Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the OhioStratemeyer, Edward
General
Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the Ohio
Stratemeyer, Edward
Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction
The situation was talked over while they waited for the Indians to
reappear. Some brushwood had been gathered for the fire, and Mrs. Dobson
and the children were placed behind this and behind some of the horses.
“I’m going over into the woods,” said Barringford, to the others. “If I
see anything wrong, I’ll screech like an owl.”
“Do you want me to go along?” asked Rodney.
“No, lad, I want you to stay here, by Nell an’ the twins.”
Barringford slipped to the rear, crawled through the grass, and thus
reached a few low bushes, from which he made his way into the forest.
Two hours went by slowly. Not an Indian showed himself, nor did any
signal come from Barringford. The men remained on the alert, and when a
rabbit crossed the trail two drew a bead on the animal like a flash.
“I trust Sam hasn’t gotten into trouble,” said Rodney, at last.
“If he has, he’ll have to git out o’ it,” answered one of the others,
with a shrug of his shoulders.
Presently one of the regulars saw a form wriggling through the grass. He
was on the point of firing when he recognized the old frontiersman.
Barringford came in a good deal out of breath.
“We’ve got to move, an’ move quick, too!” he announced. “There’s a crowd
o’ thirty Injuns over thar,”—he pointed with his hand. “They are goin’
to attack us as soon as the sun goes down.”
“But where shall we move to?” questioned Rodney.
“I war thinkin’ o’ thet cave ye spoke about, Hempser,” went on
Barringford, turning to one of the other old hunters. “You said it war
nigh here.”
“It’s half a mile beyond the cliff,” was Hempser’s answer. “I don’t know
the way very good, but I think I can find it.”
“Then thet is where we’ll go, an’ to onct,” decided Sam Barringford.
Not a minute was lost in breaking camp, and in a close body the
pack-train set out, past the cliff and then through a valley of heavy
grass and bushes. The men carried their guns ready for use, and screened
Mrs. Dobson and the children as much as possible.
“Oh dear! I’d rather be dead than be so worried,” sighed the woman. “I
am that nervous I am ready to drop!”
At the end of the short valley was another rise of rocks, among which
was located the cave. They had just gained the first of the rocks when a
hideous war-whoop sounded out on the afternoon air.
“They have discovered us!” cried Rodney, and he was right. At the far
end of the valley appeared fully a score of Indians, a few on horseback
and the others on foot.
The Indians had been surprised, thinking the whites were still on the
trail. But they soon recovered, and came riding and running towards our
friends, yelling at the top of their lungs and flourishing their
tomahawks. A moment later they sent a volley of arrows and several rifle
shots, for some carried one kind of weapon and some the other.
“Are you hurt?” asked Barringford of Rodney, as he saw the young soldier
stagger.
“No, an arrow hit me in the coat-sleeve, that’s all—it didn’t get
through my shirt though.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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