The Forest Runners: A Story of the Great War Trail in Early Kentucky by Altsheler (books for 20 year olds .TXT) 📗

the black and dripping forest. After that Paul heard nothing, but to the keener ears of Henry came now and then the soft, sliding sound of rapid footsteps, a word or two uttered low, and the faint swish of bushes, swinging back into place after a body passed. He knew that the warriors were now seeking eagerly for them, but with the aid of the intense darkness he hoped that he and Paul would steal safely through their lines. They went slowly forward for perhaps half an hour, stopping often and listening. Once Henry's hand on Paul's shoulder, they sank a little lower in the bushes, and Henry, but not Paul, saw the shadowy outline of a figure passing near.

Fortunately the forest was very dense, but unfortunately the clouds began to thicken, and a rumble dull and low came from the far horizon. Then the clouds parted, cut squarely down the middle by a flash of lightning, and for a moment a dazzling glow of light played over the dripping forest. Everything was revealed by it, every twig and leaf stood out in startling distinctness, and Paul, by impulse, sank lower to hide himself among the bushes.

The glow vanished and Henry had seen nothing; he was sure, too, that no one had seen them, but he knew that it was only luck; another flash might reveal them, and he and Paul must now hasten, taking the chances of discovery by noise. He spoke a word to his comrade, and they plunged more rapidly through the undergrowth. The thunder kept up an unceasing and threatening murmur on the far horizon, and the lightning flared fitfully now and then, but they were still unseen, and Henry hoped that they had now passed the ring of savages in the forest and the dusk.

Paul had dropped back from Henry's side, but was following closely behind him. He was deeply impressed by a situation so extraordinary for one of his type. The thunder, the lightning, the darkness and the danger contained for him all the elements of awe and mystery.

"I think we've shaken them off," said Henry presently, "and unless the lightning shows us to some stray member of the band they can't pick up our trail again before morning."

Paul was grateful for the assurance, and he noticed, too, that the danger of the lightning's revelation was decreasing, as the flashes were becoming less frequent and vivid. His breathing now grew easier and his spirits rose. Much of the gloom departed from the forest. The thunder that had kept up a continuous low rolling, like a dirge, died away, and the lightning, after a few more weak and ineffectual flashes, ceased.

"We won't have any further trouble to-night, that's sure," said Henry. "They could not possibly find our trail before day, and I think we'd better push on, as nearly as we can, in the direction of our hidden powder. You know we still mean to do what we started out to do."

They traveled all night, with brief periods of rest, through rough and densely wooded country. Toward morning the rain ceased, and the clouds all floated away. The stars came out in a clear sky, and a warm wind blew over the wet forest. Henry looked more than once at Paul, and his look was always full of sympathy. Paul's face was pale, but his expression was set in firm resolve, and Henry knew that he would never yield.

After a while the dark began to lighten, and Henry stopped short in surprise. Paul was walking in such automatic fashion that he almost ran against him before he stopped. Henry pointed with a long forefinger to a red spot deep in the forest.

"See that?" he said.

"Yes, I guess it's the sun rising," said Paul, who was staggering a little, and who saw through a cloud, as it were.

Henry looked at him and laughed.

"The sun!" he said. "Well, Paul, it's the first time I ever knew the sun to rise in the west."

"The sun's likely to do anything out here where we are," rejoined Paul.

"That's a fire, a camp fire, Paul," said Henry, "and I'm thinking it must be made by white men."

"White men! Friends!" exclaimed Paul. He stood up straight, and his eyes grew brighter. An hour or two ago it had scarcely seemed possible to him that they should ever see white faces again.

"It's only my belief," said Henry. "We've got to make sure. Now, you wait here, Paul, and I'll do a little bit of scouting. Sit down among those bushes there and I'll be back soon."

Paul was fully content to do what Henry said. He found a good place in a thick clump of underbrush, and sank down easily. He would have been quite willing to lie down, because he was terribly tired and sleepy, but with an effort he held himself to a sitting posture and watched Henry. He was conscious of a vague admiration as the tall form of his comrade went forward swiftly, making no noise and hiding itself so quickly in the forest that he could not tell where it had gone.

Then Paul was conscious of a great peace, and a heavy tugging at his eyelids. Never in his life before was he so tired and sleepy. The last raindrop was gone, and the bushes and grass were drying in the gentle wind. A fine golden sun was bringing with it a silver dawn, and a pleasant warmth stole all through him. His head sank back a little more and his elbow found a soft place in the turf.

The boy, with his half-closed eyes and pale face, was not alone as he lay there among the bushes. Little neighbors came and looked at the newcomer. A hare gazed solemnly at him for a moment or two, and then hopped solemnly away. A bluebird flew down to the very tip of a bough, surveyed him at leisure, and then flew off in search of food. Neither hare nor bird was scared. Tiny creeping things scuttled through the grass, but the boy did not move, and they scuttled on undisturbed.

Paul was just sinking away into a pleasant unknown land when a shout brought him back to earth. He sprang to his feet, and there was Henry returning through the forest.

"Friends, Paul! Old friends!" he cried. "Up with you and we'll pay 'em a surprise visit!"

Paul shook his head to clear his thoughts, and followed Henry. Henry walked swiftly now, not seeming to care whether or not he made noise, and Paul followed him toward the fire, which now rapidly grew larger.

CHAPTER VI

THE BATTLE ON THE HILL

Six men were sitting around a camp fire, and they showed every sign of comfort and cheerfulness. It was a big fire, a glowing fire, a warm fire, and it took all trace of damp from the rain or cold of the autumn morning. They were just having breakfast, and their food was buffalo hump, very tender as it came from beneath a huge bed of red-hot embers.

The men seemed to have no fear of an enemy, perhaps because their fire was in an open space, too far from the forest for the rifle shot of an ambushed foe to reach them. Perhaps, too, they felt security in their numbers and valor, because they were certainly a formidable-looking party. All were stalwart, dressed in wilderness fashion—that is, in tanned deerskin—and every one carried the long, slender-barreled Kentucky rifle, with knife and hatchet at his belt. There was Tom Ross, the guide, of middle years, with a powerful figure and stern, quiet face, and near him lounged a younger man in an attitude of the most luxurious and indolent ease, Shif'less Sol Hyde, who had attained a great reputation for laziness by incessantly claiming it for himself, but who was nevertheless a hunter and scout of extraordinary skill. Jim Hart, a man of singular height and thinness, whom Sol disrespectfully called the "Saplin'"—that is, the sapling, a slim young tree—was doing the cooking. The others were typical frontiersmen—lean, big of build, and strong.

The shiftless one curled himself into an easier position against a log, and regarded with interest a particularly juicy piece of the buffalo hump that lay on the grass some distance from him.

"Say, Saplin'," he drawled, "I wish you'd bring me that piece o' hump. I think it would just suit my teeth."

"Git it yourself," replied Saplin' indignantly. "Do you think I'm goin' to cook for a lazy bag o' bones like you, an' then wait on you, too?"

"Well, I think you might," said Shif'less Sol sorrowfully. "I'm pow'ful tired."

"If I wuz to wait on you when you wuz tired, I'd wait on you all my life."

"Which 'ud he puttin' yourself to a mighty good use," said Sol tolerantly. "But if you won't bring it to me, I reckon I'll have to go after it."

He rose, with every appearance of reluctance, and secured the buffalo meat. But he stood with it in his hand and regarded the forest to the east, from which two figures were coming. Ross had already seen them, but he had said nothing. The keen eyes of the shiftless one were not at fault for a moment.

"Paul Cotter an' Henry Ware," he said.

"Yes," said Tom Ross.

"And Paul's just about done up."

"Yes," said Tom Ross.

"Looks like they've had a big fight or a big run, one or t'other or both."

"Yes," said Tom Ross.

Then all went forward to meet the two boys, so well known to them. Paul was staggering a little, and there was a high color, as of fever, in his face, but Henry showed signs of neither fatigue nor excitement.

"We're glad to find you," said Henry briefly.

"We're glad, awful glad!" began Paul, with more fervor; but he suddenly reeled, and everything grew dim about him. Shif'less Sol caught him.

"Here, Paul," he said, "stand up. You're a heavy weight for a tired man to hold."

His words were rough, but his tone was kindly. Paul, all his pride aroused, made a great effort and stood straight again. Slowly the world about him swam back, into its proper position.

"Who said I wasn't standing up?" he asked.

"Nobody," replied Shif'less Sol; "but if I'd been through what I reckon you've been through, I'd fall flop on the ground, an' Jim Hart would have to come an' feed me or I'd starve to death right before his eyes."

Paul laughed, and then he felt more like himself. Ross, too, had been regarding him with sympathy, but he glanced inquiringly at Henry.

"You've had it hot an' hard?" he said.

"Yes," replied the boy laconically; "we've run against Shawnees, and about everything that could has happened to us."

"Then it's fire, warmth, meat, rest, an' sleep for Paul right away," said Ross.

Henry nodded.

Paul was looking at the fire, which seemed to him the most glorious one ever built, and he did not notice anything more until he was lying beside it, stretched on a blanket, and eating the very piece of tender buffalo meat that Shif'less Sol had coveted for himself. Despite his relaxed and half-dreamy condition, his imagination leaped up at once to magnificent heights. All danger and hardship were gone. He was surrounded by a ring of dauntless friends, and the fire glowed splendidly.

Shif'less Sol sat down near him, and regarded him with the deepest sympathy, mingled with a certain amount of envy.

"Paul," he said, "I wish I wuz in your place for an hour or two. They've jest got to wait on you. Nobody ever believes me when I say I'm sick, though I'm took pow'ful bad sometimes, an' they don't care whether I'm tired or not. Now, Paul, take all the advantages o' your position. Don't you reach your hand for a thing. Make 'em bring it to you. Ef I can't get waited on myself, I like to see another fellow waited on. Here, Saplin', some more o' that buffalo steak for Paul, who is mighty hungry."

Saplin' cast a look of scorn upon Shif'less Sol, but he brought the steak, and Paul ate again, for he was voraciously hungry. But one cannot eat always, and by and by he had enough. Then his restful, dreamy feeling grew. He saw Henry and the men talking, but he either did not hear what they said or he was not interested. Soon the whole world faded out, and he slept soundly. And as he slept the touch of fever left him. Shif'less Sol looked down at him kindly.

"I'm tired, too," he said, "but I suppose if I wuz to go to sleep some o' you 'ud be mean enough to shove me in the side with his foot."

"I'd try to be the first," said Jim Hart, "an' I'd shove pow'ful hard."

"It 'ud be jest