Harper's Round Table, October 6, 1896

A HOME-RUN IN INDIANA.

BY GARRETT NEWKIRK.

The men of the block-house fort had eaten breakfast by candle-light, for an early start to their work upon the various clearings. The long, rough table would be reset later for the women and children. They were a band of settlers in the wilderness, who had arrived from Virginia the preceding autumn barely in time to build one house for the shelter of all. Before another summer should be over each family would possess a dwelling of its own, and the beginning of a farm great with the promise of future orchards and fields of grain.

The severity of the winter had departed, March was bringing many days of brightness, with songs from the earlier birds of spring. It was now the hour of dawn, and, far to the east, above where rolled the broad Ohio, the sky was rosy with the sun's bright greeting. Across the Big Blue River to the west were clouds of morning mist, which made the higher hills beyond appear like wooded islands in a rolling sea.

John Martin stood near the block-house, with his long rifle on his arm and his axe in hand, ready to start for the home clearing. He was twenty-five years old, of medium height and excellent form. There was not his equal in the settlement for activity and strength.

By his side stood his wife, a girlish-looking woman yet in her "teens," with her hands clasped upon his shoulder. Her eyes were looking earnestly into his, and there was anxiety in her voice as she said:

"I hope, John, you and Stephen are not growing careless about watching because no Indians have been seen for many weeks. You know one can never tell when they may come, 'like a thief in the night.' Do you keep one on guard while the other works, as you used to?"

"Well, no, we haven't lately, to tell the truth, Mary," he replied; "it seems like such a waste of time when there's so much to do. We've cut away the undergrowth for a good distance round to give us a clear view, and we both work and watch the best we can. I've heard the Indians were entirely out of powder and lead this spring, and they will not probably go on the war-path till they get some. Don't you worry, dear; I don't believe there's any danger now. Come on, Stephen," he called, "let's be off; it's been daylight half an hour; you can 'most see the sun."

The youth addressed was standing with their mother, a few steps apart, and they had been conversing in low tones. He was only fifteen, her "baby," and the subject of her special tenderness and care; for he was the only one of her children who had no memory of his father, a brave soldier of the Revolution, who had come home from Yorktown but to spend a year and die.

Though a gray-haired woman of more than fifty years, she was still vigorous, and there was rich color in her cheeks. She had thrown a shawl over her head and shoulders, and come out as usual "to see the boys off."

"Aren't you going to take your rifle with you, son?" she asked of Stephen, as he turned to go.

"No, mother; I think not to-day. The fact is, I've carried the gun back and forth all winter and never had the least use for it, and it's powerful heavy, especially at night after a hard day's work. I reckon I'm getting lazy," he added, with an attempt to smile.

The mother sighed, knowing well that "laziness" in this case meant weariness; that the lad was doing more than he ought, from a boy's ambition to do a man's work.

"All right," she said, gently; "perhaps it's just as well, though I've half a notion to go along and stand guard myself. Take good care of this boy," she said to John. "I'm afraid he's overworking; you're both so ambitious, just like your father."

"Yes, mother," John replied, cheerily, "but it's hard to hold him back; you see he takes after father and mother both."

At this they all laughed, and the brothers walked away, followed by the gaze of loving eyes till their forms had disappeared among the trees.

At the home clearing the morning passed as usual, with the work of felling trees and piling brush. At noon the two ate their "dinner" of cold johnny-cake and dried venison by the smouldering coals of a brush-heap, whereon they also boiled a pot of water and made "corn coffee."

"We can always work better," John had said, "for a little something hot;" and they sweetened the "coffee" with maple-sugar made by mother and Mary from sap of trees growing near the fort.

After half an hour's rest they cut down a tall tree, which fell northward, as Stephen said, "pointing to the fort." They had trimmed away the limbs, and Stephen was "topping" the tree--that is, cutting off the small end of the trunk to go with the brush for burning. John was measuring off the "cuts," when a large buck sprang into the clearing from the south, and paused with head erect, looking backward.

To John this seemed a joyful opportunity. The men of the settlement had taken little time for hunting during recent weeks, and meat was getting scarce. Very quietly, but quickly, he crept along the log to where his rifle stood leaning against the stump, while Stephen had as quickly dropped from sight behind the brush. The left shoulder of the deer was fairly presented at a distance of only fifty yards, and almost instantly he gave a bound forward and fell dead, shot through the heart.

Laying down the weapon John started to run to the buck, passing near Stephen and saying, "Load the gun, and I'll--" But the look and attitude of his brother made him pause. He was gazing intently, not toward the deer, but in the direction from which it had come. John turned and beheld a startling sight. Stealthily approaching along a little ravine, not far away, were a dozen or more savages in war-paint and feathers.

John was a man of quick decision and resolute action. All the meaning of the situation flashed upon his mind. They were but two, and outnumbered six or eight to one; they had but one gun, that empty, fifty feet distant toward the foe. But the way was open to the fort, across the clearing and through the woods. Had he been alone, he would have sprung to the path in a moment and gained a good start on the savages. But Stephen had the unfortunate habit of hesitating in emergencies. Whenever startled or surprised he seemed powerless to act, and would stand as one dazed. John had to go to him, therefore, take him by the shoulders, turn him about, and say,

"Run to the fort!" pushing with the word to get him started. Once going, however, he ran like a frightened doe; so hard, indeed, that without the restraint and guidance of his brother he would have been exhausted early in the race.

The Indians, of course, on finding their approach discovered, sprang nimbly to the pursuit, but they had at first to run up hill, and when they came to the tree the foremost stopped to examine the gun and pouches, and a dispute arose over their possession. This was quickly settled by the chief, but every moment gained was precious to the fugitives.

Any company of men in danger must needs have a captain, and John was born for a commander, whether of two or fifty. He set the pace which he believed Stephen could keep to the end, and said:

"Don't look back; I will keep watch on the Indians for us both. We must not follow our usual path too closely. If the way is clear we must cut short wherever we can."

John had taken note as they ran of several important facts. Only two or three of the Indians carried rifles, and they were not among the foremost. He believed that, in accordance with the report he had heard, the guns were empty.

The Indian who had secured the white man's rifle had stopped to load it, and was now far in the rear. It was the evident purpose of the leaders to run their victims down and kill them with tomahawk and knife; then, if possible, they would surprise the fort, massacre the inmates, and carry away the ammunition there to be found.

The reason for their confidence soon became apparent. Stephen, notwithstanding his brother's advice, could not avoid now and then turning his head for a backward glance, and he it was who first recognized in the foremost runner a famous Indian chief named Bigfoot, known as the bravest warrior and swiftest runner of the Wyandotte tribe. It was reported, also, that he had three brothers, nearly equal to himself in swiftness, who usually went with him on his expeditions.

There had not been a doubt in the mind of John about his own ability to outrun the Indians. The question from the first had been how to save Stephen, and this new discovery made the situation desperate. The boy could run very swiftly for a short distance, but he lacked the endurance of a fully developed man. In spite of his brother's encouragement his steps began to flag. Bigfoot was easily gaining upon them, and three others were not far behind him. Soon he came so near that John feared he might, by a quick rush, be able to throw his tomahawk with deadly effect. He said to Stephen,

"Jump behind the big tree we are coming near, but keep on running."

Dropping behind a pace or two, he followed Stephen's movement in line with the tree. The Indian, fearing an assault, halted for a moment, and by this they gained several rods. The ruse was repeated two or three times, and they were now half-way to the fort.

Here Stephen seemed to be wellnigh exhausted and ready to despair. He said to John,

"Run ahead and save yourself. I'm a goner, anyway."