2
Skenandoah, The Deer, a twenty-four-year-old Oneida Indian, leaned against a post in the white man’s tavern, listening to the drunken singing of the white men. He realized these men were no longer in possession of their good minds, such was the power of the evil-spirit water. Skenandoah never drank the white man’s sinister water. He was a scout; it was forbidden.
“Skenan, there ye be. I’ve been a-lookin’ fer thee, lad.”
Skenandoah smiled before saying in English, “I am glad to see my friend John Wilson. But, I am no longer a lad.”
“I be glad to hear it, son. I be glad to hear it. Now, I be wantin’ a favor from thee.”
Skenan nodded.
“Thar be a lass on her way to Fort Stanwix. She be a fine young lassie and I fear Miss Stockenridge has sent the hounds after the miss. Go find her, lad. See that she gets to Fort Stanwix with no harm befallin’ her. It be a favor to me.”
Skenan nodded. “I will do it. When did she leave?”
“It be a little afore noon. See the gal gets to Fort Stanwix and to the commander there. She be carryin’ somethin’ fer me, now, and it be important.”
“If I can, I will do it. And, if hounds are after her, as you say, I must hurry.”
“That be fine, lad. That be fine. Godspeed.”
Skenandoah picked up the girl’s trail with the ease of long practice, and, leaning his upper body over so he could look at the ground while keeping the rest of the environment clearly within his view, he ran quickly along the path she had made. Ahead of him, he could hear the eager sounds of the dogs on a chase, and, finding their trail, he saw there were four of these canines. Did the white men need so many to catch a mere girl?
Glancing to his right, he beheld the tracks of the white men following the dogs, but Skenan ignored them and the dogs, he being interested only in finding the girl. Soon, he passed by the hounds without any of them detecting his presence, since the four dogs were stopped for the moment, sniffing the ground.
The girl’s path suddenly veered to the south, toward a running stream. Ah, she was, indeed, a wise girl. But, what she didn’t know and he did was the way in which she was heading led to a waterfall not far from here. It was a high drop from the water above to the water below. Luckily, the current in the stream above those falls was not so swift as to sweep her over the edge of them. But, if she came too near to it…
He listened. The dogs were on the run again.
Still following her trail, he splashed into the water. And, then he saw her ahead of him. She was standing in the middle of the water, glancing to the right and to the left, back and forth, over and over. Obviously, she knew there was a waterfall ahead of her—she would have to have been deaf not to hear it—but she was evidently in a quandary of how to get up onto the shoreline and down the boulders lining the shores to the water below the falls…and do it without leaving a scent.
Indeed, if she were to place her feet upon the land, the dogs would surely pick up her trail again. And, she seemed to know it.
He ran right up to her—she not even being aware of him—until he was right upon her.
When she saw him, she gasped and started to scream, but he placed his hand over her mouth, bringing up the index finger of his other hand to his lips at the same time.
“I am a friend,” he whispered. “I was sent here by the innkeeper.”
She nodded, though her eyes told him she was terrified of him. He ignored her momentarily, looking around at the environment. He could see no means of escape, except by land.
Perhaps he could carry her down the sharply sloping ground next to the water. The hounds would then pick up his trail and not hers.
But, no. Glancing down at her dress, he could see how flimsy was the brown material. It would tear; thus, it alone would leave a trail for the girl’s hunters since the vines and the bushes had numerous thorns and would surely snag a bit of her dress.
Looking forward, he noted there were a few willow trees leaning down close to the stream, their sturdy branches hanging over the water. Was this a possible way to escape the hounds without leaving a trail?
But, whether or not the trees could hide them, he had no choice: he would have to use them to escape the dogs. He could see no other means of escape.
Pointing toward the trees, he took hold of her elbow and, leading the way, splashed toward the largest willow tree, the one with the firmest-looking branches that reached out over the stream. He let go of her for the moment, and, jumping up onto the strongest arm of the tree, he pulled himself up. Then balancing himself, he squatted there and leaned down, offering his hand to her. As soon as she took it, he pulled her up onto the tree’s limb, and then, holding her at the waist with one arm, with his other hand he caught hold of another branch of the tree, and using it to stand up, he brought her up with him. At once, he began scooting sideways toward the land, until they had both disappeared into the solid-like yellow and green leaves of the tree.
Luckily, the trees in this glen were so close together, he was able to scoot onto the branches of another tree farther back from the water, still holding Abagail around the waist, and he brought her with him. Hadn’t he and his friends played many a hiding game in these trees as children? Indeed, he knew this glen very well.
Scooting slowly from limb to limb and tree to tree, he continued his slow trek through the forest until he felt they were lost within this glen of the willow trees. Then, catching sight of the maple tree he remembered from his youth, he scooted toward it with its striking red leaves, and, stepping carefully upon its branches, he climbed up high into the large tree, it being surrounded by the swarm of willows. Because both his and the girl’s clothing were brown, and his with a red sash over his shoulder, their clothing looked similar in color to the bright red leaves and the tree’s trunk, and he knew this, alone, might give them the advantage of vanishing.
He found the thickest and strongest branch of the tree, remembering pleasantly how he had hid here in these trees in those long-ago childhood games. He stood for a moment, noticing how other branches spread out from this one limb, creating a crude sort of seat.
Here, they would pause until the danger was past.
Murmuring in a low voice, he said, “We will stay here until the dogs and the men who own them have gone away. See there”—he pointed—“how there are many branches going outward from this one strong limb? I think we can sit here comfortably enough while they hunt for you.” He sat down with his back against the trunk of the tree, his legs spread out and hanging down on both sides of the branch. “Here, sit you now with your backside toward me and your legs spread out over the branch as I am doing. It will give you balance.”
“But, sir, I fear I might fall.”
He grinned at her. “I will ensure you do not.”
She then did as he directed, though she didn’t lean back against him. She whispered, “Did Mr. Wilson tell you what happened before he sent you after me?”
“He did not,” answered Skenan. “He told me only to find you and to see you safely to Fort Stanwix. I am to take you to the commander of the fort when we arrive there.”
With her voice quavering, Abagail whispered, “I thank you, sir. I fear that if the dogs had found me, they would have torn me to pieces. But, if not, and I had been taken back to the inn, Miss Stockenridge would have done so.”
As though her words had alerted him to her injuries, he touched one of the places on her back where blood was seeping through the material of her clothing. She jumped, and he, placing an arm around her waist when she would have fallen, said, “I will attend to your wounds now.”
“Now?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Nyoh, yes. They need care now.”
She watched as he leaned over and tore off a small branch from one of the nearby willow trees, and, placing the bark of the tree into his mouth, he chewed the piece until she saw he had made an even paste out of it. Then, gently, still holding onto the tree with his right arm, he used his left hand to lift up the blouse upon her back and spread the paste over her wounds.
He said, “We will let this dry. It will take away the bad spirits of the lash. Does it hurt very much?”
“Yes, sir, it does.”
“The medicine I have made will soon cause even the hurt to become less.” He spoke softly.
After a while, she asked, “I thank you, sir, but how long will we have to remain in the tree?”
“Until I am certain the men and the dogs who hunt you have gone and the danger they present is no longer a problem,” he replied.
“This could be a long while,” she murmured.
“Sh-h-h. Quiet now. They come.”
“But, sir, how can you be certain they will not find us? Those dogs might catch my scent.”
“There is no scent now. It is why we climbed through the trees to this spot.”
“But, can they not smell my scent if they come in close to this tree? What if they look up and see us?”
He smiled, but it was only for a moment before he asked, “Do you not know that dogs do not look up until something forces them to do so? Most animals do not raise their heads to see what is above them.”
“But, men do,” she countered.
“So they do. But, they will not do so this time. And if they do, they will not see us because we are well hidden. Now, you must be quiet and do not think of anything, if possible. Men can sometimes sense your thoughts.”
“I will try to do it, sir. But, because of my fear of not being able to escape from them, it might be hard to do.”
“I know,” he responded. “But, do try to do it. Now, no talking. They are close.”