The Crossing [70]
to put down my hand into the wallet of his shirt, where I would find a choice morsel which he had saved for his supper. Sometimes I trotted beside the Colonel himself, listening as he talked to this man or that, and thus I got the gravest notion of the daring of this undertaking, and of the dangers ahead of us. This north country was infested with Indians, allies of the English and friends of the French their subjects; and the fact was never for an instant absent from our minds that our little band might at any moment run into a thousand warriors, be overpowered and massacred; or, worst of all, that our coming might have been heralded to Kaskaskia.
For three days we marched in the green shade of the primeval wood, nor saw the sky save in blue patches here and there. Again we toiled for hours through the coffee- colored waters of the swamps. But the third day brought us to the first of those strange clearings which the French call prairies, where the long grass ripples like a lake in the summer wind. Here we first knew raging thirst, and longed for the loam-specked water we had scorned, as our tired feet tore through the grass. For Saunders, our guide, took a line across the open in plain sight of any eye that might be watching from the forest cover. But at length our column wavered and halted by reason of some disturbance at the head of it. Conjectures in our company, the rear guard, became rife at once.
``Run, Davy darlin,' an' see what the throuble is,'' said Terence.
Nothing loath, I made my way to the head of the column, where Bowman's company had broken ranks and stood in a ring up to their thighs in the grass. In the centre of the ring, standing on one foot before our angry Colonel, was Saunders.
``Now, what does this mean?'' demanded Clark; ``my eye is on you, and you've boxed the compass in this last hour.''
Saunders' jaw dropped.
``I'm guiding you right,'' he answered, with that sullenness which comes to his kind from fear, ``but a man will slip his bearings sometimes in this country.''
Clark's eyes shot fire, and he brought down the stock of his rifle with a thud.
``By the eternal God!'' he cried, ``I believe you are a traitor. I've been watching you every step, and you've acted strangely this morning.''
``Ay, ay,'' came from the men round him.
``Silence!'' cried Clark, and turned again to the cowering Saunders. ``You pretend to know the way to Kaskaskia, you bring us to the middle of the Indian country where we may be wiped out at any time, and now you have the damned effrontery to tell me that you have lost your way. I am a man of my word,'' he added with a vibrant intensity, and pointed to the limbs of a giant tree which stood at the edge of the distant forest. ``I will give you half an hour, but as I live, I will leave you hanging there.''
The man's brown hand trembled as he clutched his rifle barrel.
`` 'Tis a hard country, sir,'' he said. ``I'm lost. I swear it on the evangels.''
``A hard country!'' cried Clark. ``A man would have to walk over it but once to know it. I believe you are a damned traitor and perjurer,--in spite of your oath, a British spy.
Saunders wiped the sweat from his brow on his buckskin sleeve.
``I reckon I could get the trace, Colonel, if you'd let me go a little way into the prairie.''
``Half an hour,'' said Clark, ``and you'll not go alone.'' Sweeping his eye over Bowman's company, he picked out a man here and a man there to go with Saunders. Then his eye lighted on me. ``Where's McChesney?'' he said. ``Fetch McChesney.''
I ran to get Tom, and seven of them went away, with Saunders in the middle, Clark watching them like a hawk, while the men sat down in the grass to wait. Fifteen minutes went by, and twenty, and twenty-five, and Clark was calling for a rope, when some one caught sight of the squad in the distance returning at a run. And when they came within hail it was Saunders' voice we heard, shouting brokenly:--
``I've struck it, Colonel, I've struck the trace. There's a pecan at the edge of the bottom
For three days we marched in the green shade of the primeval wood, nor saw the sky save in blue patches here and there. Again we toiled for hours through the coffee- colored waters of the swamps. But the third day brought us to the first of those strange clearings which the French call prairies, where the long grass ripples like a lake in the summer wind. Here we first knew raging thirst, and longed for the loam-specked water we had scorned, as our tired feet tore through the grass. For Saunders, our guide, took a line across the open in plain sight of any eye that might be watching from the forest cover. But at length our column wavered and halted by reason of some disturbance at the head of it. Conjectures in our company, the rear guard, became rife at once.
``Run, Davy darlin,' an' see what the throuble is,'' said Terence.
Nothing loath, I made my way to the head of the column, where Bowman's company had broken ranks and stood in a ring up to their thighs in the grass. In the centre of the ring, standing on one foot before our angry Colonel, was Saunders.
``Now, what does this mean?'' demanded Clark; ``my eye is on you, and you've boxed the compass in this last hour.''
Saunders' jaw dropped.
``I'm guiding you right,'' he answered, with that sullenness which comes to his kind from fear, ``but a man will slip his bearings sometimes in this country.''
Clark's eyes shot fire, and he brought down the stock of his rifle with a thud.
``By the eternal God!'' he cried, ``I believe you are a traitor. I've been watching you every step, and you've acted strangely this morning.''
``Ay, ay,'' came from the men round him.
``Silence!'' cried Clark, and turned again to the cowering Saunders. ``You pretend to know the way to Kaskaskia, you bring us to the middle of the Indian country where we may be wiped out at any time, and now you have the damned effrontery to tell me that you have lost your way. I am a man of my word,'' he added with a vibrant intensity, and pointed to the limbs of a giant tree which stood at the edge of the distant forest. ``I will give you half an hour, but as I live, I will leave you hanging there.''
The man's brown hand trembled as he clutched his rifle barrel.
`` 'Tis a hard country, sir,'' he said. ``I'm lost. I swear it on the evangels.''
``A hard country!'' cried Clark. ``A man would have to walk over it but once to know it. I believe you are a damned traitor and perjurer,--in spite of your oath, a British spy.
Saunders wiped the sweat from his brow on his buckskin sleeve.
``I reckon I could get the trace, Colonel, if you'd let me go a little way into the prairie.''
``Half an hour,'' said Clark, ``and you'll not go alone.'' Sweeping his eye over Bowman's company, he picked out a man here and a man there to go with Saunders. Then his eye lighted on me. ``Where's McChesney?'' he said. ``Fetch McChesney.''
I ran to get Tom, and seven of them went away, with Saunders in the middle, Clark watching them like a hawk, while the men sat down in the grass to wait. Fifteen minutes went by, and twenty, and twenty-five, and Clark was calling for a rope, when some one caught sight of the squad in the distance returning at a run. And when they came within hail it was Saunders' voice we heard, shouting brokenly:--
``I've struck it, Colonel, I've struck the trace. There's a pecan at the edge of the bottom