The Syracuse Journal, Volume 20, Number 22, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 27 September 1928 — Page 9

I' J< jj rrtfff r'fjn-fffr f r'i , fi >,> fnrT^<‘t<‘rr-r'r*“ , ************ >> ******* J * > *********** w ********** #w * w The Red Road A Romance of Braddock’s Defeat By Hugh Pendexter Illustrations by Irwin Myers CopyrKh. by push PbWtexUr. ™

CHAPTER Vll—Continued . —2o—- — fast!’’ be hissed. To the water-gate I” Pontiac’s voice thundered a com tnand -The Onondaga muttered: - “Tlie Ottawa chief tells his children to watch the gates and ,tiu stockade and kill anyone trying 1 to get out.” Once outside the lodge and we were tn darkness. Thirty yards away ami we had lost ourselves in a wild crowd oi savages. But as we pressed on Pontiac’s stentorian voice graduallj reached an intelligence here and there; and from different points arid iti all the dialects <u the northern and Ohio tribes, the word was passed to guard the stockades and gates. “Take the man Beland alive!” roared a voice; and I knew that Beauvias at last had connected my identity up with my French name and that Beau Jeu now understood all. ‘Why this 1 way?” 1 asked the Onondaga as we reached the stockade on the river front. “Stand on my shoulders, white brother, and go over,” he directed.* “There’s the witch womaij- 1 —” “She’s oh the other side. Shall w» Join her, or face/ about aritf die like chiefs?’’ , . 1 scrambled to his shoulders and went to the top of the tijmbers. t reached down a hand, but scjorning ail assistance Round Paw sv armed ovei the barrier. The two of us dropped to the ground within a few the rive'r. It was, very dark and 1 was corn pletely bewildered. “This way. mister,” called a low voice. The Onondaga dragged me after him. My hand resetd on a canoe. “Who’s there?” 1 whispered. “Daughter of witches,” was the haltlaughing half-sobbing reply. “But please don t stop to talk, master." It was time I scrambled into the canoe, for a chorus of yells was now raised on the<other side of the stockade and only a few feet away. I tripped over a rifle as the Onondaga’ pushed the light craft into the current. 1 picked it up and found it familiar ro my hands. “Whose ride is this?’ i whispered “Hush!” cautioned the girl. Then proudly, “It’s yours. 1 was at the door when the trouble began. 1 reached in and took it when Mr. Beauvais commenced calling you a spy.” “Talk will kill us.” grunted the On ondaga as he pusher! a. paddle into my hands and began working des perately to reach the slack water along the opposite bank. His warning was timely for 1 could hear the plop, plop of heavy bodies dropping over the stockade There came an explosion of mad rage that made my heart wince. The Onondaga proudly in formed us: “They have found Little, VVoft in the lodge. 1 crept under the wall and shot him with his own arrow He made a choking noise. The Wolf man thought some of those outside would know the truth There was Pontiac He talks with ghosts and thgy tell him secrets. It was he who told Lit tie Wolf to kill me. Pontiag saw me at Detroit atid knew my heart was warm for the English. Little Wolf was to shoot me through the hole tn the robes when I danced by if my white brother had not been in dan ger, I should have shot Pontiac after telling him to march by with the others.” “They are over the wall; they will take canoes and follow us!” I warned. “Mister, 1 spoiled all, the canoes I could find before going to the house where you was eating. They can’t catch us with boats.” “You have done well, little woman What does Round Paw do now?" We were at the opposite shore. “We will go up the river instead of down.” he answered. “They will think we went down to the Ohio. If the man Beauvais had not come we would have shown them some new .magic.” “You knew about Beauvais!” I asked Round Paw. ‘The witch-woman told me. She •asked my help She waited outside the bouse to stop Beauvais from see Ing you It was the witch woman who said we would leave by water, , She was to be outside the stockade by the water-gate. She has a very strong medicine.” “So ft was you who saved me. little woman.’ I said to her. “Lor’s sake! Don’t belluve nothing that litjun tells you. He saved yon; m>t me. And now I can’t go to Can ada.” ’ “Wait untiTafter the war. - It will be a short war,’ | told her, little real izing my fallability as a prophet. •‘We must leave the river before the first light.” spoke up the Onondaga. “Pontiac will lead the chase. Jle is a very great man. He knows we took to water. He will send men along both shores to find where our trail leaves the river He will throw many men between us and Braddock. If. the witch woman takes to the air and files like a bird, then Round’ Paw and his brother can walk slowly and* laugh at the wild Ottawas.” ....... He was disappointed when I told him the girl could not fly like a bird and that any plans we made must include her, I told him of my efforts to shield Allaqnippa’s village from attack and expressed my fear that Beauvais would now do the thing I had convinced him he should not do This furnished the Onondaga with a double errand to the Delaware village: be must warn the woman sachem and tell ('remit to carry my warning to the army that the Turtle Creek route, though rough, would tie free from successful ambuscades., “You will take the same talk, but sepcr-’c from the bonebreaker,” I woman and I will leave

you at the mouth of Turtle creek and follow It up for a bit and seek the army in that direction. Surely one of the three of us men will take the talk through to Braddock.” CHAPTER VIII . Our Orendaa Are Strong Half a mile below the mouth ot Turtle creek the Monongahela grew very shallow with scarcely more than a ripple »>f water tn places. The of us held a brief conference and decided that Round Paw should take the canoe to the western bank and make Allaqulppa’s town afoot. ' The girl and I waded to the eastern shore. We left the river In the first gray light 'of morning and ran swiftly, the girl’s thin face revealing her deter initiation not to binder my progress by any display of weakness; and as we ran she spied out the country ahead while 1 kept watch over out back track Every time I glanced behind me I fully expected to behold a Hitting form of a spvage. We arrived at Turtle creek, a short distance above its mouth, without hearing the Indians’ cry of discovery. We 'forded the creek and paused for a minute for her to rest. Our breathing spell was terminated by a . faint halloo. The voice came from ■mb “Set Me Down! Set Me Down I” tar off, and as it was not repeated we did not agree as to the direction The girl insisted it was north of us. while my ears placed it as coming from the northwest, at about the point on the Monongahela where we had aban doned the canoe. Thankful it was not ahead of us we resumed our flight We had not proceeded more than fifty rods before the girl, who was in the lead, gave a little cry and came to a halt. “Where?” I whispered, glaring about to find what had alarmed her. “Among the bramble-bushes.” she faintly replied, pointing her short rifle toward a thicket and pressing a hand to her side. 1 saw It and directed: “Go ahead a bit and wait sot me.” It was no sight even for a borderbred woman to behold unless grim necessity compelled. After she had passed on I examined the dead man He had been shot through the body and scalped. He was a Frenchman, for he wore the white uniform with black facings that distinguished the marines from the troops of the line whose facings were blue. As the buzzards had not commenced to gather it was plain he taust have met death twelve hours back, or in the evening An ax was tightly gripped in the right hand and there was a gash tn

11 " 1 ' ' ■ 1 4 ‘ ' • Died in Belief Drill Had Disturbed Satan .

Martin Beaty, who moved from hi diana to the mouth of Bear creek in Kentucky ‘to make salt, is credited with having drilled the first oil well in the United States It was in 1819 that, drilling for salt by hand, Beaty struck oil and natural gas. His crew was drenched with oil and. his tire being near, the gas took tire. Suppos ing tie had drilled kito the infernal regions, Beaty and his men took to the hills and left their camp to burn About two years later he and a friend returned to the place, tilled a barrel with oil. loaded it on ft raft, and started down the river to Burns side, hoping to find some one there who could tell him what the “devil’s tar” really was. , His craft ran upon a rock at the Devil’s Jumps and was wrecked. Several years later Beaty attempted Left Immortal Work Peter Mark Kogti, who compiled the thesaurus which bears his name, was an English physician and scholar, born in London, 1779. died in 1869 He studied medicine at the University of Edinburgh and removed to Man Chester when be became physician to the lunatic asylum, the fever hos pital and the infirmary He settled tn in 1898 and was long secretary of the Royal society Among his works are “’Animal and Vegetable Physiology’ (1834) and “A Phesaurus of English Words ai d Phrases” (1852), which passed through 28 editions tn the author’s lifetime, was edited by his son in 1879 and be* ame a standard work of roferencu

thS handle where another blade bad struck. In the darkness he and his ‘ assailant had fought blindly. I overtook the girl, who was stand- j ing before a thick tangle of pea-vines : and trailers. When I would have i taken the lead in striking this bar i rier, she motioned me to wait. Time was too precious to wait, hut before I could say as much 1 heat’d a faint cry. “I knew 1 heard It," she muttered ! “But ‘t is only the howl of a wolf.” “Indian lungs are behind that howl.” I told her. “It’s up the creek ” ' “You think a InJun made It. nds ter?” The howl was repeater’ and sounded ; clearer. “I’m positive," I said. As It to guarantee The certainty ot my words the signal was answered on our left and again from the direction of the river. “They are close after us,”. 1 whis pered. “They’re calling to each other j to meet on this creek. They’ll find our trail. There’s but one way open: we must double back by the Frazier cabin, and. if sighted before we enter the forest below it. we can take st el j ter there and try to stand them off till night.’ “If we can find the cabin, we can make a good fight.” she stoutly de 1 dared. John Frazier, trader and, black smith, was a stanch supporter of the English. He nad served the colonies i more than once as an Interpreter and j before coming to the mouth of Turtle j creek had lived for twelve years at j Venango, or until driven out by the j French ip 1753. He had been of as sistance to Colonel Washington in 1754 and was commissioned a lieuten ant in Trent’s command when it was instructed to fortify the forks of the , Ohio. “1 can find the cabin easy enough ” 1 assured her, and we swung out from the creek and doubled back.' As we I ran we could hear the “wolves” howl j ing from three points of the compass j their signals sounding clearer each minute and proving that several bands would soon come together at the creek. I began to doubt the wis dom of proceeding farther toward the cabin I feared we would be cut oft and surrounded. To turn our backs to the creek and plunge through the dense forest and trust our lives to oui legs appealed as being the best plan “Are you able to keep going all day through the forest?” I asked her. “1 am very tired," she confessed “It’s so long since I had a good sleep mister. There was last night—” “1 know,” I broke in, for time was ' all to short. “You couldn’t do it.” A glance at her pinched face told I me she was fairly exhausted. And tn our haste to make good time we nad in spots left si£ns the savages could easily follow at a run. “The cabin it must be,” 1 said and trying to speak cheerfully. “Frazier will have plenty of powder and bul : lets. Perhaps some spare trade guns!” “You could make it alone through the woods to the army,” she said, her words coming in Jerks. “1 can make it uo faster than you can.” “I’m thinking you’re telling a lie | mister,” she gravely rebuked, but re sumcd running. “A quavering cry up the made my skin prickle. “Hang on to your rifle,” 1 ordered as I seized her and threw her over my shoulder, holding her with one arm and carrying my own gun In my left hand. With a fine spurt of speed 1 covered several hundred yards. Sh» began kicking and squirming, and de manded: “Set me down! Set me down ’ You’ll git us both kilt!” I did as she requested, not because I was too’ weary to carry her farther but because her rifle was swinging wildly and striking the bushes and leaving a trail an ox could follow <TO BE CONTINUED, t

to float a second barrel down tin stream, ano again his raft wa> I smashed, the barrel broken, and tin oil wasted. This time Beaty left that | part of the country ami never- re ; turned. It is said that until his dea'i he believed he had penetrated into tin ! realm of the prince of darkness.—De troit News. - I Silly, Don’t You Know! The employei was very annoyed ai an accident that had damaged one <>t his moving vans. “Look here, Leary,' te said. “Jus' tell me what happened.” “Well.” replied the driver, “1 • asdriving my van up the street when a car shot out of a side turning, i pulled up dead, and a chap in a big car ran into the oack of my van.” The employer nodded briefl: “He jumped, out,” continued the other, “and shouted: ’Why didn’t you ptft your hand out? ■ “ ‘Put ou my hand, 1 says ‘lf vou couldn’t see the van, .how could you see my hand?’”—Cleveland News. Fancy of Women Little Patsy Is a youngster of eon siderabie Imagfaation and poise foi one of five years and always has an unusual slant on subjects which hei elders ponder. Attending a theater with her mothei recently, she sat enthralled through an organ recital of unusual poignancy When It was ended, she turned to het mother with a wistful smile and said “Mother, 1 would like to have a dress, like that music.” f'

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAL

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THERE WASN’T—THEN— Issis>® Witte (with subtle meaning)—“You

said, before our marriage, there wasn’t a fool in your family.” Hubby (with equal subtlety)—“There wasn’t —then.” The Hammer Wield er “He’s a tiresome gink and I hate to have to listen to him.” “Still, there Is one thing you always can learn from listening- to him.” “Yeah? That Is news. What is It?” “What’s the matter with the old hbme town.”

The New Neighbors Little Betty (bursting In all excited with the news) —Oh, mamma ! Mother—What is it, dear? Betty—That new little boy’s mamma is divorced, but they’re going to adopt a new papa some time next month. Timers Changes “Do farmers ever talk dialect any more?” “Mostly golf.”—Louisville Courier Journal.

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