``Davy, take care of my Tom,'' cried Polly Ann.
I can see her now, standing among the women by the great hewn gateposts, with little Tom in her arms, holding him out to us as we filed by.And the vision of his little, round face haunted Tom and me for many weary miles of our tramp through the wilderness.I have often thought since that that march of the volunteer company to join Clark at the Falls of the Ohio was a superb example of confidence in one man, and scarce to be equalled in history.
In less than a week we of Captain Harrod's little company stood on a forest-clad bank, gazing spellbound at the troubled waters of a mighty river.That river was the Ohio, and it divided us from the strange north country whence the savages came.From below, the angry voice of the Great Falls cried out to us unceasingly.Smoke rose through the tree-tops of the island opposite, and through the new gaps of its forest cabins could be seen.
And presently, at a signal from us, a big flatboat left its shore, swung out and circled on the polished current, and grounded at length in the mud below us.A dozen tall boatmen, buckskin-clad, dropped the big oars and leaped out on the bank with a yell of greeting.At the head of them was a man of huge frame, and long, light hair falling down over the collar of his hunting shirt.He wrung Captain Harrod's hand.
``That there's Simon Kenton, Davy,'' said Cowan, as we stood watching them.
I ran forward for a better look at the backwoods Hercules, the tales of whose prowess had helped to while away many a winter's night in Harrodstown Station.Big-featured and stern, yet he had the kindly eye of the most indomitable of frontier fighters, and I doubted not the truth of what was said of him--that he could kill any redskin hand-to-hand.
``Clark's thar,'' he was saying to Captain Harrod.``God knows what his pluck is.He ain't said a word.''
``He doesn't say whar he's going?'' said Harrod.
``Not a notion,'' answered Kenton.``He's the greatest man to keep his mouth shut I ever saw.He kept at the governor of Virginny till he gave him twelve hundred pounds in Continentals and power to raise troops.Then Clark fetched a circle for Fort Pitt, raised some troops thar and in Virginny and some about Red Stone, and come down the Ohio here with 'em in a lot of flatboats.
Now that ye've got here the Kentucky boys is all in.Icome over with Montgomery, and Dillard's here from the Holston country with a company.''
``Well,'' said Captain Harrod, ``I reckon we'll report.''
I went among the first boat-load, and as the men strained against the current, Kenton explained that Colonel Clark had brought a number of emigrants down the river with him; that he purposed to leave them on this island with a little force, that they might raise corn and provisions during the summer; and that he had called the place Corn Island.
``Sure, there's the Colonel himself,'' cried Terence McCann, who was in the bow, and indeed I could pick out the familiar figure among the hundred frontiersmen that gathered among the stumps at the landing-place.As our keel scraped they gave a shout that rattled in the forest behind them, and Clark came down to the waterside.
``I knew that Harrodstown wouldn't fail me,'' he said, and called every man by name as we waded ashore.
When I came splashing along after Tom he pulled me from the water with his two hands.
``Colonel,'' said Terence McCann, ``we've brought ye a dhrummer b'y.''
``We'd have no luck at all without him,'' said Cowan, and the men laughed.
``Can you walk an hundred miles without food, Davy?''
asked Colonel Clark, eying me gravely.
``Faith he's lean as a wolf, and no stomach to hinder him,'' said Terence, seeing me look troubled.``I'll not be missing the bit of food the likes of him would eat.''
``And as for the heft of him,'' added Cowan, ``Mac and I'll not feel it.''
Colonel Clark laughed.``Well, boys,'' he said, ``if you must have him, you must.His Excellency gave me no instructions about a drummer, but we'll take you, Davy.''
In those days he was a man that wasted no time, was Colonel Clark, and within the hour our little detachment had joined the others, felling trees and shaping the log-ends for the cabins.That night, as Tom and Cowan and McCann and James Ray lay around their fire, taking a well-earned rest, a man broke excitedly into the light with a kettle-shaped object balanced on his head, which he set down in front of us.The man proved to be Swein Poulsson, and the object a big drum, and he straightway began to beat upon it a tattoo with improvised drumsticks.
``A Red Stone man,'' he cried, ``a Red Stone man, he have it in the flatboat.It is for Tavy.''
``The saints be good to us,'' said Terence, ``if it isn't the King's own drum he has.'' And sure enough, on the head of it gleamed the royal arms of England, and on the other side, as we turned it over, the device of a regiment.
They flung the sling about my neck, and the next day, when the little army drew up for parade among the stumps, there I was at the end of the line, and prouder than any man in the ranks.And Colonel Clark coming to my end of the line paused and smiled and patted me kindly on the cheek.
``Have you put this man on the roll, Harrod?'' says he.
``No, Colonel,'' answers Captain Harrod, amid the laughter of the men at my end.
``What!'' says the Colonel, ``what an oversight! From this day he is drummer boy and orderly to the Commander-in-chief.Beat the retreat, my man.''
I did my best, and as the men broke ranks they crowded around me, laughing and joking, and Cowan picked me up, drum and all, and carried me off, I rapping furiously the while.
