At a distance of about two miles above Heywood's farm, and on the southern branch of the Chicago, which winds its slightly serpentine course between the wood and the prairie. There was at the period of which we treat, a small deep bay formed by two adjacent and densely wooded points of land, in the cool shades of which the pike, the black bass, and the pickerel loved to lie in the heat of summer, and where, in early spring, though in less numbers, they were wont to congregate. This was the customary fishing spot of the garrison—six men and a non-commissioned officer, repairing there almost daily, with their ample store of lines and spears, as much, although not avowedly, for their own amusement, as for the supply of the officer's table. What remained, after a certain division among these, became the property of the captors, who, after appropriating to themselves what was necessary for their next day's meal, distributed the rest among the non-commissioned, and men of the company. As the season advanced, and the fish became more plenty, there was little limitation of quantity, for the freight, nightly brought home, and taken with the line and spear alone, was sufficient to afford every one abundance. In truth, even in the depth of winter, there was little privation endured by the garrison—the fat venison brought in and sold for the veriest trifle by the Indians—the luscious and ample prairie hen, chiefly shot by the officers, and the fish we have named, leaving no necessity for consumption of the salt food with which it was but indifferently stored.
On the day on which our narrative has commenced, the usual fishing party had ascended the river at an early hour, for the newness of the season and the shortness of the days rendered it an object that they should be on the accustomed haunt as soon as possible. They had left the Fort at daylight, passing Heywood's farm at the moment when, for the purpose of foddering the cattle on the opposite bank, he, with the boy Wilton, was crossing to the very canoe in which Ephraim Giles afterwards made his escape—the latter with the Canadian, being engaged in felling trees higher up the river.
Arrived at the little bay to which we have just adverted, the boat was fastened to the gnarled trunk of a tree, which projected over the deep water at the nearest point, and the party, taking with them their fishing rods, baits, and haversacks, but leaving their spears and muskets in the boat, dispersed themselves at short distances along the curve that formed the bay, which, however, was not more than three hundred yards in extent, from point to point.
When they first cast their lines into the water, the sun's rays were clearly visible through the thick wood in their rear. The early morning, too, had been cold—almost frosty—so much so, that the wild ducks, which generally evinced a good deal of shyness, NOW, seemingly emboldened by the briskness of the atmosphere, could be seen gliding about in considerable numbers, about half a mile below them; while the fish, on the contrary, as though dissatisfied with the temperature of their element, refused to do what the men called “the amiable,” by approaching the hook. Their occupation had been continued until long past mid-day, during which time not more than a dozen fish had been taken. Vexed at his ill luck, for he had not had even a nibble, one of the men flung his rod upon the bank, impatiently, and then, seating himself on the projecting root of a large tree, declared it was all nonsense to play the fool any longer, and that the most sensible thing they could do, was to take their dinners—smoke their pipes—and wash the whole down with a little of the Monongahela.
“I say, Collins,” remarked the corporal, good-naturedly, “we shall have poor fare for the officers' mess, let alone our own, if we all follow your example, and give up so soon. But, as you say, it's time to have some grub, and we'll try our luck afterwards.”
“Rome wasn't built in a day,” said the man who had been fishing next to Collins, and drawing in his line also, “we've a good many hours left yet.”
Following the recommendation of the corporal, the rest of the party sat down on the edge of the bank, and, opening their haversacks, produced each his allowance of corn bread and venison, or salted pork, after dispatching which, with the aid of their clasp knives, they took a refreshing “horn” from the general canteen that Collins carried suspended over his shoulder, and then drew forth and lighted their pipes.
As the latter puffed away with a vigor that proved either a preoccupied mind, or extreme gratification with the weed, he cast his eyes carelessly down the stream, where a large description of duck, called by the French natives of the country, the cou rouge, from the color of their necks, were disporting themselves as though nothing in the shape of a fire arm was near them—now diving—now rising on their feet, and shaking their outstretched wings, now chasing each other in limited circles, and altogether so apparently emboldened by their immunity from interruption, as to come close to the bank, at a distance of little more than fifty yards from the spot where he sat.
“It's very ridiculous,” he at length remarked, pouring forth at the same time, an unusual volume of smoke, and watching the curling eddies as they rose far above his head—“it's very ridiculous, I say, the captin's order that we sha'nt fire. Look at them ducks—how they seem to know all about it, too!”
“By gosh!” said another, “I've a good notion to fetch my musket, and have a slap into them. Shall I, corporal?”
“Certainly not, Green,” was the answer. “If it was known in the Fort I had permitted any of the party to fire, I should be broke, if I did'nt get picketed for my pains, and none of us would ever get out again.”
“No great harm in that, either,” said the man who had made the novel observation that Rome had not been built in a day.
The corporal looked sharply at the last speaker, as if not fully comprehending his meaning.
“Jackson means no great harm if we never got out again,” interposed Collins, “and I think as he does, for I see no fun in rowing four or five miles to fish, and scarcely getting a sight of one.”
“Well, but Collins, that's not always our luck. I'm sure we've had sport enough before. It must be because the weather's rather cold today, that the fish won't bite.”
“It's of no use his grumbling, Philips,” remarked Corporal Nixon, “we're here, not so much for own sport as on a duty for the garrison. Let me hear no more of this, Collins.”
“Well, corporal that's true enough,” said Green, “but dash me if it isn't temptin' to see them fellows there stealin' upon us, and we lookin' on, and doin' nothin'.”
“What fellows do you mean?” inquired the corporal, suddenly starting to his feet, and looking down the river.
“Why, them ducks to be sure, see how they come sailin' up to us, as if they knowed all about the captin's order—no jumpin' or friskin' now, but all of a heap like.”
“Yes, but I say, what's that black looking thing beyond the ducks?” asked one who had not hitherto spoken, pointing his finger.
“Where, where, Weston?” exclaimed one or two voices, and the speakers looked in the direction indicated.
“Hang me if it isn't a bear,” said Collins in a low, anxious tone; “that's the chap that has sent the ducks so near us. Do let me have a crack at him, corporal. He's large enough to supply us all with fresh meat for three days, and will make up for the bad fishing. Only one shy, corporal, and I engage not to miss him.”
Sure enough, there was, in the centre of the stream, a dark object, nearly half a mile distant, which all joined in pronouncing to be a bear. It was swimming vigorously across to their aide of the river.
“I think we might take him as he lands,” observed Green. “What say you, corporal; I reckon you'll let us try THAT, if you won't let us fire?”
“Stay all where you are,” was the reply. “I can manage him myself with a spear, if I can only be in time before he reaches the shore. If not, it's no matter, for I won't allow a trigger to be pulled.”
Corporal Nixon was a tall, active, strong-limbed Virginian. He soon cleared the space that separated them from the boat, and jumping to the stern, seized one of the fishing spears, and then moved on through: the wood that densely skirted the bank. But he had not been five minutes gone when he again made his appearance, not immediately by the half-formed path he had previously taken, but by a slight detour to the rear.
“Hist, hist,” he said in an audible whisper, as soon as he saw that he was perceived, motioning at the same time with his hand to enjoin silence, and concealment. Then, beckoning to Weston to join him; he again moved along the path with the light tread of one who fears to alarm an object unconscious of interruption.
All had the sense to understand that there was some good reason for the caution of the corporal, and with the exception of Weston, who had promptly obeyed the signal, busily, but silently resumed their morning's occupation.
First, a quarter of an hour, and then minute after minute passed slowly away, yet there was no sign of the return of their companions. What could be the meaning of this? If the bear had not proved to be too much for them, they ought to have killed him, and rejoined them before this. Curiosity, nay, apprehension finally overcame the strong sense of obedience to orders, which had been literally drilled into them, and they all, at the suggestion of Green, dropped their rods on the bank, and moved cautiously in the direction that had been taken by the corporal and Weston. Great, however, was the surprise of Collins, then a little in advance, when, on nearing the spot where the boat lay moored, he beheld, not those of who they were in search, but a naked, and hideously painted savage, in the very act of untying the rope by which the skiff was fastened to the knotted and projecting root of the tree. Sensible that there was impending danger, although he knew not of what precise kind, inasmuch as there was no Reason to apprehend anything hostile from the Indians, with—all of whom around the fort, they had always been on friendly terms, he sprang forward to arrest the movement. But the distance was several rods, and the savage, alarmed by the rustling made among the foliage and brushwood in his rear, now put his shoulder to the boat, and, in the next instant would have had it far across this stream, had not a hand suddenly protruded from beneath the hollow clump of earth on which the tree grew, grasped him firmly by the ankle, even while in the act of springing into the forcibly impelled skiff. In a moment or two, he grappled tightly with his hands upon the bow of the boat, but, finding the pressure on his imprisoned limb too great for resistance, he relinquished his hold, falling upon his face in the water, from which he was dragged, although without violence, by Corporal Nixon, who had emerged from his hiding-place.
When the Indian was suffered to rise, there was a threatening expression on his countenance, which, not even the number of those by whom he was now surrounded could check, and he made an involuntary motion of his hand to his scalping knife, the only weapon with which he was armed, that lay in the sheath dangling from his girdle. Seeing, however, that there was no hostile disposition manifested by the party, he speedily relinquished his first impulse, and stood upright before them with a bold, but calm look.
“What you want with boat?” asked the corporal, almost involuntarily, and without the slightest expectation that his question would be understood.
“Me want 'em cross,” replied the Indian, pointing to the opposite woods.
“But why you come in bear skin?” and, in his turn, the corporal pointed with his finger in the direction in which the supposed bear had been seen.
“Ugh!” grunted the savage doggedly, finding that he had been detected in his disguise.
“What nation you?—Pottawattamie?”
“Wah! Pottawattamie!”
“Curious enough,” pursued the corporal, addressing himself to his comrades. “I don't half like the look of the fellow, but I suppose it's all right. We musn't offend him. You chief?”, he continued, pointing to a large silver medal suspended over the breast of the athletic and well-proportioned Indian.
“Yes, me chief. Pottawattamie chief,” and he made a sign in the direction of the Fort, near which the encampment of that tribe lay.
“You friend, then?” remarked the corporal, extending his hand.
“Yes, me friend,” he answered promptly, brightening up and taking the proffered hand; “you give 'em boat?”
“Do you see any thing green in my eye?” asked the Virginian, incapable, even under the circumstances, of repressing the indulgence of his humor.
But the party questioned, although speaking a little English, was not sufficiently initiated in its elegancies to comprehend this; so, he merely answered with a “ugh!” while the greater portion of the men laughed boisterously, both at the wit of the corporal, and at the seeming astonishment it excited.
This mirth by no means suited the humor of the Indian. He felt that it was directed towards himself, and again he stood fierce, and with a dilating frame before them.
Corporal Nixon at once became sensible of his error. To affront one of the friendly chiefs would, he knew, not only compromise the interests of the garrison, but incur the severe displeasure of the commanding officer, who had always enjoined the most scrupulous abstinence from any thing offensive to them.
“I only meant to say,” he added, as he again extended his hand. “I can't give 'em boat, White chief,” and he pointed in the direction of the Fort, “no let me.”
“Ugh!” exclaimed the Indian, his stern features again brightening up with a last hope. “'Spose come with Injin?”
For a moment or two, the corporal hesitated whether or not to put the man across, but when he reflected on the singular manner of his advent, and other circumstances connected with his appearance among them, his customary prudence came to his aid, and while avoiding all ground for offence by his mode of refusal, he gave him peremptorily to understand that there was an order against his suffering the boat to leave its present station.
Again the countenance of the Indian fell, even while his quick eye rolled incessantly from one to the other of the group. “You no give 'em boat—Injin swim,” he at length observed.
“Just as you please,” answered corporal Nixon. “By and bye, sogers go to the Fort—take Injin with 'em.”
“Wah! Injin cross here,” and as he spoke, he sprang again to the bow of the boat, and at a single bound cleared the intervening space to the very stern.
Several heavy splashes in the water.—a muttered curse from the corporal—some confusion among his men, and the savage was seen nearly half-way across the river, swimming like an eel to the opposite shore.
“Damn the awkward brute!” exclaimed the former, angrily. “How many muskets are there overboard, Jackson?”
“Only three—and two cartouch boxes.”
“ONLY three indeed! I wish the fellow had been at old Nick, instead of coming here to create all this confusion. Is the water deep at the stern?”
“Nearly a fathom I reckon,” was the reply.
“Then, my lads, you must look out for other fish to-day. Jackson, can you see the muskets at the bottom?”
“Not a sign of them, corporal,” answered the man, as lying flat on the boat, he peered intently into the water. “The bottom is covered with weeds, and I can just see the tails of two large pikes wriggling among them. By Gemini, I think if I had my rod here, I could take them both!”
“Never mind them,” resumed the corporal, again delivering himself of a little wit; “muskets will be of far more use to us just now than pikes. We must fish them up—there will be the devil to pay if we go home without them.”
“Then there's no other way than diving for them,” said Jackson, still looking downwards. “Not even the glitter of a barrel can I see. They must have buried themselves in the weeds. I say, Weston,” slightly raising his head and turning his face to the party named, “You're a good diver?”
“Yes, and Collins is better than me.”
“Well then, here's at it,” resumed Jackson, rising and commencing to strip. “It's only by groping and feeling that we can find the arms, and when once we've tumbled on 'em, it will be easy enough to get 'em up with one hand, while we swim with the other. We must plunge here from the stern,” he added, as the men whom he had named jumped on board and commenced stripping themselves.
“How came the Injin to knock the muskets overboard, Corporal?” inquired one of the party who had not yet spoken—a fat, portly man, with a long hooked nose, and a peaked chin.
“I'm dashed,” replied Nixon, “if I can tell myself, though I was looking at him as he jumped from one end of the boat to the other. All I know is, the firelocks were propped against the stern of the boat as we placed them, with the backs of the cartouch boxes slung under the ramrods, and I suppose, for I don't know how else it could be done, that instead of alighting on the seat, he must have passed it, and putting his foot on the muzzles, tipped them with the weight of his body, head over heels into the water.”
“Corporal,” Ventured Collins, as he removed his last garment, “you asked that painted chap if he saw anything green in your eye. Now, that's as it may be, but hang me, if it wasn't a little green to take him for a Pottawattamie?”
“And how do you know he was'nt a Pottawattamie? Who made you a judge of Indian flesh?” retorted the corporal, with an air of dissatisfaction.
“Didn't he say he was, and didn't he wear a chiefs medal?”
“Say? Yes, I'll be bound he'd say and wear anything to gull us, but I'm sure he's no Pottawattamie. I never seen a Pottawattamie of that build. They are tall, thin, skinny, bony fellows—while this chap was square, stoat, broad-shouldered, and full of muscle.”
Corporal Nixon pondered a little, because half-convinced, but would not acknowledge that he could have been mistaken. “Are you all ready?” he at length inquired, anxious, like most men, when driven into a corner on one topic, to introduce another.
“All ready,” answered Jackson, taking the first plunge in the direction in which he knew the muskets must have fallen.
Before following his example, the others waited for his report. This was soon made. He had got hold of one of the muskets, and partly lifted it from its bed, but the net-work of strong weeds above it, opposing too much resistance, he had been compelled to quit his hold, and came to the surface of the water for air.
“Here's for another trial,” shouted Collins, as he made his plunge in the same direction. In a few seconds he too, reappeared, bearing in his right hand, not a firelock, but the two missing cartouch boxes.
“Better luck next time,” remarked corporal Nixon. “I think my lads, if two of you were to separate the weeds with your hands, so as to clear each musket, the other might easily bring it up.”
The suggestion of the corporal was at once acted upon, but it was not, until after repeated attempts had been made to liberate the arms, from their Web-like canopy, that two were finally brought up and placed in the boat. The third they groped for in vain, until at length, the men, dispirited and tired, declared it was utterly useless to prosecute the search, and that the other musket must be given up as lost.
This, however, did not suit the views of the correct corporal. He said, pointedly, that he would almost as soon return without his head as without his arms, and that the day having been thus far spent without the accomplishment of the object for which they were there, he was determined to devote the remainder to the search. Not being a bad diver himself, although he had not hitherto deemed it necessary to add his exertions to those of his comrades, he now stripped, desiring those who had preceded him to throw on their shirts and rest themselves for another plunge, when he should have succeeded in finding out where the missing musket had lodged.
“What's that?” exclaimed Jackson, pointing to a small, dark object, of a nearly circular shape, which was floating about half way between the surface of the place into which the divers had plunged, and the weeds below.
His companions turned their eyes in the direction indicated, but, almost immediately after Jackson had spoken, it had disappeared wholly from view.
“What did it loot like?” asked the corporal.
“It must have been a mush rat,” returned Jackson, “there's plenty of them about here, and I reckon our diving has disturbed the nest.”
Corporal Nixon now took his leap, but some paces farther out from the shore than his companions had ventured upon theirs. The direction was the right one. Extending his arms as he reached a space entirely free from weeds, his right hand encountered the cold barrel of the musket, but as he sought to glide it along, in order that he might grasp the butt, and thus drag it endwise up, his hand disturbed some hairy substance which rested upon the weapon causing it to float slightly upwards, until it came in contact with his naked breast. Now, the corporal was a fearless soldier whose nerves were not easily shaken, but the idea of a nasty mush rat, as they termed it, touching his person in this manner, produced in him unconquerable disgust, even while it gave him the desperate energy to clutch the object with a nervous grasp, and without regard to the chance of being bitten in the act, by the small, sharp teeth of the animal. His consternation was even greater when, on enclosing it within his rough palm, he felt the whole to collapse, as though it had been a heavy air-filled bladder, burst by the compression of his fingers. A new feeling-a new chain of ideas now took possession of him, and leaving the musket where it was, he rose near the spot from which he first started, and still clutching his hairy and undesirable prize, threw it from him towards the boat, into the bottom of which it fell, after grazing the cheek of Collins.
“Pooh! pooh! pooh,” spluttered the latter, moving as if the action was necessary to disembarrass him of the unsightly object no longer there.
A new source of curiosity was now created, not only among the swimmers, but the idlers who were smoking their pipes and looking carelessly on. All now, without venturing to touch the loathsome looking thing, gathered around it endeavoring to ascertain really what it was. “What do you make of the creature?” asked corporal Nixon, who, now ascending the side of the boat, observed how much the interest of his men had been excited.
“I'm sure I can't say,” answered Jackson. “It looks for all the world like a rat, only the hair is so long. Dead enough though, for it does not budge an inch.”
“Let's see what it is,” said the man with the long hooked nose, and the peaked chin.
By no means anxious, however, to touch it with his hands, he took up the spear and turned over and over the clammy and motionless mass.
“Just as I thought,” exclaimed the corporal, with a shudder, as the weapon unfolding the whole to view, disclosed alternately the moistened hair and thick and bloody skin of a human head.
“Gemini,” cried Jackson, “how came this scalp here, it has been freshly taken—this very day—yet how could it get here?”
“Depend upon't,” said Green, “that chief that was here just now, could tell somethin' about it, if he had a mind.”
“Then he must have had it in his breech-cloth,” remarked the corporal seriously, for not a rag besides had he about him. “No, no it couldn't be him, and yet it's very strange.”
“Of course it couldn't be him,” maliciously interfered Collins, who had so far conquered his first disgust, as to take the object of discussion into his own hands, “for you know he was a Pottawattamie, and therefore wouldn't scalp for the world.”
“But whose can it be?” resumed Jackson, “and how did it get here, I am sure its that of a boy.”
“Could it have floated here from the farm?” half questioned Green musingly.
“Somethin' struck me like shots from that quarter, about an hour before the Injin swam across, and dash me, now I recollect it, I'm sure I heard a cry, just after the corporal left us to go after that bear.”
“Nonsense,” said the Virginian, “how could it float against the stream, and as for the shots you think you heard, you most have taken Ephraim Giles's axe blows for them. Besides, you couldn't hear shots at that distance. If you did, it most be from some of the hunters.”
“But the cry, corporal,” urged Jackson, “what say you to the cry Green says he heard when you left us?”
“All stuff; did anybody else hear it besides Green, you were all sitting on the bank with him?”
No one answering in the affirmative, Corporal Nixon declared the thing to be impossible, or he should have heard it too; nor could he see what connection there was between that cry—supposing there had been one—and the facts that had come immediately under their own observation.
“Hist,” interrupted Collins, placing one hand upon the speaker's shoulder, of the party, was ill calculated to re-assure them.
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