that it was McGable himself who acted the part of a decoy, raised his rifle with the intention of shooting him; but the wily demon was too quick for him. He suspected something, and secreted himself before Mansfield could secure his aim. The latter, however, fired, and came so uncomfortably close, that the decoy ceased his entreaties, and, by way of a return for the compliment, a whole volley was fired at the flat-boat by the concealed savages. Some of the bullets struck the boat and the others whistled overhead, but they did no further damage.
The settlement, which was the destination of our friends, was a few miles further down the river, and they came in sight of it about the middle of the afternoon. As Peterson had given the settlers notice of their coming, they were expected and joyfully welcomed. The flat-boat was swept into shore and fastened, and, with the aid of the willing settlers, its contents removed in an incredibly short space of time. The boat itself was then hauled as far up the bank as possible, and taken carefully apart, and its timbers preserved for building purposes.
As this village is to be the location of many of the succeeding incidents of our story, we will here briefly describe it, and then hasten forward to the incidents that follow.
The settlement consisted of about twenty cabins, and numbered a hundred inhabitants. A small block-house was erected near the lower end of the village for immediate refuge in case of sudden attack; but the governor of the territory had ordered a large one to be erected and continually manned by men well-skilled in border warfare. This block-house was erected in advance of the settlement itself, so as to better guard the approach of an enemy. It stood in a broad clearing, protected on the one hand by a marshy swamp, and the other by the Ohio river. The block-house consisted of two stories. The lower one was about thirty feet square, and the upper thirty-three, so that it projected over the lower, giving those within an opportunity of defending the door and windows, in case a determined attack was made. A well had been sunk in one corner, so that if besieged they could not be brought to terms by thirst. The roof was so steeply-shelving as to prevent any burning missiles from remaining upon it, and the planks themselves were so smooth-shaven that the most agile savage could not maintain a position upon it for an instant. The sides were built of solid green logs of some eighteen or twenty inches in diameter, dove-tailed at the ends in the usual manner, and the interstices filled in with mortar. The doors and windows and shutters were bars of ponderous puncheons, secured by massive bars of wood on the inside. The upper part of the house was pierced with numerous loop-holes, through which a large force could keep up a constant fire upon their assailants.
The block-house was surrounded by a substantial wall of palisades. These were made by cutting trees of a foot in diameter into pieces fifteen feet in length. These pieces were then quartered, hewed off sharply at one end, and driven four feet into the solid ground, leaving eleven feet above. The palisades were kept firmly in their places by means of stout braces and wall-pieces upon the inside; and, as they were set with their smooth side outward, and close together, no force could scale them without the aid of ladders.
A flagstaff stood a few feet from the block-house, and the stars and stripes ever waved from the summit. At the second story was a projection, facing the forest, upon which the sentinel passed most of his time while on duty, and which supported a swivel, so hung that it could be brought to bear upon almost any point from which danger was to be apprehended.
This fort was quite a celebrated one, and being manned by the governor with an active force, was much resorted to by the scouts and rangers along the frontiers. Dick Dingle was enrolled as a member of this company, although the governor and the commander of the fort knew there was no use of undertaking to bring any such character under discipline. He was allowed to go and come when he pleased, and it may be said, in fact, that the whole class of frontier rangers were a set of Border Zouaves. They were ever in the most perilous situations, did the most dangerous service, and acknowledged no leader other than their own free will. The commander, with several of his leading men, had served in the capacity of rangers, and were all adepts in Indian warfare.
It was the duty of Dingle to range through the adjoining country, to keep a constant watch upon the movements of the Indians, and to return as often as possible with his report to the commander. At this time there were other scouts performing similar duties in other situations, who have since become celebrated in history. McArthur, White, McCleland, and Davis, and the Whetzel brothers are the ones to whom we refer. They occasionally visited the fort singly, but never in company, and sometimes remained several days in conversation and feasting with their friends.
Peterson, upon his return with Dingle, had had his name enrolled as a member of the company at the block-house; and they had already made several excursions in company. When Abbot and his friends arrived at the settlement, these two scouts had just returned from a journey up the Sciota valley to one of the Shawnee towns. The genial settlers, having known of the coming of their new friends, showed their good-will by erecting several cabins and presenting them to the new-comers immediately upon their arrival. By dusk, Abbot, with his wife and Mansfield, were snugly domiciled in theirs, and ready to join their neighbors, on the morrow, in clearing the forest, breaking the ground, or whatever their duty might chance to be.
Although Abbot had not seen Peterson, he had heard that he was in the settlement, and sent for him in the evening. The good-hearted fellow had purposely kept out of the way, for fear that his presence would be painful to them, but upon hearing the wish of Abbot, he immediately went to his house.
The meeting could not be but painful upon both sides. There was a manifest restraint about the ranger, for he well knew the feelings that must be awakened by his presence. The conversation turned upon ordinary subjects, and each carefully refrained from any allusion that might bring up the matter that was in the mind of every one.
In the course of a half hour or so, the quick eye of Mrs. Abbot saw her presence was a restraint upon something her husband wished to say; and she made an excuse for withdrawing and retiring for the night.
After she had gone, the conversation continued a short time as usual, and then, as it sometimes will, it suddenly came to a dead pause. Utter silence fell upon all.
"Jim," said Abbot, glancing furtively around to assure himself that his wife was not within hearing, "Jim, I must once more speak about that."
"Wal?" queried the ranger, uneasily.
"I must ask you once more to narrate, as particularly as is in your power, the account of the attack upon the flat-boat, and the death of Marian. I will not ask you to give anything else but that alone."
"I dunno as I can tell anything more, but, howsumever, I can tell that over again if you want it," and thereupon he proceeded to give with fearful vividness, the dying-words and actions of Marian Abbot. The father heard him all through, without a syllable of interruption, keeping his lips compressed, his brow knit, and his eye fixed upon the smoldering fire before him.
"You think, Jim, then, that she is – she must be dead?" he inquired.
"Why, Abbot, 'sposen I had fifty bullets right smack through this h'yer noddle of mine, and you should ax me if I had any s'pishions I'd survive, and I should tell you I was as dead as a door nail, wouldn't you believe me?"
"Of course."
"Wal, then, though I'm sorry to say it, there ain't a bit more hope for her. She never seed the devils that climbed over the boat. She died afore I got twenty feet from the boat."
"You are certain of it?"
"Yes, sir; I'm certain."
"You must wonder at my talking thus, Jim; but I have no hopes either; I have given her up long since. I have still one wish – to know what fate attended her body."
"I can tell you that."
"What was it?"
"She was thrown overboard with the others."
"You did not see that done, Jim, and cannot be sure of it."
The ranger was about to contradict him, and tell that he had followed the murderers and seen that they bore no body with them; but he did not, and Abbot continued.
"It is this doubt – this uncertainty that still troubles me. When that has been cleared up I shall never speak of the subject again. Russel has told me that