The Trail of the Seneca

by James A. Braden

As if he would find a refuge there, John hastened to the rude shelter where he had spent the night and where a few coals, still bright and warm, seemed to radiate a protecting air about the lonely spot.

All thoughts and actions are influenced more or less by one’s surroundings, and being in the presence of that which suggested comfort and tranquillity, the startled boy was able presently to regain his composure somewhat. But if ever John desired the company of Ree Kingdom, and felt the need of his aid and counsel, he did now.

If only his own inclinations were to have been consulted, Jerome would have set out for home at as lively a pace as possible. Only the thought of the questions Ree would ask, and which he would be unable to answer, stood in his way. He could easily assure himself that, so far as his own curiosity was concerned, he had no wish to look again upon the awful objects the brush covered. Yet it would not do to go back to Kingdom with practically no definite information.

Mustering all the resolution he could, therefore, John returned to the dreadful spot, walking with great caution and with many anxious glances in all directions. He knew that the two bodies must have been placed where he had found them at least two or three days earlier, yet he was haunted by the feeling that the murderers were hiding close by. He rather expected, indeed, that the next moment they would jump out and seize him.

In this state of mind it required all the courage he could command to take hold of the lower portions of the matted mass of brush and drag the whole heap to one side; but he did it, and quickly then, lest his nerve fail him before the task was done, he examined both the corpses.

One was that of a man of about thirty years, dressed in homespun clothes and having in general appearance the unmistakable marks of the frontier about him. The hair was red and the face and hands showed many freckles despite the discoloration which had taken place.

The other body had been in life a robust giant of a fellow, perhaps twenty-two years old, with long, thick black hair, and a short, stubby growth of beard upon his face. The finer texture of the clothing and the style of the garments denoted a man from the east, one who was not ordinarily a hunter or a woodsman.

Both men had been shot—one from the side, for the bullet had entered his temple; the other undoubtedly from behind. The wound was hardly noticeable but the bullet had seemingly shattered the spinal column.

No valuables, no papers, no arms, absolutely nothing was there, so far as John could find, on or near either of the bodies which would furnish any clew to their identity. Powder horns, knives and all things of the kind usually carried by men in the woods had been taken away. The further fact that the dead had been scalped, as well as robbed, convinced John that Indians had done the deed. He did not linger long, however, to speculate upon the question. Placing the covering of brush over the bodies again, he literally fled from the spot, nor did he slacken his speed to a rapid walk until he had left the cause of his alarm a full mile behind.

Unnerved and depressed as he was, John entirely forgot the danger which confronted him in his accustomed haunts, and constantly thought of but one thing, which was that he must see Kingdom and tell him of the terrible discovery without a moment’s delay.