CHAPTER IX.

THE NIGHT ATTACK.

Kingman and Moffat remained on watch the whole night, but the Shawnees did not again make their appearance. There was evidently some deep laid plan upon their part, which they were prosecuting with unusual caution. Although there had been suspicion awakened with the settlers, and their most careful and experienced men were deputed as sentinels, yet nothing thus far had been discovered during the day-time to awaken apprehension. Several times before, in the history of this settlement, the first intimation the settlers had of danger was by detecting savages lurking in the woods during the day.

In the morning, after the event alluded to, the men were made aware of the danger which threatened them, and a consultation was held as to what steps should be taken. The general belief was that a large Indian force was scattered through the woods, and were making preparations for an attack. Under these circumstances the advice of the minister, Edwards, was taken; viz:—to dispatch several scouts to ascertain if possible the strength of their enemies, and the probable manner in which they would attempt the assault, and also for each settler to fortify his own house, in case they should get within the enclosure.

Several old Indian fighters, including Moffat, crept carefully into the woods, and reconnoitered for over an hour. The result was what was anticipated. There were unmistakable signs of a large Indian force. In addition to this, Moffat examined the outside row of pickets, and found there were several which had been nearly severed by some keen instrument in the hands of the Indians. No other part of the enclosure had been touched.

Late in the afternoon, a scout from Boonesborough made his appearance, and was admitted. He reported that there was a pretty general uprising among the savages, and Colonel Boone was daily expecting an attack. Kenton was at one of the weaker settlements, as there were alarming signs of war along the whole frontier, and there was no certainty who would suffer first.

As the night slowly settled over the wilderness, the pioneers collected in their homes to spend an hour or so with their families. The evening meal was scantily partaken of, at the close of which all knelt and sent up a fervent supplication for protection by the Great Being above. Then, after a few more words, the females and children retired, and the men rose and sallied forth to the block-houses.

Kingman, after leaving his mother, proceeded to the house of Stuart. Stuart himself was gone, but Irene was still watching for him.

“Ah! up yet?” he laughed. “You ought to be abed.”

“I have no desire to sleep, and do not intend to, until the danger is over.”

“Why, what help do you suppose you can offer?”

“Perhaps none, but when our friends are in such danger, little sleep, it seems, should come to the others.”

“I trust we shall escape without much trouble,” said Kingman, hopefully. “There may be no attack, after all is said and done.”

“Oh, I hope not! There is war all the time. It is dreadful. I pray it may soon end.”

“Keep up a good heart, Irene. So, good by, now.”

“Good by, dear; may heaven protect you.”

He hastily embraced her, and then turned and joined the rest.

The men congregated, as said, in the different block-houses, which were so built as to protect the four sides of the town, while several of their scouts entered the space between the two picket rows to guard against any artifice or stratagem. The Indians were probably aware that the settlers had made preparations, for they deferred the attack until a late hour.

Although the settlers’ families retired to rest, there were few indeed who closed their eyes upon that night. Irene stood in the same spot she had bidden adieu to Kingman, waiting and watching with a beating heart the men as they passed to and fro, or stood motionless at their posts.

The sky was full of tumultuously flying clouds, which obscured the light of the moon, and sometimes threw an inky darkness over the town and forest. Then, again, it would shine out full and clear, and the dark forms of the watchers and scouts could be seen as they passed out from the block-houses and communicated with each other.

Then, as a straggling cloud passed over the face of the moon, its shadows glided noiselessly and swiftly over the village, like a great phantom, shrouding everything in its ghastly light.

Gradually the night wore on. Irene and her mother stood side by side, and when the moonlight streamed down upon the village, they could see that in every cabin door there were others standing the same as themselves.

Not a word was spoken by any one, for there was something in the hour, the occasion, and surrounding circumstances that made every heart silent. Irene had fallen into a sort of half-unconscious, dreamy reverie, when she was startled by hearing her mother exclaim:

“In mercy’s name, what is that?”

The cause of Mrs. Stuart’s exclamation was what appeared to be a bright stream of fire that shot from the northern block-house and ascended high into the sky. A moment’s glance showed it to be a burning arrow cast by their assailants. It arose in a fiery curve, and as it turned and fell described a beautiful arch. Ere it had reached its destination another shot upward, and another, and another, until the air was filled with the hissing, burning missiles. They were flying in every direction, and falling upon the cabins and block-houses. For a moment Irene was bewildered by the scene, and scarcely comprehended it.

“Oh, we shall be burned alive!” exclaimed Mrs. Stuart.

The daughter saw that one of the burning arrows had struck the cabin within a few feet of her. Here it stuck, while the small twist of flame round the head crackled and snapped in the logs. Without a moment’s hesitation, our heroine stepped forward, and seizing the arrow, drew it forth and threw it upon the ground.

“Heaven save us! Ain’t you burnt?” asked her mother.

“But slightly; but look, they are falling all around us.”

It was true. Everywhere, like serpents of fire, they crossed in the air, while some fell upon the ground, and others buried their keen points in the cabins and block-houses. Little balls of fire were visible in different places, and the air was filling with smoke. As may be supposed, the females were greatly alarmed, and there seemed imminent danger of all the cabins being ablaze in a short time. Women began running to and fro, plucking the arrows and dashing water upon their cabins, while the fiery missiles continued raining down upon them.

“Don’t be scart,” called out Moffat, as he rushed among them. “Don’t be scart; these arrers can’t do no harm. The cabins are too green to burn, and the Injins are too green to see it. Jerusalem!”

This last exclamation was caused by one of the flaming missiles dropping so close to his person as to graze his coat or hunting-shirt, and set it on fire. He slipped out of it in a twinkling, and dodged back to the block-house as fast as possible. His words had allayed the panic and reassured the females, for he had spoken the truth. The cabins were of such construction that, with one exception, there was the least possible danger of their taking fire, and it was the same with the block-houses and pickets. The wood in them was still green, and full of sap, and the flame borne by the Indian arrows had no effect upon them, except to cause a slight smoke and a great panic.

This the Indians soon learned, and ceased their efforts in this direction. A silence of perhaps a half hour followed—the deep, almost audible silence which precedes the bursting of the storm. The savages, up to this point, had given utterance to no yells, and had persisted to a man in remaining invisible, so that not a shot had been exchanged upon either side. Those in the block-houses had done their utmost to catch a glimpse of their assailants, but thus far had not succeeded. When the flying arrows made their appearance, they seemed as if shot from the branches of the trees, and the wood was so dense that a most effectual concealment was given all.

The clearing around the settlement, it will be remembered, extended several hundred feet, so an enemy would be compelled to expose themselves if they made a close attack. As the Shawnees ceased their efforts for a while, every settler loaded his gun, for he well knew that it would be needed in a short time.

“What’s the next thing on the programme?” asked Moffat, who was standing beside the minister within the block-house.

“It is hard telling, I guess,” replied Edwards.

“Some trickery that we ain’t thinking about, I’ll be bound. Them Shawnees won’t give up so easy as all that.”

“Moffat—see here, Moffat!” called a man at one of the loop-holes.

“What’s the trouble there?”

“Just take a peep through the loop-hole and see whether there is anything to be seen.”

Moffat stepped forward as requested, and took a scrutinizing glance of the clearing in front. His suspicions were aroused, for he gazed several minutes without speaking a word.

“Do you make anything of it?” inquired his friend.

“Shawnees, as sure as thunder!”

“Pass the word to the others there, and blaze away.”

The pioneers were soon aware that the Shawnees were attempting to approach them. As they looked forth, they could see upon the outer edge of the clearing, their forms flat upon the ground, and creeping as stealthily as shadows. At the distance, and among the stumps and logs, it was hard to discover them, and none but a hunter’s eye would have done it. Orders were given to withhold the fire until they were much closer, and upon the point of rising for the result.

Steadily, but imperceptibly to the inexperienced eye, the Shawnees approached the settlement. They could not be seen to move, and the way in which Kingman judged of their approach was by comparing the position of one of the dark forms with that of a stationary object. In a short time a relative change of position would be seen which became more perceptible each moment. Edwards, who was one of the leaders, seeing that the savages would turn all their exertions toward scaling the pickets or effecting an entrance through them, dispatched a large number of men from the block-house to guard the block-houses, so that the guards of the towns was not weak at any point.

Fortune favored the settlers. When the Shawnees were but comparatively a few yards distant, the clouds cleared from the face of the moon, and as the moonlight streamed down once more, the gleaming, expectant, upturned faces of the Indians could be seen. All understood that this was the moment to fire, and simultaneously nearly a hundred rifles in the different block-houses broke upon the air. As many infuriated yells broke forth, and seemingly from the very ground, scores of savages sprang to their feet and rushed toward the pickets. Here the cool and steady conduct of the settlers availed them. It was impossible to scale the guard, or either to burn or batter it down, except by vigorous, prolonged labor.

The Indians set desperately at work, not heeding the murderous fire which was poured upon them. But it soon told too fearfully, for every shot was well aimed; and when a hunter’s rifle belched its contents a Shawnee was sure to bite the dust. The block-houses were unrelentless in their fire, and continued to pour their shots in upon the dark, dancing bodies without, who still kept madly at work, howling and yelling like so many demons.

And all this time numbers kept pouring from the woods, until there were several hundred assaulting the settlement. The attack was made from all sides, at the same moment and by equally formidable numbers, so that each block-house had its due share of work. To add to the confusion, the horses and cattle within the enclosure became panic-struck, and their affrighted snorts and bellowing could be heard among the din of conflict. The discharge of the rifles was so continued and regular that it sounded like the firing of a well-drilled army—platoon at a time; and though it could not help telling fearfully upon the Shawnees, it seemed in reality to have no effect.

“Fire quicker, boys, and with a sure aim,” commanded Edwards, in a low tone. “The pickets will be down, if they keep on in that way.”

“Well, here’s a try,” said a man beside him, as he placed his rifle through a loop-hole. “I wonder what execution this bullet will do?”

As he fired it, Edwards heard a groan, and turning hastily around, saw the man was dying. An Indian bullet had entered the orifice directly beside the muzzle of his rifle, and flashing along the barrel, had struck him in the face, shattering his forehead and killing him almost instantly.

“Take him out of the way; there’s no help for him,” commanded Edwards.

Moffat and Captain Parks (who was also a leader upon this occasion,) seized the poor fellow and quickly drew him outside the block-house.

“Umph! his shot had a different effect from what he thought,” remarked the captain, as he deposited him on the ground and hastened within again.

The Shawnees, with unusual bravery, maintained their efforts, fired to desperation at the resistance encountered, and seemingly determined to force the pickets at all risks. It was no longer necessary for the hunters to take aim—in fact, it was impossible to miss hitting the Indians, they were everywhere—and Captain Parks finally ordered his men to load and fire as fast as possible, without taking time to aim.

In the height of the conflict the pickets, which had been weakened the previous night, yielded to the tremendous pressure, and the Shawnees commenced pouring in the breach.

And now came the struggle for life. Once within the village, and its doom would be fixed forever. At sight of the dark forms of the Shawnees struggling through the opening, a perfect fury took possession of the settlers. The good minister, Edwards, understood in an instant the cause of the increased tumult, and with a yell that might and would have done honor to a Shawnee chief, leaped from the block-house, and flew to the defence. His ready, powerful arm was needed, for the exultant savages were pressing almost irresistibly forward.

But the impetuosity of the Indians was their own destruction and defeat. They pressed and struggled so desperately among each other that their actions were cramped and rendered of little avail. The pioneers, fired with fury of desperation, cut and shot and battered and knifed them like so many animals, until, in a short time, the further entrance of the assailants was prevented by the dead bodies of their own comrades blocking up the breach!

The crisis of the battle had now passed. There was no prevailing against the defense of the settlers, and the Shawnees made as disorderly and turbulent a retreat as they had an assault. Without stopping to carry the dead or the wounded, they plunged headlong into the corner of the wood.

The dead bodies of the savages were instantly thrust through the breach, which was closed up and barricaded as firmly as circumstances would allow. This done, Edwards and Captain Parks returned to their block-house, leaving a sufficient number to still guard the pickets, should the assault be repeated. But those skilled in Indian warfare knew that for an hour at least they were safe, as their enemies would spend that time in consulting upon the next step to be taken. The wives and children of the hardy pioneers, as soon as they saw that hostilities were suspended, hastened forward to see who had fallen in the conflict. The deep sigh of relief which they drew, when Edwards communicated the strange fact that, beside the man shot at the commencement of the skirmish, not one of the number was killed, showed the deep, heartfelt interest they felt for all.

Many of the hunters took the occasion to clean their guns and refresh themselves, while others more cautious, continued their ever vigilant watch. As the moon permitted, they could sometimes distinguish among the prone bodies before them the writhing form of some poor savage in his death agonies, and the glazed stare of the others, stark and stiff, their features distorted and their hands closed with a rigid, deathly clutch upon their body or upon the ground. It was a sad, soul-sickening sight, but a sight which would pale before the horrors that were yet to be enacted along the frontier.

As the night wore on, the Shawnees from time to time fired their random shots from their concealment, but no general demonstration was made. Their repulse had been a most complete and decided one. At intervals a burning arrow whizzed over the pickets and buried itself in the cabins beyond, as if they still had hope of accomplishing the destruction of the settlement, and now and then a venturesome savage crawled as close to the block-house as possible and fired his rifle at the loop-holes alone; but such a daring attempt was pretty sure to cost him his own life, as the flash of his gun would discover him to the watchful hunters, who sent a volley at him.

Then many attempts were made to approach the settlement by stratagem. The inexperienced settler would be struck at seeing a bush upon the outer edge of the clearing, and he would wonder with himself that it never attracted his notice before; after which he would be surprised at seeing it much nearer than at first; and while at a loss to explain the curious circumstance, which no extra rubbing of the eyes could do, he would perhaps be startled by the flash and report from out the very centre of it, and then immediately the death yell of the assailant as he attempted to make his retreat to safer concealment. Then, again, objects so like logs as to deceive the eye of all but the most suspicious, would make their appearance, and seemingly rolled by invisible hands, continue to approach slowly and surely the settlement, until their sudden change of form showed their true character.

In many cases the Indians did conceal themselves behind the logs which still lay upon the outer edge of the clearing, and by cautiously rolling them forward as they lay extended upon the ground, succeeded in approaching within a few yards of the block-house without the least personal danger to themselves. They would then make several shots over the top of the log and dodge down to avoid. But they accomplished nothing at all, and ran such imminent risk themselves of being shot during their retreat, that these and similar attempts were finally abandoned.

All such artifices were but artifices indeed, which the prisoners had learned long before, and which could not take them by surprise. The Shawnees had learned much from the Mingo Logan, as their attempts of conducting the attack were similar in several cases; but, as we have shown, they met with such poor success that they finally ceased, and for a long time not a shot was exchanged between the two parties. The whites believed that their silence was a ruse to give the impression that they had withdrawn, and thus threw them off their guard. For over an hour, not the slightest sound or movement betrayed the presence of the Shawnees.

Suddenly the combined yell of over a hundred throats rent the air, with such horrid force as to make the blood of every one tingle, and as many bullets rattled against the pickets and block-houses. But the settlers were not thrown off their guard; they cocked their rifles and held them pointed toward the wood. But no Indians made their appearance. This was another stratagem, the meaning of which could hardly be divined, if it had any meaning at all.

Finally the settlers saw with glad hearts that the day was at hand. The east was fast becoming gray and light and there would soon be an opportunity of resting their harassed and weary frames. Edwards and Captain Parks would not suffer one of the men to withdraw until the sun had risen above the wilderness, and its broad dazzling light showed the perfect day. Then, as nothing could be seen of their vindictive enemies, and it was pretty certain they had returned to a man, the majority of the settlers left the block-houses and their stations for refreshment and rest. It was found that three of the whites had been killed, and some half dozen slightly wounded. During the day the former were buried with appropriate and solemn ceremony. Several were so disfigured and mangled that the white sheet which had been thrown over them was not removed when they were placed within the ground.

It was in the afternoon that most of the settlers gathered in the corner of the settlement which had been set apart for the resting-place of the dead, to witness and participate in the ceremonies. The minister read, in a subdued and feeling voice, a short hymn, which was sung in low and mournful tones, and then all knelt upon the earth, and his clear, rich voice ascended to heaven. As they rose to their feet, he made a few remarks upon the solemn scene, and then the three bodies, one by one, were lowered into separate graves. In a short time they were covered with the sod, and their forms blotted forever from the face of the earth.

The scene in front of the settlement was horrid and soul-sickening in the extreme. The Shawnees during the preceding night had succeeded in removing a number of their dead companions, but over a dozen still remained scattered over the clearing and around the closed breach. In front could be seen three Indians stretched upon the earth, stark and stiff, their hands closed with a deadly clutch around their rifles, and their fixed glazing eyes staring at the blue sky above them. The disfigurement of their faces was rendered more ghastly by war paint daubed upon them. The blood had mixed with this until it was impossible to distinguish them, and, as the wound of each was in the face, some idea may perhaps be formed of their appearance. Others lay doubled and knotted in heaps just as when they died, and a couple were stretched face downward upon a stump, their arms dangling over. The greatest number were stretched before the breach. There they lay in every imaginable position; some as if quietly sleeping and others twisted and bent into inconceivable distortions, and scattered over the clearing were coagulated pools of blood, dark and murky on the hard earth, and bright and glistening on the logs where the sun could reach it.

It was near the middle of the afternoon, when most of the men were engaged in the funeral ceremonies of the dead, and while Kingman and Moffat were keeping watch in the northern block-house that a curious, yet characteristic circumstance took place. Moffat had seated himself for a time, while Kingman was still gazing intently through one of the loop-holes. The hunter watched him a few moments and then remarked,

“It seems to me, George, that something has taken your eye out there. What is it? Does one of the Shawnee’s top knots strike your fancy?”

“No; but I tell you, I ain’t satisfied yet by any means that the Injins are out of the wood.”

“What’s up? Seen one? Shouldn’t wonder if there was two or three there; but I’ll bet my life that there ain’t no more.”

“There is something moving in the bushes yonder, certain. Just take a look. It is close to that tree where you shot your first Shawnee.”

Moffat arose and did as requested. He answered in a moment.

“There is somebody there, sure enough, but I can’t make him out.”

“Shall I not fire, and teach him better manners?”

“No. You would only scare the women, and it ain’t certain by no means that there’s an Injin there, and I make it a point never fire at a venture.”

“Indian it isn’t, sure enough,” replied Kingman, excitedly.

As they both looked, they saw a white man dressed in the costume of a hunter step cautiously forth and approach one of the bodies. He stooped and looked at it a moment, and then catching the head in his left hand, jerked out his knife and had the scalp off in a moment. This he repeated until there were several bleeding trophies suspended at the girdle around his waist.

“That is cool,” remarked Kingman. “What business has he to do that?”

“Settling some old grudge, perhaps, against the varmint.”

“A cowardly way of settling it, at any rate. Why doesn’t he take the live savages instead of the dead ones.”

“’Cause there are none to take. He ain’t one of the chaps as is _afraid_. No, sir, he’d raise the top-knot of any Shawnee, dead or kicking.”

“But this is not the place to commit such barbarities as that, and I’ll stop him before any of the others see him.”

Kingman applied his mouth to the loop-holes, and shrieked.

“Helloa there! What are you at?”

The backwoodsman raised his eyes and looked up at the block-house, but made no reply. He then stooped, and seizing another Indian committed the same disgusting outrage upon him. His coolness and unconcern touched Kingman, and he called out.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“None your business,” retorted the hunter, continuing his operations as before.

“Confound him!” muttered Kingman to Moffat. “I have a great notion to give him a taste of cold lead for his imprudence.”

“You try it, and you will never pull another trigger,” replied Moffat in his tone of deadly meaning.

“Why, what has got into you so suddenly?”

“Do you know who that man is?”

“I known he is as much savage as any Shawnee I have ever yet seen.”

“Wal, sir, that chap is my brother, and if you’ve got any differences to settle he’ll give you the chance, but if you undertake any trick, here’s his brother, and there’ll be a dead man in your tracks in two minutes and a half.”

“I beg your pardon, Abe; I had no idea who the man was. A friend of yours is a friend of mine, no matter who or what he is. Forgive me, will you? Your hand on it?”

With true backwoodsman frankness and good nature, Abe Moffat extended his bony palm, and a genial smile lit up his countenance.