Chapter V. Afloat

by Joseph A. Altsheler

　　The boys began at once the work on their raft, a rude structureof a few fallen logs, fastened together with bark and brush, butsimple, strong and safe. They finished it in two days, existingmeanwhile on the deer meat, and early the morning afterwards, theclumsy craft, bearing the two navigators, was duly intrusted tothe mercy of the unknown river. Each of the boys carried aslender hickory pole with which to steer, and they also fastenedsecurely to the raft the remainder of their deer, their mostprecious possession.

　　They pushed off with the poles, and the current catching theircraft, carried it gently along. It was a fine little river,running in a deep channel, and Henry became more sure than everthat it was the one that flowed by Wareville. He was certainthat the family resemblance was too strong for him to bemistaken.

　　They floated on for hours, rarely using their poles to increasethe speed of the raft and by and by they began to pass betweencliffs of considerable height. The forest here was very dense.Mighty oaks and hickories grew right at the water's edge,throwing out their boughs so far that often the whole stream wasin the shade. Henry enjoyed it. This was one of the things thathis fancy had pictured. He was now floating down an unknownriver, through unknown lands, and, like as not, his and Paul'swere the first human eyes that had ever looked upon these hillsand splendid forests. Reposing now after work and danger hebreathed again the breath of the wilderness. He loved it-itssilence, its magnificent spaces, and its majesty. He was gladthat he had come to Kentucky, where life was so much grander thanit was back in the old Eastern regions. Here one was not fencedin and confined and could grow to his true stature.

　　They ate their dinner on the raft, still floating peacefully andtried to guess how far they had come, but neither was able tojudge the speed of the current. Paul fitted himself into a snugplace on their queer craft and after a while went to sleep.Henry watched him, lest he turn over and fall into the river andalso kept an eye out for other things.

　　He was watching thus, when about the middle of the afternoon hesaw a thin dark line, lying like a thread, against the blueskies. He studied it long and came to the conclusion that it wassmoke.

　　"Smoke!" said he to himself. "Maybe that means Wareville."

　　The raft glided gently with the current, moving so smoothly andpeacefully that it was like the floating of a bubble on a summersea. Paul still lay in a dreamless sleep. The water was silverin the shade and dim gold where the sunshine fell upon it, andthe trees, a solid mass, touched already by the brown of earlyautumn, dropped over the stream. Afar, a fine haze, like a mistyveil, hung over the forest. The world was full of peace andprimitive beauty.

　　They drifted on and the spire of smoke broadened and grew. Thelook of the river became more and more familiar. Paul stillslept and Henry would not awaken him. He looked at the face ofhis comrade as he slumbered and noticed for the first time thatit was thin and pale. The life in the woods had been hard uponPaul. Henry did not realize until this moment how very hard ithad been. The sight of that smoke had not come too soon.

　　There was a shout from the bank followed by the crash of bodiesamong the undergrowth.

　　"Smoke me, but here they are a-floatin' down the river in theirown boat, as comfortable as two lords!"

　　It was the voice of Shif'less Sol, and his face, side-by-sidewith that of Ross, the guide, appeared among the trees at theriver's brink. Henry felt a great flush of joy when he saw them,and waved his hands. Paul, awakened by the shouts, was in a dazeat first, but when he beheld old friends again his delight wasintense.

　　Henry thrust a pole against the bottom and shoved the raft to thebank. Then he and Paul sprang ashore and shook hands again andagain with Ross and Sol. Ross told of the long search for thetwo boys. He and Mr. Ware and Shif'less Sol and a half dozenothers had never ceased to seek them. They feared at one timethat they had been carried off by savages, but nowhere did theyfind Indian traces. Then their dread was of starvation or deathby wild animals, and they had begun to lose hope.

　　Both Henry and Paul were deeply moved by the story of the griefat Wareville. They knew even without the telling that thissorrow had never been demonstrative. The mothers of the Westwere too much accustomed to great tragedies to cry out and wringtheir hands when a blow fell. Theirs was always a silent grief,but none the less deep.

　　Then, guided by Ross and the shiftless one, they proceeded toWareville which was really at the bottom of the smoke spire,where they were received, as two risen from the dead, in awelcome that was not noisy, but deep and heartfelt. The cow, theoriginal cause of the trouble, had wandered back home long ago.

　　"How did you live in the forest?" asked Mr. Ware of Henry, afterthe first joy of welcome was shown.

　　"It was hard at first, but we were beginning to learn," repliedthe boy. "If we'd only had our rifles 'twould have been notrouble. And father, the wilderness is splendid!"

　　The boy's thoughts wandered far away for a moment to the wildwoods where he again lay in the shade of mighty oaks and saw thedeer come down to drink. Mr. Ware noticed the expression onHenry's face and took reflection. "I must not let the yoke beartoo heavy upon him," was his unspoken thought.

　　But Paul's joy was unalloyed; he preferred life at Wareville tolife in the wilderness amid perpetual hardships, and when theygave the great dinner at Mr. Ware's to celebrate the return ofthe wanderers he reached the height of human bliss. Both Rossand Shif'less Sol were present and with them too were SilasPennypacker who could preach upon occasion for the settlement anddid it, now and then, and John Upton, who next to Mr. Ware wasthe most notable man in Wareville, and his daughter Lucy, now ashy, pretty girl of twelve, and more than twenty others. EvenBraxton Wyatt was among the members although he still sneered atHenry.

　　Theirs was in very truth a table fit for a king. In fact fewkings could duplicate it, without sending to the uttermost partsof the earth, and perhaps not then. Meat was its staple. Theyhad wild duck, wild goose, wild turkey, deer, elk, beaver tail,and a half dozen kinds of fish; but the great delicacy wasbuffalo hump cooked in a peculiar way - that is, served up in thehide of a buffalo from which the hair had been singed off, andbaked in an earthen oven. Ross, who had learned it from theIndians, showed them how to do this, and they agreed that none ofthem had ever before tasted so fine a dish. When the dinner wasover, Henry and Paul had to answer many questions about theirwanderings, and they were quite willing to do so, feeling at themoment a due sense of their own importance.

　　A shade passed over the faces of some of the men at the mentionof the Indians, whom Henry and Paul had seen, but Ross agreedwith Henry go that they were surely of the South, going home froma hunting trip, and so they were soon forgotten.

　　Henry's work after their return included an occasional huntingexcursion, as game was always needed. His love of the wildernessdid not decrease when thus he ranged through it and began tounderstand its ways. Familiarity did not breed contempt. Themagnificent spaces and mighty silence appealed to him withincreasing force. The columns of the trees were like cathedralaisles and the pure breath of the wind was fresh with life.The first part of the autumn was hot and dry. The foliage diedfast, the leaves twisted and dried up and the brown grass stemsfell lifeless to the earth. A long time they were without rain,and a dull haze of heat hung over the simmering earth. The rivershrank in its bed, and the brooks became rills.

　　Henry still hunted with his older comrades, though often at nightnow, and he saw the forest in a new phase. Dried and burned itappealed to him still. He learned to sleep lightly, that is, tostart up at the slightest sound, and one morning after thewilderness had been growing hotter and dryer than ever he wasawakened by a faint liquid touch on the roof. He knew at oncethat it was the rain, wished for so long and talked of so much,and he opened the shutter window to see it fall.

　　The sun was just rising, but showed only a faint glow of pinkthrough the misty clouds, and the wind was light. The cloudsopened but a little at first and the great drops fell slowly.The hot earth steamed at the touch, and, burning with thirst,quickly drank in the moisture. The wind grew and the drops fellfaster. The heat fled away, driven by the waves of cool, freshair that came out of the west. Washed by the rain the dry grassstraightened up, and the dying leaves opened out, springing intonew life. Faster and faster came the drops and now the soundthey made was like the steady patter of musketry. Henry openedhis mouth and breathed the fresh clean air, and he felt that likethe leaves and grass he, too, was gaining new life.

　　When he went forth the next day in the dripping forest, thewilderness seemed to be alive. The game swarmed everywhere andhe was a lazy man who could not take what he wished. It was likea late touch of spring, but it did not last long, for then thefrosts came, the air grew crisp and cool and the foliage of theforest turned to wonderful reds and yellows and browns. From thesummit of the blockhouse tower Henry saw a great blaze of variedcolor, and he thought that he liked this part of the year best.He could feel his own strength grow, and now that cold weatherwas soon to come he would learn new ways to seek game and newphases of the wilderness.

　　The autumn and its beauty deepened. The colors of the foliagegrew more intense and burned afar like flame. The settlerslightened their work and most of them now spent a large part ofthe time in hunting, pursuing it with the keen zest, born of anatural taste and the relaxation from heavy labors. Mr. Ware anda few others, anxious to test the qualities of the soil, wereplowing up newly cleared land to be sown in wheat, but Henry wascompelled to devote only a portion of his time to this work. Theremaining hours, not needed for sleep, he was usually in theforest with Paul and the others.

　　The hunting was now glorious. Less than three miles from thefort and about a mile from the river Henry and Paul found abeaver dam across a tributary creek and they laid rude traps forits builders, six of which they caught in the course of time.Ross and Sol showed them how to take off the pelts which would beof value when trade should be opened with the east, and also howto cook beaver tail, a dish which could, with truth, be called arival of buffalo hump.

　　Now the settlers began to accumulate a great supply of game atWareville. Elk and deer and bear and buffalo and smaller animalswere being jerked and dried at every house, and every larder wasfilled to the brim. There could be no lack of food the comingwinter, the settlers said, and they spoke with some pride oftheir care and providence.

　　The village was gaining in both comfort and picturesqueness.Tanned skins of the deer, elk, buffalo, bear, wolf, panther andwild cat hung on the walls of every house, and were spread onevery floor. The women contrived fans and ornaments of thebeautiful mottled plumage of the wild-turkey. Cloth was hard toobtain in the wilderness, as it might be a year before a packtrain would come over the mountains from the east, and so thewomen made clothing of the softest and lightest of the dresseddeer skin. There were hunting shirts for the men and boys,fastened at the waist by a belt, and with a fringe three or fourinches long, the bottom of which fell to the knees. The men andboys also made themselves caps of raccoon skin with the tailsewed on behind as a decoration. Henry and Paul were very proudof theirs.

　　The finest robes of buffalo skin were saved for the beds, andRoss gave warning that they should have full need of them.Winters in Kentucky, he said, were often cold enough to freezethe very marrow in one's bones, when even the wildest of menwould be glad enough to leave the woods and hover over a bigfire. But the settlers provided for this also by building greatstacks of firewood beside each house. They were as well equippedwith axes-keen, heavy weapons-as they were with rifles andammunition, and these were as necessary. The forest aroundWareville already gave great proof of their prowess with the ax.Now the autumn was waning. Every morning the wilderness gleamedand sparkled beneath a beautiful covering of white frost. Thebrown in the leaves began to usurp the yellows and the reds. Theair, crisp and cold, had a strange nectar in it and its verybreath was life. The sun lay in the heavens a ball of gold, anda fine haze, like a misty golden veil, hung over the forest. Itwas Indian summer.

　　Then Indian summer passed and winter, which was very early thatyear, came roaring down on Wareville. The autumn broke up in acold rain which soon turned to snow. The wind swept out of thenorthwest, bitter and chill, and the desolate forest, every boughstripped of its leaves, moaned before the blast.

　　But it was cheerful, when the sleet beat upon the roof and thecold wind rattled the rude shutters, to sit before the big firesand watch them sparkle and blaze.

　　There was another reason why Henry should now begin to spend muchof his time indoors. The Rev. Silas Pennypacker opened hisschool for the winter, and it was necessary for Henry to attend.Many of the pioneers who crossed the mountains from the EasternStates and founded the great Western outpost of the nation inKentucky were men of education and cultivation, with a knowledgeof books and the world. They did not intend that their childrenshould grow up mere ignorant borderers, but they wished theirdaughters to have grace and manners and their sons to become menof affairs, fit to lead the vanguard of a mighty race. So afirst duty in the wilderness was to found schools, and this theydid.

　　The Reverend Silas was no lean and thin body, no hanger-on uponstronger men, but of fine girth and stature with a red face asround as the full moon, a glorious laugh and the mellowest voicein the colony. He was by repute a famous scholar who could atonce give the chapter and text of any verse in the Bible and hadtwice read through the ponderous history of the French gentleman,M. Rollin. It was said, too, that he had nearly twenty volummesof some famous romances by a French lady, one Mademoiselle deScudery, brought over the mountains in a box, but of this Henryand Paul could not speak with certainty, as a certain woodencupboard in Mr. Pennypacker's house was always securely locked.But the teacher was a favorite in the settlement with both menand women. A sight of his cheerful face was considered goodenough to cure chills and fever, and for the matter of that hewas an expert hand with both ax and rifle. His uses in Warevillewere not merely mental and spiritual. He was at all times ableand willing to earn his own bread with his own strong hands,though the others seldom permitted him to do so.

　　Henry entered school with some reluctance. Being nearly sixteennow, with an unusually powerful frame developed by a forest life,he was as large as an ordinary man and quite as strong. Hethought he ought to have done with schools, and set up in man'sestate but his father insisted upon another winter under Mr.Pennypacker's care and Henry yielded.

　　There were perhaps thirty boys and girls who sat on the roughwooden benches in the school and received tuition. Mr.Pennypacker did not undertake to guide them through many branchesof learning, but what he taught he taught well. He, too, had thefeeling that these boys and girls were to be the men and womenwho would hold the future of the West in their hands, and heintended that they should be fit. There were statesmen andgenerals among those red-faced boys on the benches, and the wivesand mothers of others among the red-faced girls who sat nearthem, and he tried to teach them their duty as the heirs of awilderness, soon to be the home of a great race.

　　Among his favorite pupils was Paul who had not Henry's eye andhand in the forest, but who loved books and the knowledge of men.He could follow the devious lines of history when Henry wouldmuch rather have been following the devious trail of a deer.Nevertheless, Henry persisted, borne up by the emulation of hiscomrade, and the knowledge that it was his last winter in school.