"Yes," replied the woman. "I grabbed the only feather bed we had in our cabin and ripped it open, in desperate haste, feeling just as I did when I was trying to close the door. I knew if I was not quick enough the Shawnees would be in the room. It was fortunate that there were coals on the fireplace, and just as soon as I put the feathers on them a blaze sprang up and such smoke as I never saw began to pour up the chimney. In less than one minute two of the redskins fell into the fireplace, and with the same axe with which I had defended the door I quickly put an end to both varmints."

"That made six of the seven, then," suggested Peleg.

"Yes. But the seventh wasn't ready to leave yet. He ran around to the door and tried to crawl through while I was busy at the chimney. It was fortunate that I chanced to see him. He got a gash in the cheek, and you ought to have heard him yell when he ran away from the door. Talk to me about the Indians never making any fuss! This man was yelling so that you might have heard him at the fort. He called me the 'Long Knife Squaw,' but I didn't care so long as he cleared out for good and all!

And I don't believe any of them will come again very soon."

"What are you going to do now?" inquired Peleg.

"I haven't any plans."

"You must come with me to the fort."

"But I must not leave my clearing," said the heroic woman. "Now that my husband is dead, I shall have everything to do."

"Come with me, and I will find some one to do what ought to be done here."

Yielding to the persuasion of the young scout, Mrs. Merrill accompanied him to the fort, where at once some of the women offered her the solace of their sympathy.

Peleg at once a.s.sembled a little company of men, and led by Daniel Boone himself they returned to the scene of the brave woman's struggles. The dead Indians were buried and the two cows were driven within the stockade.

"It will not be safe," said Daniel Boone to Peleg, "for Mrs. Merrill to come back here alone. If she does insist upon coming, either you or Israel must be with her. She should be persuaded, however, not to expose herself to such dangers as she will meet here."

"She seems to be able to protect herself," said Peleg dryly.

"Indeed she does. I question if there is another woman in our settlement who would have been able to do what she did. Single-handed, to keep off seven Shawnees! I believe that the story of her bravery will be told to your grandchildren, Peleg."

Mrs. Merrill, however, was found to be more reasonable than the great scout's fear had warranted. She was quite willing to make her home for the present where the peril and the loneliness were not so great as in her cabin.

The attacks of the Indians continued, although no party as large as that which had attacked the home of the Merrills was seen. The plowmen in the fields, the men cutting the timber, and those who separated from their fellows while hunting game were continually in danger.

The determination of the whites was as great as that of the Indians, and although every one was anxious, no one thought of withdrawing from the settlement.

To Daniel Boone himself there came a little later an experience almost as thrilling as that which had befallen Mrs. Merrill.

Among the new families was one named Callaway. In this family there was a girl of nearly the same age as Daniel's Boone's daughter Jemima. One morning, early in the summer, the girls, taking the one canoe which was kept near the fort, paddled out upon the river.

"Do not go more than one hundred feet above or below the fort," warned Daniel Boone, who stood on the bank watching the girls. Both promised, and soon in their light-hearted way were paddling the canoe back and forth from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e.

Satisfied that the girls were well within the protection they needed, Daniel Boone returned to his labours and no one was left upon the bank to watch them.

As the sport continued, and before either of the girls was aware of the fact, the light canoe had drifted beyond the points which had been designated by the scout as the limits of safety. Discovering some flowers along the sh.o.r.e, they pushed the little craft in among the tall rushes while they plucked the blossoms they were seeking. The canoe was well within the rushes and concealed, as the girls thought, from the sight of any one on the bank.

Suddenly the younger girl, emitting a piercing shriek, turned to Jemima Boone, and exclaimed: "Look there! Oh, look there!"

As Jemima sharply turned about she saw, creeping through the rushes and concealed from the sight of any one on the sh.o.r.e, a huge Shawnee warrior, who already had seized the painter of the little craft.

Scream followed scream when the Indian began to pull the canoe toward him. In a moment he was joined by several of his dusky comrades. The canoe was drawn to the sh.o.r.e and the girls, prisoners of the savages, were dragged up the bank.

CHAPTER XVII

THE PURSUIT

The screams of the terrified girls were plainly heard at the fort. A little company of frightened women and frantic men quickly a.s.sembled upon the bank, but in spite of the piteous appeals it was too late to help the unfortunate prisoners. Four additional Indians appeared and, a.s.sisting their comrades, seized the girls and with them rushed into the wilderness.

The men from the fort who were standing on the bank of the stream were unable to cross, the only canoe being now on the opposite sh.o.r.e.

Calling to one another, the men endeavoured to find some one who would venture to swim to the other sh.o.r.e. No one volunteered, however, as all were afraid that the Indians might return if such an attempt should be made. Both Daniel Boone and the father of Miss Callaway were absent from the settlement at the time, and it was nearly night when they returned.

Stopping only a moment to comfort his heartbroken wife, Daniel Boone, as soon as he was informed, acted promptly and decisively, as was his habit. He was well aware that no time should be lost, and fortunately he discovered Peleg at that moment returning to the fort.

"The girls have been taken by the Indians," said Boone, suppressing his emotion.

"What girls? What do you mean?" inquired Peleg, aghast.

"Jemima and her friend, the Callaway girl."

"When?"

"This noon. I have no time to explain. We must get a party to start right away. Find every man you can and I, too, will look about, and we will meet here at the fort just as soon as we can get our party together."

Darting into the house, Peleg secured Singing Susan, and then, finding Israel Boone, who was almost as aroused as his father, the two instantly began their search for men who would join the rescue party.

Soon afterward a band of eight men stood with the scout on the bank of the Kentucky River near the fort. The quiet of the summer evening was unbroken save by the occasional cry of some night-bird. It had been long since the screams of the disappearing girls had been heard, but the direction from which they had come indicated the way in which to start the pursuit.

"How many are here?" inquired Boone, as he glanced about the group.

"Eight," replied Peleg, "including you and Israel."

"We need more, but I shall not wait. We will start at once."

The canoe meanwhile had been secured by one of the boys of the settlement who swam across the river at dusk and returned in the little craft, paddling with his hand, for the blades had been broken by the Indians to delay pursuit.

The men now were ferried across the river, and as soon as every one was standing on the opposite bank Daniel Boone again inquired: "Is every one prepared?"

Every member of the party declared that he was ready to follow wherever the great scout might lead.

Instantly Daniel Boone led the way into the forest. The anxious scout was so quiet and self-controlled that an uninformed spectator would never have suspected that he was labouring under special stress. Even Peleg was astonished at the composed bearing of the man.

Turning to Israel, the young scout remarked: "Your father is saving every ounce of his strength for the work ahead of us. He is not wasting any time crying."

"He never does," responded Israel proudly. "Do you know, Peleg," young Boone said, "there are times when Parson John Lythe preaches to us that he speaks of the Great Father of us all, and somehow I always think of Him as if He looked somewhat as _my_ father does."

Deeply impressed as Peleg was by the reverence in which the son of Daniel Boone held his father, there was no opportunity at the time for further conversation.