CHAPTER XXIV

THE FEATHERED MESSAGE

"LOOK up there on the roof of the cabin! What can it be?"

It was about a week after the return of the two boys from the Shawanee village. During this time they had made several trips into the great forest, and never failed to bring home game, for there seemed a great abundance around the new settlement on the Ohio.

The men had used their keen-edged axes well, and the trees were falling fast. It was even hoped that the small gardens would prove profitable, and that they might have other crops, besides the Indian corn that grew so well in this climate.

The brief visit of Daniel Boone and his comrades had had one natural effect upon the two brothers. They began to copy the frontiersman style of dress, as the best fitted for the life they expected to lead from this time forward.

Moccasins they had already; but now their mother was called upon to fashion for her boys hunting tunics of tanned buckskin, which in turn were fringed, as had been those worn by Kenton and the others. Besides, covering for their legs was made from the same material, and appeared similarly decorated.

Bob had made a cap for himself out of the well-tanned skins of several raccoons he had trapped, with one of the beautifully marked tails dangling down the back, like that of his hero, Simon Kenton.

Sandy, on his part, had done the same with some skins of gray squirrels, also using the bushy tails to complete the adornment, so that together the Armstrong boys presented a hunter-like appearance by the time these various additions to their wardrobe were completed.

When they appeared in these new outfits both lads felt that they could now begin to call themselves pioneers in earnest.

On this particular day Bob and Sandy had planned a delightful trip up the river in their canoe, seeking new fields for hunting; and looking into the possibilities of the region for the trapping season, that would begin when the leaves were dropping from the trees in October.

It was Sandy who had given utterance to the exclamation with which this chapter opens. Bob had followed him out of the cabin. The sun was just peeping above the wooded hills away off in the east, and they sniffed the early morning air with delight; but one who could read the signs of the weather might have seen something about the coppery hue of that rising orb that showed that the long delayed Spring rains would soon burst upon the country.

Seeing where Sandy was pointing, Bob also looked, and his surprise exceeded that of his younger brother when he saw the object that was sticking in the middle of the sloping roof.

"Why, it is a feathered Indian arrow!" he cried.

"How strange! And what can that be tied to it, Bob?" asked the other.

"Here, boost me up and I will get it; then we can tell all about it," answered Bob, who did not believe in wasting time in talk when the solution of the mystery was so easy to learn.

So Sandy gave him a hand, and the agile lad quickly gained the low roof; for the new cabin, while commodious, was only one story high, with a low loft above the living room and just under the roof.

Bob took the arrow from the roof. He seemed to use more or less vigor in order to extract the flint head, showing that it had come down with considerable force after its aerial flight.

"Oh! I remember now," said Sandy, suddenly arousing.

"What?" demanded the other, as he prepared to jump to the ground, holding the feathered missile carefully in one hand.

"Why," said Sandy, eagerly, "something seemed to arouse me just about daybreak. It sounded like a stone thrown against the house. But I thought father was up, and getting the fire ready, so mother could cook breakfast; and I went to sleep again. Bob, that must have been the time the arrow dropped on the roof!"

"Yes, that was the time," answered Bob; "for the one who held the bow could never have seen how to aim in the night, even though there was a moon."

"Aim, do you say, brother? Is it possible then he meant to stick that arrow in our roof rather than any other?" demanded Sandy, startled.

"I surely do believe it. See, here is a message fastened to the shaft by little threads drawn from the fibre of cane!" and Bob held up the piece of birch bark, which Sandy now saw contained various rude designs possibly drawn with a sharp-pointed eagle quill, dipped in the juice of the poke berry.

"Blue Jacket!" he exclaimed involuntarily, for suddenly he remembered that other unique message which the young Shawanee warrior had left, at the time he had slipped away from the cabin of the Armstrongs.

"Yes, that is the plainest thing of all," remarked Bob, "for you see here at the end there is what is meant to be the figure of a man, an Indian, too, for he has feathers in his hair; and his jacket is daubed with a blue stain. But what puzzles me is to read these signs. Come, sit down here. Perhaps two heads may prove better than one, and you are quick at such things."

"Oh! if only Pat O'Mara were here now, how quickly he would read it all," said Sandy, screwing up his forehead as he scanned the several lines of strange figures.

"This must mean the sun, all right," remarked Bob, pointing to the first rude representation in the line.

They both turned to look at the king of day as though understanding that the Indian artist meant to call their attention that way.

"Well," remarked Sandy, "the old fellow does look angry this morning. And then the sky all around has a coppery hue. That must mean more dry weather, brother."

But Bob shook his head. He had seen something more in those queer picture paintings that caught his attention.

"No, I think you are wrong, Sandy," he observed slowly. "See, here is what he surely means for rain pouring down. And further along is what must be the river rushing along, bank-full. I begin to see what it is, brother."

"A warning to the white settlers?" said Sandy quickly.

"What else can it mean? And look at this figure standing here; what do you make of him?" asked the other, pointing.

"Oh! I know!" cried Sandy, his face lighting up. "See how he is decked out with all sorts of things, bells and such! And in his hands he holds gourds that contain dried beans, to rattle when he shakes them. Yes, that must be the old medicine man I told you about. But what has he got to do with the rains?"

"Now I understand it all," declared Bob, with a smile.

"Then I wish you would tell me," remarked his brother, "for to tell the truth I don't seem able to grasp it."

"The old medicine man has been talking again with the Manitou," said Bob, "and has learned that the rain will soon come along, making a flood of the river. Perhaps he knows this from some sign, like the angry sun; but he pretends that the information was given to him from the Great Spirit."

"And Blue Jacket," cried Sandy, "believing all he says, has thought it worth while to come all the way over here, lame as he is, to warn us! That was good of him. He is afraid some of us may be caught napping. But how much better if he had only slipped into the settlement, and talked with us."

"But Blue Jacket is an Indian, with all the cunning and caution of the red men," Bob replied. "He knows that all palefaces do not think alike; and he feared lest a guard should shoot him on sight. No, I am glad he was wise. Think how we should grieve if he were killed in our midst."

"But about the warning? Shall you tell father, and have him spread the news?" asked the younger boy.

"To be sure. It can do no harm, even if it prove to be a false alarm. They will understand the motive that sent Blue Jacket over here again. And, Sandy, perhaps father may want us to give up that long canoe trip we had planned for to-day."

At that Sandy's face fell.

"Oh! I hope not!" he exclaimed, quickly. "For I have been looking forward ever so much to exploring that country away to the east, and up the river. Pat told us that on the other shore, above, the game was thicker than any place he knew. We must get off to-day, brother! What if the rain does come, we are neither sugar nor salt, but strong enough to stand much."

"Well, perhaps father may not think much of the old medicine man's belief. And, as you say, surely we are able to take care of ourselves. I am hoping myself that father may not forbid our going," said Bob.

So Sandy, with an object in view, made it a point, when they told their father of the strange warning sent by their good friend Blue Jacket, to speak of the medicine man as a great fraud, who was certainly not worth considering.

Whether David was influenced by what he said, or really believed the danger to be over-rated, he did not offer any particular objections to the boys' expedition.

"Hurrah!" cried Sandy, as they reached the place where the canoe was hauled up on the sandy beach. "Now for a jolly paddle up the river, and a visit to that unknown shore over the water, where buffalo and deer are as thick as peas, and asking to be shot."

Bob was not as enthusiastic, although doubtless he, too, anticipated more or less pleasure from the excursion. They did not expect to be back that night, unless their plans miscarried; but before another sun had set they meant to at least be on their way homeward.

Soon they were paddling merrily up the river. There was not a cloud overhead, and the sun seemed to give promise of exerting unusual warmth for so early in the season.

"Poor old medicine man," laughed Sandy, as he glanced around at the bright picture, and then thought of the warning message. "So we are to beware of the river's rising wrath, are we? Seems to be quiet enough just now, brother!"

"Yes," was all that Bob replied; for somehow he seemed to have some foreboding of coming trouble, though he did not want to tell Sandy of this, lest the light-hearted one laugh at his fears, which after all might come to nothing.

About noon they crossed to the other shore. Out in the middle of the river they found that it required considerable muscle to keep the canoe from losing in the fight with the swiftly gliding, though noiseless, current.

They determined not to land just yet. Sandy remembered how Pat O'Mara had told about a certain wonderful cove further up the stream, where they could hide their boat while they hunted. Besides, there was less danger of running across any hostiles the further they went in the direction of Fort Pitt; since after the last great Indian battle the red tribes had retreated westward.

It proved much further than they had been led to believe from what the Irish trapper had said; or else progress against that current was slower than they had calculated. At any rate, the hour was not far from sunset when they finally sighted the cove that was to be their landing place.