Chapter XIV. The Pursuit on the River

by Joseph A. Altsheler

　　The story of the frontier is filled with heroines, from the fardays of Hannah Dustin down to the present, and Mary Newton, whomthe unknown figure in the dark had just aroused, is one of them.It had seemed to her that God himself had deserted her, but atthe last moment he had sent some one. She did not doubt, shecould not doubt, because the bonds had been severed, and thereshe lay with a deadly weapon in either hand. The friendlystranger who had come so silently was gone as he had come, butshe was not helpless now. Like many another frontier woman, shewas naturally lithe and powerful, and, stirred by a great hope,all her strength had returned for the present.

　　Nobody who lives in the wilderness can wholly escapesuperstition, and Mary Newton began to believe that somesupernatural creature had intervened in her behalf. She raisedherself just a little on one elbow and surveyed the surroundingthicket. She saw only the dead embers of the fire, and the darkforms of the Indians lying upon the bare ground. Had it not beenfor the knife and pistol in her hand, she could have believedthat the voice was only a dream.

　　There was a slight rustling in the thicket, and a Seneca rosequickly to his knees, grasping his rifle in both hands. Thewoman's fingers clutched the knife and pistol more tightly, andher whole gaunt figure trembled. The Seneca listened only amoment. Then he gave a sharp cry, and all the other warriorssprang up. But three of them rose only to fall again, as therifles cracked in the bushes, while two others staggered fromwounds.

　　The triumphant shout of the frontiersmen came from the thicket,and then they rushed upon the camp. Quick as a flash two of theSenecas started toward the woman and children with theirtomahawks, but Mary Newton was ready. Her heart had leaped atthe shots when the Senecas fell, and she kept her courage. Nowshe sprang to her full height, and, with the children screamingat her feet, fired one barrel of the pistol directly into theface of the first warrior, and served the second in the same waywith the other barrel when he was less than four feet away.Then, tomahawk in hand, she rushed forward. In judging MaryNewton, one must consider time and place.

　　But happily there was no need for her to use her tomahawk. Asthe five rushed in, four of them emptied their double-barreledpistols, while Henry swung his clubbed rifle with terribleeffect. It was too much for the Senecas. The apparition of thearmed woman, whom they had left bound, and the deadly fire fromthe five figures that sprang upon them, was like a blow from thehand of Aieroski. The unhurt and wounded fled deep into theforest, leaving their dead behind. Mary Newton, her great deeddone, collapsed from emotion and weakness. The screams of thechildren sank in a few moments to frightened whimpers. But theoldest, when they saw the white faces, knew that rescue had come.

　　Paul brought water from the brook in his cap, and Mary Newton wasrevived; Jim was reassuring the children, and the other threewere in the thickets, watching lest the surviving Senecas returnfor attack.

　　"I don't know who you are, but I think the good God himself musthave sent you to our rescue," said Mary Newton reverently.

　　"We don't know," said Paul, "but we are doing the best we can.Do you think you can walk now?"

　　"Away from the savages? Yes!" she said passionately. She lookeddown at the dead figures of the Senecas, and she did not feel asingle trace of pity for them. Again it is necessary to considertime and place.

　　"Some of my strength came back while I was lying here," she said,"and much more of it when you drove away the Indians."

　　"Very well," said Henry, who had returned to the dead camp firewith his comrades, "we must start on the back trail at once. Thesurviving Senecas, joined by other Iroquois, will certainlypursue, and we need all the start that we can get."

　　Long Jim picked up one of the two younger children and flung himover his shoulder; Tom Ross did as much for the other, but theolder two scorned help. They were full of admiration for thegreat woodsmen, mighty heroes who had suddenly appeared out ofthe air, as it were, and who had swept like a tornado over theSeneca band. It did not seem possible now that they, could beretaken.

　　But Mary Newton, with her strength and courage, had alsorecovered her forethought.

　　"Maybe it will not be better to go on the back trail," she said."One of the Senecas told me to-day that six or seven milesfarther on was a river flowing into the Susquehanna, and thatthey would cross this river on a boat now concealed among busheson the bank. The crossing was at a sudden drop between highbanks. Might not we go on, find the boat, and come back in itdown the river and into the Susquehanna?"

　　"That sounds mighty close to wisdom to me," said Shif'less Sol."Besides, it's likely to have the advantage o' throwin' theIroquois off our track. They'll think, o' course, that we'vegone straight back, an' we'll pass 'em ez we're going forward."

　　"It's certainly the best plan," said Henry, "and it's worth ourwhile to try for that hidden boat of the Iroquois. Do you knowthe general direction?"

　　"Almost due north."

　　"Then we'll make a curve to the right, in order to avoid anyIroquois who may be returning to this camp, and push for it."

　　Henry led the way over hilly, rough ground, and the othersfollowed in a silent file, Long Jim and Tom still carrying thetwo smallest children, who soon fell asleep on their shoulders.Henry did not believe that the returning Iroquois could followtheir trail on such a dark night, and the others agreed with him.

　　After a while they saw the gleam of water. Henry knew that itmust be very near, or it would have been wholly invisible on sucha dark night.

　　"I think, Mrs. Newton," he said, "that this is the river of whichyou spoke, and the cliffs seem to drop down just as you said theywould."

　　The woman smiled.

　　"Yes," she said, "you've done well with my poor guess, and theboat must be hidden somewhere near here."

　　Then she sank down with exhaustion, and the two older children,unable to walk farther, sank down beside her. But the two whoslept soundly on the shoulders of Long Jim and Tom Ross did notawaken. Henry motioned to Jim and Tom to remain there, andShif'less Sol bent upon them a quizzical and approving look.

　　"Didn't think it was in you, Jim Hart, you old horny-handedgaloot," he said, "carryin' a baby that tender. Knew Jim couldsling a little black bar 'roun' by the tail, but I didn't thinkyou'd take to nussin' so easy."

　　"I'd luv you to know, Sol Hyde," said Jim Hart in a tone of highcondescension, "that Tom Ross an' me are civilized human bein's.In face uv danger we are ez brave ez forty thousand lions, butwith the little an' the weak we're as easy an' kind an' soft ezhuman bein's are ever made to be."

　　"You're right, old hoss," said Tom Ross.

　　"Well," said the shiftless one, "I can't argify with you now, ezthe general hez called on his colonel, which is me, an' hismajor, which is Paul, to find him a nice new boat like one o'them barges o' Clepatry that Paul tells about, all solid silver,with red silk sails an' gold oars, an' we're meanin' to do it."

　　Fortune was with them, and in a quarter of an hour theydiscovered, deep among bushes growing in the shallow water, alarge, well-made boat with two pairs of oars and with smallsupplies of parched corn and venison hidden in it.

　　"Good luck an' bad luck come mixed," said the shift-less one,"an' this is shorely one o' our pieces o' good luck. The womanan' the children are clean tuckered out, an' without this boat wecould never hev got them back. Now it's jest a question o'rowin' an' fightin'."

　　"Paul and I will pull her out to the edge of the clear water,"said Henry, "while you can go back and tell the others, Sol."

　　"That just suits a lazy man," said Sol, and he walked awayjauntily. Under his apparent frivolity he concealed his joy atthe find, which he knew to be of such vast importance. Heapproached the dusky group, and his really tender heart wasstirred with pity for the rescued captives. Long Jim and SilentTom held the smaller two on their shoulders, but the older onesand the woman, also, had fallen asleep. Sol, in order to concealhis emotion, strode up rather roughly. Mary Newton awoke.

　　"Did you find anything?" she asked.

　　"Find anything?" repeated Shif'less Sol. "Well, Long Jim an' Tomhere might never hev found anything, but Henry an' Paul an' me,three eddicated men, scholars, I might say, wuz jest natcherallybound to find it whether it wuz thar or not. Yes, we'veunearthed what Paul would call an argosy, the grandest craft thatever floated on this here creek, that I never saw before, an'that I don't know the name uv. She's bein' floated out now, an'I, the Gran' Hidalgo an' Majordomo, hev come to tell the princesand princesses, an' the dukes and dukesses, an' all the othergran' an' mighty passengers, that the barge o' the Dog o' Veniceis in the stream, an' the Dog, which is Henry Ware, is waitin',settin' on the Pup to welcome ye."

　　"Sol," said Long Jim, "you do talk a power uv foolishness, withyour Dogs an' Pups."

　　"It ain't foolishness," rejoined the shiftless one. "I heardPaul read it out o' a book oncet, plain ez day. They've beenruled by Dogs at Venice for more than a thousand years, an' onbig 'casions the Dog comes down a canal in a golden barge,settin' on the Pup. I'll admit it 'pears strange to me, too, butwho are you an' me, Jim Hart, to question the ways of foreigncountries, thousands o' miles on the other side o' the sea?"

　　"They've found the boat," said Tom Ross, "an' that's enough!"

　　"Is it really true?" asked Mrs. Newton.

　　"It is," replied Shif'less Sol, "an' Henry an' Paul are in it,waitin' fur us. We're thinkin', Mrs. Newton, that the roughestpart of your trip is over."

　　In another five minutes all were in the boat, which was a reallyfine one, and they were delighted. Mary Newton for the firsttime broke down and wept, and no one disturbed her. The fivespread the blankets on the bottom of the boat, where the childrensoon went to sleep once more, and Tom Ross and Shif'less Sol tookthe oars.

　　"Back in a boat ag'in," said the shiftless one exultantly."Makes me feel like old times. My fav'rite mode o' travelin'when Jim Hart, 'stead o' me, is at the oars."

　　"Which is most o' the time," said Long Jim.

　　It was indeed a wonderful change to these people worn by thewilderness. They lay at ease now, while two pairs of powerfularms, with scarcely an effort, propelled the boat along thestream. The woman herself lay down on the blankets and fellasleep with the children. Henry at the prow, Tom Ross at thestern, and Paul amidships watched in silence, but with theirrifles across their knees. They knew that the danger was farfrom over. Other Indians were likely to use this stream, unknownto them, as a highway, and those who survived of their originalcaptors could pick up their trail by daylight. And the Senecas,being mad for revenge, would surely get help and follow.Henry believed that the theory of returning toward the WyomingValley was sound. That region had been so thoroughly ravaged nowthat all the Indians would be going northward. If they couldfloat down a day or so without molestation, they would probablybe safe. The creek, or, rather, little river, broadened, flowingwith a smooth, fairly swift current. The forest on either sidewas dense with oak, hickory, maple, and other splendid trees,often with a growth of underbrush. The three riflemen neverceased to watch intently. Henry always looked ahead. It wouldhave been difficult for any ambushed marksman to have escaped hisnotice. But nothing occurred to disturb them. Once a deer camedown to drink, and fled away at sight of the phantom boat glidingalmost without noise on the still waters. Once the far scream ofa panther came from the woods, but Mary Newton and her children,sleeping soundly, did not hear it. The five themselves knew thenature of the sound, and paid no attention. The boat wentsteadily on, the three riflemen never changing their position,and soon the day began to come. Little arrows of golden lightpierced through the foliage of the trees, and sparkled on thesurface of the water. In the cast the red sun was coming fromhis nightly trip. Henry looked down at the sleepers. They wereoverpowered by exhaustion, and would not awake of their ownaccord for a long time.

　　Shif'less Sol caught his look.

　　"Why not let 'em sleep on?" he said.

　　Then he and Jim Hart took the oars, and the shiftless one and TomRoss resumed their rifles. The day was coming fast, and thewhole forest was soon transfused with light.

　　No one of the five had slept during the night. They did not feelthe need of sleep, and they were upborne, too, by a greatexaltation. They had saved the prisoners thus far from ahorrible fate, and they were firmly resolved to reach, with them,some strong settlement and safety. They felt, too, a sense ofexultation over Brant, Sangerachte, Hiokatoo, the Butlers, theJohnsons, Wyatt, and all the crew that had committed suchterrible devastation in the Wyoming Valley and elsewhere.

　　The full day clothed the earth in a light that turned from silverto gold, and the woman and the children still slept. The fivechewed some strips of venison, and looked rather lugubriously atthe pieces they were saving for Mary Newton and the children.

　　"We ought to hev more'n that," said Shif'less Sol. Ef the worstcomes to the worst, we've got to land somewhar an' shoot a deer."

　　"But not yet," said Henry in a whisper, lest he wake thesleepers. "I think we'll come into the Susquehanna pretty soon,and its width will be a good thing for us. I wish we were therenow. I don't like this narrow stream. Its narrowness affordstoo good an ambush."

　　"Anyway, the creek is broadenin' out fast," said the shiftlessone, "an' that is a good sign., What's that you see ahead,Henry-ain't it a river?"

　　"It surely is," replied Henry, who caught sight of a broadexpanse of water, "and it's the Susquehanna. Pull hard, Sol! Infive more minutes we'll be in the river."

　　It was less than five when they turned into the current of theSusquehanna, and less than five more when they heard a shoutbehind them, and saw at least a dozen canoes following. Thecanoes were filled with Indians and Tories, and they had spiedthe fugitives.

　　"Keep the women and the children down, Paul," cried Henry.

　　All knew that Henry and Shif'less Sol were the best shots, and,without a word, Long Jim and Tom, both powerful and skilledwatermen, swung heavily on the oars, while Henry and Shif'lessSol sat in the rear with their rifles ready. Mary Newton awokewith a cry at the sound of the shots, and started to rise, butPaul pushed her down.

　　"We're on the Susquehanna now, Mrs. Newton," he said, " and weare pursued. The Indians and Tories have just seen us, but don'tbe afraid. The two who are watching there are the best shots inthe world."

　　He looked significantly at Henry and Shif'less Sol, crouching inthe stern of the boat like great warriors from some mighty past,kings of the forest whom no one could overcome, and her couragecame back. The children, too, had awakened with frightenedcries, but she and Paul quickly soothed them, and, obedient tocommands, the four, and Mary Newton with them, lay flat upon thebottom of the boat, which was now being sent forward rapidly byJim Hart and Tom. Paul took up his rifle and sat in a waitingattitude, either to relieve one of the men at the oars or toshoot if necessary.

　　The clear sun made forest and river vivid in its light. TheIndians, after their first cry, made no sound, but so powerfulwere Long Jim and Tom that they were gaining but little, althoughsome of the boats contained six or eight rowers.

　　As the light grew more intense Henry made out the two white facesin the first boat. One was that of Braxton Wyatt, and the other,he was quite sure, belonged to the infamous Walter Butler. Hotanger swept through all his veins, and the little pulses in histemples began to beat like trip hammers. Now the picture ofWyoming, the battle, the massacre, the torture, and Queen Estherwielding her great tomahawk on the bound captives, grewastonishingly vivid, and it was printed blood red on his brain.The spirit of anger and defiance, of a desire to taunt those whohad done such things, leaped up in his heart.

　　"Are you there, Braxton Wyatt?" he called clearly across theintervening water. "Yes, I see that it is you, murderer of womenand children, champion of the fire and stake, as savage as any ofthe savages. And it is you, too, Walter Butler, wickeder son ofa wicked father. Come a little closer, won't you? We'vemessengers here for both of you!"

　　He tapped lightly the barrel of his own rifle and that ofShif'less Sol, and repeated his request that they come a littlecloser.

　　They understood his words, and they understood, also, thesignificant gesture when he patted the barrel of the rifles. Thehearts of both Butler and Wyatt were for the moment afraid, andtheir boat dropped back to third place. Henry laughed aloud whenhe saw. The Viking rage was still upon him. This was theprimeval wilderness, and these were no common foes.

　　"I see that you don't want to receive our little messengers," hecried. "Why have you dropped back to third place in the line,Braxton Wyatt and Walter Butler, when you were first only amoment ago? Are you cowards as well as murderers of women andchildren?"

　　"That's pow'ful good talk," said Shif'less Sol admiringly."Henry, you're a real orator. Give it to 'em, an' mebbe I'll geta chance at one o' them renegades."

　　It seemed that Henry's words had an effect, because the boat ofthe renegades pulled up somewhat, although it did not regainfirst place. Thus the chase proceeded down the Susquehanna.

　　The Indian fleet was gaining a little, and Shif'less Sol calledHenry's attention to it.

　　"Don't you think I'd better take a shot at one o' them rowers inthe first boat?" he said to Henry. "Wyatt an' Butler are aleetle too fur away."

　　"I think it would give them a good hint, Sol!" said Henry. "Takethat fellow on the right who is pulling so hard."

　　The shiftless one raised his rifle, lingered but a little overhis aim, and pulled the trigger. The rower whom Henry hadpointed out fell back in the boat, his hands slipping from thehandles of his oars. The boat was thrown into confusion, anddropped back in the race. Scattering shots were fired in return,but all fell short, the water spurting up in little jets wherethey struck.

　　Henry, who had caught something of the Indian nature in his longstay among them in the northwest, laughed in loud irony.

　　"That was one of our little messengers, and it found a listener!"he shouted. "And I see that you are afraid, Braxton Wyatt andWalter Butler, murderers of women and children! Why don't youkeep your proper places in the front?"

　　"That's the way to talk to 'em," whispered Shif'less Sol, as hereloaded. "Keep it up, an' mebbe we kin git a chance at BraxtonWyatt hisself. Since Wyoming I'd never think o' missin' sech achance."

　　"Nor I, either," said Henry, and he resumed in his powerfultones: "The place of a leader is in front, isn't it? Then whydon't you come up?"

　　Braxton Wyatt and Walter Butler did not come up. They were notlacking in courage, but Wyatt knew what deadly marksmen thefugitive boat contained, and he had also told Butler. So theystill hung back, although they raged at Henry Ware's taunts, andpermitted the Mohawks and Senecas to take the lead in the chase.

　　"They're not going to give us a chance," said Henry. "I'msatisfied of that. They'll let redskins receive our bullets,though just now I'd rather it were the two white ones. What doyou think, Sol, of that leading boat? Shouldn't we give anotherhint?"

　　"I agree with you, Henry," said the shiftless one. They'recomin' much too close fur people that ain't properly interducedto us. This promiskus way o' meetin' up with strangers an'lettin' 'em talk to you jest ez ef they'd knowed you all theirlives hez got to be stopped. It's your time, Henry, to give 'ema polite hint, an' I jest suggest that you take the big fellow inthe front o' the boat who looks like a Mohawk."

　　Henry raised his rifle, fired, and the Mohawk would row no more.Again confusion prevailed in the pursuing fleet, and there was adecline of enthusiasm. Braxton Wyatt and Walter Butler raged andswore, but, as they showed no great zeal for the lead themselves,the Iroquois did not gain on the fugitive boat. They, too, werefast learning that the two who crouched there with their riflesready were among the deadliest marksmen in existence. They fireda dozen shots, perhaps, but their rifles did not have the longrange of the Kentucky weapons, and again the bullets fell short,causing little jets of water to spring up.

　　"They won't come any nearer, at least not for the present," saidHenry, "but will hang back just out of rifle range, waiting forsome chance to help them."

　　Shif'less Sol looked the other way, down the Susquehanna, andannounced that he could see no danger. There was probably noIndian fleet farther down the river than the one now pursuingthem, and the danger was behind them, not before.

　　Throughout the firing, Silent Tom Ross and Long Jim Hart had notsaid a word, but they rowed with a steadiness and power thatwould have carried oarsmen of our day to many a victory.Moreover, they had the inducement not merely of a prize, but oflife itself, to row and to row hard. They had rolled up theirsleeves, and the mighty muscles on those arms of woven steel roseand fell as they sent the boat swiftly with the silver current ofthe Susquehanna.

　　Mary Newton still lay on the bottom of the boat. The childrenhad cried out in fright once or twice at the sound of the firing,but she and Paul bad soothed them and kept them down. SomehowMary Newton had become possessed of a great faith. She noticedthe skill, speed, and success with which the five always worked,and, so long given up to despair, she now went to the otherextreme. With such friends as these coming suddenly out of thevoid, everything must succeed. She had no doubt of it, but laypeacefully on the bottom of the boat, not at all disturbed by thesound of the shots.

　　Paul and Sol after a while relieved Long Jim and Tom at the oars.The Iroquois thought it a chance to creep up again, but they weredriven back by a third bullet, and once more kept their distance.Shif'less Sol, while he pulled as powerfully as Tom Ross, whoseplace he had taken, nevertheless was not silent.

　　"I'd like to know the feelin's o' Braxton Wyatt an' that fellerButler," he said. " Must be powerful tantalizin' to them to seeus here, almost where they could stretch out their hands an' put'em on us. Like reachn' fur ripe, rich fruit, an' failin' to gitit by half a finger's length."

　　"They are certainly not pleased," said Henry," but this must endsome way or other, you know."

　　"I say so, too, now that I'm a-rowin'," rejoined the shiftlessone, "but when my turn at the oars is finished I wouldn't care.Ez I've said more'n once before, floatin' down a river withsomebody else pullin' at the oars is the life jest suited to me."

　　Henry looked up. "A summer thunderstorm is coming," he said, "and from the look of things it's going to be pretty black.Then's when we must dodge 'em."

　　He was a good weather prophet. In a half hour the sky began todarken rapidly. There was a great deal of thunder and lightning,but when the rain came the air was almost as dark as night. MaryNewton and her children were covered as much as possible with theblankets, and then they swung the boat rapidly toward the easternshore. They had already lost sight of their pursuers in thedarkness, and as they coasted along the shore they found a largecreek flowing into the river from the east.

　　They ran up the creek, and were a full mile from its mouth whenthe rain ceased. Then the sun came out bright and warm, quicklydrying everything.

　　They pulled about ten miles farther, until the creek grew tooshallow for them, when they hid the boat among bushes and took tothe land. Two days later they arrived at a strong fort andsettlement, where Mary Newton and her four children, safe andwell, were welcomed by relatives who had mourned them as dead.