Hugh Pendexter

“ It’s a white voice.”
“It’s all right after we look him over,” growled Kinsty. “Stranger, whoever you be, show yourself. Both hands up and empty.”
A man stepped into the path between the two men, his arms raised, one holding a long Kentucky rifle. He said: “Here I be. Had to fetch the old gun along. Think I was red?”
“I knew you was white. But keep your hands up. Knight, lift up his hunting-shirt so we can have a peek at his back.”
Knight stared stupidly. The man good-naturedly requested: “Don’t waste time. This gun’s gitting heavy.” Then to Kinsty, “Just what you looking for, mister?” ”

“ Ho! They say a chief runs back whipped from a red path. They say he throws away his warriors like a foolish man. Has a wolf stepped over his gun and spoiled his medicine? His young men break away and bring two scalps. Where are the scalps Little Beaver has taken?”
The chief stared at him ferociously. A man near-by reached forward and struck him across the mouth.
Bryant philosophically remarked:
“Well, it didn’t work that time. Mebbe next time.”
A man brought water in a kettle and held it up for Knight to drink, but gave the old man none. ”

“ Waving the torch to keep it alive he strode to the edge of the growth. Knight followed, the rifle cocked. Swinging the torch down in a half circle the man invited, “Take a look. What d’ye see?”
The two had torn the clothing almost from each other in their desperate fight. Kinsty, with his hunting-shirt ripped from hem to collar, was lying on his face. A red stripe extended the length of his spine.
Straightening up the man continued:
“Knew him the second I see him. But he didn’t know me. He’s one of Little Beaver’s white Injuns. He’s Greeby.” ”

“ What with Greeby and the Girtys and the Shawnees, the station is fair beset.”
“If they ain’t strongly forted he shouldn’t go there,” said Kinsty.
“They can stand off the Injuns if white renegades don’t lend a hand and play some new deviltry. If Gineral Sinclair ’arned a lesson from Gineral Harmar’s defeat last year we’ll have peace along this river. If he gits a red ax in the head it’ll keep on being death to any one planting corn north of this river. And I’m afraid for Sinclair. Little Turtle and his Miamis are ag’in him as they was ag’in Harmar,” said Daniels. ”

“ A poor, helpless man in need of a friend. Why do we halt? I have many hours of energy left in me if there’s a safe bed at the end of the journey.”
“You think so but you’d go kerflummox first thing you know. You got to have victuals. We can’t git through tonight anyway. We’ll camp here off the trail and I’ll shoot something and make a soup. With a full stomach and some sound sleep you’ll go through to Massie’s mighty fine.”
“If you think best,” sighed Knight. “How far is it to the station?”
“Twenty miles,” replied Kinsty. ”

“ He thought it out and made his decision inside a few seconds of deliberation. The very idea of attempting to do something gave him physical strength. He advanced toward the kettles. Little Beaver followed and overtook him as he halted as if waiting for his breakfast. ”

“ One of his guards released the thong and Knight rubbed his hands and wrists smartly. As he did this he looked for a possible avenue of escape.
The Indians’ guns were resting against a pole which was supported by two crotched sticks. If he attempted to run in that direction he would find but few between him and the timber, as almost all the men were around the kettle. But pursuit would be made by the warriors near the guns, which they could snatch up and use with deadly effect before he could reach cover. ”

“ Knight patiently answered the queries, as he had learned this was a characteristic of isolated people. The first four questions a traveler would be asked at a frontier cabin would be: “What’s your name? Where you from? Where you going? What’s your business?”
Knight talked until weary, and finally complained:
“Can’t we push forward faster? Seems like we was holding back.”
“No hurry so long’s we got to make one camp. Can’t do it on a stretch. Least-ways, you can’t. Won’t do to git tuckered out. You must be good for a long run if jumped by Injuns. ”

“ Poor Bryant told me. Chief has red stripe up and down his back.”
“That’s Little Beaver. All his men have red stripes till they quit his band. My name’s Kinsty. I’d like to obleege you. Too much risk. If Little Beaver is on your trail he’d cross into Kentucky quicker’n scat to overhaul you.”
“Good heavens! You’re a white man. You don’t refuse to help me?” pleaded Knight.
“I’m just saying I ain’t going to cross to t’other shore and run the risk of having a Wyandot or Shawnee ax sunk in my head. There’s a better way. Twenty-five miles down stream, by the Injun path, is Massie’s Station. ”

“ Wish I could eat and sleep and cross into Kentucky and make back to Richmond. I’m mortal tired of the border.”
“Make a fire and I’ll fetch in some small game,” said Daniels. “After we’ve et and rested we’ll see what fits the young man’s case best.”
He slipped into the growth and Kinsty scooped a shallow hole one side of the path and started a small blaze, feeding it with small pieces of bark until he had a deep bed of coals. Daniels came in with a turkey and some pigeons. He had knocked them over with his ax. The meat was quickly put to roasting.
Knight discovered he was ravenously hungry. ”

“ The women folks would be mad if a prisoner wasn’t fetched in. Here they come. Keep a bold face.”
Two men briskly advanced bearing a bowl taken from some settler’s cabin. This was filled with a rough paste made from charcoal and water. The other Wyandots gathered around to witness the ceremony. A man released Bryant’s legs and jerked him roughly to his feet.
The old man belligerently demanded:
“Are you women to be afraid of a man about to talk with ghosts? Untie my hands. You are young and foolish men. You do not know how to paint a man who will do you great honor by the way he will die. ”