Monowano, the Shawnee spy

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MONOWANO;

THE SHAWNEE SPY.

Chapter I The Trail-hunters

"I cakt see the use of the Injins acting so mean all the time. They're always trying to rob and kill the people along the frontier ; and if a fellow like me undertakes to go into their country to look at things, he's sure to get chased out again, and ef he happens to get catched they won't take any apology or excuse, but court-martial him on the spot. Confound them 1 it's time they learned better."

The speaker was Peter Jenkins, who, while uttering the 4boye remarks, was coiled up in the branches of a luxuriant oak, where he deemed even the gleaming eye of a Shawnee could not reach him. For miles around stretched the wilds of Western Kentucky, swarming with Indians and wild beasts, ft'ith here and there a solitary block-house or settlement. The time was in the early summer of 1794, a short period previous to the celebrated battle and treaty of Wayne.

It would have been almost impossible to discover the lading-place of Jenkins. He had been ranging through the country for the past week, and was now returning homeward To avoid pursuit, he had concealed his trail as much as possible, and had spent the night in the tree as the most certain retreat from discovery. He had but just awakened and was communing with himself. Peter was a long, gaunt personage, with dangling feet and arms, and yet, withal, a person of uncommon activity. His face was homely, but expressive of good-humor and frankness. He bad large, innocent blue eyes,

(J THE SHAWNEE SPY.

a huge nose, and irregular features. His costume was the same as that worn by the hunters of the day, consisting of the usual leggins, hunting-shirt, etc.

"It is strange how them Injins will go on; they're all the time up to some deviltry. Shouldn't wonder at all if there's a lot following me. If there don't too many come, I don't care. When I first come out here, I own I was somewhat skeerish ; but I'm getting over that, though there is something about the painted imps that always makes me feel nervous. Dingle has cured me of the fear I used to have, though now and then them fainting fits will come over me, just when they shouldn't. Well, well, I suppose — hello ! who shot that !"

The last exclamation had good cause for its utterance; for the report of a rifle, a few rods away, was followed by the sharp cutting of a bullet through the leaves, within almost a hair's breadth of Jenkins' head. The startled trail-hunter nervously ducked his head, and shrunk still closer to the limb of the tree upon which he had ensconced himself.

" That's mean, by thunder ! to treat a fellow that way !" he indignantly exclaimed to himself. " S'pose I'm hit with a bullet, just see what a fall I must have ! It would break my neck as sure as the world ! Now, Pete Jenkins, bring your biggest powers into play."

As he uttered these words, he extended himself in a horizontal position upon the limb, and skillfully worked his way toward the trunk of the tree.

When he reached this he glided as dextrously as a squirrel to the opposite side from which the shot came, where, humping himself up like a coon, he settled down into the hollow formed by the insertion of a huge limb, and carefully listened.

For nearly an hour, not the slightest sound betrayed the presence of a foe. At the end of that time, he detected the crackling of a twig, as though made by the cautious passage of a person. He strained himself to the utmost to catch a glimpse of his enemy, but the dense foliage of the oak prevented.

" You can hunt around in the bushes there as long as you're a mind to, so you don't get another crack at me. If I can only draw bead on your ugly picture once, you'll be sorry that you ever waked up Peter Jenkins. He is a dangerous man when he is once aroused."

DODGING THE BULLETS. 7

Again the speaker ducked his head, for a bullet gouged the limb upon which he was sitting, and glancing upward, shot out into mid-air, with that peculiar sip-zip, made by the passage of a bullet through the foliage of a tree. This second shot so alarmed Jenkins that he nestled still closer to the trunk, hardly daring to even whisper to himself. A half-hour of silence, disturbed only by the distant cawing of a crow, passed away without further incident. Jenkins, gathering courage from the long silence, began to peer cautiously downward, circling his head like the bewildered serpent. Through the interstices of the leaves, he suddenly distinguished two small, starlike eyes, gleaming like a basilisk's from the undergrowth, and fixed with an intense brightness upon himself.

" What infarnal looking eyes ! They shine exactly like Tecumseh's," exclaimed Jenkins, gliding hurriedly to the opposite side of the tree. Here he ensconced himself as securely as circumstances would permit, and again sought for the hiding-place of his enemy. He discovered it instantly, the orbs still fixed, and scintillating with a frightful gleaming.

" If you haven't got more manners than to look at a fellow, like that, I'll teach you," said Jenkins, reaching and feeling above him for his rifle, which he had laid across a couple of limbs. As his hand rested on the stock, a jet of fire flamfcd from the hiding-place of his enemy, and at the same instant a jar shook the rifle in his hand so suddenly, and with sueh a singular, stunning effect, as to unloose his grasp and cause the weapon to fall end over end through the limbs to the ground.

" Well there ! that was well done, if it was a redskin that Jone it. You hit the barrel with your bullet and knocked my gun clean out of my hand before I could use it. The next shot I s'pose will serve me the same way."

If such was Jenkins' expectation, he did his utmost U avoid it, for he ascended still further and concealed himself still more. While gazing in the direction where he judged his enemy to be concealed, the forest again rung with the sharp echo of the latter's rifle, and the messenger of death Whistled so close to the trail-hunter's face, that for an instant he believed he was shot. A moment more, however, showed that he was entirely unharmed

8 THK SHAWNEE SPY.

It was now obvious to Jenkins that whoever had fired i him had purposely missed him. A marksman who had evince such remarkable skill could not have failed so often, required but a moment for Jenkins to satisfy himself of ti meaning of all this. It was a direct summons to surrende and, in his present defenseless state, much as he regretted 1 there was no alternative. He reflected a moment, and the called out ;

" Halloa, you, down there, don't shoot any more. I com to terms ! I surrender, for it can't be helped. But I war you to understand it's a conditional surrender. My rights ai to be respected, my property preserved, and personal safet sworn to. There mustn't be any tomahawks, or knives, o such things in circulation. If these conditions are submitte to, I descend."

He did not wait to receive the reply of his captor, but con menced descending with a wonderful celerity and readiness In a few moments he dropped lightly to the ground, an looked around for his enemy. But no one was to be seei Jenkins' eyes kindled as he beheld his rifle lying upon th ground a few yards away, and he instantly resolved to recove it, and reconsider his " conditional surrender." He glanced fui tively around, and detecting no signs of his foe, stepped hur riedly toward the coveted object. Instantly a deep, rumblinj voice commanded :

" Stop !"

Jenkins felt his hair fairly rise on end at the startling com mand. He wheeled around but still failed to see the speakei Vexation, in part at the whimsical orders to which he wa submitting, now took the place of his fear, and he exclaimed ' "Why don't you show yourself, whoever you are? S'posi you're afraid, the way you're sneaking around. Come ou here like a man, and I'll talk over matters with you."

Jenkins fairly sprung in the air as a low, familiar, taunting laugh reached his ears. At that moment he would havi rather heard the war-whoop of Tecumseh and encounterec him in a hand-to-hand struggle, than have met the man ir whose presence he now stood.

" I know who you are. Come out here."

The next moment the undergrowth parted, and a largq powerfully form ed hunter stepped into view.

THE MABKBMAN. 9

" How are you, Dingle ? Glad to see you !" said Jenkins, stepping forward, and offering his hand.

The person addressed, instead of accepting the proffered hand, placed his own against his side, and, without speaking, looked in Jenkins' face with a faint, tantalizing smile. The latter, disconcerted and vexed, said :

" If you're too proud to shake hands, I don't care ! I'm as good as you are. I can get along without you, I guess !"

" It's a ' conditional surrender,' " said Dingle, without stirring.

" No it isn't, either !" replied Jenkins, catching up his rifle.

" What do you mean ?" demanded Dingle, his brow lower* ing like a thunder-cloud.

Jenkins threw his gun over his shoulder, and, in turn, asked :

" What do you mean, Dick ?"

" Jenkins, you're a pretty good fellow," said Dingle, without heeding the question. " When you first come in these parts you was powerful afraid of the redskins. Ever since that time I've been trying to cure you of it. I don't believe you're as nervous now as you was then, but you've got too much of that thing about you yet."

" What would you have done, Dick, in my place ?"

" Sot still and got shot, before I'd 'ave come down for a red. I don't know though, Jenkins ; you're improving, I think. You was in a bad fix, and you done the best you could. I jest shot to see how you would act. I didn't expect you'd try to shoot me as you did. Yes, Peter, I'm thinking you'll be somethin' one of these days."

" It seems to me it was rather a foolish thing in you, Dingle, to fire when you didn't know but what it would bring down a whole pack of the dogs upon you."

" Dingle did know all about that," significantly replied the latter. " I've been beating all around this neighborhood for the last day or two, and the only trail within ten miles of here is yours and mine. Where have you been ?"

" Up the Sciota Valley, taking observations on the Shawnee towns."

" What did you see ?"

" Nothing uncommon. Things are about the same. They are painting, and yelling, and flinging the tomahawk the same as ever, but I couldn't make out exactly what they intended to do. Have they been up to any of their capers ifl these parts while I Was gone ?"

" Not exactly in these parts, but they've raised thunder down in Tennessee. A whole pack have been tearing through the country, burning houses, blowing up flat-boats, and making a general wiping out."

" Why don't the people rise up in their wrath and devour them ?"

K There ain't enough whites in them regions, and they've sent dp several runners axing us to help 'em pitch into the varmints."

" Is it going to be done ?"

" Going to be done ? In course it is !"

" Who's going to do it ?"

" They've axed old Captain Bill Whitley to scare up a hundred boys and bring 'em down. I've promised him that me and you will go, and he has sot down our names as the Trail-Hunters of the party. In course, there'll be others adoptin' the same profession, but we'll have to do the big business, and ain't there fun ahead ? Whoop I"

The joyous Dingle gave a leap in the air, and executed a sort of double-shuffle in the bushes for a few moments, when he asked :

" What do you think of it, Peter ?"

" I always wanted to be an Indian-fighter like you, Dingle, but there has always been a drawback — a feller is likely to get killed. If I was sure I wouldn't get hurt, wouldn't I walk into the business ? Where is Jim Peterson ? Is he going ?"

" Freeze me to death, do you s'pose he'd go ? He's willing enough, and kind of itches to be off ; but since he's settled down with that Frontier Angel she won't let him think of it. But if these imps keep at their tricks much longer, he and Mansfield have both told me they'll make a free fight of it, sure."

" Wal, I s'pose a man feels different when he gets a pair of white arms around his neck and a couple of blue eyes looking right through him. 'Pears to me / should." And Jenkins assumed a most ludicrous expression of visage, while he wrapped his arms lovingly around his rifl%

A REMINISCENCE. 11

" He does— that's a fact," added Dingle.

" How do you know, Dick ? I heard Peterson once say you'd been married, and the Shawnees done y^u an ugly turn. Is it so ?"

The hunter made no reply for a moment. The stock of his long rifle rested upon the earth, while his arms were folded over the muzzle, and his eyes had the dreamy, vacant look of profound revery. Presently he drew a deep breath and answered, in a voice softened and modulated by feeling :

" I have been married, Jenkins, and I once had a child — a little boy. He was the only one I had. There was Injin blood in his mother's heart, but they didn't spare her for that. When they come on old Wetzel's house, they saved Lew and the other two boys, and wiped out the old folks. It was a long while ago, when Boone and me was young men together. Him and me was off hunting, and it was done while I was gone. They carried 'em both off first, till the little boy told 'em his father's name, when they tomahawked 'em both. Peterson come out in these parts about then, and, as he believed they'd served his gal — that Frontier Angel — the same way, we clapped hands and declared war aginst the whole Injin race. Jim has got his gal back agin, and he has stopped fightin' for awhile. When I get my- boy back I'll stop. But that can't be, and so I expect to fight till I go under by some of 'em."

" Jenkins," resumed Dingle, after a pause, " never agin speak of this as long as I live. If I go under before you, you may tell of it then, but not before." Great, manly tears rolled from his eyes down over his rough cheeks, which he bent over his rifle to hide.

For a few moments not a word was spoken by either. When Dingle looked up his face had lost all traces of emotion, and wore the same stolid expression that characterized it.

" Wal, Jenkins," he said, drawing a deep breath, and throwing his rifle over his shoulder, " it's getting well along, and the clearings are a good tramp from hereabouts. So let's pull up moccasus."

With this the two trail-hunters turned and disappeared in the forest.

THE SHAWNEE SPY.

Chapter II Tiie Interview Us' The Foeest

An unusual commotion was felt along the frontier. In nearly all the settlements there were evidences of excitement. Men were seen hurrying to and fro ; scouts were arriving and departing daily ; now and then an Indian runner made his appearance, and, merely halting, hurried away into the forest again. It was plainly evident that some important movement was on foot.

From Westarn Tennessee the voice of supplication had come. The feeble settlements in that section were exposed to the fury of the savages. Every night the sky was illumined with the flames of cabins, and the agonized shrieks of the white victims pierced the air. First an Indian runner (a faithful Moravian, who had survived the terrible and unholy massacre at Gnadenhutten, by the whites) arrived with a message to William Whitley, imploring him to repair at once to their assistance. This brave man, like a true Kentuckian, without waiting to petition government, instantly pledged himself and called for volunteers.

His own settlement could not be expected to furnish even one-half the required number. He therefore dispatched his scouts to the villages above them on the Ohio, for assistance in the expedition. At the time named the work was only commenced, but it was progressing nobly. The inhabitant of Ohio or Kentucky was never the one to resist the appeal of the weak and suffering.

The settlement to which we ask particular attention for ft time, is the seat of Captain Whitley's operations, and which may properly be termed his head-quarters. It was built much after the manner of the Old Fort at Boonesborough : that iSj a wall of buildings and palisades inclosed and protected the ■village. It had two gates, constantly guarded, as also were

the forts at the corners. The -whole arrangements of forts and houses were a model of a frontier settlement.

Within the inclosure -were some thirty or forty cabins, clumsy and unsightly, but precisely what their inhabitants desired. They were built without regard to appearance, and were located according to the taste of their builders. On ane side of the Tillage, about a dozen rods distant, flowed the Ohio, while on the opposite stretched the almost interminable forests and cane-brakes of Kentucky. The intervening clearing was dotted by black, charred stumps which the fire had failed to destroy.

On the day in question, the gates were thrown open, and the forms of men were constantly passing and repassing through them. Now and then the painted plumes of a savage llitted among the somber-looking whites, and, on several occasions, their long, thrilling signals awoke the forest-echoes. Par down the gleaming Ohio, canoes were moving like tiny birds in the distance. Animation was visible in every countenance, and promptness in every movement. Prominent among the settlers was the gallant Dingle, moving to and fro, and assisting as much by his counsel as by his actions. His tall, muscular form was ever conspicuous.

But, to an ordinary observer, Peter Jenkins would have seemed the most important. He really appeared to be omnipresent. Now giving some parting word to one as he rowed away in a canoe ; hurrying across the clearing to communicate with some returning scout ; asking of the most prominent whether "it wasn't best to wear uniform," and also if "it wouldn't be a good plan to kill every Indian in the country." Several times he might be heard giving orders to those around him. The only difficulty in the latter case was that no one gave the least heed to them.

All through the day the din and confusion of preparation went on. Captain Whitley himself had the majority of volunteers on a broad space wTithin the clearing, where he was putting them through all sorts of movements, drills and maneuvers, which could possibly come in use in the contemplated expedition. His eye sparkled with exultation as he saw their enthusiasm and the aptness with which all his orders were executed. There was not a laggard in the whole

settlement,

14 THE SHAWNEE SPT.

As night settled over the wood, all drew within the palisades, the gates were closed, every thing secured, and the sentinels stationed. There was no expectation of an attack, but the habit of caution had almost become an instinct on the frontier, both among the settlers and Indians. Captain Whitley advised all who were not on guard to retire for the night ; but the thoughts of the morrow were too strong and exciting to permit slumber to visit many. The majority, after a time, withdrew to the cabins, while others clustered in groups, and spent the night in speculations upon their future .movements.

An hour or so before midnight, the faint call of the whippowil was heard in the forest. Almost immediately the form of a female emerged from a cabin, at one extremity of the village, and made her way toward the western gate. She stole her way carefully along, as if fearing observation. When at the gate, she shrunk silently within its shadow, where she remained a few moments, as though irresolute and undecided. In a moment, she uttered a suppressed call to the sentinel.

" Hello, Miss Maude, is that you ?" was the call in return.

" Yes ; hurry and let me through."

"I don't know, Maude, whether I should. I shouldn't wonder if there's somebody in them woods besides Monowano. I heard his call just now, but, confound them Shawnees, there's no trusting them."

" Let me out, Tom ; there's no danger, I assure you."

" The fact is, you know, I've got orders not to open this gate after nightfall for white or red. Howsumever, I believe it's generally understood that we are to let you go. So hurry along with you, and don't remain in the woods too long, or you may be shut out for the night."

With this, the sentinel carefully withdrew the bolt, and Maude glided quickly out. She sped across the clearing, and, in a moment, disappeared in the wood. Within this, she hurried some twenty or thirty rods, and then paused beside a large fallen tree. A moment after, a light step was heard, and a lithe, graceful form, clad in the habiliments of an Indian warrior, glided beside her.

" I heard your call, Monowano," she said, as the Indian took

MONOWANO. IB

her hand, " but I was delayed so long at the gate that I feared you had gone."

" Monowano never fled from the light of the Evening Star,'- replied the warrior, using the figurative language of his race, and giving to Maude the name by which he always addressed her. " When the light of morning comes, and the star of the evening departs, then Monowano seeks the home of his people."

" Have you seen the preparations to march against you ?"

" Monowano has hid in the woods, and from his seat in the tree-tops counted their number. They are many, and when the other Long Knives unite, they will drive back the Shawaee warriors from the Ohio."

" And what will you do in this struggle ?"

" These hands of mine," said the warrior, pressing those of Maude, " have never shed the blood of a pale-face, and shall never be raised against him."

" Will you fight with our people ?"

The savage started, as if stung, and quickly replied :

"And never shall Monowano fight against the Shawnees. <3e shall befriend both people. When the red-men gather like the autumn-leaves in the forest-hollows, he shall warn the pale-faces ; and when the Shawnee sleeps, and dreams of hia squaw and children, and the Long Knife steals like the serpent upon him, Monowano shall shout and save his kindred."

" Be careful," said Maude, lowering her voice ; " the whites arc angry, and they will kill you if they suspect you help four people."

" Monowano is known to his white brothers, and can he not die for his people ?" asked the savage, haughtily. " If the pale-faces seek to slay him, he cares not."

" They will not," said Maude, affectionately, " unless you provoke them. Don't do it, Monowano, for my sake. Will you remain here when they go forth ?"

"When the Long Knives take the war-path, Monowano will follow them, as the dog follows the deer. He will never slumber."

" I do not fear—"

" Hist !" inteiTupted the Indian, turning his head ; " somo one watches."

Both listened, but Maude heard nothing, save the beating of her own heart, and the faint sighing of the wind oveihead. Her attendant had drawn his knife, and stood in that crouching, panther-like attitude of intense attention, in which one of those curious similarities between the animal and Indian is so plainly brought out. The light of the moon, piercing the tree-tops, shone full upon his face, revealing one of singular beauty. His brows were contracted, and his head bent, so that the ornamented scalp-lock suffered the eagle-feathers to dangle before his waist. One arm was rigid, and closed tightly over his knife, while the other rested upon the handle of his tomahawk at his waist. Neither stirred for a few moments, when Maude asked :

" Do you hear any thing more ?"

" He has fled. Some one has heard our words, and will spread them to the winds. It is well that he is not here now."

The Indian replaced his knife as he spoke, and turned toward Maude. The latter, looking up in his face, asked :

" When shall I see you again ?"

Her companion pointed at the moon, now in its crescent.

" When she is full and round, and lights up the war-path which the Long Knives have taken, and the Shawnees have fled before them, then Monowano will return. When the shadows fall upon the forest, and the whippowil calls, let the Evening Star shed its light for Monowano."

" She will ever listen for the song of the whippowil, for it is the sweetest song of all the birds of the wood."

" And the light of the Evening Star is the life of Monowano," added the Indian, his eyes flashing with the warmth of his words.

For a half-hour longer the two conversed, each heart glowing with love and affection for the other, and yet no demonstration, more than the mere pressing of the hands of Maude by her Indian lover, was offered. Finally, they separated as silently as they had come together ; the warrior disappeared like a shadow in the wood, and the maiden sped noiselessly across the clearing to the gate, where the sentinel admitted her, and she hurried to her own cabin.

Monowano was the name of one who was well known to the settlement referred to in this chapter. He was supposed to be the son of a chieftain of the Shawnees ; but his singular

MAUDE. 17

beauty led many to the supposition that he was part white. Others affirmed he was a younger brother of Tecumseh, who was coming into notice at this time. He was of the same stature and form as that renowned chief, and was as graceful and athletic in his movements. He was always clothed in the gaudy dress of the sachems, with a head-dress of eagle feathers dyed in many brilliant colors. The majority believed him to be a devoted friend to the whites, but there were not wanting a number who secretly envied the savage his popularity, and did their utmost against him. They reported him a spy, and assured their credulous friends that the time would come when his treachery would evince itself. This feeling of distrust and suspicion had gained considerable ground during the last few weeks. The unusual absence of the Indian, together with the petition from the settlers in West Tennessee for succor, confirmed many in the belief that he was in league with the hostile Shawnees. In short, Monowano had been made aware that he would be running a great risk by showing himself to the settlers in their present state of feeling.

About a year before, while in the settlement, this Indian participated in a drill of the militia, and discovered a wonderful amount of military knowledge, imparting to the whites many useful hints in regard to the execution of different maneuvers and stratagems. This rendered him a person of Importance in the eyes of the settlers, and, at the same time, an object of suspicion to the few referred to. It was on this occasion that he became acquainted with Maude Burland, an orphan, and the ward of a Mr. Mordaunt, one of the most influential settlers. The handsome, manly form of the Indian made its impression upon the heart of Maude ; and, at the same time, he did not strive to conceal his admiration for the modest, dark-eyed maiden. Mordaunt detected the attachment at once, and endeavored to prevent its consummation ; but he soon saw that this was impossible, and, like a sensible man, said no more about it.

For a while Monowano visited Maude at her home in the settlement ; but he never felt easy under the suspicious glances of those around him, and ever since the snow had melted from the forest, the two had met within it. Twice every week the Indian's signal was heard by the sentinels, and

18 THE SHAWNEE SP1.

Maude was allowed to pass out of the gates to him. In spite of the suspicion attending his movements, he had not failed to enter occasionally the village, until the last few weeks, during which time none but Maude had seen him.

Chapter III

" The morn brought the marshaling in arms," and the day, " battle's magnificently stern array." Ere the sun was fairly above the wilderness, the whole settlement was in commotion. A runner had arrived during the night with the intelligence that the depredations of the Shawn ees were continued, and the people, such as were able, were arming themselves. Colonel Orr had promised to meet Captain Whitley, at a rendezvous which the latter had appointed, with five hundred volunteers, and the utmost dispatch was required.