CHAPTER II

THE CABIN IN THE CLEARING

DAVID ARMSTRONG, the father of the two young hunters, was descended from a fine old Scotch family. At the death of his father he inherited a considerable estate, but the loss of his parent made the thought of remaining in the old home too painful to him, and he decided to leave Scotland and seek a new home. He consequently sold everything he possessed and, with his young wife and little children, sailed for the new country beyond the sea, and settled at Richmond, where he engaged in the tobacco business.

For some years he prospered, but trouble finally overtook him. A relative, whom he had taken into partnership, betrayed his confidence, with the result that one day David awoke to find that he had the experience, while this cousin possessed the money that had been invested.

Even in those primitive days there were courts where those who believed they had been wronged could seek redress, and David would have failed to do credit to his Scotch ancestry had he not been a fighter. He believed he had a good case against this relative who had swindled him, and he tried to press the matter.

But, somewhat discouraged by the constant delays, he made up his mind at last to leave for a point further west, and begin life anew under more humble conditions.

He had come westward from the region around Richmond, and settled near a small town, where he secured employment at the tobacco warehouse of a certain Jason Diggett, the richest man in that region. He did his work faithfully as the days and months went by, seldom complaining, so long as he had his dearly beloved wife, and his three children to comfort him; yet never ceasing to hope that he would hear good news from Richmond, and receive his own again from the clever relative who had tricked him.

He was anxious to do all he could for his three children, Kate, Robert and Alexander; and sent them regularly to the little schoolhouse, where they learned the rudiments of reading and figuring, which among many persons in those days were considered all the education required to carry one through life.

The family spent some very happy years in the little cabin that stood in a clearing. The boys knew nearly every one in the town; and as they grew older began to show themselves capable of assisting in the task of supporting the family. Often they brought in game from the forest, and in the season their traps yielded them quite a little harvest in the pelts of otter, muskrat, mink, fox, badger and wildcat.

Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue sky, trouble swooped down upon the Armstrongs. David had some difficulty with his employer, and was discharged, since he was too proud to seek a reconciliation, when he fully believed himself to be in the right.

Then, one night, the tobacco barn of Jason Diggett burned to the ground, entailing quite a loss. Suspicion alighted on David, simply because it was known that between the two men ill feelings existed.

So David was arrested, and held in the town blockhouse for a whole week; but, there being no actual proof against him, he was allowed to go free. That had been more than a month before, and, ever since, most of the people who had once called themselves his friends had turned their heads aside when by chance they met. The odor of guilt clung to his skirts, for, even though the law had declared it had no evidence upon which to base conviction, people _believed_ he must be guilty, since some one had surely set fire to the barn, and who besides David had any grudge against Jason Diggett?

Armstrong fretted greatly over the injustice of such action, and it took all the tact of his wife, Mary, to keep him from doing some rash act.

"If this keeps up much longer, wife," he would say, after a fresh exhibition of coldness and aloofness on the part of those who had once called him friend, "we must leave here for good, and go further into the wilderness. It is useless for me to look further for work, since no one wishes to employ a _barn-burner_!"

His loving wife would labor to cheer him up as only a loyal woman could. Possessed of a sunny disposition, trusting by nature, and above all imbued with a strong sense of God's goodness, Mary Armstrong refused to lose heart.

"It will surely come out all right, husband," she would say, as her loving hands smoothed the frown away from his forehead; "we must have patience, and do our part. To-morrow, perhaps the day after; but in His good time it will all be well."

And, although David had vowed he would not again seek work in that bitter community, when another day arrived, her sweet influence over him was so great that once more he would stalk forth, moodily, but with his spirit still uncrushed.

It was a momentous time in the history of the colonies. For many months there had been heard mutterings of the storm that was later to break at Lexington and Bunker Hill. Already people were taking sides, even in the more distant settlements, and were either patriots or loyalists, according to the way they looked at things.

But David Armstrong gave little thought to such matters, for his own troubles were so exceedingly weighty that he could think of little else.

There was much talk of daring pioneers journeying still further into that wonderful country beyond the great mountains; and again and again did he brood over the possibilities that might await the forerunners of civilization there.

Those who had made the trip, and returned, gave such glowing descriptions of the amazing fertility of the black soil, and the astounding number of game animals to be had for the mere shooting, that it was small wonder the harassed borderer's mind turned westward many times, and he was only waiting for some climax to arrive ere packing up and moving toward the land of the setting sun.

On the very morning that the two boys started out on their memorable hunt for fresh venison, David had taken new courage, and once more ventured to look for work.

"The very last time, wife, mark you," he had solemnly declared as he kissed her good-bye, and she knew that finally he had indeed reached the parting of the ways; for, if his quest was now in vain, he would never ask a favor of these town people again.

During the month when David had been idle, and the one that followed his release from the blockhouse strong-room, it can be understood that things were at low ebb in the home of the Armstrongs.

At no time had they been able to accumulate any amount ahead of their constant needs; so that very soon they hardly knew where to turn for money with which to purchase the few necessities of life.

Robert and Sandy sold what few skins they had collected; then they busied themselves hunting, and trying to trap more animals; but the winter had been unusually severe, and trappers reported a scarcity of pelts.

Recently even little Kate, just fourteen, had hired out to a neighboring family, as the daughters of the pioneers often did, without losing any of their self-respect, or standing.

Mrs. Armstrong worked at her various tasks as the day advanced. Noon came and went, and the sky clouded up with evil portents of snow, for the air was raw and had all the ominous attributes which these woods-dwellers knew presaged a storm.

Frequently she would step outside the humble log cabin to look around, and see whether either the boys or her husband could be coming. Then her troubled eyes would scan the bleak heavens, and note that already the first flakes of snow, forerunners of the mighty storm to come, were drifting along on the rising wind that was moaning through the sentinel oak at the back of the cabin.

She wished the boys were safe at home, though she was so confident of their ability to take care of themselves, no matter under what difficulties, that she did not as yet once allow herself to fear actual danger to them.

They had all their lives been accustomed to roaming the woods, and knew how to grapple with such emergencies as hunters may expect to meet.

The afternoon had begun to decline, and the snow was coming down heavily, when David arrived home. Little need for his wife to look twice to understand what his dejected manner indicated.

"It's no use, wife," he said, moodily, a frown on his strong face; "everything's working against me here, and I doubt if I have a single real friend in all the community. The poison has done its work, and there is no employment here for a man suspected of being a barn-burner. I've been turned away by a man I believed would take my word as quick as my bond. And I tell you I'm done. Never again will I demean myself asking favors on my knees, just because my family may be in need."

And wise Mary Armstrong, realizing that the strong man had indeed gone to the limit of his strength, knew that there must come a change. It were folly to continue to beat one's head against the wall. Better find some way of less resistance, and allow the current to carry them on.

"We have each other, David," she said, sturdily, as became a pioneer wife and mother; "and as long as health remains we must not complain. See, I give in entirely to you. Let us leave here at the very first chance, and in a new country try to secure contentment, even though we may not find happiness as long as this cloud hangs over your head. Cheer up! With three fine children, and a husband whom I respect and love, I am content. The darkest cloud has a silver lining. Wait, and hope!"

"Then you consent that we shall emigrate to the land beyond the mountains, to the banks of that beautiful stream they call the Ohio, of which we have heard so much?"

It had been a vague dream with David for some time, and the prospect of being able to carry it into actual execution in the near future began to arouse him; so that he threw off his moody spirits, and showed rising animation.

"Yes, anything that you think wise," Mary went on calmly, though her heart was sore, "I am ready to undertake. But, of course, we could not think of starting until some caravan arrives here in the spring, headed that way. You were telling of one that was expected."

"Yes," said David, eagerly, "the last time Pat O'Mara, the trapper, was here, he was speaking of that famous hunter, Daniel Boone, and how he had organized an expedition in Carolina that was to pass up along this way in the spring, headed for the mountain passes and the bank of the great Ohio. We must be ready to throw our poor fortunes in with them when they reach here. I only hope and pray that new friends may be more merciful than old ones."

"I wish the boys were safe at home, for it promises to be a hard storm, from the looks of things," said the fond mother, anxiously.

David's eyes sparkled with a look of pride in his offspring.

"Fear nothing for those two lads. To Robert the secrets of the woods are as an open book; and I would trust them to even go over the great mountain trail alone. They have their guns, and will know how to protect themselves from the storm. In due time we shall see them again, Heaven willing."

It was his turn now to comfort, a new role for David Armstrong; but he knew, better than did his wife, how those half-grown boys had become familiar with the perils of the wilderness, and understood how to meet them almost as well as the oldest and most experienced forest ranger.

The day gradually came to a close, and when evening had drawn near, so that the kettle was singing over the flames, and supper cooking, Mary Armstrong went often to the door to peer out into the howling storm, as if still hoping that her brave boys would show up, like white ghosts, to join them at the humble and scanty repast.

But presently the time came when she and her husband had to sit down to the board alone, for no cheery hail came out of the gloomy night; but even then the mother would not let David see how worried she felt. She insisted upon talking about the Promised Land beyond the mountain chain, and asked him scores of questions concerning it, so that he could not dream how her mother heart felt cold with new-born fears, and how her ears were ever attuned to the wild music of the raging storm, in which, _somewhere_, far away, she realized her two boys must be caught.

Later grew the hour. David had brought in a goodly supply of firewood, for so long as they could wield an axe there was always a bountiful amount of this at their very door, to be had for the cutting. Then they prepared to retire for the night, the settler in a better humor than he had been exhibiting for weeks; for at last he began to see a way out of the terrible difficulty that had so long been confronting them.

And while he slept, and dreamed of that wonderful land of plenty along the border of the Ohio River, Mary lay awake, her gentle heart filled with unspoken prayers concerning the safety of their boys.