CHAPTER XXIV

KENTON'S LIFE WITH THE INDIANS

"MUST we wait for night to come, Bob, before we can make a move?" asked Sandy, as he and his brother sat back of the water curtain that concealed the wonderful cavern discovered by Simon Kenton.

"Why, what else could be done?" exclaimed Bob. "In the broad daylight, if we left this hiding-place, we might run across some hunting party of Senecas; or, perhaps, a group of other Indians returning to their own country. What a calamity that would prove, Sandy!"

"Yes, I understand," the younger boy replied, with a heavy sigh; "but how slowly the hours pass. They seem like lead to me. Every minute drags as if it stood for ten. I've tried to sleep; but the terrible position of our poor sister haunts me. And then I get to thinking of father. What if it was his party that the Indians attacked and killed."

"We can only hope on, and trust that all will come out well in the end," replied Bob, who only with a most determined effort was able to keep from falling into the same despondent condition that Sandy showed.

Truth to tell, there was good reason for his courage to be put to the test. By some accident Abijah Cook, the companion of Kenton on this long and hazardous trip to the country of the Great Lakes, had overheard some Indians talking, while he lay concealed in a dense thicket near the borders of the Seneca village.

Among other things which they discussed, was the information that a party of palefaces travelling eastward had been taken by surprise, and utterly wiped out of existence. Their scalps even then adorned the lodge-poles of a Shawanee village far to the southeast.

It was true that the one who carried this news had claimed that the party numbered a round ten, as many as the fingers on both hands, but Bob knew how such a thing might easily be stretched in the telling, and, while he pretended to scoff at the idea of their father's little party having fallen victims to the treachery of the red men, deep down in his heart he was conscious of a terrible chill every time his thoughts turned that way.

"But how is it we do not see our good friend, Blue Jacket?" continued Sandy. "He is not the one to desert us in such a terrible time as this."

"Never!" exclaimed Bob, positively. "Blue Jacket is faithful to the death. You do not see him just now because Kenton sent him to visit the village, and find out how the land lies."

"But dare he enter there, with Pontiac and all those other chiefs from distant tribes still present as guests of Kiashuta?" asked Sandy, puzzled.

"Why not," answered his brother, "when that is the very thing to make his coming seem perfectly natural. Blue Jacket is known as a coming man in his tribe. Some day, if he lives, he will become famous, and, Sandy, although I am sorry to say it, outside of our family I do not believe Blue Jacket loves the whites any too much."

"No," declared Sandy, quickly; "he has lost several dear relatives by the guns of the settlers. He was even engaged in trying to wipe out our little caravan at the time we saved his life, and won his eternal gratitude. I see now what you mean, Bob. He can enter the village of the Senecas, saying that he was on a mission for his far-away tribe, and, learning of the grand council, stopped to meet Pontiac."

"And to learn what the outcome of the grand palaver had been, so he might carry the news with him to his own people. I think he must be known to some of the other chiefs, who would vouch for him--Long Coat, the Delaware; Turtle Heart and Bald Eagle, of the same nation; and even Silver Heels, who, like our friend, is a full-blooded Shawanee. I am only worried about one thing, Sandy."

"Tell me what that may be, then," asked Bob's brother.

"When Blue Jacket comes face-to-face with Pontiac," the older pioneer boy went on, "will those far searching eyes of the great sachem look deep into his heart, and see that he has a double purpose in coming into the village? They say he has terrible eyes, that can read the secrets of the heart like the pages of a book."

"But Blue Jacket really has no cause for fear!" Sandy exclaimed. "His heart is with the plans of Pontiac, only, in this case, he would try and save our little sister to us."

"But," Bob continued, shaking his head seriously, "think what would happen to him if they knew he had been hidden in the sacred oak, and assisted two palefaces to overhear the council!"

"Well, they are not going to know that, for a while at least," declared Sandy; "unless one of our prisoners happens to get away. We must make sure that so great a disaster does not occur."

"Surely. But here is Simon Kenton coming to join us. I have wanted to ask him many things about the village of the Senecas, where our Kate is a prisoner, and perhaps, while we sit here, waiting for Blue Jacket's return, he may give us some account of what he has seen among the lodges of Kiashuta."

The borderer threw himself down beside them.

"What were you two talking about just now?" he remarked, smiling in his pleasant way, for Kenton was a most agreeable young fellow, with winning manners that made him many friends, even though Boone looked upon him as a firebrand because of his extreme recklessness in fighting the Indians.

"I was just saying to Sandy that, since you have been in the Seneca village several times, you might tell us some of the things you saw there. Is it a very large place; are the Senecas feeling bitter against the white settlers; and what do they do when not on the warpath?"

"Both times that I was among the Seneca lodges it was in disguise," smiled Kenton, always ready to give information when it lay in his power. "A friendly Indian decked me out in paint and feathers, and, as I speak the language almost as well as one of the natives, I had little difficulty. I was supposed to be a strolling Cayuga, and received as such."

"But on this present expedition you did not venture to go in among the lodges, because of the added danger, I suppose?" Bob asked, deeply interested.

"Yes," Kenton continued; "one night we stole past the guard, and scouted around; but the dogs got scent of us, and we found it best to leave in a hurry. There was more or less of a row; but the Indians doubtless believed that it had only been some bold wild animal that had invaded the village in search of food. We easily covered our tracks, and, after that, decided to simply hang about, waiting for the coming of Pontiac."

"Then you could not know anything about our sister, or the location of Black Beaver's lodge?" asked Sandy, in a disappointed tone.

"That is true," came the hunter's reply; "but all that information we expect the friendly Shawanee chief to pick up right now. He knows his business, and, depend on it, his report will cover the ground."

"I have always wanted to see the life of an Indian village," Bob went on; "but so far the chance has never come. Sandy, here, was a prisoner once in a Shawanee camp; but, as he was shut up in a wigwam until we managed to get him away, he saw little of what went on. As for me, I only had distant views of the place, and my curiosity was far from satisfied."

"And, on my part, I know the life of the Indian almost as well as I do that of my own kind," said Kenton, thoughtfully. "Many times have I spent a week among them, studying their ways, which have always had a strange fascination for me. Yes, one old chief was determined to adopt me, and I even had to steal away from his village as though I were a thief. I have hunted with the red men; watched their several dances in the seasons; learned many of their secret ways of curing skins, and drying meat for winter use; studied the magic that their medicine men pretend to employ in healing the sick, and casting out devils by all sorts of incantations and rattling of sacred gourds. Once I even assisted in securing the venom of the rattlesnake, which was to be used in poisoning the flint arrowheads they expected to use against their foes."

"I have heard of that more than once, but never met any one who had really seen how it was done," exclaimed Bob.

"Then I will tell you," Kenton immediately remarked; "for, after all, it is a very simple operation, though terrible enough. When all preparations have been made an extra large rattlesnake is found and brought to bay. As he rests in his coils they proceed to provoke him, by prodding with poles, until he is desperately angry, and launches his flat head out again and again, while his rattles buzz like a locust in the bush."

"Oh! we have come across many a rattlesnake," observed Sandy, "and have fully a dozen rattles at home to show for it. But they always give me a creepy feeling. I just can't help jumping every time I hear that dreadful warning."

"Having enraged the snake enough," Kenton went on, "a piece of liver is fastened to the end of a pole, and this is thrust up close to the coiled rattlesnake, which strikes hard and often at the meat. Later on this is allowed to turn green with the virus, and in this way a supply of poison is secured. But we ought to feel glad, boys, that the custom of poisoning arrows or spear points is as a rule frowned down upon by nearly all the tribes, as being too terrible. For, say what you will, I have found that there is a certain sense of honor among the redskins."

"Yes, we ought to be glad that is so," declared Bob. "I've known quite a few who received wounds from arrows shot from hickory bows in the hands of Indians, and, had the tips been dipped in poison, they would not now be alive to tell the story."

"And I myself could show you marks where the feathered barbs have torn my flesh," went on the young borderer, calmly. "After watching that operation with the serpent I was more than a little uneasy the next time I received a wound. But the red men themselves long ago frowned down upon such a terrible process, so we have little to fear in that quarter."

"Then it will be necessary, if Kate is rescued, that the village be entered under cover of darkness?" asked Bob.

"Without doubt that will be our plan," said Kenton. "I have been thinking it over, and arrived at a conclusion."

"Oh! please let us hear it!" exclaimed Sandy, eagerly.

"We must wait for a windy night, as well as a dark one," the frontiersman went on. "The wilder it is, the more chance we have for success, because we must set fire to the lodges, and start a fierce blaze, so that during the excitement, the girl can be taken away. After they have put out the flames the Indians may believe that Kate has just fled in fear of the danger."

"I understand what you mean," cried Sandy, "and it strikes me that it is a wonderful plan. It must succeed; only I'm sorry that we have to wait. A windy night may be a long time in coming; and how can we hold back?"

"Oh! at this changing season of the year there are few times when the wind does not blow, more or less," returned Kenton, reassuringly. "Perhaps it may be to-night for aught we know."

"Don't I just hope so," said the boy. "But I wish you would let us go with you into the village."

"I'm afraid that might be taking too many risks," returned the borderer. "However, we will see, later on. At least, I mean to ask Blue Jacket to help me rig both of you out in paint, so that, in case you are seen, discovery would not necessarily follow."

"Oh! we have more than once done the same ourselves, when playing Indian," said Bob, readily; "and it will not be so hard to carry out the part. But I trust that we may be given a chance to see what the village of Kiashuta looks like, while we wait for you to set the fires, and carry our sister off."

"Sandy, if you do not mind, it is about time we had something to eat," remarked Kenton, turning with one of his rare smiles to the younger pioneer lad. "The fire is smoldering, and can be readily rekindled with a handful of small stuff. This inaction does not keep one from feeling hungry, it seems."

So Sandy, always ready to do his duty, scrambled to his feet, and started toward the other side of the wide cavern, stepping over the figure of Abijah Cook, who was making up for lost sleep while he had the chance.

Pat O'Mara had gone off on a hunt for the day and had not returned.

Five seconds later and the voice of Sandy rang out in wild alarm.

"Bob! Kenton! make haste, or he will get away! It is Armand Lacroix, and he has slipped his bonds! See, he is making for the shelf! Oh! stop him, somebody!"