Ned in the Block-House: A Tale of Early Days in the West

  CHAPTER XIX.

  THE TUG OF WAR.

  The extinguishment of the burning roof, for the time, was complete.Utter darkness came like the blowing out of a candle in a vault.

  "The varmints know what it means!" muttered Jo Stinger, who made ahurried retreat along the roof toward the trap-door, which had beenthrown wide open in readiness for his reception.

  The Wyandots were quick to learn the cause of the sudden darkness, andthey opened a brisk fire on the roof. This necessarily was at random,and the scout dropped through to the floor, without so much as ascratch upon him.

  Colonel Preston and his friends would have felt like uttering a cheerover the success of Jo's boldness, but for the conviction that theworst was yet to come and was close at hand.

  One fact was so apparent that it caused a strengthening of hope: thewind, which had been blowing almost a gale from the south, hadfallen, so that the lull was perceptible. Should the Wyandots firethe cabin standing a short distance from the block-house, the flameswere not likely to communicate unless the gale appeared again.

  All was darkness once more. The wind soughed dismally through thetrees and moaned around the block-house, which was scorched and stillsmoking from the burning arrows of the Wyandots. The fine snowflakeswere still sifting downward, and far overhead was heard again the honkof wild geese flying to the milder regions of the south.

  From within the settler's cabin standing near the stockade came a dullglow, but there was no other sign of life that eye could detect. Andyet the block-house was environed by hostile red men, who were aseager as so many wolves to break into the fold.

  Colonel Preston, Jo Stinger, Megill, Turner, and the boys were at theloopholes watching and listening. Mrs. Preston alternated from theside of her children to that of her husband, exchanging words with thebrave man who had been so cramped in his movements for the last day ortwo that he was unable to do the service he wished to render hisfriends.

  The sounds of hurrying feet, the hoarse guttural exclamations and thebird-like signals showed that the Wyandots were near the fort. Theyhad taken advantage of the Egyptian darkness to steal up close to thesides of the building, where their presence could only be discoveredthrough some movement that made a noise sufficient to reach the earsof the listeners above.

  Several times the heavy log which they had dragged from the river bankwas carried stealthily up to within a few feet of the building, when,having located the door, they ran forward with the battering ram.Delivering the blow they dropped the log and scampered to escape theshots which were sent after them in the darkness.

  Now and then some of these bullets found their mark, and theassailants learned to their cost that it was not simple amusement onwhich they were engaged.

  Believing they had made some impression on the door, eight Wyandotsstole forward, lifted the tree-trunk from the ground, and steppedheavily and quietly backward several paces, where they paused togather breath for the fierce rush.

  At the very moment they had concentrated their strength and were inthe act of moving, a flaming arrow sped upward like a rocket from theother side the clearing, and, curving over, went a short distancebeyond the block-house, and, by a singular mischance, buried its headin the log, which was held above the ground and in the act of beingplunged against the door.

  The shaft stuck and the flaming twist of tow gave partial glimpses ofthe eight swarthy figures laboring toward the building with the timberbetween the two divisions. The knowledge that they were exposed to theaim of the Kentuckians, spread consternation among the Wyandots, whoreleased the burden so suddenly that it fell upon one warrior's foot.

  The pain was so acute that, like a civilized being, he caught theinjured member in both hands and danced round and round on the otherfoot, howling with torture, while the others skurried away in thedarkness, as though a bomb-shell had burst among them.

  The crack of several well-aimed rifles hastened the steps of thesefrightened warriors, and he who was nursing his bruised foot droppedit and limped off, with a haste that would have been impossible underother circumstances.

  This incident, which was not without its element of comedy, wasfollowed by a still more singular one.

  Despite the vigilance of the garrison, the Wyandots were constantlytempted to efforts which, it would seem, promised no success at all,and which exposed them to great danger from the rifles of theKentuckians.

  We have described the windows on the lower story of the block-house,which were without panes, long and so narrow that it was not deemedpossible that any person could force his body through.

  And yet there was one warrior who had probably spent most of the dayin considering the matter, and who concluded there was a chance forhim to succeed, where all others had failed.

  A peculiar noise on the lower floor led Colonel Preston to descend theladder to investigate. For some minutes he was unable to conjecturewhat the disturbance could mean, but the faint glow thrown out by theflaming arrow which drove its head into the log, showed that thewindow at the right of the front door was blocked up by an Indian,who was wedged fast, and unable to get in or out.

  He was struggling desperately, but could not extricate himself, andthe astounded commandant concluded that, if he was attenuated enoughto enter that far, he was probably capable of going still further, andmust be a curiosity in the way of bulk which was worth seeing.

  The Colonel shuddered to think what would have been the result if thissavage had secured an entrance. It would have taken him but a minuteor two to remove the fastenings of the door, when the whole horde offerocious red men would have swarmed in.

  The officer immediately ran forward and, catching the two arms of theintruder, pinioned them. Then he began pulling with might and main.That he might not throw away any strength, he placed both feet againstthe logs below the window, and, leaning back, threw all his energy inthe effort.

  So great was the force exerted that in all likelihood he would havesucceeded in drawing the exceedingly thin warrior through the window,had not a couple of friends, at the same moment, seized his legs,which were frantically beating vacancy, and commenced pulling withequal ardor in the opposite direction.

  The Wyandot was now as anxious to retreat as he had been to advance,and he strove to help his friends; but his efforts were so handicappedthat he gave them little if any assistance.

  The arrow which had burned so brightly for a minute or two expired, sothat all was darkness once more, and the singular tug of war went on.

  When Colonel Preston held his breath, compressed his lips and did hisutmost, he felt the Indian move forward several inches in response;but there were a couple fully as muscular, and inspired by as strongenthusiasm as the pioneer. The tug which they put forth brought thebrave back again, with probably a slight gain.

  The warriors at the heels had the additional advantage of thesympathies of the one over whom they were disputing, and who bid fairto become elongated to an alarming extent by this singularcontroversy. He kept twisting his hands in such a way that he brokethe hold of Colonel Preston more than once, while he quieted his legsso as to favor his friends all he could.

  The first flirt which the Indian made was so sudden and unexpectedthat the Colonel fell backwards on the floor; but he was up on theinstant, and grappled the sinewy arms again.

  "If this keeps on much longer," thought the officer, "something mustgive way. Suppose we should pull the rascal in two, with half insideand half out. That might be fair to us, but the Indian, consideredstrictly as an Indian, would not be of much account. I wonderwhether----"

  "Hello, Colonel, what's going on?"

  Jo Stinger had heard the singular disturbance, and, unable to guessits meaning, was hurrying down the ladder to inform himself.

  The exquisite absurdity of the situation caused a momentary reactionfrom the gloom which had oppressed Colonel Preston, and led him toreply--

  "I've got a red man here that we're using as a cross-cut saw, andwe've stretched him out to almost do
uble----"

  At that instant the individual referred to, knowing that all dependedon one supreme effort, wrenched his wrists loose and, like a flash,struck the Colonel such a blow in the face that he reeled backwardsalmost to the other side the room.

  The Wyandots at the other end of the line were reinforced at thecritical juncture by two others, who caught hold of their man whereverit was the most convenient, and the four gave a long pull, a strongpull, and a pull altogether, that was sure to accomplish somethingdefinite.

  Fortunately for the elongated Indian his legs were equal to thestrain, and he shot backward through the opening like the lady in theshow, who is fired from the giant cannon by the aid of springs alone.He and his friends rolled over in one promiscuous heap, but werequickly on their feet and skurried away in a twinkling.

  Jo Stinger scarcely credited the singular story when the Colonelrelated it, but when the particulars were given, he could not refuseto believe.

  "You could have ended it, Colonel, when you had his head inside," saidthe scout.

  "I know that, but I did not like the thought of taking such afrightful disadvantage of an enemy."

  "Then you ought to have done it without thinking," muttered Jo, whowas beginning to feel less mercy toward the Wyandots, since they hadmade their own furious hatred so manifest.

  "If there's any likelihood of that varmint trying the thing overagain, I'd stay here; but a chap who goes through, or tries to gothrough what he did, is apt to get enough."

  "I am sure of that," assented Colonel Preston, who was still rubbinghis face where the vigorous blow had fallen upon it.

  There was no occasion to remain below-stairs, and the two went up theladder, where a consultation was held as to what was best to do, ifindeed they could do anything in their perilous situation.

  Midnight had passed, and a hope was gaining ground that, if they couldhold out until morning, the prospect of beating off the Wyandots wouldbe improved. The American Indian seems incapable of doing his bestwork except in darkness, and another night of such utter gloom as thepresent was not likely to come.

  It was not known, of course, that Deerfoot had escaped from hisenemies, and the belief was general that his career had been broughtto an untimely end; but, as we have shown, the young Shawanoe, withall his fleetness, could not bring reinforcements from Wild Oaksbefore the succeeding night, and it would have been a great featcould he accomplish it in that limited time.

  The garrison had enough food to last them a week, and the supply ofwater was sufficient for the same time, unless too many draughtsshould be required by the work of the torch and burning arrows.

  A continuous assault upon the door and the frequent firing into theloopholes and windows promised something, but the danger and delaywhich attended such work were too great for the red men, who knew thevalue of time as well as did the settlers themselves.

  All within noted the direction and strength of the wind with ananxiety which cannot be described. The space separating theblock-house and the cabin was so small that a slight gale from theright quarter was certain to carry the flames from one to the other.Both parties therefore were watching the indications with an equalintensity of interest.

  Once the wind was just right, but a lull came, as the torch was aboutto be applied, and Waughtauk, after recovering from the terror causedby the appearance of the scout at the window, must have felt a grimimpatience, as he saw the hours steadily slipping away, with no markedchange in the situation.

  But the fiery arrows had done excellently well, although at thecritical moment a wet blanket, in the full sense of the word, wasthrown upon the prospects of the assailants. Waughtauk and hissharpshooters knew how cleverly they had been outwitted, and they weresure the strategy could not succeed a second time.

  The orders were therefore given to try the blazing missiles again, andin a few minutes a converging fire was opened, which looked as if aminiature bombardment had begun.

  The pyrotechnic display, under the peculiar circumstances, wassingularly striking.

  By and by the missiles found a lodgment on the roof of theblock-house, and the twists of flame once more lit up the roughsurface, scorched and blackened in many places, and on which theflakes, instead of sliding off, as aforetime, seemed to stick with anunusual persistency.

  There were broad patches of snow over the greater portion, andalthough some of the arrows held, yet the major number fell over,after striking and flickering a few minutes, and went out. The flakeswhich had collected now helped blot out the flames.

  The cause of these changed conditions was due to a number of saturatedblankets that had been carefully spread over the roof. During thedarkness which followed Jo Stinger's exploit, and after ColonelPreston's failure to win in his tug of war with the Wyandot, thegarrison had wisely improved the time by soaking quilts with water andlaying them over the most ignitable portion of the roof.

  Men and boys had given up those appropriated to their use; indeed allhad been taken, except those which protected the little girls whilesleeping. The mother offered those, if needed, willing to enfold andwarm her little ones with her own loving arms, and such few extragarments as could be gathered among the company; but the scoutdeclined, saying he had all he could use. At the same time he wouldhave given anything in his possession for enough material to plasterthe entire surface.

  Favored by the sheltering darkness, Jo then stretched these coveringsover the slabs. He fastened them together and balanced them over theridge, so there was no possibility of their slipping off.

  This was done with such care that no space was lost. The temperaturewas so low that in a few minutes the blankets were stiff with frost,and, although the hunter was toughened by many years' exposure, hishands became so benumbed he could hardly use them.

  It was these frosty blankets which caught the snow and held it, andwhich rendered useless so many of the burning shafts discharged by theWyandots.

  But there were spaces where the seasoned wood was exposed. Several ofthe blazing missiles, as might have been expected, lodged there andbegan burning their way into the timber.

  Furthermore, as these flames lit up the gloom, the Wyandots, eagerlylooking upon the scene from every point of the compass, saw a sightwhich must have amazed them: it was the figure of a man stretched outat full length on the roof, holding on with one hand, while the otherseemed to be occupied in giving the finishing touches to thesaturated goods, which, so far as they went, were an effective shieldagainst the fire.

  Was ever such reckless daring known? It looked as if the scout JoStinger deliberately invited this manner of his taking off, inpreference to torture by flame, or at the hands of his dusky enemies.

  If such were the fact, the Wyandots did not restrain their fire. Everyone who commanded the position immediately opened upon the poorfellow, and the sharpshooters in the cabin near at hand dischargedtheir pieces with unerring accuracy.

  Bullet after bullet struck the figure which, as it lay at full length,was a fair target for the many rifles. Still he held on and made noeffort to lift the trap-door and drop beyond range of the deadly sleethurtling about him.

  But there is a limit to the capacity of the strongest, and all at oncethe hold was loosened. He seemed to catch vainly at the steep roof,over which he began slipping; but there was nothing which he couldgrasp that would stay his downward flight. Faster and faster he went,until he shot over the eaves, and, striking the ground, collapsed ina limp heap in which there was not a particle of life.

  The Wyandots, with whoops of delight, dashed forward from thedarkness, each eager to be the first to scalp the man whom they wellknew, and regarded as the most formidable member of the garrison.

  Forgetful of the risk they ran (for the spot where the inanimatefigure fell was revealed by the burning arrows), the warriorsscrambled with each other as to who should secure the coveted trophy.

  Scarcely a full minute had passed when cries of rage and chagrin wereheard from the disappointed group: for that which they s
eized andstruck at was not a man at all, but a dummy cunningly put together,and placed in such a position on the top of the block-house that not aWyandot who fired at it had the slightest suspicion that he wasthrowing his ammunition away.