CHAPTER XI
Henry knew full well that the rascally French trader could be in that vicinity for no good purpose. The enmity between Jean Bevoir and the Morrises was of too long standing to admit of any other conclusion.
He could not hear what was being said, but from the appearance of things saw that the Frenchman and his companions were on good terms with the red men who had attacked the trading-post. An animated discussion was going on, in which Jean Bevoir and Black Ear were taking the principal parts.
"I'll wager they are plotting to make another attack," said the youth to himself.
As well as he was able he counted the force now at hand. He had scarcely finished when, to his dismay, he saw another band of red men, nine or ten in number, approaching. They were greeted by Black Ear in a kindly fashion and then introduced to Jean Bevoir. The newcomers were all armed with rifles—weapons which some of the Indians who had participated in the first attack did not possess.
A few of the Indians were now moving directly beneath the hollow tree, and, for fear of being discovered, Henry slid to the bottom and entered the tunnel once more. He had to work his way to the post backward and this took considerable time.
"I am glad you are back," said his uncle. "I was afraid they might see you."
"You'd never guess who is out there with those redskins," returned Henry. "Jean Bevoir and two other Frenchmen, with some more Indians."
"Jean Bevoir!" ejaculated James Morris. "You are certain of this?"
"Yes, Uncle Jim, I saw him as plain as day."
"Will that rascal never get done molesting me?" muttered the trader. "You say he had two other Frenchmen with him?"
"Yes."
"It's a pity that Frencher wasn't killed long ago," said Tony Jadwin. "He don't deserve to live, he don't."
"He will assuredly aid those redskins in another attack upon this place," said James Morris.
Henry told of all that he had seen, and those inside, the trading-post listened with interest. The coming of the Frenchmen and the additional Indians put a new face on the matter, and James Morris shook his head doubtfully.
"It is possible they may be too many for us," he said to Jadwin. "If they once get inside the palisade I do not see how we are to fight so many of them."
"I'm ready to fight to the end," answered the old frontiersman.
An hour went by, and then came a call from one of the trees outside. It was Jean Bevoir himself who was speaking.
"I vant to talk to James Morris," he said, in strong French accents. "Vat I haf to say ees important."
"So it's you, Bevoir," answered James Morris, coming to a loophole but not showing himself. "Haven't you had enough?"
"I not come to talk of ze past," growled the Frenchman. "Maybe you know ze bad fix you be in,oui?"
"Perhaps I'm not in such a bad fix as you imagine."
"Ve haf many Indians here, and I am here vid some of my best hunters. If ve break in ze post, you can do nothing."
"We can fight."
"Bah! Ve are five to one. Bettaire listen to vat I say—if you vant to save your life."
"What have you got to say?"
"You march avay an' ve shall not touch you, not a hair of your head shall be harmed, I pledge my honaire."
"Your honor doesn't amount to a bag of sand," murmured James Morris.
"Jean Bevoir speaks the trut. Vill you go or vill you be butchered by ze Indians?"
"I'll talk it over with the others," said James Morris.
He felt that he owed it to his companions to consult them, since it might be a matter of life or death to them. There was not alone the danger of being shot down, but the still greater horror of being captured alive and tortured by the red men.
A vote was taken and it was learned that only two men were in favor of accepting Jean Bevoir's terms. One had been wounded and the other said he was sick. But the balance voted to fight to a finish.
"I'll not trust Jean Bevoir," said one of the hunters. "He is fully as treacherous as the redskins. He would let those Injuns do as they pleased with us, while he looted the post."
"That is exactly what I think," said Henry. "We had better fight for it, or try to leave the post on the sly."
It was not long after this that the French trader called out once more, demanding to know what they intended to do.
"We intend to fight, Bevoir," answered James Morris, firmly.
At this announcement Jean Bevoir muttered a loud imprecation not fit to place upon these pages, and withdrew. A minute later a fierce war-whooping was heard among the hostile Indians. Immediately the Indians in the post responded.
"Good! that will show 'em that we mean business!" cried Tony Jadwin, and gave a whoop on his own account.
Slowly the evening came on. There was a promise of snow in the air, and soon the thick flakes began to come down lazily, shutting out the landscape on all sides. So far the hostile Indians and Frenchmen had kept their distance, but all in the post felt that another attack might come at any moment.
In the midst of the suspense came a loud thumping on the puncheon logs that covered the entrance leading to the tunnel under the palisade. Two logs were thrown aside and there appeared a frontiersman, ragged and capless, and with a wound on his left hand.
"All-Glory Bidwell!" cried James Morris. "Where did you come from?"
"From the Miami!" gasped the newcomer. "Thank fortune I am here, although I see you, too, are surrounded by the red varmints." He was so exhausted he could scarcely stand. "I've been running steadily for eighteen or twenty miles," he added.
"Did you come from the fort up there?"
"Yes. The Indians surrounded us and we had a fearful fight. I reckon most of the men are dead. The Indians attacked Robertson's place, too, and Ike Barlow is dead. It's a general uprising, I'll warrant."
"Are any of those redskins coming this way?" asked Tony Jadwin.
"Yes, forty or fifty on 'em, and they are tuned to the top pitch for fighting, too. Pontiac has been preaching to 'em all winter. They say they are going to drive all the English out of the West."
"I thought it would come," replied James Morris. He gave a deep sigh as he thought of the time and labor he had spent on establishing the new post.
Another consultation was held, and it was resolved to fight, if the attack should come within a few hours. If it did not come, those in the trading-post were to pack a few of the things and leave in secret, providing such a movement could be accomplished.
"It's out of the question to leave by way of the tunnel, since the Indians now surround the hollow tree," said James Morris. "We had better try it by way of the old ditch."
The ditch he mentioned was one dug to drain water into the brook. During the summer it had been choked with weeds, and the brushwood was thick upon either side. Where it entered the brook there were half a dozen big rocks and an old willow tree.
A guard had been posted near the end of the ditch and so far he had discovered no hostile Indians in that vicinity.
"You may go down there and see if you think the coast is clear," said James Morris to his nephew, and Henry hurried off at once, rifle in hand, and with a pistol and a hunting knife in his belt.
The snow was now coming down more thickly than ever, and at first the youth could see next to nothing. Then of a sudden he made out the forms of two Indians coming forward slowly and cautiously.
Henry did not hesitate about action. In those days it was considered good policy to "shoot first and ask questions afterwards," and Henry acted on that policy. Up came his rifle, and as the firearm rang out one of the red men pitched forward in the snow badly wounded. The other leaped up and discharged his gun toward the post, but the shot did no damage.
Hearing Henry shoot, James Morris rushed to the spot, to find his nephew reloading.
"Brought down one Indian, a second got away," said the youth.
He was about to say more, but a fierce war-whoop rang out, drowning every other sound. On all sides of the trading-post the Indians sprang up as if by magic. It was plainly to be seen that there had been heavy reinforcements, and that the post was doomed.
"We must fly," said James Morris, sadly. "There is nothing else to do."
Even Tony Jadwin saw the force of this argument, and in a few minutes all in the post were making their way through the frozen ditch to the brushwood lining the brook. As they moved along the gates of the post went down with a mighty crash, and a score of red men entered the inclosure, and behind them came Jean Bevoir and the other Frenchmen.
"Spare zem not, zey deserve death!" came in the voice of the rascally trader. "Fight zem to a feenish!" And he discharged a pistol at the nearest man.
James Morris pointed his own weapon at Jean Bevoir. But as the hammer fell a red man leaped between unintentionally and received the bullet in the side. Then the trader had to flee and went along the ditch by his nephew's side. Shots were being fired in all directions, and several whites and Indians fell, either killed or wounded. One English trapper was scalped almost in front of Henry's eyes, who could do nothing to stop the deed, as his firearms were empty. A red man leaped upon James Morris, but Tony Jadwin sent him back by a blow from a gunstock.
"Give it to 'em!" roared Jadwin, dancing around. "Give it to the varmints!" And he rushed at another enemy and laid him low. But then he received an arrow in his shoulder, and was glad to follow his friends in their flight. Yells and groans resounded on all sides, and the hostile Indians continued to whoop as they ran from one building of the post to another, looking for any person who might have hidden himself. One sick trapper was found and he was tomahawked on the spot.
The majority of the enemy had concentrated at the front of the post and at one of the near corners, which was to the advantage of those trying to escape along the brook. By the time this flight was discovered, the Morrises and the others had reached the shelter of some trees. Then came a rush of the enemy, and shots flew thick and fast. But those from the post held the others in check and at last reached the forest.
"This way," said Jadwin. "I know a trail they'll have some difficulty in following," and he led the way under a cliff of rocks overhanging the Ohio River. Then he made a sharp turn to the eastward, and came out in another patch of timber where the underbrush was very heavy. Through the latter was a trail just wide enough for the passage of a single person. It was winding, so that to follow it was difficult, especially with so much snow falling.
From the post came loud shouts of triumph. The Indians and Jean Bevoir were now in sole possession, and those who had been forced to leave had brought next to nothing with them.
"We shall have to do what we can to reach Fort Pitt," said James Morris. "It is our one chance for safety."
He spoke the truth. Yet Fort Pitt was many miles away, and there was no telling how many dangers lay in the trail before them.