Scouting with Daniel Boone

by Everett T. Tomlinson

He fell several feet before the decayed wood provided a foothold strong enough to enable him to stand. Fortunately the hollow of the tree was larger than his body, and although he was cramped and almost blinded by the decayed mass, he nevertheless managed to reach his hunting-knife, and, making a small opening through the soft wood, peeped out to see if his enemies were within sight. As he did so his fears were aroused that the tree itself might fall. It was a mere shell and so decayed that he was surprised that his descent had not torn it asunder.

At that moment a wild cry, plainly from the road, came to his ears. Then shouts were followed by the reports of guns and answering whoops from the Indians.

Anxious for his friend Israel, Peleg turned once more to ascertain if any of his enemies were near his hiding-place. He was hopeful that his trail could not be followed farther than the bank of the little brook, although he was sufficiently familiar with Indian ways to know that the red men, if they really were pursuing him, would run in either direction along the banks until they found the place where he had left the water. He smiled as he recalled how he had been standing in the stream when he had thrown his arms around the trunk of the bending tree. Singing Susan was still held, but it would be impossible for him in his cramped position to make use of her musical voice.

Suddenly Peleg was startled to behold an Indian step forth from the forest and stand for a moment on the bank of the stream almost directly beneath him. His surprise increased when he recognized the warrior as Henry. He had believed that the white Shawnee, as Henry had loved to call himself, had been killed in the attack on Boonesborough. His brave deed in extinguishing the fire that had been kindled by the burning arrow had been followed, as Peleg and others had believed, by his death. At least every one had seen him fall from the roof and roll to the ground. It is true, his body had not been recovered, but there were other bodies which had similarly disappeared.

When his first feeling of astonishment had passed and Peleg was convinced that it indeed was Henry who was beneath him, a feeling of intense anger swept over the young settler. Henry was white, and yet had renounced his allegiance to his own people and gone back to the Shawnees, and with them he was now making war upon his own nation! There was little in his present appearance to distinguish him from other braves of the tribe. He wore the scalp-lock and was clad in the Indian garb.

Peleg's problem in part was solved when at that moment the rotten wood gave way beneath him, and the tree, unable longer to support the weight of the young scout, fell with a crash to the ground. As it struck the bank the tree was rent asunder, and to the white Shawnee's astonishment Peleg scrambled to his feet from out of the wreckage.

Before he could brush the dust from his eyes and bring Singing Susan to his shoulder Henry leaped forward and placed both hands upon the barrel of the rifle, saying, "No shoot broder."

"You are no brother of mine!" said Peleg. "You are a Shawnee and not a white Shawnee, either! You are fighting us!"

"No fight broder," repeated Henry. "Broder show way to fort."

For some strange reason which Peleg was unable to explain even to himself, he said abruptly: "Lead the way, then! If you can take me safely through the line of these savages, I shall never forget you."