CHAPTER V

A GRAND PALAVER

"OH! Dick, my boy, we could not let you go from us in that way!"

Of course Dick had expected that his mother would say something like this; but he looked more to his father for the consent that would mean so much. The very thought was staggering to those loving hearts; but in those days boys of fifteen and sixteen were so accustomed to thinking and doing for themselves that they were fully trusted by their elders. And, besides, mothers had been brought up in the hard school of experience, thus learning early in life to look upon danger as an ever-present thing.

If his father could be brought to see the desperate undertaking in the right light, Dick knew that the victory was as good as won; for the former would be able to convince the good wife and mother that it was, after all, a reasonable conclusion, as well as the sole hope of saving their imperiled homes.

Bob Armstrong shook his head, even while his eyes grew dim as they rested on Dick's eager face.

"God knows, your mother and I understand and appreciate the motive that prompts you to say that, my boy," he said; "but we could not accept the sacrifice that it would mean. If there is no other way to save our farms, then they must go, and we will have to take up some new land, and start in afresh."

"But, father, why should you feel that way?" the lad went on to say. "Can you not trust me in the woods? Have I ever failed to take every precaution, and up to now has anything serious ever happened to me?"

"No, it is not that, son," replied Bob; "a man could not wish to have a better boy than you have always been, and I wager you know more woodcraft right now than either your Uncle Sandy or myself had in our heads at your age. But it would not be right for us to stay comfortably at home here, while our sons were meeting with all manner of perils off in that unknown country."

Dick smiled on hearing that. He believed that, if there was no stronger argument against the venture, his case was already as good as won. And, having thought it all out, he now proceeded to knock away the props from under the structure founded by his father.

"Please look back, father, to your own boyhood days," he said, soberly. "How many times have you sat there, and told us of how you and Uncle Sandy started out by yourselves on the trail of that young Iroquois chief who carried Aunt Kate away. Yes, you followed him clear to the Great Lakes, to the country that was teeming with enemies. And, in spite of every peril, you and my uncle, with only the help of that old trapper Pat O'Mara, since gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds, and the friendly Indian, Blue Jacket, did rescue Aunt Kate, and even saved the life of Pontiac, who afterwards gave you the magic wampum belt that has kept us from harm all these years. Father, what I am saying is all true, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, every word of it, my son; but, then, the conditions were different at that time," replied the other, hastily. "Our sister had been carried off, my father was far away on the road to Virginia on important business, and there was no one else to go in search of Kate, so brother Sandy and myself _had_ to start out."

"Ah! yes, but you went willingly, eagerly, I know, father, just as we feel like doing now," the boy went on.

"But the life and happiness of our only sister was at stake, Dick," the father said, and yet in a half hesitating way, as though the argument of the boy was already beginning to have its effect.

"Well, the future happiness of _three_ families is at stake now, father. And if in those days you and Uncle Sandy could face the perils of the wilderness, and win out, why should not Roger and I do the same now? All we would have to do would be to follow up the course of the river, week after week, until we caught the expedition; and then keep on with them until Jasper Williams joined them, as he expects to do by the time they reach the Mandan country. After that, having secured his signature to the paper, we could bring it back to you. Why, what could be easier than that? And think of all it means to us, father!"

"Yes, yes, I understand, Dick, and Heaven knows I feel like giving my consent. But it is no light matter, to be settled off-hand in a minute. I have your mother's feelings to consider. She would be loath to see you leave us, and plunge into that unknown country that lies toward the setting sun."

"But, father, I have heard you say many times that you often had a longing yourself to go there, and if you were not the head of a family the temptation might have been more than you could stand. Yes, and Uncle Sandy echoed your words, and looked forlorn for a whole day, as though he had to light with the desire to once more become a pioneer, and explore new countries."

Bob Armstrong smiled, and glanced toward his wife, who shook her head, not trusting herself to speech. But Dick felt encouraged, and believed he had made great progress toward gaining the consent of both parents.

There remained one trump card to play--Grandfather Armstrong, who always sympathized with his grandsons in their ambitions, and who would be apt to look back to those days when he, as a father, trusted his own sons in every undertaking that could happen in the lives of young pioneers along the Ohio and the Mississippi.

"By now, Uncle Sandy and Roger must be over at Grandfather Armstrong's cabin; and I promised that we would meet them there for a talk. You will not object to hearing what he has to say, father, I hope?" Dick went on.

"I can see what the result will be if Grandfather takes a hand in it," remarked Bob, with a shrug of his shoulders; "but then, it seems to be a case of 'old men for council; young men for war,' and we surely ought to listen to what he has to say of the project, after he has heard both sides."

The younger boy, Sam, who had been listening to all this amazing talk with eagerness, now broke in with:

"But I can shoot a rifle as well as Dick, and know lots about trailing, and all those things Pat O'Mara used to teach me before he died; why must I stay at home if Dick goes, father?"

"That would never do!" declared Dick, immediately. "Mother could not stand the absence of both her boys at the same time. Who would do the hunting and fishing then, while father worked the farm? Where would the meat come from, Sam? No; if I go, you must take my place, and show what you can do. Besides, while you are strong for your years, a boy of twelve could hardly expect to keep up with those who are so much older. Oh! no, it would not do at all."

Sam was inclined to protest, but he saw his mother's grieved face; and something there seemed to give his heart a wrench. Perhaps it was the thought of being separated from her by hundreds of miles of wilderness, never, perhaps, to see her again in this life; for, after all, Sam was only a very young boy, and he had not been tried so severely as his father and uncle in their early days.

"Oh, well, I suppose I'll have to stay home, and take your place, Dick; but some fine day I mean to see that Golden West for myself, remember that," he said, and, somehow, his taking it for granted that the parents' consent was sure to be given to his brother's daring project did more to hasten the decision than anything that had as yet occurred.

"Come," remarked Bob, "let us all go to Grandfather Armstrong's, and talk it over. I want to see what Sandy thinks, before I make up my mind;" but Dick knew from his father's manner that already he had been partly won over.

So they all trooped out, and were soon entering the central cabin.

David Armstrong was now getting quite old. Thirty years had passed since he came down the Ohio on a flatboat, seeking a new home in the wilderness; and his hair was as white as the snows that came with each succeeding winter. He was not able to do much manual labor himself, but hired help to look after his extensive holdings, that already had increased ten times in value, and would be worth a fortune later on, if they could only manage to retain possession of them.

Evidently the old man and his wife had been told of the bold proposition which Dick and Roger had made, for his dimmed eyes rested fondly on his other grandson as Dick entered the big cabin.

David loved these boys even as he had his own sons. He had watched their growth into young manhood, and in every way fostered their good traits. And, knowing what they were capable of doing, if any one was able to decide whether they could be entrusted with such a dangerous mission it should be Grandfather Armstrong.

Sandy was almost as sturdy a man as his brother Bob, and his wife was a fine helpmeet for a pioneer. There was none her equal in all that region when it came to putting up sweets for the long winter season and in carrying out the numerous responsibilities that a housewife in those times had to take upon her shoulders.

But just now Phoebe Armstrong seemed dumb with the dread that had seized her, after hearing what an undertaking her only boy proposed embarking upon.

Aunt Kate, too, was there, a buxom young woman, who had helped to mother all the children of her two brothers as they came along; and now took upon herself many of the duties that were proving too arduous for her mother, not so strong as in the years long gone by. And the last member of the group was little Mary, Sandy's daughter, a winsome child of seven, with flaxen hair, and eyes rivaling the blue skies and who, as already mentioned, had been named after Grandmother Armstrong.

And then the grand "powwow," as Roger called it, began, the boys stating their case, and begging hard to be allowed to carry out the plan they had set their hearts on. Both fathers also entered into the discussion, but the mothers only listened, rather white of face, but evidently willing that such an important matter should be settled by the heads of the houses.

All the while Grandfather Armstrong sat there, smoking his long pipe, and listening to what was said. And after all had been argued, fathers and boys seemed to turn toward the old man for a decision.

Removing his pipe, David Armstrong looked around at the row of eager as well as anxious faces, and, speaking slowly, delivered himself of his decision.

"I think," he said, very solemnly, "that these brave boys should be allowed to show what they are made of, and try to save for their parents the homes we have planted here in this beautiful spot. And so, let them make the venture!"