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decision to be made, she made it. With her father, aboard ship, Abby had learned much of such things, and understood the necessities of command. So it was fever and chills, chills and fever. And no sooner did I start to get better than Tom Watkins was down with it. Sakim understood it well enough, for it was an illness found in many tropical lands, he said. For several days we laid up, resting, at a place called Cross Creek. It was a meeting place of many trading paths, but no Indians came while we were there, or if they did, they avoided us. Lila made a loblolly that she had learned from the Catawba, a dish made with Indian corn and dried peaches. Kane O'Hara killed a buffalo and Jeremy a deer, one of the largest I have ever seen, with a noble rack of horns. Finally we could walk about, although very weak. Each day I tried a few more footsteps. I was constantly worried about our crops, about the fort, and the worry that must beset Slater and Quill, for we had long overstayed the expected time. Then there came a day when I determined to wait no longer, but to return to our boats and proceed up the river. We began loading, packing the carrierboat carefully, then the others. We were just pushing off when four Indians came from the forest and stood looking upon us, and something in the looks of one immediately drew my attention. Page 261 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html "Potaka!" I called. He stepped into the water and waded toward me, hand outstretched. "Sackett! It is you!" The Eno laid hold of the gunwale with both hands. "Where is it you go, my friend?" "To the land of the Catawba," I replied. "We now live there, although we plan to go beyond the blue mountains." "Ah? It is ever beyond the mountains with you, Sackett. But we will come also. The Catawba are our friends." With four more rowers it was no time until we reached a point from which we could leave our boats. Once more we concealed them near the opening of a small creek where there was a reed-choked backwater, drawing them well back into the reeds and covering them with others to hide them well. Into each boat we put some water to keep the bottom boards from shrinking. Once more we shouldered our burdens and began the overland trek to the fort, a much shorter distance now due to the fact that the river we had used had taken us closer to Catawba country. On the first night out Potaka came to me, much disturbed. "Many warrior come this way," he said. "Who?" "Tuscarora ... maybe thirty mans ... no woman, no child." A war party then ... headed toward the Catawba, toward our fort. "When?" "Four days ... I think. Maybe three days." It was bad news. Traveling at the speed with which a war party could travel they must have arrived in the fort area as much as two days ago. The four Eno scattered out and went through the woods. They could fight and Page 262 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html would fight, but they were no such warriors as either the Tuscarora or the Catawba. When they returned they reported no sign of Indians. We moved on, traveling more swiftly. My strength was returning, and Black Tom Watkins could walk once more, yet neither he nor Fitch were well men, and we had to move warily so as not to be surprised by the returning party. Desperately, I wished to forge ahead, but dared not leave my family at such a time. We kept close, with Enos out ahead and behind. The months had made me into a woodsman, more so than ever I have been, and Jeremy also. The gay young blade whom I had first met at the down-at-heel inn in London now wore buckskins. The hat with the plume had been put aside for another hat, and he wore moccasins instead of boots. Kane also, had become the complete woodsman, and the others to a degree. Suddenly we broke out of the woods and the fort lay before us, charred by fire, but standing. "Kane? Barry? Stay with my wife." Pim, Jeremy, Glasco, and I moved out in a wide skirmish line, our muskets ready. Sakim and Peter brought up the rear, and the Indians scattered wide on our flanks. There was no sound from the fort. No hail from the walls, no welcoming smoke ... only silence and the wind. The grass bent before it, the leaves stirred upon the trees. Each step I took brought me nearer ... to what? The gate of the fort stood open, the bar lay on the ground inside. My eyes searched the battlements but nothing moved. We moved toward the gate. "Sakim? Fitch? Stay outside. Watch the woods. I am going in. "Pim, after a minute, come in ... and you, Tom." Musket ready for a sudden shot, I stepped inside. All was still. No sound Page 263 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html disturbed the fading afternoon, and then, at the door of our cabin, a body. Scalped ... and dead. Several days dead, but the weather had been cool. It was Matt Slater. Matt Slater, who so loved the land, and who had, at last, wide acres of his own. A square mile of forest, meadow and fields traded for a plot, six by three. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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