Chapter I. Into the Unknown

by Joseph A. Altsheler

　　It was a white caravan that looked down from the crest of themountains upon the green wilderness, called by the Indians,Kain-tuck-ee. The wagons, a score or so in number, were coveredwith arched canvas, bleached by the rains, and, as they stoodthere, side by side, they looked like a snowdrift against theemerald expanse of forest and foliage.

　　The travelers saw the land of hope, outspread before them, a widesweep of rolling country, covered with trees and canebrake, cutby streams of clear water, flowing here and there, and shining inthe distance, amid the green, like threads of silver wire. Allgazed, keen with interest and curiosity, because this unknownland was to be their home, but none was more eager than HenryWare, a strong boy of fifteen who stood in front of the wagonsbeside the guide, Tom Ross, a tall, lean man the color of welltanned leather, who would never let his rifle go out of his hand,and who had Henry's heartfelt admiration, because he knew so muchabout the woods and wild animals, and told such strange andabsorbing tales of the great wilderness that now lay before them.

　　But any close observer who noted Henry Ware would always havelooked at him a second time. He was tall and muscled beyond hisyears, and when he walked his figure showed a certain lithenessand power like that of the forest bred. His gaze was rapid,penetrating and inclusive, but never furtive. He seemed to fitinto the, picture of the wilderness, as if he had taken a spacereserved there for him, and had put himself in complete harmonywith all its details.

　　The long journey from their old home in Maryland had been asource of unending variety and delight to Henry. There had beenno painful partings. His mother and his brother and young sisterwere in the fourth wagon from the right, and his father stoodbeside it. Farther on in the same company were his uncles andaunts, and many of the old neighbors. All had come together. Itwas really the removal of a village from an old land to a newone, and with the familiar faces of kindred and friends aroundthem, they were not lonely in strange regions, though mountainsfrowned and dark forests lowered.

　　It was to Henry a return rather than a removal. He almostfancied that in some far-off age he had seen all these thingsbefore. The forests and the mountains beckoned in friendlyfashion; they had no terrors, for even their secrets lay openbefore him. He seemed to breathe a newer and keener air thanthat of the old land left behind, and his mind expanded with thethought of fresh pleasures to come. The veteran guide, Ross,alone observed how the boy learned, through intuition, ways ofthe wilderness that others achieved only by hard experience.

　　They had met fair weather, an important item in such a journey,and there had been no illness, beyond trifling ailments quicklycured. As they traveled slowly and at their ease, it took them along time to pass through the settled regions. This part of thejourney did not interest Henry so much. He was eager for theforests and the great wilderness where his fancy had already gonebefore. He wanted to see deer and bears and buffaloes, treesbigger than any that grew in Maryland, and mountains and mightyrivers. But they left the settlements behind, at last and cameto the unbroken forest. Here he found his hopes fulfilled. Theywere on the first slopes of the mountains that divide Virginiafrom Kentucky, and the bold, wild nature of the country pleasedhim. He had never seen mountains before, and he felt the dignityand grandeur of the peaks.

　　Sometimes he went on ahead with Tom Ross, the guide, his chosenfriend, and then he considered himself, in very truth, a man, orsoon to become one, because he was now exploring the unknown,leading the way for a caravan-and there could be no moreimportant duty. At such moments he listened to the talk of theguide who taught the lesson that in the wilderness it was alwaysimportant to see and to listen, a thing however that Henryalready knew instinctively. He learned the usual sounds of thewoods, and if there was any new noise he would see what made it.He studied, too, the habits of the beasts and birds. As forfishing, he found that easy. He could cut a rod with his claspknife, tie a string to the end of it and a bent pin to the end ofa string, and with this rude tackle he could soon catch in themountain creeks as many fish as he wanted.

　　Henry liked the nights in the mountains; in which he did notdiffer from his fellow-travelers. Then the work of the day wasdone; the wagons were drawn up in a half circle, the horses andthe oxen were resting or grazing under the trees, and, as theyneeded fires for warmth as well as cooking, they built them highand long, giving room for all in front of the red coals if theywished. The forest was full of fallen brushwood, as dry astinder, and Henry helped gather it. It pleased him to see theflames rise far up, and to hear them crackle as they ate into theheart of the boughs. He liked to see their long red shadows fallacross the leaves and grass, peopling the dark forest with fiercewild animals; he would feel all the cozier within the scarlet rimof the firelight. Then the men would tell stories, particularlyRoss, the guide, who had wandered much and far in Kentucky. Hesaid that it was a beautiful land. He spoke of the noble forestsof beech and hickory and maple, the dense cane break, the manyrivers, and the great Ohio that received them all-the BeautifulRiver, the Indians called it-and the game, with which forests andopen alike swarmed, the deer, the elk, the bear, the panther, andthe buffalo. Now and then, when the smaller were asleep in thewagons and the larger ones were nodding before the fires, the menwould sink their voices and speak of a subject which made themall look very grave indeed. It sounded like Indians, and the menmore than once glanced at their powderhorns.

　　But the boy, when he heard them, did not feel afraid. He knewthat savages of the most dangerous kind often came into theforests of Kentucky, whither they were going, but he thrilledrather than shivered at the thought. Already he seemed to havethe knowledge that he would be a match for them at any game theywished to play.

　　Henry usually slept very soundly, as became a boy who was on hisfeet nearly all day, and who did his share of the work; but twoor three times he awoke far in the night, and, raising himself upin the wagon, peeped out between the canvas cover and the woodenbody. He saw a very black night in which the trees looked asthin and ghostly as shadows, and smoldering fires, beside whichtwo men rifle on shoulder, always watched. Often he had a wishto watch with them, but he said nothing, knowing that the otherswould hold him too young for the task.

　　But to-day he felt only joy and curiosity. They were now on thecrest of the last mountain ridge and before them lay the greatvalley of Kentucky; their future home. The long journey wasover. The men took off their hats and caps and raised a cheer,the women joined through sympathy and the children shouted, too,because their fathers and mothers did so, Henry's voice risingwith the loudest.

　　A slip of a girl beside Henry raised an applauding treble and hesmiled protectingly at her. It was Lucy Upton, two years youngerthan himself, slim and tall, dark-blue eyes looking from underbroad brows, and dark-brown curls, lying thick and close upon ashapely head.

　　"Are you not afraid?" she asked.

　　"Afraid of what?" replied Henry Ware, disdainfully.

　　"Of the forests over there in Kentucky. They say that thesavages often come to kill."

　　"We are too strong. I do not fear them."

　　He spoke without any vainglory, but in the utmost confidence.She glanced covertly at him. He seemed to her strong and full ofresource. But she would not show her admiration.

　　They passed from the mountain slope into a country which now sankaway in low, rolling hills like the waves of the sea and in whicheverything grew very beautiful. Henry had never seen such treesin the East. The beech, the elm, the hickory and the maplereached gigantic proportions, and wherever the shade was not toodense the grass rose heavy and rank. Now and then they passedthickets of canebrake, and once, at the side of a stream, theycame to a salt "lick." It was here that a fountain spouted fromthe base of a hill, and, running only a few feet, emptied into acreek. But its waters were densely impregnated with salt, andall around its banks the soft soil was trodden with hundreds offootsteps.

　　"The wild beasts made these," said the guide to Henry. They comehere at night: elk, deer, buffalo, wolves, and all the others,big and little, to get the salt. They drink the water and theylick up the salt too from the ground."

　　A fierce desire laid hold of the boy at these words. He had asmall rifle of his own, which however he was not permitted tocarry often. But he wanted to take it and lie beside the pool atnight when the game came down to drink. The dark would have noterrors for him, nor would he need companionship. He knew whatto do, he could stay in the bush noiseless and motionless forhours, and he would choose only the finest of the deer and thebear. He could see himself drawing the bead, as a great buckcame down in the shadows to the fountain and he thrilled withpleasure at the thought. Each new step into the wildernessseemed to bring him nearer home.

　　Their stay beside the salt spring was short, but the next nightthey built the fire higher than ever because just after dark theyheard the howling of wolves, and a strange, long scream, like theshriek of a woman, which the men said was the cry of a panther.There was no danger, but the cries sounded lonesome andterrifying, and it took a big fire to bring back gaiety.

　　Henry had not yet gone to bed, but was sitting in his favoriteplace beside the guide, who was calmly smoking a pipe, and hefelt the immensity of the wilderness. He understood why thepeople in this caravan clung so closely to each other. They weresimply a big family, far away from anybody else, and the woods,which curved around them for so many hundreds of miles, held themtogether.

　　The men talked more than usual that night, but they did not tellstories; instead they asked many questions of the guide about thecountry two days' journey farther on, which, Ross said, was sogood, and it was agreed among them that they should settle therenear the banks of a little river.

　　"It's the best land I ever saw," said Ross, "an' as there's lotsof canebrake it won't be bad to clear up for farmin'. I trappedbeaver in them parts two years ago, an' I know."

　　This seemed to decide the men, and the women, too, for they hadtheir share in the council. The long, journey was soon to end,and all looked pleased, especially the women. The great questionsettled, the men lighted their pipes and smoked a while, insilence before the blazing fires. Henry watched them and wishedthat he too was a man and could take part in these evening talks.He was excited by the knowledge that their journey was to end sosoon, and he longed to see the valley in which they were to buildtheir homes. He climbed into the wagon at last but he could notsleep. His beloved rifle, too, was lying near him, and once hereached out his hand and touched it.

　　The men, by and by, went to the wagons or, wrapping themselves inblankets, slept before the flames. Only two remained awake andon guard. They sat on logs near the outskirts of the camp andheld their rifles in their hands.

　　Henry dropped the canvas edge and sought sleep, but it would notcome. Too many thoughts were in his mind. He was trying toimagine the beautiful valley, described by Ross, in which theywere to build their houses. He lifted the canvas again after awhile and saw that the fires had sunk lower than ever. The twomen were still sitting on the logs and leaning lazily againstupthrust boughs. The wilderness around them was very black, andtwenty yards away, even the outlines of the trees were lost inthe darkness.

　　Henry's sister who was sleeping at the other end of the wagon.awoke and cried for water. Mr. Ware raised himself sleepily, butHenry at once sprang up and offered to get it. "All right," Mr.Ware said.

　　Henry quickly slipped on his trousers and taking the tin cup inhis hand climbed out of the wagon.

　　He was in his bare feet, but like other pioneer boys he scornedshoes in warm weather, and stubble and pebbles did not troublehim.

　　The camp was in a glade and the spring was just at the edge ofthe woods-they stopped at night only by the side of runningwater, which was easy to find in this region. Near the springsome of the horses and two of the oxen were tethered to stoutsaplings. As Henry approached, a horse neighed, and he noticedthat all of them were pulling on their ropes. The two carelessguards were either asleep or so near it that they took no noticeof what was passing, and Henry, unwilling to call their attentionfor fear he might seem too forward, walked among the animals, butwas still unable to find the cause of the trouble. He kneweveryone by name and nature, and they knew him, for they had beencomrades on a long journey, and he patted their backs and rubbedtheir noses and tried to soothe them. They became a littlequieter, but he could not remain any longer with them because hissister was waiting at the wagon for the water. So he went to thespring and, stooping down, filled his cup.

　　When Henry rose to his full height, his eyes happened to beturned toward the forest, and there, about seven or eight feetfrom the ground, and not far from him he saw two coals of fire.He was so startled that the cup trembled in his hand, and dropsof water fell splashing back into the spring. But he staredsteadily at the red points, which he now noticed were movingslightly from side to side, and presently he saw behind them thedim outlines of a long and large body. He knew that this must bea panther. The habits of all the wild animals, belonging to thisregion, had been described to him so minutely by Ross that he wassure he could not be mistaken. Either it was a very hungry or avery ignorant panther to hover so boldly around a camp full ofmen and guns.

　　The panther was crouched on a bough of a tree, as if ready tospring, and Henry was the nearest living object. It must be heat whom the great tawny body would be launched. But as a minutepassed and the panther did not move, save to sway gently, hiscourage rose, especially when he remembered a saying of Ross thatit was the natural impulse of all wild animals to run from man.So he began to back away, and he heard behind him the horsestrampling about in alarm. The lazy guards still dozed and allwas quiet at the wagons. Now Henry recalled some knowledge thathe had learned from Ross and he made a resolve. He would show,at a time, when it was needed, what he really could do. Hedropped his cup, rushed to the fire, and picked up a long brand,blazing at one end.

　　Swinging his torch around his tread until it made a perfectcircle of flame he ran directly toward the panther, uttering aloud shout as he ran. The animal gave forth his woman's cry,this time a shriek of terror, and leaping from the bough spedwith catlike swiftness into the forest.

　　All the camp was awake in an instant, the men springing out ofthe wagons, gun in hand ready for any trouble. When they sawonly a boy, holding a blazing torch above his head, they weredisposed to grumble, and the two sleepy guards, seeking an excusefor themselves, laughed outright at the tale that Henry told.But Mr. Ware believed in the truth of his son's words, and theguide, who quickly examined the ground near the tree, said therecould be no doubt that Henry had really seen the panther, and hadnot been tricked by his imagination. The great tracks of thebeast were plainly visible in the soft earth.

　　"Pushed by hunger, an' thinking there was no danger, he mighthave sprung on one of our colts or a calf," said Ross, "an' nodoubt the boy with his ready use of a torch has saved us from aloss. It was a brave thing for him to do."

　　But Henry took no pride in their praise. It was no part of hisambition merely to drive away a panther, instead he had thehunter's wish to kill him. He would be worthy of the wilderness.

　　Henry despite his lack of pride found the world very beautifulthe next 'day. It was a fair enough scene. Nature had done herpart, but his joyous mind gave to it deeper and more vividcolors. The wind was blowing from the south, bringing upon itsbreath the odor of wild flowers, and all the forest was greenwith the tender green of young spring. The cotton-tailed haresthat he called rabbits ran across their path. Squirrels talkedto one another in the tree tops, and defiantly threw the shellsof last year's nuts at the passing travelers. Once they saw astag bending down to drink at a brook, and when the forest kingbeheld them he raised his head, and merely stared at thesestrange new invaders of the wilds. Henry admired his beautifulform and splendid antlers nor would he have fired at him had iteven been within orders. The deer gazed at them a few moments,and then, turning and tossing his head, sped away through theforest.

　　All that he saw was strange and grand to Henry, and he loved thewilderness. About noon he and Ross went back to the wagons andthat night they encamped on the crest of a range of low andgrassy hills. This was the rim of the valley that they hadselected on the guide's advice as their future home, and thelittle camp was full of the liveliest interest in the morrow,because it is a most eventful thing, when you are going to choosea place which you intend shall be your home all the rest of yourdays. So the men and women sat late around the fires and evenboys of Henry's age were allowed to stay up, too, and listen tothe plans which all the grown people were making. Theirs had notbeen a hard journey, only long and tedious-though neither toHenry-and now that its end was at hand, work must be begun. Theywould have homes to build and a living to get from the ground.

　　"Why, I could live under the trees; I wouldn't want a house,"whispered Henry to the guide, "and when I needed anything to eat,I'd kill game."

　　"A hunter might do that," replied Ross, "but we're not allhunters an' only a few of us can be. Sometimes the game ain'tstandin' to be shot at just when you want it, an' as for sleepin'under the trees it's all very fine in summer, if it don't rain,but it would be just a least bit chilly in winter when the bigsnows come as they do sometimes more'n a foot deep. I'm a huntermyself, an' I've slept under trees an' in caves, an' on thesheltered side of hills, but when the weather's cold give me fortrue comfort a wooden floor an' a board roof. Then I'll bargainto sleep to the king's taste."

　　But Henry was not wholly convinced. He felt in himself the powerto meet and overcome rain or cold or any other kind of weather.

　　Everybody in the camp, down to the tiniest child, was awake thenext morning by the time the first bar of gray in the eastbetokened the coming day. Henry was fully dressed, and saw thesun rise in a magnificent burst of red and gold over the valleythat was to be their valley. The whole camp beheld thespectacle. They had reached the crest of the hill the eveningbefore, too late to get a view and they were full of the keenestcuriosity.

　　It was now summer, but, having been a season of plenteous rains,grass and foliage were of the most vivid and intense green. Theywere entering one of the richest portions of Kentucky, and theuntouched soil was luxuriant with fertility. As a pioneerhimself said: "All they had to do was to tickle it with a hoe,and it laughed into a harvest." There was the proof of itsstrength in the grass and the trees. Never before had thetravelers seen oaks and beeches of such girth or elms andhickories of such height. The grass was high and thick and thecanebrake was so dense that passage through it seemed impossible.Down the center of the valley, which was but one of many,separated from each other by low easy hills, flowed a littleriver, cleaving its center like a silver blade.

　　It was upon this beautiful prospect that the travels saw the sunrise that morning and all their troubles and labors rolled away.Even the face of Mr. Ware who rarely yielded to enthusiasmkindled at the sight and, lifting his hand, he made with it acircle that described the valley.

　　"There," he said. "There is our home waiting for us."

　　"Hurrah!" cried Henry, flinging aloft his cap. "We've come home."

　　Then the wagon train started again and descended into the valley,which in very truth and fact was to be "home."