CHAPTER XX
The fact that Sam Barringford had been captured by the Indians filled Dave with consternation. He had fully expected that the old frontiersman would be able to evade the red men and return to where he had started from without much difficulty.
"Poor Sam," he murmured, as he saw his old friend surrounded and made a prisoner. "This is the worst yet!"
Not knowing what to do, Dave remained in the tree. He saw one of the red men appropriate Barringford's rifle and horn, and another snatched the coonskin cap from the old frontiersman's head. Then the captive was led away, out of sight.
"I must help him if I can," was Dave's one thought, as he descended to the ground. "Sam would do his best for me if I was in his place, and I must do the same."
Slowly and cautiously the youth made his way through the forest and around the rough rocks with which the neighborhood abounded. Feeling that the Indians might be ready to pounce on him at any moment, he kept eyes and ears on the alert, and did not make a step until he was almost absolutely certain that it was safe.
At last he came in sight of the Indians once more. By their dress and war paint he saw that they were Ottawas. He counted twenty-two Indians, including an under chief, who could easily be remembered by the fact that he had but one ear. This was Falling Star, afterwards known as the terror of the lake shore, because of his peculiar bloodthirstiness. Falling Star was said to have killed two other Indian chiefs, and at the end of the Indian wars lost his life by being carried over Niagara Falls in his canoe.
Dave could see that some of the Indians were questioning Sam Barringford. Evidently the replies from the old frontiersman were not satisfactory, for the red men made angry gestures, and one spat upon the old hunter. Then the Indians withdrew for a conference, leaving Barrington tied to a tree.
"Oh, if I could only release him," thought Dave, and crawled a little closer. But this was not to be, for a moment later an Indian came forward, rifle in hand, to stand guard over the prisoner.
The Indians imagined that Barrington was carrying dispatches from Fort Pitt to Detroit. They had heard that a messenger was on the way, and they insisted upon it that the old frontiersman tell them the news. As Barringford could not do this, they grew exceedingly angry, and the majority voted to burn the prisoner at the stake, in hopes of making him talk.
It was not long before the preliminaries for the burning were complete. The top of a young sapling was cut off, and the tree trimmed into a post and then Barrington was bound tightly to this. In the meantime some of the red men gathered a quantity of dry brushwood which they heaped around the prisoner up to his waist.
These preparations made Dave faint at heart, for he understood only too well what they meant. His best loved old friend was about to die and not only that, but to die in a manner too horrible to contemplate. Shudder after shudder passed through the youth and he clutched his rifle nervously.
These preparations made Dave faint at heart.
These preparations made Dave faint at heart.
These preparations made Dave faint at heart.
"They shan't do it! I'll—I'll kill as many of them as I can first," he muttered, and aimed his piece at the head of Falling Star.
Sam Barrington realized his peril as fully as did Dave, and stirred his brain for some means of escape. He remembered that the Indians were exceedingly superstitious and that they hated to have anything to do with a crazy person.
"Ha! ha!" he roared, at the top of his voice, and gave a shrill laugh, long and piercing. "Ha! ha! he! he! So you would light the fires and make of me a candle to light the way. What will Pontiac say to that? Know ye not who he is? He is my grandfather. And the King of France is my father. Ha! ha! Now are you surprised? Try to burn me and the waters of Niagara shall turn back and put out the flames. I am the brother of a great magician and fire cannot touch me." And then he began to sing an old ditty, with the words badly mixed:
"Old Baldy went into the woods,To shoot a bear,He met the Injuns, had a fight,They tried to git his hair.Bing! bang! went Baldy's gun right quick.It made the Injuns awful sick—He killed them all so mighty slick.Hurrah, for Baldy!"
"Old Baldy went into the woods,To shoot a bear,He met the Injuns, had a fight,They tried to git his hair.Bing! bang! went Baldy's gun right quick.It made the Injuns awful sick—He killed them all so mighty slick.Hurrah, for Baldy!"
"Old Baldy went into the woods,To shoot a bear,He met the Injuns, had a fight,They tried to git his hair.Bing! bang! went Baldy's gun right quick.It made the Injuns awful sick—He killed them all so mighty slick.Hurrah, for Baldy!"
"Old Baldy went into the woods,
To shoot a bear,
He met the Injuns, had a fight,
They tried to git his hair.
Bing! bang! went Baldy's gun right quick.
It made the Injuns awful sick—
He killed them all so mighty slick.
Hurrah, for Baldy!"
For fully five minutes Sam Barringford kept up his wild talking and singing, much to the Indians' astonishment. They crowded around, and looked at one another.
"Why sings the white hunter like this?" asked one.
Instead of answering the old frontiersman began to tell a wild and wonderful tale of a bear who stole a gun and shot an Indian who had killed her cubs. Then he began to sing once more, in a wilder fashion than ever. He rolled his eyes, and worked his ears back and forth—a trick he had learned when a boy—and clicked his teeth together.
"He is mad—he has lost his reason," said one of the warriors.
"He is only shamming," cried Falling Star.
"No, no, he has surely lost his reason," said another Indian. "Hark to him!"
"We cannot burn one who is mad," said an old warrior, gravely. "It would bring evil upon us."
At once a hot discussion arose, and while it was going on, Sam Barringford continued to rave and sing, and then uttered shrieks that were truly piercing.
At last some of the Indians could not stand it longer and coming forward they released the prisoner. Instead of running away, Barringford began to dance, and rushing up he hugged first one red man and then another, laughing horribly the while.
This was too much for the Indians who were superstitious and half the band backed away, while the others stood irresolute. Then, to cap the climax, Barringford took his gun from one of the warriors and instead of pointing it at the fellow, aimed it at his own breast and dared the Indian to pull the trigger.
"You cannot kill me," he cried. "I am Mau-le-lala, the Cloud Boy."
This was too much for some of the Ottawas. There was a legend among them that an Indian boy, who had done wrong, had turned into a white boy and sailed away in the clouds, to become the sport of the thunder and lightning. They shrank still further away, and as they did so, Barringford danced around and made strange leaps, using his rifle as a vaulting pole.
The antics of the old frontiersman took him close to where Dave was in hiding, and suddenly he caught the youth's eye.
"Away, ye Evil Spirits, away!" he roared, and waved his hand in a fashion that Dave understood. Instantly the youth withdrew, moving in the direction of the lake.
"Falling Star says he is only shamming," insisted the chief of the band.
"But if we make a mistake——" came from a follower.
There was no time for further argument. Calculating his chances, Barringford edged his way to where a big rock stood in front of a fair-sized thicket. With a bound the old frontiersman cleared the rock, struck among the bushes, and went tearing along in the direction Dave had taken. Soon the youth heard him coming.
"Sam!"
"Go on, Dave!" answered the old frontiersman. "Leg it, lad, leg it! In another minit they'll be arfter us like a pack o' hungry wolves."
"You fooled them nicely."
"Yes, but it remains to be seen ef I've gained anything by it. Ef they catch me they'll torture me good, don't forgit thet."
No more was said just then, and one behind the other they continued to force their way through the thickets, moving, as well as they were able, in the direction of Lake Erie.
"Here is a little brook, supposing we take to that?" said Dave, a little later. "Water leaves no trail, you know."
"Yes, lad, and the brook will take us to the lake."
"Have you any idea how far we are from the shore of the lake?"
"Not exactly, but I should say ten to fifteen miles."
"We won't dare to go out on the lake in the daytime."
"We can sleep in the daytime and travel at night."
They followed the brook for over a mile. Then the waterway appeared to double on its course, and they left it and continued to journey northward. Here the forest was not so heavy and consequently they covered the ground at a better rate of speed. They looked back many times, but no Indians came into view.
"I reckon as how we got the best on 'em," said Barringford, coming to a brief halt. "The trail through the thickets and along the brook has baffled 'em."
"I hope we never see them again," said Dave, shuddering. "It was a grand thing for you to act as you did."
"I remembered of a hunter in Bedford deestrict doing that same, Dave. He got the Injuns so worked up none o' 'em would come anywhar near him."
They had lost all their provisions and other things, and the old frontiersman was capless, for which, however, as the weather was warm, he did not care. Coming to a spring among the rocks, both took a drink and bathed their faces and hands. A squirrel was close at hand and Dave brought him down with an arrow.
"That will give us a bite to-night," he said. "And if we reach the lake we can do a little fishing."
The course was now directly down a gentle slope leading to the lake shore. The forest was thick, and more than once they got caught in a pocket and had to go around. There were pitfalls among the rocks, and Dave went down once, barking his shin and scratching his hand.
But such mishaps now counted for nothing. Having escaped from the enemy both felt light-hearted, and they kept tramping along until sunset. Then Barringford had Dave boost him up into a tree.
"The lake is just ahead," he announced. "There is a cove to the left, which I think will make a fust-rate stopping-place."
On they went as before. Dave was now footsore and exhausted and glad to think that a night of rest was so close at hand. Reaching the lake, they took a careful look around and then trudged to the cove the old frontiersman had mentioned. Not a single trace of the Indians could be discovered, and they almost buried themselves in a hollow, backed up by rocks and fronted by thick clumps of trees.
"We won't dare to make a fire until after dark," said Barringford. "The smoke would betray us."
They rested for half an hour and then both tried their luck at fishing. But bites were scarce and each caught only one small fish.
"Never mind, that will do till morning," said Dave. "I'm too tired to try for more. I'd rather go to bed half hungry."
With care they built a tiny fire deep down among the rocks, so that the light could not be seen from a distance. Over the blaze they broiled the squirrel and the fish and then sat down to enjoy the meal.
"Do you think one of us ought to stay on guard?" asked Dave.
"It might be safer, lad, but considering all things, I reckon we can risk it to-night. We can put out the fire, and get back in the bushes, and I don't think they'll locate us. It's going to be a dark night. Maybe it will rain."
But little more was said, and Dave soon turned in. Barringford followed his example, and five minutes later both were sleeping soundly.