The Frontier Angel: A Romance of Kentucky Rangers' Life by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Author:Edward Sylvester Ellis [Ellis, Edward Sylvester]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER X.

IN WHICH THERE IS A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE SHAWNEES, THE SPEAKERS, AND JENKINS.

After receiving the summary reply of the commander of the block-house, McGable arose, and without a word walked toward the wood. Here he seemed to spend a short time in consultation with the Indians; for they immediately after separated and disappeared among the trees.

"What does that mean?" asked Mansfield.

"They've drawn off, and will wait till night 'fore they try any of their games," replied Peterson. "We ain't done with 'em yet."

Such seemed to be the impression of all the others who had had any experience in Indian warfare. The Indians were too eager and well-prepared to be satisfied with anything short of an attempt to carry the block-house.

The night set in cold and stormy. The rain poured down in torrents, and the wind hurled it rattling against the block-house. The air, too, was of inky darkness, and the dismal sighing of the forest, the dull, murmuring roar of the Ohio, made the scene gloomy enough to the settlers. Had it not been for the incessant lightning, the time could not have been more favorable for the assault of the Indians. But the sharp, trembling streams of fire played constantly overhead, lighting up the forest and clearing as if at noonday, and the "near crashing of the thunderbolt" seemed to inspire the timid with a sort of valor—a peculiar bravery that they were strangers to at other times.

Dingle, Peterson, and the most experienced Indian-fighters never removed from their stations at the loop-holes during the night. The terrible storm that prevailed was of incalculable benefit to the whites in another particular. It prevented their assailants from using that most dreaded of all agencies—fire, in the assault.

The sentinels mentioned kept a continual watch from all sides of the block-house upon the wood and clearing. They knew too well that the continued silence of their enemies was more dangerous than open demonstration. Some deep-laid plan was hatching which was expected momently to develop itself.

Now and then a few syllables were exchanged between those within, but these fragments of conversation only seemed to make the gloom more impressive. No lights were burning, and none could see his neighbor. The men had all been assigned stations by the commander, which they did not offer to leave or exchange, while some of the women and younger portion, overcome by watching and the confined air, gave way to their drowsiness and slept feverishly and fitfully.

The hours between midnight and morning are the invariable ones selected by the North American Indian for making his attack upon his enemy. This strange being, so similar to the wild animal in more than one respect, seems to have learned many a lesson from him. Darkness, the stealthy approach and blow; the inevitable yell and leap in death; the howl of rage and disappointment; the chilling war-whoop; the persisting trailing of an enemy; the patient, silent watch; the black passions of revenge; the reveling in blood; all these are passions common to and a part of both.

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