The Pioneer Boys on the Mississippi

53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.

"'THE PRECIOUS WAMPUM BELT, SANDY!' HE CRIED."

See page 332.

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The Young Pioneer Series

THE PIONEER BOYS

OF THE MISSISSIPPI

OR: THE HOMESTEAD IN THE WILDERNESS

By HARRISON ADAMS

Author of "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio," "The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes," etc.

Illustrated by

H. RICHARD BOEHM

BOSTON, U. S. A.

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PREFACE

Dear Boys:-Those of you who have read the earlier volumes in this series of backwoods stories may remember that I half-promised to follow the "Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes" with a third volume. I now have the pleasure of presenting that story to you. In it you will renew your acquaintance with the two stout-hearted lads of the border, Bob and Sandy Armstrong, as well as several other characters you met before, some of whose names have become famous, and are recorded in the history of those early days that "tried men's souls." Besides this, there are some new characters introduced, who, I hope, will appeal to your interest.

It was hardly to be expected that such a restless spirit as that of David Armstrong, the Virginia pioneer who built his log cabin on the bank of the beautiful Ohio, would long rest contented when wonderful stories constantly reached his ears concerning the astonishing fertility of the black soil, as well as the abundance of fur-bearing animals, to be found in the valley of the great river which De Soto had discovered-the mighty Mississippi; and, as you will learn, his first serious set-back caused him to start upon another long pilgrimage toward the "Promised Land."

It was this constant rivalry among the early settlers, this never-ending desire to find better homesteads in the new country, always toward the setting sun, that gradually peopled our Middle West, and finally reached out far across the plains to the shore of the Pacific.

Trusting that you may enjoy reading the present volume, and that at no distant day we may again renew our acquaintance, believe me, dear readers, to be,

Cordially yours,

Harrison Adams.

May 1st, 1913.

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CONTENTS

"Paddle harder, brother. The current is stronger than I ever knew it to be before."

"But, Bob, we must be very near the place where we always land when we come over to look after our traps?"

"Once we are in the lee of that point ahead, Sandy, we can go ashore. The river is so high that it's hard to recognize the old landmarks."

"Both together, then, Bob. There! that looks like business! and, just as you say, our dugout can lie safely under the shelter of that tongue of land, while we're off 'tending our traps. Another week, and we must stop setting any snares, for the fur will be getting poor; so Pat O'Mara said the last time he came to the settlement."

Five minutes later, the two Armstrong boys sprang ashore on the Ohio side of the river, at a little distance below the spot where, across the now unusually wide stream, their parents, together with other bold pioneers from Virginia, had, not more than a year before, started a frontier settlement.[1]

The clumsy, but staunch boat, fashioned from the trunk of a tree, was drawn partly out of the water. They had made the passage of the river with considerable hard labor, because of the vast volume of water which the heavy spring rains had brought out of the hills all the way up to and beyond old Fort Duquesne.[2]

Both boys were dressed after the fashion of that time among hunters and trappers, who, scorning the homespun clothes of the Virginia settlers, found garments made of buckskin, not unlike those worn by many of the Indians, to give them the best service when roaming the great forests that stretched from the Alleghanies, off to the border of the mighty Mississippi, in the "Land of the Setting Sun."

Having picked up their guns, the brothers started through the thick woods; but not before Sandy, the younger, had cast a last wistful look back at the swollen waters of the Ohio, that, seen in the dull light of the overcast afternoon, flowed steadily toward the west. Truth to tell, that unknown western region was drawing the thoughts of the pioneer boy very much of late; and, even as he tramped along at the side of Bob, his first words told how he envied the rushing waters that were headed into the country he longed to see.

"Abijah Cook is back at the settlement for a short spell, I heard Mr. Harkness say," he remarked, with a long sigh that caused his brother to turn an uneasy glance in his direction.

"And has he given up ranging the woods with young Simon Kenton?" the older boy asked.

"Oh! no; but he brought his winter's catch of pelts in for Mr. Harkness to dispose of, when he found the chance," Sandy replied.

"And I suppose the old woodranger has been talking again about the region of the Mississippi," remarked Bob, who could guess what was on the mind of his brother.

"Well," Sandy went on, "Abijah has seen that wonderful country, and he knows how different it is from this hilly place, where the corn washes down the sides of the slopes whenever a big rain comes. Out there it is mostly prairie, and the soil, he says, is black and rich. It will grow maize twice as high as your head. The stories he tells of what he saw on those prairies fairly make my heart ache."

"But Sandy, you must try to forget all that," returned Bob, who often found it necessary to restrain his impatient young brother. "You are needed at home, for father is not able to hunt and trap, besides taking care of his crops. Nobody in the whole settlement brings in as much game as you do. Wait a few years, and then, when we are grown men, perhaps we may strike out for that country you have been hearing so much about; where De Soto discovered the greatest of rivers, and lies buried under its waters."

Sandy sighed again.

"I suppose I must wait, just as you say, Bob," he observed, "but it may not be for years, as you seem to think. Already some of the men are beginning to talk of making a flatboat, and floating down the Ohio until they reach the father of all the waters. They do not like the idea of the rascally French taking possession of all that fine land, which is a part of our own Virginia. And it may not be so very long before we will lose some of our people in that way." (Note 1.)[3]

These brave men, who had already successfully braved the dangers that beset them on their journey across the mountains to the Ohio valley, had heard stories from the lips of trappers who had penetrated far into the western land in pursuit of the rich skins of otter, beaver, fox, mink and marten. When their crops failed to turn out as well as they had anticipated, a spirit of unrest began to pervade the little community; and these wonderful tales were repeated, from lip to lip, always with a longing to obtain a glimpse of the country that offered such astonishing opportunities.

It was this spirit of unrest that peopled our great West. Those who found themselves out-distanced in the race, unwilling that others should get ahead, gave up their holdings, partly improved as they might be, and once more started out to get in the van of the procession headed toward the setting sun.

"Do you think we will have any trouble getting back to the other shore of the river, this afternoon?" Sandy asked, after they had walked along for a few minutes in silence, headed for the first of their traps.

"I admit that I don't just like the way we were buffeted around on the voyage over," replied Bob; "and, if the waters keep on rising to-night, as I think they are going to, we will not be able to visit our traps on this side for several days."

"Then had we better take them along with us?" asked Sandy.

"No, they would bother us in the dugout," replied Bob; then, noticing the quick glance his brother shot in his direction, he added: "Yes, I am figuring on the chance of our boat being upset in the flood; and, if that happened, we'd have all we could do to save ourselves and our guns, let alone half a dozen heavy traps. They can stay here until we find a chance to cross again, after the water goes down."

"But, I wonder if Colonel Boone knew about such a thing as a flood when he led us to where the settlement now stands?" remarked Sandy, with a frown. "Because, if the water rises very much more, we, as well as some of the other settlers, stand to lose our cabin. Already the water has covered the land where open fields lay, ready to be planted in maize this spring. All Mr. Bancroft's new fence has been taken down, to save it from being swept away."

"No, I do not believe such a rise has been known for many years," Bob went on to say. "You know how it flows between banks that are covered with trees. These countless hills are crowned with great forests, and under the trees the ground is carpeted with moss and dead leaves. This is like a great sponge, father says, that soaks up the water during rainy seasons, and lets it out again in time of drought. I heard him say only this morning that the Indians never knew of a flood like this one. They believe that the Great Spirit is angry because they have not driven the palefaces from Kentucky. And there will be a renewal of the fighting, after this rainy spell is over, he fears." (Note 2.)

"Well, here's where we set our first trap," Sandy cried. "And the next is only a short distance along the trail. I'll take a look at this one, while you go on and attend to the next."

"That is the best way, Sandy," returned Bob, with a quick glance toward the darkening heavens. "I do not like the looks of those clouds, and it may be that the rain will set in again. If that happens, we would find it all we could do to make a safe passage across the river, for the darkness will fall early to-night."

"And we must not forget to keep our eyes open for a sight of those rascally French trappers, Jacques Larue and Henri Lacroix," remarked Sandy, with a suggestive movement of his gun. "They have been reported as being seen not far away from here of late, and you know, Bob, they have never forgiven us the way we managed to outwit Larue last fall, and bring Henri Lacroix's brother to justice."[4]

"But they also know," Bob replied, "that because you and I were able to do the great Indian sachem, Pontiac, a favor, he gave us his wampum belt, which has served to keep the Indians who were on the war-path away from our little settlement. Those Frenchmen understand that, if either of us were hurt, the Indians would visit vengeance on the head of the guilty party. Larue learned that before he escaped from the Indians." (Note 3.)

The boys had learned that Jacques Larue had loosened his bonds and escaped from his Indian captors through the connivance of a young buck for whom he had once performed some service, and was again free to work with Henri Lacroix such damage against the latest English settlers as their evil minds might suggest.

"I am convinced it was they who robbed our traps several times this winter, so that we had to change their location," Sandy declared, indignantly. "And, when that brush was piled up against our cabin, that dark night, and fired, did we not find tracks that were never made by Indian feet? I seem to feel that we have not seen the last of those French trappers. And Pat O'Mara told me that, if ever I had to shoot to defend myself against either of them, to get the full value of my lead!"

"Well, let us hope that they will go elsewhere, and do their trapping," said Bob, as he turned and left his brother. "I think it is a great pity that, with a string of trading posts all the way from the big lakes down to the sea, these greedy French from the North cannot let us alone here. They seem to want the earth. But I'll wait for you at the second trap, Sandy. Be as quick as you can."

Sandy made no reply, but hastened forward to where they had set the first trap. He was filled with thoughts of the stories he had heard connected with the Mississippi country, and he pictured in his mind the loveliest scene that could ever greet the eager eyes of a pioneer-game waiting to be shot and trapped; the earth so rich that it would grow bountiful crops upon being simply stirred; the fields glorious with myriads of wild flowers; and all to be had by simply reaching out a hand and taking possession, in defiance of the French, who claimed everything from the far North to the gulf.

He found in the trap a fine red fox, which he succeeded in knocking on the head without injuring the pelt. Laying his gun aside, Sandy started to reset the trap, believing that, as it seemed to be a lucky place, perhaps the mate of the fox might come along, and also step into the steel circle.

As he began his task, an accident occurred that had never happened to Sandy before in all his trapping experience, and probably never would again. In some manner, which he could not fully explain, in turning around to secure something, he managed to thrust his foot into the set trap, which he had quite forgotten.

There was a snap, and an acute feeling of pain that caused the boy to give a startled cry. His heavy leggings saved him to a great extent from the cruel teeth of the trap, for at that time the smooth jaws now in universal use had not come into vogue; but the boy knew he would have a sore ankle for some days because of his carelessness.

Sandy tried to get at the trap to release himself, and found that, because of the formation of the ground at that particular spot, it would prove a difficult task. He persisted in his efforts, however, and refrained from calling out to his brother, not wishing the more cautious Bob to learn what a foolish thing he had done.

He was still striving to squirm around so as to get at the double spring, and by pressure release his foot, when he heard a sound close by that riveted his attention. Looking up, what was the boy's dismay to discover a creeping animal gradually drawing closer and closer to him.

It needed only that one look to tell Sandy that he was being stalked by one of the most dreaded animals of the forest, a gray panther, that had evidently scented the blood of the captured fox, and was bent on securing a supper.

"HE WAS BEING STALKED BY ONE OF THE MOST DREADED ANIMALS OF THE FOREST, A GRAY PANTHER."

Of course, Sandy's first thought was of his musket. He remembered placing this against a neighboring tree, and, sure enough, it still stood there; but, when he made a movement to reach the weapon, he found to his dismay that the chain of the fox trap was too short to allow his fingers to come within a foot of the gun!

In vain he writhed and pulled; the trap had been made only too secure, and Sandy realized that there was nothing he could do but lift up his lusty young voice in an appeal for help.

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