The Young Trailers: A Story of Early Kentucky

  CHAPTER XII

  THE PRIMITIVE MAN

  When Henry came back to his world he was lying upon the ground, with hishead against a log, and about him was a circle of brown faces, cold,hard, expressionless and apparently devoid of human feeling; pity andmercy seemed to be unknown qualities there. But the boy met them with agaze as steady as their own, and then he glanced quickly around thecircle. There was no other prisoner and he saw no ghastly trophy; thenhis comrades had escaped, and, deep satisfaction in his heart, he lethis head fall back upon the log. They could do now as they chose withhim, and whatever it might be he felt that he had no cause to fear it.

  Three other warriors came in presently, and Henry judged that all theparty were now gathered there. He was still lying near the river onwhose banks he had been struck down, and the shifting clouds let themoonlight fall upon him. He put his hand to his head where it ached, andwhen he took it away, there was blood on his fingers. He inferred that aheavy blow had been dealt to him with the flat of a tomahawk, but withthe stained fingers he made a scornful gesture. One of the warriors,apparently a chief, noticed the movement, and he muttered a word or twowhich seemed to have the note of approval. Henry rose to his feet andthe chief still regarded him, noting the fearless look, and the hint ofsurpassing physical powers soon to come. He put his hand upon the boy'sshoulder and pointed toward the north and west. Henry understood him.His life was to be spared for the present, at least, and he was to gowith them into the northwest, but to what fate he knew not.

  One of the warriors bathed his head, and put upon it a lotion of leaveswhich quickly drove away the pain. Henry suffered his ministrations withprimitive stoicism, making no comment and showing no interest.

  At a word from the leader they took up their silent march, skirting theriver for a while until they came to a shallow place, where they fordedit, and buried themselves again in the dark forest. They passed amongits shades swiftly, silently and in single file, Henry near the middleof the column, his figure in the dusk blending into the brown of theirs.He had completely recovered his strength, and, save for the separationfrom his friends and their consequent wonder and sorrow, he would nothave grieved over the mischance. Instinct told him--perhaps it was hisyouth, perhaps his ready adaptability that appealed to his captors--thathis life was safe--and now he felt a keen curiosity to know the outcome.It seemed to him too that without any will of his own he was about tobegin the vast wanderings that he had coveted.

  Hour after hour the silent file trod swiftly on into the northwest, noone speaking, their footfalls making no sound on the soft earth. Themoonlight deepened again, and veiled the trunks and branches in ghostlysilver or gray. By and by it grew darker and then out of the blacknesscame the first shoot of dawn. A shaft of pale light appeared in theeast, then broadened and deepened, bringing in its trail, in terraceafter terrace, the red and gold of the rising sun. Then the light sweptacross the heavens and it was full day.

  They were yet in the forest and the dawn was cold. Here and there in theopen spaces and on the edges of the brown leaves appeared the whitegleam of frost. The rustle of the woods before the western wind waschilly in the ear. But Henry was without sign of fatigue or cold. Hewalked with a step as easy and as tireless as that of the strongestwarrior in the band, and at all times he held himself, as if he were oneof them, not their prisoner.

  About an hour after dawn the party which numbered fifteen men halted ata signal from the chief and began to eat the dried meat of the buffalo,taken from their pouches. They gave him a good supply of the food, andhe found it tough but savory. Hunger would have given a sufficient sauceto anything and as he ate in a sort of luxurious content he studied hiscaptors with the advantage of the daylight. The full sunshine disclosedno more of softness and mercy than the night had shown. The featureswere immobile, the eyes fixed and hard, but when the gaze of any one ofthem, even the chief, met the boy's it was quickly turned. There wasabout them something furtive, something of the lower kingdom of theanimals. That inherited primitive instinct, recently flaming up withsuch strength in him, did not tell him that they were his full brethren.But he did not hate them, instead they interested him.

  After eating they rested an hour or more in the covert of a thicket andHenry saw the beautiful day unfold. The sunshine was dazzling in itsglory, the crisp wind made one's blood sparkle like a tonic, and it wasgood merely to live. A vast horizon inclosed only the peace of thewilderness.

  The chief said some words to Henry, but the boy could understand none ofthem, and he shook his head. Then the chief took the rifle that hadbelonged to the captive, tapped it on the barrel and pointed toward thesoutheast. Henry nodded to indicate that he had come from that point,and then smiling swept the circle of the northwestern horizon with hishands. He meant to say that he would go with them without resistance,for the present, at least, and the chief seemed to understand, as hisface relaxed into a look of comprehension and even of good nature.

  Their march was resumed presently and as before it was straight into thenorthwest. They passed out of the forest crossed the Ohio in hiddencanoes and entered a region of small but beautiful prairies, cut byshallow streams, which they waded with undiminished speed. Henry beganto suspect that the band came from some very distant country, and washastening so much in order not to be caught on the hunting grounds ofrival tribes. The northwesterly direction that they were followingconfirmed him in this belief.

  All the day passed on the march but shortly after the night came on andthey had eaten a little more of the jerked meat, they lay down in athicket, and Henry, unmindful of his captivity, fell in a few minutesinto a sleep that was deep, sweet and dreamless. He did not know thenthat before he was asleep long the chief took a robe of tanned deerskinand threw it over him, shielding his body from the chill autumn night.In the morning shortly before he awoke the chief took away the robe.

  That day they came to a mighty river and Henry knew that the yellowstream was that of the Mississippi. The Indians dragged from thesheltering undergrowth two canoes, in which the whole party paddled upstream until nightfall, when they hid the canoes again in the foliage onthe western shore, and then encamped on the crest. They seemed to feelthat they were out of danger now as they built a fine fire and thecaptive basked in its warmth.

  Henry had not made the slightest effort to escape, nor had he indicatedany wish to do so, finding his reward in the increased freedom which thewarriors gave to him. He had never been bound and now he could walk ashe chose in a limited area about the camp. But he did not avail himselfof the privilege, for the present, preferring to sit by the fire, wherehe saw pictures of Wareville and those whom he loved. Then he had aswift twinge of conscience. When they heard they would grieve deep andlong for him and one, his mother, would never forget. He should havesought more eagerly to escape, and he glanced quickly about him, butthere was no chance. However careless the warriors might seem there wasalways one between him and the forest. He resigned himself with a sighbut had he thought how quickly the pain passed his conscience would havehurt him again. Now he felt much comfort where he sat; the night wasreally cold, bitingly cold, and it was a glorious fire. As he sat beforeit and basked in its radiance he felt the glorious physical joy thatmust have thrilled some far-away primeval ancestor, as he hugged thecoals in his cave after coming in from the winter storm.

  Henry had the best place by the fire and a warrior who was sitting wherehis back was exposed to the wind moved over and shoved him away. Henrywithout a word smote him in the face with such force that the man fellflat and Henry thrust him aside, resuming his original position. Thewarrior rose to his feet and rubbed his bruised face, looking doubtfullyat the boy who sat in such stolid silence, staring into the coals andpaying no further attention to his opponent. The Indian never uses hisfists, and his hand strayed to the handle of his tomahawk; then, as itstrayed away again he sat down on the far side of the fire, and he toobegan to stare stolidly into the red coals. The chief, Black Cloud,bestowed on both a look of approva
l, but uttered no comment.

  Presently Black Cloud gave some orders to his men and they lay down tosleep, but the chief took the deerskin robe and handed it to Henry. Hismanner was that of one making a gift, and a gesture confirmed theimpression. Henry took the robe which he would need and thanked thechief in words whose meaning the donor might gather from the tone. Thenhe lay down and slept as before a dreamless sleep all through the night.

  Their journey lasted many days and every hour of it was full of interestto Henry, appealing alike to his curiosity and its gratification. He waslaunched upon the great wandering and he found in it both the glamourand the reality that he wished, the reality in the rivers and theforests and the prairies that he saw, and the glamour in the hope ofother and greater rivers and forests and prairies to come.

  Indian summer was at hand. All the woods were dyed in vivid colors, redsand yellows and browns, and glowed with dazzling hues in the intensesunlight. Often the haze of Indian summer hung afar and softened everyoutline. Henry's feeling that he was one of the band grew stronger, andthey, too, began to regard him as their own. His freedom was extendedmore and more and with astonishing quickness he soon picked up enoughwords of their dialect to make himself intelligible. They took him withthem, when they turned aside for hunting expeditions, and he waspermitted now and then to use his own rifle. Only six men in the bandhad guns, and two of these guns were rifles the other four beingmuskets. Henry soon showed that he was the best marksman among them andrespect for him grew. The Indian whom he knocked down was slightly goredby a stag when only Henry was near, but Henry slew the stag, bound upthe man's wound and stayed by him until the others came. The warrior,Gray Fox, speedily became one of his best friends.

  Henry's enjoyment became more intense; all the trammels of civilizationwere now thrown aside, he never thought of the morrow because the daywith its interests was sufficient, and from his new friends he learnedfresh lore of the forest with marvelous rapidity; they taught him how totrail, to take advantage of every shred of cover and to make signals byimitating the cry of bird or beast. Once they were caught in ahailstorm, when it turned bitterly cold, but he endured it as well asthe best of them, and made not a single complaint.

  They came at last to their village, a great distance west of theMississippi, a hundred lodges perhaps, pitched in a warm and shelteredvalley and the boy, under the fostering care of Black Cloud, wasformally adopted into the tribe, taking up at once the thread of his newlife, and finding in it the same keen interest that had marked all thestages of the great journey.

  The climate here was colder than that from which he had come, andwinter, with fierce winds from the Great Plains was soon upon them. Butthe camp which was to remain there until spring was well chosen and thesteep hills about them fended off the worst of the blast. Yet the snowcame soon in great, whirling flakes and fell all one night. The nextmorning the boy saw the world in white and he found it singularlybeautiful. The snow he did not mind as clothing of dressed skins hadbeen given to him and he had a warm buffalo robe for a blanket. Now,young as he was, he became one of the best hunters for the village andwith the others he roamed far over the snowy hills in search of game.Many were the prizes that fell to his steady aim and eye, chief amongthem the deer, the bear and the buffalo.

  His fame in the village grew fast, and it would be hiding the fact todeny that he enjoyed it. The wild rough life with its limitless rangeover time and space appealed to every instinct in him, and his new fameas a tireless and skillful hunter was very sweet to him. He thought ofhis people and Wareville, it is true, but he consoled himself again withthe belief that they were well and he would return to them when thechance came, and then he plunged all the deeper and with all the morezest into his new life which had so many fascinations. At Warevillethere were certain bounds which he must respect, certain weights whichhe must carry, but here he was free from both.

  Meanwhile his body thrived at a prodigious rate. One could almost seehim grow. There was not a warrior in the village who was as strong ashe, and already he surpassed them all in endurance; none was so fleet offoot nor so tireless. His face and hair darkened in the wind and sun,his last vestige of civilized garb had disappeared long ago, and he wasclothed wholly in deerskin. His features grew stronger and keener andthe eyes were incessantly watchful, roving hither and thither, coveringevery point within range. It would have taken more than a casual glancenow to discover that he was white.

  The winter deepened. The snow was continuous, fierce blasts blew in fromthe distant western plains and even searched out their sheltered valley.The old men and the women shivered in the lodges, but sparkling youngblood and tireless action kept the boy warm and flourishing through itall. Game grew scarce about them and the hunters went far westward insearch of the buffalo.

  Henry was with the party that traveled farthest toward the setting sun,and it was long before they returned. Winter was at its height and whenthey came out of the forest into the waving open stretches which are theGreat Plains all things were hidden by the snow.

  Henry from the summit of a little hill saw before him an expanse asmighty as the sea, and like it in many of its aspects. They told himthat it rolled away to the westward, no man knew how far, as none ofthem had ever come to the end of it. In summer it was covered with life.Here grew thick grass and wild flowers and the buffalo passed inmillions.

  It inspired in Henry a certain awe and yet by its very vagueness andimmensity it attracted. Just as he had wished to explore the secrets ofthe forest he would like now to tread the Great Plains and find whatthey held.

  They turned toward the southwest in search of buffalo and were caught ina great storm of wind and hail. The cold was bitter and the wind cut tothe bone. They were saved from freezing to death only by digging a rudeshelter through the snow into the side of a hill, and there theycrouched for two days with so little food left in their knapsacks, thatwithout game, they would perish, in a week, of hunger, if the cold didnot get the first chance. The most experienced hunters went forth, butreturned with nothing, thankful for so little a mercy as the ability toget back to their half-shelter.

  Henry at last took his rifle and ventured out alone--the others were toolistless to stop him--and before the noon hour he found a buffalo bull,some outcast from the herd which had gone southward, struggling in thesnow. The bull was old and lean, and it took two bullets to bring himdown, but his death meant their life and Henry hurried to the camp withthe joyful news. It was clearly recognized that he had saved them, butno one said anything and Henry was glad of their silence.

  When the storm ceased they renewed their journey toward the south with aplentiful supply of food and not long afterwards the snow began to melt.Under the influence of a warm wind out of the southwest it disappearedwith marvelous quickness; one day the earth was all white, and the nextit was all brown. The warm wind continued to blow, and then fainttouches of green began to appear in the dead grass; there were delicateodors, the breath of the great warm south, and they knew that spring wasnot far away.

  In a week they ran into the buffalo herd, a mighty black mass of movingmillions. The earth rumbled hollowly under the tread of a myriad feet,and the plain was black with bodies to the horizon and beyond.

  They killed as many of the buffalo as they wished and after the fashionof the more northerly Indians reduced the meat to pemmican. Then, eachman bearing as much as he could conveniently carry, they began theirswift journey homeward, not knowing whether they would arrive in timefor the needs of the village.

  Henry felt a deep concern for these new friends of his who were leftbehind in the valley. He shared the anxiety of the others who fearedlest they would be too late and that fact reconciled him to the retreatfrom the Great Plains, whose mysteries he longed to unravel.

  As they went swiftly eastward the spring unfolded so fast that it seemedto Henry to come with one great jump. They were now in the forests andeverywhere the trees were laden with fresh buds, in all the open spacesthe young grass was springi
ng up, and the brooks, as if rejoicing intheir new freedom from the ice-bound winter, ran in sparkling littlestreams between green banks.

  The physical world was full of beauty to him, more so than ever becausehis power of feeling it had grown. During the winter and by thetriumphant endurance of so many hardships his form had expanded and thetide of sparkling blood had risen higher. Although a captive he wasregarded in a sense as the leader of the hunting party; it was obvious,in the deference that the others, though much older, showed to him andhe knew that only his resource, courage and endurance had saved them allfrom death. A song of triumph was singing in his veins.

  They found the village at the edge of starvation despite the approach ofspring; two or three of the older people had died already of weakness,and their supplies arrived just in time to relieve the crisis. Therewere willing tongues to tell of his exploits, and Henry soon perceivedthat he was a hero to them all and he enjoyed it, because it was naturalto him to be a leader, and he loved to breathe the air of approbation.Yet as they valued him more they grew more jealous of him, and theywatched him incessantly, lest he should take it into his head to flee tothe people who were once his own. Henry saw the difficulty and again itsoothed his conscience by showing to him that he could not do what heyet had a lingering feeling that he ought to do.

  Good luck seemed to come in a shower to the village with the return ofthe hunting party. Spring leaped suddenly into full bloom, and the woodsbegan to swarm with game. It was the most plentiful season that theoldest man could recall, there was no hunter so lazy and so dull that hecould not find the buffalo and the deer.

  Then the band, with the spirit of irresponsible wandering upon it, tookdown its lodges and traveled slowly into the north farther and fartherfrom the little settlement away down in Kentucky. There was peace amongthe tribes and they could go as they chose. They came at last to theshores of a mighty lake, Superior, and here when Henry looked out uponan expanse of water, as limitless to the eyes as the sea, he felt thesame thrill of awe that had passed through his veins when the GreatPlains lay outspread before him. As it was now midsummer and the forestscrackled in the heat they lingered long by the deep cool waters of thelake. Here white traders, Frenchmen speaking a tongue unknown to Henry,came to them with rifles, ammunition and bright-colored blankets totrade for furs. More than one of them saw and admired the tall powerfulyoung warrior with the singularly watchful eyes but not one of them knewthat under his paint and tan he was whiter than themselves; instead theytook him to be the wildest of the wild.

  Henry's heart had throbbed a little at the first sight of them, but itwas only for a moment, then it beat as steadily as ever; white likehimself they might be, but they were of an alien race; their speech wasnot his speech, their ways not his ways and he turned from them. He wasglad when they were gone.

  Toward the end of summer they went south again and wandered idly throughpleasant places. It was still a full season with wild fruits hangingfrom the trees and game everywhere. There had been no sickness in thelittle tribe and they basked in physical content. It was now a carelesseasy life with the stimulus of wandering and hunting and all the oldprimeval instincts in Henry, made stronger by habit, were gratified. Hefell easily into the ways of his friends; when there was nothing to dohe could sit for hours looking at the forests and the streams and thesunshine, letting his soul steep in the glory of it all. To his otherqualities he now added that of illimitable patience. He could wait forwhat he wished as the Eskimo sits for days at the air hole until theseal appears.

  In their devious wanderings they kept a general course toward the valleyin which they had passed the first winter, intending to renew their campthere during the cold weather, but autumn, as they intended, was at handbefore they reached it. They were yet a long distance north and west oftheir valley when they were threatened by a danger with which they hadnot reckoned. A local tribe claimed that the band was infringing upontheir hunting grounds and began war with a treacherous attack upon ahunting party.

  The war was not long but the few hundreds who took part in it shared allthe passions and fierce emotions of two great nations in conflict. Henrywas in the thick of it, first alike in attack and defense, superior tothe Indians themselves in wiles and cunning. Several of the hostiletribe fell at his hand, although he could not take a scalp, the remnantsof his early training forbidding it. But once or twice he was ashamed ofthe weakness. The hostile party was triumphantly beaten off with greatloss to itself and Henry and his friends pursued their journey leisurelyand triumphantly. Now besides being a great hunter he was a greatwarrior too.