<SPAN name="c1"></SPAN>
<H2 ALIGN="CENTER">CHAPTER I.</h2>
<H3 ALIGN="CENTER">A FRONTIER FARM.</h3>
<p>"Concord, March 1, 1774.
<p>"MY DEAR COUSIN: I am leaving next week with my husband for England,
where we intend to pass some time visiting his friends. John and I
have determined to accept the invitation you gave us last summer for
Harold to come and spend a few months with you. His father thinks
that a great future will, ere many years, open in the West, and that
it is therefore well the boy should learn something of frontier life.
For myself, I would rather that he stayed quietly at home, for he is
at present over-fond of adventure; but as my husband is meditating
selling his estate here and moving West, it is perhaps better for him.
<p>"Massachusetts is in a ferment, as indeed are all the Eastern States,
and the people talk openly of armed resistance against the
Government. My husband, being of English birth and having served in
the king's army, cannot brook what he calls the rebellious talk which
is common among his neighbors, and is already on bad terms with many
around us. I myself am, as it were, a neutral. As an American woman,
it seems to me that the colonists have been dealt with somewhat
hardly by the English Parliament, and that the measures of the latter
have been high-handed and arbitrary. Upon the other hand, I naturally
incline toward my husband's views. He maintains that, as the king's
army has driven out the French, and gives protection to the colony,
it is only fair that the colonists should contribute to its expenses.
The English ask for no contributions toward the expense of their own
country, but demand that, at least, the expenses of the protection of
the colony shall not be charged upon the heavily taxed people at
home. As to the law that the colony shall trade only with the mother
country, my husband says that this is the rule in the colonies of
Spain, France, Portugal, and the Netherlands, and that the people
here, who can obtain what land they choose and till it without rent,
should not grumble at paying this small tax to the mother country.
However it be, I fear that troubles will come, and, this place being
the head and focus of the party hostile to England, my husband,
feeling himself out of accord with all his neighbors, saying a few
loyal gentlemen like himself, is thinking much and seriously of
selling our estate here and of moving away into the new countries of
the West, where he will be free from all the disputation and
contentious talk which occupies men's time here.
<p>"Indeed, cousin, times have sadly changed since you were staying here
with us five years ago. Then our life was a peaceful and quiet one;
now there is nothing but wrangling and strife. The dissenting clergy
are, as my husband says was the case in England before the great
civil war, the fomenters of this discontent. There are many
busybodies who pass their time in stirring up the people by violent
harangues and seditious writings; therefore everyone takes one side
or the other, and there is neither peace nor comfort in life.
<p>"Accustomed as I have always been to living in ease and affluence, I
dread, somewhat, the thought of a life on the Indian frontier. One
has heard so many dreadful stories of Indian fights and massacres
that I tremble a little at the prospect; but I do not mention this to
John, for as other women are, like yourself, brave enough to support
these dangers, I would not appear a coward in his eyes. You will see,
cousin, that, as this prospect is before us, it is well that Harold
should learn the ways of a frontier life. Moreover, John does not
like the thought of leaving him here while we are in England; for, as
he says, the boy might learn to become a rebel in his absence;
therefore, my dear cousin, we have resolved to send him to you. An
opportunity offers, in the fact that a gentleman of our acquaintance
is, with his family, going this week West, with the intention of
settling there, and he will, he tells us, go first to Detroit, whence
he will be able to send Harold forward to your farm. The boy himself
is delighted at the thought, and promises to return an accomplished
backwoodsman. John joins me in kind love to yourself and your
husband, and believe me to remain,
<p>"Your Affectionate Cousin,
<p>"MARY WILSON."</p>
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<p>Four months after the date of the above letter a lad some fifteen
years old was walking with a man of middle age on the shores of Lake
Huron. Behind them was a large clearing of about a hundred acres in
extent; a comfortable house, with buildings for cattle, stood at a
distance of some three hundred yards from the lake; broad fields of
yellow corn waved brightly in the sun; and from the edge of the
clearing came the sound of a woodsman's ax, showing that the
proprietor was still enlarging the limits of his farm. Surrounding
the house, at a distance of twenty yards, was a strong stockade some
seven feet in height, formed of young trees, pointed at the upper
end, squared, and fixed firmly in the ground. The house itself,
although far more spacious and comfortable than the majority of
backwood farmhouses, was built in the usual fashion, of solid logs,
and was evidently designed to resist attack.
<p>William Welch had settled ten years before on this spot, which was
then far removed from the nearest habitation. It would have been a
very imprudent act, under ordinary circumstances, to have established
himself in so lonely a position, so far removed from the possibility
of assistance in case of attack. He settled there, however, just
after Pontiac, who was at the head of an alliance of all the Indian
tribes of those parts, had, after the long and desperate siege of
Fort Pitt, made peace with us upon finding that his friends, the
French, had given up all thought of further resistance to the
English, and had entirely abandoned the country. Mr. Welch thought,
therefore, that a permanent peace was likely to reign on the
frontier, and that he might safely establish himself in the charming
location he had pitched upon, far removed from the confines of
civilization.
<p>The spot was a natural clearing of some forty acres in extent,
sloping down to the water's edge, and a more charming site could
hardly have been chosen. Mr. Welch had brought with him three farm
laborers from the East, and, as time went on, he extended the
clearing by cutting down the forest giants which bordered it.
<p>But in spite of the beauty of the position, the fertility of the
soil, the abundance of his crops, and the advantages afforded by the
lake, both from its plentiful supply of fish and as a highway by
which he could convey his produce to market, he had more than once
regretted his choice of location. It was true that there had been no
Indian wars on a large scale, but the Indians had several times
broken out in sudden incursions. Three times he had been attacked,
but, fortunately, only by small parties, which he had been enabled to
beat off. Once, when a more serious danger threatened him, he had
been obliged to embark, with his wife and child and his more valuable
chattels, in the great scow in which he carried his produce to
market, and had to take refuge in the settlements, to find, on his
return, his buildings destroyed and his farm wasted. At that time he
had serious thoughts of abandoning his location altogether, but the
settlements were extending rapidly toward him, and, with the prospect
of having neighbors before long and the natural reluctance to give up
a place upon which he had expended so much toil, he decided to hold
on; hoping that more quiet times would prevail, until other settlers
would take up land around him.
<p>The house had been rebuilt more strongly than before. He now employed
four men, and had been unmolested since his return to his farm, three
years before the date of this story. Already two or three locations
had been taken up on the shores of the lake beyond him, a village had
grown up thirty-five miles away, and several settlers had established
themselves between that place and his home.
<p>"So you are going out fishing this morning, Harold?" Mr. Welch said.
"I hope you will bring back a good supply, for the larder is low. I
was looking at you yesterday, and I see that you are becoming a
first-rate hand at the management of a canoe."
<p>"So I ought to be," the boy said, "considering that for nearly three
months I have done nothing but shoot and fish."
<p>"You have a sharp eye, Harold, and will make a good backwoodsman one
of these days. You can shoot nearly as well as I can now. It is lucky
that I had a good stock of powder and lead on hand; firing away by
the hour together, as you do, consumes a large amount of ammunition.
See, there is a canoe on the lake; it is coming this way, too. There
is but one man in it; he is a white, by his clothes."
<p>For a minute or two they stood watching the boat, and then, seeing
that its course was directed toward the shore, they walked down to
the edge of the lake to meet it.
<p>"Ah, Pearson! is that you?" Mr. Welch asked. "I thought I knew your
long, sweeping stroke at a distance. You have been hunting, I see;
that is a fine stag you have got there. What is the news?"
<p>"About as bad as can be, Master Welch," the hunter said. "The
Iroquois have dug up the tomahawk again and are out on the war-path.
They have massacred John Brent and his family. I heard a talk of it
among some hunters I met ten days since in the woods. They said that
the Iroquois were restless and that their chief, War Eagle, one of
the most troublesome varmints on the whole frontier, had been
stirring 'em up to war. He told 'em, I heard, that the pale-faces
were pushing further and further into the Injun woods, and that,
unless they drove 'em back, the redskin hunting grounds would be
gone. I hoped that nothing would come of it, but I might have known
better. When the redskins begin to stir there's sure to be mischief
before they're quiet again."
<p>The color had somewhat left Mr. Welch's cheeks as the hunter spoke.
<p>"This is bad news, indeed, Pearson," he said gravely. "Are you sure
about the attack on the Brents?"
<p>"Sartin sure," the hunter said. "I met their herder; he had been down
to Johnson's to fetch a barrel of pork. Just when he got back he
heard the Injun yells and saw smoke rising in the clearing, so he
dropped the barrel and made tracks. I met him at Johnson's, where he
had just arrived. Johnson was packing up with all haste and was going
to leave, and so I said I would take my canoe and come down the lake,
giving you all warning on the way. I stopped at Burns' and Hooper's.
Burns said he should clear out at once, but Hooper talked about
seeing it through. He's got no wife to be skeary about, and reckoned
that, with his two hands, he could defend his log hut. I told him I
reckoned he would get his har raised if the Injuns came that way;
but, in course, that's his business."
<p>"What do you advise, Pearson? I do not like abandoning this farm to
the mercy of the redskins."
<p>"It would be a pity, Master Welch, that's as true as Gospel. It's the
likeliest clearing within fifty miles round, and you've fixed the
place up as snug and comfortable as if it were a farm in the old
provinces. In course the question is what this War Eagle intends to
do. His section of the tribe is pretty considerable strong, and
although at present I aint heard that any others have joined, these
Injuns are like barrels of gunpowder: when the spark is once struck
there's no saying how far the explosion may spread. When one band of
'em sees as how another is taking scalps and getting plunder and
honor, they all want to be at the same work. I reckon War Eagle has
got some two hundred braves who will follow him; but when the news
spreads that he has begun his work, all the Iroquois, to say nothing
of the Shawnees, Delawares, and other varmint, may dig up the
hatchet. The question is what War Eagle's intentions are. He may make
a clean sweep down, attacking all the outlying farms and waiting till
he is joined by a lot more of the red reptiles before attacking the
settlements. Then, on the other hand, he may think himself strong
enough to strike a blow at Gloucester and some other border villages
at once. In that case he might leave the outlying farms alone, as the
news of the burning of these would reach the settlements and put 'em
on their guard, and he knows, in course, that if he succeeds there he
can eat you all up at his leisure."
<p>"The attack upon Brent's place looks as if he meant to make a clean
sweep down," Mr. Welch said.
<p>"Well," the hunter continued thoughtfully, "I don't know as I sees it
in that light. Brent's place was a long way from any other. He might
have wished to give his band a taste of blood, and so raise their
spirits, and he might reasonably conclude that naught would be known
about it for days, perhaps weeks to come. Then, again, the attack
might have been made by some straggling party without orders. It's a
dubious question. You've got four hands here, I think, and yourself.
I have seen your wife shoot pretty straight with a rifle, so she can
count as one, and as this young un, here, has a good idea, too, with
his shooting-iron, that makes six guns. Your place is a strong one,
and you could beat off any straggling party. My idea is that War
Eagle, who knows pretty well that the place would make a stout fight,
won't waste his time by making a regular attack upon it. You might
hold out for twenty-four hours; the clearing is open and there aint
no shelter to be had. He would be safe to lose a sight of men, and
this would be a bad beginning, and would discourage his warriors
greatly. No, I reckon War Eagle will leave you alone for the present.
Maybe he will send a scout to see whether you are prepared; it's as
likely as not that one is spying at us somewhere among the trees now.
I should lose no time in driving in the animals and getting well in
shelter. When they see you are prepared they will leave you alone; at
least, for the present. Afterward there's no saying—that will depend
on how they get on at the settlements. If they succeed there and get
lots of booty and plenty of scalps, they may march back without
touching you; they will be in a hurry to get to their villages and
have their feasts and dancing. If they are beaten off at the
settlements I reckon they will pay you a visit for sure; they won't
go back without scalps. They will be savage like, and won't mind
losing some men for the sake of having something to brag about when
they get back. And now, Master Welch, I must be going on, for I want
to take the news down to the settlements before War Eagle gets there,
and he may be ahead of me now, for aught I know. I don't give you no
advice as to what you had best do; you can judge the circumstances as
well as I can. When I have been to the settlements and put them on
their guard, maybe I shall be coming back again, and, in that case,
you know Jack Pearson's rifle is at your disposal. You may as well
tote this stag up to the house. You won't be doing much hunting just
for the present, and the meat may come in handy."
<p>The stag was landed, and a minute later the canoe shot away from
shore under the steady stroke of the hunter's powerful arms. Mr.
Welch at once threw the stag over his shoulders and, accompanied by
Harold, strode away toward the house. On reaching it he threw down
the stag at the door, seized a rope which hung against the wall, and
the sounds of a large bell, rung in quick, sharp strokes, summoned
the hands from the fields. The sound of the woodman's ax ceased at
once, and the shouts of the men, as they drove the cattle toward the
house, rose on the still air.
<p>"What is the matter, William?" Mrs. Welch asked as she ran from the
house.
<p>"I have bad news, my dear. The Indians are out again, and I fear we
may have trouble before us. We must hope that they will not come in
this direction, but must be prepared for the worst. Wait till I see
all the hands and beasts in the stockade, and then we can talk the
matter over quietly."
<p>In a few minutes the hands arrived, driving before them the horses
and cattle.
<p>"What is it, boss?" they asked. "Was that the alarm bell sure
enough?"
<p>"The Indians are out again," Mr. Welch said, "and in force. They have
massacred the Brents and are making toward the settlements. They may
come this way or they may not; at any rate, we must be prepared for
them. Get the beasts into the sheds, and then do you all take scythes
and set to work to cut down that patch of corn, which is high enough
to give them shelter; there's nothing else which will cover them
within a hundred yards of the house. Of course you will take your
rifles with you and keep a sharp lookout; but they will have heard
the bell, if they are in the neighborhood, and will guess that we
are on the alert, so they are not likely to attempt a surprise. Shut
one of the gates and leave the other ajar, with the bar handy to put
up in case you have to make a run for it. Harold will go up to the
lookout while you are at work."
<p>Having seen that all was attended to, Mr. Welch went into the house,
where his wife was going about her work as usual, pale, but quiet and
resolute.
<p>"Now, Jane," he said, "sit down, and I will tell you exactly how
matters stand, as far as Pearson, who brought the news, has told me.
Then you shall decide as to the course we had better take."
<p>After he had told her all that Pearson had said, and the reasons for
and against expecting an early attack, he went on:
<p>"Now, it remains for you, my dear, to decide whether we shall stay
and defend the place till the last against any attack that may be
made, or whether we shall at once embark in the scow and make our way
down to the settlements."
<p>"What do you think, William?" his wife asked.
<p>"I scarcely know, myself," he answered; "but, if I had quite my own
way, I should send you and Nelly down to the settlements in the scow
and fight it out here with the hands."
<p>"You certainly will not have your own way in that," his wife said.
"If you go of course I go; if you stay I stay. I would a thousand
times rather go through a siege here, and risk the worst, than go
down to Gloucester and have the frightful anxiety of not knowing what
was happening here. Besides, it is very possible, as you say, that
the Indians may attack the settlement itself. Many of the people
there have had no experience in Indian war, and the redskins are
likely to be far more successful in their surprise there than they
would be here. If we go we should have to leave our house, our barns,
our stacks, and our animals to the mercy of the savages. Your capital
is pretty nearly all embarked here now, and the loss of all this
would be ruin to us. At any rate, William, I am ready to stay here
and to risk what may come if you are. A life on the frontier is
necessarily a life of danger, and if we are to abandon everything and
to have to commence life afresh every time the Indians go on the
war-path, we had better give it up at once and return to
Massachusetts."
<p>"Very well, my dear," her husband said gravely. "You are a true
frontiersman's wife; you have chosen as I should have done. It is a
choice of evils; but God has blessed and protected us since we came
out into the wilderness—we will trust and confide in him now. At any
rate," he went on more cheerfully, "there is no fear of the enemy
starving us out. We got in our store of provisions only a fortnight
since, and have enough of everything for a three-months' siege. There
is no fear of our well failing us; and as for ammunition, we have
abundance. Seeing how Harold was using powder and ball, I had an
extra supply when the stores came in the other day. There is plenty
of corn in the barn for the animals for months, and I will have the
corn which the men are cutting brought in as a supply of food for the
cows. It will be useful for another purpose, too; we will keep a heap
of it soaked with water and will cover the shingles with it in case
of attack. It will effectually quench their fire arrows."
<p>The day passed off without the slightest alarm, and by nightfall the
patch of corn was cleared away and an uninterrupted view of the
ground for the distance of a hundred yards from the house was
afforded. When night fell two out of the four dogs belonging to the
farm were fastened out in the open, at a distance of from seventy to
eighty yards of the house, the others being retained within the
stockade. The garrison was divided into three watches, two men being
on the alert at a time, relieving each other every three hours. Mr.
Welch took Harold as his companion on the watch. The boy was greatly
excited at the prospect of a struggle. He had often read of the
desperate fights between the frontier settlers and the Indians, and
had longed to take a share in the adventurous work. He could scarcely
believe that the time had come and that he was really a sharer in
what might be a desperate struggle.
<p>The first watch was set at nine, and at twelve Mr. Welch and Harold
came on duty. The men they relieved reported that all was silent in
the woods, and that they had heard no suspicious cries of any kind.
When the men had returned to their room Mr. Welch told Harold that he
should take a turn round the stockade and visit the dogs. Harold was
to keep watch at the gate, to close it after he went out, to put up
the bar, and to stand beside it ready to open it instantly if called
upon.
<p>Then the farmer stepped out into the darkness and, treading
noiselessly, at once disappeared from Harold's sight. The latter
closed the gate, replaced the heavy bar, and stood with one hand on
this and the other holding his rifle, listening intently. Once he
thought he heard a low growling from one of the dogs, but this
presently ceased, and all was quiet again. The gate was a solid one,
formed of strong timbers placed at a few inches apart and bolted to
horizontal bars.
<p>Presently he felt the gate upon which his hand rested quiver, as if
pressure was applied from without. His first impulse was to say, "Is
that you?" but Mr. Welch had told him that he would give a low
whistle as he approached the gate; he therefore stood quiet, with his
whole attention absorbed in listening. Without making the least stir
he peered through the bars and made out two dark figures behind them.
After once or twice shaking the gate, one took his place against it
and the other sprang upon his shoulders.
<p>Harold looked up and saw a man's head appear against the sky. Dim as
was the light, he could see that it was no European head-gear, a long
feather or two projecting from it. In an instant he leveled his rifle
and fired. There was a heavy fall and then all was silent. Harold
again peered through the bars. The second figure had disappeared, and
a black mass lay at the foot of the gate.
<p>In an instant the men came running from the house, rifles in hand.
<p>"What is it?" they exclaimed. "Where is Mr. Welch?"
<p>"He went out to scout round the house, leaving me at the gate,"
Harold said. "Two men, I think Indians, came up; one was getting over
the gate when I shot him. I think he is lying outside—the other has
disappeared."
<p>"We must get the master in," one of the men said. "He is probably
keeping away, not knowing what has happened. Mr. Welch," he shouted,
"it is all safe here, so far as we know; we are all on the lookout to
cover you as you come up."
<p>Immediately a whistle was heard close to the gate. This was
cautiously opened a few inches, and was closed and barred directly
Mr. Welch entered.
<p>Harold told him what had happened.
<p>"I thought it was something of the sort. I heard Wolf growl and felt
sure that it was not at me. I threw myself down and crept up to him
and found him shot through the heart with an Indian arrow. I was
crawling back to the house when I heard Harold's shot. Then I waited
to see if it was followed by the war-whoop, which the redskins would
have raised at once, on finding that they were discovered, had they
been about to attack in force. Seeing that all was quiet, I
conjectured that it was probably an attempt on the part of a spy to
discover if we were upon the alert. Then I heard your call and at
once came on. I do not expect any attack to-night now, as these
fellows must have been alone; but we will all keep watch till the
morning. You have done very well, Harold, and have shown yourself a
keen watchman. It is fortunate that you had the presence of mind
neither to stir nor to call out when you first heard them; for, had
you done so, you would probably have got an arrow between your ribs,
as poor Wolf has done."
<p>When it was daylight, and the gate was opened, the body of an Indian
was seen lying without; a small mark on his forehead showed where
Harold's bullet had entered; death being instantaneous. His war-paint
and the embroidery of his leggings showed him at once to be an
Iroquois. Beside him lay his bow, with an arrow which had evidently
been fitted to the string for instant work. Harold shuddered when he
saw it and congratulated himself on having stood perfectly quiet. A
grave was dug a short distance away, the Indian was buried, and the
household proceeded about their work.
<p>The day, as was usual in households in America, was begun with
prayer, and the supplications of Mr. Welch for the protection of God
over the household were warm and earnest. The men proceeded to feed
the animals; these were then turned out of the inclosure, one of the
party being always on watch in the little tower which they had
erected for that purpose some ten or twelve feet above the roof of
the house. From this spot a view was obtainable right over the
clearing to the forest which surrounded it on three sides. The other
hands proceeded to cut down more of the corn, so as to extend the
level space around the house.
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