Far Past the Frontier

by James A. Braden

John found himself wondering whether the Indians might not undertake to whet their appetites for blood by killing himself and Ree. It was of the terrible torture of Col. Crawford which Ree was thinking, and he found it hard to keep from hating the savages before him, horrible and cruel in their war paint.

And could he have looked but a few months into the future and have seen the awful carnage in which Capt. Pipe and his braves had a prominent part, at the defeat of General St. Clair near Fort Jefferson, in what is now Mercer County, Ohio, he could not have restrained his hatred as he did. He knew in after years what that battle was, and knew that the Indians boasted that their arms ached from their work with the scalping knife.

The frightful dance went on when Capt. Pipe had finished speaking, his words inspiring the warriors with new vigor who now whirled around the circle with great rapidity, going through all the motions of attacking, vanquishing and scalping an enemy. At a call from the chief, other warriors, who were standing by, sprang into the ring, joining in the singing and contortions of faces and bodies with furious energy. More and more followed as from among the dancers Capt. Pipe called from time to time, urging all who wished to win renown as warriors, and to hang scalps of the hated whites at their belts, to join him.

Each addition to the whirling, shrieking, blood-thirsty band was greeted with thunderous whoops and in the end nearly one hundred and fifty braves were going through all the barbarous awe-inspiring motions of the horrid celebration.

Well might Ree and John feel alarm for their own safety; but they looked upon the terrifying scene quite calmly, notwithstanding that, as their passions were kindled and their savage patriotism aroused by the fervor of the dance, the Indians gave them many a glance which was far from friendly.

There were two things which Ree could not help but notice as the revel continued; one was that Big Buffalo had not joined the dancers, the other that Gentle Maiden kept her eyes downcast or looked away across the lake, not once turning toward her father’s painted braves. He could not help thinking it strange that the Buffalo had not signified his intention of joining the warriors, and sincerely wished the unfriendly fellow had done so. There was no other Indian whom he had so much reason to dislike, nor one whose absence was so greatly to be desired.

For more than two hours the dance went on, interrupted only when some one—usually an old Indian whose fighting days were past—clapped his hands as a signal that he wished to make a speech. But at last Capt. Pipe called a halt and stepped out from among the dancers. With a fierce look toward Big Buffalo he demanded to know of him why he would not join the war party.

Ree and John could not understand all that was said, but they saw plainly that the chief was angry. In substance the reason of Big Buffalo was that it would not do for all the strong men to leave the village; that some one must remain to provide meat for the women and children, and to protect the town.

Capt. Pipe heard these excuses with a scowl black as a thunder cloud. His giant frame stretched itself to its greatest height and his voice was filled with contempt as he flung forth but one word:

“Squaw!”