CHAPTER VII.
THE MESSAGE.
The declaration of Deerfoot the Shawanoe and of Stinger the scout thatthe Wyandots were holding such strict watch of the approaches to theblock-house that no one could leave or approach it, was proof of thethoroughness of their precautions. It showed still further that thered men had determined to slay every one within the building.
The first requisite to the success of such a scheme was to prevent anyone going to their help. The assailants knew just how many peoplecomposed the garrison; and, though the provisions might last for daysand possibly weeks, yet the end must come sooner or later, when theywould lose the power of resistance from very exhaustion.
Deerfoot, with all the skill he could command, conducted his twocompanions to a point along the river bank nearly in front of theblock-house. This attained, he gave them to understand that they werein a very dangerous position, and it was necessary to keep carefullyhidden from the Wyandots.
Having gone thus far, it would seem that the subtle Shawanoe ought tohave gone further and secured entrance into the block-house itself.Had Colonel Preston known the exact situation, this could have beendone, as in the case of the scout Stinger; but it was necessary firstthat a perfect understanding should be established. There wereWyandots everywhere: the watchful Shawanoe heard them movingstealthily hither and thither, and any one less skilful than he wouldhave brought on a collision long before.
Any act, signal or communication which would apprise Colonel Prestonof the truth, would attract the notice of the watchful red menthemselves; so it would seem that Deerfoot had all his pains fornothing. But we shall show that the remarkable Shawanoe youth had notreached the end of his rope by any means.
A question has doubtless presented itself to the reader as to thenecessity of the lads entering the block-house at all. Inasmuch asStinger wished to get out, and they wished to get in, they might aswell have exchanged positions. Deerfoot could turn about and hasten toWild Oaks with news of the danger of the little garrison, leaving allthe men to defend it until assistance arrived.
But, as afterwards became known, Deerfoot was following a special planof his own. He was quick to discover that Colonel Preston knew hisperil and would therefore do his utmost to defend the post; but thewily Shawanoe, from what he had learned, believed that the force ofassailants was so numerous and strong, that they were able to carrythe post before help could reach it from Wild Oaks. In his estimation,the all-important thing was to get re-inforcements into theblock-house without an hour's unnecessary delay: that done, the timewould then come for application to their friends on the Ohio.
If Ned Preston and Blossom Brown could be safely passed through thedoor, there would be two guns added to the five within, and such anaddition was likely to prove the "balance of power," that would savethe garrison from destruction.
This was the belief of the Shawanoe, and, though he did not explainhis purpose at first, he was none the less determined that ColonelPreston should receive the benefit of these two guns, beforeapplication was made to his brother.
Between the block-house and Licking river was a cleared space of onehundred yards, the cultivated ground on every hand being so extensivethat the stockade could not be approached by any foe unseen, except atnight. The banks of the Licking were from four to six feet above thesurface, while along the eastern shore, in front of the block-house,was a fringe of bushes and undergrowth, which offered a temptinghiding-place to a foe.
It was natural to expect the Wyandots to make use of this place, andthey had done so, but they already commanded the situation.
Deerfoot had one important advantage in the fact that the Wyandotsheld no suspicion of the presence of any friends of the whites in thevicinity of the block-house, and consequently they were not searchingfor such allies.
But it was easy to lose this ground, and he convinced his companionsthat if it should be found impossible to join Colonel Preston, itwould be equally fatal to attempt to leave the neighborhood beforenight: detection was inevitable.
Such was the state of affairs when the sun rose on the morningsucceeding Jo Stinger's failure to pass through the lines (whicheffort was made a number of hours before Deerfoot and his friendsreached the spot). The sky had cleared, and there was scarcely a cloudto obscure its light.
Peeping carefully out from among the bushes and undergrowth, the boyssaw the massive block-house standing at the corner of the stockade,grim, silent, and as forbidding as though no living person was within.The heavy oaken door, the huge logs, the narrow windows, the steeplyshelving roof, with one trap-door visible, the wooden chimney, thenumerous loopholes, the sides of the stockade stretching away to theleft from the building itself: all these added to the gloom andtomb-like appearance of the structure.
Not a person could be seen, as a matter of course, nor was any soundheard from the interior; but while the three were stealthily studyingthe building, they observed a faint, steely blue smoke creeping upwardfrom the wooden chimney. Mrs. Preston had doubtless kindled a fire onthe hearth in the lower story, for the comfort of her little ones onthis crisp autumn morning, or she was preparing a meal for thegarrison.
"If we were sure that door would be opened on the instant," said youngPreston, alluding to the entrance of the block-house which confrontedthem, "we could make a dash across the clearing and get inside, beforethe Wyandots would suspect what was going on."
Deerfoot nodded his head to signify that his friend was right, but theproblem remained as to how Colonel Preston should be apprised of thefact that his friends were waiting so near at hand for a chance tojoin him.
These boys were huddled as closely together as possible under thebank, where they were not likely to be seen, because there was nospecial reason for the Wyandots seeking the same hiding-place.
Having reached the spot through much tribulation, as may be said, thefriends were careful not to throw away the advantage gained. Theystealthily peeped over the edge of the bank, and their words werespoken in guarded undertones that could not have been heard by any onewithin twenty feet.
"I's got the idee," said Blossom Brown, thrusting forward his duskycountenance all aglow with pleasure: "I know jes' how we can tell deColonel we're out yar, without de Injines knowing a thing about it."
"How would my brother with the face of the night do?" asked theShawanoe, turning toward him.
"I'll jes' gib a lot ob hoots like a big owl dat am scared, and deColonel will know it's me, 'cause de last time I war at de block-houseI done it to please de little gals, Mary and Susie."
"That will never do," Ned Preston hastened to say; "for the Wyandotswould suspect the truth the instant they heard your hooting, and itwouldn't be long before they called on us."
"Den," added the African, who seemed to think the responsibility ofsettling the question rested with him, "let's jes' set up a yellin'dat de Colonel will hear, and make a rush for de house: he'll knowwe're comin' and will slip down and open de door, or, if he don't, wecan climb ober de fence and run round de back way."
The Shawanoe did not consider the proposals of Blossom worthy ofnotice, though they were made in all seriousness. Looking at Ned, heasked--
"Will my brother let Deerfoot see one of his letters?"
Wondering at the meaning of this request, Preston drew a missive fromthe inner pocket of his coat and handed it to the Indian. It waswritten on a large sheet of blue paper, the last page of which wasunruled, so as to permit the superscription, for the ordinary envelopewas unknown in those days. The sheet was carefully folded and doubledwithin itself, being sealed with a large red wafer, and the name ofColonel Hugh Preston, and the somewhat voluminous address, werewritten in a large plain hand in ink of glossy blackness.
It was the penmanship which excited the wonder of the Shawanoe morethan did anything on which he had looked for many a day. He held theletter in his hand, and, for several minutes, scrutinized the writingwith an interest that can hardly be described. Through the paper hiskeen eyes detected the fa
int tracery of some of the letters inside.Balancing the missive edgewise, between his thumb and forefinger, hegently pressed it until it partly spread open, despite the seal. Then,raising it before his face, he closed one eye as though he wereaiming his arrow at something, and peeped within.
The glimpse of the writing was as pleasing to him as the sight of thecircus is to the urchin who creeps under the canvas; and, though hecould not decipher the meaning of a character, he stared for severalminutes, almost holding his breath, as though he would force thesecrets from the "Rosetta stone."
He had heard of such things before, but it was hard for his untutoredmind to understand that what a man had said to his friend was in thatlittle package, and when opened, it would speak the same message tohim. His feelings must have been similar to those of his whitebrother, could he have seen the telephone of to-day perform itswonderful work.
"We write our words on the paper," said Ned, hoping to help the mindof the youth grasp the subject: "and when our friend gets the paper,there are the words looking him in the face."
Deerfoot inclined his head, as though he understood the explanation,but Ned saw that it was like the assent of the school-boy who doesn'twish his classmates to consider him stupid.
"If I should make a figure on the paper that looked like a deer, andsome one should take it to you, and you looked at it, you would knowthat it was meant for a deer, wouldn't you?"
The Indian nodded emphatically this time: he clearly understood_that_.
"Suppose I should make some lines and characters which you and Iagreed beforehand should mean, 'I am your friend and brother'; whenthose lines and characters were brought to you on paper, wouldn't youremember what they meant?"
The black eyes of Deerfoot sparkled. He had caught, for the first timein his life, an inkling of the mystery. He saw, as through a glass,darkly, the achievements of the white man who could forward his wordshundreds of miles, hidden in a small piece of paper.
"Will my brother teach Deerfoot how to send his thoughts to the GreatSpirit?"
There was a wistful expression in the dark eyes of the Shawanoe, whichtouched Ned Preston. The voice of the lad trembled, as he answeredimpressively--
"You need no such means to reach the Great Spirit, as you must haveheard from your own people: _our_ Great Spirit is always looking downin kindness on his children, and his ears are ever open to hear whatthey have asked him."
"Will my white brother tell Deerfoot of the Great Spirit of the palefaces, that the missionary talks about?"
"I will be glad to do so, for it is what all of your people shouldknow; when we can gain the time, I will teach you how to read booksand write letters just as well as any white man can do, for I am surethat one who is so bright as you, will learn it with much ease."
"Deerfoot will never forget his pale-faced brother," said the Shawanoegratefully.
"And if masser Ned don't got de time, den I'll jes' take you hummin'frough all de knowledge dat you want," said Blossom with anexaggerated idea of his importance.
"It would be well for you to learn how to read and write yourself,before trying to teach others," said Preston.
"I reckon dar aint many dat can beat me 'round de settlements; I canspell 'dog' and 'cat'."
"Let's hear you."
"D-o-a-g, dog; r-a-t, cat--no, dat spells something else,--I forgetwhat, but I'm dar all de time, jes' de same."
Deerfoot was still holding the letter in his hand and lookingearnestly at Ned, without noticing the words of Blossom.
"Can my white brother write on the back of this the words whichColonel Preston can read?"
It flashed upon young Preston that the keen-witted youth wasunraveling the plan he had held in mind from the first.
"Certainly I can."
"Write some message on this paper for him."
"But, Deerfoot, I have no pen, nor ink, nor pencil, or I would only betoo glad to do so."
The Shawanoe was prepared for this.
"Deerfoot will bring you something that will do."
He moved away from his young friends, with that silence and stealthwhich seemed a part of his nature, while the delighted and expectantfriend turned to Blossom Brown--
"Do you understand what his plan is to reach--"
Ned did not finish the question, for he saw that his servant, despitethe gravity of the situation and the crispness of the air, was lyingon his side sunk in a sound slumber. Fortunately his posture was suchan easy one that he did not breathe loud enough to create any dangerof being heard.
The Shawanoe was gone only a few minutes, when he reappeared holdingin his hand a piece of reddish brown stone, almost as soft as themineral known as "red chalk," and which he had evidently broken fromsome crumbling rock.
Ned Preston carefully sharpened it to a point, as though it were alead-pencil. It could not be said to work very well, when applied topaper, but he found that patience and care would enable him to writeconsiderable that would be legible to any one who understood writing.
Accordingly with much pains and labor he traced the following lines,first consulting Deerfoot as to what should be placed in thecommunication--
"DEAR UNCLE HUGH:
"Deerfoot, the friendly Shawanoe, Blossom Brown, our servant, and Iare along the bank of the river, exactly opposite the front of theblock-house. We want to join you, so as to help you fight off theWyandots, but they are so plenty all around us that we daresn't tryit, unless you are prepared to let us in the door, the instant wereach it. When you are ready, wave your hand through the front window,and we'll make the start.
"Your affectionate nephew, "NED."