Read CHAPTER XIV. of Field and Forest The Fortunes of a Farmer , free online book, by Oliver Optic, on ReadCentral.com.

IN WHICH PHIL ROWS THE BARGE UP THE BIG FISH RIVER

If there were any Indians between the Castle and Kit Cruncher’s cabin, we were certainly between two fires, and it was necessary that something should be done very soon.

“What makes you think there are Indians below us, Kit?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you, boy,” replied the patriarchal hunter, as he turned a slice of bacon in the pan.  “I’ve seen Injun tracks p’inted that way.”

“Where did you see them?”

“Over on the Little Fish.  It has rained hard sence I went up the river, and the tracks I see was new ones.”

“Were they above or below the lower rapids?”

“Above, boy.  I struck across the country above the swamp, and hit my brook near the spring where it starts.  Two Injuns had come down, I know.”

“Well, Kit, those were the two who crossed the Big Fish on a log-two of the four who went to the island this morning and captured Miss Gracewood.  The other two came around by the river in the dugout, and camped near the lower rapids.  In my opinion, they had agreed to meet there.”

“Most like it is as you say, boy.  I’m glad it’s no wus.  But ’tain’t safe for the gal to stay hyer.  There’ll be a hund’ed Injuns down hyer to-morrow, mebbe as arly as daylight.  I cal’late them two that come over this mornin’ is doggin’ round the Castle now.”

“If they are, they have found a camp of soldiers there, and not a very good chance to plunder the place.”

Kit Cruncher placed the frying-pan, in which the great slices of bacon had been cooked, upon a chest, with a basket of crackers.  Ella ate heartily of the meat, for it was very good, in spite of the homely manner in which it was served.  We finished the meal without any interruption from Indians or others.  The poor girl declared that she felt very much refreshed and strengthened, and was able to walk again.

“Now we are ready for a start,” said Kit, when he had put his house in order.

“How far is it through the woods to the Little Fish, Kit?” I asked.

“Across hyer ’tain’t more’n a mile.”

“Then I think we had better go that way,” I added.  “I left Mr. Gracewood’s boat not far from the place where the two rivers join, and we can go down in that.”

“Very well, boy; but I cal’late there’s three Injuns atween us and the Castle somewhar.  But ’tain’t no matter; if they show theirselves, my rifle will make quick work on ’em.”

We crossed the brook, and struck into the woods on the other side.  Ella walked by my side, holding my hand, while Kit led the way through the gloomy forest.

“Where do you suppose my father is now, Phil?” asked the poor girl.

“With the soldiers.”

“But where are the soldiers?”

“They are in the woods beyond the Big Fish, I suppose.  They must have scoured the woods down to the Missouri before dark.  I have no means of knowing whether they were able to find any tracks of the fugitives to assist them; if not, they have been very much puzzled.”

“And all this time my poor father thinks I am in the hands of the Indians, and fears that I have been killed or abused,” added Ella.

“I am very sorry; but I do not see that we can do anything to-night to relieve his anxiety.”

“No, Phil, I see that you cannot.  You have been very brave and noble, and very kind to me, and I shall remember you with gratitude as long as I live.”

“I don’t ask for anything better than to serve you,” I replied.  “In the morning the troops at the Castle will start, and I have no doubt they will communicate with those beyond the Big Fish in the course of the day.”

“I do wish father were here.  I am afraid he will expose himself to the Indians, or wear himself out, he is so anxious for me.”

“We will do the best we can to let him know that you are safe.  Perhaps Kit and I will try to find him, as soon as we have conducted you to the Castle, and relieved the anxiety of your poor mother.”

“We marched very cautiously through the woods, and with our rifles in our hands ready for instant use.  In a short time, under the skilful lead of the hunter, we reached the river; but I had left the barge a mile farther down the stream.

“I am not sure that we shall find the barge where I left it, Kit,” said I, as we took the path on the bank of the Little Fish.

“Most like you won’t, boy.  That Injun that went down to look for t’other mought have took it.”

“What will you do, then?” asked Ella.

“We shall be obliged to walk another mile, to the landing-place.”

My trembling companion was constantly in fear of an attack from the savages, or that a shot from them would hit her, or some other one of the party.  I said all I could to comfort and assure her; but the circumstances were so novel to her that she could not be reconciled to them.  As I was not without fear myself, I could not take the matter so coolly as Kit did.  But the old hunter, steady and brave as he was in peril, was a prudent man, and not at all disposed to be reckless.  He knew that an Indian bullet could kill him, as well as another man, and he had none of that affectation of courage which so often belies the boaster and the reckless man.

“Hyer’s your barge,” said Kit, ahead of us, when we had gone less than half a mile down the stream.

“So it is; but I did not leave it here,” I replied, as I glanced at the boat.

“That Injun has come up stream in it, and left it hyer.  Most like he ain’t fur from hyer.”

I assisted Ella into the barge.  Kit seated himself in the bow, and I took the oars.

“Fotch her over under the further shore, boy,” said Kit, as I pushed off the boat.  “Keep as fur as you kin from danger allus.”

The old hunter’s suggestion was certainly a good one, as was fully demonstrated only a few minutes later.  I pulled the barge to the other side of the river; but we had gone only a few rods before the crack of a rifle, followed by a whizzing bullet, assured us the enemy were at hand.  The barge was painted white, and was a shining mark in the night for the savages to fire at.

“O, mercy!” cried Ella.

“Did it hit you?” I asked, alarmed by her cry.

“No, no-but -”

“Don’t make any noise, then.”

“Run the barge ashore hyer, boy,” said Kit Cruncher, quietly.

I obeyed instantly; but another shot followed the first one, though, fortunately, neither of them did any harm.

“Let the gal go ashore,” added Kit.

I understood his plan, and assisted Ella to land.

“Run up the bank into the woods, and get behind a tree,” I said to her, as a third shot came across the river.

But the Indians were firing blindly in the dark, and though the last bullet hit the boat, we were still safe.  Kit stepped on the shore, and we dragged the boat out of the water.  The hunter paused on the bank of the river, and gazed across in the direction from which the shots came.

“There’s three on ’em over thyer,” said Kit.  “The shots was too near together to come out of one barrel.  Haul the barge up the bank afore they hev time to load up agin.”

The barge was light, and we had no difficulty in taking it up the bank into the woods.  For the present we were safe; but it was certain that there were three savages on the bank of the river, and between us and the Castle.  We had, luckily, escaped injury so far, and Kit was not the man to lead us into any unnecessary peril.  We were now on the tongue of land between the Big and the Little Fish Rivers, and only a short distance above their junction.  At the point where we landed it was less than a quarter of a mile from one river to the other.

“We can’t go down Fish River to-night,” said I, when we had pulled the boat up the bank.

“Not without resk, boy,” replied Kit.

“What shall we do?” asked the frightened Ella.

“Don’t be skeered, little gal,” interposed Kit, in a tone more tender than he was in the habit of using.  “You are as safe hyer as you’d be in your marm’s lap.”

“Can’t the savages come over here?” she inquired.

“’Pears like they can’t; leastwise, not without swimming, and we kin stop ’em faster’n they kin come over.  Rifle-balls travels fast,” answered Kit, sagely.  “But I don’t reckon they’ll want to come over hyer.”

“Do you suppose they know there are soldiers at the clearing?” I asked.

“I don’t reckon they do.  They mought know it, and they mought not; but from what you say, I cal’late they hain’t had time to go down and see.”

“Perhaps they intended to go there to-night,” I suggested.

“It mought be.”

“I think they were looking for something to eat first.  I believe the two Indians who came across the river on the log were to meet the other two at the camp on the brook where I went.  They knew they could get plenty of fish there.  After I shot one of the party at the camp, the remaining one must have come across the other two.  They will keep between us and the Castle.”

“Most like they’ve been lookin’ for the gal all the evenin’,” added Kit.

“It seems to me, if they knew the soldiers were at the clearing, they would not stay here.”

“’Tain’t much use to guess at these things.  You mought as well shoot at nothin’ in the dark.  We can’t go down Fish River to-night; that’s all that’s sartin.”

“That is very true.”

“And I cannot see my mother to-night, then,” said Ella.

“I dunno, little gal; ’pears like you can’t; but mebbe you kin see your father,” replied Kit.  “And it mought be you kin see both.  I dunno.  We must be keerful.  Better not see ’em till to-morrer ’n not see ’em at all.”

“What do you mean by seeing her father tonight, Kit?” I inquired, afraid that he was kindling vain hopes in the mind of the suffering maiden.

“I’ll tell you, boy.  Ef, as you say, them soldiers is rampagin’ over the country ’tween the Fish and Crooked River, we mought find ’em afore mornin’.  We kin kerry this boat over to the Big Fish, and land on t’other side on’t.”

“That’s a capital plan, Kit, and our safest course,” I replied.

We wasted no time in debating a question on which we were perfectly agreed.  We carried the light barge across the tongue of land, and launched it in the Big Fish.  Our party embarked, and I pulled up the river.  I realized that it would not be an easy matter to find the soldiers, for they would not kindle any camp fire, which would betray their presence to the savages.

I pulled vigorously, for half an hour, against the current; and we were satisfied that the three Indians had not crossed the river, for we were not again annoyed by them.  As the barge approached the rapids, beyond which we could not go by water, we heard a noise on the shore.

“Who goes there?” shouted a soldier.

“Friends,” I replied.

“Advance, friends, and give the countersign.”

We had no countersign, but I immediately ran the boat ashore, and we landed.