Mower County transcript., 1906-12-12
CHAPTER XVII.

Together, silent, in darkness and
without fire, Daniel Boone and Owa-
toga Sat Neutrality-suspicious. of dan
ger, alert, but unafraid. Their hid
ing-place was sheltered, but no spot
! was proof against the brand or bull
let, and the Indians we're on their
track Owatoga had reconnoitered, and
in the early dusk, himself undiscov-
ered-had come upon a group of them
in secret council. They knew this
was the right trail-they would follow
it with all cunning and persistence;
they would not abandon the quarry
now almost lured.
Daniel Boone received the news in
silence; finally he glanced up from his
carving to say: Daniel Boone has
tired them out before; he can do it
again. We are together this time,
Owatoga; we can stand it as long as
they CAM
! He resumed his work. and quiet
| rei2ned. One by one the stars came
| out, until across the zenith shone long
! arcs of light, forming bridge above
their heads with the giant pines for
pillars. On sudden the quiet was
broken-the sounds were faint at
| first, then louder and louder, until to
their ears was plainly borne the noise
of men in fight. The crack of rifles,
| the tumult of voices, all the indis-
| tinguishable sounds which, in their
| very vagueness, carry so much Of
sinister import.
Doone and the Indian stood erect,
| their rifles directed towards the open
ing in the grove. They exchanged
not a word. Neither was given to speech
| both knew how to wait. The din sound
ed nearer, and then ceased as suddenly
| as it commenced. There was a sound
| of men in retreat which distance
! quickly stif1ed, then all was still.
But the quiet was brief. Again
| voices were heard, but this time there
was no clamor, no note of alarm
Only muttered sounds, and scraps of
| disjointed talk The speakers drew
| nearer to where the watchers peered
into the dark. At last white some
thing f1uttered in the trees, and
CHEEKY halloos sounded.
"a truce!" and slowly Boone's rifle
dropped.
| Then familiar voice reached Owa-
| :oga's ears; tone which awakened re-
| sponse in the stoical breast, and his
| gun, too, fell at his side "Owatoga,
it is L, Winslow."
There were shouts Of greeting, and
torches waved above the heads of
| band of men who came slowly forward,
! a search party of the villagers led by
| Winslow.
In their midst they carried litter,
whereon lay a man, face downward,
as if to hide from even the plying
gaze Of the stars. Two or three 9th
ers limped along, groaning, between
| their companions. Confusion fol-
lowed, and in the excitement, one fact
| alone was clear. The relief party, with
Rev. Luke at it's head, had come,
| without warning, upon the besiegers,
| and routed them after a sharp fight.
To each man, in his version of the
fray, Boone lent ears willing. yet
tingling with discomfort that he could
| know of it but as tale rehearsed.
II thank you all from the bottom of
this old heart" he said my heart which
leaps yet at thought of this nights
danger. 'Tis the worst of old age,
! that we must let others do for us; that
| others must risk their lives for ours
| ours, that are not worth the trou-
ble," he ended, bitterly.
He moved to the litter that had been
placed near a new-built fire. The suf
| ferer's head was swathed in a rude
bandage, but as Boone approached, the
eyes opened-eyes large, glittering and
| dark as the night which, for them, no
| more could star nor fire make bright.