Less than an hour after leaving his nephew and Jadwin, James Morris reached the spot where the fearful encounter of the evening before had occurred.
The spectacle was one to make the heart of any onlooker turn sick, and a shudder passed through the frame of the trader as he gazed at the scene of desolation before him.
Close to the burnt-out camp-fire rested the form of Barnaby Cass, a well-known resident of Winchester, who had followed Barringford to the Ohio district in an endeavor to better his fortunes, A bullet had passed through his heart, and he must have died ere his body struck the ground.
A dozen paces away lay the corpse of the other white man, Oliver Lampton, well known through western Pennsylvania as the Trapper Preacher, because about half of his time was spent in hunting and trapping, and the remainder in preaching temperance to the whites and red men who indulged in liquor to excess. Beside Lampton lay one of the pack-horses, also dead, and another pack-horse lay a little further off, suffering greatly from two broken legs. To put this animal out of its misery James Morris fired a shot into its brain.
Great confusion was on all sides, for many of the packs had been broken open and rifled of their most valuable contents. About half of the stuff had been left behind, principally the goods of the greatest weight. Much that was breakable had been broken, and some valuable blankets that could not be carried off had been slashed and cut with keen knives, in a hasty endeavor to ruin them.
"The rascals!" muttered the trader. "If only we can get on their trail they shall pay dearly for their bloody work here."
Having surveyed the camp, he moved around among the trees and brushwood in the vicinity. He soon found the body of an Indian who had belonged to the pack-train party, and then another Indian who looked to be an enemy. The latter had his face painted in peculiar wavy streaks which the trader had seen twice before.
"The Wanderers!" he muttered. "I half suspected it might be so. This is the work of that rascal Flat Nose—and if that is so, he is moving northward with all speed to get away with his booty. More than likely some French hunters—ha!" He broke off short, for in the undergrowth he had caught sight of another form, that of a white man leaning against a fallen tree, with a gun clutched tightly in his stiffened hands.
"Baptiste Masson!" he muttered, naming a rough French hunter and trapper who, in years gone by, had worked for Jean Bevoir. "As I thought. It was a plot between the Wanderers and the French! They mean to drive me from the Ohio if they possibly can. Masson, eh? Can it be that Jean Bevoir, and Valette, and Bergerac were in it, too? More than likely."
The Frenchman was dead, and James Morris did not hesitate to take his gun and ammunition. He also searched the fellow's pockets, but found nothing of value, nor any clew which might lead to the identity of his companions in the outrage. A further hunt through the forest revealed where something of a struggle had taken place between two white men on foot, but both were gone, and the trail was lost in an adjacent brook, down which one had fled and the other had likely followed, at least for a distance.
The fact that he did not find the body of Sam Barringford gave James Morris hope. If the old frontiersman was not seriously wounded it was more than likely he was on the trail of those who had attacked the pack-train, with a view to finding out where they were going, or to ascertain exactly who was responsible for the affair.
"I know Sam will do what he can," he thought, and with this small degree of comfort he loaded his steed with such things as he could carry and started on the return to the trading-post.
It was a hard journey, and he did not reach the Ohio until long after nightfall. He found the post being guarded by five frontiersmen and eight Indians, who had been hastily called together as soon as Henry and Jadwin appeared.
"Father!" cried Dave joyfully, as he ran to meet his parent. "I am glad you are back safe."
"Has Henry come?"
"Yes, and I made him lie down, he was so weak. What an awful fight it must have been! Did you discover who did it?"
"Partly. One of the dead redskins was a Wanderer, and a dead white man was that good-for-nothing Baptiste Masson I have often mentioned to you."
"The fellow who traveled with Jean Bevoir?"
"The same. I am inclined to think that the attack was organized by FlatNose, of the Wanderers, and Bevoir. If you'll remember, Jadwin said FlatNose, Bevoir, and Valette were very friendly."
"What about Sam?"
"I couldn't find any trace of him, although I looked around pretty well."
"Sam carried fifty pounds of the money you sent for. Henry has the rest of it safe."
"I am glad of that. But I wish I knew about Sam. He may have run himself into a regular hornet's nest."
Nothing had happened to disturb those at the post itself, and James Morris lost no time in sending out two white men and two Indians, with horses to bring in what was left on the trail of his belongings.
It was found that Henry was not seriously wounded, and after a good night's sleep the youth felt much better. His mind was now clearer, and he related all the particulars of the attack as far as he knew them.
"I should judge there must have been, at least, six white men and twentyIndians," he said.
"They ran from tree to tree and had us at a disadvantage from the very start. I should have been shot dead if I hadn't got behind one of the horses. The redskins set up a fearful din after the white men shot off their guns. I was afraid every one of us would be killed and scalped."
"Thank God that you escaped!" murmured James Morris, and Dave breathed a silent amen. The following day found James Morris more impatient than ever to learn what had become of Sam Barringford. He wanted to go on a search for the old frontiersman, yet he did not deem it advisable to leave the trading-post, fearing that an attack might come during his absence.
"I will go out for you," said Jadwin "I'd do 'most anything fer SamBarringford. We have hunted and fit Injuns fer twenty-five years and more."
"And I'll go with Tony," put in Ira Sanderson. "I think we can hit the trail if any white men can."
The matter was talked over for fully an hour, and Dave took in what was said with deep interest.
"Father, let them go, and let me go with them," he said. "You know what I think of Sam. If he is in trouble, I want to aid him if it can possibly be done."
"You'll be safer here, Dave."
"Perhaps, but let me go, won't you?"
Dave continued to plead, and in the end it was settled that he should accompany Tony Jadwin and Ira Sanderson on the scouting tour. The three were to go on horseback, and were to return inside of four or five days, unless a turn of circumstances made it necessary to stay away longer.
"You take good care of yourself, Dave," said Henry, who was sitting on a bench with his head bound up. "Those Indians are on the warpath, and they mean business."
"Well, I'll mean business too, if I get a chance at them," replied the youth, with a short laugh.
From Henry it was learned that all at the Morris homestead were well. The twins were now able to walk and were very cute. In spite of all that had been done to learn something of their parentage, the mystery surrounding their identity was as thick as ever. A few inquiries had been made concerning them, but nobody had come forward to claim the pair.
"I reckon they are going to be Sam's twins after all," said Henry. "That is, unless something has happened to Sam. If he's dead—but no, I can't think that, can you?"
"I cannot," answered Dave soberly. "He's our best chum, isn't he? Oh, he must be alive!" He paused a moment. "But if he isn't, I reckon we'll have to keep the twins for him."
"Of course we'll have to keep the twins. My, but they are funny little chaps! Nell thinks the world of them, and mother and Rodney are just about as bad. I think, behind it all, the folks would rather keep them than have somebody come and take them away," concluded Henry.
Preparations for the departure were soon complete, and the party left the trading-post in the morning, long before the sun was up. It had been decided that they should go straight to the spot where the attack had taken place, and from that point do their best to learn what had become of Sam Barringford, and of the men who had run away with the goods.
"Remember, my son, to keep out of danger if you can possibly do so," was James Morris' final warning. "I would rather lose my goods a dozen times over than have anything serious happen to you."
"I'll do my best," answered Dave; and a moment later he rode away, little dreaming of the surprises in store for him.
It can truthfully be said that at the time of which I write, no hunter on the trail was more keen-eyed among the whites than Antonio Jadwin, who had been chosen as leader of the little expedition.
Tony Jadwin, as he was familiarly called, was English by birth, but had come to America while but a child of four. His folks had settled on the frontier, and both had been massacred in an uprising when the lad was less than sixteen. Tony had at once started in as a hunter and trapper on his own responsibility, and from that day to the present time had managed to earn for himself a comfortable if not a luxurious living.
He took to all sorts of shooting, trapping, and fishing as the proverbial duck takes to water, and could follow a deer trail almost in the dark. He had brought down all sorts of game, and his left shoulder showed deep scars dating back to a fierce face-to-face fight with a bear, in which he had, after a tough struggle, come off victorious.
Having arrived at the scene of the attack, Jadwin took a close survey of the situation, going over the ground far more observantly than had James Morris. Nothing escaped his keen eyes, and he quickly announced that Henry had probably been right in his estimate of the number of the enemy. He also pointed out Barringford's footsteps, and declared that the old frontiersman had most likely followed the others, after the pack-train was overhauled and looted.
It was nightfall by the time all these observations were made, and the three decided to go into camp at a convenient spot, not far away. While Dave prepared supper the others dug a large grave, and into this the bodies of Cass and Lampton were placed, and a stone was set up to mark the spot.
Jadwin would not allow all to sleep at once, declaring that a watch was necessary. "I'll stay awake a few hours, and then call Ira," said he, "and then Ira can call Dave." And so it was arranged.
Dave was tired by the hard journey, and it was not long before he was sound asleep. He did not awaken until four in the morning, when Sanderson aroused him.
"Why didn't you call me before?" he cried, leaping up. "I want to do my full share of duty while I am out with you."
"It's all right, lad," answered the other. "I'm not very sleepy myself, but a couple of hours won't do me any harm."
A brook was close by, and at this Dave took a washing up, which made him wide-awake. Then he began to gather some sticks with which to start up a blaze in order to cook the morning meal.
He had taken up half a dozen sticks when a sound not very far away caught his ears. He was on the alert instantly, thinking it might perhaps be some wild animal. A dozen paces away was his gun, and he dropped the firewood and caught up the weapon.
Hardly had he done so, when he saw the form of a burly French hunter stealing through the forest toward the spot where the attack had been made on the pack-train. Fortunately, the Frenchman did not look toward Dave, so he and his companions, and their steeds, were not discovered.
"That fellow is up to no good, that is certain," thought the youth, and lost no time in arousing his companions.
"A Frenchman, eh?" said Jadwin. "More'n likely one of the crowd come back to see if he can't take away what was left of the loot."
Making no noise, they followed the Frenchman, who was dressed in the conventional garb of the hunters of the Great Lakes. The newcomer moved forward swiftly, and they had all they could do to keep up with him.
The spot reached, the Frenchman gazed around with evident dismay. Probably he had expected to see what had been left of the pack-train still there.
"Gone!" he muttered, in his native tongue. "I have had my trip of thirty miles for nothing."
After a careful look around, he returned to the forest, and set off at a quick pace in the direction from whence he had come.
"Shall we leap upon him and make him a prisoner?" asked Dave, in a whisper.
"No," replied Jadwin shortly. "Keep quiet."
Dave now understood what was in the trapper's mind, and kept still, and in a moment more the Frenchman was out of sight, moving swiftly to the northwest.
"I will follow him on foot and blaze the trail with my hunting knife," said Jadwin, to Dave and Sanderson. "You can come after me with the horses. He will probably go straight to where the rest of the rascals are in camp."
In a minute Jadwin was off and the others were not slow to follow. As before mentioned, the trail led to the northwest, through an unusually thick growth of sycamores and hemlocks. Fortunately the way was well defined, being used by many wild beasts, in their trips between the Ohio and the Great Lakes.
The French hunter and trapper was a rapid walker, and Tadwin did not catch sight of the fellow for two hours after starting on the trail. Then he located the man sitting on a slight knoll, resting. He at once halted and kept his position until the Frenchman moved again, when he followed as before.
During the entire day the following was kept up in this fashion. Late in the afternoon the Frenchman stopped to prepare himself a meal, building a tiny fire between some stones for that purpose. Seeing this, Jadwin walked back a short distance and there met Dave and Sanderson, who had followed his blazed trail without difficulty.
"He's a good walker," was Dave's comment, as the three partook of food themselves. "How much further do you think he'll go to-night?"
At this query Jadwin shrugged his shoulders. "Tell you that, Dave, after he goes to sleep," he answered dryly.
The horses were tethered, and all three stole forward to take another look at the stranger. To their surprise he had sunk back in some bushes beside his little fire and was fast asleep.
"He is not going very much further to-night," whispered Dave. "Just listen to him snore!"
A consultation was held, and Dave was for stealing up while the man slept and seeing if his pockets contained anything which might lead to his identity. Jadwin and Sanderson were willing, and watched the young pioneer with deep interest as he moved slowly forward, screening himself by the very bushes that served the sleeping man as bed and pillow.
The Frenchman slept soundly, so the youth ran but a small risk of awakening him. With great caution he searched one pocket after another, finding a small amount of silver and several letters. With these he returned to Jadwin and Sanderson, and the three withdrew to look over the communications.
Tony Jadwin could read a little French, and in his labored manner he spelt out the two letters Dave had captured. By these they learned that the Frenchman was named Louis Glotte and that he belonged at Detroit, the settlement taken from the French by the English after the fall of Montreal. Both spoke of money to be made out of the English and were signed "Jean."
"That must mean Jean Bevoir!" cried Dave. "This Glotte must be another ofBevoir's rascally companions."
"To be sure," put in Sanderson, "And Bevoir must mean the attack that was made on the pack-train."
"I think he will rejoin Bevoir by to-morrow sure," said Tony Jadwin. "And then we may learn what has become of Sam."
While one or another remained on guard during the night the others slept. Dave, it must be admitted, was impatient to learn what had really become of his old frontier friend, and it was some time before he could bring himself to slumber. Near at hand was an owl hooting weirdly through the night. Under ordinary circumstances they would have scared the bird away, but now they did not dare, for fear of arousing Louis Glotte's suspicions.
The sun was just coming up when Sanderson called softly to the others. "He's moving," said the hunter, and in a few minutes Jadwin took to the trail as before, and the others came after with the horses.
The way was now more difficult than ever, and they had numerous small streams to cross. Then they came to a river, and before Jadwin could catch sight of the Frenchman again the fellow was in a canoe and hurrying to the other side.
"Now we are in a pickle truly," declared Dave. "How are we to get to the other side without a boat?"
"Wait until he's out of sight and I will show you," answered Jadwin.
Louis Glotte soon disappeared among the bushes, and then Jadwin led the way to where a fallen tree lay. "Tie up the horses," he ordered, and it was done. Next the tree trunk was pushed into the stream and all straddled it. By means of rude paddles cut from tree boughs they ferried themselves to the opposite shore.
"Wait! I see something!" murmured Dave, after having gone through the bushes which lined the water's edge.
"So I do see something," came from Jadwin. "Lay low until I investigate, boys."
Dave and Sanderson secreted themselves in the bushes and waited. Tony Jadwin disappeared and it was the best part of half an hour before he returned.
"Just as I thought," he said. "The Frenchmen and the Indians have a village back there, on the bank of a creek that flows into this river. Jean Bevoir is there, and also Jacques Valette, and I rather think all the stolen goods are there also."
"Did you see anything of Sam Barringford?" asked Dave, who was just then thinking more of his old friend than of his father's belongings.
"I did not. But I shouldn't be surprised if those Frenchmen and redskins had some prisoners," answered Jadwin. "They have one wigwam that they are guarding closely. If it doesn't contain prisoners, it contains something of great value."
For quarter of an hour the frontiersmen and Dave talked over the situation, but could not solve the problem of what was best to do next.
"To attack would be foolhardy, even if we hid ourselves among the trees," said Sanderson. "They'd drive us from cover sooner or later, and kill us."
"One of us might go back for help," suggested the young pioneer.
"I was thinking of that. But that would take time, and your father couldn't spare enough men to make it worth while. As near as I can make out there are six Frenchmen in the camp and nineteen red men, or twenty-five fighters in all. The most we could muster up would be ten or a dozen. That would be two to one."
"If they have any captives, and especially Sam Barringford, I wish we could release them."
"Let us wait until nightfall," suggested Ira Sanderson. "Something may turn up."
Not far away was a slight rise of ground, and behind some bushes on this they hid themselves. From this quarter they could get a fair view of the village and note much of what was going on.
They had scarcely settled themselves when they heard a shout, and an Indian who had been on guard came in with another Indian, who had just arrived on foot from a distance.
"It is an Ottawa!" murmured Jadwin. "One of the braves of Pontiac's tribe."
"He evidently has news," said Dave. "I wish we knew what it was."
Jadwin decided to crawl to another spot and learn if he could overhear what was being said.
This time he was gone the best part of an hour, nor did he return untilDave and Sanderson saw the strange Indian messenger depart.
"What did you learn?" asked the youth eagerly.
"A great deal," answered Jadwin hurriedly.
"We must get back to the trading-post without delay."
"Why?"
"The Indians are going to make an attack. The Miamis are up in arms. Pontiac has told them that if they do not destroy the forts and trading-posts the English will soon wipe them from the face of the earth."
"The Old Nick take Pontiac!" ejaculated Sanderson.
"I'd like to get on his trail and make him a prisoner," put in Dave.
"Another thing, Sam Barringford is Bevoir's prisoner."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. I heard Bevoir speak of it to another Frenchman. He says he will makeBarringford suffer before he is done with him."
"Oh, the rascal!" burst out Dave. "I wish—"
"Never mind, lad, I know how you feel. But every moment is precious. We must hasten to the post and prepare for the attack."
"Yes! yes! Come!" and Dave himself led the way.
Not to excite the suspicions of either red men or white, they did not use the canoe which was at hand, but recrossed the stream on the tree trunk which had brought them over in the first place. This done, they cast the tree adrift and lost not a moment in mounting their steeds.
"'Tis a long, long ride," said Jadwin. "But if the horses can make it without a night's rest, so much the better for us and for all of the others."
It proved a ride that Dave Morris never forgot. All that day and through the night the three pressed on, through the mighty forests and across the creeks and small rivers. More than once a horse would stumble and almost throw his rider, and the branches of the trees often cut them stinging blows across the faces and necks and hands. Once Dave received a long scratch on the left cheek from which the blood flowed freely, but he did not stop to bind up the wound, nor did he complain.
"To save father, and Henry, and the post!" Such was the burden of his thought. He remembered how that other post, on the Kinotah, had been attacked. Should the new post fall, he well knew that it would go hard with all who had stood to defend it.
When at last the post was gained Dave was more dead than alive. Chafed by his hard ride, and almost exhausted, he tumbled rather than leaped from the saddle. It was the middle of the night and the coming of the three had provoked a small alarm, so that all at the trading-post came to learn what was in the air.
Jadwin's story was soon told, and Dave and Sanderson corroborated it.Without delay James Morris called the whites and Indians around him.
"There is news that the French and Indians intend to attack this post," he said loudly. "Will you help me to save what is my own, or must I surrender?"
At once there was a hubbub. White Buffalo was the first to step to the trader's side.
"White Buffalo will fight for his brother James," said the Indian chief simply. "And his braves will fight also," and he motioned for the other Indians to follow him.
"I'm for the post, every time," cried Jadwin. "If I hadn't been, I shouldn't have been in sech a hurry to get back."
"Ditto myself," put in Sanderson.
"I reckon we air all with you," drawled one of the trappers. "We want anEnglish tradin'-post hyer, eh, boys?"
"That's the tune," added another. "The only question is, air we strong enough for 'em?"
"Got to be!" exclaimed Sanderson emphatically. "I'll fight 'em for all I know how!" muttered Henry. His rest had done him much good.
The details of the defense were quickly arranged, for James Morris had often speculated upon just what to do in such a situation as was now at hand. Everything left outside of the palisade was brought in and then the gates were closed, barred, and reenforced by large rocks which lay handy. This accomplished, every gun and pistol in the post was examined, cleaned, and put into perfect order for use, and powder and ball were dealt out liberally. The Indians also looked after their bows and arrows, and hunting knives and tomahawks were not forgotten.
By the time arrangements were all complete, the sun was shining in the eastern sky. Hour after hour passed and no strangers put in an appearance.
"But they will come, never fear," said Jadwin. "I've made no mistake."
"Somebody coming now!" shouted James Morris, who was near the gate. Amoment later an Indian came strolling along the bank of the river.Evidently he had expected to find the gate to the stockade wide open.Seeing it closed, he hesitated for a moment.
"Hoola!hoola!" he shouted. "Brown Bear come to trade!"
"Where are your furs?" asked James Morris, mounting some steps so that he could see over the gate.
"Furs in canoe on river," answered Brown Bear. His eyes were full of distrust and suspicion.
"You are one of the Wanderers, I believe," said James Morris. "You trade with the French, not with the English."
"Trade with English now," said the red man doggedly.
"You can't trade here, so pass on."
"No take furs from Brown Bear?"
"No."
"Make much cheap trade. Buffalo skin, too, an' bear."
"Bring them up till I see them."
"White man open gate."
"Show me your buffalo and bear skins," was all James Morris would answer.
With a grunt of disgust Brown Bear walked away and disappeared among the bushes.
"Do you think he really has the furs?" asked Henry. "I don't."
"No, Henry. He came to report what we were doing. He is a spy. We'll see some more of them soon."
[Illustration: 'Where are your furs?' asked James Morris]
Mr. Morris was right; half an hour later another Indian, accompanied byLouis Glotte, came into view from over the hill.
"Open the gate! Want to trade!" cried the Indian.
"Vat for you close ze gate, Meester Morris?" asked Glotte smoothly. "No fighting now, no!" And he laughed shortly.
"No, I don't reckon there will be any fighting," answered the trader. "But if it comes, I am ready for it. The Indian can't come in, but you can, if you wish." And he threw a ladder over the gate, keeping hold of the top.
Not knowing what a trap he was walking into, Louis Glotte spoke to theIndian in his native tongue and then mounted the ladder. As soon as theFrenchman was inside of the stockade James Morris returned the ladder toits original position.
"Don't you come too near!" he shouted to the Indian, and waved him away.
"I'll keep an eye on him, never fear," said Sanderson, who was at one of the port-holes.
"What want you of me?" demanded Glotte, as he gazed around at the armedEnglish and Indians in dismay.
"I want to talk to you," replied James Morris. "Come into the cabin with me."
More suspicious than ever, the Frenchman followed into the building slowly.Dave came after and so did Jadwin.
"Now, Glotte, you can consider yourself a prisoner," said James Morris shortly. "Place your gun on that table, and your pistol also."
Louis Glotte understood the true situation at last, and the cold sweat stood out on his forehead. James Morris had a pistol in his hand, and the Frenchman saw that all of the others were also armed.
"So I am your prisonair?" he said slowly. "For vat, tell me zat?"
"You know well enough," put in Dave.
As James Morris' pistol came up the Frenchman's gun was placed on the rough table and his pistol followed. Glotte might have showed fight, but he saw that such a course would be worse than useless. He had walked into a neat trap and with his eyes wide open.
"Louis Glotte," said James Morris sternly, "I want you to tell me the truth, do you hear? If you do not tell me the plain truth, you shall suffer."
"Vat ees it you vant?"
"Who organized the attack on my pack-train?"
"I know nothing of zat."
"Stop! You do know, and you must tell me."
The Frenchman grew pale and something like a shiver passed over him. He saw that James Morris was in no mood for trifling.
"Who—who say zat Louis Glotte know 'bout dat?" he asked stammeringly.
"I say so. You were there, for one."
"No! no! I—I vas far away!"
"Tell me who organized the attack."
"I—I cannot!"
"You can."
"No! no! I—I—I—Stop! Do not shoot me! I vill tell! Eet vas Jean Bevoir."
"I thought as much. Was Jacques Valette with him?"
"Oui!But say not I tell you, or za vill keel me!"
"And Hector Bergerac?"
The Frenchman shook his head. "Not Bergerac, no. He ees gone avay."
"Who were the others?"
After Considerable hesitation Louis Glotte named them over. Then James Morris questioned him concerning the Wanderers and learned that they had been headed by their chief, Flat Nose. The other red men he knew little about, but he said they were a dirty, irresponsible tribe, willing to do almost anything for the sake of getting provisions or rum.
"They think ze pack-train carry much rum," said Glotte. "Verra mad when za found out not so."
In the end he told practically all he knew, being assured that he would not be harmed if he made a full confession. Jean Bevoir and Flat Nose had led the attack, in which four of their party had been killed or wounded. What had been taken away was removed under the directions of Bevoir and taken to an Indian village "many miles away," as he expressed it. He said the red men were about a hundred and fifty strong, and had made Sam Barringford a prisoner. Of course he knew nothing of the visit of Dave, Jadwin, and Sanderson to the place, nor did James Morris enlighten him.
The trader then insisted upon knowing if an attack upon the trading-post was contemplated, and Glotte at last confessed that such was a fact. The man was a thorough coward at heart and willing to do almost anything in order to save his own life.
"We shall have to make you a prisoner for the present," said James Morris, and without ceremony Glotte's hands were bound behind him and he was tied to a strong post used for hitching purposes.
The Indian who had come up with the Frenchman had retreated to the forest, and for the time being not a human form was to be seen anywhere outside of the palisade. But the English did not relax their vigilance.
"Perhaps they'll wait until night to begin the attack," said Henry. "The redskins love to fight under cover of darkness—we know that too well."
"Or else the report that the gate is closed and the place guarded will dishearten them," returned his cousin.
Hour after hour went by and night came on. A stricter watch than ever was kept, but as before neither Indian or Frenchman showed himself. More than this, the night birds and owls uttered their cries as usual, mingled with the bark of a fox and the mournful howling of several wolves, all of which told that the vicinity was most likely entirely free from human beings.
"They wanted to catch us unawares, and they have discovered their mistake," said one frontiersman; and such was probably the case, for the whole of the night and the following morning passed without further alarm.
Some of those at the post were now impatient to go out and follow up the enemy, but others demurred, stating that their numbers were too small.
"If those wretches are in hiding, they'd wipe us out in no time," saidSanderson. "Better stay where we are for the present."
Nevertheless James Morris and Tony Jadwin went out, on a short scouting expedition, along the river and then for a few hundred feet into the forest. They advanced with great caution, taking care not to expose themselves in the open, and carrying their guns ready for use, should any of the enemy show themselves.
"We cannot afford to take many chances," said James Morris, as they moved forward. "Our force at the post is too small."
"Wish we had a company of Royal Americans here, to knock 'em out," saidJadwin.
Three hours were spent on the scouting tour, and both of the men were on the point of turning back to the fort, satisfied that the Frenchmen and Indians had indeed given up the proposed attack, when they heard the sound of rapid footsteps, and a man burst into view, running with all his might and main.
"Halt!" cried James Morris, who at the first sound had raised his musket, while Jadwin did the same.
"Don't shoot!" came back, in the well-known voice of Sam Barringford.
"Sam!" cried the trader, lowering his weapon, "what does this mean?"
"It means I'm 'most out o' breath with runnin'" gasped the old frontiersman. "But git to the post—the French and Indians air a-comin'!"
Sam Barringford had come up close to the others, and now without more words all three headed for the post. It was easy to discern that the old frontiersman was well-nigh exhausted, and he was glad enough to take hold of James Morris' shoulder on one side and Tony Jadwin's on the other.
"Been a prisoner of them skunks, fire burn 'em!" he explained. "I'll tell ye all about it later. Have ye heard o' Henry, an' the others?"
"Yes, Henry is safe and so are most of the others. Cass and Lampton are dead. We were afraid you had been killed, too, until Louis Glotte told us you were a prisoner." And then James Morris told of the manner in which Dave, Jadwin, and Sanderson had followed up the trail.
"Glad ye got Glotte a prisoner," said Barringford. "He is 'most as mean a skunk as Jean Bevoir."
They now came in view of the post and were quickly admitted by those on guard.
"Sam Barringford!" cried Dave and Henry in a breath, and ran up to greet their old friend.
After he had been fed and allowed to rest a bit, Barringford told his story in detail. He said he had followed Jean Bevoir and the others to the river near which the Indian village was located. A stray Indian dog had exposed his hiding place, and after a desperate fight in which one Indian had been killed and he himself had been cut in the shoulder with a tomahawk, they had succeeded in making him a prisoner. He had been put into the wigwam already mentioned, with his hands bound behind him and to a stake driven deeply into the soil. He knew of the message sent in by Pontiac, and added that numerous other attacks were to be made on forts and settlements throughout the West.
"But how did you get away?" asked Dave.
"Easier nor I expected," was the old frontiersman's answer. "As soon as it was settled the post should be attacked there was some confusion, and the guard left the wigwam. I yanked and pulled with all my might and at last the stake came out of the ground. Then I rolled to the back of the wigwam and slipped under the skins to some bushes. As soon as I was that far, I got on my feet and legged it for all I knew how. I ran along the river for about a mile, because I didn't know how to get across with my hands tied. At last I got the rawhides loose and slipped 'em, and then I came over at a shallow spot where I didn't have to swim but a few yards. I ran as fast as I could, for I didn't know how soon the attack would start."
"Something has gone wrong, or they would be here by this time," put inSanderson.
Glotte viewed the coming of Sam Barringford with great astonishment. "How you geet avay?" he asked.
"That is my business, Glotte," answered the old frontiersman. "I reckon you thought I couldn't do it, eh?" And he chuckled to himself.
"Zat fellow ees a sharp one," was the Frenchman's comment. "He ees like ze flea to slip avay,oui!"
Throughout the remainder of the night the guard remained as watchful as ever. But it was labor lost, for neither French nor Indians showed themselves.
At daybreak White Buffalo said he would go out on another scouting tour, taking with him two of his braves. They moved off by the way of the river bank and then made a large semicircle, returning to the post from a diametrically opposite direction.
"Wanderers and bad Frenchmen all gone," announced the chief, on coming back. "They came, but did not fight."
"Do you mean to say that they have been here?" cried James Morris.
White Buffalo nodded several times. "Five canoes come down the river, land by the four big trees. The trail is in the mud and the wet grass—so many Frenchmen"—he held up five fingers—"and so many Indians"—holding up both hands twice and then four fingers, a total of twenty-four.
"Where did they go to?" asked Henry.
"Go into the woods and stand. Two walk around to the hill—one canoe land on other side of river and Indians go up past the post—then come back. Then all gone once more. Afraid to fight! The Frenchmen and the Wanderers are cowards!" And the face of the Delaware showed his deep disdain.
"It must be true," put in Sanderson. "They most likely met the Indian who came here first, and then the fellow with Glotte, and both told 'em it would be of no use—that we were too strong for them."
"Well, if they are gone, I hope they don't come back again," said Dave, and a number standing around echoed the sentiment.
The Indians did not return, and in forty-eight hours the scare was over, and the hunters and trappers sallied forth from the trading-post as before, confident that Sanderson had been right,—that the enemy had thought the little garrison too strong for them.
But this was a mistake. Jean Bevoir and Flat Nose had been eager for the fight, but word had come in at the last moment that the attack must be put off, and such was the power of Pontiac and other great chiefs of that vicinity that Flat Nose obeyed. As it was impossible for the handful of Frenchmen under Bevoir to do anything alone the whole scheme fell through, and then Bevoir lost no time in getting back to where he had left the loot from the pack-train, claiming that which had been allotted to him and his men, and getting away further to the northwestward, where he felt tolerably safe from pursuit.
How far the conspiracy to fall upon the English on the frontier in the summer of 1762 was concocted by Pontiac will perhaps never be known. Some historians have contended that he was responsible for it in its entirety, while others have told us that the real Pontiac conspiracy was confined to the awful uprising which took place just one year later. But be that as it may, it is undoubtedly true that Pontiac hated the English intensely and that it galled him exceedingly to see them pushing further and further to the north and the west. His own lands around the Great Lakes were being invaded, and when his tribe went to the English for redress they got but scant attention.
The summer of 1762 proved to be one of anxiety and uncertainty for all on or near the frontier. To the northward the Iroquois, or Mingoes as they were commonly called, were held in check by Sir William Johnson, but in western New York and western Pennsylvania the Wyandots, the Shawanoes, and certain tribes of the Delawares did what they could to harass the pioneers, burning cabins and sheds at night, stealing crops and cattle, and occasionally murdering men, women, and children, or carrying the latter off into captivity. There were no battles, but the pioneers and frontiersmen retaliated, and as winter came on the feeling of bitterness increased. No one felt safe, and all wondered what new outrage would happen next.
The Delawares have been mentioned as taking part in these evil doings, and as White Buffalo and his followers were Delawares, it is but right that their standing should be explained. In years gone by the Delawares had been a mighty tribe, numbering over a hundred villages of importance. But internal strife had done its work, and now the villages were widely scattered, so that Delawares could be found from Virginia in the South to the Great Lakes in the North and as far west as the Mississippi. Those who remained near the eastern coast generally sided with the English, while the others either strove to remain neutral or threw in their fortunes with the French.
It must not be supposed that James Morris allowed matters to rest after it became known that no attack would be made upon the trading-post. He wished to recover the stolen goods and also the fifty pounds which had been taken from Sam Barringford by Jean Bevoir at the time the old frontiersman was a prisoner at the Wanderers' village.
An expedition was organized, consisting of the trader and seven whites and Indians, and they remained out the best part of a week, hunting for the Wanderers and for Bevoir and his companions. But the Wanderers had moved and Bevoir had likewise disappeared, and the trail was lost at the river bank.
"I suppose I can say good-by to both money and goods," said James Morris soberly. "I declare, it's too bad!"
"I'll try to make it right with ye about the money," said Barringford.
"No, Sam, I don't want you to do that. You did your best and it's not your fault that the money is gone, nor the goods either. But I'd give a few pounds to get hold of Bevoir and his crowd."
As the days went by it was decided by James Morris not to send to the East for more goods until late in the fall, the goods to be brought to the trading-post early in the spring. Louis Glotte was allowed his liberty and immediately disappeared.
Both Dave and Henry were very anxious to go out on a regular hunt with Barringford, and this was arranged for several weeks after it became positively known that all hostile whites and red men had left the neighborhood of the trading-post. The hunting tour was to last a week or ten days, and the young pioneers made their preparations accordingly.
"Sam, we must get a buffalo this trip," said Henry. "Nothing less will satisfy me."
"Easier said nor done, lad," answered the old frontiersman. "The hunters an' trappers have scart 'em putty far to the westward. Howsome-ever, we can try our best to lay one low."
"I want to get a bear," said Dave.
All were feeling in fine spirits when the start was made, and James Morris came out of the post to see them off. All were on horseback, for Barringford had said that a buffalo hunt was generally in the open where riding was fairly good.
"Now don't you get into any more trouble," were Mr. Morris' parting words."We've had trouble enough to last us a lifetime."
"We'll do our best to steer clear of it," answered his son.
The evening of the first day found them in a territory that was entirely new to both Dave and Henry, although Barringford had been over the ground several times. Only some small game had been seen, not worth powder and shot, as the old frontiersman put it, and they made their evening meal from some fish which Henry managed to catch. While Barringford was preparing the fish, both of the young pioneers took a swim in the river, where the water was cool and refreshing.
"This is something like!" cried Dave, as he splashed around.
"You're right there," answered Henry. "Only I don't want any more wildcats tumbling down on my head from the trees," he continued, referring to an adventure which has already been told in "Marching on Niagara."
"I don't believe there are any wildcats around here, Henry. The place seems utterly deserted. I reckon we'll have to travel a day longer before we strike game. The old hunters have been over the ground too thoroughly."
"It's not half as bad as it will be, when more settlers come here."
"That is true."
The young pioneers felt in fine spirits, and as Barringford was slow in getting the evening meal prepared, Henry proposed a swimming match.
"I'll race you to yonder big rock and back!" he cried, pointing to a round stone resting on the opposite bank, under a thick, overhanging tree. "The best piece of fish in the pan to the one who wins!"
"Done!" returned Dave. "Are you ready to start?"
"Yes. But wait, let us call Sam, and he can start us." And he yelled to the old frontiersman.
"Want to race, eh?" said Barringford. "All right, if ye ain't too tired after sech a ride as we've had. All ready? Then go it, both on ye! Go!"
Away they went, side by side, each cutting the clear water with a firm, broad stroke, for both could swim well.
"It's goin' to be nip an' tuck, I reckon!" went on Barringford, as interested as if the youths were matched for a heavy purse. "I must say I don't know who to shout for! Do your best, both on ye! Now, Dave, that won't do!"
For Dave had fallen behind a few strokes. But Henry could not keep the speed at which he had started, and slowly but surely his cousin reached his side once more and then went a foot and more ahead.
"Henry, this won't do!" sang out the old frontiersman. "Don't you let Dave git the best on ye! Strike out an' make it a tie!"
Thus encouraged, and laughing to himself, Henry put on another spurt, and while Dave was still four yards from the big rock came up alongside as before.
"Now ye have it!" roared Barringford. "Keep the pace, both on ye! The feller to lose gits walloped, an' the winner gits the King's Cross an' a purse of a thousand pounds! Tech the rock fair an' squar', or I'll call the race off!" And Barringford slapped his thigh in high glee. To see such a contest took him back to his boyhood days, and he half wished he was in the race himself.
Both reached the rock at precisely the same time, and rested heavily on it for a second, so that Barringford might see that it was really and truly "teched," as he expressed it. It was somewhat over their heads, and in the water at their feet they could feel the sprawling roots of the tree behind it.
Then, exactly how it happened would be hard to tell, but without warning the great rock suddenly slipped from the river bank and went into the water with a loud splash, carrying the two swimmers down under it!
Barringford saw the catastrophe and for the instant he stood spellbound. It was as if the light of day had suddenly given way to the darkness of night. Both of his young friends were gone, carried to the bottom by that huge rock which had seemed such a safe point for the turn in the race.
The old frontiersman waited a few seconds—to him they seemed an eternity—and then, as neither Henry nor Dave reappeared, he plunged hastily into the river and swam in their direction with all his might and main. He was a good swimmer, and now desperation lent strength to his muscles.
He was in midstream when he saw a head bob up, and an instant later he recognized Henry. The youth was panting for breath.
"Henry!" he called out. "Henry! Whar is Dave!"
"I—I—don't know!" came with a gulp and a gasp. "That rock was—was almost the de—death of me!"
"Dave must be under it!" groaned the old frontiersman. "We must help him, or he'll be drowned!"
"Yes! yes!" Henry tried to catch his breath. "Oh, Sam, what shall we do?"
He tried to look down into the water, but the falling of the rock had dislodged a quantity of dirt also, and what had before been so clear was now muddy, so that little or nothing could be seen excepting the top of the stone, which now lay about six inches below the surface.
"Can't you see him at all?" queried Barringford, after a painful pause.
"I can't see anything. Oh, this is awful!"
"Dive an' take a look!" ordered the old frontiersman, and taking as good a breath as his condition would allow, Henry went down, to catch hold of the sprawling roots with his hands and try his best to locate the body of his cousin. But the muddy water made his eyes smart, and seeing was practically out of the question. More than this, the great rock was slowly sliding outward, to the deeper part of the stream, so he had to watch out for fear of being caught once more.
"Didn't see him?" asked Barringford, as he came closer.
"No, it's too rily."
"I'll go down myself."
Barringford was as good as his word, and went down without an effort, his water-soaked clothing aiding him to sink. He caught hold of the rock and the roots and strained his eyes in all directions. Then the rock began to move once more, and he had to get out of the way just as Henry had done.
"I'm afraid it's all up with the poor lad," he said, when he could speak."If he's down there, he's drowned by this time."
"Don't let us give up, Sam," pleaded Henry, and started to go down once more, when the rock turned completely over, and a long tree root flew up close to the surface of the stream.
"There he is!" shouted Barringford, and swam forward. He was right, the tree root had brought up the body of Dave, and the young pioneer lay before them, his eyes closed and nothing giving any indication that he was still alive. Both swam to it, and in a second more they had it in their arms and were making for the shore with their burden.
"Sam, do you think he will live?"
Over and over Henry asked the question as he and the old frontiersman worked over the inanimate form they had brought to shore from the waters of the river.
"Hope so, Henry, but I can't tell yet," was Barringford's answer. "We'll do all we can, and trust the rest to God."
Both worked with a will, doing whatever they thought was best. Barringford held Dave up by the ankles and allowed much of the water to run from the unfortunate's mouth, and then they rolled the youth and worked his arms and rubbed him.
At first it looked as if all their efforts would be in vain, and tears gathered in Henry's eyes. But then they saw Dave give a faint shudder, followed by a tiny gasp.
"He's comin' around!" shouted Barringford, in a strangely unnatural voice."Praise Heaven for it!"
But there was still much to do before Dave could breath with any kind of regularity, and they continued to rub him and slap him, while Barringford forced him to gulp down a small quantity of stimulants brought along in case of emergency. Then a fire was started up, and later on Henry brought over the youth's clothes, for to take Dave across the stream was out of the question.
For over an hour Dave felt so weak that neither of the others attempted to question him. Both helped him into his clothes, and gave him something hot to drink, and made him comfortable on a couch of twigs and leaves.
"I thought my time had come when I went under," he said, when he could talk. "The rock pinned me down between the tree-roots, and if it hadn't been for the roots, I suppose I should have been crushed to death. I held my breath as long as I could, and then I gulped in some water and lost my senses."
"It was truly a narrow escape," was Barringford's comment. "I didn't expect no sech accident when I let ye go into the swimmin' match."
"Did you go under, Henry?"
"Yes, but I soon got myself loose," was the reply. "I was almost scared stiff when you didn't come up, Dave. After this we'll have to be more careful than ever."
"It was wuss nor thet wildcat, I reckon," came from Barringford.
"I should say so," returned Henry promptly. "It almost makes me vow never to go in swimming again."
As Dave continued to feel weak it was decided to remain where they were all of the next day. Henry procured a log and some brushwood, and on these ferried over their things, and he likewise tied up the horses, so that they might not stray away.
By morning Dave felt more like himself, and he would have gone ahead on the hunt, but Barringford would not permit it.
"We have plenty of time," said the old frontiersman. "You jest lay around in the sun, an' you'll feel better for it."
"Well, then, you and Henry can go out," insisted Dave. "There is no reason why you should suck your thumbs waiting for me."
At this the others demurred, but about noon, having had a lunch, Barringford and Henry set out, promising to return before sundown. They had not expected to hunt on this side of the river, but, now they were there, the old frontiersman said they might see what they could stir up.
The camp had been pitched behind some bushes that fringed the river bank. Close at hand was a clump of trees, and back of these was the edge of the mighty forest, yet unspoiled by the ax of the pioneer. Not far from the camp was a small brook where the water rushed over a series of sharp rocks, making a murmur pleasing to hear.
Having straightened out the camp, Dave took Barringford's advice and lay down in the warm sunshine to rest. The little work that he had done had tired him more than he was willing to admit, and, having closed his eyes to do some thinking, he quickly fell into a sound slumber which lasted for several hours.
When he awoke all was still around him, and he rubbed his eyes, wondering what had aroused him. Then he caught sight of a tiny squirrel sitting bolt upright at the foot of the nearest tree, gazing curiously at him.
"Hullo, you little rascal!" said Dave, good-naturedly. "So you ran across me, did you? What kind of an animal did you take me for?"
The squirrel continued to gaze at him, but at his first movement to arise, the frisky animal gave a swish of his brush and was gone up the tree in a twinkling.
"Don't believe in making friends, that's sure." went on the young pioneer as he stretched himself. "Heigh-ho, but I must have slept pretty soundly, and for three hours at least! Well, it was as good a way as any to put in the time."
The sunshine had made Dave thirsty, and presently he walked to the brook to get a drink. As he was in no hurry he took his time, and, consequently, made little or no noise.
He had parted some low bushes, and was just looking for some favorable spot at which to bend down, when something caused him to look up the brook. There, to his astonishment and delight, he beheld a beautiful fawn, standing in several inches of water, watching some birds which circled close by.
"Oh, what a shot!" was Dave's thought, and as quietly as a mouse he fell back out of sight and then ran to where he had left his gun. The weapon was ready for use, and soon he was at the brook once more.
There was no breeze blowing, and the only sound that broke the stillness was the rushing of the little watercourse and the songs of half a dozen birds in the vicinity. The fawn was still there, but seemed to be on the point of running away; why, Dave could not tell.
Not to let such a chance to bag tender meat escape him, the young pioneer took hasty aim and fired. The bullet sped true, and, with a convulsive leap into the air, the fawn fell into the shallow brook dead.
While the smoke was still pouring from his gunbarrel, Dave caught sight of a larger deer, previously hidden from view by some brushwood. Scarcely had he laid the fawn low when another gunshot rang out, and this deer also went down, kicking convulsively.
"Hullo, Sam and Henry must be near!" he thought, and ran forward to make certain that the second animal should not get away. At the same time he set up a shout, so that neither of the others might fire on him by mistake.
But the second shot bad been almost as true as the first, and by the time he came up the large deer was breathing its last.
"Hullo!" he shouted. "We must have spotted these deer at exactly the same time."
No answer came back to this call, and now Dave looked around with surprise.If Henry and Barringford were near, why did they not show themselves?
"It's mighty queer," he muttered to himself. "If they—hullo! HectorBergerac!"
Dave was right, and an instant later the French hunter and trapper stepped into the opening. He gazed around sharply to see if the young pioneer had any companions with him. His clothing was almost in tatters, and his general manner showed that he had been having a hard time of it.
"Are you alone, Morris?" was his first question.
"Perhaps I had better ask you that question," came just as quickly from the young pioneer.
"Yes, I am alone," was the answer. "I was making my way to your father's trading-post when I saw the deer and shot it."
"And I shot the fawn. What were you going to do at the trading-post?"
"I wish to talk to your father on matters of business."
"Did Jean Bevoir send you?"
At the mention of Bevoir, Hector Bergerac's face grew dark and took on a look full of bitterness.
"No, he did not send me, I came of my own accord. I was a fool to go with him in the first place, and that is why I wish to see your father."
"Did you have anything to do with the looting of the pack-train?"
"No! no! I am not a robber of the road, like Bevoir and Valette. They wanted me to go into the thing, but I refused. Then we quarreled, and I went my own way. But after that Jean Bevoir made me a prisoner—he and Flat Nose—thinking I was going to tell upon them. I was a prisoner until yesterday, when I managed to get away, taking this gun with me. For twenty-four hours I have tasted nothing but one little bird, and I am half starved."
"You say you want to see my father," went on Dave after a pause. "May I ask what you wish of him?"
"I want to tell him of some plans Bevoir and Flat Nose have made. They wish to make trouble."
"Are they near here?"
"No, they are going away for the present. But they will be back, either in the winter or the spring."
Hector Bergerac was willing enough to go into the camp with Dave, and between them they dragged the fawn and the large deer to the spot. The fire was started up and some venison set to broiling, and of this the Frenchman partook liberally, proving that he was indeed half starved.
"You cannot be alone," he ventured, while eating. "Where are your companions?"
"They are off on a hunt, but will soon be here," answered Dave; and half an hour later Barringford and Henry put in an appearance. They were doubly astonished, first upon seeing Bergerac and then upon seeing the game. Their own luck had not been very good, and they only had a few birds and a beaver to their credit.
They listened with interest to what Bergerac had to tell, and when the Frenchman had warmed up he related the full particulars of how Bevoir, Valette, and Flat Nose had concocted the plan to loot the Morris' pack-train, corroborating Glotte's story in all details. He said that all the Frenchmen with Bevoir knew that it was nothing but an act of thievery, but that some of the Indians had looked upon it merely as the beginning of the new uprising against the English, an uprising which he considered had been started by Pontiac and those under the great chief.
"I am no longer for war," he concluded. "I wish only for peace, and I am sorry that I did not remain in the St. Lawrence territory. The war has cost me all that I possessed. It was not much, but it was enough. Now I must start over again."
"If you will do what is square, my father will be glad to deal with you, and he will pay you all your skins are worth," returned Dave. "But you must not play him false."
"He can trust me, take my word upon it," said Hector Bergerac. "I have thought it over, and I feel certain that French rule in this country is at an end. England is too strong for us. To fight longer would be like striking one's head against a stone wall."
"Which shows that you have some sense," put in Barringford. "I must say I'm sick o' war too. Let us all go to huntin,' I say, an' make money. If the French an' the English would unite, we'd have nothin' to fear from the redskins."
"But they will not unite, it is not in their nature. But if they will only keep the peace, it will help greatly," concluded Bergerac.
He was worn out from traveling and glad enough to remain with the others over night. He dressed his deer and said he would take the skin to the trading-post, and also such a part of the meat as he could readily carry.
"He probably means to turn over a new leaf," said Henry, after Bergerac had departed. "I hope he does."
"He seemed to be mighty anxious to see your uncle," put in Barringford.
"Well, if he can save Uncle James from serious trouble, I hope he does it."
"What a scoundrel Jean Bevoir is!" put in Dave. "Wouldn't you think that, after all his upsettings, he would be content to rest and do what was right?"
"Some men are born that way, lad," said the old frontiersman. "It's in their nature. He won't stop bein' bad until he's killed or dies a natural death; no two ways on't."
"I think Jacques Valette must be about as bad."
"More 'n likely—blackbirds generally flock together. But I don't reckon that Valette is the schemer Bevoir is—he don't keep sober enough."
"I've often wondered if it wasn't Bevoir who robbed Valette that time." ventured Dave. "I think he'd be equal to it."
"Like as not—or else Valette dropped his money on the trail an' never knew it."