step outside, quick and disordered. Ashe burst into the room she knew by his eyes that something of graveimport had happened. And yet, as she faced him speechless, he saidnothing. She noted his uncaring casual glance at that potent fascinator,the buffalo horn, and his hasty, unsettled gesture. He seemed resolvednot to speak—then he suddenly exclaimed solemnly:—

"Odalie, there is the prettiest creature in this settlement that youever saw in your life—and—the gracefullest!"

"A fawn?" said the mercurial Odalie, who recovered her poise as suddenlyas it was shaken.

He apprehended her sarcasm. Then, too absorbed to be angry, he revertedto himself.

"Oh," he cried with bitterness, "why do you let me go about inworshipful company with my hair like this?—" he clutched at his tousledlocks.

"Don't laugh at me," he exclaimed, "but how had you the heart—andSandy's hair always in such trim-wise, and you and Fifine like people offashion."

Odalie could but laugh in truth; she had known such splendors ascolonial life at that day could present and she was well aware how theill-equipped wife of a pioneer on the furthest frontier failed of thatchoice aspect.

"I thought," she said, still laughing, "that you were ambitious of thefashion of such coiffure as Mr. Gilfillan affects—oh, poor man!—andhad made up your mind to plait your hair no more."

Hamish took this very ill, and in dudgeon would not divulge the name andquality of the fair maiden the sight of whom had so gone to his head.But it was the next evening only that they were to attend a ball in theofficers' mess-hall at the fort, in celebration of the joys ofChristmastide, and Odalie perceived the rancor of resentment graduallydeparting[134] when he came and begged—not her pardon—but that she woulddo him the infinite favor to plait his hair. Try as he would, and he hadtried for an hour, he could not achieve a coiffure that seemedsatisfactory to him in the solicitous state of his feelings. Thisceremony she performed, perched upon what she called atabouret, whichwas nothing but a stout, square billet of wood with a cover and valanceof a dull blue fustian, while he sat at her feet, and Sandy looked onwith outward gravity, but with a twinkle in his sober eyes that madeHamish's blood boil to realize that she had told his brother of thesudden reason for a change of heart touching the mode of wearing hishair, and that they had quietly laughed at him about it. Nevertheless,now he valued every strand of it as if it were spun gold, and would haveparted with it as hardly.

The Christmas ball was indeed an affair of much splendor. Profusewreaths of holly, with berries all aflame, decorated the walls of thegreat hall, and among them the lines of buffalo horns and the antlers ofdeer and the waving banners showed with enhanced effect. From the centreof the ceiling the mystic mistletoe depended with such suggestivelywide-spreading boughs that it might seem that no fair guest could hopeto escape the penalty; this was the broad jest of the masculineentertainers. The hosts, all the commissioned officers being pres[135]ent,were in full uniform, seeming brilliant against the decorated walls andin the great flare of the fire; even lace ruffles were to be seen andmany a queue was braided and tied as fairly as Hamish's own. A huge Yulelog, such as could not be discredited by any that had ever sent upsparks and flame at this sacred season, made the great chimney place onevast scarlet glow; the door of necessity stood open, although the snowwas on the ground, and the dark, bare branches of the rows of trees leftin military alignment, down the centre of the parade, whitely glimmeredwith frost and ice akin to the chilly glitter of the wintry stars whichthey seemed to touch with their topmost boughs.

The garrison had been surprised on the previous midnight by the suddenoutbreak of the sound on the icy air of certain familiar old Christmascarols sung by a few of the soldiers, who had the memory and the voiceto compass the feat, and who had been wont for a time to steal off tothe woods to rehearse in secret, in order to bring to the Yule-tide, sosurely coming, even to these far-away fastnesses, something of theblithe association and yet the spirit of sanctity of the old rememberedYule-tides of long distances agone both of time and place. Theenthusiasm that this reminder awakened nullified all thought of thebreach of discipline. The singers were summoned into the hall by thecommandant, and the embers[136] stirred up, and they drank his health andthe king's as long as he dared let them have the liquor. And now, allunseen in the darkness, the waits were stationed at a little distance tomellow the sound, and were singing these old Christmas carols while theguests gathered. The rough martial voices rang out with a sort ofjubilant solemnity and a strongly definedtempo giusto, very naturalto men who "mark time" for their sins, and whose progress through lifeis to the sound of the drum.

The iterative beat pulsed through the open doors to the groups about thebig Yule-tide fires and those coming in out of the dark wilderness, notdaring to stir without firelock, knife, and pistol, for fear of atreacherous foe. And in the hearts and minds of the full-armed guestswas roused a sentiment not new but half-forgotten, to hear in thoseconfident, mellow, assured tones—

Between each stanza when silence came unwelcome to the ear and thechatter of tongues seemed dull and trivial a bugle sang out suddenly,its golden-sweet notes vibrating and ringing in the air in the intervalsof this sweet old hymning theme.[137]

After this tribute, such as they could pay to the holier character ofthe day and the reminder of home, the festivity and jollity began. Theintroduction was auspicious and touched the sense of the picturesque ofthose to whom life was wont to show but a sordid aspect. The settlerswere pleased with the pomp and ceremony of their reception, genuinelydelighted with the effect of the carols and the summoning up of oldmemories and homing thoughts so tenderly stirred, satisfied withthemselves and disposed to admire each other.

One would hardly have believed that there was so much finery in thesettlement—of different dates and fashions, it is true, and variousnationalities. The wife of one settler wore a good gown of brocade,although her husband seemed quite assured in his buckskins. Two or threeheads were held the higher from a proud consciousness of periwigs[7] andpowder. Mrs. Halsing had a tall, curious comb of filigree silver andgreat silver ear-rings, a sad-colored stuff gown, but a queer foreignapron across which were two straight bands of embroidery of a patternand style that might have graced a museum; Odalie, the expert,determined that the day was not far distant when she should sue for theprivilege of examining the stitch. She herself was clad in theprimrose-flowered paduasoy, with a petticoat of dark red satin and[138] allher Mechlin lace for a fichu, while pearls—her grand'maman'snecklace—were in her dark hair. Mrs. Beedie had woven her own frockwith her own sturdy hands, and with a fresh mob-cap on her head and avery fresh rose on her cheek actively danced the whole night through.

The widow of the man who had come hither to forward his passion for theministry to the Indian savages, and who had lost his life in thefruitless effort, now probably deemed dissent a grievous folly and hadreturned to earlier ways of thinking and conventional standards. Shewore no weeds—one could not here alter the fashion of one's dress, theimmutable thing, for so transitory a matter as grief. She regarded thescene with the face of one who has little share, although she wore apuce-colored satin with some fine lace frills and a modish cap on herthin hair.

But the daughter! With a lordly carriage of her delicate head that mighthave been reminiscent of her grandfather, the bishop, and yet joyousgirlish red lips, full and smiling and set about with deep dimples; withher hair of red-gold, and sapphire eyes, she was eminently calculated toshatter what poor remnant of peace of mind the young ensign and twoyoung lieutenants who clustered about her had been able to keep in thisdesert place—the more precarious since it was well[139] understood that thefair Belinda had high expectations, and as to matrimonial bait hoped forthe opportunity to "bob for whale." This gay exile herself, born andreared in the provinces and surrounded always by the little court herbeauty summoned about her, did not look forward to a life on thefrontier. She anticipated at some time an invasion of England and a lifeworthy the brilliance of her aspect, and occasionally when herinterlocutors were such as could attribute to her no braggart pride, shewould mention that she had relatives there—of good quality—who woulddoubtless be glad to receive her. The mother, poor sad-visaged martyr ofdeceit, would only draw her thin wrinkled collapsed lips the closer,holding hard hidden the fact that the girl's father had been looked uponby these relatives "of good quality" as a monster of ingratitude, and atthe same time as a candidate for a strait waist-coat, whose apostasy andvoluntary exile had hastened the good bishop's old age and broken hisheart; that the children of the ingrate would be avoided by thisconventional clique, like the leprosy, and esteemed sure to developsooner or later terrible and infinitely inconvenient heresies, andoccasion heaven only knew what bouleversement in any comely and orthodoxand reasonable method of life. She had not much vigor of sentiment, butsuch[140] flicker of hatred as could burn among the ashes of her natureglowed toward those who had cut her husband off and ostracized him, andmade of his earnest sacrificial effort to do his duty, as it wasrevealed to him, a scoff, a burlesque, a reproach, and a bittercaricature. She knew, too, how much of money, of dress, and ofconnections it would require to return to that country where they wouldhave no base from which to organize the brave campaign that thebrilliantly equipped daughter contemplated with such gay and confidentcourage.

The girl's brother, however, Hamilton Rush, five years her senior,forgetting that he was the grandson of a prelate and the son of a martyrby election, bent all the energies he had inherited from both in theeffort to build up home and wealth and a fair future in this rich land,which held out such bounties to the strong hand and the brave heart. Hewas here to-night, looking on at the scene of pleasure with as absentand absorbed a face as a London stockbroker might have worn in the midstof a financial crisis.

The brilliant mirage before the shining anticipative eyes of the fairBelinda did not preclude her from entering with youthful ardor intothese festivities nowfaute de mieux garbed in a canary-colored tabby,of which the moiré effect, as we should say nowadays, glistened andshoaled in[141] the light and the luster of the silk. It was worn openingover a skirt of white satin with yellow stripes, enclosing in each adelicate pattern of a vine of roses in several natural tints from pinkto a deep purplish red, all having that sere sort of freshness whichcomes from solicitous preservation rather than newness—like a pressedflower; one might imagine that garbed thus the galvanized widow hadcaptured the affections of the bishop's son, not then perhaps soseverely ascetic of outlook. But Miss Belinda danced as graciously withthe ensign as if she had no splendid ulterior views, and graced theminuet which Odalie and Captain Demeré led. Hamish looking at themthought that though she was as unlike Odalie as a splendid tulip differsfrom the stately, tender sweetness of the aspect of a white rose, theyboth adorned the dance like flowers in a parterre. He resolved with aglow of fraternal pride that he would tell Odalie how beautiful she wasin her primrose-tinted gown and deep red jupon with her dark hair rolledhigh, and its string of white pearls, her step so deliberate and smoothwith its precision of grace as with uplifted clasped hands she and theofficer opened the dance.

This minuet was a splendid maze to Hamish's limited experience, as thefirelight glowed and flashed on the scarlet uniforms and the delicate,dainty tints of the gowns of the ladies, giving out[142] the gloss of satinand now and again showing the soft whiteness of a bare arm held upwardto the clasp of a partner's hand in a lace ruffle and a red sleeve inthe graceful attitudes prescribed by the dance. The measured and statelystep, the slow, smooth whirl, the swinging changing postures, the fairsmiling faces and shining eyes, all seemed curiously enhanced by theenvironment—the background of boughs of holly on the walls, and themilitary suggestions of the metallic flashing of the arms resting on theline of deer antlers that encircled the room—it was like a bird singingits roundelay perched in a cannon's mouth.

Hamish himself stood against the wall, and for a time it may be doubtedif any one saw how very handsomely his "lovely locks" were plaited, sodid he court the shadows. Sandy noted with secret amusement howpersistently the boy's eyes followed the beautiful Miss Rush, for it wasevident that she was nineteen or twenty years of age, at least threeyears older than her latest admirer.

Despite his sudden infatuation, however, Hamish was a person ofexcellent good sense, and he soon saw the fatuity of this worship fromafar. "Let the ensign and the lieutenants pine to death," hethought—then with the rough old frontier joke, "I'm savingmy scalpfor the Injuns." Nevertheless he was acutely glad that his hair was likea gentleman's,[143] and when he finally ventured out of the crowd hesecured, to his great elation, a partner for one of the contra-dancesthat succeeded the minuet, for the men so greatly outnumbered the womenthat this argued considerable enterprise on a newcomer's part. Hamishhad determined to dance, if with nobody but Mrs. Halsing; but there wereother girlish flowers, somewhat overshadowed by the queens of theparterre, whom he found when his eyes had lost their dazing gloat uponthe beauty of the belle of the settlement—mere little daisies orviolets, as near half wild as himself, knowing hardly more of civilizedsociety than he did. Most of these were clad in bright homespun; one ortwo were so very young that they found it amazing sport, and in truth sodid he, although he had the style of patronizing the enterprise, toplunge out of the great hall and scamper across the snowy parade to aroom, emptied by the gradual exhaustion of the munitions it hadcontained, and now devoted to the entertainment of the children of thesettlers, who it is needless to say had come necessarily with the eldermembers of the pioneer families to participate in the gayeties of thefort. It was a danger not to be contemplated to leave them in the whollydeserted settlement; so, sequestered here in this big room, bare of allbut holly boughs upon the wall and a great fire and a bench[144] or twoabout the chimney corner, they addedéclat to the occasion of theofficers' ball by reason of the enthusiastic spirit that pervaded theChristmas games under the direction of Corporal O'Flynn. He had beendelegated to supervise and control the juvenile contingent, beingconstituted master of the revels. With his wild Irish spirit aflame hewas in his element. A finer looking Bruin than he was when enveloped ina great bearskin never came out of the woods, and certainly none moreactive as he chased the youthful pioneers, who were screaming shrilly,from one side of the hall to the other. As "Poor Puss" he struggledfrantically for a corner, failing, however, when a settler of theadvanced age of four, but mighty enterprising, made in swiftly betweenhis knees, gave him a tremendous fall, and gained the coveted goal."Mily, mily bright" was infinitely enlivened by the presence of therecruits from the ball-room, and the romp became tumultuous when Hamishundertook therôle of one of the witches that waited by the way tointercept those—among whom was the corporal—who sought to get there by"candle-light," and who were assured that they could do this if their"legs were long enough." When he pursued the soldier and his juvenileparty from one side of the room to the other, winding and doubling andalmost tumbling into the fire, the[145] delighted screams of the childrenwere as loud and shrill as if they were all being scalped, and causedthe sentries in the block-house towers to look in surprise and doubt inthat direction more than once, and finally brought Captain Stuart fromthe officers' quarters to see for himself what was going on. As he stoodin the door with his imperious face, his bluff manner, his militarydress, and his great muscular height, the children, inspired by thatlove of the incongruous which always characterizes childhood, swarmedabout him with the insistence that he should be blindfolded inBlindman's Buff. And surely he proved the champion blind man of theworld! After one benighted stumbling rush half across the room, amidst astorm of squealing ecstasy, he plunged among his pygmy enemies with suchstartling success as to have caught two or three by the hair of theirheads with one hand, while with the other he was laying about him withsuch discrimination that his craft became apparent. He was not playingfair!—he could see!—he peeped! he peeped! and his laugh being muchresented, he was put to the door by his small enemies, who evidentlyexpected him to feel such repentance as he might experience if he wereto be court-martialed.

O'Flynn, watching him go off across the snowy shadowy parade, noticedthat he did not at once[146] return to the open door of the great hall wherethe swirl of the dance could be seen in a kaleidoscopic glow of color,and whence the glad music came forth in a mellow gush of sound; butstood at some little distance watching the progress of the corporal ofthe guard, who with the relief was on his way to the posts of thesentinels; then Stuart disappeared within one of the block-houses,evidently ascending to the tower; after an interval he came out andagain traversed the parade, going diagonally across the whole enclosurewithout doubt to the block-house at the further bastion; thus from thesetwo coigns of vantage he could survey the whole of the region on thefour sides of the fort.

"I'll go bail, ould Foxy," said Corporal O'Flynn, apostrophizing hissuperior officer under his breath, "that there's nothin' that your sharpeyes doesn't see—if it's just a snake takin' advantage o' the privacyo' the dark hour to slough his skin. But I'd give ye," he hesitated, "meblessin', if you'd tell me what 'tis ye're lookin' for. I want to know,not from a meddlesome sphirit, but jist from sheer curiosity—because mymother was a woman an' not a witch."

For Captain Stuart had encountered a difficulty in these simplebackwoods Christmas festivities which was altogether unexpected. He haddiligently considered the odds against success, in which,[147] however, thechief seemed the lack of appropriate refreshment, for one could notserve venison and buffalo and wild fowl to hunters as luxuries, and thelimited compass and utilitarian character of the goods sent from thebase of supplies over the mountains rendered even the accumulation ofthe requisite materials for the punch-bowl a matter of forethought andskilled strategy. After the wheat-bread had been secured to make theramequins this feature came near to being dropped because of thedifficulty of obtaining the simple ingredients of eggs and cheese tocompound the farce wherewith they should be spread. But this too hadbeen accomplished. The method of providing for the safety andentertainment of the children of the settlers, without whom they couldnot leave home yet whose presence would have hindered if not destroyedthe enjoyment of the elders, seemed a stroke of genius. The soldiers andnon-commissioned officers were satisfactorily assigned a share in theentertainment appropriate to their military rank and in consonance withtheir taste, and were even now carousing gayly in their quarters, wherethere was more Christmas spirit in circulation than spirituous liquor,for the commandant's orders were niggardly indeed as to serving out theportions of tafia, not in the interests of temperance so much as ofdiscipline in view of their perilous situation so far from help, soalone[148] in the midst of hordes of inimical savages; his parsimony in thisregard passed with them as necessity, since they knew that rum was hardto come by, and even this meager dole was infrequent and a luxury.Therefore they drank their thimbleful with warm hearts and cool heads;the riotous roared out wild songs and vied with one another in wrestlingmatches or boxing encounters; the more sedate played cards or dominoesclose in to the light of the flaring fire, or listened with ever freshinterest to the great stories often told by the gray-headed drum-majorwho had served under the Duke of Cumberland in foreign lands, andpromptly smote upon the mouth any man who spoke of his royal highness as"Billy the Butcher";[8] for there were Scotchmen in the garrisonintolerant of the title of "Hero of Culloden," having more or lessremote associations with an experience delicately mentioned in Scotlandas "being out in the Forty-five." With each fresh narration thedrum-major produced new historical details of the duke's famous fieldsand added a few to the sum of the enemies killed and wounded, till itseemed that if the years should spare him, it would one day bedemonstrated that the warlike William Augustus had in any specifiedbattle slain more men by sword and bayonet and good leaden ball thanwere ever mustered into any army on the face of the earth. All thesoldiers were in[149] their spruce parade trim, and every man had a bunch ofholly in his hat.

Even the Indians had been considered. In response to the invitation,they had sent the previous day their symbolic white swan's wings paintedwith streaks of white clay, and these were conspicuously placed in thedecorated hall. The gates of the fort that morning had been flung wideopen to all who would come. Tafia—in judiciously small quantities, itis true—was served to the tribesmen about the parade, but the head-men,Atta-Kulla-Kulla, Willinawaugh, Rayetaeh, Otacite, more than all,Oconostota, the king of the Cherokee nation, were escorted to the greathall of the officers' quarters, the latter on the arm of Captain Stuarthimself; the Indian king, being a trifle lame of one leg,—he was knownamong the soldiers as "Old Hop,"—was evidently pleased by theexceptional attention and made the most of his infirmity, leaningheavily on the officer's arm. Arrayed in their finest fur robes withbeautiful broad collars of white swan's down about their necks, withtheir faces mild and devoid of paint, seated in state before the greatfire, the head-men were regaled with French brandy, duly diluted, andthe best Virginia tobacco, offered in very curious pipes, which, withsome medals and gorgets imported for the purpose, were presented asgifts when the ceremony was concluded,[150] and which the Cherokees acceptedwith a show of much pleasure; indeed, they conducted themselves alwaysunder such circumstances with a very good grace and a certain dignityand propriety of feeling which almost amounted to good breeding.

This was maintained when, invited by the commandant, they witnessed thedress parade, especially elaborate in honor of the occasion, and theylistened attentively when Captain Stuart made a short address to thetroops on the subject of the sacred character of the day and adjuredthem in a frank and soldierly fashion to have a care that theymaintained the moral discipline in which they had all been drilled andgave no advantage to the Enemy because they were here, cut off from themain body of Christianity, so far from the ministrations of a chaplainand the beneficent usages of civilization. "Every soldier learns commandfrom obedience," he said. "And if I should send a detail from the rankson some special duty, the file-leader would know how to command it,although he had never given an order in his life. You are each, with allyour spiritual forces, detached on special duty. You are veteransoldiers of the Cross and under marching orders!"

Oconostota, with a kingly gesture, signified that the interpreter shouldrepeat in his ear this discourse, and now and again nodded his headduring[151] its translation with cogitation and interest, and as if heunderstood and approved it. He watched too, as if with sympathy, theranks go suddenly down upon their knees, as the commandant read thecollect for the day followed by the unanimous delivery of the Lord'sprayer, in their hearty, martial voices.

After the tap of the drum had given a resonant "Amen!" they marched offupon the word and broke ranks; and such little observance as the fortcould offer in commemoration of the event was over.

The Indians all realized this, and were soon loitering out of the greatgate, the commandant receiving their compliments upon the good behaviorof his "young men" and their fine appearance, an elaborate and floweryspeech of farewell. Then Oconostota took his presents, by far thelargest and most elaborate of the collection, and, leaning on Stuart'sarm, left the fort, the officer attending him in this fashion down tothe river-bank, where his pettiaugre awaited him. Stuart evolved,apparently without effort, a felicitous phrase of farewell and esteem,graded carefully to suit the rank of the other head-men who followedwith Captain Demeré and several lieutenants. These words,Atta-Kulla-Kulla, a Cherokee of an intelligent, spirited countenance,either had the good feeling or the art to seem to especially value.[152]

"Such smoke as goes up from this pipe between my face and your face, myfriend," he said through the interpreter, "shall never come between youand me. I shall always see you very clear, for I know your heart. Yourways are strange; you come from a far place; but I know you well, for Iknow your heart."

He laid his hand for a moment on the broad chest of the red coat of thetall, blond officer, then stepped into the canoe, and the little craftshoved off to join a very fleet of canoes, so full was the shiningsurface of the river of Indians who had come from the towns above to thecelebration of the "big Sunday"[D] at the fort.

Captain Stuart felt relieved that all had gone off so well and that theywere rid of the Cherokees for the day.

But now the unforeseen was upon him, the fatally uncovenanted event forwhich none can prepare. An express had come after nightfall from overthe mountains, bringing, besides the mail, rumors of another Indianoutbreak on the South Carolina frontier. A number of settlers had beenmassacred, and the perpetrators of the deed had escaped unpunished.Stuart, charging the man to say nothing of his news to blight theChristmas festivities—since[153]the reports might not be true—sent him tomake merry among the soldiers. Anxiety had taken possession of thatstout heart of Stuart's. When the settlers had begun to gather to theball, the earliest arrivals brought no suggestion of difficulty. Thenext comers, however, had seen straggling bands of Indians across theriver, but they were mentioned casually and with no sense ofpremonition. The guests to enter last had been somewhat surprised tonotice numbers of canoes at the landing-place, and presently CaptainStuart was called aside by the officer of the day, who stated that inmaking the rounds he had learned that the sentinel at the gate hadreported having observed bands of Indians lurking about on the edge ofthe woods, and that quite a number had come, singly and in groups, tothe gate to demand admission. The gathering of the white people hadroused their attention evidently. They had always held thecannon-mounted fort and the presence of the soldiery as a menace, andthey now sought to discern what this unprecedented assemblage mightportend. If their entrance were resisted, they who so often frequentedthe place, it was obviously inimical to them. They had heard—for thetransmission of news among the Indians was incredibly swift—of themassacres on the frontier and feared some effort at reprisal. The scantynumbers of the garrison invited their blood-thirsty[154] rapacity, but theywere awed by the cannon, and although entertaining vague ideasconcerning the management and scope of artillery, realized its terriblepotencies.

Perhaps it was with some idea of forcing an entrance by surprise—thatthey might be within the walls of the fort and out of the range of theguns at this critical juncture of the massing of the forces of thesettlers and the garrison—that a party of thirty or forty Cherokeessuddenly rushed past the sentinel on the counterscarp, who had hardlytime to level his firelock and to call lustily on the guard. The guardat once turning out, the soldiers met the onset of the savages at thegate and bore them back with the bayonet. There was the sudden, quickiterative tramp on the frozen ground of a man running at full speed, andas Stuart dashed through the sally-port he called out "Bar the gates!Bar the gates!" in a wild, imperative voice.

In another moment he was standing outside among the savages, sayingblandly in Cherokee, of which he had mastered sundry phrases—"How now,my friends,—my best friends!" and holding out his hand with his frank,genial manner first to one of the Indians, then to another.

The sentry in the gate-house above, his firelock ready leveled to hisshoulder, gazed down at the officer, as he stood with his back to theheavy iron-spiked oaken gates; there was light enough in the reflectionof the snow, that made a yellow moon, rising higher and higher into theblue night and above the brown, shadowy woods, seem strangely intense ofcolor, and in the melancholy radiation from its weird, gibbous disk toshow the officer's calm, impassive face; his attitude, with his armsfolded, the rejected hand withdrawn; even the gold lace on his red coatand the color of his hair in the thick braid that hung down under hiscocked hat. Even the latent expectation might be discerned in his eyesthat the interval of silence would prove too irksome to the hot impulse,which had nerved the rush on the gates, to be long continued, and thatthe moment would reveal the leader and the purpose of the demonstration.

A Cherokee stepped suddenly forward—a man with a tuft of eagle featherson his scalp-lock quivering with angry agitation, his face smeared withvermilion, clad in the buckskin shirt and leggings that the settlers hadcopied from the Indians, with pistols at his belt as well as a firelockin one hand—the barrel sawed off short to aid its efficacy. The air wasbitterly cold, but the blood blazed hot in his face; in Cherokee hespoke and[156] he paused for no interpreter; if theunaka Captain did notunderstand him, so much the worse for theunaka Captain. Through histeeth the tense swift utterances came in half-suppressed breathlesstones, save when a sudden loud exclamation now and again whizzed out onthe air like the ascent of a bursting rocket. His fury was such thateven without the disguise of the paint on his face, Stuart might hardlyhave recognized him were it not for his peculiarly sinewy, slightelegance of shape. He had advanced one foot and he brandished histomahawk—a furious gesture, but without immediate intention, for nowand again he thrust the weapon into his belt.

"The white captain calls on his friends—and where are they? Not on theoutside of these great guns that bar us from our own. The fort is ours!To-e-u-hah! It is our own.To-e-u-hah![E] Did we not bargain for itin solemn treaty! Did we not make our peace and smoke our pipe and giveour belts of white wampum and sign names to the treaty we made with thewhite English?Wahkane?[F] Did we not join his cause and fight hisbattles and shed our blood in his wars against the French?Wahkane,John Stuart,wahkane? And for what? That the great King George shouldbuild us some forts in our nation to protect our women and[157]children,our old men and our young boys while the Cherokee braves are awayfighting the battles of this great King George against the French—yes,and to make strong the arm of our warriors should the French come herewith the great guns like these, that make naught of the small gun,"—helooked scornfully at the firelock and shook it in his left hand—"andthe bow and arrows—"he spat upon the ground. "And what does the greatEarl of Loudon? He builds this fort for which we have paid with ourblood! blood! blood!—these guns bought with long marches and burnttowns and the despiteful usage of the Virginians"—once more he spatupon the ground. "And then he sends his redcoat soldiers to hold ourfort from us and man our great guns and be a threat and a danger foreverto our peace and make us slaves to the fear of the great cannon!Yo-he-wah! Yo-he-wah![G] And when we send a talk to tell him this, hesends more soldiers! And the white men gather together for grief to thered man, and take the Indians' fort paid for with the Indians' blood andturn the great cannon against him who bought them with a dear price, andbar out his entrance from his own"—the foam flew from his lips. "Youcall on your friend—where?"[158]

He turned a scornful fiery face to look at the scornful fiery facesabout him. "Where?"

"Here!" Captain Stuart's calm, full voice struck the vibrating air atleast an octave lower than the keen, high vociferation of the Cherokee."Here is my friend! That is the moon, Atta-Kulla-Kulla,neus-sea-nan-to-ge"[H]—he lifted his arm and with his debonair, free gesturepointed at it. "Another sun has not risen. And yet this day, and beforethe sun was high, you told me that naught should come between you andme. You told me that even a cloud coming between you and me could notseparate us because you knew my heart—and my heart swelled with prideat your words."

He hesitated for a moment; he detected a sudden change in the Indian'sface. "My heart swelled with pride," he went on, firmly, "for I believedyou! And I believe you still, for"—he laid his hand on the Cherokee'sbreast in imitation of the gesture of Atta-Kulla-Kulla as he repeatedAtta-Kulla-Kulla's words—"for I knowyour heart."

There was a moment of tense silence. Then not waiting for the dramaticeffect to be lost, he continued: "And now, if you say it is not well toshut the gates on this array of braves, I open them! I come here becauseI am sent—aunaka soldier[159]has no will of his own. He is held to astrict law, and has no liberty such as your young fighting men, whosometimes grow rash, however, and make the wisdom of the plans of your'beloved men,' your sage councils, mere folly. The Earl of Loudon sentthe garrison here. Perhaps if you send a 'talk' to the new head-man,General Amherst, he will take the soldiers away. I go or stay accordingto orders—I march at a word. But to-night the children of the settlersmake merry. I told you this morning of our religion. This day is thefestival of the Child. So the children make merry—you can hear them nowat their play." And indeed there was a sharp, wild squealing upon theair, and Stuart hoped that the beat of the dancing feet might besupposed to be of their making and the sound of the music for theirbehoof—for the dance of the Indians often heralds war and is not forsheer joy. "The parents bring them here and share their mirth. For thisis the festival of the Child. Now your warriors are brave and splendidand terrible to look upon. If they go through the gates, the littlechildren would be smitten with fear; the heart of a little child is likea leaf in the wind—so moved by fear. Do not the Cherokee children fleefrom me—who am not a great warrior and have not even paint for myface—when I come to visit you at Nachey Creek. Say the word—and I openthe gates."[160]

There was something in this Cherokee which Stuart saw both then andafterward, and which also attracted the attention of others, thatindicated not only an acute and subtle intelligence and a naturalbenignity, but a wide and varied scope of emotion, truly remarkable in asavage without education, of course, and without even the opportunity ofobserving those of a higher culture and exercising sentiments esteemedof value and grace in a civilized appraisement. Yet he was experiencingas poignant a humiliation to be convicted of an ungenerous attitude ofmind and upbraided with a protest belied as if he had been a Knight ofthe Round Table, bred to noble thoughts as well as to chivalrous deedsof arms, and had never taken the scalp of a child or treacherously slaina sleeping enemy.

Stuart could feel the Cherokee's heart beat fast under his hand.Atta-Kulla-Kulla grasped it suddenly in his own, gripping it hard for amoment, while with his other hand he waved a command for his men toretire, which they did, slowly, with lowering, surprised eyes andclouded brows.

"Go back!" he said to Stuart. "Hold the gate fast. You make your feast.Keep it. I believe your words. And because—" there was a slightconvulsion of his features—"of the wicked ways of the wicked EarlLoudon I have forgot to-night[161] my words I said to-day, I say themagain—and I do not always forget!"

He turned suddenly and went down toward the river, the sad, yellow moonsending his brown, elongated shadow with its quivering tuft of feathersfar along the stretches of white snow. Captain Stuart paused for amoment, leaning heavily against the gate; then as he slipped within itand into the shadow of the wall, he was full glad to hear the dancingfeet, all unconscious of the danger that had been so near, and thechildish treble scream of the unscalped children.

"A little more, and there would have been another massacre of theinnocents," he said, walking slowly across the parade; he had hardly thestrength for a speedier gait. He rescinded the order concerning the hourat which "tattoo" and "lights out" should sound. "For," he thought,noticing the cheerful groups in the soldiers' quarters, "I could getthem under arms much more quickly if awake than by drumming them up outof their beds in barracks."

He carried no sign of the agitation and the significance of theinterview just past when he returned to the prismatic tinted swirl ofthe dancing figures in the flaring light of the great fire, made morebrilliant by the glow of the holly boughs and the flutter of banners andthe flash of steel from the[162] decorated walls about them. He, too, trod agay measure with the fair Belinda Rush, and never looked more at easeand care-free and jovially imperious than in the character of gallanthost. Even in the gray dawn as he stood at the sally-port of the fortand there took leave of the guests, as group by group departed, he wasas debonair and smiling throughout the handshaking as though the revelswere yet to begin.

CHAPTER VI

Breakfast, the rigorous cleaning of the quarters, guard mounting, andinspection, followed in their usual sequence, but the morning drillswere omitted to give the opportunity to recruit from the vigils of theprevious night, protracted, as the soldiers began to suspect, that theymight be in readiness to respond to an onslaught of the savages. ForCaptain Stuart made no effort to restrain the story of the scene at thegate, since the sentries were already cognizant of it; he always saw fitto maintain before the troops an attitude of extreme frankness, as ifthe officers suppressed no intelligence, whatever its character, evenwith the intention of conducing to the public good.

In the great hall in the block-house of the northwestern bastion, whenthe officers were congregated about the fire, in the rude arm-chairs,and their pipes lighted, he divulged without reserve the news which theexpress had brought. In an instant all the garnered sweetness of theretrospect of the little holiday they had made for themselves and theirco-exiles[164] was turned to gall. It even held bitter dregs of remorse.

"And we were dancing all the night through while you knew this horriblething!" exclaimed Captain Demeré, his voice tense with reproach.

"Lord!—it happened three weeks ago, Paul," returned Stuart, "if ithappened at all! Some of the settlers had already come. I did not feelqualified to balk the children and the young people of theirenjoyment—or the elders, either. The world will go on after suchtragedies. It must, you know." He pulled at his pipe, meditatively. "Tohave called a halt could have done those poor fellows no good," henodded toward the south, "and might have done us incalculable harm.There had already been a demonstration of the Indians, before theexpress came in, because they had noticed the gathering of the guests,and I thought the settlers safer congregated in the fort until daybreakthan going home scattered through the night. This is no time or place togive ceremonious deference to questions of feeling."

"Was there a demonstration of the Indians last night, Captain?" askedLieutenant Gilmore.

Stuart detailed both occurrences at the gate. "Without the chief'sguaranty I don't see how we could have let the settlers go thismorning," he concluded.[165]

"You have great presence of mind in these queer emergencies, John," hesaid. "For my life I could not have thought how to get rid of thempeaceably—to offer to open the gates!"

"I can't soothe the Indians," said Ensign Whitson, with a quick flush."My gorge rises at the very sight of them."

"If a dog licks my hand, I must needs pat him on the head," said Stuart,lounging easily among the soft rugs that covered the chair.

"But if a wolf licks your hand, sir, would you pat him on the head?"asked the ensign.

"A wolf will not lick my hand," retorted the superior officer. "Besides,my young friend, bear this in mind,—if this dog is not patted on thehead, he will fly not only at my throat, but at the throat of thegarrison and of the settlement as well."

There was silence for a time, while the flames of the great fire sprangelastically upward in the strong draught with an impetuous roar. Theholly boughs and the banners stirred fitfully on the wall. The men'sheads were surrounded by tobacco smoke. Demeré sat upright, meditative,with one elbow on the table. Stuart was lolling far back in the soft furrugs that covered the great chair, his hat on[166] the floor behind him,where it had fallen off his dense, blond hair, which so much attractedthe curiosity and admiration of the swarthy Indians.

"And then," he said suddenly, drawing some official letter-books andfiles from the table, and fluttering the pages with one hand while heheld the pipe-stem with the other, "were we not admonished to bediplomatic in such matters? We had our orders to cultivate the graces ofour manners! The Earl of Loudon desired that we should," and he began toread aloud, "'You can best retain our confidence by promoting, in everyway in your power, the preservation of peace with the Cherokees.'"

He shoved the papers away on the table, and laughing, put the stem ofhis pipe between his teeth.

"Now," he said, "I am as much disposed toward peace as a man of war maydecently be. I only wish my lord could have won Oconostota to hislordship's pacific way of thinking. A garrison of two hundred soldiersis not likely to prove very overbearing to a neighbor who can musterthree thousand fighting men armed with British muskets. My lord's advicewas timely."

While the individual soldier is but a factor in a great machine, andmoves only as one motor element[167] acts and reacts on another, makingnaught of his own volition or intelligence, it being his "to do anddie," the courage and strength of character which make this abnegationof will and mind possible are the greater from the fact that thereasoning faculties cannot by the same process be annulled. He sees theconvergence of the circumstances drawing to the event; whetherconsciously or not he deliberates upon the validity of the policyunfolded; he often goes to meet disaster, perceiving its undisguisedapproach from afar off. And yet he goes unfalteringly.

"When our government armed these savage fiends against theFrench,—civilized men and 'palefaces' like ourselves," said CaptainDemeré, "and the American colonists fought with them as allies, side byside, despite their hideous barbarities, we fell upon our own sword."

"Honors are easy," returned Captain Stuart, lightly. "Have the Frencharmed no Indian allies? Did they not do it first?"

"We are not wont to look so far afield for our warrant," Demeré retortedtestily. Then resuming: "These barbarous beasts are no fit allies forEnglish arms. They degrade our spirit, and destroy our discipline, anddisgrace our victories. I would rather suffer any honorable defeat thanwin through their savageries."[168]

He was unconsciously the advance guard of that sentiment which causedthe Earl of Chatham, nearly twenty years afterward, to declare in theHouse of Lords that it was a reflection on the honor of the nation thatthe scalping-knife and the tomahawk should be the aids of the Britishfirelock and sword, and wreak their savage deeds under the sanction ofthe same brave banner; but even then Lord Gower was able to retort that,when still Mr. Pitt the "great Commoner," and the ruling spirit of theministry, he, himself, had without scruple employed American savages inwarfare. As yet, however, this objection was but a sensitive protest inthe heart and mind of an obscure officer, the commandant of a merelytemporary post on the furthest western frontier.[9]

The papers had been pushed near Demeré's elbow, and he began to lookover them disaffectedly.

"Hear Governor Lyttleton," he said, and read in a tone that was itself acommentary: "'Use all means you think proper to induce our Indians totake up the hatchet. Promise a reward to every man who shall bring inthe scalp of a Frenchman or a French Indian.'"

"As if one could be sure of a dead man's nationality or allegiance byseeing the hair on his scalp," said Whitson, as ever readily disgusted.[169]

Stuart sought to take an unprejudiced view. "I never looked upon war asa pastime or an elegant accomplishment," he declared, watching thewreaths rise from the deep bowl of his long pipe. "War is war, and whenwe call it civilized we only mean that invention has multiplied andelaborated our methods of taking life. A commander can but use thesurest means to his end against his enemy that the circumstances afford.A soldier is at best but the instrument of the times."

"And what of the torture, the knife, the fagot?" demanded Demeré,excitedly. "What do you think of them?"

"I never, dear Captain Demeré, think of them, in a garrison of twohundred men in a little mud fort on the frontier, with the Cherokeesthree thousand strong just outside, toward whom I have been admonishedto mind my pretty manners. But since you are so keen to reason it out, Iwill remind you that until comparatively recently the torture was one ofour own methods of punishment, or coercion, tending to the disclosure ofsecret conspiracies or any other little matter that the government mightwant to know and could not otherwise find out, and was practiced,thumb-screws, iron-boot, and all, in the worshipful presence of men ofhigh estate—councils, commissions, and what not! Men and women—women,too!—have been[170] burned alive in England under due authority becausetheir style of piety was not acceptable. They were Christians, to besure, but not exactly the highest fashion of Christian. You will say allthis was long ago. Granted! but if such practices still obtain in suchan oligarchy as Oconostota's realm,—the frontier being, paradoxically,a little in the rear of the times,—should we be surprised? No! I don'tthink of such things. I keep my mind on the discipline of the garrison,and control my temper very nicely when in the presence of the Cherokeekings, and bless God and the Earl of Loudon for the cannon at theembrasures and the powder and ball in the magazine."

He leaned forward suddenly to examine with momentary interest the soleof his boot as he sat with his leg crossed, then with a bantering "Eh,Captain Quawl?" he glanced up with a smile ofcamaraderie at CaptainDemeré as if to test the effect of his argument, and finally laughedoutright at his friend's silent gravity.

Such arguments were the ordinary incidents in the great hall of theblock-house of the northwest bastion. The time hung heavily on the handsof the officers of the garrison. For beyond the military routine, alittle hunting and fishing, a little card and domino playing, a littlebout now and again of fencing, there was naught to relieve the[171]monotony, for books were few and the express with mail from over themountains infrequent, and therefore discussions in familiar conclave onabstract subjects, protracted sometimes for hours, filled the breach.Often these questions developed on paper, for a continualcorrespondence, as regular as might be compassed, was maintained withthe officers of Fort Prince George, another frontier post, estimated asthree hundred miles distant from Charlestown, yet still two hundredmiles from Fort Loudon. As a matter of public policy it was deemedexpedient that the commandants of the two posts should keep each otherinformed as to the state of the country about their respectivestrongholds, of the condition of the settlers, the temper of theIndians, the masked movements of French emissaries. In dearth ofofficial intelligence, as the express necessarily went back and forthwith mail and dispatches from Charlestown, the correspondencesympathetically expanded into personal interests, for the conditionssurrounding both posts were in many respects similar. Fort Prince Georgealso was a work designed with special reference to the military needs ofthat region and the character of its possible assailants. The defensesconsisted of a rampart of clay, eight feet high, surmounted by a strongstockade, forming a square with a bastion at each angle; four smallcannon were[172] mounted on each bastion, and a deep ditch surrounded thewhole; there was a natural glacis where the ground fell away on twosides of the quadrangle and on the others a strong abatis had beenconstructed at a short distance from the crest of the counterscarp.Within the fort were two block-houses and barracks for a garrison of onehundred men.

The sequestered, remote situation of each post developed a certainmutual interest and the exchange of much soldierly chaff; the names anddisposition of even the subalterns were elicited in this transmittedgossip of the forts; in default of news, details of trivial happeningswere given, unconsciously fertile in character-drawing; jokes,caricatures, good stories,—and thus at arm's length sprung up afriendship between men who had never seen one another and who werepossibly destined never to meet. Of course all this gayety of heartvanished from the paper when serious tidings or despondent prospectswere at hand, but even in the succinct official statements an undertoneof sympathy was perceptible, and the slightest nerve of thought, ofdanger, of joy, of dissatisfaction touched at Fort Loudon thrilled inkind at Fort Prince George.

The attention of the group about the fire of the officers' mess-hall hadseldom been brought to[173] themes so grave as the news of the recentmassacre, holding so definite and possible a personal concern, and afterthe evening of the Christmas ball life at Fort Loudon began to seem moreserious and the current event to be scanned and questioned as to aprobable bearing on the future.

Even Odalie's optimistic mind, forever alert to hope and fair presage,felt the influence of the atmospheric change of the moral conditions.But the fact was revealed to her in an incident sufficiently startling.

That morning after the festivity, when gayly rowing down the bleak riverto MacLeod's Station, as the bend had begun to be called, she lookedblithely enough over the stream's gray stretches of ruffled steel to thesnowy slopes of the banks, and to the brown woods, and beyond to thedark bronze and dusky blue mountains as they stretched away in varyingdistance. The dull suffusive flare of carmine beginning to show abovethem seemed a spell to drive the day-star out of the sky, to bid theweird mists hie home with the fancies of the night, to set a wind keenlyastir in a new dawn. All this she watched with eyes as clear, as soft,as confiding as if it were a May morning coming over the mountains,scattering the largesse of the spring—new life, new hopes, newstrength, and all the glad inspiration of success that has a rarer,[174]finer flavor than the actual consummation of the triumph.

The stationers landed at the bend, and she was glad of her home as shetook her way within the enclosure of the high stockade. She lookedaround at it, still leading the sleepy Fifine by one hand and only halfhearing Hamish's enthusiastic sketches of the boys and girls in thesettlement, with whom he had made fast friends. The snow was heavy onthe roofs of the two log cabins and the shanty of poles that served as abarn, and lay in fluffy masses between the sharp points of the palisadesand on the bare boughs of sundry great trees that Odalie had insistedshould not be cut away with the rest in the enclosure or "girdled" likethose outside in the field. The smoke still curled up lazily from thechimneys, and after she had uncovered the embers and donned her roughhomespun dress and housewifely apron and cap, and had the preparationsfor breakfast well under way, she went to the door and called aloud inthe crisp, chill air to "Dill," as Gilfillan was christened byFifine,—the name being adopted by all the family,—insisting that heshould not cook his own breakfast but join them.

"There are going to be 'flim-flams,'" she shouted triumphantly. Thenwith a toss of the head—"Short eating!"[175]

It had chanced that one day when the lonely pioneer had dined with hisfellow-stationers he had remarked approvingly of certain dishes ofFrench cookery acquired from her Grand'maman's receipts—"I dunno whatye might call them flim-flams, Mrs. MacLeod, but they make powerfulshort eatin'."

He and she and Fifine had become fast friends, and it was indeed a happychance that had thrown the lonely man into this cordial and welcomingatmosphere of home. Even his terribly ghastly head Odalie had begun toforget, so deeply did she pity him for other things,—for the loss ofwife and children and friends in the terrible Yadkin massacre; for thenear approach of age,—and stalwart as he was, it was surely coming on;for the distortions of his queer religion, which was so uncouth as to berendered hardly the comfort it might have been otherwise.

"I can't see how you can mention it," she said one day, with wincingeyes, when he was telling Hamish, who manifested that blood-thirstyimagination peculiar to boys, how he was conscious throughout the wholeordeal of scalping; how the tomahawk hit him a clip; how the Indian, onewhom he had trusted, put his foot on his breast for a better purchase onthe knife.

"Why, Mrs. MacLeod," Dill replied, "it makes me thankful to think hetook nothing but the scalp.[176] If he had mended his holt a little he couldhave took my whole head, and where would I have been now!"

"By the grace of God you would be a saint in Paradise," said Odalie,presenting the orthodox view.

"Yes," he admitted, "I've always feared there might be more in thatnotion of the Injuns about the scalpless being shut out of heaven thanwe know about—revelation, mebbe."

After that she undertook therôle of missionary in some sort, and inquiet unobtrusive ways suggested bits of orthodox doctrine of muchsolace to his ruminating spirit, and sometimes on dreary, icebound dayshe and she and Fifine sat on the crudely fashioned benches before thefire and sang psalms and hymns together till the station rang with thesolemn choiring.

"Dill" came in now, bringing his own knife for breakfast, and a verycheery face under his coonskin cap and red handkerchief, and when the"short eating" was disposed of all three men took their axes to chop upa tree for fuel, close outside the stockade, for the greatchimney-places had capacious maws, and the weather was fast hardening toa freeze.

Presently Odalie heard the quick strokes of their[177] axes, alternatingwith sharp clangs, the blows ringing out briskly on the icy air. Thehouse was very still. Fifine had fallen asleep on the rug before thefire, having peevishly declined the folly of being disrobed and put tobed in the daytime, to recuperate from the exhaustion attendant upon herfirst ball. As she could not stay awake without whimpering, Odalie sawwith satisfaction her little distorted countenance, round head, andchubby body collapse on the opposite side of the fireplace. Odalieherself sat down to rest for one moment on the befrilled block of woodwhich she complimented by calling atabouret. Once she roused herself,smoothed out the expanse of her white apron over her blue homespundress, then careful to permit the attitude to foster no crumple in herstiff, sheer, white mob-cap on the lustrous folds of dark hair, sheleaned her head against the rude chimney.

How long she sat there she did not know. While sleeping she saw thefaces of Indians, and when she gradually woke she thought she stillslept. For there beside the fire were the Indian faces of her dream! Shewas stifled and dumbly sought to cry out, for this was surely someterror of the nightmare. But no! without was the light of the wan wintryday, showing in a vague blear at the half-open door, and within, thedull glow of the fire, sunken now to a vermilion mass of embers.[178] On theopposite side of the hearth lay Fifine on the rug, sleeping still, withthe sleeping cat in her arms—and between were Indian faces, the Indianfaces of her dream!

Odalie breathed more freely, for they were women's faces—two women,muffled to the ears in red blankets, were calmly seated on the rugbefore the fire as if they had long been there gazing at her with blank,expressionless faces. She still heard the regular strokes of the axes ofthe men of the station, as just outside the stockade they resolutelypursued the chopping of the tree. She could not understand how the twowomen, unobserved by them, had slipped in at the open gate; Odalie wasable to smile faintly at a prevision of Sandy's amazement at his ownnegligence.

One of the Indian women smiled in return, a bright-eyed demonstration,and suddenly Odalie remembered the young Cherokee beauty she had notedat the sally-port, watching the parade, the day after her arrival atFort Loudon. The other, encouraged, began to speak, and to speak inFrench—a curious, dislocated patter. Asking how she had acquired thelanguage, Odalie was informed that this was the squaw of Savanukah, andthat he had journeyed as guide and hunted much with a French trader whohad formerly dwelt at Choté, and hearing them talk the squaw, too, hadlearned.[179]

The elder woman pointed at the girl, who laughed and tucked down herhead like a child. She was obviously solicitous that Odalie shouldobserve the many strings of red beads about her neck; these she now andagain caught in her fingers and drew forward, and then looked down atthem with her head askew like a bird's. Odalie, with ready tact, let hereyes rest attentively on them, and smiled again. Her instinct ofhospitality was so strong that it was no effort to simulate the gracioushostess. It was one of Hamish's stock complaints, often preferred intheir former home when visitors were an intrusion and their longlingering a bore, that if the Enemy of Mankind himself should call,Odalie would be able to muster a smile, and request him to be seated,and offer him a fan of her best turkey feathers, and civilly hope thatthe climate of his residence was not oppressive tohim!

"And how doyou know that I am French?" she asked, with a delightfulexpression of her fascinating eyes.

The soldier had told her,—the handsome young brave who talked to herone day at Choté,—the girl said in fairly good English. Odalie askedher name, and, as it was given, exclaimed that it was a whole sentence.Both the Cherokee women[180] laughed at this in the pleasure ofcamaraderie, and the elder translated the name as the "Wing of theflying Whip-poor-will." The young Indian girl came to be known afterwardat MacLeod's Station as Choo-qualee-qualoo, the Cherokee word whichimitates the note of the bird. Recurring to the subject, she attemptedto describe the soldier, by way of identification, as having hair thecolor of the lace on the Captain's red coat. Odalie was able torecollect a certain smart young soldier, who as orderly had one dayaccompanied Captain Stuart on a visit of ceremony to Oconostota, at hisseat of government at Choté—old town. While the young orderly had ledthe horse of the English Captain up and down before the door of thechief's great council-house, Choo-qualee-qualoo had been set to ask himsome questions, and as she told this the little minx laughed with hersharp white teeth shining, and looked like some sly little animal,malevolent, yet merry, and of much grace. Willinawaugh, she continued,believed that he had been duped by MacLeod into affording him and hisfamily safe conduct on his journey hither, under the pretext that he wasFrench, and therefore an enemy to the English, whom Willinawaugh hated;for the newcomer, MacLeod, and his brother, had been suffered to build ahouse and settle here among the English, while if Frenchmen they wouldhave been hung as[181] spies at the great gate of the fort or sent direct toCharlestown as prisoners. So Willinawaugh had set her to weave her toilsabout the young soldier and discover the truth from him, as he walkedthe officer's fine horse up and down, and the tall English Captain andthe great warrior, Oconostota, smoked their pipes in the councilchamber. Thus it had chanced that the unsuspicious orderly, free withhis tongue, as a young man is apt to be in the presence of a prettygirl, told all that Choo-qualee-qualoo asked to know, as far as he knewit himself, and sooth to say, a trifle further. He gave forth the factthat MacLeod was English—that is Scotch, which he made as one of thesame tribe, and so was the brother. But the wife was French—he himselfhad overheard her talking the frog-eaters' lingo—and, by George, shewas a stunner! The baby was hers, and thus a mixture of English andFrench; as for the cat, he could not undertake to pronounce upon theanimal's nationality, for he had not the pleasure of the acquaintance ofits parents.

Choo-qualee-qualoo laid down this last proposition with a doubtinggravity, for the young man had promulgated it as if with a sense of itsimportance and a weighty soberness, although he laughed at most that hesaid himself and at everything that any one else said.

He saw fit to remark that he did not under[182]stand how that sober-mindedSawney—meaning the Scotchman—had ever contrived to capture such a finewoman, but that was always the way with these dull prigs. Now as forsuch rattling blades as himself and his Captain—who would have beendisposed to lay the flat of his sword smartly across the shoulders ofthe orderly, could he have dreamed of mention in such irreverentfellowship—they had no chance with the women, and for his own part thismade him very sad. And he contrived to look so for about a minute, as heled the Captain's horse up and down before the door of thecouncil-house, while Choo-qualee-qualoo, at one end of his beat, stoodamong a clump of laurel and talked to him as he came and went, andWillinawaugh, in the shadowy recesses of a neighboring hut, watchedthrough the open door how his scheme took effect.

It made him very sad, the soldier said, mournfully, for the girls tolike other fellows better than him—as they generally did!

And Choo-qualee-qualoo broke off to say here that she did not discernwhy such preference should be, for this soldier's hair was the color ofthe Captain's gold lace on his red coat (the orderly was called"Carrots" by his comrades), and he had a face with—and at a loss shedabbled the tips of her fingers delicately about the bridge of her nose[183]and her eyes to intimate the freckles on his fair skin, whichbeauty-spots she evidently admired.

The Scotchman's French wife was a stunner, the orderly was good enoughto declare again, and everybody else thought so too. But he hadoverheard Captain Demeré say to Captain Stuart that her husband had noright to bring her to this western wilderness, and that that terriblejourney of so many hundred miles, keeping up on foot with men, wasenough to have killed her; and Captain Stuart had replied that she wouldmake a fine pace-setter for infantry in heavy marching order. Theorderly protested that for his part, if he were a condemned fine womanlike that, he wouldn't live in a wilderness—he would run away from theScotchman and go back to wherever she came from. Handsomest eyes he eversaw—except two eyes!

Here Choo-qualee-qualoo gave Odalie a broadside glance which left nodoubt as to whose eyes this exception was supposed to refer, and put twoor three strands of the red beads into her mouth, showing her narrowsharp teeth as she laughed with pleasure and pride.

Thus it was that Odalie was apprised of the fact that she was regardedby the Indians as a French prisoner in the hands of the English, andthat the young soldier's use of the idea of capture by her husband,figuratively, as in the toils of matrimony,[184] was literally construed.Her first impulse was to repudiate this suggestion of captivity, ofdetention against her will. Then her strong instinct of wisdom,—for shehad no foresight in the matter,—that made Hamish sometimes charge herwith being as politic as Captain Stuart himself, moved her to reservethis detail for the consideration of the commandant of the fort, asevery matter, however trivial, that bore upon the growing enmity of theCherokees toward the English amongst them, and their disposition tofraternize with the French, was important.

The two captains listened with serious attention when she detailed thisconversation to them, having repaired to the fort for the purpose, andbeing received as a guest of much distinction in the great hall,summarily cleared of the junior officers, and, not so summarily, of theclouds of tobacco smoke. They both instantly commended her course inleaving the impression on the minds of the Indian women as it hadchanced to be made, and in dismissing them in unimpaired good humor withsome little presents—a tiny mirror set locket-wise and an ivory bobbinwound around with red thread. The women had evidently derived specialpleasure from the slyness and presumable secrecy of their interview,skulking out with a craft of concealment that completely eluded thenotice of Sandy and[185] "Dill," and this had given Odalie a sense ofdisapprobation and repulsion.

"Why should you care?" demanded Demeré, always sympathetic with awoman's whim-whams, even when he could not feel with them. "No amount ofexplanation could enable the Indian women to comprehend the situationfrom your standpoint."

"Do you consider yourself so free, then? Do you call it freedom—in theholybonds of matrimony? I had no idea how much you object to hear theclanking of your chains!"

As he noted her long-lashed glance of disdain,—"Doesn't the holyScripture call it a 'yoke,'" he persisted, bursting out laughing afresh.

She would not reply but sat listening to Captain Demeré, who began toreason,—"This impression on the part of the Cherokee women might affordus—I don't know how—some means of learning and frustrating thetreacherous plans of the savages. It gives us a source of informationthrough you that we can trust."

"What would we do with any information, Mrs. MacLeod, supposing we gainaught of value," re[186]turned Demeré with some haughtiness, "except to useit for the defense of the fort, and your own outlying station? Are wehere to wage war or to maintain peace?"

She was silent, a trifle mortified because of her own mortification tobe supposed a mere captive.

"Everybody else knows that you are the commanding officer at MacLeod'sStation," said Stuart in pretended consolation, only half smothering alaugh.

"Besides," Demeré argued, gravely, "you will never be able to convincethem of the facts. Of course you know I intend no disparagement to youwhen I say they will believe that young soldier's rodomontade inpreference to your word—being women of such extreme ignorance."

"Why, the man ought to be gagged!" exclaimed Stuart, in delight at herseriousness.

The color mounted to Odalie's cheek. She had but entered her twenties,and despite her matronly arrogations she felt very young, now and then.Notwithstanding her humble pioneer status, she retained much of thearistocratic traditions inherited from her "Grand'maman"; she wasbeginning to feel it a great liberty that the young orderly should haveexpressed his admiration of her, although of course he was not awarethat it would be repeated. She objected that he should know that sheknew of it.[187]

"By no means," said Demeré, appreciating her scruples. "That sort ofthing is beyond discipline. The men in a garrison will tell everythingthey know or think they know."

Odalie sat for a moment longer. "I think," she said, recovering herequanimity after a fashion, "that since I immediately placed theinformation of this ludicrouscontretemps at your disposal, forwhatever you may make it worth, I should be promised exemption from thekind of raillery—and jokes—which Captain Stuart—frequent mention ofchains, and bond-slave, and matrimonial noose and—such things," shepaused, rising and looking at Stuart, wistfully remonstrant, for shecould but notice how her chagrin ministered to his mischievous delight.

"Howcan you, Mrs. MacLeod!" he cried. "Captain 'Quawl' will have meclapped into irons at the first offence! And this is the vauntedtender-heartedness of women!"

Even Captain Demeré joined in the laugh at her, only becoming grave toinsist that she should not, without notice to him, divulge the fact thatshe was not French, but of Carolinian birth and parentage, and thefurther fact—and his serious face relaxed—that she, herself, was thecommandant at MacLeod's Station, and that Sandy and Hamish,[188] Fifine and"Dill," were the mere minions of her power.

She found discretion the better part of valor, and thought it wise tolaugh a little at herself and her own pride, although the dimples cameand went in very red cheeks, and her eyes were so bright as they restedon the merry face of the big blond officer that they might be said toflash. She diverted with difficulty Hamish's attention from CaptainDemeré's half-finished map on the table at the other end of the room,over which the boy had been poring during the entire interview, and thenthey took their leave.

Little did any of the party realize how important the mistakenimpression of the Cherokee women was to prove!

CHAPTER VII

The winter wore gradually away. While the snows were still on theground, and the eastern mountain domes were glittering white against apale blue sky, all adown the nearer slopes the dense forests showed aclear garnet hue, that betokened the swelling of congregated masses ofmyriads of budding boughs. Even the aspect of more distant rangesbespoke a change, in the dull soft blue which replaced the hardlapis-lazuli tint that the chill, sharp weather had known. For the coldhad now a reviviscent tang—not the bleak, benumbing, icy deadness ofthe winter's thrall. And while the flames still flared on the hearth,and the thumping of the batten and the creak of the treadle resoundedmost of the day from the little shed-room where Odalie worked at herloom, and the musical whir of her spinning-wheel enlivened all thefire-lit evenings as she sat in the chimney corner, the thaws came on,and brought the mountain snows down the Tennessee River with a greatrushing turbulence, and it lifted a wild, imperious, chanting voice intothe primeval stillness. A delicate vernal[190] haze began to pervade theair, and a sweet placidity, as if all nature were in a dream, notdead,—an expectant moment, the crisis of development. Now and againOdalie and Fifine would come to the door, summoned by a loud cracklingsound, as of a terrible potency, and watch wincingly the pervasive flareof the great elastic yellow and vermilion flames springing into the airfrom the bonfires of the piles of cane as the cleared land wastransformed from the cane-brake into fields. And soon the ploughs wererunning. Oh, it was spring in this loveliest of regions, in this climateof garnered delights! As the silvery sycamore trees, leaning over theglittering reaches of the slate-blue river, put forth the first greenleaves, of the daintiest vernal hue, Odalie loved to gaze through themfrom the door of the cabin, perchance to note an eagle wing its splendidflight above the long, rippling white flashes of the current; or acanoe, as swift, as light, cleave the denser medium of the water; or inthe stillness of the noon a deer lead down a fawn to drink. She was wontto hear the mocking-bird pour forth his thrilling ecstasy of song, thewild bee drone, and in the distance the muffled booming thunder of theherds of buffalo. Who so quick to see the moon, this vernalmoon,—surely not some old dead world of lost history, and burnt-outhopes, and destroyed utilities, but fair of face, virginal and[191] fresh asthe spring itself,—come down the river in the sweet dusk, slowly,softly, pace by pace, ethereally refulgent, throwing sparse shadows ofthe newly leaved sycamore boughs far up the slope, across the thresholdthat she loved, with the delicate traceries of this similitude of theroof-tree.

"Oh, this is home! home!" she often exclaimed, clasping her hands, andlooking out in a sort of solemn delight.

"Why don't you say that in French, Odalie?" Hamish would mischievouslyask. For his researches into the mysteries of the French language,although not extensive, had sufficed to acquaint him with the fact thatthe tongue has no equivalent for this word, and to furnish him with thishome-thrust, as it were. Odalie, always rising with spirit to theoccasion, would immediately inquire if he had seen or heard of Savanukahlately, and affect to be reminded to urge him to put himself inpreparation to be able to stand an examination in French by thatlinguistic authority by conjugating the reflective verbS'amuser. "Somuch you might, Hamish,amuse yourself with Savanukah."

"I am not disturbed, now," Hamish would declare, "since we have madeinterest with the family. I'd just get your friend, Mrs. Savanukah, tointercede for me."

For Odalie had to run the gauntlet of a good[192] deal of merriment in thefamily circle because of her close acquaintance with the Indian women.Their visits annoyed her extremely. If she went for an afternoon's talkwith Belinda Rush,—the two had become fast friends,—she deprecatedleaving her scanty store of possessions lest their dainty order bedisturbed by the Indian intruders in her absence. She dared not quitFifine, whom it was sometimes inconvenient to take, even though thechild's father was inside the stockade, lest she be kidnapped, so covertand sly was their slipping in and out, for somehow they were neverdiscovered at the moment of entrance. Nevertheless, she treated herCherokee callers with such sweet patient courtesy that it is not to bewondered that they came again and again. She gave them trifles that shecould spare, and a share of the seeds of vegetables which she hadbrought with her, and this they received with real and unfeignedgratitude, for the women were the gardeners among the Cherokees and thetillers of the soil.

Odalie herself had that strong nerve of sympathy with the springinggrowths of the earth that made every turned furrow of the rich mould adelight to her. It was not work—it partook of the nature of a pastime,wrought for the love of it, when following her husband's plough shedropped the Indian corn and covered it with her hoe. She loved thesoft,[193] tender, sprouting blades, as they put strongly forth; she lovedhardly less the quickly springing weeds even as she cut them mercilesslyaway with her hoe. She loved the hot sun, and the clear, fresh wind thatcame rushing down the rushing river, and the delicious delicate perfumeof its waterside ferns, and the cool, sleeping shadows in the darkmysteries of the woods, and the solemnity of the great mountains on theeastern horizon, and the song of a thrush in mid-air above it all. Andwhen the clouds gathered and came the soft, soft falling of the steadyspring rain, she loved the interval it afforded for the setting ofthings in order within, and once more she and Hamish and Fifine and thecat were congregated on the buffalo rug in front of the fire, which haddwindled to an ember kept from meal to meal, to sort treasures broughtwith them in the small compass of a buffalo horn,—seeds now, the seedsof certain simple flowers, a bulb and a root or two,—the precious rootsof an eglantine and a clematis vine. And now that the chance of killingfrosts was overpast, Odalie and Fifine were grubbing much of the time inthe ground and Hamish often came and grubbed too. The seeds were sownand grew apace; the bulbs and roots throve; the vines began to clamberover the support of a rude bower of saplings built above the door; andsoon when Odalie sat here beside her spinning-wheel, in her white linendress with its[194] broad collar of her own hand-wrought lace, to enjoy thecool air from the mountains, and the color of the red sunset on theriver, she had a canopy of vines above her head, and between her upwardglance and the sky, a blooming rose, faintly pink, and a bird's nestwith four blue eggs.

Captain Demeré, coming in at the gate of the stockade one afternoon,exclaimed in surprise and pleasure at the prettiness and thecompleteness of this rude comfort. There was but one room in the housewith a floor; the seats were only puncheon benches with rough staves forlegs thrust through auger-holes and one or two of her befrilled"tabourets"; the table was of like manufacture; the beds and pillowswere mere sacks filled with dried balsam fringes from the greatfir-trees, and supported on the rudest frames; but the fresh aromaticfragrance the fir dispensed, the snow-white linen the couches displayed,the flutter of the quaint bird-decorated curtains at the windows, thearray of the few bits of treasured old china, the shelf of precious oldbooks, the cluster of purple and white violets arranged in a greatopaline pearly mussel-shell from the river, in default of vase, in thecenter of the wabbly table, the dainty freshness and neatness of thewhole—"This ishome!" he declared. "I accept a new anthropologicaldogma. Man is only the fort-builder—woman is the home-maker!"

"Yes," said Odalie in content and pride, survey[195]ing her treasures, asshe conducted him about the place, for he had not been here since thecompletion of the improvements; "I often say that this ishome!"

Nevertheless, this did not contribute to alter Captain Demeré's opinionthat the frontier was no place for women, though that would imply, withhis later conclusions, no place for home. He went away wearing in hisbuttonhole a sprig of sweetbrier, which he declared again reminded himso of home. He had not thought to find it here, and memory fell upon himunprepared and at a disadvantage. The moon was up when he stepped intohis boat, and the orderly, bending to the oars, shot straight out intothe river. Long, burnished white lines lay upon its gleaming surface,and looking back Demeré could see beyond the shadow and sheen of thesloping bank the cleared space, where the moonbeams fell in unbrokensplendor before the stockade, and through its open gate the log-cabinwith its primitive porch, where, young and beautiful, she sat in herwhite dress in the bright light beside the silent little flax-wheel.Home undoubtedly! As the boat headed up the river he looked moodily atthe ripples, glancing in the moonbeams, and noted with a keen newsensitiveness the fragrance of the[196] eglantine, reminiscent of summersdead and gone, and life as fleeting and frail as the transitory flower.

For the news that came in these days from over the mountains was alwaysheavy news,—rumors of massacres, now of a single individual in someexposed and dangerous situation, and again of settlers surprised andovercome by numbers within the defenses of their own stanch stockade.

All along the frontier the spirit seemed to extend, first toward thenorth and then southward, and it was apparently only a question of timewhen the quiet and peace that encircled Fort Loudon should be summarilybroken. Many of the pioneers, could they now have returned to Virginiaor the Carolinas without danger, would have forever relinquished theirnew homes, and have set forth on their long journey without delay. Butthe Cherokees about them, personally known to them and apparentlywithout individual animosity, seemed a slighter menace than the probableencounter with wild wandering bands, glutted with blood yet thirstingstill for vengeance. In one of Demeré's reports about this time, earlyin the year 1759, he says: "We are living in great harmony here—no 'badtalks' at all."

Again and again he and Captain Stuart, accompanied only by an orderly tomark their sense of confidence, went to Choté to confer in a friendlyway with the king and half-king, and seek to induce[197] them to take someorder with these depredators, and restore the peace of the border.

The great council-house at Choté was a curious circular structure,formed of withes and willows and wand-like timbers, woven together in adome-like shape to the height of twenty feet, with a diameter of thirtyfeet at the base; the whole was covered over with a thick coating withinand without of the deeply and richly tinted red clay of that region, andpierced by no window or chimney or other outlet than the tall and narrowdoorway. The last time the two officers together sought the presence ofthe kings in theOttare district, as the mountainous region wascalled,—the towns designated as theAyrate settlements signified thelower country,—they were received here, and Stuart, from the moment oftheir entrance, knew that their mission was hopeless.

They had recently been ordered to demand the surrender to them ofcertain notable Cherokees, for having been concerned in the distantborder murders, and who lived in the towns of Citico and Tellico hardby, close at hand to both Choté and Fort Loudon. They realized that thismeasure was at once displeasing and impracticable to the kings, whoseauthority could not compass the surrender of their tribesmen to thejustice of the gibbet, after the expiatory methods of the English, andwho[198] foresaw that such compliance would but provoke reprisal on thepaleface and further outbreaks.

Sitting motionless on buffalo rugs, a number of which were spread overthe floor of the room, on which the two officers were also invited to beseated, the Indians advanced none of the equivocal statements anddoubtful promises and fallacious expectations of peace as heretofore,but kept their eyes fixed upon the ground, while the officers once moreexpressed their earnest remonstrances and made their summary demand,implicitly obeying their orders, although this extreme and impoliticmeasure was secretly deprecated by both.

The "talk" was conducted by means of the services of an interpreter, anIndian, who stood behind the great chiefs and recited, now in Cherokeeand now in English, and always with a wooden, expressionless accent, asif he were a talking machine and understood not a word for which hefurnished the equivalent, in deference to the great company notpermitting his mind to take part in the deeper significance of the ideasthey interchanged. He kept his eyes fixed upon the blank wall opposite,and effaced his individuality as far as possible. But after the firstsentences of merely formal greeting, the wooden clapper of theinterpreter's tongue vibrated back and forth with Cherokee only, for theIndian chiefs said nothing to be ren[199]dered into English. Silent andstony they sat, looking neither to the right nor left, unmoved byurgency, stolid to remonstrance, and only when Demeré with a flash offire suggested that Governor Lyttleton of South Carolina, or GeneralAmherst the new "head-man," who was now commander-in-chief of the army,would soon take fierce measures to retaliate these enormities, there wasa momentary twinkle in the crafty eyes of Oconostota, and he spokebriefly. The interpreter woodenly repeated:—

"I can well believe you, for after an English treaty we have fraud andthen force and at last bloodshed."

Stuart, the sombre red shadow of the terra-cotta walls hardly dullingthe glare of his red uniform, sat looking out, quite placid andself-poised, through the open portal at the scattered huts of the town,at the occasional passing of an Indian's figure, at Chilhowee Mountainin the middle distance, densely green with the dark lush growths ofsummer, and beyond at the domes of the Great Smoky range, a soft velvetblue against the hard turquoise blue of the sky. The object, however, onwhich his eyes fixed most intently was the bright spot of color of theorderly's red coat, like a buoy, one might say, against the glimmeringriver, in the foreground, as he rested on his oars in the glow of[200] thesunset, while the little boat swung idly in the shallows.

Not again did either of the chiefs speak. Demeré flushed with anger assentence after sentence rang out in English, now from Stuart's lips, nowfrom his own,—cogent, persuasive, flattering, fruitless; repeated bythe interpreter in Cherokee, and followed by a blank pause. FinallyDemeré rose, and with a curt phrase of formal farewell, to which neitherof the chiefs responded, bowed angrily, and walked out, pausing near theentrance to wait for Stuart, who with blandest ceremony was taking hisleave,—saying how much he hoped there would be no interruption to thekind friendship with which the great men had personally favored them,and which they so highly valued; and how earnestly he desired to expresstheir thanks for the interview, although it grieved him to perceive thatthe chiefs felt they could say so little on the subject that had broughthim hither. He could not have bowed with more respectful formality if hewere quitting the presence of General Amherst himself, the cocked hat inhis right hand sweeping low as he made his obeisance; but he coulddetect in both faces no change of expression, except that the eye ofOconostota twinkled with derision or anger or pleasure—who can say? Heleft them sitting motionless there in the deep red dusk reflected downfrom the terra-cotta[201] walls, and the interpreter, looking as wooden ashis voice sounded, standing bolt upright behind them.

Stuart did not comment on the character of the audience vouchsafed as,shoulder to shoulder, he and Demeré took their way down to the boat,where the young soldier awaited them. He only said, "I have been uneasyabout that orderly all the time for fear our presence here did notprotect him, as he was not on the ever-sacred soil of the 'beloved cityof refuge'—Choté—old town. I wished we had taken the precaution ofordering him ashore. Affairs are near the crisis, Paul."

They seated themselves, and the young soldier pulled out from the shore,Demeré, both angry and cast down, realizing as he had not heretofore theimminence of the peril to the settlement.

Dusk was upon the river; stars began to palpitate elusively in thepallid sky; shadows mustered thick along the bank. Suddenly a sound,sharp, discordant, split the air, and a rifle-ball whizzed past betweenthe two officers and struck the water on the further side of the boat.The unarmed orderly seemed for a moment as if he would plunge into theriver.

"Steady—steady—give way," said Stuart. Then to Demeré, who had hishand on his pistol, and was casting a keen glance along the shorepreparatory to taking aim,—"Why do you return the fire, Paul?[202] To makeour fate certain? We should be riddled in a moment. I have countednearly fifty red rascals in those laurel bushes."

Why the menace was not repeated, whether the skulking braves feared thedispleasure of their own authorities, or the coolness of the littlegroup extorted their admiration, so quick to respond to an exhibition ofstoical courage, no further demonstration was offered, and the boat waspulled down the five miles from Choté to Fort Loudon in better timeperhaps than was ever made with the same weight on that river. Thelanding was reached, to the relief even of the phlegmatic-seemingStuart.

"So ends so much," he said, as he stepped out of the boat. "And I go toChoté—old town—no more."

But he was destined one day to retrace his way, and, sooth to say, witha heavier heart.

The season waxed to ripeness. The opulent beauty of the earlysummer-tide was on this charmed land. Along the heavily-wooded mountainsides the prodigal profusion of the blooming rhododendron glowed with asplendor in these savage solitudes which might discredit the treasuresof all the royal gardens of Europe. Vast lengths of cabling grape-vineshung now and again from the summit of one gigantic tree to the ground,and thence climbed upward a hundred feet to the[203] topmost boughs ofanother, affording ambush for Indians, and these darkling coverts beganto be craftily eyed by the soldiers, whose daily hunt for the provisionsof the post carried them through many dense jungles. Everywhere theexquisite mountain azalea was abloom, its delicate, subtle fragrancepervading the air as the appreciation of some noble virtue penetratesand possesses the soul, so intimate, so indissoluble, so potent ofcognition. It seemed the essential element of the atmosphere onebreathed. And this atmosphere—how light—how pure! sheer existence wasa cherished privilege. And always on this fine ethereal medium came theecho of woe; blended with the incense of the blooming wild grape seemedthe smell of blood; the rare variety of flame-tinted azaleas flaring onsome high, secluded slope showed a color reminiscent only of the burningroof-trees and stockades of destroyed homes. Peace upon the augustmountains to the east, veiling their peaks and domes in stillness andwith diaphanous cloud; peace upon the flashing rivers, infinitely clearand deep in their cliff-bound channels; and peace upon all theheavily-leaved shadowy forests to the massive westward range, level ofsummit, stern and military of aspect, like some gigantic rampart! Butthe mind was continually preëmpted by the knowledge that in the southwere murder and despair, in[204] the east were massacre and pillage, thatrapine was loosed upon the land, and that this external fixity of calmwas as unstable as the crystalline sphere of a bubble to collapse at atouch. Every ear was strained to a whisper; the express from over themountain was met afar off by stragglers from the settlement, and came,delivering by word of mouth such news as he personally possessed, beforehis package was rendered up to the officers at the fort. Every heartseemed subject to the tension of suspense except such organ as mightserve Captain Stuart for the cardiacal functions. He appeared whollyengrossed in perfecting the details of battalion drill, and theattention of the garrison was concentrated on these military maneuvers;even the men of the settlement, especially the rattling single men, weredrawn into these ranks, the garrison not being strong enough to furnishthe complement desired. In their buckskin hunting-shirts and leggings,with their muscular, keen activity, their ready practice, and theirsuppleness in handling their rifles, the pioneers made what he waspleased to call "a very pretty body of fencibles." His praise and theirevident advance in proficiency gratified them, although the tacticalarts of war in the heavy growths of this wild and rocky country were ata discount, since the defeat of that martinet and military precisian,General Braddock.[205] Thus the afternoon drill at the fort became ofincreasing public interest, and afforded the social opportunity of arendezvous for the whole settlement; and despite the growingdisaffection of the Cherokees, now and again groups of Indian spectatorsappeared at the gate.

Stuart's tact never deserted him; one day when ordering a knot ofpioneers near the sally-port to "fall in"—for he himself drilled thefencibles—he motioned too, with his imperious gesture, to half a dozenbraves who were standing hard by, as if he made no difference betweenthem and the other civilian neighbors. One moment of astounded doubt,then they "fell in" as front-rank men, evidently infinitely flatteredand marvelously quick in adapting the manual exercise they had oftenwitnessed. Now and again there was an expression of keen interest ontheir stolid faces, and more than once when woe befell the effort toploy the battalion into double column to form square and the movementbecame a contortion, they laughed out gutturally—that rare Indian mirthnot altogether pleasant to hear. And as they went home in the red sunsetto Citico, and Great Tellico, and Tennessee Town and Choté, from alongthe river banks came their harsh cries—"Shoulder firelock!" or"Fa'lock," as they rehearsed it. "Feex Bay'net! Pleasant A'hms!"[206]

It became evident that they rehearsed their learning, suiting the actionto the word, once too often,—for they returned no more. Whatever mighthave been the advantage of their acquiring the secret of the militarymaneuvers from so competent and patient an instructor as thecondescending Captain Stuart, the powers that were at Choté had no mindto expose their stalwart young braves to the winning wiles of thatmagnetic commander, and permitting them to acquire among the troops,perchance, a personal regard for the officer and anesprit de corps inaddition to a more available military spirit. If he had had a scheme andthe scheme had failed there was no intimation to that effect on theimperturbable exterior he maintained.

It had always been known that Captain Stuart was somewhat fond of thepleasures of the table, and he suddenly developed a certain domesticityin this regard. He desired to experiment on the preserving of some"neat's tongues,"—as he politely called those of the buffalo,—and forthe sake of this delicacy utilized a floorless hut, otherwiseunoccupied, at the further end of the whole enclosure, as a smokehouse.Often smoke was seen issuing thence, but with this understanding itcreated no surprise. Sometimes the quartermaster-sergeant and two orthree other non-commissioned officers were seen pottering about it. Nowand again[207] Captain Demeré stood at the door and looked in. One day itchanced that Hamish, who had secured two tongues, desiring to offer themas a small tribute, came up close to him, in his deft, noiselessdeerskin buskins, before Captain Demeré was aware. As he turned and sawthe boy, he instantly let the door in his hand fly back—not, however,before the quick young fellow had had a dissolving view of the interior.A fire smoked in the center of the chimneyless place, half smotheredwith stones that constituted at once a hearth and protection from theblaze, but one flickering shred of flame revealed not only the tongueswhich Captain Stuart coveted, but rows of haunches and saddles ofvenison and bear hams, and great sections of buffalo meat, as well aspork and beef.

The boy understood in an instant, for the hunters from the fort providedday by day for the wants of the garrison from the infinite reserves ofgame in the vast wilderness without; these were preparations against astate of siege, kept secret that the garrison might not be dispirited byso gloomy a prospect, possibly groundless, and the settlement with itswomen and children affrighted. Hamish, with a caution beyond his years,affected to see naught, made his little offering, and took his way andhis speculations homeward. There he was admonished to say nothing of thedis[208]covery; it was very proper, Sandy thought, for the garrison to beprepared even against remote contingencies.

Hamish dutifully acquiesced, although he could but feel very wise toknow the secret workings of Captain Stuart's subtle mind and divine hishidden plans, when that officer seemed to grow gravely interested in thedevelopment and resources of the country, in which he had no share savethe minimum of space that the ramparts enclosed. He speculated adroitlyabout mineral wealth in gossiping with the groups of settlers at thegates after the drill. He told some strange stories thatAtta-Kulla-Kulla had recounted of the vestiges of previous vanishedinhabitants of this country—of certain evidences of ancient miningventures where still lay curious outlandish tools; he felt certain ofthe existence of copper and lead, and he believed most faithfully too inthe proximity of gold; for his own part, he declared, he thought thegeological formation indicated its presence. These themes, transferredto the great hall, served to fill it with eager discussions and cloudsof tobacco smoke, and to detain the settlers as long as the regulationswould admit of the presence of visitors. As to iron and other minerals,the springs indicated iron ore beyond a doubt, and he inquired earnestlyhad any one ever tried to obtain salt by the usual primitive process of[209]boiling and evaporation at the big salt-lick down the river? Thus nobodywas surprised when Captain Stuart and the quartermaster and a detail ofsoldiers and a lot of big cauldrons were reported to be actively engagedin the effort to manufacture salt down at the lick. No necessaryconnection was apprehended between the circumstances when fourpackhorses came over the mountain laden with salt, for even after thatevent Captain Stuart continued the boiling and stirring that went ondown at the lick.

Hamish wondered how long he would care to keep up the blind, for theneed of salt for the preservation of more meat had by this lastimportation been satisfied. Perhaps Stuart himself felt it a relief whenone day it chanced that some buffalo bulls met at the salt-lick,—as ifby appointment,—and the battle that ensued among them was loud and longand stormy. So numerous were the contestants, and so fiercely did theconflict wage, that the officer and his force were compelled to climb toa scaffold built in one of the gigantic trees, used by the settlers whowere wont to wait here for the big game and fire down upon them withoutthe danger of being trampled to death.

This battle had other observers: a great panther in the same treecrouched on a limb not far above the soldiers, and sly and cowardly asthe creature is, gazed at them with a snarling fierce distention of[210]jaws, plainly unaware of any weapons that could obviate the distance,and counting on a lingering remnant of the party as evidently as on theslain bison to be left on the ground when the battle should be over. Nowand again came a glimpse of the stealthy approach of wolves, which thetumult of the conflict had lured to the great carcass of the defeated.Although the salt-makers waited in much impatience through several hoursfor the dispersal of the combatants, and were constrained to fire theirpistols almost in the faces of the wolves and panthers, Captain Stuart'schief emotions seemed expressed in admiring the prowess of a champion inthe fight, whom he identified as the "bigyanasa [I] that was the pivotman of the wheeling flank," and, on his return, in guying thequartermaster on the loss of the great cauldrons, for their trampledremains were unrecognizable; but indeed, this worthy's countenance waslugubrious enough to grace the appellation of chief mourner, when he wasapprised of the sad ending of the salt-making episode, for he loved abig kettle, as only a quartermaster or a cook can, in a country in whichutensils are small and few and not to be replaced.

That Stuart felt more than he seemed to feel was suspected by Demeré,who was cognizant of how the tension gave way with a snap one day in the[211]autumn of that year of wearing suspense. Demeré looked up with achanged face from the dispatches just received—the first express thathad come across the mountains for a month, having dodged and eludedbands of wandering Indian marauders all the way.

For upon the massacre of all the inmates of a strong station, carried bystorm, in addition to other isolated murders up and down the frontier,the royal governor of South Carolina had initiated a series ofaggressive measures; asked aid of North Carolina, urged Virginia to sendreënforcements and provisions to Fort Loudon (it being a place whichfrom its remote situation was very difficult at all times to victual,but in the event of a Cherokee war entirely cut off from means ofsupply), and by great exertions succeeded in mustering a force of eighthundred militia and three hundred regulars to advance into the Indiancountry from the south. The vigor and proportions of this demonstrationalarmed the Cherokees, grown accustomed to mere remonstrance andbootless threats. They had realized, with their predominant militarycraft, the most strongly developed of their mental traits, that theoccupation of all the available forces of the government in[212] Canada andon the northwestern frontiers crippled the capacity to make thesethreats good. Thus they had reveled in a luxury of fancied impunity anda turbulent sense of power. Now they were smitten with consternation toperceive the cloud upon the horizon. Suddenly the privileges of tradewhich they had forfeited,—for they had become dependent on the suppliesof civilization, such as ammunition, guns, tools, blankets, etc., andcertain stores in transit to them had been, by Governor Lyttleton'sinstructions, intercepted by Captain Coytmore, the commandant at FortPrince George;—the opportunities of a strong alliance that they haddiscarded; the advantageous stipulations of the treaties they hadannulled; all seemed precious when annihilated by their own act.

The Upper towns and the Lower towns—theOttare and theAyrate—metin solemn conclave at Choté to consider the situation.

Fort Loudon, hard by, maintained quiet and keen watch and strictdiscipline. The drums beat, the bugles sounded for the measured routine.The flag waved in the sunshine, slipping up to meet the dawn, flutteringdown as the last segment of the vermilion disk slipped behind the dark,level, rampart-like summit of the distant Cumberland range, and thesunset-gun boomed till the echoes blared faintly even about thecouncil-chamber at Choté,[213] where the warriors were gathered in state.Whether the distant thunderous tone of that potent force which theIndians admired, and feared, and sought to comprehend beyond all otherarms of the service, the artillery, suggested anew the untried menace ofLyttleton's invasion of their country with a massed and adequatestrength; whether they had become desirous now to regain those values oftrade and alliance that they had thrown away in haste; whether theirrepeated reprisals had satiated their greed of vengeance for theircomrades, slain on the return march from aiding the defense of theVirginia frontier; whether they were inspired only by their veileddeceit and savage craft, in which they excelled and delighted, and whichwe now call diplomacy, exercised between the enlightened statesmen ofconferring and Christian nations,—whatever motive urged their decision,no gun barrel was sawed off, an unfailing preparation for battle, nocorn pounded, no knife whetted, no face painted, no bow strung, nomysterious scalp-dance celebrated—the Cherokees were not upon thewar-path!

A deputation of their "beloved men" went to forestall the martialadvance of the Carolinians—Oconostota, the "great warrior," with hismany wrinkles, and his crafty eye, and his port of meaning that heraldedevents; and Atta-Kulla-Kulla, of whom all had heard, whose courage wasfirst of the[214] brain and then of the hand, whose savage instincts weredisciplined by a sort of right judgment, an intelligence all independentof education, or even of that superficial culture which comes of theobservation of those of a higher and trained intellect; and alsoWillinawaugh, fierce, intractable, willing to treat for peace, to besure, but with a mental reservation as to how far it might serve hispurposes. Savanukah was of the delegation, doubtful, denying, with adozen devices of duplicity; he could not at times understand the Englishhe spoke fairly well, and the French, in which he could chaffer smartlyand drive a bargain, nor even the Cherokee, for which he kept a deaf earto hinder a settlement he deprecated with the hated English—invaluableat a council was Savanukah! Of the number, too, was Tennessee Warrior,who fought, and did nothing but fight, and was ready and willing tofight again, and yet again, and to-morrow! He was always silent duringthe conferences, studying with successive scowls the faces of the whitemen. He knew nothing about numbers, and did not yearn to handle thematch, and make the big gun howl; he had but to paint his face, and whethis scalp-knife, and load his firelock, and blaze away with as deadly anaim as a pioneer's. What need had the Tennessee Warrior for diplomacy?If there was to be any fighting the Tennessee Warrior would[215] rejoice ingoing along to partake. If there was to be only diplomacy, and diplomacywere long continued with peace unbroken, then the white men and the redmen might be sure of one thing—of hearing the Tennessee Warrior snore!He was an excellent selection to go to a council. Then there was BloodyFellow, Eskaqua, who had scant need of vermilion, so sure he was topaint himself red in another way. And Tus-ka-sah, the Terrapin ofChiletooch, and old Abram, Ooskuah, of Chilhowee, and Otassite, theMan-Killer of Hiwassee, and old Tassel, Rayetaeh of Toquoe,—aboutthirty-five in all,—went in a body to Charlestown to negotiate forpeace, and some of them signed. These chiefs who signed were Oconostota,Atta-Kulla-Kulla, Otassite, Kitagusta, Oconnocca, and Killcannokea.

The day on which they set forth Captain Stuart and Captain Demeré,themselves in council in the great hall at Fort Loudon, heard the newsof the departure of the delegation on this errand, looked at each otherin amazement, and fell into bursts of laughter.

Had their sense of triumph been such as to find joy in reprisal theymight have relished the fact that the anxieties, the secret fear, theturmoil of doubt, which Oconostota had occasioned to them, were returnedto him in plenitude on his arrival in Charlestown. Governor Lyttletonhad not yet set out, but[216] the military forces summoned forth werealready entered upon their long and toilsome march from various distantdistricts to the appointed rendezvous at Congaree, and thither thecommander of the expedition felt that he must needs forthwith repair tomeet them. "I did not invite you to come here," he said to Oconostota,and despite the remonstrance of the delegation, and doubtless thinkinghe could treat with the savages to more effect at the head of an armedforce invading their country, he postponed hearing their "talk" till heshould have joined his little army, but offered them safe-conduct inaccompanying his march. "Not a hair of your head shall be touched," hedeclared.

Returning thus, however, almost in the humiliated guise of prisoners, infact under a strong guard, accompanying a military force that wasinvading Cherokee soil, comported little indeed with Oconostota's prideand his sense of the yet unbroken power of his nation. The coercions ofthis virtual captivity extended to the stipulations of the treatypresently formulated. While ratifying previous pledges on the part ofthe Indians to renounce the French interest, and providing for therenewal to them of the privileges of trade, this treaty required of themthe surrender of the murderers concerned in the massacres along thefrontier; pending the delivery of these miscreants to the commandant atFort Prince[217] George, and as a guarantee of the full and faithfulperformance of this compact, the terms dictated the detention at thefort, as hostages, of twenty-two of the Cherokee delegation nowpresent.[10]

Oconostota himself was numbered among the hostages to be detained atFort Prince George until the surrender of the Cherokee murderers, butthe representations of Atta-Kulla-Kulla, who was at liberty, compassedthe king's release, urging his influence with his nation and the valueof his counsels in the British interest for the restoration of peace.The little band of Cherokees, helpless among overwhelming numbers, washardly in a position to openly withstand these severe measures proposed,and consequently the treaty thus signed on the 26th day of December,1759, might have been expected to prove of but slight cohesiveproperties. The hostages remained of necessity at Fort Prince George;the few Indians of the unfortunate embassy who retained their freedombegan to scatter, sullen, fierce, disconsolate, to their towns; thearmy, already discontented, mutinous, and eager to be gone because ofthe devastations of the smallpox in a neighboring Indian village, andthe appearance of that disease among a few of the volunteers, set outupon its homeward march, without striking a blow, from an expeditionthat cost the province the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds sterling.[218]

Oconostota and Willinawaugh, sitting together on the ground, in theflickering sunlight and the sparse wintry shadows of the leafless woods,looking like two large rabbits of some strange and very savage variety,watched the rear-guard file over the hill in the narrow blazed way thatseemed a very tolerable road in that day. When the last man hadvanished, they listened for a long time to the throb of the drum—thenthe sound was lost in the distance; a mere pulsing in the air continued,discriminated by the keen discernment of the Indians. At last, when noteven a faint ripple of sound-waves could be felt in the stillatmosphere, Oconostota keeled over suddenly and laid his ear to theground. No vague reverberation, no electrical thrill, no stir of atom ofearth striking against atom; nothing! The army was gone! The two savageold rabbits squatted again upright and seemed to ruminate on thesituation. Then, as if with a single impulse, they looked at each otherand broke into sudden harsh gutturals of triumphant laughter.

CHAPTER VIII

Peace was welcome—so welcome. Hence the turning of the soil by thepioneers commenced betimes in the chill spring with heartfeltthankfulness to be anew between the stilts of a plow. The sap wasrising; the winter had gone like a quiet sleep ensuing on the heavytumults of troubled dreams.

One day a wren came and perched in a loop-hole of the block-house of thenorthwestern bastion and sang very loud and sweet and clear, till allthe men sitting about the fire turned to look at it, amazed at itstemerity, and enjoying in a lazy, sensuous way the jubilance andthrilling crystalline purity of its tone. Two of the youngsters,Lieutenant Gilmore and Ensign Whitson, ready to wager anything onanything, disputed as to the size of the creature,—if it had on nofeathers,—one maintaining that it was two inches long, the other, aninch and a half. The bird brought a straw and arranged it carefully inplace in the loop-hole, and then singing, flew away, and came back witha feather. His intention was evident.[220]

"My young friend," said Stuart, carelessly eyeing him, "you are a finefigure of a settler, but that loop-hole is ours!"

The door opened suddenly, and the orderly, saluting, announced theexpress from over the mountains. At once there ensued a great stir ofthe tobacco smoke, and a laying aside of pipes in any coign of vantageto better handle the mail from home, as soon as the official dispatchesshould be read. And then, "Here's something from Fort Prince George,"said Demeré, from where he sat at the rude table with the papersscattered before him. "A goodly packet," he continued, as he broke theseal, in the expectant, pleased silence of the others. "Ensign Milne iswriting—both the official communication and a long personal letter,"noting the signature.

Murdered by the Indians he had been, in front of the fort, in thepresence of the officers of his own command! As the news was unfolded,startled, amazed glances were exchanged; no word was spoken; the silencewas only broken by the low, tense voice as Demeré read, and now andagain the[221] wren's clear, sweet, reedy note, full of joyance, of life, asthe bird fluttered in and out and builded his nest in the loop-hole.

Without warning the blow had fallen. One morning it happened, the 16thof February, when naught of moment seemed to impend. On the bank of theKeowee River opposite to Fort Prince George, two Indian women appeared,and as they loitered, seeming to have something in hand, the sentinelcalled the attention of an officer of the fort,—Doharty it was,—who atonce went out to speak to them, thinking they might have some news. Hecalled out to them, having a trifle of Cherokee at command, but beforethey could answer they were joined by Oconostota, the king of the Indiantribe, arrayed in his buckskin shirt and leggings, and mounted upon avery excellent chestnut horse. He told Doharty that he desired to speakto the commandant of the fort. Doharty, thinking it a matter ofimportance, and possibly having reference to the surrender of some ofthe murderers of the settlers in exchange for the hostages, went ingreat haste and summoned Captain Coytmore, who instantly came,accompanied by Lieutenant Bell with Foster, the interpreter, following.The writer detailed that he himself was within, engaged in inspectionduty as officer of the day, or his interest and curiosity would havecarried him in[222] their company. In expectation of developments they allwent down to the water's edge, and Coytmore asked the chief if he wouldnot ford the stream and come over. But Oconostota stated that he was inhaste touching matters of great moment which he wished to impart to theroyal governor of South Carolina. It was imperative that he should treatof the subject in person, and thus he would go to Charlestown to seeGovernor Lyttleton if Captain Coytmore would send a white man toaccompany him as a safeguard in the white settlements. Captain Coytmoreseemed to consider for a moment whom he could send; and then, evidentlydesirous of furthering any pacific negotiation, said that he coulddetail a man for that duty. Oconostota replied that that courtesy wasall he would ask of the commandant—a white man as a safeguard. Hehimself would furnish a horse for the man to ride. He had come preparedfor the purpose, and he lifted a bridle, which he had brought over onearm, to show it. He then remarked that he would get the horse, which hehad left a little distance back, while Captain Coytmore gave the man hisinstructions. So saying, he lifted up the bridle in his hand, whirlingit three times around his head, and wheeling his horse, galloped off,while from an ambush amongst the trees and underbrush a fire of twentyor thirty muskets was poured upon the little[223] group at the river bank.Captain Coytmore was shot through the left breast and died that day.Bell and Foster were each wounded in the leg. Doharty and the sentinelhad much ado to get them into the fort with Coytmore's help, for thecommandant was able to run to shelter with the rest through thesally-port, and until Parker, who the writer said had had considerableexperience as a chirurgeon, examined Coytmore's wound, neither he northe others knew that it was mortal. Milne, being now the officer incommand, thought it fit to order the hostages into irons, fearing someoutbreak within the fort as well as an attack from without. One andtwenty stalwart savages were dangerous inmates at large, with thefreedom of the parade as they had had much of the time. They resisted;one of the soldiers was killed in the effort to shackle them, for armsappeared among them, evidently brought and secreted by their friends whohad been permitted to visit them, much leniency having been accordedthem, being hostages and not themselves criminals. Another soldier waswounded in the head with a tomahawk. Upon the death of their comrade,and the announcement that the commandant was dying, the garrison wasseized with an uncontrollable frenzy, fell upon the hostages, and withinfive minutes had slaughtered the last man of them.

"I know you will feel for me," Milne wrote.[224] "I dared scarce reprimandthe men, for they were full of fury. I see here and there signs ofsullenness. They watch me—their way of showing regret. I can scarcelyblame—yet the Cherokees were hostages and I am sorry; I was much alone,with the temper of the soldiers to consider. Coytmore dead, and Bellgone into a delirium with the fever—his wound bled very little—theball is near the bone. Doharty had been ill of a pleurisy and seems torelapse. On the night after, I sat for a time in the block-house wherewe had laid the commandant, feeling very low in my mind. There is one ofthe men a bit of a joiner, and a great billet of the red cedar, used inbuilding the fort, being left over, he made a decent coffin, the woodworking easily and with a fine grain and gloss. I could hear as I satthere the tapping of his mallet and chisel as he worked on the coffin,while Coytmore lay with the flag over him, his sword and hat by hisside—there was no fire, because of him, and only a candle at his head,or I think the savages would have seen the light. But the work beingfinished and everything still, they supposed all asleep. I cannot thinkwhy they did not smell the blood—for the ground of the room where thehostages lay reeked of it. Twenty-one!—I could not think how I couldbury them inside the fort and I dared not send out a detail, nor do Ithink the men would[225] obey—the barracks seemed steeped in the smell,though none there. Of a sudden, the night being fine and chill as I satthere with Coytmore, a sentry outside the door, I heard a great voicelike a wind rushing. I thought I had been sleeping. And again I heardit—words in Cherokee.O-se-skinnea co-tan-co-nee! I slipped outsidethe block-house where was the sentinel, much startled, and bade himfetch the interpreter, alive or dead. He came limping—not greatly hurt.The words he said meant, "Good tidings for the unhappy." Then as westood there other words sounded signifying 'Fight manfully and you willbe assisted!' They were spoken to the hostages and close to the ramparthard by their hut, unknowing their—I cannot think how they should notsmell the blood! Then from a greater distance came the "Whoo-whoop!" anda thick hail of musketry. The men got under arms very quick andtractable, and I think wished to atone. The fire of the savages had noeffect, the balls being buried in the earth of the escarp, or fallingspent within the fort. But we were kept at it all night, the mentireless and dutiful. The savages now and then paused at first,expecting some token from the hostages. Then they fought with greatpersistence—realizing. With what loss we do not know, since theycarried off their dead. Sure, how strange 'tis to be fighting all night,firing through[226] the loop-holes of the block-house around Coytmore, withnever a word from him, an order, or a sign. I miss him more since he isout of sight. I am afraid to speak of burying the savages inside thefort, along with the commandant and Private Mahone—and yet Imust getrid of them. Twenty-one!—in so narrow an enclosure——

"Much gratified by a deputation of Indians, realizing at last, andasking for bodies. Would not open gates for fear of surprise. Had eachhoisted up and slipped out of embrasure; could hardly force men to touchthem. I said, 'You were too quick once!'—drew my pistol. The Indiansseemed mighty glad to get them, yet women went off howling. Soldiersseemed relieved to find in the hut tomahawks buried in ground, and aphial of liquid, which they think was poison for well. I poured this outon the earth, and broke bottle. Men's spirits improve—quite cheerful.Hope you have better luck at Ft. Loudon. Pray some one of you write tome! Bell and the others too ill to send remembrances—doubtless would."

The circle listened in appalled silence, and when the reading wasconcluded, except here and there a murmur of commiseration, or a deepimprecation, hardly a stir was in the room until the joyous notes of thebuilding wren arose, so clear that they had a suggestion of glitter, ifthe quality of light can[227] ever be an attribute of sound. Then CaptainStuart asked for the letter and silently read it from end to end, whilea fragmentary conversation concerning the personality of the slainhostages, all men of great note in their respective towns, began to beprosecuted by the others.

That evil days were upon the land hardly admitted of a doubt, and theyfell to discussing the improbability of measures of relief and reprisalbeing undertaken so early after the bootless return of GovernorLyttleton's troops without striking a blow. The Cherokees, too, weresurely cognizant of the fact that it was scarcely possible in view ofthe great expense of mustering and sending forth this force that such anexpedition would again be soon set on foot. Acting upon this theory, andalways instigated by the subtle French, their demonstration probablyheralded a systematic and vigorous outbreak all along the frontier, toexterminate the settlers and free their land forever from theencroachments of the hated English. This view was confirmed by an attackwhich presently ensued on Fort Ninety-six, and being without effect, therepulsed Indian forces drew off and fell upon the more defenselesssettlements, ravaging the frontier throughout the borders of the twoCarolinas and Virginia and practicing all the horrible atrocities ofsavage warfare. The settlers about Fort Loudon[228] quaked in their littlelog-cabins and looked upon their limited clearings in the wilderness andtheir meager beginnings of a home, and wondered if it were worth comingso far and risking so much to attain so little. As yet, save for glancesof a flashing ire and sullen silence, the Indians had made nodemonstration, but it was a period of poignant doubt, like waiting forthe falling of a sword suspended by a hair.

One day Odalie was startled by seeing Fifine, seated on the threshold,persistently wreathing her countenance into a grimace, which, despitethe infantile softness of her face and the harsh savagery of the one sheimitated, was so singularly recognizable that the mother took her handsfrom the bread-trough where she was mixing the pounded corn meal andwent near to hear what the child was saying:—

"Fonny! Fonny!" with the terrible look of malevolent ridicule with whichWillinawaugh had rebuked Hamish's poor pleasantries on thatheart-breaking journey hither.

Odalie's pulses seemed to cease to beat. The child could hardly haveremembered an incident of so long ago without some recent reminder.

But Fifine had no mind to answer, apprehending the agitation in thesharp tones, and translating it[229] as displeasure. She drew hercountenance straight in short order, and put a meditative forefinger inher mouth as she looked up doubtfully at her mother.

"Fonny! Fonny!" and she too imitated the Indian. Then exclaimed—"Oh,isn't it droll, Fifine?"

And Fifine, deceived, banged her heels hilariously against thedoor-step, laughing widely and damply, and crying, "Fonny! Fonny!" ininfantile derision.

"You didn't see 'Fonny' yesterday. No, Fifine! No!" Odalie had the airof detracting from some merit on Fifine's part, and as she played herlittlerôle she trembled so with a realization of terror that shecould scarcely stand.

Yes, Fifine protested with pouts and anger. Shehad seen him; she hadseen him, only yesterday.

"Where, Fifine, where?" cried Odalie bewildered, for the child sat uponthe threshold all the day long, while the mother spun and wove andcooked within the sound of the babble of her voice, the gates of thestockade being closed in these troublous times, and always one or moreof the men at work hard by in the fields without.

The mystery was too fraught with menace to be disregarded, but Odaliehesitated, doubting the policy of this direct question. Fifine'sinterest, however, was suddenly renewed and her importance expanded.[230]

"Him wasn't all in," she explained. "Him top-feathers—him head—an' himugly mouf!" She looked expectantly and half doubtfully at her mother,remembering her seeming anger.

"Oh, how droll! One might perish with laughter!" screamed Odalie, with apiercing affectation of merriment, and once more Fifine banged her heelshilariously against the door-step, as she sat on the threshold, andcried in derision, "Fonny! Fonny!"

Fifine became angry at this suggestion, for had not "Dill" built thestockade, and would he build a stockade so Indians might get through andcut off her curls—she bounced them about her head—that Dill said were"'andsomer than any queen's."

But Odalieknew she had seen "Fonny" at the stockade, and Fifinecontradicted, and after a spirited passage of "Did!" "Didn't!" "Did!""Didn't!" Fifine arose to go and prove her proposition.

There at the little spring, so sylvan sweet, so full, yet with themerest trickle of a branch that hardly wet the mint, so shyly hiddenamongst its rocks, was a fissure. Odalie had often noted it; dark itwas, for the shadows fell on it, and it might be deep; limited—it wouldbut hold[231] her piggin, should she thrust it there, or admit a man's head,yet not his shoulders—and this was what it had done yesterday, forprotruding thence Fifine maintained she had seen Willinawaugh's facewith "him top-feathers, him head, an' him ugly mouf!"

Odalie laid her ear to the ground to listen; smooth, quiet, full, sheheard the flow of water, doubtless the branch from the little springalways brimming, yet seeming to send so tiny a rill over the slopes ofthe mint. There was evidently a cave beneath, and they had never dreamedof it! She began to search about for fissures, finding here and there inthe deep herbage and the cleft rocks one that might admit the passage ofa man's body. She remembered the first sudden strange appearance of theCherokee women at her fireside, and afterward, and that Sandy and Hamishand Dill often declared that watch the gate as they might they never sawthe squaws enter the stockade nor issue therefrom. Doubtless they hadcome through the cave, that had a hidden exit.

Her heart throbbed, her eyes filled; "I ought to be so thankful todiscover it in time—to think how safe we felt here when the gates werelocked! But, oh, my home! my sweet, sweet home!"

The way the men's faces fell when they were summoned, and stood andlooked at the slope, might[232] make one pity them. It represented the hardlabor of nearly two years—and it was all to begin anew.

When Sandy, with the vigorous Scotch thrift, began to show how easilythe stockade might be moved to exclude the spring, Gilfillan shook hishead warningly. A station should never be without water. Sooner or laterits days were numbered. As to the stockade, it was futile. Twenty—nay,fifty men might be surprised and massacred here. For the ordinarypurposes of life the place was useless.

Hamish, after the first sharp pang, was resolved into curiosity; he mustneeds slip through the fissure and into the cave below. When Odalieceased her tears to remonstrate, he declared that he could get out ofany cave that Willinawaugh or Choo-qualee-qualoo could, and thendemanded to be tied to her apron-string to be drawn up again in case heshould prove unable to take care of himself. He went down with a whoop,somewhat like Willinawaugh's own war-cry, then called out that the coastwas clear, and asked for his rifle to be handed to him.

Following the wall with his hand and the sound of the water he took hisway through a narrow subterranean passage, so densely black that itseemed he had never before known what darkness was. He could hear naughtbut the wide, hollow echo of the flow of the stream, but never did ittouch his feet; and after he had progressed, as he judged, in[233]cludingthe windings of his way, some five or six miles, he began to recollect alittle, meager stream, yet flowing with a good force for its compass,that made a play in the current not a quarter of a mile, not more thanone thousand feet, from the fort. So well founded was his judgment oflocality that when the light first appeared, a pale glimmer at the endof a long tunnel, growing broader and clearer on approach, and hereached an archway with a sudden turn, seeming from without a mere"rock-house"—as a grotto formed by the beetling ledges of a cliff iscalled in that region—and with no further cavernous suggestion, thefirst thing that caught his eye was the English flag flying above theprimitive block-houses and bastions and out-works of Fort Loudon, whilethe little stream gathered all its strength and hied down through thethick underbrush to join the Tennessee River.

The officers heard with evident concern of the disaster that hadbefallen MacLeod Station, and immediately sent a runner to bid thestationers come to the fort, pending their selection of a new site andthe raising of new houses. So Odalie, with such few belongings as couldbe hastily collected once more loaded on a packhorse, again entered thegates of Fort Loudon with a heavy heart.

But it was a cheery group she encountered. The soldiers were swaggeringabout the parade in fine[234] form, the picture of military jollity, and thegreat hall was full of the officers and settlers. An express had come inwith news of a different complexion. Long delayed the bearer had been;tempted to turn back here, waiting an opportunity there, now assisted onhis backward journey by a friendly Indian, and again seeing a dodgingchance of making through to Loudon, he had traveled his two hundredmiles so slowly that the expedition he heralded came hard on theannouncement of its approach. While the tidings raised the spirits ofthe officers and the garrison, it was evident that the movement addedelements of danger and developed the crisis. Still they consisted withhope, and with that sentiment of good cheer and jovial courage whichsucceeded the reading of the brief dispatch from Fort Prince George.

Discussions of the situation were rife everywhere. There was much talkof the officer in command of the expedition, a man of distinguishedability and tried courage, and the contradictory Gilmore and Whitsonfound themselves in case to argue with great vivacity, offering largewagers of untransferable commodities,—such as one's head, one's eyes,[235]one's life,—on the minor point, impossible to be settled at the moment,as to whether or not he spelled his name with a final "y," onemaintaining this to be a fact, the other denying it, since he was ayounger brother (afterward succeeding to the title) of the Earl ofEglinton, who always spelled his name Montgomerie. It might haveafforded them further subject for discussion, and enlarged theirappreciation of the caricature of incongruity, could they have knownthat some two years later three of these savage Cherokee chiefs would bepresented to His Majesty King George in London by the Earl of Eglinton,where they were said to have conducted themselves with great dignity andpropriety. Horace Walpole in one of his letters chronicles them as thelions of the hour, dining with peers, and having a vocal celebrity, Mrs.Clive, to sing on one of these occasions in her best style for theirpleasure. In fact, such was the grace of their deportment, that severalof the newspapers seemed to deduce therefrom the failure ofcivilization, since the aboriginal state of man could show forth theseflowers of decorum, a point of view that offends to the quick a learnedhistorian, who argues astutely throughout a precious half-page of acompendious work that the refinements of spiritual culture are stillworth consideration, seeming to imply that although we cannot all beCherokee chieftains, and take London[236] by storm,—in a manner different,let us say in passing, from their previous reduction of smallercities,—it is quite advisable for us to mind our curriculum and ourcatechism, and be as wise and good as we may, if not distinguished.

Perhaps the Cherokees acted upon the intuitive perception of the valueof doing in Rome as the Romans do. And that rule of conduct seemsearlier to have been applied by Colonel Montgomery. However he spelledhis name, he was sufficiently identifiable. He came northward like anavenging fury. Advancing swiftly with a battalion of Highlanders andfour companies of the Royal Scots,[11] some militia and volunteers,through that wild and tangled country, he fell on Little Keowee Town,where with a small detachment he put every man to the sword, and, bymaking a night march with the main body of his force, almostsimultaneously destroyed Estatoe, taking the inhabitants so by surprisethat the beds were warm, the food was cooking, loaded guns exploded inthe flames, for the town was promptly fired, and many perished thus, thesoldiers having become almost uncontrollable on discovering the body ofan Englishman who had only that morning suffered death by torture at thehands of the savages. Sugaw Town next met this fate—in fact, almostevery one of the Ayrate towns of the Cherokee nation, before ColonelMontgomery wiped his bloody[237] sword, and sheathed it at the gates of FortPrince George, having personally made several narrow escapes.

These details, however, were to Fort Loudon like the flashes oflightning of a storm still below the horizon, and of which one is onlymade aware by the portentous conditions of the atmosphere. The seniorofficers of the post began to look grave. The idea occurred to them withsuch force that they scarcely dared to mention it one to the other, lestit be developed by some obscure electrical transmission in the brain ofOconostota, that Fort Loudon would offer great strategic value in thepossession of the Indians. The artillery, managed by French officers,who, doubtless, would appear at their appeal, might well suffice tocheck the English advance. The fort itself would afford impregnableshelter to the braves, their French allies and non-combatants. Alwaysthey had coveted it, always they claimed that it had been built forthem, here in the heart of their nation. Stuart was not surprised by theevent. He only wondered that it had not chanced earlier.

That night the enmity of the Indians was prefigured by a great glaresuddenly springing into the sky. It rose above the forests, and from theopen spaces about Fort Loudon, whence the woods had been cleared away,one could see it fluctuate and[238] flush more deeply, and expand along thehorizon like some flickering mystery of the aurora borealis. But thisbaleful glare admitted of no doubt. One needed not to speculate onunexplained possibilities of electrical currents, and resultant thrillsof light. It only epitomized and materialized the kindling of the firesof hate.

It was Odalie's little home; much that she valued still remainedthere—left to be quietly fetched to the fort next day. Their flittinghad taken place at dusk, with but a load of wearing apparel, and it wassupposed that the rest was quite safe, as the Cherokees were notpresumed to be apprised of their absence. The spinning-wheel and theloom; her laborious treasures of home-woven linen for bed and table; thefine curtains on which the birds flickered for the last time; the bedsand pillows, adding pounds on pounds of dry balsam needles to the fire;the flaunting, disguised tabourets, showing themselves now at their truevalue, and burning stolidly like the chunks of wood they were; theunsteady tables and puncheon benches; all the uncouth, forlorn littlemakeshifts of her humble housekeeping, that her embellishing touch hadrendered so pretty, added their fuel to the flames which castlong-glancing lines of light up and down the silvery reaches of theriver she had loved.

Captain Stuart and Captain Demeré, who had[239] gone instantly to the towerin the block-house by the gate, on the report of a strange, distantlight, saw her as they came down, and both paused, Demeré wincing atrifle, preferring not to meet her. She was standing beside one of thegreat guns and had been looking out through the embrasure. The moon wasdirectly overhead above the parade, and the shadows of the palisadesfell outward. The officers could not avoid her; their way led them downnear at hand and they needs must pass her. She turned, and as she stoodwith one hand on the big cannon, her white dress richly a-gleam in themoonlight, she looked at them with a smile, something of the saddest, inher eyes.

"If I wanted to scream, Mrs. MacLeod, I should scream," exclaimedDemeré, impulsively.

She laughed a little, realizing how he would have upbraided the futilityof tears had she shed them—he was always so ready with his staid, kind,undeniably reasonable rebukes.

"No," she said, "I am trying to remember that home is not in a house,but in the heart."

"I think you are trying to show us the mettle of a soldier," saidDemeré, admiringly.

"Mrs. MacLeod would like the king's commission!" cried Stuart, breakingthe tension with his bluff raillery, striking the cannon a smart tapwith the butt of the pistol he carried in his hand, while[240] the metalgave out a deep, hollow resonance. "Her unbridled ambition was always tobe the commanding officer!"

Both Stuart and Demeré thought more seriously of the demonstration asaffecting the public weal than did the pioneers of the settlement. Stillhoping for the best, it seemed to them not unnatural that an abandonedstation should be fired as merely wanton mischief, and not necessarilywith the knowledge or connivance of the head-men of the Cherokees.

The next day, the hunters of the fort went out betimes as usual, andHamish found it agreeable to make one of the party. Corporal O'Flynn wasamong the number, and several horses were taken to bring in the game; abright, clear day it was, of that sweet season when the spring bloomsgradually into the richness of summer. The wind was fresh; the riversang; the clouds of a glittering whiteness, a flocculent lightness,floated high in the blue sky. Suddenly the sentry at the gate called outsharply for the corporal of the guard. The men, lounging about theparade, turned to look and listen.

The hoof-beats of a horse coming at frantic speed smote first upon theear; then across the open space to which the glacis sloped, withsnorting head and flying mane and tail, the frightened creaturegalloped, plunging through the gate and half[241] across the paradeground; a soldier was on his back, leaning forward upon the animal'sneck, his arms clasped about it, the stirrups and his position aloneretaining him in the saddle; for he was dead—quite dead. Too dead toanswer any of the dozen questions hurled at him as the soldiers caughtthe bridle; when the horse whirled he reeled out of the saddle, sohopelessly dead that they asked him no more. The good sorrel would havetold much, if he might, as he stood, snorting and tossing his head, andtrembling in every fiber, his eyes starting out of their sockets, yet,conscious he was among his friends, looking from one to another of thesoldiers as they handled him, with an earnest appeal for sympathy andconsolation which implied some terrible ordeal. Before an order could begiven the crack of rifles came from the woods, and a few of the hunterswere seen bursting from the forest, one by one, and coming at adouble-quick up the slope of the glacis.

Hamish and O'Flynn were the last. They had been together a littledistant from the others. Now and again they had heard the report offirearms, multiplied into something like a volley.

"Listen at them spalpeens wastin' powdher," the corporal exclaimed once,wroth at this unsoldierly practice. "Must they have twenty thrys to hita big black buffalo? Just lemme git 'em into the[242] gyard house wunstagin—time they git out they'll be fit to worship the outside o' thedure; it'll look so strange an' good to 'm."

It was a wolf-trap which he was exploiting at the moment, made of logscumbrously adjusted and baited with buffalo meat, and within it now weretwo large, handsome specimens whose skins were of value, and who hadevidently resolved to part with those ornamental integuments asreluctantly as might be; they were growling and plunging at the timberswith a most ferocious show of fangs and the foam flying from theirsnarling jaws.

The sun sifted down through the great trees and the soft green shadowson the man and boy, both clad in the hunter's buckskin shirt andleggings. Corporal O'Flynn had knelt down outside the pen the better tosee in the shadow the two plunging wild beasts.

"I'm afeared to shoot so close lest I might singe yer hair, but I can'tstand on ceremony, me dears," he said, addressing the wolves, as he drewhis pistol. "Bedad, Imust go and stop that wastin' o' powdher!"

The next moment something suddenly sang aloud in the wilderness—a wild,strange, sibilant strain. It seemed materialized as it whizzed pastHamish's ear, and so long had it been since he had heard the flight ofthe almost discarded arrow that he did not[243] recognize the sound till heheard a sharp exclamation of pain and saw the shaft sticking inO'Flynn's right arm, pinning it to the logs of the wolf-trap. The clawsof the wild beasts, reaching through, tore now the buckskin and now theflesh from his chest, as he pluckily struggled to free himself; thepistol went off in his grasp and one of the wolves fell in convulsiveagonies; the other, dismayed, shrank back. Hamish caught up O'Flynn'sloaded gun, looking about warily for Indians, and prudently reservinghis fire. He saw naught, and the next moment he realized that O'Flynnwas fainting from the pain. He knew that the straggler who had shot thearrow had sped swiftly away to summon other Cherokees, or to secure agun or more arrows. He risked his life in waiting only a moment, butwith the fellow-feeling which was so strong among the pioneers of theTennessee Valley that it would induce two men at parting, having but oneknife between them, to break and share the blade, to divide the powderthat meant life in that wild country equally to the last grain. Hamishdid not for one instant contemplate any other course. He rushed toO'Flynn and sought to release him, but the flint of the arrow that hadgone through the heavy muscular tissues of the arm still stuck fast inthe strong fiber of the logs of the trap, and the blood was streaming,and once more the wolf was angrily plunging against the[244] side of thepen. Suddenly the boy remembered the juvenile account of the scalping of"Dill." Calling piteously to O'Flynn not to mind, if he could help it,Hamish placed one firm foot against the straight back of the soldier,and bracing himself with his left arm around a stanch young tree, hepulled at the arrow with all his might. There was a ripping sound offlesh, a human scream, a creak of riving wood, and Corporal O'Flynn layface downward on the ground, freed, but with the shaft still in his arm,the blood spurting from it, and the wolf plunging and snarling unheededat the very hair of his head.

CHAPTER IX

With a great effort Hamish dragged O'Flynn, who was a heavy, muscularfellow, out of the reach of the wolf. Fortunately there chanced to be aspring branch near at hand, and the ice-cold water hurriedly dashed intothe corporal's face, together with an earnest reminder of the hideousdanger of death and torture by the Indians, and a sense of thepossibility of escape, served to sufficiently restore him to enable himto get upon his feet, unsteadily enough, however, and with Hamish's helpmake his way toward the fort at a pretty fair speed. He fainted afterthey crossed the ditch, and the great gates closed. These two were thelast of the hunters who found rescue; the others who had straggled inpreviously, reported having been fired upon by Indians, and that severaldead soldiers were left upon the ground.

The parade was a scene of wild turmoil, far different from its usualorderly military aspect. The settlers and their families, alarmed atlast, had fled for refuge to the fort, bringing only a small portion of[246]their scanty possessions. Women were weeping in agitation and terror ofthe dangers passed, and in despair because of the loss of their littlehomes, which the Indians were even now pillaging; children were clingingabout their mothers and peevishly plaining, their nerves unstrung by therush and commotion, and the unaccustomed aspect of the place; bundles ofclothing and bedding lay about on the ground; the pioneers moved hitherand thither, now seeking to adjust discomforts and clear the domesticatmosphere, now aiding in the preparations for an expected attack.

Odalie, who had braced up her heart, found little to encourage her asshe went from one to another of the matrons and sought to comfort themwith the reflection that it might have been worse. "For my own part,"she declared, "I think of what might have been. If my household gearwere not sacrificed we should have been at home last night when theIndians came and found us gone and sacked and fired the house. And sucha little thing to save us—Fifine's talk of seeing Willinawaugh."

"Him top-feathers, him head, an' him ugly mouf," reiterated Fifine, whohad become impressed with the belief that she had done something veryclever indeed, and was enchanted to hear it celebrated.[247]

Odalie's exertions were more appreciated at the hospital, where sheassisted in dressing the wounds and caring for the comfort of thesoldiers who had been shot. Afterward, still determined to make the bestof things and to help all she could, she discovered a mission to tax herpowers in offering to assist in what manner she might thequarter-master-sergeant. That functionary looked as if the conundrum ofthe created world had suddenly been propounded to him. He was a short,square, red-faced man, with light, staring, gray eyes, and they seemedabout to pop out of his head whenever the finding of quarters foranother family was required of him.

"Why couldn't they have brought some conveniences, such as knives andforks and cups and platters, instead of fool trifles?" he demandedfiercely, aside, as he turned away from one group who were as destituteof all appliances as if they had expected to peck off the ground, ordrink out of the bubbles of the spring branch. "I have got none to spareexcept those of the poor fellows who were killed and Corporal O'Flynn's,for he will be equal to nothing but spoon-meat for one while."

"Oh, the poor settlers,—I pity them,—and poor Mr. Green,—I feel veryguilty, for I came here just such a charge on the resources of the fort,myself."[248]

He paused pudgily, as if he were mentally in full run and had brought upwith a short stop.

He felt equal to any arrangements for merely military mortals, but the"squaw question," as he mentally called it, overwhelmed him. With a lotof anxious, troubled, houseless women and querulous, distraught,frightened children, and difficult half-grown boys,—and thecommandant's general orders to quarter them all to their satisfactionand to furnish whatever was necessary,—the strain might have proved toogreat for the old bustling sergeant, and like undue pressure on theboiler of one of our modern locomotives, which he much resembled, as hewent back and forth puffingly, might have exploded his valuablefaculties, but for Odalie's well-meant hints.

"I should give Mrs. Halsing the larger room if I were you," shesuggested. "Mrs. Beedie is a friend of mine and I will answer for itthat she won't mind." Or—"If I might suggest, I wouldn't put Mrs. Deanand the twin babies next to Mrs. Rush. Nervous headaches and otherpeople's twin babies won't keep step—not one bit. Put them next to me.I am conveniently deaf at times."

And Mrs. Halsing said, "That French thing flirts with every man in thefort, from the commandant[249] down to Mrs. Dean's one-year-old boy twin!"For Odalie was presently conveying this juvenile personage about in herarms, and he left off a whimper, characteristic of no particular age orsex, to exhibit a truly masculine interest in the big soldiers withtheir bright uniforms and clanking accouterments, and althoughconstrained by the force of the concussion to blink and close his eyeswhenever the great guns were fired, he fairly wheezed and squealed withmanly ecstasy in the sound—for a cannonade had begun, seeking to deterthe plunder of the deserted houses in the settlement.

The din suddenly ceased; the active military figures paused in the swiftpreparations that were in progress to meet the expected attack; theconfusion and stir of the groups of settlers' families in the paradewere petrified in a sort of aghast disarray; amongst them appeared halfa dozen stalwart fellows bearing a stretcher, on which lay the body ofthe dead soldier whom the horse had brought into the fort, his youngboyish face all smooth again and serenely upturned to the serene sky. Hewas dressed in his uniform, with his belt and gloves freshly pipeclayedand glittering white. His melancholy progress from the crowded barracksto a vacant building where were kept the spare arms,—called thearmory,—there to wait the few remaining hours of his sojourn in thesefamiliar scenes, served to deepen the gloom[250] with the thought of theothers of the little band, lying out in the woods, who would not receiveeven such simple honors of sepulture as the fort could bestow.

But after the next day, when the poor young soldier was buried (thechildren wept dreadfully at the sound of the muffled drum, the troopsbeing touched by their sympathetic tears, and Captain Demeré read theburial service and alluded feelingly to the other dead of the garrison,to whom they could only do reverence in the heart and keep their memorygreen)—after all this the place took on an air of brisk cheerfulnessand the parade ground presented somewhat the appearance of the esplanadeof a watering-place, minus the wealth and show and fashion.

In the evenings after the dress-parade and the boom of the sunset-gun,the elder women sat about in the doors and porches, and knitted andgossiped, and the men walked up and down and discussed the stale warnews from Europe—for the triumphs of British arms were then rife in allthe world—or sat upon the grass and played dominoes or cards; thesoldiers near the barracks threw horseshoes for quoits; the childrenrollicked about, shrill but joyous; Odalie and Belinda Rush in theircool fresh linen dresses, arm in arm, the admiration of all beholders,strolled up and down with measured[251] step and lissome grace; and the flagwould slip down, and the twilight come on, and a star tremble in theblue summer sky; and the sweet fern that overhung the deep clear spring,always in the shadow of the oaks near one of the block-houses, wouldgive out a fresh, pungent fragrance. Presently the moon would shed herbland benediction over all the scene, and the palisades would drawsharp-pointed shadows on the dark interior slope, and beside each cannonthe similitude of another great gun would be mounted; a pearly glisterwould intimate where the river ran between the dense glossy foliage ofthe primeval woods, and only the voice of the chanting cicada, or thelong dull drone of the frogs, or the hooting of an owl, would come fromthe deserted village, lying there so still and silent, guarded by theguns of the fort.

And after a little Odalie would be strolling on her husband's arm in themoonlight, and would silently gaze about with long, doubting, diplomaticeyelashes and inquiring eyes when asked where was Belinda Rush,—whichconduct induced Mrs. Halsing's comment as to Mrs. MacLeod's proclivitytoward matchmaking. For in the neighborhood of the northwestern bastionone might see, if one were very keen, sitting in the moonlight on thetread of the banquette, Belinda Rush and Ensign Whitson—talking andtalking—of what?—so much!—in fact so much[252] that at other times EnsignWhitson had little to say, and Lieutenant Gilmore pined for lack ofcontradiction, and his powers of argument fell away.

Captain Demeré and Captain Stuart, on their way to a post of observationin the block-house tower, came near running over these young peopleseated thus one moonlight night—to Captain Demeré's manifest confusionand Captain Stuart's bluff delight, although both passed with seriousmien, doffing their hats with some casual words of salutation. Despitehis relish of the episode, Stuart glanced down at them afterward fromthe block-house tower and said, in a tone of commiseration, "Poor littlelove-story!"

The expected attack by the Indians took place one night late, in thedead hour, after the sinking of the moon, and with all the cunning of adesigned surprise. The shadowy figures, that one might imagine would beindistinguishable from the darkness, had crept forward, encompassing thefort, approaching nearly to the glacis, when the crack of a sentry'sfirelock rang out, splitting the dead silence, and every cannon of thetwelve roared in hideous unison, for the gunners throughout the[253] nightlay ready beside the pieces. A fusillade ill-directed upon the works,for the besiegers encountered the recoil of the surprise they hadplanned, met a furious response from the loop-holes where the firelocksof the garrison were reënforced by the rifles of the backwoodsmen. Everyman had been assigned his post, and it seemed that the wild alarum ofthe drum had hardly begun to vibrate on the thrilling air when each,standing aside from the loop-hole according to orders, leveled hisweapon without sighting and fired. Wild screams from without, now andagain, attested the execution of these blind volleys into the blacknight, and the anguish that overcame the stoical fortitude of thewarlike Cherokee. The crashing of the trees, as the cannon on all sidessent the heavy balls thundering beyond the open space into the forest,seemed to indicate that the retreat of the assailants was cut off, orthat it must needs be made under the open fire of the artillery.

How the movement fared the defenders could ill judge, because of thetumult of their own rapidly delivered volleys—all firing to the word,the "fencibles" adopting the tactics of the garrison in which they hadbeen so well drilled—and the regular reverberations of the rapidlyserved cannon. They only knew when the ineffectual fire of theassailants slackened, then ceased; the crash of riving timber,[254] and nowand again a hideous yell from the forest, told of the grim deed wroughtbeyond the range of the firelock by the far-reaching great guns.

It was soon over, and although the garrison stood ready at their postsfor an hour or more afterward, till the night was wearing into dawn, nofurther demonstration was made.

"Vastly fine! They will not return to the attack,—the fun's over,"Captain Stuart cried hilariously;—his face and hands were as black withpowder "as if he had been rubbing noses with the cannon," CorporalO'Flynn said, having crawled out of the hospital on his hands and kneesto participate in the fight in some wise, if only as spectator.

"They have had a lesson," said Demeré, with grim triumph, "how severe,we can't judge till we see the ground."

This satisfaction, however, was to be denied them, for the corporal ofthe guard presently brought the report of a sentinel whose sharp eyeshad descried, in the first faint gray siftings of the dawn through theblack night, parties of Indians, chiefly women, carrying off the deadand disabled, and now and then a wild, shuddering groan or ahalf-smothered cry of the wounded attested their errand of mercy.

"They ought to show a white flag," said Demeré, exactingly, like themartinet he was.[255]

"And they ought to wear top-boots on their feet, and Steinkirks aroundtheir gullets, and say their prayers, but they don't," retorted Stuartin high good humor, for his rigorous discipline and persistent formalitywere exerted only on his own forces; he cared not to require suchpunctiliousness of the enemy since it did not serve his interest. "Letthem take the carrion away. We don't want to play scavenger forthem—from an ambuscade they could make it mighty hot for us! And weshould be compelled to do it for sanitary reasons—too close to the fortto let the bodies lie there and rot."

And with this prosaic reminder Captain Demeré was content to dispensewith the polite formality of a flag of truce. They never knew what theloss might be on the Indian side, nor did the braves again venturewithin gunshot. Now and then the cannon sought to search the woods andlocate the line, but no sound followed the deep-voiced roar, save theheavy reverberations of the echo from up and down the river and thesullen response of the craggy hills. The cannonade had served toacquaint the Cherokees with an accurate estimate of the range of theguns. The fact that a strong cordon was maintained just beyond this, wasdiscovered when the post hunters were again sent out, on the theory thatthe repulse of the Indians had been sufficiently decisive to induce asuspension of hostilities and a[256] relinquishment of their designs tocapture the fort, if not a relapse into the former pacific relations.The hunters were driven back by a smart fire, returning with one manshot through the leg, brought in by a comrade on horseback, and fourothers riding double, leaving their slain horses on the ground. Itbecame very evident that the Cherokees intended to maintain a blockade,since the fort obviously could not be carried by storm, and thecommandant was proof against surprise. To send the hunters out again wasbut to incur the futile loss of life and thus weaken the garrison. Thesupply of fresh game already in the fort being exhausted, the few headof cattle and the reserves of the smoke-house came into use.

The very fact that such reserves had been provided put new heart intothe soldiers and roused afresh the confidence of the settlers, who hadbegun to quake at the idea of standing a siege so suddenly begun,without warning or preparation, save indeed for the forethought for allemergencies manifested by the senior officers. Both Demeré and Stuartbecame doubly popular, and when there was a call for volunteers to runthe blockade and severally carry dispatches to Colonel Montgomery, theyhad but to choose among all the men in the fort. The tenor of thesedispatches was to apprise Colonel Montgomery of the blockade of FortLoudon and[257] ask relief, urging him to push forward at once and attackthe Ottare towns, when valuable assistance could be rendered him by theordnance of the fort, as well as by a detachment of infantry from theforces of the garrison attacking the Indians on the flank in support ofthe aggressions of his vanguard.

Gilfillan was selected as the earliest express sent out, and loud andwoeful was Fifine's outcry when she discovered that her precious "Dill"was to be withdrawn from her sight. But when he declared that he needsmust go to keep the Indians from cutting off her curls and starving outthe garrison—Mrs. Dean's twin babies were represented as the mostimminent victims, so much more precious than one, "being philopenas" asO'Flynn admonished her—she consented, and tearfully bade him adieu. Andhe kissed her very gravely, and very gravely at her request kissed thecat. So with these manifestations of his simple affection he goes out ofthese pages beyond all human ken, and into the great unknown. For Dillreturned no more.

His long backwoods experience, his knowledge of Indian character, hiswide familiarity with the face of the country, and many by-ways andunfrequented routes, his capacity to speak the Cherokee language, allcombined to suggest his special fitness for the dangerous part he hadundertaken to play.

The next express, going two days later and[258] following the beaten track,was a man who had frequently served in this capacity and knew half theIndians of the Lower Towns and Middle Settlements by name—aquick-witted pioneer, "half-trader, half-hunter, and half-packman," ashe often described himself, and he had been in the country, he boasted,"ever since it was built."

The choice of these two men was evidently specially judicious, and afterthe mysterious disappearance of each, being smuggled out of the fort indead silence and the darkest hour of the deep night, the garrisonsettled down to a regular routine, to wear away the time till they mightwake some morning to hear the crack of Montgomery's musketry on thehorizon, or the hissing of his grenades burning out their fuses andbursting among the dense jungles, where the Cherokees lay in ambush andblockaded Fort Loudon.

The military precision and order maintained continued as strict asheretofore. It argued no slight attention to detail and adroit handlingof small opportunities that the comfort of the soldiers was in no wisereduced by the intrusion into their restricted domain of so considerablea number of people, many unprovided with the most ordinary conveniencesof life. Even in such a matter as table and cooking utensils the food ofthe companies was served as heretofore, and only after the military hadbreakfasted[259] or dined, or supped, could their precious pewter plattersand cups be borrowed by the families, to be rigorously cleaned andrestored before the preparations began for the next meal. Every utensilin the place did double duty, yet not one failed to be ready for servicewhen required. Mrs. Halsing ventured to cavil, and suggested that shehad always heard elsewhere that it was polite to serve ladies andchildren first, instead of giving a lot of hulking soldiers precedence.

"Why, madam," Demeré said, with rebuking severity, "the men are themuscles of our defense, and must be kept in the best possible physicalcondition."

Nothing was allowed to interfere with the regular hours of the troops orbreak their rest. Tattoo and "lights out" had the same meaning for thewomen and children and wild young boys as for the soldiery; noboisterous callow cries and juvenile racing and chasing were permittedon the parade; no belated groups of gossipers; no nocturnal wailing ofwickedly wakeful infants in earshot.

"A-body would think the men was cherubim or seraphim the way thecommandant cares for them," plained Mrs. Halsing.

The supplies were regulated by the same careful supervision and servedout duly by weight and allowance. Somewhat frugal seemed this dole,es[260]pecially to those who had lived on the unlimited profusion of thewoodland game, yet it was sufficient. No violent exercise, to which themen had been accustomed, required now the restoring of exhausted tissuesby a generous food supply. There was ample provision, too, made for theoccupation of the men's attention and their amusement. The regularcleaning of quarters, inspection, drill and guard duties, anddress-parades went on as heretofore, with the "fencibles" as anauxiliary body. The rude games of ball, ring toss, leap-frog were variedsometimes by an exhibition, given under the auspices of the officers, offeats of strength; certain martial Samsons lifted great weights, madeastonishing leaps, ran like greyhounds competing with one another in amarked-off course, or engaged in wrestling-matches—to the unboundedapplause of the audience, except the compassionate Fifine, who weptloudly and inconsolably whenever a stalwart fellow caught a fall. Onerainy evening, in the officers' mess-hall, the society of the fort wasinvited to hear the performance of a clever but rascally fellow, moreused to ride the wooden horse than to any other occupation, who was abit of a ventriloquist. Among other feats he made Fifine's cat talk, andtell about Willinawaugh with "him top-feathers, him head, an' him uglymouf," to the great relish of his comrades (who resented[261] the fact thatthe Indians, exceedingly vain of their own personal appearance,[12] wereaccustomed to speak of the paleface as the "ugly white people"); to theintense, shrieking delight of the elder children; and to the amazementof Fifine, who could not understand afterward why thedouce mignonnewould not talk to her. When the pretended conversation of the cat grewfunnily profane, Captain Demeré only called out "Time's up," from theback of the hall, and the fellow came sheepishly down from the platform,holding the borrowed kitty by the nape of the neck, and half theaudience did not catch the funny swear that he attributed to theexemplary feline. Then there was a shadow-pantomime, where immaterialroisterers "played Injun," and went through the horrid details ofscalping and murders, with grotesque concomitant circumstances,—such asthe terrifying ricochet effects on an unsophisticated red-man of rivinga buzz-wig from the head of his victim in lieu of a real scalp, and theconsequent sudden exchange of the characters of pursued andpursuer,—all of which, oddly enough, the people who stood in imminentdanger of a horrible fate thought very funny indeed.

One evening the commandant devised a new plan to pass the time. All weresummoned to the parade ground to share in an entertainment designated as"Songs of all nations."[262]

"An' I could find it in my stommick to wish it was to share in 'Soups ofall nations,'" said Corporal O'Flynn to a comrade. For it seemed thatthe quartermaster-sergeant had docked his rations by an ounce or two, adifference that made itself noted in so slender a dole and aconvalescent's appetite.

It was a night long to be remembered. The great coils of Scorpio seemedcovered with scintillating scales, so brilliant were the stars. No cloudwas in the sky, unless one might so call that seeming glittering vapor,the resplendent nebulose clusters of the Galaxy. A wind was movingthrough the upper atmosphere, for the air was fresh and cool, but belowwas the soft, sweet stillness of the summer night, full of fragrantodors from the woods, the sound of the swift-flowing river, the outpourof the melody of a mocking-bird that had alighted on the tip of thegreat flagstaff, and seemed to contribute thence his share to the songsof all nations. He caught upon his white wing and tail-feathers, as heflirted them, the clear radiance of the moon,—not a great orb, butsending forth a light fair enough to be felt in all that siderealglitter of the cloudless sky, to show the faces of Odalie and Belindaand others less comely, as the ladies sat in chairs under the line oftrees on one side of the parade with a group of officers near them, andthe[263] soldiers and "single men" and children of the settlers filling thebenches of the post which were brought out for the occasion. So they allsang, beginning with a great chorus of "Rule Britannia," into which theythrew more force and patriotism than melody. Then came certain soloperformances, some of which were curious enough. Odalie's Frenchchansonnettes acquired from her grand'maman, drifting out in a mellowcontralto voice, and a big booming proclamation concerning the"Vaterland," by the drum-major, were the least queerly foreign. Mrs.Halsing, after much pressing, sang an outlandish, repetitious melodythat was like an intricate wooden recitative, and the words weresuspected of being Icelandic,—though she averred they were High Dutch,to the secret indignation of the drum-major, who, as O'Flynn afterwardremarked, when discussing the details of the evening, felt himselfqualified by descent to judge, his own father-in-law having been aGerman. The men who had sung in the Christmas carols remembered oldEnglish ditties,—

and "Barbara Allen." Corporal O'Flynn, in the most incongruouslysentimental and melancholy of tenors, sang "Savourneen Deelish eileenogg." The sober Sandy gave a rollicking Scotch drinking-song that seemedto show the very bead on the liquor,[264] "Hey the browst, and hey thequaigh!". The officers' cook, a quaint old African, seated cross-leggedon the ground, on the outskirts of the crowd, piped up at thecommandant's bidding, and half sang, half recited, in a wide, deep,musical voice, and an unheard-of language that excited great interestfor a time; but interpreting certain manifestations of applause amongthe soldiers as guying, he took himself and his ear-rings and a gaykerchief, which he wore, to the intense delight of the garrison, as abelt around the waistband of his knee-breeches, to his kitchen, replyingwith cavalier insubordination,—pioneer of the domestic manners of thesedays,—to Captain Stuart's remonstrances by the assertion that he had towash his kettle.

There were even cradle songs, for Mrs. Dean, who certainly had amplefield for efforts in that line, sang a sweet little theme, saying sheknew nothing else, and a big grenadier, whose hair was touched withgray, and who spoke in a deep sonorous voice (the Cherokees had alwayscalled himKanoona, "the bull-frog"), respectfully requested to knowof the lady if she could sing one that he had not heard for forty years,in fact, not since his mother sang it to him. One or two of thesettlers, hailing originally from England, remembered it too, and somediscussion ensued touching the words and the exact turn of the tune. Inthe midst of this a wag among the[265] younger pioneers mischievouslysuggested that the grenadier should favor them with a rendition of hisversion, and the big soldier, in the simplicity of his heart and hisfond old memories, in a great bass voice that fairly trembled with itsown weight, began "Bye-low, bye-low"; and the ventriloquist who had madethe cat swear, and who so often rode the wooden horse, was compelledduring the performance to wear his hat adjusted over his face, for hisgrin was of a distention not to be tolerated in polite society.

Perhaps because of the several contradictory phases of interest involvedin this contribution to the entertainment, it held the general attentionmore definitely than worthier vocal efforts that had preceded it, andthe incident passed altogether unnoticed, except by Captain Stuart, whenthe corporal of the guard appeared in the distance, his metal buttonsglimmering from afar in the dusk as he approached, and Captain Demerésoftly signaled to him to pause, and rising quietly vanished in theshadow of the block-house. He encountered Stuart at the door, for he hadalso slipped away from the crowd, himself, like a shadow.

"The express from Fort Prince George," Demeré replied, his voice tense,excited, with the realization of an impending crisis.

CHAPTER X

Demeré was not a man to consider an omen and attach weight to triflingchances, yet he was in some sort prepared for disaster. Within the halla pair of candles stood on the table where it was the habit to transactofficial business,—to write letters; to construct maps of the countryfrom the resources of the information of the officers and thedescriptions of the Indians; to make out reports and the accounts of thepost. Writing materials were kept in readiness here for thesepurposes—a due array of quills, paper, inkhorn, wafers, sealing-wax,sand-box, and lights. As the door was opened the candles flickered inthe sudden draught, bowed to the wicks grown long and unsnuffed, and inanother moment were extinguished, leaving the place in total darkness,with the papers on which hung such weighty interests of life and death,of rescue or despair, unread in his hand.

"The tinder-box—the flint—where are they? Cannot you strike a spark?"he demanded, in agitated suspense, of Stuart, who made more than one[267]fruitless effort before the timorous flame was started anew on the oldand drooping wicks, which had to be smartly snuffed before they wouldafford sufficient light to discern the hasty characters, that looked asif they might have been written on a drumhead—as in fact they were.

"Here—read them, John—I can't," said Demeré, handing the package toStuart, and throwing himself into a chair to listen.

Although the suspense had been of the kind that does not usually heraldsurcease of anxiety, he was not prepared for the face of consternationwith which Stuart silently perused the scrawled lines.

"From Montgomery!" he exclaimed. "But our dispatches evidently havenever reached him."

For in the bold strain of triumph Colonel Montgomery acquainted thecommandant of Fort Loudon with the successful issue of his campaign,having lost only four men, although he had burned a number of Indiantowns, destroyed incalculable quantities of provisions, killed andwounded many braves, and was carrying with him a train of prisoners,men, women, and children. He was now on the march to the relief of FortPrince George, which the savages had invested, where the garrison was inmuch distress, not for the want of provisions but for fuel to cook food,since the enemy was in[268] such force that no sortie could be made to thewoods to procure a supply. Two of his prisoners he had set at liberty,Fiftoe, and the old warrior of Estatoe, that they might acquaint thenation of his further intentions, for, if the Indians did notimmediately sue for peace and deliver up the principal transgressors tojustice, he would sally forth from Fort Prince George on another foray,and he would not hold his hand till he had burned every Cherokee town ofthe whole nation. He deputed Captain Stuart and Captain Demeré to offerthese terms to the Upper towns, and let them know that they wereadmitted to this clemency solely in consideration of the regard of thegovernment for Atta-Kulla-Kulla. This chieftain, the half-king of theCherokee tribe, had deprecated, it was understood, the renewal of thewar, since he had signed the last treaty at the Congarees, and havingshown himself friendly on several occasions to the British people hismajesty's government esteemed him as he deserved.

The two officers gazed silently at one another. Montgomery was obviouslyentirely unaware of their situation. Here they were, penned up in thisrestricted compass, besieged by an enemy so furious that even a hatshowing but for one moment above the palisades,—for the soldiers hadtried the experiment of poising an old busby on the point of abayonet,—would be riddled in an instant. Often[269] a well-directed bulletwould enter the small loop-holes for musketry, and thus, firing fromambush, endanger the sentinel as he stood within the strong defenses.More than once arrows, freighted with inflammable substances, allablaze, had been shot into the fort with the effort to fire the houses;it was dry weather mostly, with a prospect of a long drought, and theflames thus started threatened a conflagration, and required theexertions of the entire garrison to extinguish them. This proclivitynecessitated eternal vigilance. Ever and anon it was requisite that thecannon should renew their strong, surly note of menace, and again sendthe balls crashing through the forest, and about the ears of thepersistent besiegers. Only the strength of the primitive work saved thegarrison from instant massacre, with the women and children and thesettlers who had sought safety behind those sturdy ramparts. Of theultimate danger of starvation the officers did not dare to think. Andfrom this situation to be summoned to send forth threats of sword andfire, and to offer arrogant terms of peace, and to demand the surrender,to the justice of the gibbet, of the principal transgressors in theviolation of the treaty!

There were no words that could express what they felt. They could onlylook at one another, each conscious of the other's sympathy, and saynothing.[270]

Outside, Odalie, Belinda, and Ensign Whitson were singing a trio, theparts somewhat at haphazard, the fugue-like effects coming in like thecadences of the wind, now high, now low, and in varying strength. Thestars still glittered down into the parade; the moon cast a gentleshadow along the palisades; the sentries in the block-house towers, thegunners lying flat beneath their great cannon, feeling the dew on theirfaces, looking toward the moon, the guard ready to turn out at theword,—all listened languorously, and drank in the sweets of the summernight with the music. A scene almost peaceful, despite the guardedwalls, and the savage hordes outside, balked, and furious, and thirstingfor blood.

The express had repeatedly served as a means of communication betweenFort Loudon and Fort Prince George, and as he came in he cautiouslyclosed the door. He was a man of war, himself, in some sort, and wasaware that a garrison is hardly to be included in the conference betweencommanders of a frontier force and their chosen emissary. With theinside of his packet his brain was presumed to have no concern, but insuch a time and such a country his eyes and ears, on his missions to andfro, did such stalwart service in the interests of his[271] own safety thathe was often able to give the officers at the end of his route far moreimportant news, the fruits of his observation, than his dispatches werelikely to unfold. He was of stalwart build, and clad in the fringedbuckskin shirt and leggings of the hunter, and holding his coonskin capin his hand. He had saluted after the military fashion, and hadevidently been enough the inmate of frontier posts to have some regardfor military rank. He waited, despite his look of having much of momentto communicate, until the question had been casually propounded byStuart: "Well, what can you tell us of the state of the country?" thenin disconnected sentences the details came in torrents.

Montgomery's campaign had been something unheard of. His "feet werewinged with fire and destruction,"—that was what Oconostota said. Oh,yes, the express had seen Oconostota. But for Oconostota he could nothave made Fort Loudon. He had let him come with the two warriors, setfree by Montgomery to suggest terms of peace and spread the news of thedevastation, as a safe-guard against any straggling white people theymight chance to meet, and in return they afforded him safe-conduct fromthe Cherokees. The devastation was beyond belief,—dead and dyingIndians lying all around the lower country, and many were burned alivein their houses when the towns were fired.[272] Many were now pitifullydestitute. As the fugitives stood on the summits of distant hills andwatched their blazing homes and great granaries of corn—"I could but besorry for them a little," declared Major Grant of Montgomery's command.

But the result was not to be what Montgomery hoped. The Cherokees werearming anew everywhere. They would fight now to the death, toextermination,—even Atta-Kulla-Kulla, who had been opposed to breakingthe treaty. Oh, yes, he had seen Atta-Kulla-Kulla. The chief said hewould not strike a blow with a feather to break a treaty and his solemnword. But to avenge the blood of his kindred that cried out from theground he would give his life, if he had as many years to live as therewere hairs on his head! The express added that Atta-Kulla-Kulla had beensitting on the ground in his old blanket, with ashes on his head, afterthe council agreed to break the treaty. But now he was going round withhis scalp-lock dressed out with fresh eagle-feathers, and armed with hisgun, and tomahawk, and scalp-knife, and wearing his finest gear, andwith all his war-paint on—one side of his face red, and the otherblack, with big white circles around his eyes,—"looks mighty keen," theman exclaimed with a sort of relish of the fine barbaric effect of thefighting trim of the great warrior.

"And I told Oconostota that I would not deliver his message to you,Captain Stuart and Captain Demeré, sir," he hesitated; "it was not fitfor your worshipful presence; and he said that the deed might go beforethe word, then."

"Well, sir, he said Fort Loudon was theirs,—that it was built for theCherokees, and they had paid the English nation for it in the blood theyhad shed in helping the Virginians defend their frontier against theFrench and their Indian allies. But you English had possessed the fort;you had claimed it; and now he would say that it was yours,—yours to beburnt in,—to be starved in,—to die in,—to leave your bones in, tillthey are thrust forth by the rightful owner to be gnawed by the wolf ofthe wilderness."

"Lord, sir," said the man, as if the sound grated upon him, "they are adreadful people. I wouldn't go through again what I have had to risk toget here for—any money! It has been full three weeks since I leftOconostota's camp. He is with the Lower towns—him and Atta-Kulla-Kulla,but Willinawaugh is the head-man of the force out here.[274] They seemed tothink I was spying,—but they have got so many men that I just doubtsbut what they want you should know their strength."

"You will go back to Colonel Montgomery at Fort Prince George withdispatches?" said Demeré.

The man's expression hardened. "Captain Demeré," he said, "and CaptainStuart, sir, I have served you long and faithful. You know I bean't nocoward. But it is certain death for me to go out of that sally-port. Icouldn't have got in except for that message from Oconostota. He wantedyou to hear that. I believe 'Old Hop' thinks Willinawaugh can terrifyyou out of this place if they can't carry it by storm. I misdoubts butthey expects Frenchmen to join them. They talk so sweet on the French!Every other word is Louis Latinac! That French officer has made thembelieve that the English intend to exterminate the Cherokees from offthe face of the earth."

He paused a moment in rising discontent,—to have done so much, yetrefuse aught! "I wouldn't have undertook to bring that message fromOconostota except I thought it was important for you to have yourdispatches; it ain't my fault if they ain't satisfactory." He cast aglance of the keenest curiosity at the papers, and Captain Stuart,lazily filling his pipe, took one of the candles in his hand and kindledthe tobacco at the blaze.[275]

"Nothing is satisfactory that is one-sided," he said easily. "We don'twant Colonel Montgomery to do all the talking, and to have to receivehis letters as orders. We propose to say a word ourselves."

A gleam of intelligence was in the scout's eyes. It was a time whenthere was much professional jealousy rife in the various branches of theservice, and he had been cleverly induced to fancy that here was a casein point. These men had a command altogether independent of ColonelMontgomery, it was true, but he was of so much higher rank thatdoubtless this galled them, and rendered them prone to assert their ownposition. He bent his energies now, however, to a question touching hispay, and answering a seemingly casual inquiry relative to the fact thathe had heard naught of Gilfillan and the other express, was dismissedwithout being subjected to greater urgency.

The two maintained silence for a time, the coal dying in CaptainStuart's pipe as he absently contemplated the fireless chimney-placefilled now with boughs of green pine.

Demeré spoke first. "If we can get no communication with ColonelMontgomery it means certain death to all the garrison."

The problem stayed with them all that night.[276] They were forced tomaintain a cheerful casual guise in the presence of their little public,and the appearance of the express put great heart into the soldiery. Thefact that the commandant was in the immediate receipt of advices fromColonel Montgomery and his victorious army seemed itself a pledge ofsafety. The express was turned loose among them to rehearse the exploitsof Montgomery's troops,—the splendid forced marches they made; theexecution of their marksmanship; the terror that the Cherokeesmanifested of their sputtering grenades, hurled exploding into theambuscades by the stalwart grenadiers at the word,—"Fall on"; theinterest of the Indians in the sound of the bagpipes and in the nationaldress, the plaid and philibeg, of the Highlanders, which, although nowgenerally proscribed by law, was continued as a privilege granted tothose enlisted in regiments in the British army. He told of the delightof the Highlanders in the sight of the Great Smoky Mountains, how theyrejoiced to climb the crags and steep ravines even of the foothills. Herepeated jokes and gibes of the camp outside Fort Prince George, forMontgomery had overtaken him and raised the siege before he reached thefort, so difficult was the slow progress of the express among theinimical Cherokees. He detailed Colonel Montgomery's relish of the sightof a piece of field artillery which Ensign Milne[277] showed him; thatofficer had mounted it one day before the siege when he was with adetail that he had ordered into the woods to get fuel for the post, anda band of Cherokees had descended upon him,—"a Quaker," he called it;you might have heard Colonel Montgomery laugh two hundred miles to FortLoudon, for of course it wouldn't fight,—a very powerful Friend,indeed,—only a black log mounted between two wheels, which the soldiershad been in the habit of using to ease up the loads of wood. But theIndians were deceived, and with their terror of artillery got out ofrange in short order, and the soldiers made their way back into the fortunder the protection of their "little Quaker."

When the barracks were lost in slumber, and the parade was deserted butfor the moon, and the soft wind, and the echo of the tramp of thesentry, Captain Stuart went over to Captain Demeré's house, and thereuntil late the two discussed the practicabilities, that each, like ablind trail, promised thoroughfare and led but to confusion. Theofficers did not dare to call for volunteers to carry dispatches toMontgomery, in the face of the fact that the express just arrived couldnot be prevailed on to return. Without, moreover, some assurance of thesafety of the messengers previously sent out, no man would now solightly venture his life as to seek to slip through the vigilant savagehordes.[278] To explain the terrors of the crisis to the garrison would beto have the ferocious Cherokees without, and panic, mutiny, and violencewithin. Yet a man must go; a man who would return; a man who would risktorture and death twice. "For we must have some assurance of thedelivery of our dispatches," Stuart argued. "I am anxious as to thehoming qualities of our dove that we are about to send out of this arkof ours," he said, as he lay stretched out at full length on the buffalorug on the floor, in the moonlight that fell so peacefully in at thewindow of his friend's bedroom. Demeré was recumbent on his narrowcamp-bed, so still, so silent, that more than once Stuart asked him ifhe slept.

"How can I sleep,—with this sense of responsibility?" Demeré returned,reproachfully.

But Stuart slept presently, waking once to reply to Demeré's remark thata married man would have the homing quality desired, the fort holdinghis family; Stuart declared that no one would be willing to leave wifeand children to such protection as other men might have presence of mindto give them in a desperate crisis. The mere communication might createa panic.

"Of all things," said Stuart, as he lay at his stalwart length, hislong, fair hair blowsing in the wind over the rug, "I am most afraid offear."[279]

When Demeré presently asked him if he were quite comfortable down there,his unceremonious presence placing him somewhat in the position ofguest, his silence answered for him, and he did not again speak or stiruntil the drums were sounding without and the troops were falling inline for roll-call.

Neither gave sign of their vigil; they both were exceedingly spruce, andfresh, and well set up, to sustain the covert scrutiny of the garrison,who regarded them as a sort of moral barometer of the situation, andsought to discern in their appearance the tenor of Montgomery's officialdispatches.

That morning, when Stuart went with his spy-glass to reconnoiter fromthe tower of one of the block-houses, he noted, always keenly observant,a trifle of confusion, as he entered, in the manner of thesentinel,—the smart, fair-haired, freckled-faced young soldier whoseservices were sometimes used as orderly, and whose name was Daniel Eske.The boy immediately sought to appear unconcerned. The officer asked noquestion. He raised the glass to his eye and in one moment discerned,amongst the laurel jungles close to the river, an Indian, a young girl,who suddenly lifted her arm and gracefully waved her hand toward thebastion. Stuart lowered the glass and gravely looked a grim inquiry atthe young soldier.[280]

Daniel Eske answered precipitately: "For God's sake, sir, don't let thisgo against me. I'm not holding any communication with the enemy,—thered devils. That baggage, sir, has been twice a-waving her hand to mewhen I have been on guard here. I never took no notice, so help meGod,—Captain,—I—"

The distance being minimized by the lens, Stuart could discern all thecoquettish details of the apparition; the garb of white dressed doeskin—a fabric as soft and flexible, the writers of that day tell us, as"velvet cloth"—the fringed borders of which were hung with shells andbits of tinkling metal; the hair, duly anointed, black and lustrous,dressed high on the head and decorated with small wings of the red bird;many strings of red beads dangled about the neck, and the moccasons werethose so highly valued by the Indians, painted an indelible red. With adefinite realization of the menace of treachery in her presence,Stuart's face was stern indeed as he looked at her. All at once hisexpression changed.

"Do as I bid you," he said to the sentry, suddenly remembering"Wing-of-the-Flying-Whip-poor-will," and her talk of the handsome youngorderly with his gold hair and freckles, and his gossip touching theScotchman's beautiful French wife, whom she regarded merely as acaptive. "Wait till she waves[281] again. But no,—she is going,—showyourself at the window,—must risk a shot now and then."

The loop-hole here attained the size of a small window, being commandedonly by the river, which would expose any marksman to a direct returnfire.

"Now, she sees you," exclaimed Stuart, as the young fellow's faceappeared in the aperture, gruff, sheepish, consciously punished andridiculous,—how could he dream of Stuart's scheme! "Take off your hat.Wave it to her. Wave it with a will, man! There,—she responds. Thatwill do." Then, with a change of tone, "I advise you, for your own good,to stay away from that window, for if any man in this garrison isdetected in engaging in sign language with the enemy he will certainlybe court-martialed and shot."

"Captain," protested the boy, with tears in his eyes, "I'd as lieve beshot now, sir, as to have you think I would hold any communication withthe enemy,—the warriors. As to that girl,—the forward hussy came thereherself. I took no notice of her waving her hand. I'd—"

But Captain Stuart was half down the ladder, and, despite young Eske'sred coat, and the fact that he smelled powder with more satisfactionthan perfume, and could hear bullets whizzing about his head withoutdodging, and had made forced marches without flinching, when he couldscarce bear his sore feet to[282] the ground, the tears in his eyesoverflowed upon the admired freckles on his cheek, and he shed them forthe imputation of Captain Stuart's warning as to communicating with theenemy.

That officer had forgotten him utterly, except as a factor in his plan.He sat so jocund and cheerful beside the table in the great hall thatOdalie, summoned thither, looked at him in surprise, thinking he musthave received some good news,—a theory corrected in another moment bythe downcast, remonstrant, doubtful expression on Demeré's face. He roseto offer her a chair, and Stuart, closing the door behind her, repliedto something he had already said:—

"Mrs. MacLeod," said Stuart deliberately, and growing very grave, as hesat opposite to her with one hand on the table, "we are trusting verydeeply to your courage and discretion when I tell you that our situationhere is very dangerous, and the prospect nearly desperate."

She looked at him silently in startled dismay. She thought of her own,of all that she loved. And for a moment her heart stood still.

"You know that all received methods, all military[283] usages, fail asapplied to Indian warfare. You can be of the greatest service to us inthis emergency. Will you volunteer?" There was a little smile at thecorner of Stuart's lip as he looked at her steadily.

"No," said Stuart, "when you agreed to the plan you expressly stipulatedthat you were to have no responsibility. Now if Mrs. MacLeod volunteersit is as a soldier and unquestioningly under orders."

"Would he allow you to risk yourself?" asked Stuart. "And yet it is foryourself, your husband, your child, the garrison,—to save all ourlives, God willing."

Odalie's color rose, her eyes grew bright. "I know I can trust you tomake the risk as slight as it may be,—to place me in no useless danger.I volunteer."

Then Captain Stuart broke out with his reassuring raillery. "I alwaysknew it,—such a proclivity for the military life! In the king's serviceat last."[284]

Stuart's next question she thought a bit of his fun. "Have you here," hesaid, with deep gravity, "some stout gown, fashioned with plaits andfullness in the skirt, and a cape or fichu,—is that what you callit,—about the shoulders? And, yes,—that large red hood, calash, thatyou wore the first day you arrived at the fort,"—his ready smileflickered,—"on an understanding so little pleasing to your taste. Goget them on, and meet me at the northwestern bastion."

The young soldier, Daniel Eske, still standing guard in the block-housetower, looked out on a scene without incident. The river shone in theclear June daylight; the woods were dark, and fresh with dew and deeplygreen, and so dense that they showed no token of broken boughs and rivenhole, results of the cannonade they had sustained, which still served tokeep at a distance, beyond the range of the guns, the beleagueringcordon of savages, and thus prevent surprise or storm. Neverthelessthere were occasional lurking Indians, spies, or stragglers from themain line, amongst the dense boughs of the blooming rhododendron; he sawfrom time to time skulking painted faces and feathers fluttering fromlordly scalp-locks, which rendered so much the more serious and probablethe imputation of com[285]municating with the enemy that the presence andgestures of Choo-qualee-qualoo, still lingering there, had contrived tothrow upon him. Her folly might have cost him his life. He might havebeen sentenced to be shot by his own comrades, discovered to be holdingcommunication with the enemy, and that enemy the Cherokees,—good sooth!

Suddenly rampant in his mind was a wild strange suspicion of treachery.His abrupt cry, "Halt, or I fire!" rang sharply on the air, and hismusket was thrust through the window, aiming in intimidation downalongside the parapet, where upon the exterior slope of the rampart thebeautiful Carolina girl, the French wife of the Scotch settler, hadcontrived to creep through the embrasure below the muzzle of the cannon,for the ground had sunk a trifle there with the weight of the piece orthrough some defect of the gabions that helped build up the "cheek," andshe now stood at full height on the berm, above the red clay slope ofthe scarp, signing to Choo-qualee-qualoo with one hand, and with theother motioning toward the muzzle of his firelock, mutely imploring himto desist.

How did she dare! The light tint of her gray gown rendered her distinctagainst the deep rich color of the red clay slope; her calash, of adifferent, denser red, was a mark for a rifle that clear day a long wayoff. He was acutely conscious of those[286] skulking braves in the woods,all mute and motionless now, watching with keen eyes the altercationwith the sentry, and he shuddered at her possible fate, even while, withan unrealized mental process, doubts arose of her loyalty to theinterests of the garrison, which her French extraction aided herstrange, suspicious demonstration to foster. He flushed with a violentrush of resentment when he became aware that Choo-qualee-qualoo wassigning to him also, with entreating gestures, and so keen-eyed had theIndian warfare rendered him that he perceived that she was prompted tothis action by a brave,—he half fancied him Willinawaugh,—who knelt inthe pawpaw bushes a short distance from the Cherokee girl and spoke toher ever and anon.

"One step further and I fire!" he called out to Odalie, flinchingnevertheless, as he looked down into her clear, hazel, upturned eyes.Then overwhelmed by a sense of responsibility he raised the weapon tofire into the air and lifted the first note of a wild hoarse cry for"Corporal of the guard,"—and suddenly heard O'Flynn's voice behindhim:—

"Sign to Mrs. MacLeod that she may go," said that officer, "but not forlong. Shake your head,—seem[287] doubtful. Then take your hat and wave itto the Cherokee wench, as if you relent for her sake!"

"Oh, sir,—I can't," exclaimed the young soldier even while he obeyed,expressing the revolt in his mind against the action of his muscles.

"It's mighty hard to kape the girls away from ye, but we will lend ye astick nex' time," said Corporal O'Flynn, in scornful ridicule of hisreluctance, not aware of the imputation of colloguing with the enemy towhich the long-range flirtation with Choo-qualee-qualoo had seemed toexpose him in Captain Stuart's mind.

Captain Stuart had placed in a loop-hole the muzzle of a firelock, whichhe sighted himself. O'Flynn leveled another, both men being of courseinvisible from without; as the young sentinel obeyed the order to openlylounge in the window and look toward Choo-qualee-qualoo he could seewithin the parapet that the gunners of the battery were standing totheir shotted pieces, Captain Demeré, himself, in command. With thisprovision against capture, or for revenge, one might fear, rather thanprotection, Odalie took her way down the steep slope amongst theimpeding stakes of the fraises, thickly sown, and looking, it mightseem, like dragons' teeth in process of sprouting. More than once shepaused and glanced up at the sentinel[288] leaning in the window with hisfirelock and entreated by signs his forbearance, which he seemed toaccord qualified, doubtful, and limited. She soon crossed the ditch, theglacis, so swift she was, so sure and free of step, and paused in theopen space beyond; then Choo-qualee-qualoo, too, began to advance.Better protected was the Cherokee girl, for she carried in her hand, andnow and again waved, laughingly, as if for jest, a white flag, a lengthof fluttering cambric and lace.

"By the howly poker!" exclaimed Corporal O'Flynn, beneath his breath,"that is the cravat of a man of quality,—some British officer of rank,belike."

He glanced with anxiety at Captain Stuart, whose every faculty seemedconcentrated on the matter in hand.

"The Cherokees know that a white flag is a sign which we respect, andthat that squaw is as safe with it as if she were the commandant of thepost. I only wish Mrs. MacLeod could have a like security." Thisaspiration had the effect of fastening O'Flynn's eye and mind to thesighting of his firelock and obliterating his speculations concerningthe cravat as spoil stripped from some slain officer of rank.

The two women met in the open space, with the rifles of how manykeen-sighted, capricious savages[289] leveled toward the spot Demeré hardlydared to think, as he watched Odalie in a sort of agony of terror thathe might have felt had she been a cherished sister. They stood talkingfor a time in the attitudes and the manner of their age, which was nearthe same, swinging a little apart now and then, and coming together withsuddenly renewed interest, and again, with free, casual gestures, andgraceful, unconstrained pose, they both laughed, and seemed to take acongenial pleasure in their meeting. They sat down for a time on a bitof grass,—the sward springing anew, since it was so little trodden inthese days, and with a richness that blood might have added to itsvigor. Odalie answered, with apparent unsuspiciousness, certain shrewdquestions concerning the armament of the fort, the store of ammunition,the quantity of provisions, the manner in which Stuart and Demerécontinued to bear themselves, the expectation held out to the garrisonof relief from any quarter,—questions which she was sure had neveroriginated in the brain of Choo-qualee-qualoo, but had been prompted bythe craft of Willinawaugh. Odalie, too, had been carefully prompted, andStuart's anticipatory answers were very definitely delivered, as of herown volition. Then they passed to casual chatting, to the presentationof a bauble which Odalie had brought, and which seemed to touchChoo-qualee-qualoo to the point[290] of detailing as gossip the fact thatthe attack on the white people had been intended to begin at MacLeodStation, Willinawaugh retaining so much resentment against the Scotchmanto whom he had granted safe-conduct, thinking him French, when he onlyhad a French squaw as a captive. Savanukah, who really spoke French, hadmade capital of it, and had rendered Willinawaugh's pretensionsridiculous in the eyes of the nation, for Willinawaugh had alwaysboasted, to Savanukah at least, that he understood French, although itwas beneath his dignity to speak it. This was done to reduce Savanukah'slinguistic achievements, and to put him in the position of a mereinterpreterof such people, when Savanukah was a great warrior, and yetcould speak many languages, like the famous Baron Des Johnnes. And whatwas there now at MacLeod Station? Nothing: stockade, houses, fields, allburnt! Great was the wrath of Willinawaugh!

This talk, however, was less to the taste of Choo-qualee-qualoo thanquestions and answers concerning the young sentinel, whom the Cherokeeshad namedSekakee, "the grasshopper," as he was so loquacious; sheoften paused to put the strings of red beads into her mouth, and to gazeaway at the glittering reaches of the river with large liquid eyes,sending now and then a glance at the window where that gruff youngperson leaned on his firelock.[291] Savanukah's wife saidSekakee must behungry, Choo-qualee-qualoo told Odalie. WasSekakee hungry? She wouldbring him some beans. Savanukah said they would all be hungry soon. Andthe fort would be the Indians', and there would be nobody in the landbut the Cherokees, and the French to carry on trade with them—wasOdalie not glad that she was French?—for there had been great fightingwith the English colonel's men, and Willinawaugh had told her to tellthe captains English both that fact: much blood did they shed of theirown blood, as red as their own red coats!

Odalie regarded this merely as an empty boast, the triumphs ofMontgomery's campaign rife this day in the garrison, but it made hertremble to listen. Nevertheless, she had the nerve to walk withChoo-qualee-qualoo almost to the water-side, near the shadowy covert ofthe dense woods. Nothing lurked there now,—no flickering feather, nofiercely gay painted face. Her confidence seemed the ally of theIndians. The French captive of the Carolina Scotchman would be to themlike a spy in the enemy's camp!

Perhaps the ordeal made the greater draughts on the courage of the menwho stood in the shelter of the works and sighted the guns. The tensiongrew so great as she lingered there in the shadows that cold drops stoodon Demeré's face,[292] and the hand with which Stuart held the firelocktrembled.

"It's a woman that can't get enough of anything," O'Flynn muttered tohimself. "I'll have the lockjaw in me lungs, for I'm gittin' so as Ican't move me chist to catch me breath."

But Odalie turned at last, and still signaling anxiously to the sentry,as if to implore silence and forbearance, she crossed the open spacewith her swift, swinging step, climbed the red clay slope among thespiked staves of the fraises, knelt down, slipped through the embrasure,and was lifted to her feet by Demeré, while the gunners stood by lookingon, and smiling and ready to cry over her.

Twice afterward, the same detail, all enjoined to secrecy, loaded theircannon, and stood with burning matches ready to fire at the word, whilethe maneuver was repeated; an interval of a day or so was allowed toelapse on each occasion, and the hour was variously chosen—when it waspossible for the French woman to escape, as Choo-qualee-qualoo was givento understand. Both times Demeré protested, although he had accorded theplan his countenance, urging the capricious temper of the Indians, whomight permit Mrs. MacLeod's exit from the fort one day, and the next,for a whim, or for revenge toward her husband, who had incurred theirspecial enmity for outwitting them on[293] his journey hither, shoot herthrough the heart as she stood on the crest of the counterscarp. And ofwhat avail then the shotted cannon, the firelocks in the loop-holes!

"You know they are for our own protection," he argued. "Otherwise wecould not endure to see the risk. The utmost we can do for her is toprevent capture, or if she is shot to take quick vengeance. Loading thecannon only savesour nerves."

"I admit it," declared Stuart,—"a species of military sal-volatile. Inever pretended to her that she was protected at all, or safe in anyway,—she volunteered for a duty of great hazard."

Demeré, although appreciating the inestimable value to the garrison ofthe opportunity, was relieved after the third occasion, when AlexanderMacLeod, by an accident, discovered the fact of these dangerous sortiesin the face of a savage enemy, no less capriciously wicked andmischievous than furious and blood-thirsty. His astonished rageprecluded speech for a moment, and the two officers found an opportunityto get him inside the great hall, and turning the key Stuart put it inhis pocket.

"Now, before you expend your wrath in words that we may all regret," hesaid, sternly, "you had best understand the situation. Your wife is nota woman to play the fool under any circumstances,[294] and for ourselves weare not in heart for practical jokes. Mr. MacLeod, we have here morethan three hundred mouths to feed daily, nearly three hundred the mouthsof hearty, hungry men, and we have exhausted our supply of corn and havein the smoke-house barely enough salted meat to sustain us for anotherfortnight. Then we shall begin to eat the few horses. We are so closelybeleaguered that it has proved impossible to get an express through thatcordon of savages to the country beyond. To communicate with ColonelMontgomery as early as practicable is the only hope of saving our lives.Mrs. MacLeod's sorties from the fort are a part of our scheme—theessential part. You may yet come to think the dearest boon that fatecould have given her would have been a ball through her brain as shestood on the escarp—so little her chances are worth!"

This plain disclosure staggered MacLeod. He had thought the place amplyvictualed. A rising doubt of the officers' capacity to manage thesituation showed in his face.

Stuart interpreted the expression. "You see,—the instant disaster issuggested you can't rely on us,—even you! And if that spirit wereabroad in the garrison and among the settlers, we should have a thousandschemes in progress, manipulated by people not so experienced as we, tosave themselves[295] first and—perhaps the others. The ammunition mightbe traded to the Cherokees for a promise of individual security. Thegates might be opened and the garrison delivered into the enemy's handsby two or three as the price of their own lives. Such a panic or mutinymight arise as would render a defense of the place impracticable, andthe fort be taken by storm and all put to the sword, or death bytorture. We are keeping our secret as well as we can, hoping for relieffrom Montgomery, and scheming to receive assurance of it. We asked Mrs.MacLeod's help, and she gave it!"

The logic of this appeal left MacLeod no reply. "How could you!" he onlyexclaimed, glancing reproachfully at his wife.

"That is what I have always said," cried Stuart, gayly, perceiving thatthe crisis was overpast. "Howcould she!"

There was no more that Odalie could do, and that fact partiallyreconciled the shuddering MacLeod to the past, although he felt he couldhardly face the ghastly front of the future. And he drew back wincinglyfrom the unfolding plans. As for Odalie, the next day she spent in herroom, the door barred, her hair tossed out of its wonted perfection ofarray, her dress disordered, her face and eyes swollen with weeping, andwhen she heard the great guns of the fort begin to send forth theirthunder,[296] and the heavy shot crashing among the boughs of the forestbeyond, she fell upon her knees, then rose, wild and agitated, springingto the door, yet no sooner letting down the bar than again replacing it,to fall anew upon her knees and rise once more, too distraught for theframing of a prayer.

Yet at this same moment Mrs. MacLeod, in her familiar gray serge gownand red calash, was seen, calm and decorous, walking slowly across theparade in the direction of the great hall of the northwest bastion. Thesoldiers who met her doffed their hats with looks of deep respect. Nowand again she bowed to a settler with her pretty, statelygrace,—somewhat too pronounced an elegance for the wife of so poor aman as MacLeod, it was thought, he being of less ornamental clay. Shehesitated at the door of the block-house, with a little air ofdiffidence, as might befit a lady breaking in upon the time of menpresumed to be officially busy. The door opened, and with a bow ofmingled dignity and deprecation she entered, and as the door closed,Hamish dropped the imitation of her manner, and bounded into the middleof the room with a great gush of boyish laughter, holding out both armsand crying, "Don't I look enticing! To see the fellows salaaming to thevery ground as I came across the parade!—what are you doing to myfrock, Captain[297] Demeré?" he broke off, suddenly. "It's just right.Odalie fixed it herself."

"Don't scuffle up these frills so," Captain Demeré objected. "Mrs.MacLeod is wont to wear her frock precisely."

"Did O'Flynn mistake you for Mrs. MacLeod?" asked Stuart, relishing thesituation despite his anxiety.

"I wish you could have seen the way he drew down that red Irish mouth ofhis," said Hamish, with a guffaw, "looking so genteel and pious!"

"I think it passes," said Demeré, who was not optimistic; but now he toowas smiling a little.

For the height of Odalie and Hamish was exactly the same—five feeteight inches. Hamish, destined to attain upward of six feet, had not yetall his growth. The full pleated skirt with the upper portion drawn upat the hips, and the cape about the shoulders, obviated the differencebetween Odalie's delicately rounded slenderness and Hamish's lankangularity. The cape of the calash, too, was thrown around the throatand about the chin and mouth, and as she was wont to hold her head downand look up at you from out the dusky red tunnel of its depths thedifference in the complexion and the expression of the hazel eyes ofeach was hardly to be noticed in passing. To speak would have beenfatal, but[298] Hamish had been charged not to speak. His chestnut curls,brushed into a glossy similarity, crept out and lay on the folds of thered cape of the calash with a verisimilitude that seemed almost profane.

Admonished by Stuart to have heed of long steps, and the dashing swingof his habitual gait, he was leaning on Sandy's arm, as they went out,in an imitation of Odalie's graceful manner. The young sentry, DanielEske,—no one else was permitted at these times to stand guard in thisblock-house tower,—noted this, with the usual maneuver of Mrs.MacLeod's escape through the embrasure, and he was filled with ire. Hehad fancied that her husband did not know of this recklessness, as hewas half inclined to think it, although evidently some fine-spun schemeof Captain Stuart's; it seemed especially futile this evening, so nearsunset, and the odd circumstance of the cannonade having sufficed toclear every Indian out of the forest and the range of the guns. Mrs.MacLeod could not speak to Choo-qualee-qualoo now, he argued withinhimself; the girl would not be there in the face of this hot fire! Howrapidly Mrs. MacLeod walked; only once she paused and glanced about heras if looking for the Cherokee girl,—what folly!—for with a flash offire and a puff of white smoke, and a great sweeping curve too swift tofollow with the[299] eye, each successive ball flew from the cannon's mouthover her head and into the woods beyond.

From the opposite bank of the river an Indian, crouched in the cleft ofa rock, yet consciously out of the range, watched her progress for onemoment, then suddenly set off at a swift pace, doubtless to fetch theyoung squaw, so that when the firing should cease she could ascertainfrom the French woman what the unusual demonstration of the cannonademight signify.

It was only for a moment that the sentry's attention was thus diverted,but when he looked again the gray gown, the red calash, the swiftlymoving figure had disappeared. The gunners had been ordered to ceasefiring, and the usual commotion of sponging out the bore, and reloadingthe guns, and replacing all the appliances of their service, wasinterrupted now and again by the men looking anxiously through theembrasure for Mrs. MacLeod's return. They presently called up an inquiryto the sentinel in the tower, presuming upon the utility of the secretservice to excuse this breach of discipline. "Why," said the soldier, "Itook my eye off her for one minute and she disappeared."

"You mean you shut your eyes for five minutes," said Corporal O'Flynn,gruffly, having just entered. "Captain Stuart told me that he himselfopened the little gate and let her in by the sally-port. And[300] there sheis now, all dressed out fresh again, walking with her husband on theparade under the trees. An' yonder is the Injun colleen,—got here toolate! Answer her, man, according to your orders."

Against his will the young sentinel leaned out of the window with amade-to-order smile, and as Choo-qualee-qualoo waved her hand andpointed to the empty path along which Odalie was wont to come, heintimated by signs that she had waited but was obliged to return to thefort and was now within, and he pointed down to the gorge of thebastion. To-morrow when there should be an eastern sky she would comeout, and Choo-qualee-qualoo signed that she would meet her. Then shelingered, waving her hand now and again on her own account, and hedutifully flourished his hat.

"Gosh," he exclaimed, "if treachery sticks in the gizzard like thispretense there is no use in cord or shot,—the fellow does for himself!"

He was glad when the lingering twilight slipped down at last and put anend to the long-range flirtation, for however alert an interest he mighthave developed, were it voluntary, its utility as a military maneuverblunted its zest. Choo-qualee-qualoo had sped away to her home up theriver; the stars were in the sky, and in broken glimmers reflected inthe ripples of the current. The head-men among the cordon, drawn aroundFort Loudon, sat in[301] circles and discussed the possible reasons of thesudden furious cannonade, and the others of minor tribal importancelistened and adjusted their own theories to the views advanced; the onlystragglers were the spies whom the cannonade had driven from the woodsthat afternoon, now venturing back into the neighborhood, looking at thelights of the fort, hearing often hilarious voices full of the triumphof Montgomery's foray, and sometimes finding on the ground the spentballs of the cannonade.

It had so cleared the nearer spaces that it had enabled Hamish, in aguise become familiar to them, to gain the little thicket whereChoo-qualee-qualoo and Odalie were wont to conclude their talks. Closeby was the mouth of the cavernous passage that led to MacLeod's Station,which no Indians knew the white people had discovered. With a suddenplunge the boy was lost to sight in its labyrinthine darkness, and whenHamish MacLeod emerged at the further end five miles away, in his owngarb, which he had worn beneath the prim feminine attire,—this he hadcarefully rolled into a bundle and stowed in a cleft in the rocks of theunderground passage,—he issued into a night as sweet, as lonely, and asstill, in that vast woodland, as if there were no wars or rumors of warsin all the earth. But, alas! for the sight of Odalie's home that she hadloved and made so happy, and where he had been as cher[302]ished as Fifineherself,—all grim, charred ashes; and poor Dill's cabin!—he knew bythis time that Dill was dead, very dead, or he would have come back tothem. The fields, too, that they had sown, and that none would reap,trampled and torn, and singed and burnt! Hamish gave but one sigh,bursting from an overcharged heart; then he was away at full speed inthe darkness that was good to him, and the only friend he had in theworld with the power to help him and his.

Captain Demeré that night was more truly cheerful than he had been for along time, despite his usual port of serene, although somewhat austere,dignity.

"The boy has all the homing qualities you desired in an express," hesaid to Stuart. "He will come back to his brother's family as certainlyas a man with wife and children, and yet in quitting them he leaves noduty to devolve on others."

"Moreover," said Stuart, "we have the satisfaction of knowing that hesafely reached the mouth of the underground passage without detection.He could not have found the place in a dark night. In the moonlight hewould have been seen, and even if we had protected his entrance by acannonade, and cleared the woods, his exit at the other end of thepassage would have been intercepted. Disguised as Mrs. MacLeod, seekingto meet Choo-[303]qualee-qualoo in bold daylight, he passed without asuspicion on the part of the Indians. And we know that the exit of thepassage at MacLeod Station is fully three miles in the rear of theIndian line. I feel sure that the other two expresses never got beyondthe Indian line. This is the best chance we have had."

Stuart could but laugh a little, remembering that Demeré had thought theplan impracticable, and, although there was no other opportunitypossible, had protested against it on the point of danger involved toMrs. MacLeod. Stuart, himself, had quaked on this score, and had seizedon this ingenious device only as a last resort.

The matter had been so sedulously guarded from the knowledge of thegarrison, save such share as was of necessity divulged to the men whofired the guns, the young sentinel, and Corporal O'Flynn,—and even theywere not aware that there had been a sortie of any other person thanMrs. MacLeod,—that Hamish's absence passed unnoticed for several days,and when it was announced that he had been smuggled out of the fort,charged with dispatches to Colonel Montgomery, no one dreamed ofidentifying him with the apparition in the gray[304] gown whom the gunnershad seen to issue forth and return no more. Even Corporal O'Flynnaccepted the statement, without suspicion, that Captain Stuart had letMrs. MacLeod in at the sally-port. These excursions, he imagined, wereto secure information from Choo-qualee-qualoo.

The announcement that an express was now on the way was made toencourage the men, for the daily ration had dwindled to a most meagerportion, and complaints were rife on every hand both among the soldieryand the families of the settlers. A wild, startled look appeared in manyeyes, as if some ghastly possibility had come within the range ofvision, undreamed-of before. The facts, however, that the commandant wasable to still maintain a connection beyond the line of blockadingCherokees, that Hamish had been gone for more than a week, that decisivedevelopments of some sort must shortly ensue, that the officersthemselves kept a cheerful countenance, served to stimulate an effort tosustain the suspense and the gnawing privation. Continual exertions weremade in this direction.

"I do, sor," returned O'Flynn, his cheek a trifle pale and sunken. "Ioffer meself to 'm as an example. I says to the guard only to-day, sor,says I,—'Now in affliction ye see the difference betune[305] a person ofquality, and a common spalpeen.' An' they wants to know who is thisperson of quality, sor. And I names meself, sor, being descended fromkings of Oirland. An', would ye belave me, sor, not one of thembog-trotting teagues but what was kings of Oirland, too, sor."

Corporal O'Flynn might have thought his superior officer needed cheeringtoo, for the twinkle in his eye had lost none of its alluring Celticquality.

The distressing element of internecine strife and bickerings waspresently added to the difficulties of the officers, who evidently faceda situation grievous enough in itself without these auxiliary troubles.Certain turbulent spirits opined loudly that they, the humbler people,had advantage taken of them,—that the officers' mess was served in aprofusion never abated, while the rest starved. Captain Stuart andCaptain Demeré would not notice this report, but the junior officerswere vehement in their protestations that they and their superiors hadhad from the beginning of the scarcity the identical rations served outto the others, and that their gluttony had not reduced the generalsupply. The quartermaster-sergeant confirmed this, yet who believed him,as Mrs. Halsing said, for he carried the keys and could favor whom hewould. That he did not favor himself was obvious from the fact that hisonce[306] red face had grown an ashen gray, and the cheeks hung in visiblecords and ligaments under the thrice-folded skin, the flesh betweenhaving gradually vanished. The African cook felt his honor so touched bythis aspersion on his master's methods that he carried his kettles andpans out into the center of the parade one day and there, ininsubordinate disregard of orders, cooked in public the scanty materialsof the officers' dinner. And having thus expressed his indignant rage hesat down on the ground among his kettles and pans and wept aloud in along lugubrious howl, thus giving vent to his grief, and requiring thekind offices of every friend he had in the fort to pacify him and inducehim to remove himself, his pans, and his kettles from this unseemlyconspicuousness.

At the height of the trouble, when Stuart and Demeré, themselves anxiousand nervous, and greatly reduced by the poor quality and scarcity offood, sat together and speculated on the problem of Montgomery'ssilence, and the continued absence of the express, and wondered how longthis state of things could be maintained, yearning for, yet fearing theend,—talking as they dared not talk to any human being but each to theother,—Ensign Whitson burst into the room with an excited face and thenews that there had been a fight over in the northeast bastion at thefurther side of the terrepleine.[307]

Whitson looked wild for one moment. "Oh, no, sir,—not that!—not that!Two Irishmen at fisticuffs,—about the Battle of the Boyne!—CorporalO'Flynn and a settler."

For the first time in a week Stuart laughed with genuine hilarity."Mighty well!" he exclaimed. "Let us settle the important questionsbetween the Irish Catholics and the Irish Protestants before we go astep further!"

But Demeré was writhing under the realization of a relaxed discipline,although when O'Flynn presented himself in response to summons he was socrest-fallen and woe-begone and reduced, that Demeré had not the heartto take summary measures with the half-famished boxer.

"O'Flynn," he said, "do you deem this a fitting time to set the exampleof broils between the settlers and soldiers? Truly, I think we need butthis to precipitate our ruin."

Stuart hastily checked the effect of this imprudent phrase by breakingin upon a statement of Corporal O'Flynn's, which seemed to represent hisright arm as in some sort a free agent, mechanically impelled throughthe air, the hand in a clinched[308] posture, in disastrous juxtapositionwith the skulls of other people, and that he was not thinking, and wouldnot have had it happen for nothing, and—

"Faith, sor," said the repentant O'Flynn, glad of the diversion, "hehits loike an Oirishman,—I don't think he is an impostor. My nose feelsrather limber."

O'Flynn having been of great service in the crisis, they were both gladto pass over his breach of discipline as lightly as they might; and hedoubtless reaped the benefit of their relief that the matter was lessserious than they had feared.

The next day, however, the expected happened. The unruly element, partlyof soldiers with a few of the settlers, broke into the smoke-house anddiscovered there what the commandant was sedulously trying toconceal,—nothing!

It stunned them for the moment. It tamed them. The more prudential soulsbegan now to fear the attitude of the officers, to turn to them, to relyagain upon their experience and capacity.

When the two captains came upon the scene, Demeré wearing the affronted,averse, dangerous aspect which he always bore upon any breach ofdiscipline, and Stuart his usual cool, off-hand look as if the matterdid not greatly concern him, they[309] listened in silence to the clamor ofexplanations and expostulations, of criminations and recriminationswhich greeted them. Only a single sentence was spoken by either ofthem,—a terse low-toned order. Upon the word, Corporal O'Flynn with asquad of soldiers rushed briskly into the crowd, and in less than twominutes the rioters were in irons.

"Jedburgh justice!" said Stuart aside to Demeré, as they took their wayback across the parade. "Hang 'em first, and try 'em afterward."

The bystanders might argue little from Demeré's reticent soldierlydignity, but Stuart's ringing laugh, as he spoke aside to his brotherofficer, his cheerful, buoyant, composed mien, restored confidence asnaught less than the sound of Montgomery's bugles outside the worksmight have done. Doubtless he was apprised of early relief. Surely hedid not look like a man who expected to live on horse-flesh in the midstof a mutinous garrison, with the wild savages outside, and within thatterrible strain upon the courage,—the contemplation of the sufferingsof non-combatants, the women and children, who had entered into nocovenant and received no compensation to endure the varying chances ofwar.

Yet this prospect seemed close upon him before that day was done. Theorderly routine had slipped again into its grooves. The hungry men,brisk, spruce, were going about their various military[310] duties with analacrity incongruous with their cadaverous aspect. The sentinels wereposted as usual, and Captain Stuart, repairing according to his wont toa post of observation in the block-house tower of the northwest bastion,turned his glass upon the country beyond, lowered it suddenly, lookingkeenly at the lens, as if he could not believe his eyes, and againlifted it. There was no mistake. On the opposite side of the river,looking like some gigantic monkey capering along on a pair of thin barelegs, was a stalwart Indian, arrayed for the upper part of his person ina fine scarlet coat, richly laced, evidently the spoil from some Britishofficer of high rank. Perhaps no apparition so grotesque ever sent achill to so stout a heart. Stuart was no prophet, quotha. But he couldsee the worst when it came and stared him in the eyes.

CHAPTER XI

Stuart and Demeré argued the matter in their secret conclaves. Bothadmitted that although Montgomery had had only four or five men killed,among them no officers, on his first expedition, he might have againtaken the field, and this was as they hoped. He was advancing; he mustbe near. The trophy of the fine red coat meant probably that he had lostan officer of value;—perhaps meant less—the personal disaster of thecapture of baggage or the necessity of throwing it away. Montgomery hadadvanced,—that was indubitable. Nevertheless,—and perhaps it was thelowering influence of the scanty fare on which they had so longsubsisted,—both officers dreaded the suspense less than the comingdisclosure.

Stuart felt all his nerves grow tense late one day in the red Julysunset, when there emerged from the copse of pawpaw bushes, close to theriver where Odalie had once been wont to repair to talk toChoo-qualee-qualoo, a tall form, arrayed in a gray gown, a trifleill-adjusted, with a big red calash drawn forward on the head, thatwalked at a somewhat slashing[312] gait across the open space toward theglacis. He thanked heaven that Mrs. MacLeod was ill in her bed, althoughhe had some twenty minutes ago been sending to her through her husbandexpressions of polite and heartfelt regret and sympathy.

"Why, I hardly thought Mrs. MacLeod was well enough to take a walk," heobserved to the sentry. Daniel Eske naturally supposed that Mrs. MacLeodhad slipped out before he had gone on duty, having just been sent to therelief of the previous sentinel. Stuart went down to the embrasure,assisted the supposed lady to her feet as she slipped through, andceremoniously offered her his arm as she was about to plunge down thesteep interior slope in a very boyish fashion. They found Demeré in thegreat hall, and both officers read the brief official dispatch withcountenances of dismay.

"This says that you can explain the details," said Demeré, with dry lipsand brightly gleaming eyes.

"Oh, yes," said Hamish. "All the time that I was at Fort Prince Georgethe commandant was writing letters to Governor Bull—for Lyttleton hasbeen appointed to Jamaica—and hustling off his expresses to SouthCarolina. He sent three, and said if he heard from none by return hewould send more."[313]

For this was the appalling fact that had fallen like athunderbolt,—Colonel Montgomery had with his command quitted thecountry and sailed for New York. His orders were to strike a sudden blowfor the relief of Carolina and return to head-quarters at Albany at theearliest possible moment. No word of the grievous straits of thegarrison of Fort Loudon had reached him. He had, indeed, advanced fromFort Prince George, which he had made the base of his aggressiveoperations against the Cherokees, but not for the relief of Fort Loudon,for neither he nor the commandant of Fort Prince George knew that thatpost was in danger. The overtures to the Cherokees for peace havingproved fruitless, Colonel Montgomery had sought to make peace by force.In pursuance of this further effort he pushed forward with great energyand spirit, but encountered throughout disasters so serious as tocripple his enterprise, culminating finally in a result equivalent to arepulse. The Indians, in the skulking methods peculiar to their warfare,harassed his march, hanging upon the flanks of the main body, and firingin detail from behind trees and rocks, from the depths of ravines andthe summits of hills of the broken, rugged wilderness. Never did theypresent any front that it was possible to charge and turn. Theadvance-guard, approaching through a narrow valley, the town of Etchoee,which the[314] Indians had abandoned, fell into an ambuscade of considerablestrength, and there he lost Captain Morrison of the Rangers, and ten ortwelve men who fell at the first fire. The vanguard, discouraged, beganto give way, when the light infantry and grenadiers were detached forits support. They succeeded in locating the chief strength of theCherokees sufficiently to drive the savages back, despite the disastrousresults of their scattered fire. The main body, coming up, encamped nearEtchoee, on a level space which proved, however, to be commanded byeminences in the vicinity. Thence the Indians poured destructive volleysinto the British ranks, and only after repeated charges the soldierssucceeded in dislodging them. Impetuously attacked on the flank, theCherokees suffered severely at the hands of the Royal Scots before beingable to get out of their reach. The terrible aspect of the paintedsavages, and their nerve-thrilling whoops with which the woodsresounded, failed also to affect the courage of the wild Highlanders,and all the troops fought with great ardor. But Colonel Montgomerydeemed it impossible to penetrate further through the wilderness,hampered as he was by seventy wounded men whom he could not leave to themercies of so savage an enemy, by the loss of many horses, by thenecessity—which was yet almost an impossibility—of carrying a train ofcattle and other provisions[315] with him in so rugged, trackless, andheavily wooded a region, and relinquished the attempt, thinking theterrible losses which the Indians had sustained would prove sufficientpunishment and dispose them to peace. He was even compelled to sacrificea considerable portion of his stores, throwing away bags of flour inlarge numbers in order to effect the release of the packhorses totransport his wounded. His dead he sunk heavily weighted into therivers, that the bodies might not be dragged from their graves andscalped by the Indians. His return march of sixty miles to Fort PrinceGeorge, which was accomplished with great regularity, was marked by thesame incidents that had characterized his advance,—the nettling fire ofthe masked enemy, the futile response, and the constant loss of men andhorses.

And so he was gone, and all the hopes that had clustered about hisadvance had gone with him! To Fort Loudon remained only two remotechances,—that Governor Bull of South Carolina might be able to act onthe belated information and send out an expedition of relief; yet thiswas to the last degree improbable, since the province, after its firstexpensive expedition against the Cherokees, had been compelled to appealfor its own protection to the British commander-in-chief, the militiabeing practically disabled by the ravages of smallpox. But[316] even at thebest could such an expedition reach them in time? The other possibilityof succor lay in Virginia, and it was obvious wisdom to embrace bothchances. Stuart knew that Demeré's quill, scraping over the paper, wasfashioning the appeal to the royal governor of that province, even whileHamish was still speaking, and he, himself, wrote supplemental lettersto other persons of note, that the news of their desolation, failing tocarry in one direction, might be spread in another.

"Now, Hamish," he said, smiling behind the candle as he held the wax init for the seal, "can you do as much again?"

Hamish's eyes stretched very wide. "You won't wait for Governor Bull?The officers at Fort Prince George said they would lay their lives thatGovernor Bull would respond."

"We must try Virginia, too. My boy, we are starving. To-morrow we beginto eat the horses,—then there may be a dog or two."

Stuart pushed him back into his chair, sternly giving him to understandthat the only possible hope of saving their lives was to get away as[317]quickly as might be with the dispatches for Virginia.

"We have not the time to spare. Besides, would they let you risk itagain, even for them?"

And Hamish was suddenly diverted to telling of his risks, of all theescapes, by flood and fell, that he had made;—how often he had beenshot at from ambush; how he had swum rivers; how he had repeatedlyhidden from the Indians by dropping himself down into the hollows oftrees, and once how nearly he had come to getting out no more, the placebeing so strait that he could scarcely use his constricted muscles toclimb up to the cavity that had let him in. He had not so much troubleon the return trip; Ensign Milne had procured for him a good horse, anda rifle—he had had a brace of pistols—the horse was a free goer—asfresh now as if he had not been a mile to-day.

"At MacLeod Station, hitched there with a good saddle on him andsaddle-bags half full of corn."

"Come, Hamish," said Stuart, rising, "you must be off; some Indian mightfind the horse."

Hamish's eyes filled with tears,—to leave Odalie[318] and Sandy without aword! He could not endure for the men to see these tears, although theythought none the less well of him for them.

"Let me drop a tear in farewell for Odalie," he said, trying to be veryfunny, brushing his right eye with his right hand. "And for Sandy," hisleft eye with his left hand. "And Fifine," his right eye with his righthand. "And the cat," his left eye with his left hand.

"Come, you zany!" exclaimed Stuart, affecting to think these tremulousfarewells very jocose.

"Yes," said Demeré, seriously, "we do not know how soon the Indians maydiscover our use of that passage,—up to this time it has been our onlyhope."

Hamish gathered up his calash, and the precise Demeré assisted him toadjust it and his disordered dress more after the manner in which Odaliewore it. Hamish, as directed, took Stuart's arm as they went out, hiseyes still full of tears, and for his life he could not control thetremor of emotion, not of fear, in the fibers of his hand, which he wassure the officer must note. But Stuart's attention was fixed on theskies. It was later than in those days when Odalie was wont to keeptryst with Choo-qualee-qualoo, now nearly a month ago. Still he[319] fanciedthat in the afterglow of the sunset the Indians might discern the colorand the style of the costume. Now and then a ball flew from the cannonto the woods, to clear the forest of too close observers,—whatever riskthere was must needs be dared. The cannoneers summoned to this queerduty looked at "Mrs. MacLeod" curiously, as she slipped through theembrasure and made her way with a swinging agility down the slopeamongst the fraises and then off through the gloaming at a fresh, firmpace. Then they gazed at Stuart, who presently bade them cease firing,and they had no excuse to wait to see her return. A queer move, theythought it, a very queer move!

Hope had grown so inelastic because of the taut tension to which itsfine fibers had been subjected, that Stuart felt a thrill of merelymechanical apprehension when the next day Daniel Eske, the youngsoldier, came in, desiring to make a special report to him. While onguard duty he had heard a deep subterranean explosion, which had beenreported to the officer of the day. Later, Choo-qualee-qualoo had come,waving her flag of truce, and after waiting vainly for Mrs. MacLeod, shehad ventured up the slope of the scarp, knowing full well that she wassafe under that white flag. She had brought a bag of beans, which shehad given him,—he bit his lip and colored with vexation,[320] consciouslyridiculous in speaking of his feminine admirer to his superiorofficer,—and he had taken the opportunity to ask some questions aboutaffairs outside the fort, upon which she detailed that an Indian—it wasSavanukah—had seen Mrs. MacLeod, as he thought, enter the subterraneanpassage that used to lead to MacLeod Station. At first he had consideredit a slight matter, since the Carolinian's French wife had come so oftento talk to Choo-qualee-qualoo. But it somehow flashed into his mind howthis woman had walked,—with what a long stride, with what strength, andhow fast! And suddenly he realized that it was a man, despite the fullskirts and flutterings of capes and calash. So Savanukah ran swiftly tohis boat and pulled down the river, and made MacLeod Station just intime to see a youth, arrayed in buckskins, issue from the cave and mounta tethered horse. Savanukah fired at him, but without effect, and theyoung man wheeled in his saddle and returned the fire with such accuracythat even at the distance and in the twilight the ball, although nearlyspent, struck Savanukah in the mouth with such force as to knock out atooth. Then the boy made off with a tremendous burst of speed. And thegray gown and the calash which the youth had worn were found inside thepassage. And great was the wrath of Willinawaugh! He[321] had blown up withpowder both ends of the passage,—like thunder,een-ta-quaros-ke,—use could no more be made of it. But some were sorry, wishingthe paleface to return by that way, so that he might be stabbed inthe dark windings of the passage. This was impossible now,Choo-qualee-qualoo said, for the spring had burst forth, forced in a newdirection, and was flooding all that part of the slope, flowing outsideinstead of within, and Willinawaugh could not now change its dispositionif he would.

Stuart breathed more freely. If Hamish should return alone, which Godforbid, and not with an armed force, the external changes wrought atMacLeod Station would preclude his effort to enter into the cavern, andforce him to devise some other method of approach. He wondered atWillinawaugh—to destroy so promising a trap! But rage may overpower attimes the most foxy craft.

The dull days, dragging on, seemed each interminable while thebeleaguered garrison watched the impassive horizon and awaiteddevelopments, and hoped against hope. The wonted routine came to beabridged of necessity; the men on their reduced fare were incapable ofdrill duty; the best hope was that they might make shift to stand totheir arms should a sudden attack require the exertion of all theirreserve force in the imminent peril of their[322] lives. The diet ofhorse-flesh proved not only unpalatable but insanitary, perhaps becausethe animals had thus far shared the physical distresses of the siege,and were in miserable plight, and there were as many men on the sicklist as the hospital could accommodate; this misfortune was mitigated toa degree when Choo-qualee-qualoo brought another bag of beans to thehero of the long-range flirtation, and he generously offered to sharethe food with his fellow-sufferers. Odalie suggested its devotion tohospital uses; and a few days of a certain potage which she compoundedof the beans and her economic French skill, and administered with herown hands to the invalids, with her own compassionate smiles, and with asauce of cheering words, put a number of the stouter fellows on theirfeet again.

The efforts to amuse and entertain had given way under the stress of amisery that could form no compact with mirth, but from time to time theofficers made short spirited addresses to the troops to animate andencourage their hope, and continue to the utmost their power ofresistance. And the exhalation of every sigh was with a thought of SouthCarolina, and the respiration of every breath was with a prayer towardVirginia.

As the number of horses had greatly diminished, and the discovery wasmade that certain lean dogs[323] had gone to the kitchen on an errand fardifferent from the one that used to lure them to the pots, about whichthey had been wont to greedily and piteously snuff and whine, thequiescent waiting and reliance on the judgment and the capacity of thecommandant to extricate the garrison from this perilous plight gave wayanew. Criticisms of the management grew rife. The return of HamishMacLeod, at the moment when starvation seemed imminent, and his instantdeparture at so great a peril, for the circumstances of his escape hadbeen learned by the soldiers from the confidences of Choo-qualee-qualooto young Eske, who was always free with his tongue, implied thatHamish's earlier mission had failed, and that no troops were now on themarch to their succor. They, too, had seen the capering Indian in thered coat of an officer of rank, the lace cravat of a man of qualitywhich Choo-qualee-qualoo flourished, and they deduced a shrewd surmiseof Montgomery's repulse. The men who had earliest revolted against thehardships now entertained rebellious sentiments and sought to fosterthem in others. Although, as ringleaders in the food riot, they had beensummarily placed in irons, their punishment had been too brief perhapsfor a salutary moral effect. Demeré's severity was alwaystheoretical,—a mental attitude one might say. The hardship of addingshackles to the agonies of[324] slow starvation so preyed upon his heartthat he had ordered the prisoners released before a sober reflection haddone its full work. The exemplary conduct, for a time, of the culpritshad no sufficient counterpart in chastened hearts, for they nourishedbitterness and secretly agitated mutiny.

The crisis came one morning when the meager supply of repulsive food hadshrunken to the scope of a few days' rations, the quantity alwaysdwindling in a regularly diminishing ratio; it had recently barelyenabled the men to sustain the usual guard duty, and they lay about theparade at other times, or at full length on the porches of the barracks,too feeble and dispirited to stir hand or foot without necessity.Corporal O'Flynn, one of the few officers fit for duty, with a shade ofpallor on his face a trifle more ghastly than that of starvation,reported that five men had failed to respond to roll-call, and uponinvestigation it was found that they had burrowed out of the fort in thedarkness, seeking to desert to the enemy, but their intentions beingmistaken, or their overtures scorned, they had been stabbed and scalpedat the edge of the forest, and there their bodies were visible in theearly rays of the sun.

"May become unpleasant when the wind shifts," remarked Stuart easily,and without emotion apparently, "but we are spared the duties ofpunishing deserters according to their deserts."[325]

Demeré's face had shown a sudden nervous contraction but resumed itsfixed reserved expression, and he said nothing.

Corporal O'Flynn's report, however, was not yet exhausted. He hesitated,almost choked. The blood rushed so scarlet to his face that one mighthave wondered, at the show it made, that he had so much of thatessential element in circulation in his whole thin body. He lifted hisvoice as if to urge the concentration of Stuart's attention which seemedso casual—he had it the next moment.

"I feel like a traitor in tellin' it, sor," said O'Flynn, "I'm just oneof the men meself, an' it breaks me heart intirely to go agin 'em withthe officers. But me duty as a soldier is to the commandant of the fort,an' as a man to the poor women an' childer."

He choked again, so reluctant was he in unfolding the fact that this wasbut the first step, providentially disastrous, of a plan by which thefort and the officers were to be abandoned, the rank and filedetermining to throw themselves on the mercy of the savages, since evento die at their hands was better than this long and futile waiting forsuccor. Through Choo-qualee-qualoo some negotiations with the enemy hadbeen set on foot, of which O'Flynn was unaware hitherto, being excludedfrom their councils as a non-commissioned officer, but after the result[326]of the desertion in the early hours before dawn, Daniel Eske, thoroughlydismayed, had once more reverted to his reliance on the superior wisdomof the commandant, and had seen fit to disclose the state of affairs tothe corporal, whose loyalty to his superior officers was always marked.

In this extremity a council of war was held. Yet there seemed no courseopen even to deliberation. On the one hand rose mutiny, starvation, anddesertion; but to surrender to such an enemy as the Cherokees meantmassacre. Their terrible fate held them in a remorseless clutch! Atlast, with some desperate hope, such as the unsubstantial illusion withwhich drowning men catch at straws, that the Indians might make and keepterms, it was agreed that Captain Stuart, at his earnest desire, shouldbe the officer to treat with the enemy and secure such terms ofcapitulation as they could be induced to hold forth.

It might be imagined that the little band of officers, in their hardstress, had become incapable of any further vivid emotion, but invicarious terror they watched Stuart step forth boldly and alone from[327]the sally-port, a white flag in his hand, and arrayed, in deference tothe Indians' love of ceremony and susceptibility to compliment, in fulluniform.

He stood on the parapet of the covered way, motionless and distinct, inthe clear light of the morning, against the background of the great redclay embankments. He was evidently seen, for through a spy-glass Demeréin the block-house tower noted the instant stillness that fell like aspell upon the Indian line; the figures of the warriors, crouching orerect, seemed petrified in the chance attitude of the moment. That hewas instantly recognized by skulking scouts in the woods was as evident.His tall, sinewy figure; his long, dense, blond hair, with its heavyqueue hanging on the shoulders of his red coat; a certain daring,martial insouciance of manner, sufficiently individualized him to thefar-sighted Cherokees, and the white flag in his hand—a token whichthey understood, although they did not always respect it—intimated thatdevelopments of moment in the conduct of the siege impended.

There was no sudden shrill whistling of a rifle ball, and Demeré,thinking of the fate of Coytmore on the river-bank at Fort PrinceGeorge, began to breathe more freely. A vague sense of renewedconfidence thrilled through the watching group. Stuart had stipulatedthat he should go alone—otherwise he would not make the essay. The[328]presence of two or three armed men, officers of the fort, intimatedsuspicion and fear, incurred danger, and yet, helpless among suchnumbers, afforded no protection. The others had yielded to thisargument, for he knew the Indian character by intuition, it would seem.He was relying now, too, upon a certain personal popularity. He hadsomehow engaged the admiration of the Indians, yet without disarmingtheir prejudice—a sort of inimical friendship. They all realized thatany other man would have now been lying dead on the glacis with a bulletthrough his brain, if but for the sheer temptation to pick him offneatly as a target of uncommon interest, whatever his mission might havebetokened.

How to accomplish this mission became a problem of an essentialsolution, and on the instant. Not a figure stirred of the distantCherokee braves; not one man would openly advance within range of thegreat guns that carried such terror to the Indian heart. Stuart stood inmomentary indecision, his head thrown back, his chin up, his keen,far-seeing gray-blue eyes fixed on the motionless Indian line. Throughthe heated August air the leaves of the trees seemed to quiver; theripples of the river scintillated in the sun; not a breath of windstirred; on the horizon the solidities of the Great Smoky Mountainsshimmered ethereal as a mirage.

Suddenly Stuart was running, lightly, yet at no[329] great speed; he reachedthe river-bank, thrust a boat out from the gravel, and with the flag oftruce waving from the prow he pushed off from the shore, and began torow with long, steady strokes straight up the river. He was going toChoté!

The observers at Fort Loudon, petrified, stared at one another in blankamazement. The observers at the Cherokee camp were freed from theirspell. The whole line seemed in motion. All along the river-bank thebraves were speeding, keeping abreast of the swift little craft in themiddle of the stream. The clamors of the guttural voices with theirunintelligible exclamations came across the water.

It was like the passing of a flight of swallows. In less than fiveminutes the boat, distinctly visible, with those salient points ofcolor, the red coat and the white flag against the silver-gray water,had rounded the bend; every Indian runner was out of sight; and the lineof warriors had relapsed into their silent staring at the fort, wherethe garrison dragged out three hours of such poignant suspense as seldomfalls to the lot of even unhappy men.

The sun's rays deepened their intensity; the exhausted, half-famishedsentries dripped with perspiration, the effects of extreme weakness aswell as of the heat, as they stood shouldering their firelocks[330] andanxiously watching from the loop-holes of the block-house towers, theroofs of which, blistering in the sun, smelled of the wood in a close,breathless, suffocating odor which their nerves, grown sensitive bysuffering, discriminated like a pain. The men off duty lay in the shadowof the block-houses, for the rows of trees had vanished to furnish fuelfor the kitchen, or on the porches of the barracks, and panted likelizards; the officers looked at one another with the significance ofsilent despair, and believed Stuart distraught. Demeré could not forgivehimself that he had been persuaded to agree that Stuart should appear.Beyond the out-works, however, they had had no dream of his adventuring.To try the effect of a personal appearance and invitation to aconference was the extent of the maneuver as it was planned. There wasscant expectation in Fort Loudon that he would be again seen alive.

When the tension of the sun began to slacken and the heat to abate; whenthe wind vaguely flapped the folds of the flag with a drowsing murmur,as if from out of sleep; when the chirr of the cicada from the woodsgrew vibratory and strident, suggestive of the passing of the day'smeridian, and heralding the long, drowsy lengths of the afternoon tocome, the little boat, with that bright touch of scarlet, shot out frombehind the wooded bend of the river, and in a few minutes was beached onthe[331] gravel and Stuart was within the gates of Fort Loudon.

He came with a face of angry, puzzled excitement that surprised hisbrother officers, whose discrimination may have been blunted in the joyof his safe and unexpected return and the fair promises of the terms ofcapitulation he had secured. Never had a vanquished enemy been moreconsiderately and cordially entreated than he at Choté. Oconostota andCunigacatgoah had come down to the river-bank on the news of hisapproach and had welcomed him like a brother. To the great council-hallhe was taken, and not one word would Oconostota hear of his mission tillfood was placed before him,—fish and fowl, bread, and a flask of wine!

"And when Oconostota saw that I had been so nearly starved that I couldhardly eat—Lord!—how his eyes twinkled!" cried Stuart, angrily.

But Oconostota had permitted himself to comment on the fact. He saidthat it had grieved him to know of the sufferings from famine of hisbrother and the garrison—for were they not all the children of the sameGreat Father! But Captain Stuart must have heard of the hideousiniquities perpetrated by the British Colonel in burning the Cherokeetowns in the southern region, where many of the inhabitants perished inthe flames, and[332] slaying their warriors who did naught but defend theirown land from the invaders—the land which the Great Spirit had given tothe Cherokees, and which was theirs. And, now that the terrible ColonelMontgomery had been driven out with his hordes, still reeking withCherokee blood, it was but fit that the Cherokees should take possessionof Fort Loudon, which was always theirs, built for them at theirrequest, and paid for with their blood, shed in the English service,against the enemies of the English colonists, the French, who had alwaysdealt fairly with the Cherokees.

Captain Stuart bluntly replied that it did not become him to listen toreflections upon the methods in which British commanders had seen fit tocarry out the instructions of the British government. They had,doubtless, acted according to their orders, as was their duty. For hisown mission, although Fort Loudon could be held some space longer, inwhich time reënforcements, which he had reason to think were on themarch, might come to its relief, the officers had agreed that thesufferings of the garrison were such that they were not justified inprolonging their distress, provided such terms of capitulation could behad as would warrant the surrender of the fort.

As the interpreter, with the wooden voice, standing behind the chief,gabbled out this rebuke of the[333] Cherokee king's aspersions onMontgomery, Stuart's ever quick eye noted an expression on the man'sface, habitually so blank and wooden,—he remembered it afterward,—anexpression almost applausive. Then his attention was concentrated on thecircumlocutions of Oconostota, who, in winding phrase almostaffectionate, intimated the tender truth that, without waiting for thesereënforcements, the enfeebled garrison could be overpowered now anddestroyed to the last man by a brisk onslaught, the Cherokees taking theplace by storm.

"Not so long as the great guns bark," he declared. "They are the dogs ofwar that make the havoc."

Then Oconostota, with that greed of the warlike Cherokee for the detailsconcerning this great arm of the British service, the artillery, alwayscoveted by the Indians, yet hardly understood, listened to a descriptionof the process by which these guns could be rendered useless in a fewminutes by a despairing garrison.

Their cannoneers could spike them after firing the last round. And ofwhat value would the fort be to the Cherokees without them,—it would bemere intrenchments with a few dead men,—the most useless things underthe sun. The English[334] government would bring new guns, and level theworks in a single day. The great chief knew the power of England. In thedays when Moy Toy sent his delegation to London, of which he andAtta-Kulla-Kulla were members, to visit King George, they had seen themyriads of people and had heard many great guns fired in salute to theprincely guests, and had assisted at the review of thousands andthousands of soldiers.

And with the reminder of all these overpowering military splendors ofhis great enemy, Oconostota began to feel that he would be glad tosecure possession of these few of King George's great guns uninjured,fit to bark, and, if occasion should offer, to bite.

From that point the negotiation took a stable footing. With many acrafty recurrence on the part of Stuart to the coveted artillery atevery balking doubt or denial, it was agreed that the stronghold shouldbe evacuated;—"That the garrison of Fort Loudon march out with theirarms and drums, each soldier having as much powder and ball as theirofficer shall think necessary for their march, and all the baggage theymay chuse to carry: That the garrison be permitted to march to Virginiaor Fort Prince George, as the commanding officer shall think proper,unmolested; and that a number of Indians be appointed to escort them[335]and hunt for provisions during their march: That such soldiers as arelame or by sickness disabled from marching, be received into the Indiantowns and kindly used until they recover, and then be allowed to returnto Fort Prince George: That the Indians do provide for the garrison asmany horses as they conveniently can for their march, agreeing with theofficers and soldiers for payment: That the fort, great guns, powder,ball, and spare arms, be delivered to the Indians without fraud orfurther delay on the day appointed for the march of the troops."

These terms of capitulation were signed by Paul Demeré, Oconostota, andCunigacatgoah, and great was the joy the news awoke among the garrisonof Fort Loudon. The sick arose from their beds; the lame walked, andwere ready to march; almost immediately, in the open space beneath theterrible great guns, were men,—settlers, soldiers, and Indians,—tryingthe paces of horses, and chaffering over the terms of sale. Provisionswere brought in; every chimney sent up a savory reek. Women were gettingtogether their little store of valuables in small compass for thejourney. Children, recently good from feeble incapacity to be otherwise,were now healthily bad, fortified by a generous meal or two. And Fifinewas stroking the cat's humped back, as the animal munched upon theground bits[336] of meat thrown prodigally away, and telling her that nowshe would not be eaten,—so had that terror preyed upon the motherlybaby heart! Odalie had some smiling tears to shed for Hamish's sake, inthe earnest hope that he might be as well off, and those whom she hadconsoled in affliction now in their prosperity sought to console her.The officers were hilarious. They could hardly credit their own goodfortune—permitted to surrender Fort Loudon, after its gallant defenseto the last extremity, to the savage Cherokees, upon just such terms aswould have been dictated by a liberal and civilized enemy! Demeré, afterthe first burst of reproach that Stuart should have so recklesslyendangered himself, and of joy that his mission had been so successfullyaccomplished, was cheerfully absorbed in destroying such official papersas, falling into the hands of the French, might be detrimental to theBritish interest. Of them all, only Stuart was doubtful, angry,disconsolate. Perhaps because some fiber of sensitive pride, burieddeep, had been touched to the quick by Oconostota's ill-disguisedtriumph; or he realized that he had labored long here, and suffered muchuselessly, and but for the threatened desertion of the garrison feltthat the fort might still be held till relief could reach it; or he wasof the temperament that adorns success, or even stalwart effort, but isblighted by[337] failure; or he was only staggered by the completeness ofhis prosperous negotiations with the Cherokees and doubtful of theirgood faith,—at all events he had lost his poise. He was gloomy,ruminative, and broke out now and again with futile manifestations ofhis disaffection.

Demeré, burning letter-books and other papers on the hearth of the greatchimney-place of the hall, looked up from the table where he sorted themto remind Stuart, as he strode moodily to and fro, not to leave thingsof value to fall into the hands of the enemy. Stuart paused for a momentwith a gloomy face. Then, "They shall not have this," he said angrily.The little red silk riding-mask, that was wont to look down from thewall, null and inexpressive, with no suggestion in its vacant, sightlessorbs of the brightness of vanished eyes, with no faint trace of the fairface that it had once sheltered, save as memory might fill the blankcontour, began to blaze humbly as he thrust it among the burning paperson the hearth. An odd interpretation of things of value, certainly—aflimsy memento of some bright day, long ago, and far away, when, not allunwelcome, he had ridden at a lady's bridle-rein. Demeré looked at himwith sudden interest, seemed about to speak, checked himself and saidnothing. And thus with this souvenir the romance of Stuart's lifeperished unstoried.[338]

More characteristic thoughts possessed him later. He came to Demeré'sbedside that night as he lay sleeping in quiet peace, even his somnolentnerves realizing the prospect of release. Stuart roused him with a newanxiety. There was a very considerable quantity of powder in the fort,far more than the Indians, unacquainted with the large charges requiredfor cannon, suspected that they possessed. By surrendering this greatsupply of powder, Stuart argued, as well as the guns, they onlypostponed not precluded their destruction. Brought down with the guns toFort Prince George in the hands of French cannoneers, this ample supplyof artillery would easily level those works with the ground. The Frenchofficers, who they had reason to suspect were lurking in the LowerTowns, would be unlikely to have otherwise so large a store ofammunition in reach, capable of maintaining a siege, and before thiscould be procured for the service of the surrendered cannon somereënforcements to the commandant of Fort Prince George would arrive, oran aggressive expedition be sent out from South Carolina.

"At all events this quantity of powder in the hands of the Cherokeesmakes it certain that a siege of Fort Prince George will follow close onthe fall of Fort Loudon," Stuart declared.

Demeré raised himself on his elbow to gaze at[339] Stuart by the light ofthe flickering candle which the visitor held in his hand.

"I am afraid that you are right," Demeré said, after a grave pause. "Buthow can we help it?"

Stuart evidently struggled with himself. "If these fiends," heexclaimed,—the triumph of Oconostota had gone very hard withhim,—"were like any other enemy we could afford to run the chance. Buthave we the right to submit the commandant of Fort Prince George and hisgarrison—to say nothing of ourselves and our garrison, hampered as weare with women and children, taking refuge with him,—to the risk ofsiege and massacre, fire and torture, compassed by materials practicallyfurnished by us,—on a delicate question of military ethics?"

"If we do not keep our word, how can we expect Oconostota to keep hisword?" asked Demeré.

Once more Stuart hesitated, then suddenly decided. "But if you havescruples"—he broke off with a shrug of the shoulders. "I should leaveOconostota enough powder to amuse him with the guns for a[340] while, butnot enough to undertake a siege. The government will surely occupy thisplace again. I expect to find the powder here when I come back to FortLoudon."

His words were prophetic, although neither knew it. He cast a hastyglance at Demeré, who again objected, and Stuart went out of the doorsaying nothing further, the draught flickering, then extinguishing, theflame of the candle in his hand.

It was very dark about midnight when the whole place lay locked inslumber. The sentries, watchful as ever in the block-house towers and atthe chained and barred gates, noted now and again shadowy figures aboutthe region of the southeast bastion,—the old exhausted smoke-house hadbeen in that locality,—and thence suppressed voices soundedoccasionally in low-toned, earnest talk. No light showed save inglimpses for a while through the crevices in the walls of the buildingitself, and once or twice when the door opened and was suddenly shut.There Corporal O'Flynn and three soldiers and Captain Stuart himself,armed with mattocks, dug a deep trench in the tough red clay, carefullydrawing to one side the dead ashes and cinders left by the fires of hisearnest preparations against the siege. Then the lights wereextinguished, and from the great traverse, in which was the powdermagazine, they brought ten heavy bags of powder,[341] and laid them in thetrench, covering them over with the utmost caution, lest a mattockstrike a spark from a stone here and there in the earth. At last, stillobserving great care, they tramped the clay hard and level as a floor,and spread again the ashes and cinders over the upturned ground, layingthe chunks of wood together, as they had burnt half out after the lastfire many weeks ago.

When Captain Stuart inveigled Captain Demeré thither the next morning,on some pretext concerning the removal of the troops, he was relieved tosee that although Demeré was most familiar with the place he had noteven the vaguest suspicion of what lay under his feet, for this was thebest test as to whether the work had been well done. It was only at themoment of departure, of rendering up the spare arms, and serving outammunition to the soldiers for the journey, that he was made aware howmysteriously the warlike stores had shrunken, but Oconostota's beadlikeeyes glistened with rapture upon attaining the key of the magazine withits hoard of explosives, unwitting that it had ever contained more.

The soldiers went out of the gates in column, in heavy marching order,their flags and uniforms making a very pretty show for the last time onthe broad open spaces about Fort Loudon. For the last time the craggybanks and heavily wooded hills of the[342] Tennessee River echoed to thebeat of the British drums. Behind, like a train of gypsies, were thehorses purchased from the Indians, on which were mounted the women andlittle girls, with here and there a sick soldier, unable to keep hisplace in the ranks and guyed by his comrades with reviving jollity, inthe face of hope and freedom, as "a squaw-man." The more active of thechildren, boys chiefly, ran alongside, and next in order came thesettlers, now in column as "fencibles," and again one or two quittingthe ranks to cuff into his proper place some irrepressible youngsterdisposed to wander. In the rear were the Indian safe-guards through theCherokee nation, with their firelocks and feathers and scanty attirethat suggested comfort this hot day. For the August sun shone from a skyof cloudless blue; a wind warm but fresh met them going the other way;the dew was soon dried and the temperature rose; the mountains glimmeredethereally azure toward the east with a silver haze amongst the domesand peaks, and toward the west they showed deeply and densely purple, asthe summit lines stretched endlessly in long parallel levels.

And so these pioneers and the soldiers set forth on their way out of theland that is now Tennessee, to return no more; wending down among thesun-flooded cane-brakes, and anon following the trail[343] through thedense, dark, grateful shades of the primeval woods. So they went toreturn no more,—not even in the flickering guise of spectral visitantsto the scenes that knew them once,—scarcely as a vague and vagrantmemory in the country where they first planted the home that cost themso dearly and that gave them but little.

Nevertheless, a hearty farewell it bestowed this morning,—for they sangpresently as they went, so light and blithe of heart they were, and thecrags and the hills, and the rocky banks of that lovely river, all criedout to them in varying tones of sweet echoes, and ever and again theboom of the drums beat the time.

CHAPTER XII

The definite ranks were soon broken; the soldiers marched at ease in andout amongst the Indians and the settlers, all in high good humor; jestand raillery were on every side. They ate their dinner, still on themarch, the provisions for the purpose having been cooked with themorning meal. Thus they were enabled, despite the retarding presence ofthe women and children, and the enfeebling effects of the long siege, tomake the progress of between fifteen and twenty miles that day. Theyencamped on a little plain near the Indian town of Taliquo. There, thesupper having been cooked and eaten—a substantial meal of game shotduring the day's march—and the shades of night descending thick in thesurrounding woods, Captain Stuart observed the inexplicable phenomenonthat every one of their Indian guards had suddenly deserted them.

The fact, however contemplated, boded no good. The officers, doubtlesskeenly sensitive to the renewal of anxiety after so slight a surcease ofthe sufferings of suspense, braced themselves to meet[345] the emergency. Apicket line was thrown out; sentinels were posted in the expectation ofsome imminent and startling development; the soldiers were ordered tosleep on their arms, to be in readiness for defense as well as to gainstrength for the morrow's march and rest from the fatigues of the day.The little gypsy-looking groups of women and children, too, were soonhushed, and naught was left the anxious senior officers but to sleep ifthey might, or in default, as they lay upon the ground, to watch thegreat constellations come over the verge of the gigantic trees at theeast of the open space, and deploy with infinite brilliance across theparade of the sky, and in glittering alignment pass over the verge ofthe western woods and out of sight. So came the great Archer, lettingfly myriads of arrows of flakes of light in the stream near the camp. Socame in slow, gliding majesty the Swan, with all the splendor of theGalaxy, like infinite unfoldings of white wings, in her wake. So camethe Scorpio, with coil on coil of sidereal scintillations, and here andagain the out-thrust dartings of a malign red star. And at last so camethe morn.

Demeré, who had placed himself, wrapped in his military cloak, on theground near Stuart, that they might quietly speak together in the nightwithout alarming the little camp with the idea of precautions and dangerand plotting and planning, noted first a[346] roseate lace-like scrollunrolled upon the zenith amidst the vague, pervasive, gray suggestionsof dawn. He turned his head and looked at his friend with a smile ofbanter as if to upbraid their fears;—for here was the day, and thenight was past!

A sudden wild clamor smote upon the morning quiet. The outposts wererushing in with the cry that the woods on every side were full ofCherokees, with their faces painted, and swinging their tomahawks; thenext moment the air resounded with the hideous din of the war-whoop.Demeré's voice rose above the tumult, calling to the men to fall in andstand to their arms. A volley of musketry poured in upon the little campfrom every side.

Demeré fell at the first fire with three other officers and twenty-sevensoldiers. Again and again, from the unseen enemy masked by the forest,the women and children, the humble beasts of burden,—fleeing wildlyfrom side to side of the space,—the soldiers and the backwoodsmen, allreceived this fusillade. The men had been hastily formed into a squareand from each front fired volleys as best they might, unable to judge ofthe effect and conscious of the futility of their effort, surrounded asthey were on every side. Now and again a few, impelled by despair, madea wild break for liberty, unrestrained by the officers who gave themwhat chance they might secure, and with five or six exceptions[347] thesewere shot down by the Indians after reaching the woods. The devotedremnant, fighting until the last round of ammunition was exhausted, weretaken prisoners by the triumphant savages. Stuart, his face covered withblood and his sword dripping, was pinioned before he could be disarmed,and then helpless, hopeless, with what feelings one may hardly imagine,he was constrained to set forth with his captor on the return march toFort Loudon.

The Cherokees could hardly restrain their joy in thus taking him alive.So far-famed had he become among them, so high did they esteem hismilitary rank, so autocratic seemed his power in the great stronghold ofFort Loudon, with his red-coated soldiers about him, obeying his words,even saluting his casual presence, that it afforded the most æstheticzest of revenge, the most acute realization of triumph, to contemplatehim as he stood bound, bloody, bareheaded in the sun, while the verymeanest of the lowest grade of the tribesmen were free to gather roundhim with gibes and menacing taunts and buffets of derision. His hat hadbeen snatched off in order to smite him with it in the face; his hair,always of special interest to the Indians because of its light browncolor and dense growth, was again and again caught by its thick, fairplait with howls of delight, and if the grasp of the hand unaided couldhave rent the scalp from[348] the head, those fierce derisive jerks wouldhave compassed the feat; more than one whose rage against him was not tobe gratified by these malevolently jocose manifestations of contempt,gave him such heavy and repeated blows over the head with the butt oftheir firelocks that they were near clubbing the prisoner to death, whenthis circumstance attracted the attention of his captor, Willinawaugh,who was fain to interfere. Stuart, regretting the intervention, realizedthat he was reserved to make sport for their betters in the fiercer andmore dramatic agonies of the torture and the stake.

His fortitude might well have tempted them. In a sort of stoical pridehe would not wince. Never did he cry out. He hardly staggered beneaththe crushing blows of the muskets, delivered short hand and at closequarters, that one might have thought would have fractured his skull.That the interposition of Willinawaugh was not of the dictates ofclemency might be inferred from the manner in which the return journeywas accomplished. Forced to keep pace with his captor on horsebackStuart traveled the distance from Taliquo Town to Old Fort Loudon indouble-quick time, bareheaded, pinioned, in the blazing meridian heat ofa sultry August day. He hoped he would die of exhaustion. In thelong-continued siege of Fort Loudon, necessitating much indoor life, towhich he was little[349] used, the texture of his skin had become delicateand tender, and now blistered and burned as if under the touch of actualcautery. With the previous inaction and the unaccustomed exposure theheat suggested the possibility of sunstroke to offer a prospect ofrelease.

But he came at last to the great gates of Fort Loudon with no moreimmediate hurt than a biting grief deep in his heart, the stinging painof cuts and bruises about his head and face, and a splitting, throbbing,blinding headache. Not so blinding that he did not see every detail ofthe profane occupancy of the place on which so long he had expended allhis thought and every care, in the defense of which he had cheerfullystarved, and would with hearty good-will have died. All the precisemilitary decorum that characterized it had vanished in one short day.Garbage, filth, bones, broken bits of food lay about the parade, thatwas wont to be so carefully swept, with various litter from the plunderof the officers' quarters, for owing to the limited opportunity oftransportation much baggage had been left. This was still in progress,as might be judged from the figures of women and men seen through theopen doors and now again on the galleries, chaffering and bargainingover some trifle in process of sale or exchange. Indian children racedin and out of the white-washed interiors of the[350] barracks which had beenglaringly clean; already the spring branch was choked by various débrisand, thus dammed, was overflowing its rocky precincts to convert theundulating ground about it into a slimy marsh. Myriads of flies haddescended upon the place. Here and there horses were tethered and cowsroamed aimlessly. Idle savages lay sprawling about over the ground,sleeping in the shade. In the block-houses and towers and along theparade, where other braves shouldered the firelocks, the surrenderedspare arms, mimicking the drill of the soldiers with derisive cries of"PlesentAhms!" "ShouldieFa'lock!" "GroundFa'lock!" only suchinjury as bootless folly might compass was to be deplored, but upon theterrepleine in the northeast bastion several Cherokees were working atone of the great cannons, among whom was no less a personage thanOconostota himself, striving to master the secrets of its service. Thebox of gunner's implements was open, and Stuart with a touch ofreturning professional consciousness wondered with that contempt forignorance characteristic of the expert what wise project they had inprogress now. For the gun had just been charged, but with that economyof powder, the most precious commodity in these far-away wilds, forwhich the Indians were always noted. The ball, skipping languidly out,had dropped down the embankment outside and rolled along the ground[351]with hardly more force than if impelled down an alley by a passableplayer at bowls, barely reaching the glacis before coming to a fullhalt. Realizing the difficulty, the gun under the king's directions wasshotted anew; erring now in the opposite extreme, it was charged soheavily that, perhaps from some weakness in the casting, or the failureto duly sponge and clean the bore, or simply from the expansive force ofthe inordinate quantity of powder, the piece exploded, killing two ofthe savages, serving as gunners, and wounding a third. The ball, for thecannon had been improperly pointed by some mischance, struck the side ofthe nearest block-house, and as its projectile force was partly spent bythe explosion, the tough wood turned it; it ricochetted across the wholeexpanse of the enclosure, striking and killing an Indian lying asleep onthe opposite rampart. A vast uproar ensued, and Stuart could havelaughed aloud in bitter mirth to see Oconostota almost stunned alike bythe surprise and the force of the concussion, timorously and dubiouslyeying the wreck. Then, with a subdued air of renunciation and finality,"Old Hop," as the soldiers called him, came limping carefully down thesteep ramp from the terrepleine, evidently just enlightened as to thedangers lurking about the breech of the cannon, well as he had long beenacquainted with the menace of[352] its muzzle. The fury of the savages boresome similarity to the ricochet forces of the misdirected cannon-ball.Stuart plainly perceived himself destined to bear the brunt of theinfuriating mishap in which, although he had no agency, he might besuspected of taking secret and extreme delight. It was for a moment areversal of the red man's supremacy in the arts of war, that had beendemonstrated by the results of the siege, the acquisition of theordnance, the surprise and the massacre of the capitulated garrison. Inthe stress of the noisy moment, when the corpses had been carried offand the howling women and their friends had followed them to theirassigned homes in the barracks, several braves, including Oconostotahimself, had become aware of Stuart's return and gathered around him.

Nothing could have been more acutely malevolent than Oconostota'stwinkling eyes; no words could have shown a keener edge of sarcasm thanhis greeting of the officer once more by the title of his dear brother.Stuart, impolitic for once, disdained to respond, and, grimly silent,eyed him with a sort of stoical defiance that struck the Indian'smummery dumb. There was a moment of inaction as they all contemplatedhim. His vigor, his fortitude, his rank, the consciousness how his proudspirit raged in his defeat and despair, all combined to render him anotable victim and[353] promised a long and a keen extension of thepleasures of witnessing his torture.

And at that instant of crisis, as if to seal his doom, a great gutturalclamor arose about the southeast bastion, and here was Willinawaugh,with wild turbulent gesticulations, and starting gleaming eyes, and aglancing upheaving tomahawk, for in the perspective a dozen hale fellowswere dragging out of the pit beneath the old smoke-house the ten bags ofpowder that Stuart had concealed there—only two nights ago, was it?—itseemed a century! How had they the craft to find them, so securely, soimpenetrably were they hidden! Stuart's store of Cherokee enabled him togather the drift of the excited talk. One of the Indians, with the keennatural senses of the savage, had smelled the freshly turnedclay—smelled it in that assortment of evil odors congregated in theparade!—and had sought to discover what this might be so recentlyburied. Fraud! Fraud! the cry went up on every side. Unmasked fraud, andStuart should die the death! He had violated the solemn agreement bywhich the garrison was liberated; he had surrendered the spare arms andthe cannon indeed, but only a fraction of the powder of the warlikestores—and he should die the death and at once. Stuart wondered that hewas not torn to pieces by the infuriated savages, protesting theirindignation because of[354] his violation of the treaty,—while hisgarrison, under the Cherokees' solemn agreement of safe-conduct, lay inall their massacred horrors unburied on the plains of Taliquo. The cantof the Cherokees, their hypocrisy, and their vaunting clamor ofconscience made them seem, if one were disposed to be cynical, almostcivilized! Doubtless, but for Oconostota's statesmanlike determinationto sift the matter first, Stuart could not have been torn from among thetribesmen and dragged to the seclusion of his own great mess-hall, wherethe door was closed and barred in their distorted faces as they followedwith their howls. He was required to stand at one end of the grievouslydismantled room and detail his reason for this reserve of the powder.Had he grounds to suspect any renewal of the English occupancy? Had heknowledge of forces now on the march in the expectation of raising thesiege of Fort Loudon? Oconostota pointed out the desirability of tellingthe truth, with a feeling allusion to the Great Spirit, the folly ofseeking to deceive the omniscient Indian, as the discovery of the powdersufficiently illustrated, and the discomforts that would ensue toCaptain Stuart, should it be found necessary to punish him for lying, byburning him alive in his own chimney-place, admirably adapted for thepurpose. Oconostota sat now with his back to it, with all his council ofchiefs in a semicircle about[355] him, on the buffalo rug on the broadhearth. The Indian interpreter Quoo-ran-be-qua, the great Oak, stoodbehind him and looked across the length of the room at Captain Stuart,the only other person standing, and clattered out his wooden sentences.

Stuart could make no further effort. His capacity to scheme seemedexhausted. He replied in his bluff, off-hand manner, his bloody headheld erect, that they now had more powder than was good forthem,—witness the bursting of that costly great gun! He had buried thepowder in the hope of further English occupancy of the fort, which hehad, however, no reason to expect; it was only his hope,—his earnesthope! He had left them spare arms, great guns, ball, powder,—muchpowder,—and if he had seen fit to reserve some store he could say, witha clear conscience, that it was done only in the interests of peace andhumanity, and because of doubts of their good faith,—how well groundedthe blood shed this day upon the plains of Taliquo might testify! Hisfriends, his comrades, were treacherously murdered under thesafe-conduct of the Cherokee nation. And if he were to die too, he wasfully prepared to show with what courage he could do it.

His eyes flashed as he spoke; they seemed to transmit a spark across theroom to the dull orbs of the interpreter. And what was this? Stuart'sknowledge of the Cherokee language enabled him[356] to discern the fact thatafter a moment's hesitation Quoo-ran-be-qua was clacking out a coherentstatement to the effect that the concealment of the powder was CaptainDemeré's work, and wrought unknown to Stuart during his absence on hismission to Choté, where, as the great chiefs well knew, he was detainedseveral hours. Stuart stared in astonishment at the interpreter, who,blandly secure in the conviction that the prisoner did not comprehendthe Cherokee language, maintained his usual stolid aspect. WhetherStuart's courage so enforced admiration, or whatever quality had securedfor him the regard of the higher grade of Indians, the interpreter hadsought, by an unrecognized, unrewarded effort, to save the officer'slife by a sudden stroke of presence of mind,—a subterfuge which hesupposed, in his simplicity, undiscoverable.

There were milder countenances now in the circle, and Stuart's attentionwas presently concentrated upon an eager controversy betweenAtta-Kulla-Kulla and Willinawaugh that was curiously enough, at thismoment of gravest council, sitting in judgment on the disposal of ahuman life, a matter of chaffer, of bargain and sale. Willinawaugh hadalready refused a new rifle and a horse—and then two horses besides,and, still untempted, shook his head. And suddenly the interest in theconcealment of the powder collapsed, and they were all looking at[357]Willinawaugh, who gazed much perplexed down at the ground, all hiswrinkles congregated around his eyes, eager to acquire yet loath totrade, while Atta-Kulla-Kulla, keen, astute, subtle, plied him withoffers, and tempting modifications of offers, for the Cherokees of thatdate were discriminating jockeys and had some fine horses.

The wind came in at the loop-holes and stirred the blood-clotted hair onthe prisoner's brow, and the suspension of the mental effort that theexamination cost him was for a moment a relief; the shadowy dusk of theill-lighted room was grateful to his eyes, the heavy, regular throbbingof his head grew less violent. He could even note the incongruity of thesituation when he saw that Willinawaugh resisted upon the point that thematter was with him a question of character! The chief said he had losthis standing in public estimation because he had allowed the Englishman,MacLeod, and his brother, to deceive him on the pretense of beingFrench,—for although he (Willinawaugh) spoke French himself, and thatbetter than some people who had lost their front tooth, he could notunderstand such French as the two Scotchmen spoke, nor, indeed, as someCherokees spoke, with their front tooth out.

Savanukah, seated on the rug an expression of poignant mortification onhis face, his lips fast closed over the missing tooth, only muttereddisconsolately,[358] in his mingled French and Cherokee jargon, "C'estdommage! Sac-llé bleu! Noot-te![J] Ugh! en vérité—O-se-u!"[K]

Willinawaugh, pausing merely for effect, continued. He himself was notan interpreter, to be sure; he was a Cherokee war-captain, with a greatreputation to sustain. He had captured the prisoner, and it ill accordedwith his honor to yield him to another.

And Stuart became aware, with a start that almost dislocated hispinioned arms, that it was the transfer of his custody, the purchase ofhimself, over which they were bargaining.

Again Willinawaugh shook his head. Was he some slight thing,—seequa,cheefto, an opossum, a rabbit? "Sinnawah na wora!"[N] he criedsonorously. For months, he said, he had besieged that man in his greatstronghold of Fort Loudon. Like a panther he had watched it; like aspider he had woven his webs about it; like a wolf by night he hadassaulted it; like a hawk he had swooped down upon it and had taken itfor the Cherokee nation; and it was a small matter if he, who spokeFrench so well, had not comprehended[359]an Englishman who spoke Frenchlike an unknown tongue, and had let him pass, being deceived!

Would the great chief, whose words in whatever language were ofparamount importance, accept a money price?

As several gold pieces rolled out on the buffalo rug, the wrinkles sogathered around Willinawaugh's eyes that those crafty orbs seemedtotally eclipsed. He wagged his head to and fro till "him top-feathers"temporarily obliterated the squad of henchmen behind him, in woe that hecould not take the money, yet not in indecision.

For lo, he said, who had done so much as he, whose prestige had beentouched for a trifle, whose best-beloved brother, Savanukah, hadmaligned him—for the sake of an Englishman who could not speak Frenchso that it could be understood. He had let that Englishman pass—it wasa small matter, and if any had sustained harm it was he himself—for theEnglish brother in the French squaw's dress had escaped through hislines, and came near raising the siege, perhaps—because of the Frenchsquaw's dress. But he was not there, and he gave the English boy nofront tooth!

At this reiterated allusion, Savanukah's guttural grunt,O-se-u! wasalmost a groan.

"Rifle, six horses, seven pieces of gold in ransom," saidAtta-Kulla-Kulla, slowly massing his wealth.[360]

Once more Willinawaugh shook his head. His prestige had suffered becauseof aspersions. Yet he had besieged the fort and reduced the two captainsand their splendid cannon—this for the Cherokee nation! He had followedhard on the march of the garrison, and with Oconostota and his force hadsurrounded them and killed many, and captured the great Captain Stuartalive!—this for the revenge of the Cherokee nation! But the scalp ofthe great Captain Stuart, with its long fair hair, like none others, wasa trophy for himself—this he should wear at his belt as long as heshould live, that when he told how he had wrought for the Cherokeenation none should say him nay!

Oconostota suddenly showed a freshened interest. He turned toAtta-Kulla-Kulla, who sat on his right hand, and in an eager, low voicespoke for a moment; the half-king seeming anxious, doubtful, then noddedin slow and deliberative acquiescence. Meantime Willinawaugh's wordsflowed on.

And—he lifted his fierce eyes in triumph to the captive's face—for allthose weary days of beleaguerment, for every puff of smoke from theshotted guns, for every blaze they belched, for every ball, deathfreighted, they vomited, for every firelock that spoke from theloop-holes in the midnight attack, would be meted out Captain Stuart'spenalty—in pangs, with knives, with cords, with hot coals,[361] with flamesof fire! The time had come to reward his patience!

"You have done well," said Atta-Kulla-Kulla, "you should think well onyour reward!"

And he laid before Willinawaugh a fine gold watch—an English huntingwatch, with a double case, and the works were running; doubtless, it wasanother trophy from the slaughtered officers of Colonel Montgomery'sharassed march. Willinawaugh was stricken dumb.

Stuart, in whose heart poor Hope, all bruised and bleeding, with wingsbroken but about to spread anew, astonished, overcome, with somepoignant pang of gratitude that the semblance of kindness should beagain extended to him by aught on earth, felt a stifling suffocationwhen Oconostota's voice broke in on his behalf, for naught from thecrafty Cherokee king boded good. The "Great Warrior" declared thatWillinawaugh's deeds spoke for themselves—not in French, not inEnglish, but in the Cherokee tongue—in flame and in blood, in courageand in victory. The prisoner's scalp was no great matter in the face ofthe fact of Fort Loudon. The long fair hair of the English Captain tohang at his belt if he liked, but here was Fort Loudon to swing foreverat the silver belt of the Tennessee River! He thought the greatWillinawaugh had a right to choose his reward—the goods or the scalp.[362]The scalp Atta-Kulla-Kulla could not wear, not having taken it. And thegreat Willinawaugh could be present and rejoice when Atta-Kulla-Kullashould choose to burn the captive; for whom he, himself, andAtta-Kulla-Kulla had devised a certain opportunity of usefulness to theCherokee nation before Stuart should be called upon to expiate hiscrimes at the stake to satisfy the vengeance of his conqueror.

And who so glad as Willinawaugh to lose naught of hissatisfaction—neither his material nor immaterial reward? who now soglad to protest that he would waive any personal gratification thatstood in the way of utility to the Cherokee nation? He had the watch inhis hand, dangling by the gold chain and seals; the ticking caught hisear. He held it up close, with an expression of childish delight thatmetamorphosed his fierce face and seemed actually to freshen theexpression of "him top-feathers."

In obedience to a motion of Atta-Kulla-Kulla's hand, Stuart followed himout to the parade in the red rays of the sinking sun,—how often thencehad he watched it go down behind the level ramparts of the CumberlandMountains! They passed through the staring motley throng to CaptainDemeré's house which the half-king had chosen for his own quarters. Itwas a log-cabin, floored, and of two rooms with a roofed but openpassage between, not unlike the[363] cabins of the region of the presentday. Here the Cherokee paused, and with a pass or two of thescalping-knife cut the ropes that pinioned Stuart, opened the door ofDemeré's bedroom and with an impassive face sternly motioned him toenter.

The door was closed and Stuart was alone in the quarters reserved forthe chief. It had not yet been invaded by the filthy plundering gangswithout, and its order and military neatness and decorum affected hisquivering nerves as a sort of solace—as of a recurrence of the saneatmosphere of right reason after a period of turbulent mania. Andsuddenly his heart was all pierced by grief and a sense of bereavement.He had realized his friend was dead, and he felt that this might fairlybe considered the better fate. But somehow the trivial personalbelongings so bespoke the vanished presence that he yearned for Demeréin his happy release; the shaken nerves could respond to the echo of avoice forever silenced; he could look into vacancy upon a face he wasdestined to see never again. His jaded faculties, instead of reachingforward to the terrible future, began to turn back vaguely to thedetails of their long service together; as a reflex of the agitation hehad endured he could not, in the surcease of turmoil, compass a quietmind; he began to experience that poignant anguish of bereavement,self-reproach. He remem[364]bered trifling differences they had had in thelife they lived here like brothers, and his own part in them gnawed inhis consciousness like a grief; he repented him of words long agoforgiven; he thought of personal vexations that he might have sought tosmooth away but carelessly left in disregard; and when he lay down inthe darkness on the narrow camp-bed with his friend's pillow under hishead, Demeré's look this morning, of affectionate banter, with which hehad turned on the ground as they lay in the bivouac was so present tohis mind that the tears which all his pains and griefs were powerless tosummon, sprang to his eyes.

But the weary physical being sunk to rest, and then in the midst of hissomnolent mental impressions was wrought a change. Demeré was with himstill,—not in the guise of that white, stark face, upturned now to thestars on the plains of Taliquo,—but in his serene, staid presence as helived; together they were at Fort Loudon, consulting, planning, as inits happier days; now it was the capacity of the spring which theywished to enlarge, and this they had done with blasting-powder; now itwas the device to add to the comfort of the garrison by framing thelittle porches that stood before the doors of the barracks; now it wasthe erection of an out-work on the side exposed to assault by the river,and they were marking off the ravelin,—Corporal[365] O'Flynn and a squad,with the tapes,—and directing the fashioning of the gabions, theIndians peacefully sitting by the while like some big, unintelligent,woodland animals, while the great, basket-like frames were woven ofwhite oak splints and then filled with the solid earth. He was trying totell Demeré that he was afraid something would happen to that second gunin the barbette battery on the northeast bastion, for the metal alwaysrang with a queer vibration, and he had had a dream that Oconostota hadovercharged and fired it, and it had exploded; and as Demeré waslaughing at this folly Stuart realized suddenly the fact that the daywas coming in to him again there in his friend's place, as it would comeno more to Demeré, though dawning even now at Taliquo Plains where helay. Instead of that essential presence, on which Stuart had leaned andrelied, and which in turn had leaned and relied on him, there was in hismind but a memory, every day to grow dimmer.

Nevertheless, he rose, refreshed and strengthened with the stimulus ofthat unreal association, which was yet so like reality, with the comradeof his dreams. The orderly instincts of a soldier, as mechanical as thefunctions of respiration, enabled him, with the use of fresh linen fromhis friend's relinquished effects, to obliterate the traces of the[366]experiences of the previous day, and fresh and trim, with that precisemilitary neatness that was so imposing to the poor Indian, who could notcompass its effect, he went out to meet the half-king with a gaitassured and steady, a manner capable and confident, and an air ofexecutive ability, that bade fair for the success of any scheme to whichhe might lend his aid.

Now and again he marked a glance of deep appreciation from the subtleAtta-Kulla-Kulla,[13] the result of much cogitation and effort at mentalappraisement. He feared that important developments were to ensue, andafter breakfast, at which meal he was treated like a guest and an equal,and not in the capacity of slave, as were most captives, his hostnotified him that his presence would be necessary at a council to beheld at Choté.

Too acute, far too acute was Atta-Kulla-Kulla not to recognize andcomment upon the different aspect of life at Fort Loudon. "The red mancannot, without use, become capable of handling the advantages of thewhite man," he said in excuse of the anarchy everywhere, with all theriot and grotesqueness and discomfort incident to being out of one'ssphere. At Choté the Cherokees would have seemed as easy, asappropriate, as graceful, as native as the deer.

And at Choté Oconostota seemed as native as[367] the fox. There he sat onthe great buffalo rugs, even his faculties much more at command in hiswonted place, under the dusky red walls of the clay-daubed dome of thecouncil-chamber. And there Captain Stuart learned the reason of theCherokee king's interference yesterday to postpone his fate.

For Oconostota had evolved the bold project of the reduction of FortPrince George. This would consummate the triumph of the fall of FortLoudon, rid the greater portion of the Cherokee country of the presenceof the English, and, with their strongholds in the hands of the Indians,reinforced by a few French gunners, prevent them from ever renewingfoothold. The powder left by Stuart he had found, in experimenting withthe guns, was not enough for a siege, but with the discovery of the tenextra bags, the supply would prove most ample. The ammunition, togetherwith the guns, was to be at once removed and transported thither,laborious though it might prove.

Stuart attempted to set forth the great difficulties of the undertaking,but was met at every point by the foresight and ingenuity of Oconostota,who had considered evidently each detail. It was plain that the projectwas feasible, for the Indian, too lazy in peace to hoe a row of beans,is capable in war of prodigies of valorous industry. Stuart began[368] tofeel singularly placed, since he did not perceive in this his personalconcern, to be thus admitted to a council of war with the enemy. Theaffability of Oconostota he knew was insincere, but being in theCherokee king's power the fraud of his amiability was more acceptablethan the ferocity of his candor.

"In what capacity?" Stuart asked, also politic, seeking to disguise hisanxiety, for any hesitation or refusal would renew his straits ofyesterday, Atta-Kulla-Kulla being as eager, as capable, and even moresubtle in planning the campaign than Oconostota.

"You will write the letters to the commandant of Fort Prince George,summoning him in our names to surrender, and"—with a twinkle of theeye—"advising him in your own name to comply."

Stuart bowed in bland acquiescence. "And the commandant will find itvery easy reading between the lines of any letters I shall write him,"he said to himself.

Nevertheless, he still sought to dissuade them. In ignorance of thestate of the defenses at Fort Prince George, the strength of the works,the supply of ammunition and provisions, the difficulties that mighthave arisen in communicating with Charlestown, he sought to avert thedangers of a[369] siege and a possible ultimate disaster such as hadbefallen Fort Loudon. But although he spoke with force and readiness itwas very guardedly.

"If the great Cherokee kings would please to consider the experiencewhich I have had in the management of cannon, I should like to representthat such an attack on Fort Prince George can but be a duel withartillery. I am not well acquainted with the armament of Fort PrinceGeorge," he declared, "but it may well chance that the cannon, capturedby the Cherokees at so great a cost, may be disabled under a heavy fireand lost to Fort Loudon, which would then become mere intrenchments, tobe leveled by a single brisk cannonade."

Atta-Kulla-Kulla, his quick, keen, fiery face aglow, informed him thatthey would leave a reserve of cannon at Fort Loudon, his advice havingbeen to take with them only six of the great guns and two coehorns.

Stuart was baffled for a moment by the definiteness and the militarycoherence of these plans. He rallied, however, to say that the gunnersof Fort Prince George were trained men, doubtless, and drilled withfrequent target practice. And a commander of skill, such as theirs, wasessential to the effectiveness of an aggressive demonstration.

A flicker of triumph illuminated Atta-Kulla-Kulla's spirited face. Theywere provided in this[370] emergency also. He, the great Captain Stuart,would command the artillery of the expedition, the guns to be served byIndians as cannoneers under his direction; nicety of aim was notessential; a few days' practice would suffice, and at short range FortPrince George was a large target.

For his life Stuart could not control his countenance; the color flaredto the roots of his hair; his eyes flashed; his hand trembled; he couldnot find his voice; and yet angry as he was, he was both amazed anddaunted.

Oconostota broke in upon his speechless agitation in a smooth, soothingvoice to remind him of the clemency he enjoyed in that his life had beenspared, and only yesterday, even at the supreme moment of the discoveryof the treachery of his garrison in the concealment of the powder. Theyhad not acquainted Willinawaugh with their designs, for Oconostotahimself would lead the expedition. (Stuart as a military man realized anecessity, that sometimes supervenes in more sophisticatedorganizations, which they felt of curbing the power of a possibly toosuccessful and a too aspiring subordinate.) How generous, declaredOconostota, had been the intercession of the nobleAtta-Kulla-Kulla,—half-king of the Cherokees,—who had given in effectall his wealth to ransom him, a mereeeankke, a prisoner, from hiswarlike[371] captor, the great Willinawaugh, that this military servicemight be rendered in exchange for his life.

Stuart's eyes turned away; he sought to veil their expression; he lookedthrough the tall narrow door of the red clay walls at the waters of theTennessee River, silver-shotted and blue as ever, still flowing down anddown beyond the site of Fort Loudon—unmindful of its tragic fate,unmindful! The august domes of the Great Smoky Mountains showed now adull velvet blue against the hard blue of the turquoise sky, and anondrew a silver shimmer of mists about them. Chilhowee Mountain, richlybronze and green, rose in the middle distance, and he was vaguelyreminiscent of the day when he watched the young soldier rocking in hisboat on the shallows close to the shore, the red coat giving a brightspot of color to the harmonious duller tones of the landscape, andwondered were it possible among these friendly people that the lad couldbe in danger of a stealthy rifle shot. Now there were no redcoats,—nevermore were they to be seen here! Between himself and thewater he watched only the white swaying of a tall cluster of the greatethereally delicate snowy blossoms, since known as the Chilhowee lily.

He kept his eyes still averted, his voice deepening with the seriousnessof his sentiment as he replied that this was impossible—he could not[372]undertake the command of the Cherokee artillery against Fort PrinceGeorge; he was bound by his oath of fidelity which he had sworn to theEnglish government; he could not bear arms against it.

A choking chuckle recalled his gaze to the dusky red interior of thecouncil-chamber. Oconostota's countenance was distorted with derision,and his twinkling eyes were swimming in the tears of the infrequentlaughter of the grave Indian—even Atta-Kulla-Kulla's face wore aprotesting smile of scorn as of a folly.

Twice Oconostota sought to speak, and he sputtered, and choked, andcould not, for his relish of the thought in his mind. Then with a deepmock-seriousness he demanded slowly if it were fireproof. And relapsedinto his shaking chuckle.

"This oath of yours—to the English government. Does this fidelity soclothe your body that it will not burn and crisp and crinkle in theanguish as of your hell? Does your oath harden your flesh as a rock,that arrows and knives shall not pierce it and sting and ache as theystick there waiting for the slow fires to do their work? Will your oathrestore sight to your eyes when a red-hot iron has seared them?" Hecould say no more for the chuckling delight that shook and shook hislean old body.[373]

Atta-Kulla-Kulla spoke in reproach. The Cherokee kings had offeredCaptain Stuart life and practically liberty in exchange for thisservice. If he denied it and talked of his oath, it was but just thatvengeance should take its way. Many a Cherokee had fallen dead from thefire of his garrison of Loudon, both of great guns and small, and theirblood called still from the ground. A wise man was Captain Stuart, andhe would choose wisely.

He was a hearty man, still young, and in full vigor, and, although hislife had been but little worth of late, he was loath to throw it away.

He began to temporize, to try to gain time. He sought to talkdiscontentedly of the project, as if he found it infeasible. Thecommandant, he said, as if he contemplated him only as the leader of anopposing force, would fight at an infinite advantage within the strongdefenses of Fort Prince George, while he outside, without intrenchmentsexcept such hasty works as could be thrown up in a night, and beatendown by the enemy's cannonade in the morning, could but expect to havehis guns soon silenced. A regular approach would be impracticable. TheIndians were not used to fight unscreened. They would never open aparallel under fire, and a vigilant defense would make havoc among theworking parties.

He noted the effect of the unfamiliar military[374] theories upon theIndians, as they both seemed to anxiously canvass them.

"You cannot skulk behind a tree with cannon," he continued. "Theartillery, to be able to command the fort with its fire, would be withinrange of the enemy's batteries, and without efficient cover it would benecessary, in serving each piece, for the gunners to be exposed to fireall the time."

An interval of deep, pondering silence ensued. At lengthAtta-Kulla-Kulla said he believed there would be little or no fight onaccount of the prisoners.

Then Oconostota explained, with his blandest circumlocutions, that,partly as a check upon his dear brother's good faith, bound as he was byhis oath of fidelity to the English government,—and he almost chokedwith the relish of his derision every time he mentioned it,—and to makesure that he should handle the guns properly, and fire them with dueeffect,—not aiming them wildly, so that the balls might fly over thefort, or fall short, not spiking the guns, or otherwise demolishingthem, all of which his great knowledge of the arm rendered possible, andthe ignorance of the poor red man unpreventable, they had determined totake with them the remnant of the garrison, their lives to be pledges ofhis good conduct and effective[375] marksmanship; and if at last his earnestand sincere efforts should prove unavailing, and the commandant shouldcontinue to hold out and refuse to surrender when finally summoned,these, the countrymen and fellow-soldiers of that officer, should besingly tortured and burned before his eyes, within full sight andhearing of Fort Prince George.

As the fiendish ingenuity of this scheme was gradually unfolded, Stuartsat stunned. All the anguish he had suffered seemed naught to thisprospect. He staggered under the weight of responsibility. The lives ofthe poor remnant of his garrison,—more, their death by fire andtorture,—hung upon such discretion as he could summon to aid hisexhausted powers in these repeated and tormented ordeals. He saidnothing; he could not see and he did not care for the succession ofchuckles in which Oconostota was resolved at the delightful spectacle ofhis dismay. The Cherokee had beaten this man of resource at his littlegame of war, and now had outmaneuvered him at his mastercraft ofscheming!

CHAPTER XIII

Stuart seemed utterly vanquished—his spirit gone. In silence he wasconducted back to his quarters in Demeré's house at Fort Loudon. And asthere he sat in the spare, clean room, in the single chair it contained,with one elbow on the queer, rough little table, constructed accordingto a primitive scheme by the post carpenter, he stared forward blanklyat the inevitable prospect so close before him. He had not now thesolace of solitude in which he might have rallied his faculties. On thebuffalo rug on the floor Atta-Kulla-Kulla reclined and smoked hislong-stemmed pipe and watched him with impenetrable eyes. Once he spoketo him of the preparations making without, selecting the men for thegunners of the expedition. Stuart lifted his head abruptly.

"I will not go!" he cried in sudden passion. "So help me, God! I willdie first!—a thousand deaths. So help me, God!" He lifted his clinchedright hand in attestation and shook it wildly in the air.

He had a momentary shame in thus giving way[377] to his surchargedfeelings, but as he rose mechanically from his chair his restless eyes,glancing excitedly about the room, surprised an expression of sympathyin the face of the Cherokee as he lay coiled up on the rug.

"Atta-Kulla-Kulla!" Stuart exclaimed impulsively, holding out both arms,"feel for me! Think of me! The poor remnant of the garrison! My 'youngmen'! My own command! I will die first, myself, a thousand deaths!"

Atta-Kulla-Kulla began to argue, speaking partly in Cherokee and now andagain in fragmentary English. Neither the one nor the other might be thevictim. The commandant at Fort Prince George would yield under thisstrong coercion.

"Never! Never!" cried Stuart. "His duty is to hold the fort. He willdefend it to the last man and the last round of ammunition and the lastissuance of rations. For his countrymen to be tortured and burned in hissight and hearing would doubtless give him great pain. But his duty isto his own command, and he will do it."

Atta-Kulla-Kulla seemed doubtful. "And then," argued Stuart, "would suchtorturing and burning of the surrendered garrison of Fort Loudon beforethe eyes of the garrison of Fort Prince George be an inducement to themto surrender too, and perhaps meet the same fate? Be sure they will[378]sell their lives more dearly! Be sure they will have heard of themassacre of the soldiers under the Cherokees' pledge of safe-conduct onthe plains of Taliquo."

"To-e-u-hah!" Atta-Kulla-Kulla broke out furiously. "To-e-u-hah! Itis most true!"

His countenance had changed to extreme anger. He launched out into abitter protest that he had always contemned, and deprecated, and soughtto prevent this continual violation of their plighted word and theobligations of their treaties on the part of the Cherokee nation. Itinvariably hampered their efforts afterward, as it was hampering themnow. It took from their hand the tool of negotiation, the weapon of thehead-men, and left only the tomahawk, the brute force of the tribe.Wahkane, wahkane! Was it not so when the treaty of Lyttleton wasbroken and Montgomery, the Terrible, came in his stead? And when theCherokees had driven him out, and had taken their revenge on him for theblood which had been shed in his first foray, of what avail to massacrethe garrison evacuating Fort Loudon, the possession of which had beenfor so long a coveted boon, and thus preclude a peaceful rendering ofFort Prince George and the expulsion of all English soldiery fromCherokee soil!

Stuart, cautiously reticent, let him dilate upon[379] all the wrongs wroughtin council by the disregard of his advice, only now and again dropping aword as fuel to the flame. Cautiously, too, he led to the topic of theregard and the admiration which the acute mind and the more enlightenedmoral sentiment of this chief had excited in the English authorities,and the service this official esteem would have been to the headstrongnation if they had availed themselves of it. For was not Montgomeryinstructed to offer them terms onhis account only? Their crueltyAtta-Kulla-Kulla was brought to perceive had despoiled them of thefruits of their victory; they might have, for all their patience and alltheir valor, and all their statecraft, only a few more scalps here andthere; for presently the great English nation would be pressing againfrom the south, with Fort Prince George as a base, and the war would beto begin anew.

Deep into the night Atta-Kulla-Kulla dwelt on the treachery towardhim,—for he had known naught of the enterprise of the massacre—thathad so metamorphosed victory into disaster. The moonlight was coming inat the window, reminding Stuart of that night when he lay at length onthe rug and consulted with Demeré and anxiously foreboded events, thenews of Montgomery's departure from the country having fallen upon themlike a crushing blow. How prescient of disaster they had felt—but[380] howlittle they had appraised its force! Paler now was the moon, moremelancholy, desolate to the last degree as it glimmered on thewhite-washed walls of the bare, sparely furnished room. His attentionhad relaxed with fatigue as he still sat with his elbow on the table,his head on his hand, vaguely hearing the Indian councillor droning outhis griefs of disregarded statesmanship and of the preferable attitudeof affairs, so rudely, so disastrously altered. Suddenly his tonechanged to a personal note.

"But it was ill with you, starving with your young men, in thisplace—long days, heap hungry."

Stuart stirred uneasily. "I can only die with what grace and courage Ican muster," he said reluctantly. He glanced about him with restlesseyes, like a hunted creature. "I cannot escape."

He looked up in sudden surprise. The Indian was standing now, gazingdown at him with a benignity of expression which warranted the characterof bold and forceful mind, and broad and even humane disposition, whichthis Cherokee had won of his enemies in the midst of the bloodshed andthe treachery and the hideous cruelty of the warfare in which he was somuch concerned.[381]

"John Stuart," he said, "have I not called you my friend? Have I notgiven all I possess of wealth to save your life? Do I not value it, andyet it is yours!"

Stuart had forgotten the chief's words that Christmas night at the greatgates, but they came back to him as Atta-Kulla-Kulla repeated them,anew.

In Stuart's amazement, in the abrupt reaction, he could hardly masterthe details of the unfolded plan. The Cherokee declared he had made uphis mind to a stratagem, such as might baffle even the designs ofOconostota. He doubted his own power to protect his prisoner, should theking learn that Stuart still refused his services in the expedition toFort Prince George. Oconostota's heart was set upon the reduction ofthis stronghold, and so was that of all the Cherokee nation. And yetAtta-Kulla-Kulla could but perceive the flagrant futility of theexpectation of the surrender of the garrison on the coercion thatOconostota had devised, especially as Fort Prince George was so muchnearer than Fort Loudon to communication with the white settlements. "Icontemplate the fact before it happens, they only afterward," he said.

On the pretext of diverting Stuart's mind after his glut of horrors, andin affording him this recrea[382]tion to secure an influence over him,eminently in character with the wiles of the Cherokee statesman, he gaveout that he intended to take his prisoner with him for a few days on ahunting expedition. The deer were now in prime condition, and CaptainStuart was known by the Indians to be specially fond of venison. In theold days at Fort Loudon they had often taken note of this preference,and stopped there to leave as a gift a choice haunch, or saddle, or tocrave the privilege of nailing a gigantic pair of antlers to vie withthe others on the walls of the great hall. Stuart himself was a famousshot, and was often called by them in complimentA-wah-ta-how-we, the"great deer-killer." The project created no surprise, and Stuart sawwith amazement the door of his prison ajar. One might have thought insuch a crisis of deliverance no other consideration could appeal to him.But his attachment to the British interest seems to have been like themarrow in his bones. He demanded of Atta-Kulla-Kulla the privilege ofbeing accompanied by two men of the garrison of his own choice.

The chief cast upon him a look of deep reproach. Did he fear treachery?Had his friend, his brother, deserved this?

"I ask much of a friend—nothing of an enemy," declared Stuart, bluffly."You know my heart—trust me."[383]

Atta-Kulla-Kulla yielded. If he experienced curiosity, the names of thetwo men which Stuart gave him afforded no clue as to the reason fortheir selection; one was a gun-smith, an armorer of uncommon skill, andStuart knew that he was capable of dismounting and removing the cannon,without injury, through the tangled wilderness to Fort Prince George,should coercion overcome his resistance to the demands of the savages;the other, an artillery-man of long experience and much intelligence,himself adequately fitted to take command of the guns of the expedition,with a good chance of a successful issue. The massacre had swept awaymost of the cannoneers, and Stuart was aware that the infantrymen leftof the garrison would be hardly more capable of dealing with theproblems of gun service than was Oconostota, their careless and casualobservation being worth little more than his earnest, but denseignorance. Nevertheless, with his exacting insistence on the extremelimit of demand, he begged Atta-Kulla-Kulla, whose patience was wearingdangerously thin, to let him see them, speak to them for one moment.

As he stepped into the old exhausted store-room, where the soldiers wereherded together, squalid, heart-broken, ill, forlorn, Atta-Kulla-Kullaoutside[384] closing the door fast, a quavering cheer went up to greetStuart. For one moment he stood silent while their eyes met—a momentfraught with feeling too deep for words. Then his voice rang out and hespoke to the point. He wanted to remind them, he said, how the action ofthe garrison had forced the surrender and left the officers no choice,no discretion; however the event would have fallen out, it would nothave happened thus. "But I did not come here to mock your distress," heprotested. "I wish to urge you to rely upon me now. I have hopes ofsecuring the ransom of the garrison by the government,"—again a pitifulcheer,—"and as I may never be allowed to see you again this is my onlychance.Be sure of this,—no man need hope for ransom who affords theCherokees the slightest assistance in any enterprise against Fort PrinceGeorge, or takes up arms at their command."

He smiled, and waved his hat in courteous farewell, and stepped backwardout of the door, apparently guarded by Atta-Kulla-Kulla, while thatquavering huzza went up anew, the very sound almost breaking down hisself-control.

The next day Stuart, accompanied by Atta-Kulla-Kulla, the warrior'swife, his brother, the armorer, and the artillery-man,—thesupposititious hunting party,—set gayly and leisurely forth. But onceout of reach of espionage they traveled in a north[385]eastern directionwith the utmost expedition night and day through the tracklesswilderness, guided only by the sun and moon. What terrors of capture,what hardships of fatigue, what anxious doubt and anguish of hope theyendured, but added wings to the flight of the unhappy fugitives. Ninedays and nights they journeyed thus, hardly relaxing a muscle.

On the tenth day, having gained the frontiers of Virginia, theyfortunately fell in with a party of three hundred men, a part of Bird'sVirginia regiment, thrown out for the relief of any soldiers who mightbe escaping in the direction of that province from Fort Loudon, forthrough Hamish's dispatches its state of blockade and straits ofstarvation had become widely bruited abroad. With the succor thusafforded and the terror of capture overpast, the four days' furthertravel were accomplished in comparative ease, and brought the fugitivesto Colonel Bird's camp, within the boundaries of Virginia.

Here Stuart parted from Atta-Kulla-Kulla, with many a protestation andmany a regret, and many an urgent prayer that the chief would protectsuch of the unhappy garrison as were still imprisoned at Fort Loudonuntil they could be ransomed, measures for which Stuart intended to seton foot immediately. So the half-king of the Cherokees went his way backto his native wilds, loaded by Stuart with presents and commendations,and in[386] no wise regretting the radical course he hadtaken.[14] Stuarthad instantly sent off messengers to apprise the commandant of FortPrince George of the threatened attack, and to acquaint the governor ofSouth Carolina with the imminence of its danger and the fall of FortLoudon, for Governor Bull had expected Virginia to raise the siege ofLoudon, unaware that that province had dropped all thought of theattempt, finding its means utterly inadequate to march an army thitherthrough those vast and tangled wildernesses carrying the necessarysupplies for its own subsistence. Provisions for ten weeks were at oncethrown into Fort Prince George, and a report was industriouslycirculated among the Indians that the ground about it on every side hadbeen craftily mined to prevent approach.[15]

Stuart found that Hamish MacLeod, after performing his mission andsetting out for his return to the beleaguered fort with the responsivedispatches, had succumbed to the extreme hardship of those continuousjourneys throughout the wild fastnesses, many hundred miles of whichwere traversed on foot and at full speed under a blazing summer sun, andlay ill of brain-fever at one of the frontier settlements. There Stuartsaw him—still so delirious that, although recognizing the officer insome sort, he talked wildly of pressing dispatches, of the inattentionand callous hearts of officials in high[387] station, of delays and longwaitings for audience in official anterooms, of the prospect of anyexpedition of relief for the fort, of Odalie, and red calashes, andSavanukah, and rifle-shots, and Fifine, and "top-feathers," andSandy—Sandy—Sandy; always Sandy!

Later, Stuart was apprised that the boy was on the way to recovery whenhe received a coherent letter from Hamish, who had learned that Stuartwas using every endeavor—moving heaven and earth as the phrase went—tocompass the ransom of the survivors of the garrison still at Fort Loudonor the Indian villages in its neighborhood. Hamish had heard of the fallof the fort and the massacre of the evacuating force, and stillstaggering under the weight of the blow, he reminded Stuart peremptorilyenough of the services which Odalie had rendered in venturing forth fromthe walls under the officer's orders, when he dared not seek to induce aman to volunteer nor constrain one to the duty, and to urge upon hisconsideration the fact that she might be justly esteemed to have earnedher ransom and that of her husband and child. Hamish had an immediatereply by a sure hand.

If it could avail aught to Mrs. MacLeod or any of her household, Stuartwrote with an uncharacteristic vehemence of protest, every influence he[388]could exert, every half-penny he possessed, every drop of his bloodwould be cheerfully devoted to the service, so highly did he rate thelofty courage which had given to Fort Loudon its only chance of relief,and which under happier auspices would undoubtedly have resulted inraising the siege. Whatever might be forgotten, assuredly it would notbe the intrepid devotion of the "forlorn hope" of Fort Loudon.

Hamish, left to his own not overwise devices, decided to return to thecountry where he had quitted all that was dear to him, dangerous thoughthat return might be. And, indeed, those wild western woods included theboundaries of all the world to him—elsewhere he felt alone and analien. It seemed strange to realize that there were other people, otherinterests, other happenings of moment. He long remembered the sensation,and was wont to tell of it afterward, with which he discovered, campingone night at the foot of a tree—for he journeyed now by easy stages,keeping sedulously from the main trail through the forest—the traces ofa previous presence, a bit of writing cut on the bark of the tree."Daniel Boon," it ran, "cilled a bar on tree in the year 1760."

That momentous year—that crucial time of endeavor and fluctuating hopeand despair and death—a hunter here, all unaware of the maelstrom[389] ofmental and physical agony away there to the south in the shadow of thesame mountain range, was pursuing his quiet sylvan craft, andslaughtering his "bar" and the alphabet with equal calm and aplomb.

Perhaps it was well for the future career of the adventurous youngfellow that he fell in with some French traders, who were traveling withmany packhorses well laden, and who designed to establish themselveswith their goods at one of the Lower Towns of the Cherokees; they urgedthat he should attach himself to their march, whether from a humanesense of diminishing his danger, or because of the industry andusefulness and ever ready proffer of aid in the frank, bright, amiableboy, who showed a quality of good breeding quite beyond their custom,yet not unappreciated. They warned him that it would be certain death tohim, and perhaps to his captive relatives, should he in a flimsydisguise, which he had fancied adequate, of dyeing his hair a singularyellow and walking with a limp, which he often alertly forgot, ventureinto the villages of those Cherokees by whom he had been so well known,and against whose interest he had been employed in such vigorous andbold aggression. The traders showed some genuine feeling of sympathy anda deep indignation, because of the treachery that had resulted in themassacre of the garrison of Fort[390] Loudon,—although the English werealways the sworn foe of the French. The leader of the party, elderly, ofcommercial instincts rather than sylvan, albeit a dead shot, anddecorated with ear-rings, had a great proclivity toward snuff and tears,and often indulged in both as a luxury when Hamish with his simple artsought to portray the characters of the tragedy of the siege; and as theFrenchman heard of Fifine and Odalie, and Stuart and Demeré, and alltheir sufferings and courage and devices of despair—"Quellebarbarie!" he would burst forth, and Hamish would greet the phrase witha boyish delight of remembrance. Two or three of the party made anincursion into Choté when they reached its neighborhood, and returnedwith the news that the ransom of such of the garrison as were there hadtaken place, and they had been delivered to the commandant of FortPrince George, but certain others had been removed to Huwhasee Town andamong them were the French squaw, the pappoose, and the Scotchman. Inhis simplicity Hamish believed them, although Monsieur Galette sat late,with his delicate sentiments, over the camp-fire that night, and staredat it with red eyes, often suffused with tears, and took snuff after hisslovenly fashion until he acquired the aspect of a blackened pointedmuzzle, and looked in his elevated susceptibility like some queerunclassified baboon.[391]

But at Huwhasee Town Hamish heard naught of those his memory cherished.He was greatly amazed at the courage with which Monsieur Galette urgedupon the head-men that some measures should be taken to induceOconostota to remove that fence, of which they had heard at Choté, whichhad been built of the bones of the massacred garrison, and give themburial from out the affronted gaze of Christian people. This was notpleasing, he said, not even to the French. He was evidently growing oldand his heart was softening!

Lured by a vague rumor expressed among the party that those he soughthad been removed to a remote Indian town on the Tsullakee River, Hamishbroke away from Monsieur Galette, despite all remonstrances, to seekthose he loved in the further west—if slaves, as Monsieur Galettesuggested, he would rather share their slavery than without them enjoythe freedom of the king. And, constrained to receive two snuffy kisseson either cheek, he left Monsieur Galette shedding his frequent tears tomix with the snuff on his pointed muzzle.

And so in company with a French hunter in a canoe, Hamish went down thelong reaches of the Tsullakee River, coming after many days to theirdestination, to find only disappointment and a[392] gnawing doubt, and astrange, palsying numbness of despair. For the French traders here,reading Monsieur Galette's letter, looked at one another with gravefaces and collogued together, and finally became of the opinion that themembers of the family he sought were somewhere—oh, far away!—in thecountry where now dwelt the expatriated Shawnees, and that region, sogreat an Indian traveler as he was must know was inaccessible now in thewinter season. It would be well for him to dismiss the matter from hismind, and stay with them for the present; he could engage in the furtrade; his society would be appreciated. With the well-meaning Frenchflattery they protested that he spoke the French language so well—theymade him upon his proficiency their felicitations. Poor Hamish ought tohave known from this statement what value to attach to what they saidotherwise, conscious as he was how his verbs and pronouns disagreed, anddislocated the sense of his remarks, and popped up and down out ofplace, like a lot of puppets on a disorganized system of wires. Thesetraders were not snuffy nor lachrymose; they were of a gay dispositionand also wore ear-rings—but they all looked sorrowfully at him when heleft them, and he thought one was minded to disclose something withheld.

And so down and down the Tsullakee River he[393] went, and after thejunction of the great tributary with the Ohio, he plied his paddleagainst the strong current and with the French hunter came into theplacid waters of the beautiful Sewanee, or Cumberland, flouted by thenorth wind, his way winding for many miles in densest wintry solitudes.For this was the great hunting-ground of the Cherokee nation andabsolutely without population. His adventures were few and slight untilhe fell in with Daniel Boon, camping that year near the head waters ofthe Sewanee, who listened to his story with grave concern and a sane andeffective sympathy. He, too, advised the cessation of these ceaselesswanderings, but he thought Stuart's letter evasive, somehow, andcounseled the boy to write to him once more, detailing these longsearches and their futility. Hamish had always realized that Stuart'ssentiments, although by no means shallow, for he was warmly attached tohis friends, were simple, direct, devoid of the subtlety that sometimescharacterized his mental processes. Life to him was precious, aprivilege, and its environment the mere incident.

He now replied that he had not dared divulge all the truth while HamishMacLeod was in the enfeebled condition that follows brain-fever, and hadbeen loath, too, to rob him of hope, only that he might forlornly mournhis nearest and dearest. But since the fact must needs be revealed hecould[394] yet say their sorrows were brief. In that drear dawn on theplains of Taliquo the mother and child were killed in the same volley ofmusketry, and afterward, as he ordered from time to time the ranks toclose up, he saw Sandy, who had been fighting in line with the troops,lying on the ground, quite dead. "You may be sure of this," Stuartadded; "I took especial note of their fate, having from the first caredmuch for them all."

The terrible certainty wrought a radical change in Hamish. From themoment he seemed, instead of the wild, impulsive, affectionate boy, astern reserved man. In the following year he enlisted in a provincialregiment mustered to join the British regulars sent again by GeneralAmherst to the relief of the Carolina frontier; for the difficulties inCanada being set at rest, troops could be put in the field in the south,and vengeance for the tragedy of Fort Loudon became a menace to theCherokees, who had grown arrogant and aggressive, stimulated to furthercruelties by their triumphs and immunity. Nevertheless, Atta-Kulla-Kullawent forth to meet the invaders, and earnestly attempted to negotiate atreaty. It was well understood now, however, that he was in no sense arepresentative man of his nation, and his mission failed.Lieutenant-Colonel James Grant, on whom Colonel Montgomery's command hadnow devolved, at the[395] head of this little army of British regulars andprovincials, preceded by a vanguard of ninety Indian allies and thirtywhite settlers, painted and dressed like Indians, under command ofCaptain Quentin Kennedy,—in all about twenty-six hundredmen,—continued to advance into the Cherokee country. At Etchoee, thescene of the final battle of Colonel Montgomery's campaign in theprevious year, they encountered the Cherokees in their whole force—theunited warriors of all the towns. A furious battle ensued, both sidesfighting with prodigies of valor and persistence, that resulted inbreaking forever the power of the Cherokee nation. Three hours the rageof the fight lasted, and then the troops, pushing forward into thecountry, burned and slew on every side, wasting the growing crops allover the face of the land, and driving the inhabitants from the embersof their towns to the refuge of caves and dens of wild beasts in themountains. They stayed not their hand till Atta-Kulla-Kulla came again,now to humbly sue for peace and for the preservation of such poorremnant as was left of his people.

After this the colonists came more rapidly into the region. A settlementsprang up at Watauga, the site of one of Hamish's old camps as he hadjourneyed on his fruitless search for those who had made his home andthe wilderness a sort of paradise. But the place, far away from Loudonthough it was,[396] seemed sad to him. The austere range of mountain domeson the eastern horizon looked down on him with suggestions which theyimparted to none others who beheld them. He and they had confidences anda drear interchange of memories and a knowledge of a past that broke theheart already of the future. He was glad to look upon them no more! Hismind had turned often to the trivial scenes, the happier times, when,unbereaved of hope, he had hunted with the Frenchman on the banks of thebeautiful Sewanee River. And he welcomed the project of a number of thepioneers to carry their settlement on to the region of the French SaltLick, which other hunters had already rendered famous, and with a few ofthese he made his way thither by land while the rest traveled by water,the way of his old journey in search of his lost happiness. And here helived and passed his days.

He heard from Stuart from time to time afterward, but not always withpleasure. It is true that it afforded him a sentiment of deepgratification to learn that the Assembly of South Carolina had givenStuart a vote of thanks for his "courage, good conduct and longperseverance at Fort Loudon," with a testimonial of fifteen hundredpounds currency, and earnestly recommended him to the royal governor fora position of honor and profit in the service of the province; theoffice of Superintendent[397] of Indian Affairs for the South having beencreated, Stuart's appointment thereto by the Crown was received with theliveliest public satisfaction, it being a position that he waspronounced in every way qualified to fill.[16] For some years thissatisfaction continued, failing only when, in the growing differencesbetween the colonists and Great Britain, Stuart, wholly devoted to theroyal cause, conceived himself under obligations to carry out theinstructions which the British War Department sent to him and the fourroyal governors of the southern provinces to use every endeavor tocontinue the Indians in their adherence to the British standard asallies against all its enemies; even concocting a plan with GeneralGage, Governor Tonyn, Lord William Campbell, and other royalists,—whichplan happily failed,—to land a British army on the western coast ofFlorida, whence, joined by tories and Indians, the united force shouldfall upon the western frontiers of Carolina at the moment of attack onthe eastern coast by a British fleet, in the hope that the province thussurrounded would be obliged to sue the royal government for peace.

Hamish had had some opportunity at Fort Loudon to observe the tenacitywith which Stuart at all hazards adhered to his "instructions and theinterest of the government," but in this crisis it ceased to appear inthe guise of duty. In such a time it[398] seemed to Hamish an independent,enlightened judgment partook of the values of a pious patriotism. Apermanent breach in their friendship was made when Stuart wrote toHamish to call his attention to the fact that the MacDonalds ofKingsburgh and the MacLeods and other leal Scotch hearts in the southernprovinces were fighting under the royal banner. Hamish repliedsuccinctly that "on whatever side the MacLeods fought, with whateverresult, be sure the thing would be well done." As if to illustrate thefact, he himself some time afterward set forth with the "mountain men"to march against the royalists under Ferguson, and was among the victorsin the battle of King's Mountain.

In the earlier times of the settlement of the State, fraught withtroubles with the Indians, who, more timorous than formerly, were yetmore skulking, Hamish was wont to take with hearty good-will to therifle, the knife, the pistol, and the firebrand. He was with Sevier onmore than one of those furious forays, when vengeance nerved the handand hardened the heart, for many of the pioneers avenged the slain oftheir own household. But as he grew old, the affinity of his hand forthe trigger slackened, and he liked only the blaze of the benignantfireside; sometimes he would laugh and shake his gray head and declarethat he reminded himself of Monsieur Galette, with his theories ofsweet[399] peace in that fierce land, and his soft heart and his sinewy oldhand that could send a bullet so straight from the bore of his flintlockrifle. And so great a favorite did Monsieur Galette become in Hamish'sfireside stories, so often clamored for, that he would ask hisgrandchildren, clustering about him, if they would like him better witha muzzle of snuff and a pair of ear-rings and a tear-discoursing eye,and declare that he must take measures to secure these embellishments.

And so, gradually, by slow degrees, he was led on to talk of thepast,—of the beautiful Carolina girl who had been his brother's wife,of the quaint babble of Fifine, of Stuart and Demeré, of CorporalO'Flynn, and the big drum-major, and the queer old African cook, and thecat that had been so cherished—but he never, never ventured a word ofSandy, to the last day of his life; Sandy!—for whom he had had almost afilial veneration blended with the admiring applausive affection of theyounger brother for the elder.

When he had grown very old—for he died only in 1813—he had abeneficent illusion that might come but to one standing, as could besaid, on the borderland of the two worlds. It came in dreams, suchperhaps as old men often dream, but his experiences made it thetenderer. Sometimes in the golden afternoon of summer, as he sat inplacid[400] sleep, with his long, white hair falling about his shoulders,one of his wrinkled, veinous hands lying on the arm of his chair wouldtremble suddenly and contract with a strong grasp, and he would look up,at naught, with a face of such joyous recognition and tender appeal,that the children, playing about, would pause in their mirth and ask,with awe, what had he seen. And it seemed that he had felt his handcaught with a certain playful clasp such as years ago—more than half acentury—Odalie was wont to give it, when she had been waiting for himlong, and would wait no longer. And looking up, he could see herstanding there, waiting still, smiling serenely, joyously as of yore;and so she would stand till the dream vanished in the reality of thechildren clustering around his knees, besieging him once more for thestory of Old Fort Loudon.

NOTES

1 Page 8. In addition to luring an enemy within shot by the mimicry ofthe voice of bird or beast the Indians' consummate art of ambuscadeenabled them to imitate the footprints of game by affixing the hoofs ofdeer or buffalo or the paws of bear to their own feet and hands, andthus duplicate the winding progress of these animals for miles with suchskill as to deceive not merely the white settlers, new to the country,but Indian enemies of other tribes, expert woodmen like themselves.

2 Page 18. The name of this famous town is variously given. Adair spellsit as Choàte. Bancroft inclines to Chotee. Bartram has it asChote-Great. Some of the old maps show it as Chotte. Modern historiansof Tennessee, Hayward, J. G. M. Ramsey, Putnam, and others make itChota, but most of the earlier writers concerning this region adopt theFrench rendering and call it Choté; Hewatt, however, David Ramsey, andothers use theaccent grave, Chotè. This town, seldom alluded towithout the phrase "old town" or "beloved town," to distinguish it fromanother Indian village of the same name among the Lower Towns, was averitable "city of refuge," and the only one of the Cherokee nation. Amurderer, even if a white man and the victim a Cherokee, might live foryears here secure from vengeance. Although there is an instance known ofa malefactor, who sought an asylum here and was prevented from landing,being held down in the Tennessee River until drowned, still the rule wasinviolable that if the refugee could but gain a footing on theever-sacred soil, he was as safe as if clinging to the horns of analtar. This fact contributed, with other confirmatory circumstances ofusage and tradition,[402] to continue the speculations touching the identityof the American Indians with the lost tribes of Israel. Humboldt saysthat from the most remote times of the Missions the opinion has beenentertained that the languages of the American Indians and the Hebrewdisplay extraordinary analogies. He ascribes this fact to the positionof the personal and possessive pronouns at the end of the nouns andverbs, and the numerous tenses of the latter, a characteristic of boththe Indian and Hebrew tongues which naturally struck the attention ofthe monks. An analogy, however, does not go far to prove an identity oforigin. He refers to Adair as among travelers "somewhat credulous whohave heard the strains of the Hebrew Hallelujah among the Chickasaws andChoctaws of North America,"—and he might have added the Cherokees also.James Adair, however, could hardly be called a traveler. He published inLondon in 1775 the results of his observation during a residence offorty years as a trader among the Chickasaws and neighboring tribes. Headduces many analogies of their languages with the Hebrew, and callsattention to many customs for which he seeks to discern precedent in theMosaic dispensation. How much he had read of previous speculations it isimpossible to say. He protests that he is but a trader and not "askillful Hebraist," by his vocation obliged to write far from alllibraries, literary associations, and conversation with the learned,compelled even to keep his papers secret from the observation of theIndians, always very jealous of the enigmatical "black marks" of thetraders' correspondence, but he quotes largely from many writers bothEnglish and foreign—the Reverend Mr. Thorowgood, Don Antonio de Ulloa,Acosta, Benzo, etc., and shows considerable aptness of logic in adaptinghis theories to his investigations into the structure of the Indianlanguages. Such nice verbal distinctions, such order and symmetry, sucha train of subtle and exact religious terms, he argues, could not beinvented by a people so ignorant and illiterate as the modern Indian,and contends that they obviously bear all the distinctive marks of alanguage of culture. He further declares that one of the Chickasawprophets,the Loache, assured him that they[403] had once had an "oldbeloved speech," which in the course of time and national degenerationthey had lost. In this connection, but entirely apart from all Hebraicanalogies, one is moved to wonder if there were also among them areminiscence of an "old beloved character," and if the extraordinaryinvention of the Cherokee character of the "syllabic alphabet" by theIndian, Guest, early in the present century, partly partakes of thenature of tradition.

3 Page 22. The high value which the French government placed on theservices of these allies may be inferred from a remark which has comedown from a council of state, in reference to their conduct in thisbattle: "Quoique je n'approuve pas qu'on mange les morts, cependant ilne faut pas quereller avec ces bonnêtes gens pour des bagatelles."

4 Page 38. Among others bearing witness to these strange relics, TimothyFlint says, in hisHistory and Geography of the Mississippi Valley:"In this state [Tennessee] burying grounds have been found where theskeletons seem all to have been pigmies. The graves in which the bodieswere deposited are seldom more than two feet or two feet and a half inlength. To obviate the objection that these are all the bodies ofchildren, it is affirmed that the skulls are found to have possessed thedentes sapientiæ and must have belonged to persons of mature age. Thetwo bodies that were found in the vast limestone cavern in Tennessee,one of which I saw at Lexington, were neither of them more than fourfeet high; the hair seemed to have been sandy, or inclining to yellow.It is well known that nothing is so uniform in the present Indian as hislank, black hair. From the pains taken to preserve the bodies, and thegreat labor of making the funeral robes in which they were folded, theymust have been of the 'blood royal' or personages of consideration intheir day." (Hayward, in his quaint and rareNatural and AboriginalHistory of Tennessee, referring to the curious method of interment, ina copperas cave, of two mummies, both of full size, however, arrayed infabrics of great beauty, evincing much mechanical skill in manu[404]facture,also mentions the hair on the heads of both as long, and of a yellowcast and a fine texture.) Webber, in hisRomance of Natural History,gives the size of the diminutive sarcophagi of the supposed pygmiesfound in Tennessee as three feet in length by eighteen inches in depth.Hayward also mentions the pygmy dwellers of Tennessee, and anotherwriter still, describing one of these singular graveyards of the "littlepeople," states that the bones were strong and well formed, and that oneof the skeletons had about its neck ninety-four pearls. The painfullyprosaic hypothesis of certain craniologists that such relics were onlythose of children is, of course, rejected by any person possessed of theresources of imagination.

5 Page 40. This name is also given in one or two instances as Dejean,and several dates both earlier and later have been assigned to thedisastrous visit to Choté to which reference is here made.

6 Page 82. Washington readily recognized the futility of the cumbrousregular military methods in a rough, unsettled country. On the Forbesexpedition, to counteract the French and their Indian allies, Washingtoncontinually sent out small parties of the Cherokees under his command."Small parties of Indians," said he, "will more effectually harass theenemy by keeping them under continual alarms than any parties of whitemen can do." However, "with all his efforts," says Irving, "he was neverable to make the officers of the regular army appreciate the importanceof Indian allies in these campaigns in the wilderness." But the fact hasbeen taught elsewhere, both earlier and later than Washington's day.General Gordon, in his journal, says of the Soudan: "A heavy lumberingcolumn is nowhere in this land. Parties of forty or sixty men movingswiftly about will do more than any column. Native allies, above allthings, at whatever cost. It is the country of the irregular, not of theregular. I can say I owe the defeats in this country to having artillerywith me, which delayed me much, and it was the artillery with Hickswhich in my opinion did for him." And as if he himself merely turnedback a leaf instead[405] of the pages of centuries, he here inserts anextract from Herodotus: "Cambyses marched against the Ethiopians withoutmaking any provision for the subsistence of his army or once consideringthat he was going to carry his arms to the remotest parts of the world,but as a madman ... before the army had passed over a fifth of the wayall the provisions were exhausted, and the beasts of burden wereeaten.... Now if Cambyses had then led his army back he would haveproved himself a wise man. He, however, went on ... the report was thatheaps of sand covered them over, and they disappeared." Gordon comments,"Hicks' army disappeared. The expedition was made into these lands."

7 Page 137. This pride flourished probably too far on the frontier to bedeteriorated by the knowledge of the gradual decline in the popularityof the periwig then in progress, for only a few years later thewig-makers of London found it necessary to petition the king, settingforth their distresses occasioned by the perversity of the men of hisrealm in persisting in wearing their own hair. The most definite outcomeof this proceeding was the sprightly travesty of the petition, appearingin theGentleman's Magazine on behalf of the carpenters, entreatinghis majesty to wear a wooden leg himself, and to require this of all hissubjects, since otherwise the advent of peace bade fair to ruin thejoiner's trade in wooden legs.

8 Page 148. The Duke of Cumberland has never been considered what isprettily called a "lovely character." His temperament, which would noteven brook that certain gentlemen, whom he denominated with a profaneadjective "old women," should talk to him "about humanity" (and it maybe said in passing that these hopeful "old women" were most obviouslycondemned to disappointment at least), his rigid discipline of his owntroops, and his unparalleled brutality to the enemy, leave the devotionexhibited for him by his soldiers to be accounted for only by theadmiration which they felt for his personal courage, which was verygreat, and of which Walpole tells a good story about this time,—ofcourse before the days of anæsthetics: "The Duke of Cumber[406]land is quiterecovered after an incision of many inches into his knee. Ranby [thesurgeon] did not dare to propose that a hero should be tied, but wasfrightened out of his senses when the herowould hold the candlehimself, which none of his generals could bear to do: in the middle ofthe operation the Duke said 'Hold!' Ranby said, 'For God's sake, Sir,let me proceed now—it will be worse to renew it.' The Duke repeated, 'Isay, hold!' and then calmly bade them give Ranby a clean waistcoat andcap; 'for,' said he, 'the poor man has sweated through these.' It wastrue; but the Duke did not utter a groan."

9 Page 168. It is with a renewal of confidence in the better aspects ofhuman nature, and the genuineness of such sanctions as control civilizedwar that we realize that the French and English officers encounteringdangers so far transcending legitimate perils as those pervading Indianfighting manifested individually, now and again, a true and soldierlysympathy with one another, and sought to protect the helpless in theirpower, often liberating those exposed to torture at the hands of theirsavage allies. For the methods of the Indians were by no meansameliorated by association with their civilized comrades, and they couldscarcely be held subject to any control. Washington himself, whosecapacity in authority amounted to a special genius, even when only ayoung provincial officer, could not restrain his Indian allies fromscalping the slain, and in several instances it required his utmostexertions to prevent a like fate from befalling his own livingprisoners.

10 Page 217. Governor Lyttleton on the request of Atta-Kulla-Kullareleased Oconostota, Fiftoe, the chief warrior of Keowee Town, and thehead warrior of Estatoe, who the next day surrendered two other Indiansto be held as substitutes. Although it has been generally said thatthere were twenty-two hostages, only twenty-one seem to have beendetained, and it is therefore possible that Oconostota was liberatedwithout exchange, on account of his position and influence in the tribe,being always known as the "Great Warrior." The names of the hostagesdetained are as follows: Chenohe, Ousanatanah, Tallichama, Tallitahe,Quar[407]rasatahe, Connasaratah, Kataetoi, Otassite of Watogo, Ousanoletahof Jore, Kataletah of Cowetche, Chisquatalone, Skiagusta of Sticoe,Tanaesto, Wohatche, Wyejah, Oucachistanah, Nicolche, Tony, Toatiahoi,Shallisloske, and Chistie.

11 Page 236. Bancroft says this detached force comprised six hundredHighlanders and six hundred Royal Americans. Adair says it consisted oftwelve hundred Highlanders. Other historians add to this number a bodyof grenadiers. Hewatt, who writes almost contemporaneously, publishingin 1779, and who was a resident of Charlestown, where the force landedand whence it departed, states that it consisted of a battalion ofHighlanders and four companies of the Royal Scots, and it was therejoined by a company of South Carolina Volunteers. He further mentionsthat upon Colonel Montgomery's return to New York he left four companiesof his force in Charlestown, upon the urgent request of the governor andassembly, to aid the defense of the Carolina frontier, and that thesewere of the royal regiment under the command of Major FrederickHamilton. The Royal Scots, being one of the oldest and most celebratedof military organizations, has the peculiar claim on the considerationof all the world, that having been the body-guard of King Louis XI. ofFrance, the renowned Scottish Archers, it must surely bear on theancient and illustrious rolls the ever-cherished name of QuentinDurward, for are we not told that the venerable commander of the guard,Lord Crawford, entered it there himself? And if it is not now to beseen, why—so much the worse for the ancient and illustrious rolls!

12 Page 261. The personal vanity of the Cherokees was so great thatafter discovering the functions of a mirror the men were never withoutone. Even in their most unimpeded war-trim they carried a mirror slungover one shoulder and consulted it from time to time with pleasuredoubtless. When the small-pox broke out among them, those whoseappearance had suffered from that disease could not endure to survivetheir disfigurement, and promptly took their own lives, althoughsuicides were buried without the highly esteemed honors usually paid tothe dead.[408]

13 Page 366. The temperament of Atta-Kulla-Kulla seems far more complexthan the simple traits attributed usually to untrained character. Apartfrom his savage craft, courage, and a sort of natural eloquence which heshared with his tribe, the close discernment shown in some of hisspeeches still extant, his magnanimity, his capacity to receive andassimilate new impressions, his diplomatic talents, all suggest aversatile mind, and he also possessed a caustic wit to which he was wontto give rein touching the oft-broken promises of one of the governors ofSouth Carolina, from whom it is related he had received many letterswhich he said "were not agreeable to the old beloved speech." He keptthem regularly piled in a bundle in the order in which he had receivedthem, and often showed them. "'The first,' he used to say, 'contained alittle truth,' and he would devise fantastic excuses for the failureof the rest of it, urging the governor's perplexing rush of officialbusiness which had occasioned him to forget his strong promises. 'Butcount,' said he, 'the lying black marks of this one'—and he woulddescant minutely on every circumstance of it." His patience, he woulddeclare, was exhausted, and he felt that the letters were "nothing butan heap of broad black papers and ought to be burnt in the old year'sfire." The old year's fire was a symbol of departed values, the newyear's fire being kindled with great ceremony by the Cheera-taghe, orprophets, "men of the divine fire."

14 Page 386. It is pleasant to know that this strong friendship sufferedno diminution by reason of time and distance. Bartram relates that whenhe traveled in the Cherokee country in 1773 he met descending theheights a company of Indians all well mounted on horses. "I observed achief at the head of the caravan, and as they came up I turned off fromthe path to make way in token of respect, which compliment was acceptedand gracefully and magnanimously returned, for his highness, with agracious and cheerful smile, came up to me and clapping his hand on hisbreast offered it to me, saying, 'I am Ata-Cul-Culla,' and heartilyshook hands with me, and asked me if I knew it. I answered that the[409]good spirit who goes before me spoke to me and said 'that is the greatAta-Cul-Culla.'" The chief then asked him if he came direct fromCharlestown, and if his friend John Stuart were well. Mr. Bartram wasable to his great pleasure to reply that he had seen John Stuart veryrecently, and that he was well.

15 Page 386. French emissaries were shortly in the vicinity of thisfort. At a great meeting of the Cherokee nation the indefatigable LouisLatinac struck a hatchet into a log, crying out, "Who will take up thisfor the king of France?" Saloué, the young warrior of Estatoe, instantlylaid hold of it, exclaiming, "I am for war!" And in indorsement of thiscompact many tomahawks were brandished, already red with British blood.

16 Page 397. As an interesting example of the appropriate and successfulmethod to address barbarous peoples, the historian Hewatt gives entirethe text of a speech to several tribes of Indians which Stuart, in hiscapacity of superintendent of Indian affairs for the South, delivered ata general congress at Mobile, attended by Governor Johnstone and manyBritish officers and soldiers. It is strikingly apt, and despite thefigurative language for which the Indians had so strong a preference, itis direct and simple, bold yet conciliatory, dignified in tone, but witha very engaging air of extreme candor, and it may be that Stuart'sinfluence over them lay chiefly in fair and impartial measures and thefaithful performance of promises. Among the writers of that date he israrely mentioned without some reference to his mental ability, whichseems to have been very marked, or to the exact and strict fidelity withwhich he followed the letter and spirit of his instructions. A certainfling, however, by one who had wanted the office to which Stuart wasafterward appointed is so deft a bit of character-drawing in few wordsthat, regardless of its obvious spite, it is worth repeating,—"ahaughty person, devoted to parade, and a proud uniform."

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"The officers expressed their earnest remonstrances" (see page 198)	Frontispiece
	Facing page
"What more wonderful? What more fearful?"	16
"The canoe rocked in the swirls"	54
"And oh, the moment of housewifely pride!"	128
"Plunging through the gate and half across the parade ground"	240
Belinda and the Ensign on the moonlit rampart	252
"The men had been hastily formed into a square"	346
"He stared forward blankly at the inevitable prospect"	376

Movatterモバイル変換

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Story of Old Fort Loudon

Transcriber's note

The Story

of

Old Fort Loudon

Illustrations

The Story of Old Fort Loudon

CHAPTER I

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER XIII

NOTES

Transcriber's note

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

Movatterモバイル変換

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Story of Old Fort Loudon

Transcriber's note

The StoryofOld Fort Loudon

Illustrations

The Story of Old Fort Loudon

CHAPTER I

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER XIII

NOTES

Transcriber's note

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Story

of

Old Fort Loudon