“Because,” replied his mother, “the Indians were in the habit of attacking the white settlements then; they don’t go on their war expeditions after cold weather sets in. And,” she added, sighing, “I shall be glad when snow comes, for I shall feel that we are safe until spring opens.”
“The Allens are dreadful mad about their cattle,” remarked Tom. “The old man tracked them to a ravine in the woods, and found that his oxen had been killed and dressed: the horns and hide lay on the ground, and the blood was scarcely cold, but not an Indian was to be seen. He couldn’t even find a trail, and he’s an old Indian-fighter, you know.”
“Have any Indians been seen near here, since?”
“Yes; Mr. Payson, the missionary, saw one the other morning as he was going from Root River settlement to Slough Creek. He was passing the Norwegian’s cabin, near the grove, when suddenly a Sioux galloped by on his pony, giving a loud whoop as he rode out of sight. And Mrs. Pingry had a great scare. Her husband was away after supplies, and she was alone about her work, when the door opened and an Indian stalked 110 in and took a seat. Pretty soon a second came, and did the same, and then another; until a dozen sat round the room, silently smoking their pipes. She says she knew by their manner and the way they were painted that they intended mischief. She determined, however, not to appear frightened, and went on with her work. Soon one of them got up and broke open her husband’s trunk, and then the rest fell to rummaging the house, helping themselves to whatever they wished; and she was expecting they would next assault her, when, to her relief, she heard the barking of a dog, and the rumbling of wheels, at which the savages took alarm, and in a moment were gone.”
“And what,” asked Mrs. Jones, “do the settlers think of this?”
“O, they only laugh about it. They don’t expect any serious trouble. They say that the chiefs have had a grand talk with the government agent, and declare that they wish to be on good terms with us. But some of our people do all they can to provoke the Indians, and say they would like to have a brush with the red-skins!”
“But what’s that?” he exclaimed, as loud shouts and the barking of dogs broke on their ears. Mrs. Jones and Tom hurried to the door, and saw some men and boys chasing a large animal across the prairie.
“A bear! a bear!” cried a neighbor, rushing 111 breathlessly up to Tom, saying, “Is your father at home? Tell him to come on, and we’ll pepper his carcass!” and without waiting for an answer, or explaining whose carcass he meant, he hastened after the others.
The creature that they were pursuing was so fat that he did not run very swiftly, and the dogs gained on him; aware of which, he was making desperate efforts to gain the shelter of a small grove not far off, while stringing along for quite a distance behind were his pursuers. Some were hatless, a few had guns, but most were armed with pitchforks or clubs; and one man, in his zeal, carried a piece of rusty stove-pipe, although what use he proposed to put it to in capturing Bruin, it was difficult to imagine, unless he intended, should Bear gain the grove, to smoke him out with it. The truth is, he was putting up a stove in his cabin when the cry of “Bear, bear,” interrupted his labors, and he joined the chase, forgetting that he held anything in his hand. He was wiry, lank, and long-legged, with sandy hair that came down straight and thin upon his shoulders, and being without his coat, with pants that reached only half way between his knees and ankles, he cut a ludicrous figure as he straddled on, followed by a short, dumpy man, who, waddle as ambitiously as he might, swiftly fell behind, 112 without, however, seeming in the least discouraged.
“There, they are surrounding the grove,” said Tom, as the men and boys spread out from the centre till they had encompassed Bruin’s leafy retreat.