there were many fish. If the Indians fished with bait, they did so rarely, and
the fish were easily taken.
At sundown on the tenth day, Lila came to me. “We must rest soon,” she said. “I
think we have not much longer to wait.”
“She is right,” Sakim said. “I think within the week.”
Glancing west, toward where the blue mountains lay, I tried to calculate. If it
was smooth water, not too many curves … and if there were no waterfalls, could
we reach the mountains in two weeks?
Sakim shrugged. “We will see.”
Lila turned and walked back to Abigail, and I made a round of our camp.
I mentioned two weeks to Wa-ga-su, and he shook his head no. “More far away,” he
told me.
He waved ahead and to the south. “The cold will come. Sometimes snow. Much ice
on rivers. I think it is best you stay with my people. The Catawba is good
farmer. Much grain. You stay.”
There was hypnotic fascination in the journey by river. We moved along one bank
or the other, choosing where the current was least strong, and often our way was
overhung with the branches of huge old trees. At other times we were far from
the banks, moving along in the brightest sunlight.
It was already cold at night.
Several times we saw deer swim across the stream ahead of us, and once we killed
one for meat. Several times we killed turkeys, and once a bear.
We saw few Indians but were quite sure they saw us, and looked upon us with
wonderment and curiosity. Yet as the distance grew we became more confident,
more excited by what lay before and around us.
By night our flickering campfires lighted the wilderness, and sometimes we sang
the old songs from home. Kane O’Hara had a fine voice, as did Jeremy. Of my own
singing the least said the better. I liked to sing, and would have sung always,
but my voice had no quality.
Much was I learning, for Wa-ga-su pointed out trees and plants used by the
Indian for medicine or food, and also much about Indians themselves. The Catawba
and the Cherokee were ancient enemies, and the legends among the tribes were
that both had come from the north, although long, long ago and before any white
man had been seen, even before De Soto or Juan Pardo.
There were mornings when the sunlight sparkled on every ripple, and shadows
dappled the banks, and there were days when the rain fell in sheets and we could
see only a few yards before us. Sometimes we were hard put to avoid huge drift
logs that came down upon us, but each day we moved farther, each day we
progressed some little bit.
“It takes a long time,” Peter Fitch mumbled, one day. “I would na have believed
’twas any so far, or there was so much empty land in the world.”
” ‘Tis a miracle,” Slater agreed, “and they do say there’s more beyond the
mountains.”
Suddenly, Fitch caught my arm. “Captain, would you look now? What is that
yonder?”
We had camped that morning under some great old trees on a broad flat bank of
the river. Beyond the trees there was a wide savanna or plain, and out upon it
lay a huge beast, a great, hairy black monster of a thing. As we watched, he got
up suddenly, lunging to his feet and staring at us. His broad flat face, thickly
matted with hair, was toward us, and his beard almost touched the ground.
Suddenly others like him began to appear.
Wa-ga-su came up beside me. “Good meat,” he said. “Good hide also. You kill?”
I had to think twice about that. I’d seen some bulls in my time, but nothing
quite like this one, nor nearly so big. And there was wonder in me if a bullet
could bring him down, but Wa-ga-su assured me the Indians often killed them,
sometimes with arrows, but occasionally with spears.
At his urging I rested my musket on its wiping-stick, aimed, and fired.
The huge beast moved not a whit, but continued to stare at me, finally jerking
his big head up and down as if irritated by me or perhaps the bullet. I had
begun at once to recharge my gun, and at the shot, O’Hara and Pim had come
quickly from the trees, they being closer.
The beast then took a step toward me and suddenly bent at the knees and went
down, then rolled over. The others did not run off or even seem to notice, not
having heard such a sound before, and not connecting it with any danger to them.
Wa-ga-su was now pointing at the nearest cow, and truth to tell she had turned
partly away from me so I had an excellent shot at the space behind her left
shoulder. Knowing full well that I had many mouths to feed, I took rest and
fired again, with equal good fortune. It must be admitted that neither beast was
as much as fifty yards away and in plain sight, nor were they moving. But he was
standing and looking, she grazing. Now, seeming to scent blood, the others moved
off a little, looked back, then walked on across the savanna, and calling the
others, we moved out to butcher our beasts.
Quill and Slater were expert at butchering, so leaving them to the task—with
Wa-ga-su to advise and Fitch to help—I put Barry Magill at the edge of the woods
to keep an eye out for trouble from inland while the others worked.
Abby was lying on a pallet near the fire and I went and sat down near her,
holding her hand. She looked very pale this morning and I was frightened to see
her so, and guessing how I felt, she squeezed my hand. It was getting very close
to her time.
Watkins and Glasco were fishing, Pim putting a splice in a rope we had broken
negotiating a falls, where we had to remove our boats from the water and take
them overland, tugging and hauling them, then returning for our baggage and
carrying that on our shoulders.
Suddenly there was a low whistle from Magill, and instantly, Glasco and Watkins
took up their muskets. Pim stepped to shelter behind the bole of a huge tree
while Black Tom and I went through the woods.
Our butchers had stopped cutting meat and were standing erect. Magill had his
musket leveled, and Fitch was kneeling behind the carcass of the bull, holding
his own musket.
On the crest of the low rise where we had first seen the buffalo stood several
Indians. Each carried a bow and a spear as well, with a quiver of arrows behind
each left shoulder. As we watched, another Indian appeared, then another, and
another.
My musket was in my hands, and I waited, watching.
When at last they ceased to appear, at least thirty warriors lined the crest.
Against them we could fire three shots before they would be upon us.
23
They stared upon us, and we upon them, and then Wa-ga-su stepped suddenly
forward and called out to them in his own tongue.
Instantly they were alert. One of them came a few steps forward, peering at him.
Wa-ga-su spoke again, and motioned them back, wisely guessing that any sudden
advance might bring gunfire.
He walked toward them, speaking the while, and they waited for him. Suddenly
they were all about him, showing great excitement. They seemed to know him, and
yet I could not be sure.
He turned then and came to me. “They are my people,” he said. “They are
Catawba.” Then he added, “They hunt for meat, but they have killed nothing.”
“Wa-ga-su, the cow we must have, and the hides of both, but I would not see your
people hungry. They may have the bull.”
Walking out to the butchering, I explained to Quill, Slater, and Fitch. “Skin
out the cow,” I said, “and get the meat and hide. I think we will make some
friends here.”
At Wa-ga-su’s invitation, they descended upon the bull, and in no time at all
fires were going and meat was roasted.
Lila met me at the edge of the clearing. “I think we must stay here,” she said.
“Her time is upon us.”
Thoughtfully, I looked around. The grove of trees where the boats were drawn up
was lovely, a peaceful place, open to the sky and with a good clear lookout in
all directions, as well as a good field of fire.
There was water, fuel, and as evidenced by the buffalo, there would be game. If
my son was to be born, it would be better here.
“Is this your country?” I asked Wa-ga-su.
“No … but my people are great hunters and wanderers. They travel far.”
“They have women and child with them?”
“Many.” He motioned toward the southwest. “Over there.” Then he added, “You have