Democratic Sentinel, Volume 4, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 November 1880 — The Settler’s Stratagem. [ARTICLE]

The Settler’s Stratagem.

BY CLINTON MONTAGUE.

Mark Stanton was one of those hardy pioneers who, in the early settlement of the country, moved from the more thickly settled seaboard and pitched his cabin in the valley of the Saco, far away from the seats of civilization. His nearest neighbor lived at a distance of two miles, near the western border of Lovewell’s Pond. A wife and one child accompanied him into the wilderness. The Indians at this period were peculiary troublesome. Pangus indeed was dead—the great Sagamore whose name had been a source of terror for years, to even distant settlements; but the remnant of his tribe still made their home upon the broad meadow of the Saco and among the adjacent hills. Unable to make any large or connected attacks upon the invading whites the red men contented themselves with pillage and theft and other annoyances. Against these numerous depredations the settlers had no adequate means of defence, and if they found their fowls, swine or cows missing they had to submit to the loss as best they might. Stanton had been a victim to these depredations on several occasions, but had attempted no retaliation. The chief leaders of the savages in these plundering inroads were two braves noted for their strength and ferocity, named Mattampa and Kalarna. On more than one occasion these warriors had even burned cabinsand scalped the owners, and the settler deemed himself fortunate that no such injuries had been offered him. One September day Mark Stanton found it necessary to visit his neighbor Drover’s to obtain a few supplies that they stood in need of. So kissing his four-year-old daughter, and bidding his wife to guard carefully against any attack of the Indians, the settlor took his rifle and departed for the settlement. His stay was protracted to a later hour than he had anticipated, and it was nearly sundown when he set out on his return. He hurried his step almost to a ruu as he thought of the anxiety that would be his wife’s at his prolonged absence. Yet, in his haste, he neglected not to use both eyes and ears; for the settler was a true hunter, and had more than once saved his life by his craft and forest lore.

When about half the intervening distance had been passed, Stanton heard a noise that made him pause. It sounded like the cry of a child, and it was not far from his path. He listened in suspense and again heard the cry repeated. This time he recognized the voice as that of his own child, his darling Annie, whom he had last seen in her mother’s arms at home. The cry was one of entreaty, of terror, too, and Stanton’s heart beat loudly at the thought of the girl’s danger. He guessed instinctively what, had happened. The Indians had visited his home during his absence and accomplished their fell purpose. As soon as the first shock of horror was passed he was nerved to action. Bending his ear to the ground he plainly heard the jar of footsteeps, but he was surprised to discover that there was but a single savage. Quickly, but cautiously, he crept through the bushes, and finally he got a glimpse of the red man, at a little distance, hurrying through the deep wood. The Indian was tall and powerful, and he bore the light form of the child under his arms as though it had been a mere feather’s weight. The little thing had ceased to struggle, for one of the great red hands was pressed hard over her mouth, and she seemed nearly exhausted. It took Mark Stanton but a moment to conclude what to do. He did not dare rush upon the savage and attempt to beat him down, for he knew that if the red .man was alarmed before he reached him the life of his child would be sacrificed. On the other hand, if he trusted to his rifle, there was a bare possibility that the girl might be injured, but it was far the better course. Hurrying cautiously forward until he reached a favorable point, he raised his trusty weapon to his shoulder. Leveling it full at the center of the red man’s head, he took a careful aim and pulled the trigger. The next moment a sharp report rang through the forest. Without waiting for the smoke to clear away, Stanton rushed forward and found the savage just gasping in his death struggle, while little Anne lay screaming by his side. He soon pacified the child, who he found was uninjured. Then he reloaded his rifle and made a hasty examination of the fallen Indian. The settler did not recognize him, but from his dress and ornaments he judged that he was a warrior of some note. Leaving him where he had fallen, Stanton took his child in his arms and wended his way homeward. It was quite dusk when he reached there, and he found his wife waiting for him nearly crazed with grief. The mother’s strength returned when she saw her child, and after the congratulations of the hour, Mrs. Stanton told her story. She had left Anne sleeping in her bed, and went out to milk the cow. When she returned the child was missing. She had immediately begun a search, but without avail, and was fast approaching hysterics when her husband returned. She now urged an immediate flight to the settlement at the pond, and Stanton promised to accede to her wishes as soon as their ripening crops were harvested. The following morning the settler went to the place where he had left the dead Indian, with the intention of burying him; but he found that the body had been carried away. There were heavy tracks about the spot, and Stanton readily conjectured that some of the warrior’s friends had effected the removal. With this conclusion he retraced his steps, determined to keep his eyes open and his rifle ready.

The second morning afterwards as Mark Stanton stepped from his cabin he saw something lying upon the door-stone. He stooped and picked it up, and saw that it was an arrow, with the skin of a rattlesnake around about it. He knew what the fatal signal meant at ogee. The man who left that snake-bound shaft at his door had sworn to kill him. The settler was a brave man, but this stern, significant token affected him as the presence of the avenger himself would have not At first be thought he

would not tell his wife, but, on reflection, he concluded it would be better to let her into the secret. It would be better for her and better for him, for a constant watch must now be maintained. Mrs. Stanton’s first impulse, as soon as she understood what her husband told her, was to hasten to the settlement. “That would hardly be a safe undertaking,” returned the settler; “for my enemy may be even now watching near the cot, and were we to start out I might get a rifle-ball through my body.” The young wife was sorely frightened, but she saw the reasonableness of her husband’s statement, and she urged her point no further. All that day they kept within doors, and during the night Stanton did not relinquish his watch. But no signs of Indians were visible. On opening the door in the morning, however, the settler saw another arrow laying near the door-step. To this one a roll of birch bark was attached. Carrying it into the house, he unrolled the bark and found it embellished with a rude drawing. It was not difficult to make out what was intended tx\ be conveyed. In one corner of the segment was the picture of a dead Indian, and from the hieroglyphics underneath, Stanton gathered the fact that it was meant for Mattampa. one of the noted braves of the Pequaket tribe. Beyond him was another brave, with a drawn bow in his hand and an arrow speeding from it. Under this one was the name of Kalarna. The third figure represented a white man with an arrow piercing his bosom. The settler’s anxiety was not materially decreased by the knowledge that his foeman was one of these distinguished braves. He knew he had to deal with one of the most crafty and relentless savages of that region, and he knew enough of the Indian’s character to know that he would not swerve from his revengeful plan until he had performed the deed or had fallen in the conflict. “What shall we do? What shall we do?” cried Mrs. Stanton, as she shielded Anne in her arms. “We may be surrounded by enemies at this moment. ” “ That is not probable,” said her husband. “ Kalarna is too much of a brave to suffer that. I have slain his brother, and he alone will seek revenge. He has given me fair warning, and now he will hang around my path till he accomplishes his fell purpose, unless I can continue to circumvent him. He thinks he has put me upon the rack, and his next step will be to put a rifle ball through my heart. But he will work in the dark.”

“Could I not go to the settlement and inform them of your danger?” asked the heroic wife, brave now that she knew what the danger was that was to be met. Stanton shook his head dubiously. “You would not be permitted to- do that,” he answered. “Besides, I would not have you undergo such risk. ” The situation was truly a perplexing one. The stout settler was imprisoned in his own cabin as surely as though he had been within the walls of a dungeon. The avenger was already on his track and might be, even then, hidden in the greenwood. He felt confident that should he step one foot out of doors his body would be the mark for a bullet. In the middle of the afternoon Mrs. Stanton opened the door and went out to get a pail of water. The spring was situated a few rods from the cabin, near a thicket of trees and bushes. As she stooped to dip the water she saw the painted visage of an Indian glaring at her through some whitewood bushes. Though trembling with fear she did not betray by a sign that she had observed him and bore her burden with seeming carelessness into the house. Once within she sat down pale and trembling. “I have seen an Indian,” said she, in reply to her husband’s questioning. “ He is hid in the clump of white woods by the spring. Oh, you will be killed ! Mark, you will be killed!” Stanton stepped to one of the small loopholes between the logs and looked sharply out. The bushes in question were not over ten rods from the door. He could see no Indian there, but he knew it was a place where an Indian could hide, and he did not doubt his wife’s eyesight. Kalarna was probably there waiting for his appearance. The settler’s craft did not desert him. He felt easier to know that his enemy mas near him, for he could make his plans accordingly. He knew his enemy’s position, and that knowledge placed him, as it were, on something like an equality with him. “Mary,” said he to his wife, “I am going to kill that Indian.” “What are you going to do?” she cried, in an agony of pain and suspense. “The moment you step afoot outside the door you will be shot. ” “ Of course if I go out I am sure to be killed; but suppose something should go out that only looked like me, what then?” he asked.

“What do you mean, Mark?” and Mrs. Stanton gazed into her husband’s face as if to comprehend his meaning. “I mean that we will send out a man of straw to draw the enemy’s fire. After that it will be my turn with the rifle. Now do you understand?” The wife said she thought she did. ‘ ‘ Then let us go to work as quickly as possible, before the Indian changes his lurking-place.” Stanton’s plan was clear now, and they proceeded to speedily carry it into execution. The settler doffed his clothes, which they stuffed well with bedding. A proper looking head was fashioned from a small pillow, to one side of which was tacked a piece of bearskin to represent hair. Upon this was placed a bat, and when all was completed it formed as respectable a looking effigy as could be easily gotten up; indeed, so well was it proportioned and so excellent was the likeness that the good wife declared that, had she seen it for the first time in the woods, she should not have known it from her husband. In order to perfectly carry out the settler’s plan a broom handle was fixed to the effigy, under the right arm, so that it could be held in an upright position. Mrs. Stanton then practised upon it until she could move it about as if it had life.

When all was ready the settler took liis station at the loophole which looked toward the cover of the Indian. He had already his rifle in readiness, and as soon as the muzzle of the piece was in its place, and he was sure of his aim, he gave the signal to his wife. She opened the door very slowly, and carefullv lifted the image out over the threshold upon the stone, holding it there steadily. At the same moment Stanton saw a human head lifted cautiously above the white wood bushes. The eagle features and the painted countenance told that it was an Indian brave. The settler instantly covered the right eye of the red man with the sight of his rifle. The redskin discharged his rifle at the same instant with the white man, .so that both reports were simultaneous. A loud death yell told the result of the settler’s shot, and Stanton saw his red foeman leap into the air and fall to the ground. The Indian’s aim had been no less certain, for on examining the effigy they found a bullet-hole just where the heart would have lain in a human bosom. After a while Mark Stanton went out to the white wood bushes. He found the vengeful Kalarna stone dead. A bullet had passed into his right eye through the brain. The red man had fought his last battle. He buried the dead body at a distance and removed as well as he could all traces of the conflict, and then for two or three days kept a careful watch. But he was not molested. The attempt upon his life had been planned by Kalama alone, and the death of the redoubtable warrior was never traced to his hands,

The sturdy pioneer lived there many years and prospered. Grandchildren grew up around him, to whom the adventures of their grandsire were as interesting as fairy tales. But there was one story they never heard without a tremor, and’ that was the hunter’s stratagem when' he slew the famous Pequaket brave.