The Border Watch: A Story of the Great Chief's Last Stand

by Joseph A. Altsheler

"Look!" whispered Henry. "There is Braxton Wyatt!"

Henry and Paul were eager enough to see but the schoolmaster was perhaps the most eager of all. This was something new in his experience. He had heard much of Braxton Wyatt, the renegade, once a pupil of his, and he did not understand how one of white blood and training could turn aside to join the Indians, and to become a more ruthless enemy of his own people than the savages themselves. Yet there could be no doubt of its truth, and now that he saw Wyatt he understood. Evil passions make an evil face. Braxton Wyatt's jaw was now heavy and projecting, his eyes were dark and lowering, and his cheek bones seemed to have become high like those of the warriors with whom he lived. The good Mr. Pennypacker shuddered. He had lived long and he could read the hearts of men. He knew now that Braxton Wyatt, despite his youth, was lost beyond redemption to honor and truth. The schoolmaster shuddered again.

The boat—a large one—contained besides Wyatt a white man, obviously a renegade, and six sturdy Shawnee warriors who were wielding the paddles. The warriors were quite naked, save for the breechcloth, and their broad shoulders and chests were painted with many hideous decorations. Their rifles lay beside them. Braxton Wyatt's manner showed that he was the leader and Henry had no doubt that this was a party of scouts come to spy upon Wareville. It was wholly likely that Braxton Wyatt, who knew the place so thoroughly, should undertake such an errand.

Henry was right. Timmendiquas, de Peyster and Girty as leaders of the allied forces preparing for invasion in case Clark could not gather a sufficient force for attack, were neglecting no precaution. They had sent forth small parties to examine into the condition of every station in Kentucky. These parties were not to make any demonstration, lest the settlers be put on their guard, but, after obtaining their information, were to retire as silently as they had come. Braxton Wyatt had promptly secured command of the little force sent toward Wareville, taking with him as lieutenant a young renegade, a kindred spirit named Early.

Strange emotions agitated Wyatt when he started. He had a desire to see once more the place where he had been a boy with other boys of his own white race, and where he might yet have been with his own kind, if a soul naturally turning to malice had not sent him off to the savages. Because he was now an outcast, although of his own making, he hated his earlier associates all the more. He sought somehow to blame them for it. They had never appreciated him enough. Had they put him forward and given him his due, he would not now be making war upon them. Foolish and blind, they must suffer the consequences of their own stupidity. When Wareville was taken, he might induce the Indians to spare a few, but there were certainly some who should not be spared. His brow was black and his thoughts were blacker. It may be that Henry read them, because his hand slid gently forward to the hammer of his rifle. But his will checked the hand before it could cock the weapon, and he shook his head impatiently.

"Not now," he said in the softest of whispers, "but we must follow that boat. It is going toward Wareville and that is our way. Since we have seen him it is for us to deal with Wyatt before he can do more mischief."

Paul nodded, and even the soul of the good schoolmaster stirred with warlike ardor. He was not a child of the forest. He knew little of ambush and the trail, but he was ready to spend his strength and blood for the good of his own people. So he too nodded, and then waited for their young leader to act.

Braxton Wyatt passed on southward and up the stream of the river. There was no song among the leaves for him, but his heart was still full of cruel passions. He did not dream that a boat containing the one whom he hated most had lain in the cane within twenty yards of him. He was thinking instead of Wareville and of the way in which he would spy out every weak place there. He and Early had become great friends, and now he told his second much about the village.

"Wareville is strong," he said, "and they have many excellent riflemen. We were repulsed there once, when we made an attack in force, and we must take it by surprise. Once we are inside the palisade everything will soon be over. I hope that we will catch Ware and his comrades there when we catch the others."

"He seems hard to hold," said Early. "That escape of his from Detroit was a daring and skillful thing. I could hardly believe it when we heard of it at the Ohio. You're bound to admit that, Braxton."