22 A Messenger from the North

The morning was quiet and Danville seemed peaceful. I met Jasper, and he nodded as if nothing had occurred to disturb the placid course of events. Yet this quiet was of short duration, although its end came in a way that I did not expect.

A messenger, riding hard, arrived in Danville shortly before the noon hour, and he had news that made women and many a man, too, shudder. The tribes, flushed by their great success, and scorning midwinter, had crossed the Ohio in force, and already the torch and tomahawk were busy in Kentucky. The band numbered many hundreds of warriors, the messenger said, and Hoyoquim again led. They had burst in a flood of fire upon the undefended settlements, and along a line of many miles the bodies of women and children lay amid smoking ruins.

The messenger was but one of those who rode throughout the land for help, and it was a message that in the last fifteen years or more, or since the first house was built at Boonesborough, had been borne often through the settlements, and here, after the first shock, it was received with the usual stoicism of the border. To fight the savages, to be on guard against a treacherous and cruel foe, seemed to our people an eternal condition, and they did not complain. Nor was there any delay in the answer to the cry for help. A few minutes after the messenger came I met old Joe Grimes. His excitement was visible, his eyes flaming with it, and he clapped one hand heavily upon my shoulder, pointing with the other toward the north.

“They are calling for us there, John!” he cried. “We must make haste! They need us! It’s the people of the West now who must do the work; they’ve got to save Kentucky and the Northwest for the republic!”

I looked him squarely in the eyes, but he did not see the humour of his words.

“And if you are to save the West for the republic what is to become of the great conspiracy in which you are such a master figure, Joe?” I asked. “Surely you have not forgotten your Western empire?”

“That Spanish business?” he said. “Oh, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll never put my arm out farther than I can draw it back; besides, I haven’t time.”

Then he was off in a moment seeking for volunteers to go against the tribes. It was the note of the war trumpet ringing in his ears that had changed his mind overnight. He was willing to conspire as long as his anger lasted, but he was not willing that others should do the same, and now at the cry for help he hurried to the defence of his chosen land. Curry and Harvey showed the same spirit, and it was obvious that the Indian alarm had blown away many noxious vapours, serving at least one good purpose. The little town was soon full of men coming with rifle and ammunition pouch, and ready to march northward against the foe. There would be no lack of zeal.

I went in the afternoon to see Rose Carew, having formed a project, the execution of which I had at heart. She received me in a manner most grateful to me, as it indicated that my coming was not unpleasant, and I felt at ease in her presence. She too had heard of the message brought across the Ohio, and her woman’s heart thrilled with sympathy for those exposed to the tomahawk, a feeling all the greater because she herself had been under the edge of that weapon, and knew its terrors. And she showed a spirit like unto that of Underwood. Kentucky must go to the relief, and go at once. Naught else could be thought of at such a time. When the East was loaded down with its own troubles the West must show how it could defend not only itself, but the interests of the republic to which it belonged. She took it for granted that I should go, not only willing, but eager to accept such an opportunity, and it was then that I approached my subject.

“In truth I shall go,” I said. “I had no thought of anything else; and I should be glad if I were in a command with your father, Mr. Carew. He is sure to distinguish himself.”

She gave me a look of surprise.

“I did not know that he was going,” she said. “Perhaps he is—is old for such an arduous campaign,”

I saw clearly that she did not wish Mr. Carew to join the expedition, but I was resolved that he should; it seemed to me a loophole for escape from many dangers, and so I ridiculed the idea of his being too old, as, in truth, I had a right to do, since he was not past fifty, and in the height of health and vigour. I told, without direct reference to him, what an obligation lay upon every man to go for the defence of the border; even the thought of that poor invalid wife did not deter me, and I saw conviction growing upon her face. As I have said before, I think that women are the truest patriots of all, and if one woman sends her son or husband to war another may well send her father.

“You will see that he comes back to us again, will you not, Mr. Lee?” she said, as I was about to leave. “You have done us one service, and I do not hesitate to ask for another.”

“Mr. Carew is able to care for himself,” I replied, “but if he should need help he shall have all that I can give.”

The glow of gratitude appeared in her eyes, but she said only:

“I shall look first for his coming, Mr. Lee, and then for yours.”

When I went from her presence I felt much joy, mingled with much pain. The old disgrace was now all the more hitter to bear because, had it not been, I believed that the way I longed most to tread might be open for me. I was a fool, I told myself, to be thinking of the curve of a girl’s eyebrow, and I turned at once to sterner matters.

In the short time left to me I assiduously spread the report that Mr. Carew was eager to go against the savages, as he had great interests in Kentucky, and on that account felt the weight of his obligation to assist in the defence. So when they came to him and gave compliments to his zeal he was somewhat taken aback; but seeing no way of escape with honour, made the best of it, and pretended to the zeal that he did not feel. There was in him something of Jasper’s shifty character, though the grain of it was better. Jasper himself had made a hasty journey to Lexington, and he slipped through our sieve.

The expedition drawn from many parts of Kentucky started in three days, so rapid were our preparations, but it was none too soon, as the entire border lay under the tomahawk, and the tale of slaughter did not cease to come.

Ours was a little army in which every man commanded himself. We had colonels and captains selected by ourselves whom we could turn into privates when we chose, and who could give advice which might or might not be taken. In truth, we represented the sort of government in which Joe Grimes believed—every man for himself, and “devil take the hindmost.” All were brave and strong, sons of the forest, who knew the Indian trail when they saw it, and were confident of their own powers.

As we advanced rapidly northward our numbers increased, and it was a picturesque little force variously clad and well armed. These men, with their fiery spirit and eager desire to close with the foe, presented a striking contrast to the drooping army of St. Clair which had perished in the great woods.

The zeal and rage of the borderers increased as we approached the Ohio. The full tale of slaughter had not been told. The tomahawk was flashing along a line of two hundred miles, and the savages were showing no mercy. We talked of these things, and the desire for revenge burned in every bosom. Hoyoquim’s army, in great force, it was said, was besieging Winston’s Station, near the Ohio, and increasing our speed again, we hastened to its relief. When within one day’s march of the Station, Osseo joined us, coming into camp at daybreak, and taking his place without a word beside me at the camp fire. Nor did I speak for a half hour, merely helping him to food and waiting until in his own good time he should choose to talk. Then he looked around at our motley little army and said:

“In the camp of the General-who-never-walks the fire burned too low; here it burns too high.”

I sighed. I could not help it. I had seen already the fault of which Osseo spoke, but I was reluctant to mention it. Sanguine of success and eager to show the regular troops how superior the borderers were in the conduct of Indian war, they thought only of finding the foe. Osseo said no more, and while we sat in silence another approached us, and to my surprise it wag Underwood.

“How happens it that you are here, Mr. Underwood?” I asked, and then I would have given much had I not spoken the question, as his face flushed a little, and plainly he knew the cause of my surprise. But he answered:

“My errand is the same as yours, Mr. Lee. I come to fight the savages.”

His face, the flush departing now, seemed paler to me than ever, but the spirit I saw that night when he denounced the conspirators burned in his eyes.

“I am not much of a forester,” he said, “and I know little of Indian war, but it is not a time when any of us should shun the conflict.”

I welcomed him at our fireside, and Osseo gave his approval. I felt an increasing liking for this man. It seemed to me a fine thing that he should so far overcome his physical impulses that he could force himself to come upon such service. I not only liked him, I admired him. His delay in joining us, I learned, was due to an effort to raise additional volunteers.

Our halt was brief, and as we approached Winston Station a messenger informed us that the heroic band of defenders from the cover of their wooden walls had repulsed every attack of the savage army, which was now retiring, in fear of our advance. Then our men shouted their joy, and their fiery zeal swelled higher and higher. They would follow the horde of Hoyoquim and destroy it. Now, they said, the difference between soldiers and borderers was plain to every one; even the savages were aware of it, and while they would never retire in the face of the regulars they knew too much to await the attack of the true foresters.

“Across the Ohio and after them!” was the universal shout, and all were eager to strike a blow which should balance the defeat of St. Clair. Curry sprang upon a log and made a speech full of heat. The man in truth had a rude eloquence, and it was sufficient for his hearers. We pressed forward at once upon the trail of the savage army, crossing the Ohio, and after passing a low range of hills we entered a beautiful prairie country.

The air turned warm; the light snow melted and, despite lingering winter, the grass and foliage showed here and there.

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