CHAPTER II.
WILLIMACK, THE WYANDOT.
BY the time the Yankee had finished his repast, night had come on, and he came hurrying out of the kitchen, with his mouth full of venison steak, and ran to the window.
"How many dew yew reckon in this post, boss?" he said, turning to the young soldier.
"Myself, my father, two soldiers of the rifles, and two black boys."
"Yaas. Now let me ask yew a little question. Does it look like common sense for yew tew keep yure gates off the hinges?"
"To tell you the truth, I have some doubts myself, but the Prophet seemed to think it showed confidence in the Indians on the Wabash to leave the gates open, and it was more to please him than any thing else that we did it."
"The Prophet? Now, see here, capting; I ain't bin but a little while in this kentry, but I know what the Shawnee Prophet is. He's a treacherous old fox. He's got some plot ag'in' the people of this section, and I know it, sartin sure! Jest see the raft of villains he's got round him up thar on the Wabash. Kickapoos, Winnebagoes, Micmacs, Shawnees, and the Old Scratch knows what other nations—the riff-raff and off-scourings of the tribes. They're nice fellers to live nigh, ain't they?"
"I have often thought them dangerous," said Floyd. "But what can we do?"
"Yew kan put up yure gates, anyhow. And say; hadn't yew better call in yure men, ef yew've got any outlyin', 'cause it's gittin' dark."
"I think you are right," said Floyd.
He took down a horn, and going to the door, took a long breath and blew a gallant blast, which echoed far and wide through the depths of the forest. Shortly after, the tramp of coming feet could be heard, and there emerged from the woods behind the house four men advancing at a hurried pace. As they entered the stockade the Yankee saw that two of them were common soldiers of the American army, one an Indian of the Shawnee nation, and the fourth an old man with white hair. The Yankee swung himself up on the head of a cask standing within the stockade, and, taking out a piece of pigtail tobacco, twisted off a mighty "chaw," and sat there, rolling the sweet morsel under his tongue.
"What made you so late, father?" said young Floyd, advancing.
"Willimack got puzzled in regard to the path, and if we had not heard your horn, I do not know how long we might have stumbled about in the darkness."
The Yankee uttered a long whistle and thrust his tongue into his cheek. The sound drew the attention of the old man to him, and he scanned him curiously.
"Who is this?" he said.
"A traveler, who has stopped here for shelter," replied the young man, coming forward. "What did you mean by that whistle, Spink?"
"Sho, now! Don't be so blasted inquisitive. I wouldn't, anyhow. I'll tell yew by an by; but, the fust thing yew dew is to put up them gates, do ye hear?"
The Indian had been standing just within the gates, and, as he heard the voice of the stranger, he cast a quick glance in his direction, and his hand stole to the handle of his hatchet. But, the Yankee sat upon the cask, beating time with his heels upon the sides, and muttering to himself. The Indian stalked gravely to his side, and looked fiercely into his face. The savage was a rather good-looking brave of the Wyandot tribe, whose powerful limbs, strong shoulders, and muscular hands gave promise of great strength. The down-easter endured his fixed gaze for the space of three minutes without moving a muscle of his set face, until the savage spoke.
"Who is this?" he said. "Dare you come here to sing an evil song in the ears of my father with the gray hair, to make him distrust his brethren of the Shawnees and Wyandots?"
"Oh, git eout! Who said any thing tew yew? The most cantankerous Injin I ever see in all my born days."
"You laugh at Willimack, the chief? Why should my father put up his strong gates?"
"'Cause he's a man of sense, I guess. Now, don't rile up, Injin, don't! 'Tain't that I care any thing about yew, understand, but I sort o' hate to see things go this way. Willimack, they call you?"
"Willimack is my name."
"All right. Been guiding this party on a prospecting tour, so tew speak?"
"We have been exploring," said the elder Floyd.
"See any Injin signs?" asked Seth.
"A great many," replied the old man. "What of that? The Indians are friendly now."
"Glad to hear it, 'cause I didn't know it. So this man Willimack lost his way?"
"Yes."
"Youngster," said the Yankee, leaping off the barrel, "you come here a minnit. I want tew speak with yew."
Young Floyd went with the Yankee aside, followed by the suspicious glances of the savage, who would have gone aside with them, but Floyd signed to him sternly to keep back, and he obeyed, chafing inwardly.
"Look here," said Spink, when they were out of ear-shot. "They say we Yankees are a little gumptious, an' I guess we be, but, it don't need much smartness tew see threw his gilding. That Injin is a Wyandot, and knows every foot of the soil along the Wabash, and yit he loses his way! Now, does that sound nat'ral? I only ask yew fair."
"It does look strange."
"Then put up yure gate. I won't tell yew why, but it'll be better for yew. Now I'll tell yew how tew prove Willimack, cuss him! Go out an' offer tew put up the gates, and yew see ef he don't huff and want tew hurry away."
"Let him go."
"Umph! No; don't dew any thing of the kind. Keep him all night, by all means."
"For what purpose?"
"Never mind. Yew will find eout, afore morning. Oh, blame my cats ef it ain't hard tew git any thing threw yew! Why don't yew go an' put up them cussed gates?"
"I will do it," said the young man, turning back quickly. "Here, Forbes, Lefebre! I want you to help me put up these gates."
Willimack started and turned upon the young man almost fiercely, for his eyes burned like glowing coals. The young soldier looked at him in surprise.
"Let my young brother pause before he puts his hands to something for which he will be sorry," said the Wyandot. "He has trusted the great tribe, and they have never deceived him, then why should he do wrong to them now? Let the gates rest. There is nothing to fear from the Shawnees and Wyandots."
"The Indians have no right to be angry if we close our doors," replied Floyd. "There are good warriors as well as bad, and some of these wicked ones might chance to pass by."
"Then the chiefs of the Shawnee would punish them," said Willimack.
"That would be but little help to us, you understand," said Floyd, "after they had taken our scalps. No, I think I will close the gates."
"Don't let him waste time talkin'. Shet 'em up now!"
"Ha, dog of the long back," screamed Willimack, "do you come to make a bad heart between the Indians and their white friends? Willimack will drink your blood."
"Ah, no yew won't," replied long Seth, with admirable composure, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and looking keenly at the savage. "Yew ain't so dry as that comes tew. Shet them gates, darn yew! I tell yew not tew lose time!"
Willimack suddenly drew his hatchet and rushed at the imperturbable Yankee, who did not even take his hands from his pockets, but, when the Indian came within reach, planted his moccasined foot in the region of the knife-belt, with a force which sent the Wyandot flying against the side of the stockade, half stunned. The elder Floyd would have helped him up, but Spink demanded of him angrily to desist, and help them to raise the gates, while the negro boys brought out the heavy bars and had them ready to drop into their places. Just as they were about to raise the first gate to its place, the Indian staggered to his feet, and turned to go away.
"Farewell, men of the bad heart," he said. "A deep sorrow has come upon the heart of Willimack. His soul is very sad, because the brother with the gray hair has turned against him."
"Oh, hush up, yew," said the Yankee, releasing his hold on the gate, "and git intew yure corner ag'in."
"No," said Willimack, "I will stay no longer in the place where I have been insulted."
"Yew won't, eh?"
"No; Willimack will go."
"I differ; Willimack will stay. Yew ain't goin' tew git eout and call yure comrades up here afore we git the gates in shape. Don't yew b'lieve it!"
"I really think you are too fast, my friend," said the elder Floyd. "The Indians have always treated me well."
"I don't care a darn how they've treated yew. That Injin ain't goin' out of this gate till it's hung; and if yew take my advice, yew'll keep him till morning, 'cause I b'lieve my soul he's got comrades outlying in them bushes."
"I will go!" screamed Willimack. "Who will stay the course of the chief of the Wyandots?"
"This identical cuss. Yew offer tew go eout of this gate, and I'll give yew a back-hander that will make yew forgit yure parents. Now yew bet yure boots on that."
Willimack was no coward, and made a rush at the immovable figure of the Yankee, knife in hand.
For the first time the ire of Seth Spink seemed to be fully aroused, and, rushing at the chief with a snarl like that of a wild beast, he caught him by the wrist, and, giving it a wrench, shook the weapon from his grasp. Then, seizing him by the shoulders, he lifted him from the ground, shook him as a terrier shakes a cat, and dashed him to the earth with stunning force.
"Bring ropes here!" he hissed. "The devil is in this condemned skunk, bigger than a woodchuck."
Will Floyd threw him some pieces of buck-skin, with which he bound the feet of the savage, and then sprung up to work upon the gate.
"Work, ye devils, work!" he shouted, applying his Herculean strength to the huge door. "Up with her, quick! How a man of yure understanding could take them gates off the hinges I don't know."
"We thought it would please the savages," said the elder Floyd. "I am afraid we are doing wrong."
"Ef yew don't sing another song in less than an hour, then I'm a nigger. Heave with a will, boys; no time to lose. It's the mercy of God that yure son blew that horn for yew tew-night, mister, or Willimack would have led yew into an ambush."
"I can hardly believe that, sir," said the old man.
"Can't yew? Take hold of that gate there. Lift away! What's that? Somebody give the son of a tinker a belt in the mouth."
Willimack, lying upon his back, had begun a succession of fearful yells, intended to hasten the movements of his friends. He was answered by a cry so close at hand that the people of the stockade were appalled by the closeness of their enemies. They worked away with desperate zeal, and with a cry of delight felt the door swing to its place and dropped the heavy bars before it. Long Seth turned in a fury upon the Indian.
"Yew ought to have yure coat tails filled chock full of boots—old boots, big boots, heavy boots, long boots, and moccasins tew match. Ef I had my way, yew'd git it, tew. Ah, yew pizen critter!"
As he spoke, they heard the sound of rushing feet, and the first of the savage band who had been lying upon the other bank of the stream, and who had crossed at dusk, rushed up against the gate and uttered loud cries of disappointment as they found it strongly barred against them. The signal of Willimack had come somewhat sooner than they expected; indeed, they had been waiting for him to lead Floyd and his soldiers into their ambush, and they were sorely disappointed when they heard his voice within the stockade. Nevertheless, they expected an easy prey, for they did not know that the acute Yankee had taken measures to have the gates put up. He answered their yells of disappointed rage by wild laughter.
"Haw! haw! haw! Didn't expect that, did yew? Now what dew yew say abeout the gates, mister?"
"I say that you have saved our lives, and we thank you," replied the old man. "I was foolish to trust a proverbially treacherous race. What do you think they will do now?"
"Kan't say," replied the Yankee. "Try tew gammon us, mebbe. It would be jest like 'em, by gosh. Neow I'm green, I allow; I'm awful green, that's a petrified trewth. But, I dew think Seth Spink is ekal in p'int of intellect to any Shawnee on the footstool, saving one man."
"And that man?"
"Tecumseh," replied Seth, shortly. "Now look here: We c'u'd hev had the good will of that man ef we was a mind tew, but we wouldn't hev it. Neow let me tell yew that he ain't no fool, the sachem ain't. Thar's wuss Ginerals in our army, tew. Let it go; we've made a mistake, and he's our inimy, I'm sorry tew say. These chaps want tew speak tew yew."
The Indians were pounding at the door of the stockade, and calling to the Floyds, under the names by which they were known to the Indians, to come out and speak to them.
"I will answer them," said Captain William. "In the mean time, load all the rifles and get out a supply of ammunition. I believe they mean to make the assault to-night, though how a dozen Indians mean to beat half that number of whites behind a strong stockade, I can not tell."
He stepped to a loophole and looked out. The warriors were grouped carelessly about the large gates, striking them with their hatchets, and making all the noise they could.
"What do you want here?" demanded Will. "Are the night-owls flying low to-night?"
"The warriors of the Shawnees would rest to-night under the roof of the Gray Hair," replied one of the braves. "Let him open his great gates, that we may enter."
"Let my brothers seek other shelter to-night," answered young Floyd. "A bird has sung in my ears to-day, warning me that the Shawnees and white men must not sleep under the same roof to-night. Shawnee braves are not children; let them rest under the bending boughs, and may they sleep well."
"Hugh!" cried the spokesman. "Does the young war-chief refuse a place under his roof to his friends?"
"We do not want any visitors to-night," replied the young man, firmly.
A chorus of angry cries arose, in the midst of which the Yankee sprung to the young man's side and whispered in his ear. He nodded gravely, and called out to the Shawnees to be silent. A hush fell upon them and he spoke again:
"I know that the Shawnees have come with malice in their hearts, and would have slain us if the gates had not been barred. Let them go back as they came, for if a single Shawnee is in sight when morning breaks, Willimack shall die."
"Would you slay the great chief of the Wyandots, the beloved of the Prophet?"
"Yes, and he deserves death a hundred times for his treachery."
"Willimack is the friend of the white man," replied the outside speaker.
"Yes, of the English," replied Seth.
"Dog of a Yengee!" shrieked a voice close at hand, "Willimack, chief of the Wyandots, laughs you to scorn."
The Yankee whirled quickly, and saw Willimack free from his bonds, standing upon the summit of the stockade. The next moment he waved his hand in derision and was gone.