MEYERSDALE COMMERCIAL, THURSDAY, MARCH 14, 1929
The Red FE oad
4 Romance of ZA > oeded
Braddock: Defeat lx
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Dy
Hu6H PENDEXTER
Mustrations
lawin Myers
by
THE STORY
CHAPTER I—Impoverished by the
open-handed generosity of his father,
Virginia gentleman, young
uquesne. He has just returned to
Alexandria from a visit to the fort,
where, posing as a Frenchman, he nas
secured valuable information. Brad-
dock, bred to European warfare, fails
Brond is sent back to.Fort Duquesne,
aiso bearing a message to George
Croghan, English emissary among the
Indians. 3
and fellow scout, Round Paw, Indian
chief, and they set out. On the way
they fall in with a typical backswoods-
man, Balsar Cromit, who joins them.
The party encounters a group of set-
tlers threatening a young girl, Elsie
Dinwold, whom they accuse of witch-
craft. Brond saves her from them. The
girl disappears.
CHAPTER III—Webster delivers his
message to Croghan, who expresses un-
easiness at the apathy of the Indians
the English cause. Young Col
‘Washin
nglish soldiers.
.n a fight, and finds
Elsie Dinwold. Brond is sent on a
scouting expedition to Fort Duquesne,
and leaves with Round Paw. Cromit
Joins them.
CHAPTER IV—They find a_ French
scouting party besieging an old cabin
defended apparently by a single man.
Brond and Cromit make their way to
the cabin. The “man” is Elsie Dinwold.
A French officer and an Indian break
in the door. Cromit kills the Indian and
Brond takes the Frenchman alive. Elsis
escapes during the fight. Brond’s cap-
tive is Lieutenant Beauvais. The scout
sends him as a prisoner, with Cromit,
to Braddock’s camp, again taking his
way to Duquesne, and to seek Elsie.
CHAPTER V—Carrying out his plan
|to enter the fort unquestioned, Brond
Iresolves to visit an Indian town which
'a woman sachem, Allaquippa, controls.
She is friendly to the English. The
scouts, as French, are plainly unwel-
|come to Allaquippa. Brond meets a
{French officer, Falest, whom he had
‘known at Duquesne. Falest is there
[to win over Allaquippa to the French
but he fails. To his astonish-
Brond finds Elsie Dinwold,
an, under Allaquippa’s
cause,
he English cruel, and is going
to the French. Unable to dissuade her,
Brond tells her of his mission to Du-
quesne, and she promises not to be-
tray him. They learn Beauvais has es-
caped from Cromit and is on his way
to Duquesne. Brond realizes he must be
stopped.
CHAPTER VI—Cromit comes t
.Brond while he is waiting to inter-
|eept Beauvais, and tells him he has
killed the Frenchman after he had es-
caped from him. Round Paw joins
them, and the three return to Alla-
quippa’s town. Cromit has brought dis-
quieting news of the demoralization
of Braddock’s army, none of the Eng-
lish officers understanding woods fight-
ing, and Braddock fiercely resenting
advice of the “Provincials.” Cromit,
separated from his two friends, is wel-
comed by Allaquippa as an inglish-
man. Leaving him to carry news to the
English army, Brond and Round Paw
reach Duquesne. Brond is made wel-
come, Beaujeu, commander of the fort,
believing him a loyal Frenchman. He
learns Beauvais is not dead, Cromit
having killed Falest, taking him for
the other French officer, Brond real-
izes he is in deadly peril. He decides
to get away at once, and tells Elsie,
who has come to the fort with Beau-
| vais, but it is too late.
CHAPTER VII—At a dinner given
by Beaujeu to his officers Brond is
recognized and denounced by Beauvals
as an English spy. He is rescued by
Round aw. With the Indian, and
Elsie, Brond escapes by the river, Elsie
having destroyed all the canoes she
could reach, to delay pursuit. Leaving
the water, Brond sends Round Paw
with a message to the army warning
of danger of ambush if they take the
!epurtle Creek” route to the fort. Then,
with Elsie, a great handicap to swift
traveling, he takes a different route to
the army, in the hope that either Round
Paw, Cromit, or himself, will get
through safely with the warning.
CHAPTER VIlI—Brond realizes a
party of pursuing Indians is on their
trail. The girl, having reached the
limit of her endurance, has to be car-
ried by Brond. They make for the
cabin of a trader, Frazier, hoping with
his help to stand off pursuers. Reach-
ing the cabin safely, they find Frazier
away, but Elsie helps greatly in the
defense of the place. They succeed in
beating off the attacking Indians, and
during a heavy rain, which saves them,
ape. Elsie's bravery and loyalty
make a deep impression on Brond. In
the woods they meet a veteran Vir-
ginia forest fighter, Stephen Gist, re-
turning from a scouting expedition.
CHAPTER IX—Gist repeats Cromit's
tale of demoralization among the Eng-
lish regulars. Round Paw joins_the
party and they reach the army. Elsie
refuses to seek safety in the rear, in-
sisting on -taying and sharing Brond’s
dangers. Braddock ignores Brond's
warning of danger. Brond again meets
Colonel Washington, who confesses
his misgivings of the success of the
expedition. Attacked in the forest by
ractically invisible enemies, the Eng-
sh regulars are thrown into con-
fusion. A disorderly retreat begins
when Braddock is killed. Washington
and his Virginians hold back the en-
emy, preventing annihilation. Brond
lace of safety for Elsie. Round
) Cromit are both killed, Brond,
ba wounded, escaping with
other fugitives. He is unable to find
Elsie in the confusion.
CHAPTER X—The provinces are
stunned by the news of the disaster.
‘fhe English army is withdrawn to
New York, leaving the provincials to
the victorious savages,
Brond recovers
s and joins in the de-
fense of the frontier. The situation is
pot relieved until General Forbes
through to Duquesne.
Then Brond continues his search for
Rlsie Dinwold, realizing he loves her,
and believing his love returned. In a
hamlet he finds one of the men in
whose charge he had left the girl. He
tells Brond Elsie went to Alexandria,
and Brond at once leaves for that city.
There he meets a boyhood friend,
{Josephine Hewitt. She has befriended
Elsie and given her a home. Brond
geeks her, and finds a happy ending of
this quest when Elsie, in is arms,
whispers, “Oh, mister. You've come
pack!”
Webster |
Brond is serving as a scout and s)y |
for the army under General Braddock |
Preparing for the advance on Fort |
to realize the importance of the news. |
CHAPTER I1.—Brond joins his friend
he .
a
~
=x)
Esa
“It was a rifle.
careful.”
“] know a rifle when I hear it.
That’s what I mean, mister.”
1 listened and heard it. It was
‘thunder beyond any doubt. 1 opened
the door a crack and scanned the
| heavens. There was no storm in sight.
| “It’s up the Monongahela, I told her.
| “It’s so far off I fear we won't get
| even the skirt of it.”
We needed much of it; not only to
‘drench the cabin but to cool the air
‘inside. With the door closed and the
stout shutter in place over the one
small opening that served as a win-
dow it was blood-hot in the cabin.
: The place was so insufferable from
| smoke and powder fumes and the
| heat that I risked a chance shot from
‘the forest by removing the shutter
and opening the door. The thunder
rolled across the sky again and the
girl sighed:
“Let's wish it’s a smart one and will
come this way.”
I made her drink some water and
with a pewter dish bathed her wrists
and slim neck. She complained that
I was wasting it, and in the next mo-
ment was on the point of weeping as
she said nd one had been kind to her,
‘except her crippled uncle, since her
mother’s death. 1 brushed back her
hair and bathed her forehead and
washed the smoke and grime from her
face and tried to be very gentle with
her. I was beginning to realize what
a slip of a thing she was to be par-
ticipating in such grim tragedies. I
also appreciated her sturdy spirit.
Suddenly she drew away from me
and rearranged her hair and diffident-
ly said:
“You've been master kind to me,
mister. I wish I was a witch, like
folks in Great cove say. [I'd change
you into a hoss, or a bird, and you'd
git clear of all this.”
“Sit here, just inside the door, while
1 stand watch. I've never had a
| chance to wait on such a brave little
‘woman before.”
“Boo! That's fooling,” she scoffed,
and eyeing me in surprise. “You've
been in big settlements. You've seen
women, mebbe, who never see a Injun.
"All they have to do is be brave. If I
had a pair of shoes like what some of
‘them settlement women most likely
‘wear, I'd die fighting to keep 'em.”
“If we get out of this, you shall have
the gayest pair of shoes to be found
in Alexandria,” I promised, and I
thought of Josephine and her love of
luxury and wondered how she would
have endured the ordeal of being cor-
nered in a trader’s cabin at the mouth
of Turtle creek.
“J ain’t used to have folks give me
things,” she gravely told me. “We'll
have to think about that.” Then shy-
ly: “Is that where you want me to
20? To Alexandria, a real big settle-
ment?”
In truth, 1 had given no thought
as to just where she should go did we
escape. Yet how could I give her a
pair of shoes in Alexandria if she
werq not there to receive them?
“1f I go back there, yes. I have no
‘home there now. Like yourself, I am
homeless.”
This pleased her and she snuggled
against my knee and murmured:
“I'm thinking it’s mighty good that
you're like that—no home. You can
build a home anywhere. All you need
is an ax and some trees. If you'd had
a home, you'd never have come poking
round Great cove. Lor’s lovel What
would have happened to me if you
hadn't come along? At Will's creek,
too. And in that other cabin, when I
run away. And now here.”
“You have nothing to thank me for,”
1 sadly told her. “At all those places
you name, you have had trouble be-
cause 1 did go to the cove. Now we'll
close the door while I take a look at
the woods from the back of the cabin.
The Indians are too quiet to suit me.”
I bent down to the loophole and
immediately called to her to make
sure the bar was firmly in place.
“Another fight,” she sighed. “And
we was having such a talk!”
I heard her reloading her rifle, but
did not remove my eye from the hole.
Something was slowly approaching
the cabin. For a moment I could
not make it out, and then glimpsed
the top of a teather showing above
the strange object. Simultaneously
with my discovery, the Indians be-
gan firing their guns at the front
of the cabin and yelling. I paid no
heed to the gunfire and the shouting,
for the real menace was where the
feather bobbed and slowly advanced
She elbowed me aside and after a
glance informed me:
“They've fastened some of the skins
together and are holding them in
front ‘of them. Wonder if it'll stop a
bullet.”
I fired my rifle. The moving bar-
ricade stopped, and then came on
again, The savage, or savages, had
We must be more
|
|
|
as
‘der.
‘like a child, striving to conquer her-
- the rain.
difficulty in keeping it in place and
their approach was very slow. Exult-
ing cries resounded from the’ woods
the hidden watchers witnessel
how ineffective had been my bullet.
It seemed to be a very long time
that I waited, and finally noted how
dark the interior of the cabin was
growing. Had I not known the posi-
tion of the sun, I would have said it
was later than the twilight hour.
“I can’t hardly see you, mister,” said
the girl uneasily. “You look all
bumped over like a bear.”
There came a flare of light through
the loopholes that lit up her pale face
‘vividly, and then a tremendous crash
and the cabin seemed to rock under
the vibrations. Afraid it was too good
to be true, I stepped to the small win-
dow, set high under the eaves, and
looked up to the heavens. I could
have shouted aloud in joy as I beheld
the mighty wall of black and slate
‘towering almost to the zenith with its
'lead-colored draperies dragging on the
‘horizon.
While we had talked and watched
for danger the storm had swept down
the river and was upon us. The open-
ing grew dusky and it would have
‘been an easy task for the savages
to have crawled close in the uncertain
light. Again the Thunder-god hurled
'a spear at the water-serpent and the
noise of the contest transcended all
earth sounds. A strange moaning ran
through the forest-crown and lofty
tops bowed and swayed although as
yet there was no air moving in the
opening.
“I'm thinking it's going to rain,”
remarked the girl in a faint voice.
“Thank God, yes! Stay back there
to see they try no tricks,” I cau-
tioned as she came toward me.
The lightning ripped across the face
‘of the clouds, and the girl gave a lit-
tle squeal. I went to her to learn
what was the matter.
“Not Injuns,” she whispered. “I'm
thinking I’m scared of these sort of
storms,”
It seemed impossible that one who
‘had shown such absolute control of
nerves could be frightened by a flash
of lightning and the rumble of thun-
And yet she was clinging to me
self, yet keeping her face pressed
against my fringed sleeve so as not
to see the glare of the bolts. I en-
‘deavored to soothe away her fears
by telling her the storm was our best
friend; that it would make the cabin
fire-proof, that it would compel the
Indians to keep their guns covered
and their bow-strings protected from
But as I talked I could feel
her wince convulsively each time the
god renewed the ancient strife.
With a deafening roar the rain
came battering against the cabin. It
was impossible to distinguish an ob-
ject fifty feet from the door. Now was
the time for the enemy to attack and
cut ‘their way into us and finish us
with their belt weapons. Raising my
voice about the terrific drumming of
the rain, I told the girl:
“Well go. The rain will wash out
our trail. Find something to wrap
around the rifles.”
She found some oiled skins and we
wrapped them about our rifles. 1
opened the door. The water was falling
The Water Was Falling in Torrents
and the Wind Was Blowing With
Great Velocity.
in torrents and the wind was blowing
with great velocity. Closing the door,
we were plastered against the walls
for a moment by the force of the wind.
I sought to shelter her by holding her
close to my side; and leaning against
the sterm, we made for the woods.
We could not talk and we scarcely
could see because of the rain filling
our faces. We bath realized that such
a downpour could not last long. Our
progress was slow, but finally 1 was
waist-deep in some cherry bushes. We
fought through these and came to drip-
ping trees and entered among them.
The uproar of the storm suddenly
lessened now that we were walking
on ancient forest mold and were shel-
tered from the wind. Rivulets of wa-
ter ran under our feet and there was
no need to hide our trail until we were
two miles in the woods. We were as
wet as two river-rats.
It became strangely quiet in the drip-
ping woods and we no longer shouted
to make ourselves ‘heard. How the
storm was raging outside we could
only guess. I feared it was abating.
“They'll lose some time, mister, in
making sure we're not in the cabin,”
the girl philosophically remarked.
“And it’s gitting so dark they can’t
find our tracks even if we do leave
some.”
“We must find a place under a rock
where we can make a fire and you
ean dry out.” .
She laughed at me, and her voice
was most musical because it was
natural.
“Hard work to drown a witch,” she
said. “I’ve fared hard before this and
didn’t mind it.”
I remembered those days when the
House of the Open Hand entertained
and when beauty must be gently
wrapped in water-proof coverings and
sent home in coaches. This wild young
creature at my side had done a man’s
work and more. She was made up of
the outdoors.
It grew very dark, and without stars
to guide us we would have wandered
blindly if not for a little run that we
stumbled upon and which I remem-
bered flowed parallel to Turtle creek.
We took to the water, knee-deep be-
cause of the rain, and worked our way
upstream by clutching at the over-
hanging boughs. We finally left the
stream where a windfall had smoth-
ered it. By the ‘sense of touch alone
I found a spot clear of brush and un-
dergrowth and informed my companion
we must wait for daylight before pro-
ceeding. 1 could find no dry fuel, even
had I dared to build a fire.
“We have water, but no fire nor
food,” I told her.
“You're wrong, mister, about food.
I fetched this along,” she answered;
and her hands found mine with a
small package wrapped in deerskin.
It was some of Frazier's smoked
meat which she had had the fore-
thought to bring along. It was tough,
but it was food, and we chewed it
vigorously and felt the better for hav-
ing eaten it.
“Lean against me,” I commanded.
“It'll be dreary waiting.”
“Not so dreary as when we was in
the cabin, waiting,” she replied. And
her head rested agecinst my shoulder
and very soon I rejoiced to find she
was asleep.
When she was entirely oblivious to
our discomforts, I shifted her into
my lap, and thus we passed the night;
she sleeping the sleep of utter exhaus-
tion and I afraid to move lest I dis-
turb her. Near morning I dozed off
and was aroused by her hand pressing
lightly on my shoulder. I came to my
feet and rubbed my legs and arms to
drive out the kinks and cramps. She
whispered for me to make no noise,
and I noted she had removed the cov-
erings from the guns.
“What is it?” I murmured, a terri-
ble rage sweeping over me as I glared
about to discover the relentless foe.
She shook her head and said:
“I thought I heard something mov-
ing toward us.” Footsteps would fall
softly on the wet ground, and, after
listening without hearing anything, 1
told her:
“Some animal got the scent of us
and turned tail.”
Her small hand gripped my arm for
silence. Men were coming. I heard a
voice say something in the Delaware
tongue. She pulled her Highland pis--
tol from her blouse and noiselessly re-
moved its wrapping. Then her hand,
found mine and gave it a convulsive
squeeze, and her soft voice was say-
ing: !
“Mister, you've been powerful good
to me. We've made a good fight for
it. It won't be awful hard this way.
Don’t let ’em catch you alive. IfI go.
first, I'll be waiting for you.” ;
I gently pushed her behind me and’
she sank at the foot of a tree. I drew my
ax and knife and placed them beside
me as I sank to one knee and gath-
ered up the two rifles. Over my shoul-,
der I whispered:
“Don’t use the pistol on any Indian.
Remember!”
“We must go faster,” said a voice in
Delaware, only I knew it was a white
man speaking. “They’ll follow us very
fast.”
I shivered with a thrill of hope, but
dared not give any encouragement to
the girl. 1 glanced back at her. Her
face showed none of the anger I had
witnessed at the Witches’ Head when
she was menaced by the mob. It was
placid of expression, and she met my
gaze with a little smile of encourage-
ment. We could hear them making
their way along the windfall. Sudden-
ly they burst into view: two Indians
and a white man. One of the Indians
was carrying a fresh scalp fastened
to the end of a short rod.
I reached back and snatched the
pistol from the girl’s hand and cried
out:
“If that be Christopher Gist, we are
friends.”
The three vanished as if by magic.
After a few moments the white man
replied: .
“I am Gist. Who are you? Speak
sharp. My Indians are nervous.”
“Black Brond, returning from a scout
to Duquesne. I have a young friend
with me.” In Delaware I added, “Teil
your friends we are your friends, and
that there is a large band of Pontiac's
men chasing us.”
CHAPTER IX
The Fatal Errand
This meeting with Gist and his two
Indians was most pleasing to us, al-
though the Delawares did not care
enough for our company to slacken
their pace. They ranged ahead while
Gist traveled with us. He gave us
much news. On July third the Indians
had refused to go on a scout, but on
the following day two had been in-
duced to accompany him. THBe three
of them had advanced to within half
a mile of the fort and had been de-
terred from approaching closer be-
cause of the excitement occasion&d by
the escape of the girl, the Onondaga
and myself. They did not know what
had happened, but with so much yell-
jug and howling and running into the
woods the Delawares had taken fright
and declared the entire red force was
starting to attack the army. Two In-
dians had sighted Gist and had chased
him for some distance. The Dela-;
wares surprised and scalped the
Frenchman the Dinwold girl had |
stumbled upon among the bramble
bushes.
Gist said he and his companions had
attempted to follow Turtle creek to
its head, where they had expected to
find the army, but had been turned
back by a large band of savages com-
ing down the creek. They hed taken
refuge in a windfall and had remained
in hiding through the violent storm.
This delay permitted the girl and me
to get in advance of them. In scout-
ing to the neighborhood of the fort
they had found the fords open and
without any signs of an ambuscade
being prepared. Nor had they discov-
ered any trace of the enemy’s savages
being outside the immediate vicinity
of the fort until the night of our es
cape.
When Gist set out from the army
camp, Braddock was about to march
to Thicketty run, a small branch of
Sewickley creek. Time dad been lost
at Jacobs’ ereek in waiting for Colonel
Dunbar’s provision train to come up.
Many of St. Clair’s road-builders were
on the sick list, and quite a number of
them had died. The wagon horses
were in miserable condition. Colonel
Washington was too ill to travel and
had not rejoined the army up to July
fourth.
“You have nothing but bad talk in
your bag,” I remarked.
“We have one French scalp,” he
grimly replied. ‘And since June twen-
ty-fifth Braddock has been paying five
pounds apiece for scalps. But none
of our scouts are getting rich on the
bounties. If we could only get ahead
faster, and reach the fort before all
our soldiers are dead, or too sick to
fight, we’d win just by showing our-
selves. Mr. William Shirley, the gen-
eral’s secretary, is very much dis-
gusted and discouraged at the way
things are being managed. He rays
he doubts our success. But talk like
that is all foolishness, of course. If
we can only hold out till we reach
Duquesne, we'll whip the French easy
enough.”
Our course was to the head of Se-
wickley creek, which was but a few
miles north of the Thicketty run camp.
The night's rest had done the girl
much good and she did not appear to
have any trouble in keeping up with
us. 1 wanted to carry her rifle, and
thereby aroused her indignation. Al-
most all the talk was between Gist
and me, although I made several at-
tempts to get some expression from
her. She preferred to keep at our
heels and hold her tougue. Once, while
Gist was climbing a tree to look for
smoke from the army’s campfires, she
asked me:
“Does he know I ain’t a man?”
“T forgot to fell him. Think I must
have been forgetting the truth my-
self,” I answered.
“Keep on forgetting, and don’t tell
him,” she curtly requested.
“I shall never forget how you stood
by me and did a man’s share of the
fighting,” I told her, somehow sensing
she was displeased at something I had
said, or left unsaid.
“Will the army be at Thicketty
run?’ she asked.
“No one knows where it'll be” I
sorrowfully replied. “It should be well
on its way to the head of Turtle creek.
It was at the run two days ago, and
I'm afraid it isn’t far from there now.
If it’s moved north we'll cut its line of
march. Dunbar’s provision train will
be stretched out over a long distance.
If it is still wasting time at the Run
we'll shift our course and find it
there.”
“Phat man Braddock don’t know
how to lead an army through this sort
of country. He'll git licked.”
“You should be ashamed for saying
that,” I rebuked. “The army moves
slowly, but as it goes by the head of
Turtle creek it can kill time till snow
flies and yet take the fort. Captain
Beaujeu told me at the fort that he
could do nothing but run if the creek
course was taken.”
“Don’t go and git mad at me, mister.
I ain’t used to armies and soldiers.
Wonder where that Injun, Round Paw,
is just about this time.” ’
“He should be several miles south
of us and moving parallel to us. To-
day is the sixth. It'll all be settled in-
side of four or five days.”
Gist came down from the tree and
reported haze or smoke a few miles
ahead. He was skeptical about its
being smoke as the army ought to be
in motion and not in camp. The Din-
wold girl abruptly spoke up and de-:
clared:
“I feel like we was being followed.”
Gist looked at her curiously and’
asked: :
“Do you pretend to hear and see
things that Brond and me can’t see,
nor hear?”
«1¢ I was a woman folks would say"
1 was a witch,” she gravely replied,
meeting his gaze steadily.
He glanced back through the shadowy
woods and assured us: v
“] believe the Indians who chased:
you two have gone back to the fort.”
«My feeling is that only one or two
men are following us,” she qualified.
«“Younkers often feel that way when
in Indian country,” he carelessly re-
marked. *
His indifference irritated her, and’
she stoutly insisted:
i
«Some one’s chasing us.”
“Qur danger will be ahead, from
the Indians hanging to flanks of the
army,” I told her. “We may have some
trouble in cutting through their line.”
She tucked her rifle under her arm
and trotted along behind us. She had
had her say and was not inclined to
found myself glancing backward, and |
each time I did so I met her question- |
ing gaze and felt ashamed.
At last 1 had to admit to myself that |
her words had put a foolish notion |
into my head. Of course one might be |
followed whenever alone in the forest, |
but as yet there was no evidence that
we were being dogged. .1 fought
against the idea, and then told Gist:
“Keep on going. I'll overtake you |
within the next mile. I'm going to
watch our back track for a bit.” |
He sped on, with the girl running a |
few rods behind him. I settled down |
hetween two trees and condemned my- |
self for giving way to a silly fancy.
My view of the forest was limited, but
1 watched faithfylly. A slight noire
behind me made me duck and twist
my head. Instead of keeping after Gist
the Dinwold girl had turned back to
share my spying. I nodded to her and
resumed searching the low arches that
radiated in every direction from our
position. She sank down beside me
and clasped her hands about her knees
and watched my frowning face rather
than the woods.
“You think I'm queer,
mister?” she softly asked.
“] believe you're notional,” I re-
torted. “We'll be travelidg after Gist.”
“Look !” she whispered.
I was in time to catch a suggestion
of motion near a walnut. I watched
don’t you,
“You Think I'm Queer, Don’t You,
Mister?” She Softly Asked.
the tree suspiciously, and from the
corner of my eye detected a flicker of
something off to one side.
“] saw it,” murmured the girl, rest-
ing an elbow on her knee and making
ready for a quick shot.
But she did not see it again, nor did
1. Close at hang a low voice called
out:
“‘Ha-hum-weh!” My white brother
and the witch-woman should be travel-
ing like the deer;” and Round Paw
the Onondaga stepped from cover and
stood beside us.
“The witch-woman’s medicine told
her some one was following us. We
waited,” 1 explained.
“She is arendiouanen,” he gravely
said. “The Wolf runs long and fast
from Allaquippa’s town to find the
army. The bone-breaking man took
your talk down the Yotighiogeny and
will follow up Sewickley creek if the
ghosts of the Hathawekela buried there
do not stop him.”
The Hathawekela were the principal
division of the Shawnee and claimed
to be the “elder brothers” of that na-
tion. I had been in Old Sewickley
town on the Allegheny, twelve miles
above Duquesne, one of their villages.
The Onondaga firmly believed that the
ghosts of their ancient dead could, if
they so desired, stop the passing of
either red or white man.
“The man Cromit will reach the
army. The Shawnee ghosts will not
stop him. They have not stopped the
English, who traveled down the Sus-
quehanna, the Conemaugh, and the
Kiskiminetas; and their dead are
buried along those streams.”
“Ghosts place traps,” he uneasily
muttered. “They may make a trap
\ for Braddock and his Swannocks.”
«what is he talking about, mister?”
asked the girl as we followed after
Gist.
“Only some nonsense about Shaw-
pee ghosts waylaying Cromit if he
goes up Sewickley creek.”
“I dreamed last night of a dead Eng-
lish soldier.”
“Then keep it to yourself. If our
friend knew that, he would accept it
as a warning of Braddock’s defeat.”
Round Paw caught enough of her
English to be curious, but I did not
interpret it fully and etiquette re-
strained him from questioning closely.
Gist left a plain trail for us to follow
put did not hold back for us to over-
take him. We did not sight him until
within two miles of the army’s camp
on Thicketty run.
The head of the army was well un-
der way for Rush ®reek, an eastern
braneh of Turtle, but a portion of it
was still in the camp as shown by the
smoke from the many fires. We fell
in with a long line of wagons that was
laboriously making its way over the
road hewn through the forest by the
axmen. 1 talked with a young wagon-
er, Dan Morgan by name, and he told
me that the army had lost twenty-four
hours at Thicketty run.
The Dinwold girl was showing wear-
iness, and 1 found room for her in
Morgan's wagon. An escort with sev-
eral wagons filled with sick. soldiers
| was about to start for Will’s creek. I
| endeavored to persuade her to go back
with the escort, but all the time I was
|
Page Seven
Ther
with the train, but how many I never
could learn as their names were not
on the rolls. She would have the com-
pany of her sex, yet I was much de-
pressed, and not a little provoked, at
her stubbornness. We left her in young
Morgan’s wagon and went up the line.
The wagon train was alarmed by
rifle-fire in the woods; then Cromit ap-
peared, trailing his long rifle. He had
been mistaken for a French scout and
had barely escaped the bullets of some
of our flankers. He was but little
worse for his hasty travel and grinned
broadly on beholding us, and more
broadly when the Onondaga refused to
shake hands with him. x
“Allaquippa’s Injuns are hiding in
the woods, scared of the French,” he
told me. “There's going to be a vast-
ly severe wring before we finish this
business.”
“We march, by the head of Turtle
creek. The Indians will refuse to at-
tack. The French can do nothing
alone,” I informed him.
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK
RAPID WORK IS
JELLY ROLL NEED
Any Preferred Recipe for,
Sponge Cake Is Used.
United States Department
griculture.)
Rapid work is one of the secrets
of making a successful jelly roll. Any,
preferred recipe for sponge cake may|
be used. It should be baked in a thin
sheet. The cake must be handled
while warm, just out of the pan, or!
it will break when you try to roll it.
(Prepared by the
of
Making Jelly Roll.
Before taking the cake from the oven,
spread a piece of waxed paper on the!
table. Sprinkle it with powdered
sugar. Turn the cake out on this,
upside down, and trim off the crusty.
edges on the sides. Spread quickly] |
with jelly or preserves, and begin:
rolling at the side nearest you. When
the cake is rolled up, roll the paper]
around it and tie it in place so the
jelly roll will keep its shape.
Fried Chicken Always
Finds Favor on Table
Select young, plump chicken, wash,
draw, disjoint, and cut into ' pieces
suitable for serving. Wipe the pieces
of chicken dry, sprinkle with salt and
pepper, and rub well with flour.
In a heavy skillet, heat a generous
quantity of well-flavored fat to just]
below the smoking point. First put]
in the larger and thicker pieces of
chicken so that each piece will be
surrounded ‘by the hot fat. Partly
cover and watch closely to prevent
scorching. Turn the chicken as soon
as it becomes golden brown. Reduce
the heat, and cook until tender, re-
move, and drain on brown paper to
absorb the excess fat.
To prepare chicken gravy, to each
2 tablespoonfuls of fat allow 2 table-
spoonfuls of flour and cook for two or
three minutes, stirring constantly. Then’
|
_add 11% cupfuls of rich milk, Cook:
until thickened, adding more salt and’
pepper if needed. Sprinkle finely '
chopped parsley over the gravy and
serve hot with the chicken.
Walking for Water
Then there is the woman in Mary-
land discovered by the rural engineer-
ing specialists of the bureau of public
roads, U. S. Department of Agricul-
ture, who walked a distance of 440
miles a year—equal to the distance be-
tween Chicago and Omaha—carrying
water from the pump to the house.
There is yet work to be done in eman-
cipating the American farm wife from
her slavery to the water bucket,
A Tongue Twister :
There's no need to light a night light ;
On a light night like tonight. :
For a night-light’'s light is a slight
light
And tonight is a night that’s light.
When a night's light like tonight's!
light i
[t’s not quite right to light lights i
Quite so slight as a night-light, :
Dn a light night like tonight.
+
ry
Reasonable?
Billy’s daddy took him down to the,
railroad to see the circus unload.
After seeing the elephants, camels,
ind other animals unloaded from the
cars, his daddy said: “Well, Billy, I
guess we have seen it all. Now shall
we go home?” To which Billy replied:
*No, daddy, let's stay a while longer
talk further. Curiously enough I soon | talking she was shaking her head. lpg gee them unload the clowns.”
|
3
i
+
{