The Eyes of the Woods: A Story of the Ancient Wilderness

“What are we to do?” asked Paul in dismay. “If we were to find game we wouldn’t dare fire at it with the Indians perhaps so near.”

“True,” said Tom Ross.

“And if we can’t fire at it we certainly can’t catch it with our hands.”

“True,” said Tom Ross.

“And then are we to starve to death?”

“No,” said Tom Ross.

Paul did not ask anything more, but his questioning look was on the silent man.

“Fish,” said Tom Ross, showing his line and hook.

“Where?” asked Shif’less Sol.

“Fine, clear creek, only hundred yards away.”

“Do you know that it hez any fish in it?”

“Saw ’em little while ago. Fine big fellers, bass.”

“Then be quick an’ ketch a lot, ’cause the pangs o’ starvation are already on me.”

Tom Ross cut the slim pole that he had already picked out and measured with his eye, took squirming bait from the soft earth under a stone, just as millions of boys in the Mississippi valley have done, and started for the creek, Paul being delegated to accompany him, while Henry, Long Jim and the shiftless one proceeded to build a fire in the most secluded spot they could find. There was danger in a fire, but they could shield the smoke, or at least most of it, and the risk must be taken anyhow. They could not eat raw the fish which they did not doubt for a moment Tom Ross would soon bring.

Meanwhile Paul and Tom reached the banks of the creek, which was all the silent one had claimed for it, fifteen feet wide, two feet deep, clear water, flowing over a pebbly bottom. Tom tied his string to the pole, and threw in the hook and bait.

“You watch, I fish,” he said.

Paul, his rifle in the crook of his arm, strolled a little bit down the stream, examining the forest and listening attentively for any hostile sound. Since it was his business to protect the fisherman while he fished, he meant to protect him well, and no enemy could have come near without being observed by him. And yet he had enough detachment from the dangers of their situation to drink deep in the beauty of the wilderness, which was here a tangle of green forest, shot with wild flowers and cut by clear running waters.

But he did not go so far that he failed to hear a thump where Tom Ross was sitting, and he knew that a fine fish had been landed. Presently a second thump came to his ear, and, glancing through the bushes, he saw Tom taking the fish off the hook, a look of intense satisfaction on his face. Then the silent fisherman threw in the line again and leaned back luxuriously against the trunk of a tree, while he waited for his third bite. Paul smiled. He knew that Silent Tom was happy, happy because he had prepared for and was achieving a necessary task.

Paul went on in a circuit about the fisherman, crossing the creek lower down, where it was narrower, on a fallen log, and discovered no sign of a foe, though he did come to a bed of wild flowers, the delicate pale blue of which pleased him so much that he broke off two blossoms and thrust them into his deerskin tunic. Then he came back to Silent Tom, to find that he had caught four fine large fish, and, having thrown away his pole, was winding up his line.

“’Nuff,” said the silent one.

“I think so, too,” said Paul, “and now we’ll hurry back with ’em.”

“Look like a flower garden, you!”

“If I do I’m glad of it.”

“Like it myself.”

“I know you do, Tom. I know that however you may appear, and that however fierce and warlike you may be at times, your character rests upon a solid bedrock of poetry.”

Tom stared and then smiled, and by this time the two had returned with their spoils to a little valley in which a little fire was burning, with the blaze smothered already, but a fine bed of coals left. The fish were cleaned with amazing quickness, and then Long Jim broiled them in a manner fit for kings. The five ate hungrily, but with due regard for manners.

“You’re a good fisherman, Tom Ross,” said Shif’less Sol, “but it ought to be my job.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it’s the job o’ a lazy man. I reckon that all fishermen, leastways them that fish in creeks an’ rivers, are lazy, nothin’ to do but set still an’ doze till a fish comes along an’ hooks hisself on to your bait. Then you jest hev to heave him in an’ put the hook back in the water ag’in.”

“There’s enough of the fish left for another meal,” said Henry, “and I think we’d better put it in our packs and be off.”

“You still favor a retreat into the north?” said Paul.

“Yes, and toward the northeast, too. We’ll go in the direction of Piqua and Chillicothe, their big towns. As we’ve concluded over and over again, the offensive is the best defensive, and we’ll push it to the utmost. What’s your opinion, Sol? Who do you think will be the next leader to come against us?”

“Red Eagle an’ the Shawnees. I’m thinkin’ they’re curvin’ out now to trap us, an’ that Red Eagle is a mighty crafty fellow.”

They trod out the coals, threw some dead leaves over them, and took a course toward the northeast. It seemed pretty safe to assume that the ring of warriors was thickest in the south, and that they might slip through in the north. Time and distance were of little importance to them, and they felt able to find their rations as they went in the forest.

They had been traveling about an hour at the easy walk of the border, when they heard a long cry behind them.

“They’ve found the dead coals o’ our fire,” said Shif’less Sol.

“Which means that they’re not so far away,” said Paul.

“But we’ve been comin’ over rocky ground, an’ the trail ain’t picked up so easy. An’ we might make it a lot harder by wadin’ a while up this branch.”

The brook fortunately led in the direction in which they wished to go. They walked in it a full half mile, and as it had a sandy bottom their footprints vanished almost at once. When they emerged at last they heard the long cry again, now from a point toward the east, and then a distant answer from a point in the west. Shif’less Sol laughed with intense enjoyment.

“Guessin’! Jest guessin’!” he said. “They’ve found the dead coals an’ they know that we wuz thar once, but that now we ain’t, an’ it’s not whar we wuz but whar we ain’t that’s botherin’ ’em.”

“Still,” said Paul, “the more distance we put between them and us the better I, for one, will like it.”

“You’re right, Paul,” said Shif’less Sol. “I guess we’d better shake our feet to a lively tune.”

They increased their walk to a trot, and fled through the great forest.

CHAPTER VI

THE OASIS

The five continued their flight all that day, seeing no enemies and hearing no further signal from them. But Henry knew intuitively that the warriors were still in pursuit. They would spread out in every direction, and some one among them would, in time, pick up the trail. After a while, they permitted their own gait to sink to an easy walk, but they did not veer from their northeastern course. Henry, all the time, was a keen observer of the country, and he noticed with pleasure the change that was occurring.

They were coming to a low sunken land, cut by many streams, nearly all sluggish and muddy. The season had been rainy, and there was an odor of dampness over all things. Great thickets of reeds and cane began to appear, and now and then they trod into deep banks of moss.

“Perhaps we’d better turn to the north and avoid it,” said Paul. “This marsh region seems to be extensive.”

Henry shook his head.

“We won’t avoid it,” he said. “On the contrary it’s just what we want. I’m thinking that we’re being watched over. You know the forest fire came in time to save us, then the falls appeared just when we needed ’em, and now this huge marsh, extending miles and miles in every direction, cuts across our path, not as an enemy, but as a friend.”

“That is, we are to hide in it?”

“Where could we find a better refuge?”

“Then you lead the way, Henry,” said Shif’less Sol. “Ef you sink in it we’ll pull you out, purvidin’ you don’t go in it over your neck.”

Henry went ahead, his wary eye examining the ground which had already grown alarmingly soft save for those trained for such marchings. But he was able to pick out the firm places, though the earth would quickly close over their footsteps, as they passed, and, now and then, they walked on the upthrust roots of trees, their moccasins giving them a securer hold.

It was precarious and dangerous work, but they went deeper and deeper into the heart of the great swamp, through thickets of bushes, cane and reeds, the soil continually growing softer and the vegetation ranker and more gloomy. Often the canes and reeds were so dense that they had difficulty in seeing their leader, as he slipped on ahead. Sometimes snakes trailed a slimy length from their path, and, hardened foresters though they were, they shuddered. Occasionally an incautious foot sank to the knee and it was pulled out again with a choking sigh as the mud closed where it had been. Mosquitoes and many other buzzing and stinging insects assailed them, but they pressed on without hesitation.

They came to a great black pond on which marsh fowl were swimming, but Henry led around its miry edges, and they pressed on into the deeper depths of the vast swamp. He judged that they had now penetrated it a full two miles, but he had no intention of stopping. The four behind him knew without his telling for what he was looking. The swamp, partly a product of an extremely rainy season, must have bits of solid ground somewhere within its area, and, when they came to such a place, they would stop. Yet it would be all the better if they did not reach it for a long time, as the farther they were from the edge of the swamp the safer they could rest.

No island of firm earth appeared, and the traveling grew more difficult. Often they helped themselves along with vines that drooped from scrubby trees, swinging their bodies over places that would not bear their weight, but always, whether slow or fast, they made progress, penetrating farther and farther into the huge blind maze.

The sun was low when they stopped for a long rest, hoping they would reach refuge very soon.

“I don’t think the warriors kin ever find us in here,” said Long Jim, “but what’s troublin’ me is whether we’ll ever be able to git out ag’in.”

“Mebbe you wouldn’t be so anxious to show yourse’f, Jim Hart, on solid ground ef you could only see yourse’f ez I see you,” said Shif’less Sol. “You’re a sight, plastered over with black mud, an’ scratched with briers an’ bushes. Lookin’ at you, an’ sizin’ you up, I reckon that jest now you’re ’bout the ugliest man in this hull round world.”

“Ef I ain’t, you are,” said Long Jim, grinning. “Fact is, thar ain’t a beauty among us. I don’t mind mud so much, but I don’t like it when it’s black an’ slimy. How fur do you reckon this flooded country goes, Henry?”

“Twenty miles, maybe, Jim, but the farther the better for us. Here’s an old fallen log which I think will hold our weight. Suppose we stop here and rest a little.”

They were glad enough to do so. When they sat down they heard the mournful sigh of a light wind through the black and marshy jungle, and the splash now and then of a muskrat in the water. Their refuge seemed dim and inexpressibly remote, as if it belonged to the wet and ferny world of dim antiquity. But every one of the five felt that they were safe, at least for the present, from pursuit.

“We might plough a trail a yard deep,” said Shif’less Sol, “but the mud would close over it ag’in in five minutes, an’ Red Eagle with five hundred o’ the best trailers in the hull Shawnee nation couldn’t foller us.”

“It’s strange and grim,” said Paul, “but, when you look at it a long time there’s a certain kind of forbidding beauty about it, and you’re bound to admit that it’s a friendly swamp, since it’s hiding us from ruthless pursuers.”

“Perhaps that’s why you find the beauty in it,” said Henry. “Come on, though. The Shawnees are not likely to reach us here, but we must find some snug place in which we can camp.”

“After all,” said Paul, “we’re like travelers in a great desert looking for an oasis.”

“We ain’t as hungry ez all that,” said Long Jim.

“You won’t get angry if I laugh, Jim, will you?” asked Paul.

“Don’t mind me. Go ahead an’ laugh all you want.”

“An oasis is not something to eat, Jim. It’s a green and watered place in an ocean of sand.”

“Seems to me that we waste time lookin’ fur a place that’s more watered than all these we’re crossin’. What I want is a dry place, a piece out uv that ocean uv sand you’re talkin’ ’bout.”

“The conditions are merely reversed. My illustration holds good.”

“What did you say, Paul? Them wuz mighty big words.”

“Never mind. You’ll find out in due time. Just you pray for an oasis in this swamp, because that is what we want, and we want it bad.”

“All right, Paul, I’m prayin’. I ain’t shore what I’m prayin’ fur, but I take your word fur it.”

Henry rose and led on again, anxious of heart. They were well hidden, it was true, in the great swamp, but they must find some place to lay their heads. It was impossible to rest in the black ooze that surrounded them, and if they did not reach firmer ground soon he did not know what they would do. The sun was already low, and, in the east, the shadows were gathering. Around them all things were clothed in gloom. Even that touch of forbidding beauty, of which Paul had spoken was gone and the whole swamp became dark and sinister.

Henry was compelled to walk with the utmost care, lest he become engulfed, and finally all of them cut lengths of cane with which they felt about in the mire before they advanced.

“Pray hard, Long Jim,” said Paul. “Pray hard for that oasis, because the night will soon be here, and if we don’t find our oasis we’ll have to stand in our tracks until day, and that’s a mighty hard thing to do.”

“I wuz never wishin’ an prayin’ harder in my life.”

“I think your prayer is answered,” interrupted Henry, who was thrusting here and there with his cane. “To the right the ground seems to be growing more solid. The mire is not more than a foot deep. I think I’ll venture in that direction. What do you say, boys?”

“Might ez well try it,” said Shif’less Sol. “It may be a last chance, but sometimes a last chance wins.”

Henry, feeling carefully with the long, stout cane, plunged into the slough. He was more anxious than he was willing to say, but at the same time he was hopeful. As the swamp was due, at least in large part, to the great rains, it must have firm ground somewhere, and he had noticed also in the thickening twilight that the bushes ahead seemed much larger than usual. A dozen steps and the mire was not more than six inches deep. Then with a subdued cry of triumph he seized the bushes, pulled himself among them, and stood not more than moccasin deep in the mud.

“It’s the best place we’ve come to yet,” he said. “I can’t see over the thicket, but I’m hoping that we’ll find beyond it some kind of a hill and dry ground.”

“I know we will,” said Long Jim, confidently. “It’s ’cause I wished an’ prayed so hard. It’s a lucky thing, Paul, that you had me to do the wishin’ an’ prayin’, ’stead o’ Shif’less Sol, ’cause then we’d hev walked into black mire a thousan’ feet deep. Ef the prayers uv the sinners are answered a-tall, a-tall, they’re answered wrong.”

Shif’less Sol shook his head scornfully.

“Let’s go on, Henry,” he said, “afore Long Jim talks us plum’ to death, a thing I’d hate to hev happen to me, jest when we’re ’bout to reach the promised land.”

Henry pushed his way through dense bushes and trailing vines, and he noticed with intense joy that all the time the earth was growing firmer. The others followed silently in his tracks. In five minutes he emerged from the thicket, and then he could not repress an exclamation of pleasure. They had come upon a low hill, an acre perhaps in extent, as firm as any soil and well grown with thick low oaks. Where the shade was not too deep the grass was rich, and the five, the others repeating Henry’s cry of joy, threw themselves upon it and luxuriated.

“It’s fine,” said Shif’less Sol, “to lay here an’ to feel that the earth under you ain’t quiverin’ like a heap o’ jelly. I turn from one side to the other an’ then back ag’in, an’ I don’t sink into no mud, a-tall, a-tall.”

“An’ this, Paul, is the o-sis that you wuz talkin’ ’bout, an’ that I wished an’ prayed into the right place fur us?” said Long Jim.

“Oasis, Jim, not o-sis,” said Paul.

“Oasis or o-sis, it’s jest ez good to me by either name, an’ I think I’ll stick to o-sis, ’cause it’s easier to say. But, Paul, did you ever see a finer piece uv land? Did you ever see finer, richer soil? Did you ever see more splendiferous grass or grander oaks?”

“I feel about it just as you do,” laughed Paul.

Henry lay still a full ten minutes, resting after their tremendous efforts in the swamp, then he rose, walked through their oasis and discovered that at the far edge a fine large brook was running, apparently and in some mysterious way, escaping at that point the contamination of the mud, although he could see that farther on it lost itself in the swamp. But its cool, sparkling waters were a heavenly sight, and, walking back, he announced his discovery to the others.

“All of you know what you can do,” he said.

“We do,” said Paul.

“First thought in my mind,” said Shif’less Sol.

“An’ we’ll do it,” said Long Jim.

“Now!” said Silent Tom.

They took off their clothing, scraped from it as much mud as they could, and took a long and luxurious bath in the brook. Then they came out on the bank and let themselves dry, the night which had now fully come, fortunately being warm. As they lay in the grass they felt a great content, and Long Jim gave it utterance.

“An o-sis is a fine thing,” he said. “I’m glad you invented ’em, Paul, ’cause I don’t know what we’d a-done without this un.”

Henry rose and began to dress. The others did likewise.

“I think we’d better eat the rest of Tom’s fish and then go to sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow morning we’ll have to hold a grand council, and consider the question of food, as I think we’re very likely to stay in here quite a while.”

“Are you really looking for a long stay?” asked Paul.

“Yes, because the Indians will be beating up the woods for us so thoroughly that it will be best for us not to move from our hiding place. It’s a fine swamp! A glorious swamp! And because it’s so big and black and miry it’s all the better for us. The only problem before us is to get food.”

“And we always get it somehow or other.”

They wrapped themselves in their blankets to keep off any chill that might come later in the night, lay down under the boughs of the dwarf oaks, and slept soundly until the next day, keeping no watch, because they were sure they needed none. Tom Ross himself never opened his eyes once until the sun rose. Then the problem of food, imminent and pressing, as the last of the fish was gone, presented itself.

“I think that branch is big enough to hold fish,” said Tom Ross, bringing forth his hook and line again, “an’ ef any are thar they’ll be purty tame, seein’ that the water wuz never fished afore. Anyway I’ll soon see.”

The others watched him anxiously, as he threw in his bait, and their delight was immense, when a half hour’s effort was rewarded with a half dozen perch, of fair size and obviously succulent.

“At any rate, we won’t starve,” said Henry, “though it would be hard to live on fish alone, and besides it’s not healthy.”

“But we’ll get something else,” said Paul.

“What else?”

“I don’t know, but I notice when we keep on looking we’re always sure to find.”

“You’re right, Paul. It’s a good thing to have faith, and I’ll have it, too. But we can eat fish for several meals yet, and then see what will happen.”

They devoted the morning to a thorough washing and cleaning of their clothing, which they dried in the sun, and they also made a further examination of the oasis. The swamp came up to its very edge on all three sides except that of the brook, and a little distance beyond the brook it was swamp again. It would have been hard to imagine a more secluded and secure retreat, and Henry dismissed from his mind the thought of immediate pursuit there by the Indians. Their present problems were those of food and shelter.

“I think,” he said, “that we ought to build a bark hut. There’s a natural site between the four big trees which will be the corners of our house, and the ground is just covered with the kind of bark we want.”

In the warm sunshine and with a clear sky above them they seemed to have no need of a house, but all of them knew how quickly the weather could change in the great valley. It would be hard to stand a fierce storm on the oasis, and one of the secrets of the great and continued success of the five was to prepare for every emergency of which they could think.

Long practice had given them high skill, and four of them set to work with their tomahawks to build a hut of bark and poles, working swiftly, dextrously and mostly in silence, while Silent Tom went back to the fishing. They toiled that day and at least half the night with poles and bark, and by noon the next day they had finished a little cabin, which they were sure would hold, with the aid of the great trees, against anything. It had a floor of poles smoothed with dead leaves, one small window and a low door, over which they purposed to hang blankets if a blowing rain came.

Throughout their hard labors they had an abundance of fish, but nothing else, and they not only began to long for other food, but health demanded it as well.

“Ef Long Jim Hart offers fish to me, ag’in,” said the shiftless one, “I’ll take it an’ cram it down his own throat.”

“And then how’ll you live?” asked Paul.

“I think I’ll take Long Jim hisself an’ eat him, beginnin’ at his head, which is the softest part o’ him.”

“Now that the cabin is done,” said Henry, “maybe we can devote some attention to hunting.”

“Huntin’ in black mud that’ll suck you down to your waist in a second?” said Shif’less Sol.

“I think I might find a pathway on the other side of the stream, and this swamp ought to hold a lot of game. Bears love swamps, and I might run across a deer.”

“Would the Indians hear you if you fired?” asked Paul.

“No, we’re too far in for the sound of a rifle to reach ’em. Still, I won’t start today. I suppose we can stand the fish until tomorrow.”

“We have to stand ’em,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ that bein’ the case I think I’ll look ag’in at our beautiful house which hasn’t a nail or a spike in it, but is jest held together by withes an’ vines, but held together well jest the same.”

“Ain’t it fine?” said Long Jim with genuine admiration. “It’s jest ’bout the finest house that ever stood on this o-sis.”

“That, at least, is true,” said Paul.

They did not sleep in the cabin that night, as they intended to use it only in bad weather, but made good beds on the leaves outside. Shif’less Sol was the first to awake, and it was scarcely dawn when he arose. Happening to look toward the brook delight overspread his face like a sunrise, and laughing softly to himself he took his own rifle and Long Jim’s. Then he crept forward without noise, and making sure of his aim, fired both rifles so closely together that one would have thought it was a double barreled weapon.

The four leaped to their feet, and, clearing the sleep from their eyes, ran in the direction of the shots. But the shiftless one was already walking proudly back toward them.

“What is it, Sol?” cried Paul.

“Only these,” replied Shif’less Sol, and he held up a fat wild duck in either hand. “They wuz swimmin’ in the branch, waitin’ to be cooked an’ et by five good fellers like us, an’ seein’ they wuz in earnest ’bout it I hev obliged ’em. So here they are, an’ you, Long Jim, you, you set to work at once an’ cook ’em, ’cause I’m mighty hungry fur nice fat duck, not hevin’ et anythin’ but fish fur the last year or two.”

“Jest watch me do it,” said Long Jim. “Ain’t I been waitin’ fur a chance uv this kind? While I’m cookin’ ’em you fellers will stan’ ’roun’, an’ them sav’ry smells will make you so hungry you can’t bear to wait, but you’ll hev to, ’cause I won’t let you touch a duck till it’s br’iled jest right. Are thar any more whar these come from, Sol?”

“Not jest at this minute, Jim, but thar wuz, an’ thar will be. A dozen jest ez good ez these fat fellers flew away when I fired, an’ whar some hez been more will come.”