On the Kentucky Frontier: A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the WestOtis, James
History
On the Kentucky Frontier: A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West
Otis, James
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
Kenton sat like a statue in the center of the canoe, we lads being at
either end, and it seemed to me as if a full hour passed before a word
was spoken.
Then the night was so near upon us that, save directly in the middle of
the river, it was impossible to distinguish objects twenty paces
distant.
"I reckon we may as well get to work," and Kenton cautiously forced the
canoe out from amid the tangle of foliage until the current carried her
down stream.
He did not use the paddle save to keep her from running afoul of dry
brush or logs on the bank, and we had drifted two miles, perhaps, when
he suddenly bent to his work, sending the light craft across the river
at a speed I had never before seen equaled, even by my father.
I fully expected to hear the report of a rifle, or feel the sting of a
bullet when we were in the middle of the stream where a sharp-eyed
savage might see us; but nothing occurred to check our progress, and in
a marvelously short space of time we were once more screened from view;
but now on the same side of the river where we knew the painted snakes
lurked.
"You are to stay in the dugout," Simon Kenton whispered to me as he
raised his rifle. "If it so chances that I'm not back here by sunrise,
you must work your way up stream to warn Major Clarke."
Had he given me the opportunity I should have urged that he take us with
him, or wait till near morning before undertaking so dangerous a
venture; but the words had no more than been spoken when he was gone.
At one instant he was speaking with me, and at the next he had vanished
as completely and silently as if the waters had covered him. No Indian
who ever lived could have equaled him in swiftness and noiselessness.
Paul was mystified when he turned and failed to see Kenton, and I felt
forced to explain in whispers what had happened, else I believe of a
verity the lad would have cried out in his bewilderment.
It is not possible for those who have always lived in large settlements
or towns to realize the desolateness of such a position as was ours
while we waited for the return of the scout.
He had ventured into the forest where we knew to a certainty were
bloodthirsty enemies, and that he realized all the possibilities had
been shown by the order for us to work our way up-stream to warn the
on-coming boats, in case he failed to return by sunrise.
My heart was almost in my mouth as I sat there holding Paul's hand,
starting at the lightest sound, and hearing even in the rippling of the
water some token of the savages. My tongue was parched; I could not
have uttered a single word had it been necessary to speak, and only with
the greatest difficulty did I prevent my hand from trembling, thus
exposing to my companion that I was wofully afraid.
When perhaps an hour had passed it seemed to me as if we had been there
a full night, and then came that sound which I had at the same time been
expecting and fearing to hear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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