Even over the badly decomposed bodies of the two unfortunate men, killed at the “big lick,” his manner was the same.
“Sure, they’d ha’ be’an far better presarved if put in the brine! An’ so much o’ it, handy like, ’tis a shame, it is!” said he.
But notwithstanding, Quayle, as well as all the others, was much affected by the awful sight the removal of the brush heap disclosed. Ree knew from John’s description just where to look for the bodies of the murdered men, and he hoped to find something that his friend might have overlooked, which would reveal the men’s identities. Sergeant Quayle and the woodsmen had also been anxious to see if they could not tell who the unfortunates were, and it was for these reasons that the springs were visited, though they lay somewhat away from the direct trail.
Nothing did the little party find to shed any light on the mysterious murder. The older woodsmen declared that both the dead men must have come from some distant point. If either had belonged anywhere in the vicinity of the Ohio river, they would have seen them at some time, they were sure. Sergeant Quayle was of the opinion, from the dress and general appearance of the murdered pair, that they had come from some of the British posts in the Northwest, probably Detroit. Yet he expressed the belief that Indians had committed the murder, and only when Kingdom reminded him of the evidence afforded by the pair of gloves that had been found, did he say:
“Leastwise, we’ll agree to this, lad; savages done it. White men or red men, they was blackhearted savages that done such a dirty deed!”
The party spent a night in the vicinity of the salt springs. Though regretting the least delay, and anxious always to be pushing on, Kingdom was greatly interested in the evidences of civilization having at one time had a foothold at the “lick,” as John had been. He was fortunate in learning more about the matter than Jerome had learned, however, for one of the woodsmen—a great, broad-shouldered young fellow, whose name, oddly enough, was Small,—knew much about the springs.
In camp at night he told the others how, several years earlier, Gen. Samuel H. Parsons had come from Connecticut and attempted to establish a salt factory at the place. He undertook to purchase twenty-five thousand acres of land, embracing the springs and the territory about them, and expected to reap a great fortune. He was greatly disappointed in the quantity of salt the water contained, but might have carried out his plan, anyway, had it not been that, in returning from the springs to the east, he was drowned by the upsetting of his canoe at the Beaver falls. The purchase of the great tract he had intended buying, was, therefore, never completed.
“But as a rule, lad, ye’ll note as ye go through life,” said the Sergeant to Ree—he nearly always addressed his words to Kingdom “as a rule, ye’ll note that parsons are more partial to poultry than to salt. Still, ye’ll do well to tie to the parsons, Lord bless ’em! It’s a preacher I’d ha’ be’an me ownsilf but fur——”
The Sergeant left his exclamation unfinished and with a sigh, which was also a chuckle, lay down and drew his blanket close about him.
Kingdom planned to lead his party directly to the cabin on the Cuyahoga. He was hoping he would find John Jerome in that neighborhood or in hiding at the old poplar, even while he told himself how little ground he had for such a thought.