Nor were the men lacking in appreciation. The younger generation remained silent, secretly wishing their bravery and marksmanship had scattered the foe, yet unable to deny that Dale’s medicine had been very powerful. Those with families stared upon him as they might gaze on one who had looked on David.
They congregated around the Davis cabin after the morning meal and forgot there was much work to be done. They were eager to renew their fires of this new faith by listening to him. And after his exaltation had softened enough to permit of speech the trader once more harangued them on his influence over the natives. He was constantly in motion, his swinging arms keeping a path clear as he strode through the group and back again and addressed the mountains and horizon. He was too full of the sweets of a peaceful victory to confine his utterance to any individual, and he spoke to the whole frontier.
He concluded a long and eloquent speech by saying:
“So after all, as you settlers have learned, the Ohio tribes, yes, and all tribes, will always hark to the one word—trade. They are now dependent upon the white man for traps and guns, even their women’s clothing. Trade with them and they will remain your friends, for your goods they must have.
“You can plant your war-posts three feet apart along the whole length of Virginia, and you’ll always have work for your rifles and axes until the last Indian-hunter is killed. I admit they can be exterminated, but you’ll pay an awful price in doing it. But give them a chance to live, carry trade-belts to them, and you shall have peace.”
Even Uncle Dick, the aged one, had nothing to say. But it was Patsy I was watching while Dale talked. She never took her eyes from him, and her gaze was idolatrous in its love. She believed in his powers implicitly; and to bask in the reflection of his greatness was the sweetest triumph she had ever experienced. Throughout that day the scouts were busy in the forest, ranging very far on the track of Black Hoof’s band. When they began dropping in after sundown all their reports were alike.
There were no Indian-signs besides those left by the departing Shawnee band. This band, said the scouts, was very large and quite sufficient to cause the settlement much trouble and inevitable losses. There was no mistaking the story told by the trail. The Indians had marched rapidly, swinging north.
Every emotion, unless it be that of love, must have its ebb; and by nightfall the settlers were returning to their old caution. Dale did not relish this outcropping of old habits. Throwing open the door of the Davis cabin after Davis had closed and barred it, he cried: “Let us have air. There is no danger. You’re like silly children afraid of the dark. Your scouts have told you there are no Indians near. Yet the minute the sun sets you imagine the woods are full of them. I will go out alone and unarmed and I will shout my name. If any Shawnee who was not in Black Hoof’s band hears my voice he will come to me. After he learns I have friends here on Howard’s Creek, he will go away. Give me time to act before that scoundrel Connolly can stir up more trouble and I’ll make a lasting peace between the Greenbriar, the Clinch and the Holston and the Ohio tribes; and I’ll make Dunmore look like a fool.”
His overpowering personality, his massive way of asserting things made a deep impression on the simple folks. They asked only for a chance to plant and reap. When he went out alone that night he brought them deep under his spell. As he plunged into the forest and stumbled about he took pains to advertise his presence. Unknown to the settlers, I trailed him. I was within ten feet of him when he halted and shouted his name, and in their language called on the Shawnees to come to him.
For half an hour he wandered about, proclaiming he was the Pack-Horse-Man, the ancient friend of the Shawnees and Mingos. Let him be a fool according to Jesse Hughes’ notion, yet he was a very brave man. He had the courage to attempt proof of his belief in the honesty of the Shawnees.