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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Pioneer Boys on The Great Lakes, by Harrison Adams.
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 46795 ***</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 537px;">
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<hr class="full" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/ifrontend.jpg" width="600" height="432" alt="front endpapers two men on bluff overlookig water" />
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<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p>
<div class='maintitle'>THE PIONEER BOYS ON<br />
THE GREAT LAKES</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 257px;">
<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="257" height="248" alt="Native Chiief in letter I" />
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<div class='adtitle2'>OR: ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS</div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p>
<div class='bbox'>
<div class='adtitle2'>THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES</div>
<p class='center'>BY HARRISON ADAMS<br />
<br />
ILLUSTRATED</p>
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<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="230" height="208" alt="buts of man in coonskin cap and buckskin shirt" />
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="books and prices">
<tr><td align="left"><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO,</b></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or: Clearing the Wildernes</span></td><td align="right">$1.25</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><b>THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES,</b></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or: On the Trail of the Iroquois</span></td><td align="right">1.25</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI,</b></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or: The Homestead in the Wilderness</span></td><td align="right">1.25</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI,</b></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or: In the Country of the Sioux</span></td><td align="right">1.25</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE,</b></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or: Lost in the Land of Wonders</span></td><td align="right">1.25</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><b>THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA,</b></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or: In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest</span> </td><td align="right">1.25</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p> </p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 41px;">
<img src="images/decoration.jpg" width="41" height="16" alt="decoration" />
</div>
<p class='center'><br />
<big>THE PAGE COMPANY</big><br />
<big>53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass.</big><br />
</p>
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 338px;"><a id="frontispiece"></a>
<img src="images/i004.jpg" width="338" height="536" alt="Group next to large waterfall" />
<div class="caption">"'KEEP AGAINST THE ROCK, ALL!' SAID KENTON, WHO WAS IN THE LEAD"<br />(<i>See<a href="#Page_261"> page 261</a></i>)</div>
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p>
<div class='bbox'>
<div class='center'><b>The Young Pioneer Series</b></div>
</div><div class='bbox'>
<h1>THE PIONEER BOYS<br />
on the<br />
GREAT LAKES</h1>
<p class='center'><big>OR: ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS</big></p>
</div><div class='bbox'>
<p class='center'>
<span class='author'>By HARRISON ADAMS</span><br />
<span class='authorof'>Author of "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio," etc.</span><br />
<br /><br /></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 222px;">
<img src="images/i005.jpg" width="222" height="275" alt="wilderness man holding rifle looking around tree" />
</div>
<p class='center'><br /><br />
Illustrated and Decorated by<br />
CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL<br />
</p>
</div><div class='bbox'>
<p class='center'>
<big>THE PAGE COMPANY</big><br />
<big>BOSTON</big> <img src="images/fleur.jpg" width="26" height="24" alt="fleur-de-lis" /> <big>PUBLISHERS</big><br />
</p>
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p>
<div>
<img src="images/i006a.jpg" alt="man by tree" width="203" height="351" class="splitr" />
<img src="images/i006b.jpg" alt="man by tree" width="313" height="37" class="splitr" />
</div>
<p class='copyright'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<i>Copyright, 1912, by</i><br />
<span class="smcap">L. C. Page & Company.</span><br />
<small>(INCORPORATED)</small><br />
————<br />
<i>All rights reserved</i><br />
<br />
First Impression,<br />
September, 1912<br />
<br />
<br />
Second Impression,<br />
May, 1916<br />
<br />
<br />
THE COLONIAL PRESS<br />
C. H. SIMONDS & CO.<br />
BOSTON, U. S. A.<br />
</p>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
<h2>PREFACE</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">To My Young Readers</span>: Many of those
among you who have read the first volume of
"The Young Pioneer Series" may be pleased
to again make the acquaintance of the two
border lads, Bob and Sandy, as well as others
who figured in the earlier tale. Among these
might be mentioned the Irish trapper, Pat
O'Mara; Kate, the pretty little sister of our
two heroes; Blue Jacket, a young Shawanee
warrior, destined later to become famous in
history; and Simon Kenton, perhaps the best
known among the friends of Daniel Boone.</p>
<p>In this new story concerning the adventures
of David Armstrong's boys I trust that you will
find much to interest you. It is my earnest
hope that such lads as read these stories of
daring deeds along the frontier, in those early
days of the history of our country, may not only
find them intensely entertaining, but instructive
as well.</p>
<p>I have tried to show what a sterling type of
character, even in young boys, the stern necessities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span>
of those perilous days produced. Self-reliance
was absolutely needed in order to successfully
cope with the multitude of dangers by
which the pioneers of the Ohio and Kentucky
border were surrounded.</p>
<p>And, when you have finished the present volume,
I can only hope that you will agree with
me in saying that Bob and Sandy were splendid
specimens of undaunted boyhood, and a credit
to their Scotch ancestry. I also trust that you
will be eager to meet them again at no very distant
time in other fields of daring, whither the
roving spirit of Sandy, who has taken Simon
Kenton as his ideal hero, may, in company with
his brother, be tempted to rove.</p>
<p class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">Harrison Adams.</span><br />
</p>
<p><i>August 10th, 1912.</i></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 108px;">
<img src="images/i008.jpg" width="108" height="144" alt="Indian in wolf's head" />
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 299px;">
<img src="images/i009.jpg" width="299" height="151" alt="Indian poling long through water" />
</div>
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents and book spine">
<tr><td align="left"><img src="images/isidetitle.jpg" width="102" height="500" alt="book spine" />
</td><td align="left"><div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
<tr><td align="left" colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td>
<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="left"> </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Preface</span></td>
<td align="right"><a href="#Page_v">v</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">I. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Alarm Bell</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">II. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Seeking Refuge at the Blockhouse</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">III. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Bee Tree</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">IV. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Watching for the Honey Thief</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">V. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Strange Bear Hunt</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">VI. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Serious News</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">VII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Three French Trappers</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">VIII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Simon Kenton, the Borderer</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">IX. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Moccasin Tracks that Toed-in</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">X. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Blue Jacket's Warning</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XI. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tending Their Traps</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Cruel Parting</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XIII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Grand Hunt</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XIV. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Black Beaver Strikes</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XV. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">On the Trail of the Iroquois</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XVI. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Bark of the Red Fox</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XVII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Perils of the Wilderness</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XVIII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Big Water at Last</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XIX. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Bitter Disappointment</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XX. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Pontiac in the Council</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_220">220</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXI. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Prisoners</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Tables Turned</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXIII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Cavern of the Water Spirits</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXIV. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Kenton's Life with the Indians</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXV. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Birch-bark Message</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXVI. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The War Dance</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXVII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Pontiac's Peril</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_301">301</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXVIII. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">When All Seemed Lost</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXIX. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Word of an Indian Chief</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_323">323</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="right">XXX. </td>
<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Safe at Last</span></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_335">335</a></td>
</tr>
</table></div>
</td></tr>
</table></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 130px;">
<img src="images/i010.jpg" width="130" height="201" alt="Man in buffalo head" />
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 149px;">
<img src="images/i011.jpg" width="149" height="204" alt="Indain kidnapping girl" />
</div>
<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations">
<tr><td align="left"> </td>
<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="left"><div class='hang1'>"<span class="smcap">'Keep against the rock, all!' said Kenton, who was in the lead</span>" (<i>See <a href="#Page_261">page 261</a></i>)</div></td>
<td align="right"><i><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="left"><div class='hang1'>"<span class="smcap">'Whoop! there she goes!'</span>"</div></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="left"><div class='hang1'>"<span class="smcap">The bear all the while kept on creeping out closer and closer</span>"</div></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="left"><div class='hang1'>"<span class="smcap">Plainly marked against the face of the harvest moon, they could see the head and shoulders of an Indian brave!</span>"</div></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="left"><div class='hang1'>"<span class="smcap">The boys saw the sheen of his satiny sides as he sprang</span>"</div></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td align="left"><div class='hang1'>"<span class="smcap">Dancing as they circled the flames</span>"</div></td>
<td align='right'><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td>
</tr>
</table></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;">
<img src="images/i012.jpg" width="252" height="321" alt="kidnapped girl outside of teepee" />
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
<div class='adtitle2'>The Pioneer Boys on the<br />
Great Lakes</div>
<h2>CHAPTER I<br />
<small>THE ALARM BELL</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Hark!</span> Bob, what can all that shouting
mean?"</p>
<p>"I'm sure I don't know, Sandy."</p>
<p>"It comes from the other side of the settlement,
doesn't it?"</p>
<p>"True enough, brother; for you see the wind
carries the sounds; and that is now in the
west."</p>
<p>"Oh! I wonder what it can be; and if it
means trouble for us, after all these months of
peace!"</p>
<p>The two Armstrong boys, Robert and Alexander,
who usually went by the shorter names
of Bob and Sandy, stood resting on their hoes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
while listening anxiously to the rapidly increasing
clamor.</p>
<p>In the clearing close by stood the cabin of the
Ohio settler, David Armstrong. The time was
close to early fall, at a time when the strained
relations between England and her American
colonies had almost reached the breaking-point.
But away out here, far removed from civilization,
the hardy pioneers were only concerned
regarding possible uprisings of the red men;
and the widening of their fields, where corn
might be cultivated profitably, and tobacco
grown.</p>
<p>Early in the preceding spring the Armstrong
family, consisting of David, his gentle wife,
Mary, the two lads, now fifteen and sixteen
years of age, and a young sister named Kate,
had left their Virginia home to dare the unknown
perils of the wilderness in the hope of
bettering their condition.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p>
<p>During the long summer, now drawing to a
close, the dozen or more families constituting
the little settlement on the bank of the Ohio
had been joined by a number of new arrivals,
so that by degrees they formed a strong colony.</p>
<p>Some of the fears that had oppressed the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>more timid of the first settlers now began gradually
to vanish, as they saw their numbers increasing,
with a corresponding addition to the
fighting men of the border post.</p>
<p>Daniel Boone had been an early friend of
these Ohio settlers. He it was who had really
piloted them to this fair site for a town, on the
hill which afforded a magnificent view up and
down the beautiful river.</p>
<p>Taking the advice of the famous pioneer, a
strong blockhouse had been built as soon as
possible. This was completely surrounded by
a high and stout palisade, behind which the defenders
of the place might find shelter from the
enemy in case of an attack.</p>
<p>Thus, even while peace seemed to be hovering
over the section, these cautious settlers were
constantly prepared for any Indian uprising;
and there was even a code of signals arranged,
whereby those most remote from the central
station were to be warned in case of need.</p>
<p>Twice during the summer Daniel Boone had
favored them with brief visits, while on his way
back and forth between the distant Virginia
plantations and his own settlement far down
in the heart of Kentucky.</p>
<p>But Boone had little time for visiting that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
particular season. While the Armstrongs and
their neighbors were enjoying a comparatively
peaceful summer, the reverse was the rule
around the settlement that had been pushed far
out on the frontier line and located at Boonesborough.</p>
<p>Enraged by the boldness of these pioneers,
the Shawanees, aided by some of the Delawares,
and even Cherokees, made desperate efforts to
wipe out the gallant little bands that had been
drawn to the outposts of civilization by the
prospect of the rich land.</p>
<p>Rumors reached the Ohio settlers from time
to time of the serious difficulties their fellow
settlers were encountering. These served to
keep them on their guard, so that they did not
fall into a false sense of security.</p>
<p>Whenever Bob and Sandy Armstrong went
into the great forests to seek game, or discover
likely places where their traps might be set to
advantage in the approaching autumn, they
were always warned before leaving home to
keep constantly on the watch for Indians. If
they met with one or more red men they were
never to fully trust any professions of friendship,
for the settlers of that day did not have a
high opinion of an Indian's word.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
<p>These two lads were fairly well versed in the
ways of woodsmen. They had always been
accustomed to roaming through the forest after
game; and, besides, they had received many a
hint concerning the secrets of the wilds from a
genial Irish trapper, named Pat O'Mara.</p>
<p>This worthy was in a measure possessed of
the same unrest that caused Daniel Boone to
keep almost constantly on the move. In the
case of O'Mara, however, it was simply a desire
to see new sights, and encounter novel perils,
that caused him to wander through unknown
countries, rather than any keen longing to open
up rich farming lands to civilization.</p>
<p>Occasionally the Irish trapper dropped in unexpectedly
at the Armstrong cabin; but after a
few days' rest his uneasy spirit would again
cause him to disappear.</p>
<p>This very morning, while they worked in
their little patch of ground, Bob and Sandy
had been talking about their quaint Irish
friend, and wondering where he might happen
to be at that time, since they had not seen him
for over a month.</p>
<p>When the new settlement was in its infancy
the Armstrong boys, feeling that conditions had
changed, began to alter their dress. It was one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
thing to be living in Virginia, not so very far
from the sea coast; and quite another to be
hundreds of miles inland, beyond the great
chain of mountains that served as a barrier between
them and the oppressive tax collectors of
the king across the water.</p>
<p>The homespun woollen garments gave way to
those which nearly all hunters and forest
rangers of that day delighted in. Thus, while
both lads boasted of tanned buckskin tunics,
and nether garments, fringed and ornamented
with colored porcupine quills, besides real Indian
moccasins, after the manner of the attire
worn by Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton and the
witty Irish trapper, Bob also owned a cap made
of coonskin, with the tails dangling down behind;
while his brother's was fashioned from
the cured skins of gray squirrels.</p>
<p>They had, of course, left the outer garments
at the cabin when starting out, that morning,
to accomplish a little hard work in the fields
that had been planted earlier in the season, for
the day was quite warm.</p>
<p>Besides the sound of the ax, or it might be
the crash of a falling tree, there were not many
loud noises heard as a rule about the settlement.
Sometimes a dog might give tongue as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
he chased after a rabbit that had ventured too
near the borders of the colony; again, a proud
rooster, that had been carried so carefully over
these hundreds of miles of rough country to his
new home, would wake the echoes by his clarion
crow. It was a busy time for the settlers, and
even the older children were compelled to do
their share of labor in these first few months
on the Ohio.</p>
<p>So it can be easily understood that, when the
Armstrong lads heard that constantly increasing
series of loud shouts, they felt the blood
leaping through their veins both in curiosity
and alarm.</p>
<p>Sandy, always impulsive, threw his clumsy
hoe to the ground, and, jumping over to the
adjacent tree, against which their flint-lock
muskets leaned, caught up his own weapon with
trembling fingers. (<a id="Note_1b"></a><a href="#Note_1">Note 1.</a>)<a name="FNanchor_A_2" id="FNanchor_A_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_2" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p>
<p>Bob was the more composed of the two, and
it was his voice that now restrained his brother.</p>
<p>"Wait, Sandy," he said, "we are not so far
off but that we can reach the cabin quickly."</p>
<p>"But, listen to all that noise, Bob," returned
the other, fingering his gun eagerly. "Surely
something has happened. Perhaps another
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>tree has fallen the wrong way, and this time
done worse than what happened to our father."</p>
<p>The matter to which Sandy referred had been
an unfortunate accident whereby David Armstrong
had barely escaped with his life. A
tree he was chopping had by some means
twisted around in falling, so that the settler
was caught under the heavy limbs. Only by
what seemed a miracle had his life been spared.
As it was, he still had an arm in a sling, and
was unable to keep up the work he had planned,
so that a double duty devolved upon his sons.</p>
<p>"No, I don't think that can be the trouble,"
continued Bob, slowly. "I heard no crash of a
tree. Besides, I fear that there is a note of
alarm in the cries; it is as if men were answering
each other. There! that time I could almost
hear what was being shouted, only the
breeze changed a second too soon."</p>
<p>"Could it be Daniel Boone who has come, or
perhaps that young ranger, Simon Kenton,
whom you and I liked so much when we saw
him long ago?" suggested Sandy, with new
eagerness; for, to tell the truth, he had greatly
admired Kenton when the young friend of
Colonel Boone visited the new settlement, and
he secretly aspired to follow in his footsteps.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
<p>"No, I am afraid it cannot be that," Bob
went on, soberly. "They might shout in that
case; but there would be joy, and not fear, expressed.
Hark! there it rises again! You
have keen hearing, Sandy; did you not make
out what our neighbor, Peleg Green, was calling
then?"</p>
<p>Sandy turned a pale face toward his companion.
These two boys had been through
numerous perils in common, and were possessed
of a great measure of courage; but,
after all, they were only half-grown lads, and
the sudden coming of this unknown peril filled
them with dread.</p>
<p>"I am not sure, Bob," he replied, with quivering
lips; "but I believe I could catch something
that sounded like—<i>Indians</i>!"</p>
<p>His brother nodded his head at these words.</p>
<p>"I did not like to say so, for fear I might
have been mistaken; but it sounded like that
to me," he said, gravely.</p>
<p>Now it was Bob who dropped his hoe, and
stooped to possess himself of his gun. Carefully
he looked to see that the priming was in
order, since everything always depended upon
a small pinch of powder being in the pan when
the time for firing arrived. The flint never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
failed to strike sparks; but, lacking powder,
these would be of no avail.</p>
<p>"Had we not better run for the house?"
suggested Sandy, glancing over across the field
toward the cabin, where the smoke arose from
the clay chimney, the whole forming a peaceful
scene in the sunshine of that late summer morning.</p>
<p>"They have not heard the sounds yet, I
think," said Bob, as he failed to note any signs
of excitement around the log cabin; "and it
would be cruel to frighten mother, if there is no
need. Let us wait a bit longer, Sandy. We can
easily cover that little distance if there is necessity."</p>
<p>So the boys continued to stand there, gripping
their guns, and waiting. Meanwhile it
can be readily understood that both lads turned
anxious eyes in all directions.</p>
<p>"It seems to me the shouts are not so loud
as before," said Bob, presently.</p>
<p>"That might be because the running men
have reached their homes," quickly remarked
his brother.</p>
<p>"Perhaps we had better go to the cabin.
We can say we came in for fresh water, if
mother wonders at seeing us. After all it may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
amount to nothing;" but, hardly had Bob Armstrong
completed this sentence, than a new
sound came to their ears that sent them running
like mad in the direction of the humble home in
the clearing.</p>
<p>High above all else came the harsh notes of
the alarm bell that had been hung in the blockhouse
to give warning of sudden impending
danger!</p>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio."</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_A_2" id="Footnote_A_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_2"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The notes will be found at the end of the book.</p></div></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER II<br />
<small>SEEKING REFUGE AT THE BLOCKHOUSE</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Look!</span> there is father coming out! He has
heard it now!" gasped Sandy, as he ran.</p>
<p>"And with poor little mother close behind
him, waving her arms to us to hurry. But
where can Kate be, do you think?" asked Bob,
as a sudden suspicion came flashing into his
mind.</p>
<p>"Perhaps at the spring. She often sits
there, and plays. Surely she could not be in
the cabin, and fail to follow mother," his
brother declared.</p>
<p>"Keep straight on, and I'll go to see!"
called Bob, suddenly turning aside from the
straight course they had been pursuing.</p>
<p>Sandy hesitated, for he wished to accompany
his older brother; but, during their many
hunts, he had come to look upon Bob as the
leader, and gradually fallen into the way of
obeying any instructions the other might see
fit to give. So he continued on to the cabin,
where his parents were waiting so anxiously.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
<p>Mary Armstrong had darted back into the
large front room, and now once more came into
view, carrying the settler's trusty gun. Though
his left arm was still in a sling, David Armstrong
gripped the weapon with determination
written on his sun-browned face. In defence
of his loved ones he would forget his injuries
for the time being, and, if need be, fight desperately.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, what of Bob?</p>
<p>The spring from which the Armstrongs secured
their drinking water bubbled up from the
mossy ground under the trees at some little distance
from the cabin. It was reached by a circuitous
path, well beaten from frequent pilgrimages
to and fro.</p>
<p>Jumping over bushes that intervened, for he
was too eager to follow the winding path even
when he struck it, Bob quickly came in sight of
the spring. His heart was almost in his throat
as he discovered the well known sun-bonnet of
his pretty sister, Kate, hanging to the bush
that overspread the spring; but failed to see
the slightest sign of the girl.</p>
<p>Cold with the fear that oppressed him, he
continued to advance. What if Kate had already
been carried off by some wandering red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
man? With the vast wilderness stretching all
around for hundreds of miles, how would they
ever know where to look for her?</p>
<p>"Kate! Oh! Kate!" he called, stopping
short in his suspense to listen.</p>
<p>Then, to his great delight, a voice answered
him; and the girl arose from a shady nook
where she was accustomed to amuse herself.</p>
<p>Apparently she had paid no attention to the
brazen sound of the alarm bell, being so
wrapped up in her play. But, when Bob sprang
to her side, and caught one of her hands in his,
the girl's face grew white with fear.</p>
<p>"Oh! what is it, Bob?" she cried. "What
has happened? The bell—I didn't notice that
it was sounding! Is there a fire? Has any one
been hurt like father was?"</p>
<p>"It must mean Indians!" answered Bob, as
he hurried her along.</p>
<p>After that dreadful word had passed his lips
there was no further need of urging. Kate's
feet seemed shod with fear, and she even led
him in the race for the cabin. There she was
enfolded in the motherly arms and hurried
within, to be hastily burdened with several
small packages in case they were compelled to
flee for safety to the blockhouse.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
<p>David Armstrong and the two lads stood
without, guns in hand, listening. The bell had
now stopped its wild clamor; but they knew
that if it again burst out it would mean the
worst. And thus, with every sense on the alert,
they waited.</p>
<p>While peace had so long hung over the
favored settlement on the Ohio, those who composed
the little colony knew well what an Indian
attack must signify. True, few if any of
them had had more than the one experience
when the pack train had been assailed in the
night while they were on the trail; but they
were not apt to forget the fierce whoops of the
savages, on that occasion, which had been ringing
in their ears ever since.</p>
<p>David had built his cabin after the most approved
fashion known among pioneers of that
perilous time. The walls had loopholes between
the logs in certain places, where guns
could be thrust out and fired into the faces of
advancing foes. Even the small windows were
secured with heavy shutters, fastened from
within, so that it would require considerable
skill and labor to effect an opening, should the
inmates be besieged.</p>
<p>But, of course, it was not the plan of David<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
and his fellow settlers to remain thus isolated,
if an opportunity came whereby they could
gather in the blockhouse, which was always
kept prepared for the reception of the colony.</p>
<p>Mary was now busying herself in closing and
fastening these shutters. Bob sprang to assist
his mother, ever mindful of her comfort, for he
was a thoughtful lad at all times. Impulsive
Sandy had just as warm a heart, but was more
inclined to be careless and short sighted.</p>
<p>Then, without warning, once more that fearful
sound broke forth! The bell was giving out
its second call, which meant that every soul
within hearing would do well to hasten without
delay to the central point.</p>
<p>Perhaps, after all, it might prove to be a
needless alarm; but, under the circumstances,
no one could take the chance of being caught
napping. For aught they knew those cruel
Shawanees had finally overcome the valiant defenders
of far distant Boonesborough, and, determined
to wipe out every settlement west of
the Alleghanies, were now advancing north to
the Ohio River region with their victorious
bands.</p>
<p>"Wife, that settles it!" said David Armstrong,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
firmly; "we must go at once to the
fort!"</p>
<p>Each of them knew what was to be done.
They had talked this thing over on more than
one occasion, and arranged a system that was
to be followed out in case of need.</p>
<p>The heavy puncheon door was closed, and
locked with a ponderous padlock that had been
carried into the wilderness when they emigrated
from their former Virginia home. This being
done, the little party started on a run across
the open field.</p>
<p>How gloomy, and filled with mysterious
perils, did that dense forest seem now! It was
so easy to people its aisles with creeping,
treacherous foes, armed with bows and arrows,
with guns sold by the French traders to be used
against the English-speaking colonists, together
with tomahawks and scalping knives.</p>
<p>And, when they had entered among the tall
trees that grew so close together, how every
slight movement along the trail made them
quiver with sudden dread, in the belief that
they were about to be confronted by a painted
horde of Indians, seeking their lives!</p>
<p>The blockhouse, fortunately, was not very far
distant. When they began to catch glimpses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
of it through the trees the hopes of the Armstrongs
once more mounted upward.</p>
<p>By now they had overtaken other fugitives,
also making for the safety of the central point,
and laden with the most precious of their possessions,
which consisted for the most part of
some family heirloom which they dreaded to
have go up in flame and smoke, if the savages
put their deserted cabins to the torch, as was
their universal custom.</p>
<p>When they reached the palisade they found
an excited crowd. The women and children
were hurried inside as fast as they arrived;
while the defenders of the post clustered
near the gates, engaged in anxious communion.</p>
<p>"Who saw the Indians?" asked David, always
seeking information; and both of his boys
hovered near, with ears wide open to catch
every word that might be dropped.</p>
<p>Anthony Brady, who exercised something of
the characteristics of a commander among the
settlers, by virtue of his age and experience,
made immediate answer.</p>
<p>"Old Reuben Jacks, the forest ranger, spied
the bloodthirsty villains," he said. "He came
first to my cabin, which is further away than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
rest. Then, as we ran, we shouted warning,
and others, who heard, took it up. Here he
comes now. Ask him how many of the red
scoundrels he sighted, neighbors."</p>
<p>The man in question was clad in greasy buckskin
garments. He had no family; but stopped
with different persons whenever he came to the
settlement. But, after the manner of the Irish
trapper, old Reuben could not long remain in
one place, and thus he spent most of his time
roaming.</p>
<p>David quickly cornered old Reuben. The
forest ranger was a quaint fellow, who carried
one of those long-barrelled rifles which were so
deadly in the hands of a good marksman. He
had several rows of nicks on the stock, and the
boys had always been curious to know whether
these signified the various wild animals, like
bears, and panthers, and wildcats, that he had
shot with the weapon, or something perhaps
more terrible. But Old Reuben would never
tell.</p>
<p>"Where did you see the Indians, Reuben?"
asked David, as others of the men began to
cluster around, filled with curiosity to know the
worst.</p>
<p>"I reckons as how 'twar 'bout three furlongs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
t'other side o' Cap'n Brady's cabin I
see 'em," replied the old ranger in a mumbling
tone, due to the absence of teeth in his
jaws.</p>
<p>"How many were there?" continued Mr.
Armstrong.</p>
<p>"I see three before I turned and run,"
Reuben answered. "But the bushes was
shakin' like they mout 'a' ben a host more
a'comin'. They was armed with bows an' arrers,
an' I dead sartin saw a scalp hangin' at
the belt o' one on 'em."</p>
<p>Bob and Sandy exchanged horrified glances
at hearing this. They had themselves passed
through quite an experience with the hostile
Indians early in the season, when one of the
brothers was captured and carried away to the
village of the Shawanees, from which he had
finally been rescued, after considerable peril
had been encountered.</p>
<p>To hear that Indians had been seen so close
to the settlement caused a thrill to pass through
the heart of the boldest man; and the hands
that clutched their guns tightened convulsively
on the weapons.</p>
<p>"Were they Shawanees, Reuben?" David
continued to ask.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
<p>The veteran ranger shook his head, with its
straggly gray hair that fell down on his
shoulders from under the beaver cap.</p>
<p>"Delaware, I reckons," he said, simply; and
they believed that so experienced a woodsman
could not be mistaken, for there were many
characteristics that distinguished the different
tribes, even among the famous Six Nations or
Iroquois. (<a id="Note_2b"></a><a href="#Note_2">Note 2.</a>)</p>
<p>"Are all here?" asked Captain Brady at
this juncture; for they could no longer see any
sign of new arrivals hurrying toward the blockhouse.</p>
<p>A hurried count assured them that all families
had reached the stockade, with one exception.</p>
<p>"The Bancrofts are missing!" cried one
man.</p>
<p>"And their clearing is almost as far away as
mine! This looks bad, men!" said Brady, with
a grave expression on his set features.</p>
<p>"Something ought to be done, it seems to
me," remarked David; for the family in question
had been among the first dozen seeking new
homes on the Ohio; and between them and his
own little brood there had always existed more
or less friendship.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
<p>"Who'll go with me ter look 'em up?" demanded
old Reuben, hoarsely.</p>
<p>Every man present signified his readiness to
be of the rescue party; but Captain Brady, of
course, would not hear of such a thing.</p>
<p>"It would weaken our defence!" he declared.
"We must hold this stockade above all
things. Take four men if you wish, Reuben,
but no more. And be careful lest you run into
an ambush. These savages are treacherous at
the best. They would strike you in the back if
the chance arose. And if so be you have to
shoot, make every bullet tell!"</p>
<p>Sandy pushed forward. He really hoped that
the old ranger would pick him out as one of
those who were to make up the rescue party.
Always reckless, and fairly revelling in excitement,
Sandy would have gladly hailed a chance
to undertake this perilous adventure.</p>
<p>"Wait!" called out David Armstrong just
then. "Perhaps, after all, it may not be necessary
to go. Look yonder, Captain Brady, and
you will see that the Indians are even now coming
out of the woods!"</p>
<p>These words created a new spasm of excitement.
Turning their eyes in the direction
David had pointed, the gathered settlers saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
that he indeed spoke the truth; for several
painted figures had just then issued forth from
the shelter of the fringe of forest, and started
toward the stockade!</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER III<br />
<small>THE BEE TREE</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> of the more impetuous among the settlers
began immediately to draw back the hammers
of their muskets; and one man even threw
his gun to his shoulder, as if eager to be the first
to fire at the Indians.</p>
<p>But David Armstrong immediately pushed
against him, so that his purpose was frustrated.</p>
<p>"What would you do, hothead?" demanded
Mr. Armstrong. "They are so far away that
your ammunition would only be wasted. Look
again, and you will see that there are only four
in all. Besides, they have their hands raised in
the air, with the palms extended toward us.
That means they would talk. It is the same as
if they carried a white flag in token of amity.
Let no one fire a shot."</p>
<p>"But at the same time be on your guard
against the treacherous hounds, men!" called
out Captain Brady, himself the most inveterate
hater of Indians in the entire colony, and never
willing to trust one who carried a copper-colored
skin.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
<p>Slowly the four red men advanced, continuing
to hold up their hands. Evidently they wondered
at seeing so great a number of armed
whites clustered before the stockade. And the
clanging of the bell must have bewildered them,
since possibly it was the very first time such a
sound had ever been heard by any of the quartette.</p>
<p>"We should not allow them to come too
near," one man suggested, cautiously.</p>
<p>"True," called out Brady. "And an equal
number of our men should advance to meet
them. Armstrong, do you and Reuben, together
with Brewster and Lane, step out. We will
cover you with our guns. They have laid their
bows and tomahawks down on the ground; but
look out for treachery. Should you hear me
shout, drop down on your faces, for we will
sweep them out of existence with one volley!"</p>
<p>The two boys watched the little squad meet
the four Indians, and enter into a powwow with
them. Much of the conversation had to be carried
on through gesture, since only old Reuben
could understand the Indian tongue. But it was
evident that the newcomers meant to be
friendly, and were not the advance couriers of
a band bent on burning the post.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
<p>Presently David beckoned to Captain Brady,
and, as the other approached, he observed:</p>
<p>"They do not mean us any harm. On the
contrary this young chief, who says his name is
Black Beaver, wishes to trade some skins he
has for tobacco. They have been south in Kentucky
attending a grand council, and are on the
way home to their village. He also wished to
secure a small amount of meal if we can spare
it. And, Captain, since we wish peace with all
the tribes, I have promised to obtain these
things for him."</p>
<p>When they heard this the men set up a shout,
such was the great relief they experienced after
the recent scare. Still, the cautious Brady
warned them against being too positive.</p>
<p>"How do we know whether they are deceiving
us?" he said, coldly; for he could not bear
to be friendly with any Indian. "Perhaps they
are even now carrying the scalps of our neighbors,
the Bancrofts?"</p>
<p>"Not so, Captain, you wrong them," said
David, hastily; "for yonder come those you
mention, and apparently none the worse for
their delay in starting."</p>
<p>After that there was no reasonable excuse for
prolonging the matter; and so by degrees the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
settlers made their way back to their various
homes. The Indians were treated well, and sent
on their way with a supply of tobacco and a
measure of meal, which latter David Armstrong
himself supplied.</p>
<p>But little work was done the balance of that
day. The result of the fright occasioned by
this, the very first ringing of the alarm bell,
made every one more or less nervous. Mrs.
Armstrong would not even hear of the two boys
starting out to hunt in the afternoon, as they
had planned.</p>
<p>"We'd better put it off till to-morrow,
Sandy," remarked Bob, when he saw how the
recent excitement had affected his mother's
nerves.</p>
<p>"I suppose so," replied the younger lad,
with regret in his voice. "But I had just set
my heart on trying to find that bee tree. We
saw the little fellows working in Kate's flower
garden, and flying off with their honey. Just
think what a fine thing it would be, Bob, if we
could learn where their storehouse is, and cut
down the tree! Wouldn't mother's eyes just
dance to see the piles of combs full of sweetness,
perhaps enough for the whole winter?"</p>
<p>"That's a fact," admitted Bob, his own eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
shining with eagerness as Sandy thus painted
such a pleasant picture. "But it will keep, I
guess, till to-morrow. We ought to get done
with our task early in the day, and then for the
woods. You know there is not a great stock of
meat handy, except that jerked venison that
neither of us like very well. I'd enjoy something
like a saddle of fresh venison myself."</p>
<p>And so the more impulsive brother found
himself compelled to bow to circumstances, always
a difficult task with Sandy.</p>
<p>During the afternoon the young pioneers
busied themselves in various ways, for there
were always plenty of things to be done—water
to be carried from the spring, wood for
the fire to be cut and hauled close to the door,
some of the first pelts which the boys had taken
in their rusty traps to be attended to in the
curing; the garden to be weeded; and so it
went on until the descending sun gave warning
that another night was close at hand.</p>
<p>Sandy had taken an hour off to go fishing in
the near-by river. As usual he brought back
enough of the finny prizes to afford the Armstrong
family a bountiful meal that night.
From woods and waters they were accustomed
to take daily toll, as their needs arose; nor was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
there likely to be any scarcity of food so long
as hostile Indians gave the new settlement a
wide berth.</p>
<p>Bob came upon his brother as he was returning
to the cabin with a bucket of water. Sandy
was almost through cleaning his fish, and the
older boy naturally stopped a minute to comment
on their fine size.</p>
<p>"I was just thinking, Bob," remarked the
worker, with a shake of his head, "that perhaps
we might see those same Indians again some
fine day."</p>
<p>"What makes you say that?" asked the
older lad, quickly; for he knew that Sandy
must have something on his mind to speak in
this strain.</p>
<p>"I think I feel a little like Captain Brady
does about Indians," Sandy replied, "and that
they are treacherous. Somehow, I just can't
trust them, and that's the truth of it."</p>
<p>"Oh! but how about Blue Jacket? Didn't
he prove that he was a true friend to us?" demanded
Bob.</p>
<p>The young Indian to whom he referred was
a Shawanee brave who had been wounded in the
fight the settlers had had just before arriving
at the river. The boys had found him desperately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
hurt, and had cared for him, even saving
his life when the irate Captain Brady wanted
to have the "varment" killed as he would a
snake.</p>
<p>In return Blue Jacket had assisted in the rescue
of the Armstrong boys who had fallen into
the hands of the Indians.</p>
<p>"That's true, Bob," responded Sandy, readily
enough. "Blue Jacket is our friend, but
he's the only wearer of a red skin that I would
trust. Now, of course, you're wondering what
ails me. I'll tell you. I didn't like the way that
young Delaware chief looked at our pretty little
sister, Kate!"</p>
<p>"What's that you are saying?" demanded
Bob, frowning.</p>
<p>"I saw him, if you didn't," continued Sandy,
stubbornly. "He kept looking at her every
little while even as he talked; for, you know,
some of the women and girls came out of the
stockade to look at the Indians. I tell you
plainly that my finger just itched to touch the
trigger of my gun when I saw him staring at
Kate like that."</p>
<p>"But—he walked over here with us to get
the measure of meal father promised to give
him, without accepting any pay?" Bob went on,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
as if hardly able to credit the grave thing his
brother was hinting at.</p>
<p>"Yes, and I kept just behind him all the
time," Sandy went on, "with my gun in my
hands. I think he noticed me after a while, for
he stopped looking. But I wouldn't trust that
heathen further than I could see him."</p>
<p>"Well, they have gone away," said Bob, as
though that settled it.</p>
<p>"How do you know that?" questioned
Sandy.</p>
<p>"Secretly, acting under orders from Captain
Brady, old Reuben followed them for three
miles, keeping himself hidden all the while. He
reported that they had surely kept straight on,
secured a canoe just where they said they had
hidden one, and paddled across the river, landing
on the other shore, and disappearing in the
forest."</p>
<p>"But Black Beaver plans to come back some
day," Sandy continued, as he arose; "I could
see it in his eyes. And I mean to warn mother,
so that she can keep Kate from wandering away
from home so much. If ever I see that Delaware
chief sneaking around here it will be a
bad day for him."</p>
<p>"We called them Delawares, but old Reuben<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
says now he made a mistake, and that they belong
to the Iroquois. He told me that Black
Beaver was a chief among the Senecas, and that
his home was far away toward the Great
Lakes."</p>
<p>"That may be so," remarked the unconvinced
Sandy, starting toward the cabin, for
evening was not far away, and he already inwardly
felt clamorous demands for the appetizing
supper that would soon be on the fire.
"But even if he lives hundreds of miles away
he can come back, can't he? He has made the
journey once, why not again?"</p>
<p>Bob knew that, when once his brother got an
idea into his head, argument was next to useless;
so he wisely let the matter drop. He himself
was not altogether convinced that they had
seen the last of the proud young chief, though
he hardly anticipated that it would be Kate's
pretty face that might draw Black Beaver south
again.</p>
<p>Many of the settlers passed an uneasy night;
but there was no alarm. Talking the matter
over among themselves, some of the men had
arrived at the conviction that these representatives
of the Iroquois may have been attending
one of those great meetings which were being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
engineered by the Pottawottomi sachem, Pontiac,
looking toward a combination of most of
the various tribes, by means of which the
French in the far North would be assisted, and
the English settlements through Ohio, Kentucky,
and along the Great Lakes be wiped
out.</p>
<p>If this were indeed the truth, then Black
Beaver had professed a friendship that he
really did not feel, since he must have been
forming some league with the warlike and merciless
Shawanees, under such leaders as the
detested renegade, Simon Girty, of whose cruel
deeds history has told.</p>
<p>When the morning finally arrived without
any sign of trouble, even gentle Mary Armstrong
seemed to have recovered from her nervousness.
She assented to the wish of the boys
to go forth, and see what they could do in the
way of securing fresh food. Before leaving,
Sandy cautioned his mother about Kate, for he
could not forget the covetous looks which the
painted young chief had cast toward his pretty
little sister, child though she was, being not
more than twelve years of age.</p>
<p>"Be sure and fetch an ax along, Sandy,"
said Bob, just as they were ready to start forth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
with guns fastened over their shoulders by
means of straps. "But, if you can help it,
don't let mother see you. She would think it
strange that we carried such a thing on a little
hunt for a deer."</p>
<p>"But what if we succeed in locating the bee
tree, and cut it down; how are we to carry the
honey home?" asked Sandy.</p>
<p>"Time enough for that when we have won
out," replied Bob, with a laugh. "Besides, I
don't think we'll be more than a quarter, or at
most a third of a mile away from home, unless
the little insects are hunting at a longer distance
than they generally do, as Pat O'Mara
told me."</p>
<p>"Have you got the sugar and everything
along?" questioned Sandy.</p>
<p>"Of course. I'd be a pretty chap to go off
unprepared, wouldn't I? Now, watch your
chance, and sneak the ax off. We'll surely
need it to chop the tree down,—if we find it,"
Bob concluded.</p>
<p>But his sanguine brother never doubted in
the least that success was bound to attend their
efforts. He went into everything he did with
the same enthusiasm and confidence.</p>
<p>Ten minutes later the boys were in an open<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
glade not a great distance away from the Armstrong
cabin. Here flowers grew in profusion,
even at this late day in the season; and Kate
was in the habit of coming out to pick great
bunches of the pretty posies, for she loved to
see them around the humble cabin, brightening
things with their color, and sweetening the atmosphere
with their perfume.</p>
<p>Even in those days the methods of bee hunters
did not differ very much from those which are
in vogue in the woods to-day. The Irish trapper
had posted the Armstrong boys as to the way
in which a bee tree could be discovered, once
busy little workers were found loading up with
honey in the flowers or blossoms.</p>
<p>First of all the boys hunted until they discovered
where some of the wild bees were busily
engaged. Honey was not so plentiful at this
particular season of the year; and, when Bob
made a little sirup out of some yellow sugar he
had been wise enough to fetch along, a bee was
quickly attracted to the feast.</p>
<p>When he had loaded himself down with the
spoils, and was preparing to fly away, Bob
dextrously caught the little fellow. Taking care
not to be stung he succeeded in attaching a long
white thread to the bee's body, in such a way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
that it would not interfere with his flying, yet
could be seen for quite a distance.</p>
<p>Then the captive was released. As is universally
the case, the bee arose in the air,
and made a straight fly for the hive!
That is where the phrase "a bee-line" originated.</p>
<p>"Watch him now, Sandy!" called Bob, as
he liberated the prisoner.</p>
<p>"All right," answered his brother, eagerly.
"I can see him still; and how he does spin
along. There, he has disappeared now, right
beyond that big poplar yonder. Do we go there
next time, Bob?"</p>
<p>"Yes," came the reply; "that gives us a
start, and will bring us just so much nearer
the hive. Then we must catch another bee, and
repeat the job. And, as we may not find as
many of them, once we enter the woods, we will
put several in this little bottle I've brought
along with me."</p>
<p>This was easily accomplished; after which
they walked over to where they had obtained
the very last glimpse of the laden worker.</p>
<p>"We've got the line now," remarked Bob;
"and can even go further into the woods, keeping
on a straight road. But, for fear that we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
may overshoot the mark, suppose we make another
trial right here."</p>
<p>"Just as you say, Bob," returned Sandy.
"You got Pat to tell you lots of things he
wouldn't repeat for me. I wonder could it be
that leaning tree through there. Seems to me
that might be a fine old hive, for it looks hollow
enough."</p>
<p>"But you remember Pat said they don't
often select a <i>dead</i> tree. It might blow down,
and spoil their stock of honey," his brother
went on to say.</p>
<p>"But they do find a hollow, don't they?"
Sandy inquired.</p>
<p>"Yes; usually the top of a tree that has a
hole in it, or a big limb. They are wise enough
to know that the rain must be kept out, and also
that certain wild animals are mighty fond of
honey. Now, here goes, Sandy. Watch close—there!"</p>
<p>Again Bob cast the gorged prisoner free, and
the little insect, after several vain efforts, managed
to mount upward on sagging wings and
make off.</p>
<p>This time as before they marked the last appearance
of the laden honey bee, and then a
third trial was made. When a fourth and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
fifth drew them still deeper into the forest Sandy
began to grow much excited. He kept looking
all around him while his brother carried out the
important operation of coaxing the bee to accept
a cargo of sugar sirup in the place of the
scarce nectar in the flowers.</p>
<p>All at once Bob looked up.</p>
<p>"Hark!" he exclaimed.</p>
<p>Sandy at once made a move as though about
to sling his gun around from his back. Then he
saw the smile on his brother's face; and, suspecting
the truth, cocked his own head in a
listening attitude.</p>
<p>"I hear it!" he exclaimed, his whole face
lighting up. "Nothing but the hum of a hive
of bees could make that noise, Bob, could it?"</p>
<p>"Look up into that sycamore tree and tell
me if you can't see them flying around? Those
must be the young ones trying their wings. Pat
said they came out every fine day, and buzzed
about. He told me he had found more than one
bee tree just by tracing the sound. Once heard
in the quiet forest it can never be forgotten."</p>
<p>"Hurrah! then we've traced the little rascals
to their house!" cried Sandy, as he threw
his gun aside, and, clutching the ax, stepped
forward to strike the first blow toward cutting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
down the big tree in which the bees had their
hive.</p>
<p>Bob did not try to discourage him, for he
knew that when some of this enthusiasm had
died away his turn at the chopping would
arrive.</p>
<p>And sure enough it did; for Sandy gave out
before a quarter of the task had been completed,
though later on he would recover his
breath and show a willingness to go at it again.</p>
<p>Both lads knew just how to chop a tree so as
to lay it where they wished, and, having chosen
the best place to throw the big sycamore, they
kept hacking away with steady strokes, making
the chips fairly fly in showers.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER IV<br />
<small>WATCHING FOR THE HONEY THIEF</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Whoop!</span> there she goes over with a
crash!" shouted Sandy, throwing his cap up
into the air, as the tall sycamore came down
just as they had planned.</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 331px;">
<img src="images/i053.jpg" width="331" height="471" alt="men chopping down tree" />
<div class="caption">"'WHOOP! THERE SHE GOES!'"</div>
</div>
<p>He started to dash forward as soon as the
tree had struck, eager to ascertain what sort
of prize they had drawn in the lottery; but his
more careful brother laid hands on him.</p>
<p>"Don't try it!" he exclaimed. "Why, they
are so wild just now, they'd sting you to
death!"</p>
<p>"But how are we going to get at the honey,
Bob?" demanded the younger lad.</p>
<p>"You run to the house, and tell the others
the good news. I'll be making veils out of this
thin cloth. Then we have the gloves we used
last winter. Bring a lot of pails back with you;
for I think we'll need all you can find."</p>
<p>Sandy hastened back to the cabin, where he
electrified his father and mother and little Kate
with the joyful news. They got together every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
available vessel for carrying the expected
spoils; and then Sandy led the way back to
where his brother awaited them.</p>
<p>On the trail he was compelled to explain just
how they had taken Pat O'Mara's advice with
regard to tracing the honey gatherers; and
what splendid success had resulted. Kate was
singing with delight over the anticipated store
of sweets that would reward their skill in locating
the bee tree, for, in those early pioneer
days, as a rule the only sugar the settlers had
was obtained through boiling down the sap of
the sugar maple tree in the early spring; or in
discovering some secret store of honey in the
forest.</p>
<p>Bob had arranged things completely to his
satisfaction while his brother was away. Both
of the young pioneers donned the veils and
gloves, so that the bees might not take a terrible
revenge on the destroyers of their home.</p>
<p>Bob had also made a smudge with which he
expected to partly stupefy the angry little creatures.
Smoke always frightens bees, for they
seem to think that fire is about to devastate
their hive. Nature influences them to immediately
load up with all the honey they can possibly
carry, with the idea of taking it to some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
new retreat; and while in this condition they
are comparatively harmless.</p>
<p>Presently Sandy came back to the spot where
the others were standing in safety. He had a
bucket almost full of broken combs from which
the richness was oozing in a manner that set
little Kate wild with delight. As for the good
mother the sight was undoubtedly a pleasant
one for her, since it promised many a delightful
treat in the long winter months ahead.</p>
<p>David Armstrong immediately started home
with the bucket, so as to empty it, and once more
put it into service. Bob was still working there
in the midst of the ruined hive.</p>
<p>"And he says there are, oh! ever so many
more buckets of better honey than this!" Sandy
had cried, as he brought out a second supply,
in which the combs were less broken than before,
and seemed newer.</p>
<p>"The whole air is filled with the perfume
of honey," remarked Mary Armstrong. "It
hardly seems right to rob the poor little workers
in this way, after they have stored it up so carefully;
though we do need it badly, for there
will be little sugar in our home except what we
make next spring."</p>
<p>"Oh! Bob says there'll be just oceans of it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
left, spilled on the ground," Sandy went on,
"and the bees will get it all, sooner or later.
Plenty of time for 'em to seal it up for this
winter. They always have ten times too much,
and that's why some of it is so old and dark
looking. Bob says he is not taking that if he
can help it."</p>
<p>"Why, I could smell the honey half way to
the house," remarked Mr. Armstrong, as he
came up just then. "And, if there happens to
be a bear within half a mile of this place, you
can depend on it that he'll be prowling around
here this very night."</p>
<p>"That was just what Bob was saying,
father!" declared Sandy. "He showed me
marks on the smooth trunk of the sycamore,
where a bear must have climbed up ever so
often, as if trying to reach in at the honey that
was just too far away for him to steal. And
some of the scratches were so fresh Bob says
they must have been made only last night."</p>
<p>After numerous trips to the cabin to empty
the buckets the pleasant task was finally completed.
Bob declared that he had secured about
all of the honey that was worth carrying away.
There still remained a great store of the sticky
stuff; but it was either spilled on the ground,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
or else so darkened by age that it did not seem
worth while carrying it off.</p>
<p>"We'll leave it to the poor little fellows,"
laughed Bob; "for they're as busy as beavers
right now loading up and flying off to another
hollow tree one of 'em has found. And I think
we're pretty lucky to get off as easy as we did,
eh, Sandy?"</p>
<p>Sandy had removed the thin cloth veil that
covered his face, and by this action revealed the
fact that at least one angry bee had found a way
to pierce his armor; for his left cheek was
swollen so that his eye seemed unusually small.
Some wet clay took the pain out, however, and
in due course of time the swelling would go
down.</p>
<p>It was not the first time Sandy had felt a
sting from a bee, nor did he expect it would be
the last. And, when he looked at the glorious
fruits of their raid on that big sycamore hive,
he forgot that he had suffered in the good
cause.</p>
<p>"Well, do we try for that bear to-night,
Bob?" he asked of his brother, later on in the
afternoon, when he could see once more fairly
well with both eyes.</p>
<p>"I think we would be silly not to," replied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
his brother; "especially since we set the trap
ourselves when we cut down that bee tree."</p>
<p>"He's just sure to come nosing around, don't
you think?"</p>
<p>"Don't see how any bear could stand back,
with all that odor in the air. Besides, it looked
to me as if the old fellow might have been paying
a visit to that tree every single night for a
whole month, there were so many scratches on
the bark. So you can just depend on it that he's
got his mouth set for honey."</p>
<p>"And then there's another thing in our
favor," Sandy went on saying, as he glanced
upward toward the heavens, an action that
caused his brother to remark:</p>
<p>"I'd wager a shilling that you are thinking
of the moon being nearly full to-night, which is
a fact. That is in our favor, and, on the whole,
I'd be inclined to believe that we may be tasting
a bear steak by to-morrow."</p>
<p>"One good thing leads to another with us,
Bob. First a prize in the way of gallons and
gallons of prime honey, and then, to finish, perhaps
a fat bear in the bargain! But, remember,
you said I was to have the first shot at the old
honey thief, if he does make his appearance?"</p>
<p>"All right," answered Bob, good naturedly;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
"and I'll keep my word; but if I were you I
would go slow about calling names. Please remember
that there are some others in the same
boat. Only, in our case, we succeeded in getting
the spoils; and there we have the better of old
Bruin, who climbed that tree so very many
times only to have his trouble for his pains."</p>
<p>Of course the lads took their parents into
their plans, for it might be their absence would
worry the little mother, who sometimes still
thought of that wild ringing of the alarm bell,
and all it might have meant.</p>
<p>Shortly after they had had their supper, the
two lads took their muskets, and passed out
into the night. As they had said, it promised
to be just a glorious opportunity to carry out
such a plan as they had in mind.</p>
<p>The moon rode high in the eastern heavens,
being not very far from full. Not a cloud
seemed to dim the bright light, so that, for a
short distance around them, things looked almost
as plain as in the daytime.</p>
<p>As the two boys had done considerable hunting
in common there was little necessity for
talking things over, or arranging any programme.
When the honey-loving bear came
along, eager to satisfy his craving for sweets,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
of course Sandy would wait for a favorable
chance to get in a fair shot. And, unless his
aim were poor, or some accident occurred to
otherwise mar the arrangements, that would
wind matters up.</p>
<p>Arriving at the fallen bee tree, the young
pioneers quickly decided just where they should
secrete themselves. In doing this they exercised
their knowledge as woodrangers, for much
depended on the direction of the wind.</p>
<p>"It seems to be blowing toward the home
quarter," remarked Bob, as they stood there,
fixing certain facts in their minds. "That
favors us finely, because the chances are ten
to one he will come from the other side of the
opening made by our felling the big sycamore.
So you see he won't be able to smell us."</p>
<p>"How will this place do, Bob?" suggested
the younger brother, pointing to what in his
mind made a splendid hiding-nook, from which
they could peer forth, and see anything that
took place just beyond.</p>
<p>"Could hardly be better; and so there is no
use for us to look further," Bob remarked.
"Pick out your stand, Sandy, where you will
be able to shoot best. I'll be satisfied to take
what is left."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
<p>This was soon arranged, and, having once
settled down to wait, they tried to keep as still
as though made out of marble. Talking was
forbidden, even in whispers; and a cough
would very likely have ruined the whole affair,
since the bear, if near-by at the time, must have
been warned of his danger, and with a "wuff"
would turn to rush away.</p>
<p>An hour passed in this way. Fortunately
the two lads were good waiters, and had proved
this on many another occasion in the past.</p>
<p>Sandy had allowed his thoughts to go out to
other scenes, and was even thinking of that fine
young frontiersman, Simon Kenton, whom he
admired so much, when he felt his brother
touch him softly on the shoulder. The contact
thrilled him, since it was the signal agreed on
to denote that the lumbering bear was coming!</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER V<br />
<small>A STRANGE BEAR HUNT</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Listen</span>!" said Bob, his lips placed as close
to the ear of his brother as he could possibly
get them.</p>
<p>"I hear him! He is over there, just where
you said," replied the younger hunter, the
words being whispered so low that they could
not have been detected six feet away.</p>
<p>"Get ready then—have your gun up, so he
won't see the movement. 'Sh!"</p>
<p>Bob said this because he knew that, with that
bright moonlight flooding the opening, there
must always be a chance that its rays would
glint from the metal barrel of a moving musket.
And even such a little thing as this might serve
to startle a suspicious bear into making a sudden
retreat.</p>
<p>The sounds now became more pronounced
than before. Some heavy body was undoubtedly
pushing through the underbrush, and in
such haste as to be utterly unmindful of what
noise was produced.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
<p>Of course nothing but a clumsy bear could be
guilty of such an advance, caution being thrown
to the four winds because of that tantalizing
odor of honey in the heavy night air,—an odor
which was making Bruin fairly wild with eagerness
to be at the anticipated feast.</p>
<p>A panther would have crept slily forward,
so that not even the rustle of a leaf might betray
its presence, and even a buffalo would
have advanced with a certain amount of caution;
but a bear depends on its sense of smell
to give warning of danger, and seldom moves
with any degree of care.</p>
<p>Presently Sandy could hear him sniffling at a
great rate as he pushed closer. The animal evidently
could not understand why there should
be such a pronounced odor of honey in the air.
Many times had he come to this same spot in
the hope of being able to bag some of the bees'
store; but always to meet disappointment.
But now there must be a great change in the
arrangement of things.</p>
<p>Somewhere amid the foliage covering the
bushes across the glade the big beast must have
stopped, to look in surprise at the fallen bee
tree. Perhaps he suspected a trap of some kind,
knowing that his mortal enemy, man, had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
there lately. But that distracting smell
drowned all his caution. Unable to hold out
against it any longer, the bear suddenly lumbered
forward.</p>
<p>Sandy saw him coming, but held his fire. In
the first place the bear was head on, and he
wanted to get a chance at the animal's flank, so
that he might make sure to plant his bullet back
of the shoulder, where he could reach the heart,
and so bring his game down with that one shot.
Then again, it chanced that there was something
of a shadow, which served to partly hide
the beast as he advanced.</p>
<p>Straight into the midst of the broken honeycombs
did Bruin hasten, grunting in evident
delight as he commenced to lick up the spilled
sweet fluid, so dear to the heart of every bear.</p>
<p>Sandy managed to repress his excitement to
a great extent. He had been hunting so often,
boy though he was, that he no longer experienced
the same intense thrill that would have
almost overwhelmed him a couple of years ago,
had he been thrown into such a position as this.</p>
<p>Slowly his cheek dropped down until it rested
against the butt of his faithful old musket.
Well did he know that the priming was in the
pan, and that, when the flint struck the steel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
sharply, the spark would communicate to the
charge, with the result that the bear must be
considerably astonished.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, however, Sandy could not see
in that deceptive moonlight that a fair-sized
twig happened to be just between the muzzle of
his gun and the object at which he aimed. Had
it been daytime he would have detected this
fact, and avoided taking the chances of his bullet
being slightly deflected in its swift passage.</p>
<p>The report of the gun was deafening. With
his usual impulsiveness Sandy instantly leaped
to his feet, giving a boyish shout as he saw the
bear kicking on the ground, in the midst of the
branches of the fallen tree.</p>
<p>Then, to his utter astonishment, and not a
little to his chagrin as well, the dark, rolling
object seemed to scramble once more to its four
feet, and, attracted by his movements, immediately
started to advance directly toward him,
growling in the fiercest possible way.</p>
<p>It could no longer be said that Bruin was
making a clumsy and slow advance, for, inspired
by a sudden rage toward the object from
which his painful wound had evidently sprang,
the animal was rushing furiously forward.</p>
<p>Bob fired in the hope of checking this advance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
that promised to upset all of their fine
plans; but just then Sandy, in jumping back,
chanced to jostle his brother, so that, even if the
second bullet struck the bear at all, it certainly
did no great damage. At least his swift if lumbering
advance was not materially checked.</p>
<p>"Run, Sandy!" shouted Bob, as he realized
that they were now facing an infuriated and
wounded beast, with only their hatchets and
knives to use in defence of their lives.</p>
<p>Sandy was not slow to take the advice thus
given. He sprang away in one direction, while
Bob took the other. Just why the bear should
have picked out Sandy to follow, neither of the
brothers could ever say, though they really believed
the old fellow was keen enough to understand
which of the fleeing lads had sent that
first stinging pellet that bored under his skin,
and made him so uncomfortable.</p>
<p>Bob was dismayed when he found that the
animal had ignored him, and was chasing
Sandy. With his usual generous way of taking
burdens on his shoulders, Bob had really hoped
to attract the bear; indeed, with this idea in
view, he had even made more noise than was
necessary, as he floundered along through the
bushes.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
<p>When, however, he found that he had not
been followed, he immediately changed his tactics.
From running away he now started to
follow after the bear, and, as he thus pushed
through the woods, the boy tried to reload his
musket, always a difficult task in those days of
the primitive powder-horn, when the charge
had to be measured out into the palm, poured
into the long barrel, and the bullet in its patch
of greased cloth pushed down with the ramrod;
after which the priming had to be adjusted.</p>
<p>Bob was not making any particularly good
headway in reloading, since he could not stay
his hurrying steps long enough to do the right
thing.</p>
<p>From the noise ahead he judged that Sandy
must have succeeded in drawing himself up into
the friendly branches of a tree, and that the
furious bear was following close on his heels.</p>
<p>At least this would give the fugitive a little
time, and perhaps, meanwhile, he, Bob, could
come on the scene with his gun, ready to take
a hand in the game.</p>
<p>"Hi! Bob, this way!" Sandy was shouting,
at the top of his voice, as though his situation
was rapidly becoming desperate.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
<p>"All right!" answered the one who was
pushing along through the brush as best he
could. "I'm coming, Sandy! Hold on a little
longer!"</p>
<p>A minute or so later he found himself on the
scene. Just as he had guessed, Sandy, being
hotly pursued, and fearing lest he be overtaken
by the angry beast, had on the spur of the moment
clambered hastily into the branches of a
tree. It was the result of sudden impulse, for
surely the boy knew that an American black
bear is always at home wherever he can dig his
sharp claws into the bark of a tree.</p>
<p>Perhaps Sandy would never fully realize
how he came to escape the animal's last rush;
but it must have been almost by a miracle.
Once among the branches, the boy did not stop
an instant. The bear immediately showed an
inclination to follow him aloft, and Sandy
hardly cared to try conclusions with Bruin in
his present winded condition, and with only his
hatchet to depend on.</p>
<p>So he had hastily climbed upward. Looking
down, he had been dismayed to see that the bear
was making quick progress after him. He could
hardly go to the top of the tree, and, as a possibility
leaped into his mind, the boy started out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
on a large limb that was some twenty feet or
so above the ground.</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 328px;">
<img src="images/i071.jpg" width="328" height="525" alt="Sandy on branch with bear coming after him" />
<div class="caption">"THE BEAR ALL THE WHILE KEPT ON CREEPING OUT CLOSER AND CLOSER"</div>
</div>
<p>Bruin did not hesitate a moment when he
reached this limb, but started out after the
young hunter. It was at that moment Sandy
had sent out his appeal for help. He realized
that he was in a bad fix, since the bear would
either follow until he could reach his intended
victim with his sharp claws; or else the combined
weight of the two must break the limb,
sending both to the ground.</p>
<p>Bob, having arrived under the tree, was
making desperate efforts to finish loading his
gun, so that he might bring the little drama to
a close. But the bear all the while kept on
creeping out closer and closer, balancing his
bulk with wonderful skill upon the limb.</p>
<p>Sandy was impulsive in his ways; at the
same time that bright mind of his was apt to
originate many a clever ruse on the spur of the
moment, and when desperation pushed.</p>
<p>Bob, keeping one eye anxiously turned upward
while he pushed the bullet hastily into the
chamber of his gun, saw his brother suddenly
back still further away, so that the limb began
to bend downward with his weight. The bear
halted, as if loath to make any further forward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
move, and watching to see what his human
adversary might be contemplating.</p>
<p>Suddenly Sandy let go his hold of the outer
branches. He had seen that he might break
his fall by passing through the foliage just
below, and was willing to accept the chances of
receiving sundry scratches in consequence.</p>
<p>Bob fairly held his breath as he saw this bold
action on the part of his brother. The bear
crouched closer to the limb above, as though
declining to be shaken from his hold. But,
when the danger of this had passed, the beast
started to back to the trunk of the tree, intent
on reaching the ground again as speedily as
possible.</p>
<p>Sandy had come through the lower foliage
with a great scramble, very much after the
manner of a floundering wildcat that had been
shot while perched in a tree.</p>
<p>Bob waited only long enough to assure himself
that his brother had reached the ground,
even in a sadly dishevelled condition. Then he
began to add the necessary priming to his gun,
for Bruin was already starting to descend to
renew hostilities.</p>
<p>Taking several steps forward, Bob arrived at
the base of the big beech with its wide-spreading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
branches. It was evidently his intention
to wait for the coming of the bear, and give him
a warm reception.</p>
<p>Bruin, in his ignorance of such things as explosives,
since his only adventures up to now
had probably been with the arrows of the red
men, gave little heed to this suggestive action
on the part of the young hunter. He kept backing
down with all possible haste, anxious to
avenge his injuries upon these human foes.</p>
<p>But, after all, Bob found himself mistaken
when he supposed that it was up to him to end
the big beast. While the bear was still at least
ten feet above him, the musket was suddenly
taken forcibly from his hands.</p>
<p>"You promised me, Bob, please remember!"
cried Sandy.</p>
<p>With his face bleeding from the scratches he
had received in his fall, Sandy must certainly
have presented a strange appearance just then;
but the spirit of the hunter rose superior to any
and all discomforts. That bear was his by
rights, and he did not mean to be cheated out
of his triumph.</p>
<p>Down came Bruin, looking over his shoulder
as he dropped, and probably measuring the
capacity of these two foes. But he failed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
figure on the terrible power that lay in the odd
looking stick one of them pointed up at him.</p>
<p>There was a sudden flash, a stunning report,
for Bob in his nervousness had overcharged his
gun, and while Sandy fell back with a bruised
shoulder, the bear dropped like a stone at the
foot of the tree. Sandy had clapped the muzzle
of the musket close to the animal's ear when
pulling the trigger, so that the result was never
in doubt.</p>
<p>"Whew!" he exclaimed, as he scrambled
to his feet, still clutching Bob's gun. "Did
you empty your powder-horn in that charge,
Bob? I'll be black and blue for a month after
that recoil. But I got him, didn't I? He'll
never have a chance to chase a fellow up a tree
again. And, Bob, we're going to have that bear
steak all right to-morrow, I reckon."</p>
<p>Which they did, sure enough, though, as
Bruin was no youngster, it probably required
pretty sharp teeth to enjoy the meal.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER VI<br />
<small>SERIOUS NEWS</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was just three days after the strange bear
hunt that the boys, on returning from a little
trip to see what their traps might contain thus
early in the season, found that the home circle
had been widened by the coming of the Irish
trapper, Pat O'Mara.</p>
<p>He was a jovial fellow, with a fiery red beard,
and hair of the same hue falling far below his
coonskin cap. His blue eyes generally twinkled
with humor; but, for all that, he had long since
proved himself a fit companion for such woodsmen
as Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton, James
Harrod, Jo Daviess and John Hardin, foremost
in the list of pioneers who had carved their
names on the pages of history by their brave
deeds along the disputed border countries.</p>
<p>Pat was delighted to see the two Armstrong
boys again, for they had been favorites of his
ever since the days when, acting on his advice,
David had decided to leave Virginia and cast
his fortunes with the bold settlers along the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
upper Ohio. But wise Bob soon saw that, under
all his fun, there was a seriousness about
Pat that he could not remember noting before.</p>
<p>The trapper examined what few pelts the
boys had taken up to now, and gave more or
less advice about curing them to the best advantage.</p>
<p>"As the sa'son grows older the fur wull be
thicker," he observed, smoothing the soft pelt
of a red fox that had been recently taken.
"And, av ye obsarve what I'm tillin' ye, 'tis a
better price ye'll recave for the same from the
trader, unless by the same token it happens till
be a Frinchman ye be d'alin' wid. They do be
wantin' to gobble the hull airth, I do be
thinkin'."</p>
<p>This was always a subject upon which Pat
felt deeply, for he was known to have a bitter
prejudice against the French trappers and
traders generally. At this time the French
were in complete mastery of the valuable fur
regions around the Great Lakes, and, being
also located far in the south, at the mouth of
the Mississippi at New Orleans, it was the announced
intention of the companies controlling
these half-breed trappers to form a chain of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
trading posts from Canada to the distant Mexican
gulf.</p>
<p>Daniel Boone knew all about this tremendous
scheme, and it was partly with the idea of blocking
it that he had pushed out so far into the
western wilderness, and influenced others to
follow his example.</p>
<p>Dangers without number they must face in
so doing; but, surely, if the wonderful wide-reaching
valley of the Mississippi might be
saved for English-speaking people, their efforts
would be worth while.</p>
<p>While Bob watched the face of the Irish
trapper, he came to the conclusion that Pat
must have brought some unpleasant news along
with him. This turned out to be the exact
truth. As the two boys had now reached an
age when they were to be depended on as defenders
of the home, David Armstrong only
waited until Kate happened to be sent on an errand
to a neighbor, when he had Pat recount
the matter for the benefit of Bob and Sandy.</p>
<p>There was much talk of a big Indian uprising
all through the country between the Ohio and
the lakes. Pontiac was again endeavoring to
form a coalition of the many tribes, from the
Six Nations, or Iroquois, in New York and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
Ohio, to the Pottawottomies and Sacs in the
west, and the Creeks and Shawanees in the
south.</p>
<p>Already, in many places, the red men were
said to be on the warpath, and a trail of burning
cabins marked their passage.</p>
<p>Pat had heard of these things, and, thinking
of the good friends who had settled on the Ohio
only the preceding spring, he had lost little
time in making his way back again to the settlement
that was flourishing so finely.</p>
<p>"It wull not be apt till come till ye, right
away," he said in conclusion; "but 'tis just as
well that ivery sowl be made aware av the danger.
Niver belave thot ye are safe from attack
here. It do be a foine place to defind, located
on a hill as ye are; but remimber that the rids
are backed up by more or less av thim treacherous
Frinch trappers and traders; and that they
are sworn to wipe out ivery English post wist
av the mountains."</p>
<p>The news quickly spread until it was known
in every home. Men got together and talked it
over, trying to so arrange their plans that, in
the event of an attack, the defence of the blockhouse
would be conducted in the best possible
manner.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
<p>Scouts were sent out whose business it was
to scour the forest many miles around, on both
sides of the river. And, should one of these
discover that they were threatened with an inroad
of the Indians, it must be his duty to
hasten to send up a signal of warning.</p>
<p>This was to be in the shape of certain columns
of black smoke, which, seen by the next scout,
would be repeated, until in this manner the
startling news might be received at the settlement
hours in advance of the coming of the
fleetest messenger.</p>
<p>It was employing the tactics of the Indians to
a good purpose.</p>
<p>These precautions having been taken, the
settlers went about their daily duties, confident
that they would receive ample warning
should danger arise, and also that they would
be able to give a good account of themselves in
battle, did the reds venture to attack the post.</p>
<p>But it was the policy of every man, woman
and child, from that time forth, to keep an uneasy
eye on the sky line, especially toward the
east and west. Men, as they worked in their
maize fields, would pause every little while to
sweep the horizon with anxious gaze; and,
should one of them at any time happen to discover<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
any sign of smoke rising, it was apt to be
an anxious moment for him until he had assured
himself that the column was a single one,
and not triple.</p>
<p>Even such a hovering cloud as this could not
keep the two venturesome Armstrong boys
from going forth every day. Sometimes they
had business along their trap line, for work
grew pretty brisk as the season advanced.
Then again it might be a hunt that engaged
their attention. Whenever they had any extra
meat on hand it was their provident habit to
dry the same for use in the hard winter months
ahead.</p>
<p>As yet the settlers knew not what awaited
them, once the snows of winter closed in, for
they had never spent such a season on the Ohio.
Tales of bitter weather had come to them; but
they were hardy souls, and believed that, if the
Indians could come through such a yearly experience
unscathed, they ought to be able to do
the same.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, every good housewife started
early to lay in all such extra stores as could be
procured. The stock of simple herbs, drying
in bunches from the beams overhead in the
living room of the Armstrong cabin, testified<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
to the fact that the careful mother was prepared
for any ordinary sickness that might
arise. And there, too, could be seen various
packages of the tough jerked venison, which
would sustain life, when gnawed, as the Indians
were accustomed to doing when on the trail,
though the more civilized settlers preferred to
use it in soups or stews.</p>
<p>For two days Bob and Sandy had not been
out in the forest save to look after their traps.
True, only the preceding day, a fine fat wild
turkey had fallen before the gun of Sandy, and
been greatly enjoyed; but both lads felt an
eagerness to once again go forth on a genuine
hunt for larger game.</p>
<p>The tender-hearted and fearful little mother
could not forbid them venturing forth, even
though she sighed after they had gone, and
wiped a furtive tear from her eye. Food was
a necessity, and they had no other means for
procuring it than in this manner. According
to their belief, Providence had stocked these
woods with game in order to provide sustenance
for the pioneers who must blaze the trail
of civilization.</p>
<p>Warned to be unusually careful, Bob and his
brother once again wended their way through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
the mysterious aisles of the solemn forest,
which had now become so familiar a field to
them. Did they not know nearly every little
animal that had its home there; and were they
not on good terms with many that they scorned
to injure, since their flesh was not wanted for
food, nor their fur for trading purposes?</p>
<p>Two hours after leaving home the young
pioneers came across the tracks of a deer, and,
finding that the trail was fresh, they started
to follow. The wind was in their faces, so that
everything seemed favorable for stalking the
quarry, should they find that the animal was
browsing in one of the little grassy glades
which they knew were close at hand.</p>
<p>And, true enough, as they thus advanced
cautiously, they sighted a noble buck feeding
as though all unconscious of danger. Foot by
foot the boys crept closer, intent on securing
such splendid quarry.</p>
<p>This time it was Bob's turn to fire first,
while Sandy held himself in readiness to make
sure of the buck if by chance his brother failed.</p>
<p>Bob was looking along the barrel of his musket
when, without warning, a shot rang out
from a point further away, followed instantly
by a second and a third; but the buck, apparently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
uninjured, leaped off as though about to
speed beyond the danger zone.</p>
<p>The instinct of the hunter would not allow
Bob to hold back his fire, even though he was
startled by this unexpected volley. And, after
he pulled the trigger, the buck gave one great
leap into the air, to fall a quivering mass on
the moss-covered ground.</p>
<p>Both lads hurried forward toward the fallen
deer; but Bob felt a quiver of apprehension
when he discovered three burly figures hastening
to arrive there ahead of them.</p>
<p>"Oh! they are French trappers, Bob!" exclaimed
Sandy, though he betrayed not the
least symptom of holding back.</p>
<p>"Yes, and we must be careful what we do!"
remarked Bob, uneasily.</p>
<p>"But it is your deer, for he fell when you
fired!" Sandy declared, stubbornly.</p>
<p>In another minute the brothers had arrived
at the spot, to find the foot of a dark-faced
forest ranger planted on the dead buck, and
three pairs of snapping black eyes looking at
them in defiance.</p>
<p>Apparently their right to the game was about
to be seriously questioned!</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER VII<br />
<small>THE THREE FRENCH TRAPPERS</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Keep</span> cool, now, Sandy!" advised Bob, as
he felt his brother trembling with indignation
because of this bold attitude on the part of the
trio of French forest rangers, who evidently
believed in the maxim that "might makes
right."</p>
<p>"But, Bob, see, they mean to take our game
from us!" exclaimed the impetuous Sandy,
who could not mistake the intentions of the
French trappers.</p>
<p>One of the men was a tall, gaunt fellow, with
the eye of a hawk. He seemed to be something
of a leading spirit among his comrades. Bob
felt that he possessed a cruel nature, and such
a man, he believed, would only too gladly conspire
with bloodthirsty Indians to surprise the
new settlements of the English, and raze them
to the ground.</p>
<p>This fellow thrust himself forward, and,
scowling darkly, demanded in fairly good English:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
<p>"What for you say zat ze game is yours?
Haf you not ze eye to see zat aftaire ze first
fire ze buck he nevaire run far? And as for zat
bullet you send, poof! it haf been waste in ze
air!" and with that he snapped his fingers contemptuously,
as though that settled the matter
beyond dispute.</p>
<p>They were only a couple of half-grown boys,
after all, and could hardly hold out against
three burly men, accustomed to a strenuous life.</p>
<p>But Sandy was quick to see things; nor did
he have the prudence to hold his tongue when
he believed he was being wronged. No doubt
he had been more or less influenced in his
opinion of these French traders and <i>voyageurs</i>
by what he had so often heard Pat O'Mara declare—that
they were without exception the
"scum of the earth, and fit only for treason,
stratagem and spoils."</p>
<p>"But see, only one bullet has struck the deer
in a place where it would down him—right
here behind the shoulder!" he cried, pointing
with a trembling hand at the blood on the red
hair of the animal.</p>
<p>"Zat is so, young monsieur," said the
Frenchman smoothly, and with a mocking bow;
"and I assure you it was just zere zat I aim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
my rifle. Sacre! Andre, and you, Jules, tell
me if zis be not one fine shot!"</p>
<p>"But," cried the indignant Sandy immediately,
"I tell you that is impossible!"</p>
<p>The tall and ugly Frenchman scowled, and
then laughed harshly.</p>
<p>"Say you so, my leetle fire-eater?" he exclaimed.
"How it is zat you come to zat conclusion?"</p>
<p>"Because," said the pioneer boy boldly, "if
you look you will see that the bullet that killed
the buck entered from the <i>right</i>; and we were
on that side, not you. So the honor of killing
this deer belongs to my brother."</p>
<p>The other Frenchmen evidently understood
the point Sandy was making, even though not
capable of speaking much English. They
grinned, and cast quick glances at the dark-faced
leader, as if wondering how he would
take this thrust.</p>
<p>The tall trapper scowled savagely, and half
raised his empty gun menacingly. But Sandy
never gave way a particle. He knew that his
gun was still loaded, while, in all probability,
those of the others had not been recharged;
three shots had sounded, proving that all had
taken a chance at hitting the elusive buck.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
<p>"Zat is a great meestake," the fellow ejaculated,
fiercely; "and it vould be well for you
nevaire to repeat it to me. It makes me out
von liar, and think you I vill stand for zat from
a boy like you? My bullet he come <i>out</i> on ze
right side, but he go <i>in</i> at ze left!"</p>
<p>"Prove that, and neither of us will offer any
objection to your claiming the game," said
Sandy, quickly; but the French trapper's scowl
grew blacker than ever, for no doubt he caught
the chuckling of his companions.</p>
<p>"It does not mattaire in ze least," he remarked,
with his teeth snapping together.
"Zis buck is my property. I take it as my
right. All ze game in zis country is ours, and
ze Eenglish steal every time zey shoot even von
deer. Soon shall zey know who is ze real master
here. Soon will zey repent zat zey come
over ze mountains to zis land of the red men.
Zey haf not take ze warning, let zem beware!"</p>
<p>Bob was thrilled by these words; they seemed
to contain a threat of coming peril to the settlers.
Undoubtedly Pat O'Mara had not
brought his warning any too soon, for the
crafty French trappers, many of them half-breeds
too, had stirred up the Indians to the
point of declaring actual hostilities. Why, perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
the real purpose of these three men south
of the Ohio was not to find new trapping fields,
but to spy out the settlements, and learn of
their weak points, so that later in the season
they could lead the hordes of painted savages
against them, with torch and tomahawk.</p>
<p>Sandy was not yet ready to give up his claim
to the meat. He knew well it had been the bullet
from his brother's musket that had brought
this noble buck to the earth.</p>
<p>So the boy stepped a pace backward, and
raised his musket, covering the form of the
tallest French trapper. The fellow was evidently
astonished at this show of resistance
from those whom he was disposed to treat as
helpless, half-grown cubs.</p>
<p>"If you want that deer," said Sandy,
plainly, "you will have to prove your right
to ownership. Turn him over, and show us the
place where your bullet went in! When you
have done that I will own up it is your game.
But, until you do, we claim it. And I have here
a <i>loaded</i> gun to back up my claim, while all of
yours are empty! Keep your distance, or I
will fire!"</p>
<p>Bob caught his breath. He had known his
impetuous brother to do many unwise things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
in the past; but it seemed that he was now distancing
his own record. Nevertheless, since
the gage of battle had been thrown down, Bob
was not the one to shrink from accepting his
share of its responsibilities.</p>
<p>His first act was characteristic of the boy;
for it was to slip a charge of powder into the
barrel of his gun. If he could succeed in loading
before any one of their enemies thought of
doing likewise, there would be two guns to oppose
any move the French trappers might think
of making.</p>
<p>The tall man glared at Sandy as though he
would give considerable to lay hands on the boy
who dared threaten him. Still, somehow, he
did not appear to fancy the way that gun kept
pointing in his direction. And the face of the
determined lad behind the gun told him that, if
he ventured to make a single aggressive movement,
Sandy would press the trigger his forefinger
was touching.</p>
<p>The tall trapper muttered some words to his
companions, who immediately began to back
away, one moving toward the right, and the
other toward the left.</p>
<p>Faster flew Bob's fingers in the effort to get
that obstinate bullet rammed home before hostilities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
actually opened. Sandy was compelled
to keep his eyes fastened on the man directly
in front of him, so that he could not watch the
others; but all the same he knew how to control
the situation.</p>
<p>"Remember, you sir, that, if either of your
friends makes a movement, it will cost you your
life, for I shall fire instantly; and at this short
distance there is no chance for a miss. Tell
them to keep back if you want to live!" he said,
firmly.</p>
<p>The French trapper spluttered in rage, but
he saw something in the face of the determined
young pioneer that he did not exactly fancy.
So he again spoke in his native tongue to his
companions.</p>
<p>They immediately commenced to hastily recharge
their own rifles, taking pattern from the
actions of Bob. That worthy had, however, by
this time succeeded in removing his ramrod,
after sending the patched bullet home, and was
even priming his gun so as to be in readiness
for action.</p>
<p>"Stop!" he exclaimed, as he menaced first
one and then the second of the other Frenchmen.
"This thing must be settled now and for
good! You have forced us to stand up for our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
rights. Prove that the deer belongs to you, and
we will not put in a claim."</p>
<p>The tall man was once more calling out, and
how Bob wished that he understood French, so
that he could tell what was said, since he feared
that it was intended for their undoing.</p>
<p>Sure enough, as he turned once more toward
the third trapper, he discovered that the man
had disappeared, having dropped upon his face
and rolled behind a neighboring tree. And,
while he thus stood, filled with chagrin because
he had been in a measure outwitted, the second
fellow also made a quick leap that gave him
temporary shelter behind another stump.</p>
<p>The situation was becoming very much
strained, and, with their three enemies thus
widely scattered, Bob saw that he and his
brother could not long hope to hold the whip
hand over the situation.</p>
<p>It seemed too bad to think that, after all, they
must draw off, and allow these rascally allies
of the Indians to lay hold of the game that by
rights belonged to the Armstrong larder. But,
perhaps it would be best to believe that "the
one who fights, and runs away, may live to fight
another day."</p>
<p>"Come, Sandy, we must go, and admit defeat,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
he said, quickly, fearing lest even now
he find some trouble in convincing his hotheaded
brother that their best policy lay in retreating
while they had the chance.</p>
<p>Sandy shrugged his shoulders as if to show
that he did not like to abandon such a fine buck
when they had the best right to it.</p>
<p>"If we have to fight for it, let us begin by
knocking over this rascal here!" he exclaimed,
waving his levelled musket menacingly at the
dark-faced trapper.</p>
<p>"Wait, Sandy!" cried Bob. "See, there
are other men coming on the run. If they prove
to be Frenchmen we must get away! But perhaps
they may be friends, and then we shall
soon see to whom the deer belongs."</p>
<p>He had hardly spoken when Sandy let out a
yell of delight.</p>
<p>"It is Simon Kenton! That is he waving
his cap to us. Now hold your own, Bob, and do
not think of leaving this game. They will see
fair play on both sides. And I say again, if the
deer belongs to these men I would not claim it
for worlds. Huzza! what great luck we are
having!"</p>
<p>Bob, too, was thrilled by the sight of Kenton,
with several other men in buckskin, advancing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
through the forest, and closing in on the scene
of the dispute.</p>
<p>The trio of French trappers, unwilling to risk
the chances of flight, immediately assumed a
different aspect. Smiling affably, they waited
to greet the newcomers, as though now perfectly
willing to submit the question to arbitration.</p>
<p>Simon Kenton, tall and lithe as a sycamore,
hastened to shake hands with each of the Armstrong
boys. They had been favorites of the
young woodranger ever since the first day he
met them, when, with Daniel Boone, he had
joined the pack-horse caravan headed for the
banks of the Ohio.</p>
<p>"What's going on here?" he asked in his
musical voice, as his keen eyes took in the belligerent
attitude of the two lads, and the fact
that they were confronted by a trio of French
trappers; for the other two had now come out
from their places of hiding.</p>
<p>"Oh! only a dispute as to who shot the
buck," said Sandy, as though such an event
were of every day occurrence with him.</p>
<p>"We were over yonder, while these men
came from that direction," said Bob, as he
pointed one way and another. "I was just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
about to fire, when there came a shot. The
buck bounded off. Then two more guns spoke;
but the deer only leaped the harder. I pressed
the trigger and the buck dropped. When we
came up, these men met us, and claimed the
game. We told them that the only fatal bullet
had entered from the right, and offered to
prove our claim, or hand the prize over to them;
but they said they meant to have it anyway.
We were just trying to back up our words when
you happened to come up. And, Sandy, we'll
let Simon Kenton decide whose bullet killed this
fine buck."</p>
<p>Kenton looked toward the three French
trappers, whom he seemed to know.</p>
<p>"Fairer words were never spoken, Armand
Lacroix, and you know it," he said, sternly.
"You would follow out the custom of your
partner, Jacques Larue, with whom my young
friends are already acquainted, and claim
everything in sight because you are French,
and they are English. But that sort of game
will not go here. Bagstock, take a look at the
buck, and tell me whether the bullet has gone
clear through the body."</p>
<p>One of his comrades accordingly stooped,
and threw the dead animal over on the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
side; when it was plainly seen that there was
no mark of a wound in the forequarter.</p>
<p>"I knew it!" cried Sandy, triumphantly, as
he grinned at the baffled Frenchman.</p>
<p>"There you see, Lacroix," observed Kenton,
with a nod and a smile, "the lead that
brought this buck low came from the right;
and this lad says he and his brother were on
that quarter, while you stood on the left. But
thar's a fairer way to decide the truth than
that. Hand me your gun, Lacroix; I promise
that you shall have it again."</p>
<p>The French trapper looked daggers at the
young ranger; but the English were now five
to three French, and he knew the temper of
Daniel Boone's friend too well to test it to the
breaking point.</p>
<p>Accordingly he reached out his discharged
rifle, one of those long-barrelled affairs that
carried so deadly a messenger, when properly
aimed.</p>
<p>"Bagstock, dig for the bullet that killed the
buck," Kenton went on.</p>
<p>Sandy's face was wreathed in a huge grin;
for he instantly saw what the woodsman had
in mind.</p>
<p>"Now you will learn the truth, M. Lacroix,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
he said, exultantly, as the burly forest ranger,
laying his rifle aside, took out his hunting knife,
and commenced to hack at the side of the deer,
following the course of the bullet.</p>
<p>The French trapper did not appear to be at
all pleased with the probable outcome. Truth
to tell, he had already discounted the result in
advance, for he knew full well that himself and
comrades had not the first claim on the buck.</p>
<p>Presently Bagstock uttered an ejaculation of
satisfaction, and, picking something up, handed
it to Simon Kenton. It was the bullet that had
brought down the deer, a trifle dented from
striking the animal's bones, but apparently in
good shape for the purposes of identification.</p>
<p>"Just as I thought," said Kenton, laughingly.
"This bullet fits only in a musket such
as these boys carry. Nobody could ever get it
in a smaller calibre rifle like the ones you and
your comrades own, Lacroix. So, that is settled,
and settled the right way. And your road
lies yonder. Bagstock, you and Andrew keep
an eye on our friends, and if they so much as
turn around within a mile of this, <i>you know
what to do</i>!"</p>
<p>And thus the three baffled French trappers
went away. They grumbled not, seeming to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
accept their defeat as the fortune of war; but
the malignant look Armand Lacroix cast toward
the two brothers told what was on his mind.
If by chance they ever ran across his path
again, and fortune was kind to him, the Frenchman
would not be apt to forget how he had
been baited by a couple of half-grown English-speaking
American lads. And perhaps, under
such conditions, he might be able to make things
rather interesting for Bob and Sandy, particularly
the latter.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER VIII<br />
<small>SIMON KENTON, THE BORDERER</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the boys returned to the settlement,
bringing with them the buck, and accompanied
by Simon Kenton and his two companions, they
were warmly greeted.</p>
<p>The story of how Sandy had braved the three
crafty French trappers soon went abroad, and
many congratulated the boy on his firm stand.
They knew well that it was this secret French
influence which was doing so much to make the
Indians dig up the hatchet that had been buried
at the treaty of Fort Stanwix some years previous;
and in every breast existed the same
detestation for the cowardly traders who, for
the sake of gain, would encourage the savages
to resort once more to the torch, and the murderous
tomahawk.</p>
<p>Several men vanished from the post shortly
after the boys returned. It was suspected that
they had banded together with the idea of pursuing
the trio of Frenchmen, and putting it out
of their power to carry their news to other Indian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
villages; for Pat O'Mara, who was one
of this band, declared it to be his belief that
these men were messengers, sent to bear the
wampum belt of the great leader, Pontiac, to
chiefs who were even then hesitating over what
to do.</p>
<p>The men came back on the next day, and,
while none of them would say a word about the
result of their mission, it was not believed that
success had followed them, for they exhibited
no symptoms of satisfaction.</p>
<p>Simon Kenton was a great favorite in this
Ohio River settlement. As the boon companion
of the leading pioneer he would have been
warmly welcome; but, besides that, he had such
a genial nature that he made friends wherever
he went. Contact with Daniel Boone was also
doing wonders for this fine young borderer.
By slow degrees he was conquering his numerous
faults in the line of hasty temper, and
quick action, that in the past had brought him
so much trouble.</p>
<p>His place among the men of the early days
along the great river has long been recognized
in history. While he lacked some of the wonderful
qualities that made Boone beloved among
the whites, and both feared and respected by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
the Indians, still Kenton has always held a
strong place in the affection of those who know
the wonderful exploits with which his life was
crowned.</p>
<p>Although Kenton was possessed of a particularly
amiable disposition among his friends,
it is likely that his equal for recklessness was
never known. History tells us that, during the
course of his adventurous life along the border
with Boone, and alone, he many times fell into
the hands of the Indians, though they seemed
unable to hold so slippery a customer.</p>
<p>Eight times he was condemned to run the
gauntlet, always one of the most cruel of the
Indian inventions of horror; three times was
he tied to the stake, sentenced to be burned
alive; and once he was nearly slain by an ax.</p>
<p>And yet, in spite of all these things, Simon
Kenton lived to a green old age, dying in 1836
within sight of the very spot where the Indians,
fifty-eight years before, had made preparations
to torture him to death. (<a id="Note_3b"></a><a href="#Note_3">Note 3.</a>)</p>
<p>While at the settlement of our friends Kenton
and his two comrades made their headquarters
in an empty cabin, deserted by a settler
who had gone back to the fair fields of Virginia
because his wife grieved for her family,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
and was too timid to stay where at any hour
they could expect to hear the wild whoops of
hostile Indians.</p>
<p>Of course, as soon as it could be done in
secret, the head men of the settlement sought to
find out from Kenton whether the news brought
by Pat O'Mara was founded on facts, or the
result of a lively imagination.</p>
<p>"I have been in the eastern country," replied
the forest ranger, seriously; "and can
only say this, that thar are all the signs of a
big outbreak. Down in Kentucky Boone has
had to be on the defensive all the time, because
the Shawanees did not feel themselves bound
by the Fort Stanwix treaty. My friends, I regret
to say to you that the outlook is dark. Be
on your guard. If this winter passes without
a general war on the part of half a dozen
tribes, some of us will believe that we are poor
prophets."</p>
<p>And, later on, he told in detail what he and
his friends had seen and heard. The news was
distressing to these people, so many hundreds
of miles away from help, and dependent on
themselves alone to combat the gathering
clouds.</p>
<p>But there were brave hearts among those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
early pioneers. Even the women refused to believe
that they were to be overwhelmed, and
made to perish from the face of the earth. From
such stock have our forefathers sprung, and,
looking back, we have need of every adjective
at our command to express admiration for the
valor of these Ohio pioneers.</p>
<p>David Armstrong felt that he had much to
be thankful for in those days. His wife and
little family were in perfect health; but there
was one thing that seemed to be giving the
pioneer anxiety.</p>
<p>Never did any one come from over the distant
mountains but that Mr. Armstrong was
eagerly inquiring whether the newcomer carried
a letter for him. Thus far disappointment
had always been his portion; yet, after each
period of deep despondency, he would once
more pick up fresh hope, and it was usually the
brave soul of his gentle wife that put new ambitions
in his breast.</p>
<p>Years ago in Richmond, Mr. Armstrong had
been tricked by a cousin, in whom he placed
implicit confidence. The result had been that
this rascal had virtually stolen all of Mr. Armstrong's
heritage, which he had brought from
the old country.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
<p>David had gone to law about it, but, even in
this early day, the delays were most vexatious;
and for years had the case been pending. Mr.
Armstrong never lost hope that, in the end, it
would be decided in his favor, and that he
would be summoned to Richmond to take back
that which had been fraudulently wrested from
his hands.</p>
<p>He indulged in many rosy-tinted dreams of
what wonderful things he would bring back
with him, to add to the happiness of his little
brood, should such a wonderful piece of good
luck come his way.</p>
<p>Mary and he had decided that they liked this
beautiful country too well to ever return again
to Virginia. Come what would, they belonged
here on the river that flowed between forest-clad
banks into the golden west.</p>
<p>Pat O'Mara still hung about the settlement,
though at any time he was apt to disappear.
While present, he made his home with the Armstrongs,
and there never was a more welcome
guest at a pioneer's cabin than the Irish trapper
with these good friends.</p>
<p>Bob and Sandy took him over the line of
their traps, and learned many clever little tricks
that would count when the real time came for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
taking fur-bearing animals. Up to now their
efforts in that line had been more in the way of
experiments, so as to get used to handling traps,
and keeping the sly little animals from scenting
the presence of human beings around their
haunts.</p>
<p>Kenton and his friends had gone on their
way. They were really scouting, in the hope
and expectation of learning something about
the anticipated Indian uprising, so that the
weaker settlements could withdraw in time to
more secure quarters; for the winter, at least,
combining with stronger posts.</p>
<p>"I wanted father to let me go with Simon
Kenton," said Sandy, despondently, the day
after the departure of the frontiersman.</p>
<p>"But of course he refused," said Bob,
quickly; "and rightly, too. You are too young
to be wandering around the country as he does,
Sandy; and think, what would mother do without
you? It's all well enough for Kenton, who
is a man full grown, and has no home. You
belong here, Sandy, with us. How could I attend
to all the traps, and hunt in the bargain,
without you? I am glad father said no; glad
for my own sake, glad for mother, and glad for
you, too."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
<p>The reference to his mother touched the
heart of impulsive Sandy.</p>
<p>"Well," he said, slowly, "I guess it is best
I stay for another year or so, anyway; but,
some day, I'm going to follow in the footsteps
of Simon Kenton."</p>
<p>Bob said no more, knowing the nature of his
brother only too well, and by another day
Sandy had apparently quite gotten over his
grieving.</p>
<p>September was now moving along very fast,
and, almost before they would be aware of it,
the great forest trees must be taking on the
red and gold of autumn hues, as the first frost
came down from the north.</p>
<p>Each time the boys went out they set another
trap, until the entire number they owned were
in use. The prospect ahead looked rosy,
indeed, if only that story in connection with
the threatened Indian war could be forgotten.</p>
<p>Sometimes it came to Bob in the dead of
night, to cause him more or less grave thought,
for his was a nature unlike Sandy's lighthearted
one; and, before Pat O'Mara departed,
he had once more impressed upon the older lad
the necessity for unusual care in making their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
rounds of the traps, or venturing into the surrounding
forest in search of game.</p>
<p>And, on this night in question, it seemed to
Bob that he awoke from a very vivid dream,
in which the settlement was being attacked by
countless painted Indians. So startling an
effect did the dream have upon him that he
even sat up on his cot and listened, as though
he half expected to hear the distant yells of
dancing red men as they surrounded the stockade.</p>
<p>All seemed still, however, and Bob was about
to drop back again when, glancing in the direction
of the little window, he was surprised to
find that a flickering glow came and went, as
though a fire might be burning without.</p>
<p>Hastily the boy crept from under his covers,
and went over to open the door, in order to
thrust his head outside; but, hardly had he
done this, than he received a shock that dazed
him, for he discovered that the entire side of
the cabin was in flames!</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER IX<br />
<small>THE MOCCASIN TRACKS THAT TOED-IN</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Fire!</span>"</p>
<p>Wildly Bob gave tongue, as he managed to
draw on his garments. The whole of the cabin's
inmates appeared on the scene in answer to his
cries, and all of them filled with the gravest apprehensions.</p>
<p>There was no need to ask questions, for Bob
had flown out of the door, leaving it open behind
him.</p>
<p>"Get buckets, and dip into the barrel!"
shouted Mr. Armstrong.</p>
<p>Already had Bob started his work against
the devouring flames, which were licking up the
side of the cabin, as though bent on destroying
the weeks of work on the part of the pioneers,
in this one dreadful half-hour.</p>
<p>Even Kate helped, finding some sort of pan
in which she could carry water, and dash it on
the burning logs. Bob quickly saw that the
barrel would soon be exhausted at this rate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
They must have a further supply of water if
they hoped to battle successfully with the
greedy flames.</p>
<p>"Come with me to the spring, Sandy!" he
cried huskily. "We must have more water!
This way, Mr. Brewster, with your bucket!
And please run with all your might!"</p>
<p>A neighbor had arrived on the scene, for the
cries of the family as they fought the devouring
element had been heard, and there was no need
to ask what had happened, since the flames
could be seen for some distance.</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster had come up with his musket in
one hand, and an empty bucket gripped in the
other. Thus he was prepared for almost anything
that might arise, for, with all this talk of
an Indian uprising in the air, it was only natural
that he might suspect there would be need
for the firearm as well as the wooden pail.</p>
<p>The three hastened to the spring, in order to
secure a further addition to the supply of water.
Before they had gone half way another figure
showed up, being a second neighbor who, like
Mr. Brewster, had come prepared to cope with
any emergency. He joined the procession of
runners; and in this order they arrived at the
spring, which was located about eighty yards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
from the Armstrong cabin, and used by several
families in common.</p>
<p>Fortunately it was of some depth, so that
quite a pool formed at its "run-off." Here
they filled their buckets, and started back just
as fast as they could go without spilling the
contents.</p>
<p>Others began to arrive, for, as the clamor increased,
every cabin in the settlement yielded
up its quota of eager assistants. In a little
community like this, where hundreds of miles
separated them from civilization, with untold
perils surrounding them, the interest of one
must ever be the interest of all. They knew not
what terrible danger might be abroad; but,
with the bold spirit that marked the early
pioneer, they sallied forth to grapple with
whatever threatened.</p>
<p>And these men did yeoman service. Some
slapped at the creeping flames with garments
that had been saturated with water; others
beat frantically with branches and bushes;
while the few who had means for carrying
water dashed this natural enemy of fire on the
flames.</p>
<p>Thus it was only a short time before they got
the fire under control, for many hands made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
light work. Some damage had been done, it is
true, and Mr. Armstrong would have to do
more or less repairing to his cabin ere it would
be in as good shape as before the fire. Still,
he and his good wife felt that they had much
for which to be grateful.</p>
<p>"How did it start?" asked old Anthony
Brady.</p>
<p>There was latent suspicion in his voice, for he
had seen that the fire had all been on the outside,
which would indicate that it certainly
could not have started in the interior from a
smouldering brand falling beyond the hearth,
such as had been the case in one other alarm
they had had earlier in the season, before the
cool nights had gone.</p>
<p>"I think I can make a guess," remarked Mr.
Brewster, who had also been looking about
while actively engaged in fighting the devouring
element. "You can see that it was on the
side where Mrs. Armstrong has her soap-kettle.
She must have left a bed of red ashes after
rendering down the bear fat with the lye, and,
during the night, the wind swept some of these
against the logs. Perhaps there was a handful
of dead leaves to act as tinder; and the rest
came easy."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
<p>"But," said Bob's mother, quickly, "I did
not have a fire under the soap-kettle yesterday,
nor the day before. Indeed, it is a full week
now since I used it."</p>
<p>The men looked quickly at one another.
They realized now that there might be something
more about this midnight burning than
any of them had ventured to imagine. Log
cabins do not take fire so easily, in the middle
of the night, without some human agency back
of the catastrophe.</p>
<p>"Come," said Anthony Brady, hoarsely,
"this must be looked into. If some wicked
person put the torch to this cabin, we ought to
find out who he was, and punish him accordingly."</p>
<p>By this time there were fully a dozen men
around, and nearly all of them carried guns of
some pattern, either the long rifles of the day,
or muskets that at close quarters were just as
deadly.</p>
<p>Stern faces grew even more set as they heard
their leader thus declare himself. If a house-burner
were abroad, then he must surely belong
to one of two species—for they could not
imagine any but a sneaking Indian, or a malicious
French trapper, doing so mean a deed.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
<p>Several of the most expert trailers began to
circle around at some little distance from the
cabin. They carried either rude horn lanterns,
or else burning torches of fat pine, with which
each cabin was usually well supplied, since
candles were not plentiful in those days, and
had to be made, like the soap, from the surplus
fat taken from some bear that had been secured
for food.</p>
<p>Bob and Sandy came together while thus employed.</p>
<p>"Did you hear what old Reuben Jacks said,
Bob?" asked the older boy, meaningly.</p>
<p>"You mean about that Frenchman, Armand
Lacroix?" the other lad replied.</p>
<p>"Yes," Sandy went on, eagerly; "they
hunted for him high and low, but without success.
Reuben believes that he, or one of his
men, must have done this out of revenge, because
we defied him and took away the buck
when he had declared he meant to possess it."</p>
<p>"It may be so," Bob observed, thoughtfully.
"I have heard so much about the treachery
and trickery of those traders from the north,
that I would not think it beyond one of them
to try and burn a cabin in the night. That man
hates us both, and you particularly, because of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
the way you held your gun at his head. I shall
never forget how his black eyes glittered as he
looked at you on leaving. It was as if he
wanted to remember you for years to come."</p>
<p>"Listen! some one is calling!" exclaimed
Sandy just then.</p>
<p>"It is old Reuben Jacks, and he has made
some sort of discovery; or else he would not
lift his cracked voice in that shrill way. Come,
Sandy, let us run thither, and see what it may
be."</p>
<p>The two boys, both of whom were now carrying
their guns, even though but partly dressed,
made a dash toward the spot where the shouts
went up. They overtook several others; and
in another minute quite a group had gathered
around the figure of the gaunt old woodranger.</p>
<p>"What is it, Reuben; what have you found
to give tongue that way?" demanded Anthony
Brady, with authority in his heavy voice.</p>
<p>"Look, neighbors!" said the other, pointing
down toward his feet.</p>
<p>"Footprints leading away from the cabin!"
exclaimed one.</p>
<p>"And made by an Injun, too, for the toes
turn in!" came from another.</p>
<p>"Reuben, you have made a valuable discovery,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
Brady remarked, after he had himself
bent over to examine the footprints in the soft
soil, which the keen and practised eye of the
old man had detected. "An Indian has been
here after night set in; for you all remember
there was just a little rainfall at dark, and this
trail has been made fresh since then."</p>
<p>"It is the track of the burner! Let us follow
it, and punish the hand that held the torch!"
cried an excitable young man, waving his gun
above his head.</p>
<p>Bob and Sandy exchanged a quick glance; and
the latter seemed to ask a question of his
brother, since Bob quickly remarked:</p>
<p>"No, this does not prove that we were
wrong; for Lacroix may have been in league
with the Indians; and he could easily engage
one of the red men to come here to do his work
for him. It may be that the torch of a Pottawottomi
or a Shawanee set fire to our cabin;
but, Sandy, the hand of a Frenchman was back
of it!"</p>
<p>With Reuben in the van, half a dozen of the
men started following the fresh trail. They
could have but little hope of coming upon the
culprit, unless the Indian might have hidden
near by, wishing to enjoy the confusion and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
wild alarm his wanton act had caused; but,
since they were so aroused, it might be just
as well to scour the immediate neighborhood
in order to give vent to some of their enthusiasm.</p>
<p>A few of the settlers had gone home. They
could not tell what this midnight burning might
signify. Perhaps other incendiaries were
abroad, and at any moment another fire would
call for attention.</p>
<p>Every man was keyed up to a pitch where it
would have gone hard with any Indian or half-breed
falling into his clutches just then. The
entire settlement was astir. Women had armed
themselves, not knowing but that a general
attack might be forthcoming. And the wives
and daughters of these early Ohio pioneers were
well fitted to be the mates of the bold spirits
that braved the unknown perils of the great
wilderness. Many of them could handle a gun
almost as well as the men.</p>
<p>The tracking party had now entered the
dense woods. They had been warned by the
older and more cautious members of the community
to be careful lest they fall into some
cunning ambush. That plain trail may have
been left purposely in order to excite their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
anger, and bring them under the guns of concealed
enemies, who would shoot them down
without mercy.</p>
<p>This was Indian nature. Treachery went
hand-in-hand with the war tactics of the red
men. They thought it no wrong to lure their
foes into a trap, and then slaughter them as
wolves might be cut down. Pontiac himself
had shown how exceedingly clever and crafty a
warfare could be exercised against the white
man.</p>
<p>At the important trading post of Michilimackinac
hundreds of his Indians, mostly Sacs
and Chippewas, had been loitering around the
fort for days. On the king's birthday they had
proceeded to celebrate by a great game of ball.</p>
<p>The sport had been carried on with all the
customary noise and confusion; and the unsuspicious
garrison allowed the players to rush
within the stockade when the ball, seemingly
by accident, was knocked over the high palisade.</p>
<p>Under their blankets many of the Indians carried
muskets, with the barrels sawed off short;
while all had their tomahawks and knives. At
a given signal they fell upon the garrison, and,
although a terrible fight ensued, the surprise
was complete, so that a massacre had followed.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
<p>Nine other trading posts had fallen in much
the same way, and the most important of all,
Detroit, had a close call, when the sachem Pontiac
laid siege with his allied tribes.</p>
<p>Although time had passed since these exciting
days, the wily chieftain still lived to plot
new schemes for the destruction of the encroaching
whites. And never was his dreaded
name mentioned in a weak border settlement
without a shudder.</p>
<p>This was why the older men had warned the
more hotheaded to be careful lest they run into
an ambuscade; for it was a favorite trick
among the Indians to lure rash settlers away
from the shelter of their stockade by some such
stratagem, and then fall upon them in overpowering
numbers.</p>
<p>Clouds hid the moon from sight, but, only for
dense foliage of the forest trees, the night
would hardly be called dark. There were just
seven in the band that pushed through the
woods, following that trail. Old Reuben, at the
head, held his blazing and smoking pine torch
low, so that his eagle eyes might keep track of
the imprint of those moccasins that toed-in.
Behind him came the others, with guns ready
for immediate use, and eyes trying to pierce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
the gloom that loomed up ahead like a black
wall.</p>
<p>No doubt after a time, when they had cooled
down somewhat, a more sensible view of the
situation would come over these eager trailers.
Finding that the Indian had headed straight
away from the settlement, they must realize
the folly of trying to follow him further in the
perilous night time, and retrace their steps back
home.</p>
<p>Once they heard a crash, as some frightened
wild animal floundered through the bushes
ahead. It must have been a prowling bear, for
no other creature would make so great a noise.
Again their alert ears, that could pick up the
faintest sounds, caught the snort of a deer that
may have been viewing the advance of these
strange fireflies through the woods until they
came too near for comfort, and then fled swiftly
with tremendous bounds.</p>
<p>Each time the men had gripped their guns,
thinking that something was about to occur;
but only once more to relax the nervous
strain.</p>
<p>"I surely saw something move ahead, Bob!"
exclaimed Sandy, who was alongside his brother
in the forward movement.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
<p>"Where?" asked the other, quickly; while
the nearest neighbor cocked his head to listen,
half raising his musket menacingly.</p>
<p>"Over there where that tree hangs down
across the way," replied Sandy, pointing with
his gun.</p>
<p>"Well, we must soon know whether it means
anything," replied Bob, "for we are headed
that way right now."</p>
<p>"Look! look! it must be a man; and he is
waving a white flag to us! He does not want
us to fire upon him at sight!" cried Sandy, a
few seconds later.</p>
<p>"Yes, you are right," declared his brother.</p>
<p>Of course the attention of all the members of
the tracking party had now been attracted
toward the moving object, which every one
could see was a piece of white cloth being waved
up and down. They changed their course just
a little, and headed in a bunch for the spot.</p>
<p>"Be careful, lads!" said old Reuben. "Nobody
kin tell what the sly critters may be up to.
Keep yer hands on yer triggers, but don't shoot
till I give the word. Unless I'm mightily mistaken,
that arm is an Injun's. Spread out a
leetle, lads. He wants us to get closer still,
afore he gives over wavin' that rag. Thar!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
he's dropped the thing! Easy now, and wait!
Ha!"</p>
<p>As the old woodranger gave vent to this last
exclamation, the unseen party who had been
signalling to them from behind the big oak,
suddenly stepped into view, holding both hands
above his head in token of amity.</p>
<p>Both Bob and Sandy uttered cries of astonishment.</p>
<p>"Why," cried the latter, "see Bob, it's our
friend, Blue Jacket!"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER X<br />
<small>BLUE JACKET'S WARNING</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Shoot</span> the cabin burner!"</p>
<p>"He made the tracks we've been following!
A rope would come in handy!"</p>
<p>"The sneaking hound, to turn on the boys
who saved his life! But it's only what we ought
to expect from an Injun!"</p>
<p>"He ought to be made meat for the crows,
men!"</p>
<p>These angry exclamations arose from the
group of settlers as they saw who was coming
from behind the giant oak. Both Bob and
Sandy, however, never for a moment dreamed
of suspecting the young Indian brave of being
concerned in the recent outrage.</p>
<p>They had found him seriously wounded at
the time of the arrival of the emigrants on the
Ohio. True, his hurts had doubtless been received
during the preceding attack upon the
camp of the pioneers, but the two boys did not
let that influence them.</p>
<p>Something seemed to draw them to Blue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
Jacket, and they had nursed him tenderly in
the new cabin, until one night he had vanished.
The older settlers, who did not believe that a
true heart could beat under a red skin, were
loud in their declaration that the boys had only
nursed a snake that would come back to sting
them.</p>
<p>But, when Sandy was captured and carried
away to the Shawanee village, it was by the aid
of Blue Jacket that his release was finally accomplished.</p>
<p>Since that day they had seen more or less of
the young Indian. He occasionally turned up
at the Armstrong cabin, to spend a few days
with his white friends, of whom he seemed very
fond; then he would vanish in a mysterious
way without saying good-bye, to once more reappear,
weeks later, always bringing in a deer,
or a wild turkey, as a present for the sweet
little mother who reigned as queen of the frontier
cabin. (<a id="Note_4b"></a><a href="#Note_4">Note 4.</a>)</p>
<p>Sandy, more impetuous than his brother,
though not any more fond of the young Indian,
hearing these hasty and ugly remarks, immediately
sprang forward, and, placed himself in
front of Blue Jacket, spread out his arms as he
exclaimed with a show of anger:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
<p>"Don't any one of you dare to lift a hand
against him! He is our friend, tried and true!
Why, sooner than try to burn our cabin, Blue
Jacket would put his own hand in the fire and
let it be consumed. I stand for him. The one
who raises his hand against Blue Jacket will
have to fight Sandy Armstrong!"</p>
<p>After that, of course, the guns that had been
half-raised were allowed to drop once more;
but the dark scowls did not leave the stern faces
of those who gathered around.</p>
<p>"See here, Sandy, and you, too, Bob," said
one of their comrades, as he shook his head
gravely; "it may look all right to you; but
there are some of us who fail to see anything
good in Indians. We have followed the tracks
of the redskin who tried to burn your father's
cabin. It led us here. And, from behind a tree,
comes this young brave. We believe he is the
guilty one, and, unless he can prove his innocence,
we think we have a right to punish him,
even to the extent of taking his life!"</p>
<p>"You shall not harm a hair of his head!"
cried Sandy. "I tell you it is impossible that
he could have done so horrible a thing as try to
burn our cabin. It may have been an Indian,
as the tracks prove; but Blue Jacket, never!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
<p>"Listen," said the cooler Bob; "why should
he wish to attract our attention if he had done
this deed? All he had to do was to remain
hidden behind that tree, and we would have
passed by without seeing him."</p>
<p>"But tell us why he came out holding his
hands above his head; and for what reason
should he wave the white rag?" demanded a
fiery, half-grown fellow.</p>
<p>"You would have done the same had you
seen several men armed, and ready to shoot at
a sound, passing through the woods with
torches," replied Bob, soberly. "Blue Jacket
was wise enough to understand that sometimes
people shoot first, and ask questions afterward."</p>
<p>The young Indian had listened with an impassive
face to what was being said. From
childhood had he been trained to hide all signs
of emotion as unbecoming to a warrior. While
he did not fully understand the reason for this
hot-tempered action on the part of the young
whites, still, doubtless, he could draw certain
conclusions.</p>
<p>"No burn cabin. Blue Jacket been way off
in hills and think best see white father, Sandy,
Bob. On way when see fire flash through trees.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
Hide so can know what mean—not want get
hurt, so wave white flag. Ugh! Blue Jacket
talk with straight tongue; no lie!"</p>
<p>He held up his right hand, and looked aloft
through the branches of the trees, as though
calling upon the Great Spirit to witness that
what he so solemnly declared was true.</p>
<p>"If he swears that he is innocent, let him
prove it!" demanded the same young hothead
who had before spoken.</p>
<p>"Just as you say," returned Bob, who had
the utmost confidence in his copper-colored
friend. "Come, let us all go back to where
those moccasin tracks are, which we have followed
from our cabin. We will soon see if they
were made by those Blue Jacket has on."</p>
<p>"But that is foolish," remarked one of the
others. "All moccasins are pretty much alike;
and they make tracks that are as much the same
as peas in a pod."</p>
<p>"Is that so, Reuben?" asked Bob, appealing
to the old and experienced woodsman, who
knew Indians like a scholar would the pages of
a printed book.</p>
<p>"It air not," came the positive reply. "In
the fust place, every tribe has its own way o'
makin' footwear; and I kin tell at a look jest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
which belongs ter a Shawanee, a Sac, a Pottawottomi,
a Delaware or an Iroquois. Even
among the Six Nations thar's much difference,
a Seneca's being built different from the moccasin
of a Mohawk or an Oneida."</p>
<p>"I thought so," said Bob, smiling as though
pleased. "And, Reuben, tell us if even Shawanee
moccasins may not be known apart by some
peculiar mark?"</p>
<p>"A-plenty of times I've seen it. This one
might have a patch at the toe; another show
some mark whar the skin had been worn; or
p'raps a crease straight acrost the foot," the
old man replied, frankly.</p>
<p>"And did you notice any such mark about
the track we have been following—anything
you would know again, no matter where you
saw it?" Bob went on; for his own eyes had
told him something far back, that had to do
with this very thing.</p>
<p>"Yes, thar war such a mark, Bob," returned
the experienced woodsman. "Many
times I saw it in the track. It looked like the
Indian's moccasin kept comin' off, and he hed
tied a piece of deerskin thong around his foot.
Besides, it was bigger nor any footprint I've
run acrost this many a day."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
<p>"Look down at the feet of Blue Jacket, Reuben;
and here is one of the tracks we followed.
Tell me, did the same foot make both prints?"
and Bob, as he thus spoke, pointed at the ground
where the young warrior stood.</p>
<p>The settler was already on his knees. He
took a slender stick, and carefully measured
the marked track of the moccasin. Then he applied
the rule to the plainly seen imprint left
by Blue Jacket as he voluntarily moved aside.</p>
<p>Every eye saw immediately that there were
fully two inches difference between the length
of the unknown cabin-burner's foot and that of
Blue Jacket.</p>
<p>"I knew it!" cried Sandy, as he turned with
flashing eyes toward the one who had demanded
speedy justice on general principles. "You
see how foolish you were, Abner; to want to
do him harm without the least evidence against
him, only that he is an Indian. Blue Jacket is
a friend to the Armstrong family, even if there
are others who do not like him."</p>
<p>The Indian stood with folded arms. He cast
a quick glance of affection in the direction of
Sandy when that impulsive individual spoke so
warmly in his defence; but toward the others
of the group he maintained a cold reserve. Like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
all of his kind he scorned to show what was in
his heart, when the eyes of those who were unfriendly
to him watched his every move.</p>
<p>"Shall we go on?" asked old Reuben, looking
dubious as he spoke.</p>
<p>"It would be useless, I think," Bob observed.
"We know by now that the man who put the
torch to our cabin has fled. He can travel twice
as swiftly through the forest as we could follow
on his trail. Let him go. After all, no great
harm has been done; and another time we may
catch him at his work, if he comes back."</p>
<p>"Besides," added Reuben, "we stand a
chance of runnin' into ambush, if so be he has
friends near by. If you ask me, I say return
to the settlement."</p>
<p>Of course, after that, even the impetuous Abner
could not venture a protest; and he certainly
had no desire to continue the useless hunt
alone, or with a single companion. Accordingly
the party turned back, and threaded the dark
forest aisles, heading in a direction that would
bring them to the settlement.</p>
<p>Bob and Sandy kept Blue Jacket between
them. They had also fallen back a little, so
that they could talk undisturbed; for Bob had
seen something in the manner of the Indian to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
convince him the other had sought the home of
the Armstrongs with some important message.</p>
<p>"It has been long since Blue Jacket visited
his white brothers," remarked Bob, who, when
holding converse with the other, usually spoke
after the manner of the Shawanees.</p>
<p>"Blue Jacket has been far away to the land
of the rising sun, and the country of the big
waters," replied the other, in his low musical
voice. "Everywhere the war drum is sounding
and the dance keeps up night after night.
The great chief Pontiac has sent the wampum
belt to all the tribes, and they thirst for blood.
It may come with the new moon; it will not
keep long. Blue Jacket is an Indian; but he
loves his white brothers, Bob and Sandy. Long
distance he come to tell them to be ready. Soon
along border cabins go up in smoke, and many
pale face squaws and papoose mourn for white
braves who come not back. I have spoken!"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XI<br />
<small>TENDING THEIR TRAPS</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">The</span> manner of Blue Jacket while saying this
was grave. He had no liking for the whites,
save the family of David Armstrong. His sympathies
must be wholly bound up in the interests
of his race. And yet, unable to rest easy
when he knew these good friends would soon be
in peril from another uprising of the allied
tribes between the Great Lakes and the Ohio,
he had come to give them warning.</p>
<p>Bob appreciated what a tremendous sacrifice
this act must have been to the red brave, for,
in bringing his terrible news, Blue Jacket was
in part proving false to his teachings, and the
interests of his tribe.</p>
<p>"You must come home with us, and see our
parents," Bob insisted, when he thought he saw
an inclination on the part of the other to leave
them.</p>
<p>"Tell no more than that, Bob," remarked the
young Indian. "All can say keep open eyes
for bad times along Ohio. Big chief think now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
can drive paleface settlers back other side
mountains, never return. Many tribes send
back wampum belt wrap up round tomahawk.
Know that mean hatchet dug up; and ready to
fight. Watch out, see storm, get in fort! Blue
Jacket sorry, no can help."</p>
<p>When it was known that fresh word had
come in connection with the dreaded uprising,
the pioneers of the Ohio would find new cause
for anxiety. But there had never been a time
since their arrival that they had not been concerned
about the hostile attitude of the Indians.
Despite the protestations of some of the tribes
as to their desire for peace, even to smoking
the pipe with their white brothers, few believed
that they meant it; and hence no man ever went
far from his cabin without making sure to
have his gun along, and that the priming was
in the pan, ready for immediate use.</p>
<p>Mr. Armstrong was indeed glad to see Blue
Jacket, for while at first he had distrusted him
as an Indian, after the rescue of Sandy he
could not doubt the loyalty of the young Shawanee.</p>
<p>In the morning he hoped to find out more particulars
concerning the important news the newcomer
brought, and which fully corroborated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
that which Pat O'Mara and Simon Kenton had
carried, after their trips to the north.</p>
<p>But, when morning came, Blue Jacket could
not be found. He had vanished again, after
his usual way of leaving the cabin of his
friends.</p>
<p>"Here is some Indian picture writing on this
piece of white birch bark, that he left behind
him," said Sandy, when he had looked everywhere
without finding the dusky guest, who had
slept on the hard floor by the fire, using for a
bed only a bearskin thrown on the hard
puncheon floor.</p>
<p>By this time the two boys had learned to read
the sign language of the Indians to a fair extent.
Blue Jacket himself had taken pains to
teach them many things that had to do with
his people, and their odd ways.</p>
<p>Consequently, between them Bob and Sandy
started to figure out just what the various signs
stood for. But this time the friendly young
Shawanee had confined his efforts to one subject.
Cabins and wigwams were given over to
the flames, for the smoke curled up above each
one. The various rude figures in sight they
could understand to be Indian braves, carrying
on the massacre, dancing around fires, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
waving objects in the air that must stand for
scalps.</p>
<p>"It is only the same warning he gave us last
night," said Bob. "He wants to make us believe
that all this is coming, and we must keep
on guard, day and night. But there was little
need of that, because in Anthony Brady we have
a leader who sleeps with one eye open. Whatever
comes, this little Ohio River settlement will
never be caught napping."</p>
<p>It was indeed a time that tried men's souls.
And even pioneer boys felt the terrible responsibility
resting on their young shoulders, for, as
soon as a lad could aim and fire a gun, he became
one of the defenders of the home, and
must face danger bravely, or be branded as a
coward by his kind.</p>
<p>"When we go out hunting after this we must
always be on the watch for sneaking enemies,"
said Sandy, with a tinge of disgust in his
voice.</p>
<p>"I only hope the scare will die out," ventured
Bob, though his manner told that he did
not have great faith in this direction.</p>
<p>"Well, we must not pull too long faces about
it," remarked Sandy; "because poor mother is
dreadfully worried even now about what may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
come to pass. We can't prevent it, do what we
will, and there's no use crying till you're hurt."</p>
<p>From that time on a feeling of uneasiness
rested over the little settlement. Men went
about their daily tasks as usual; but many
suspicious glances were cast upon the heavy
forest beyond the clearing, as though they
might be wondering how soon it would be before
the shrill war cries of the painted foe burst
from those gloomy depths, and blazing cabins
told that the worst had come to pass.</p>
<p>And the women stuck closer than ever to their
homes, while children were never allowed to
stray away, as had been their habit during the
earlier summer. Around the humble tables,
when the supper was spread, the talk was chiefly
concerning such shreds of news as floated in to
them from other settlements.</p>
<p>As yet, so far as they could learn, no concerted
outbreak had occurred, although, further
south and west, the Shawanees were, as usual,
harassing the settlements founded by Daniel
Boone. But these valiant pioneers of Kentucky
were so quick on the trigger, and so ready to
match their cunning against that of the red foe,
that the Indians had not made any great progress
toward wiping out the hardy invaders.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
<p>The lateness of the season caused some of
the more hopeful to believe that the contemplated
uprising might be delayed until spring,
since winter was seldom a time for Indian warfare.</p>
<p>As they already had every trap they possessed
in use, Bob and Sandy knew that it was
necessary for them to visit the entire line daily,
unless they wished to lose what fur had been
taken over night. These traps had not been set
any great distance from the settlement, for they
had found plenty of traces of mink, marten,
otter, badger and fox in the ravines and creeks
within a couple of miles of home; and while,
at one time, they had contemplated going
further away, the uneasiness of their mother
influenced them to make a shorter circuit.</p>
<p>Accordingly they started every other day to
visit these traps. Sandy had also discovered
a colony of beaver up a lonely stream, and, as
he coveted their glossy pelts, he had made sure
to leave several of his best traps hidden just
under the surface of the water with the bait,
scented with castor, above, so that, when one
of the little animals tried to reach up, it would
surely step into the open jaws of the trap, and
be drowned.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
<p>One thing the boys had faithfully promised
their parents. This was to always keep close
together when out in the forest, either in search
of fresh meat or visiting their traps to remove
the captured fur-bearers.</p>
<p>Bob was particularly interested in every sort
of information which he could secure concerning
the Indians of this Northwest Territory.
He knew the chief differences between the
many tribes, and that, while all the rest were
in favor of the wily French traders, most of the
Iroquois or Six Nations inclined toward the
English.</p>
<p>But this did not mean that they would be
friendly toward the settlers beyond Fort Duquesne,
later known as Fort Pitt; for already
were the strong signs of rebellion rife in the
Colonies; and the Indians began to take the
side of the loyalists against the Americans.</p>
<p>Often, while he and Sandy were making the
rounds of their traps, Bob would relate something
of interest that he had managed to pick
up; and his brother, though not as deeply concerned
as himself, always asked numerous questions.</p>
<p>Some days passed after the visit of Blue
Jacket, and thus far nothing had come about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
that might excite new alarm. Almost daily
some scout or courier belonging in the settlement
would come in with news; but the reports
all seemed to point to a possibility of the outbreak
being postponed, for a while at least.
Pontiac had not had sufficient time in which to
mature his terrible scheme; because it was so
difficult to get answers from distant tribes, in
the confederacy of treachery.</p>
<p>Things were drifting on in this fairly satisfactory
way when there came a sudden break
in the calm, so far as the Armstrong family was
concerned.</p>
<p>As usual, the two boys had been out on their
line of traps, and were returning home late in
the afternoon. They had been unusually successful,
which accounted for their tardiness,
for as a rule they were home long before this.</p>
<p>Sandy had succeeded in shooting a deer, and
bore a bountiful supply of fresh meat on his
broad shoulders. Bob, on the other hand, staggered
under a goodly bunch of pelts, consisting
of two beaver, a beautiful black fox, three mink,
and some muskrat skins that were not worth
anything at the time in the market, but were
used by the settlers for making warm mitts
for winter wear, or snug caps calculated to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
keep their ears from freezing when the cold
winds howled, and the snow fell.</p>
<p>The boys had just come in sight of their cabin
when Sandy saw something that caused him to
call to his brother.</p>
<p>"Look, Bob, what do you suppose all those
people are doing around our home? I can
count five, six, seven women standing, talking;
and there's Mr. Brewster and Mr. Lane coming
out of the cabin. Oh! I wonder if that firebrand
has been about again, trying to burn us
out?"</p>
<p>And Bob, looking hastily, was also thrilled
to see that his brother spoke the truth, in so far
as the gathering of neighbors was concerned.
He too became immediately deeply concerned,
and his boyish face lost every particle of
color.</p>
<p>"No, it couldn't be that, Sandy," he said, in
a voice that trembled with new-born anxiety;
"but I fear it may be father has hurt himself
again. Ever since that tree fell on him, and
nearly took his life, he has been hardly himself."</p>
<p>"But you must surely be wrong, Bob," spoke
up the other, eagerly; "for see, there is father
coming out of the door now, and shaking hands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
with Mr. Lane. If there is any one ill it must
be our darling mother, because I can see sister
Kate with the women right now."</p>
<p>"But no, that cannot be either, Sandy," said
Bob, as he stared at the group near the cabin.
"If our mother were ill you do not believe that
both father and Kate would leave her alone,
while they gossiped with the neighbors outside
the doors? It must mean something else! See,
Kate is dancing about as though she could not
quite contain herself. Now she looks this way,
and I believe she sees us."</p>
<p>"Which is quite true," Sandy observed, still
trembling from excitement, "because the little
witch is running straight toward us as fast as
her dear feet will carry her. Listen, she is
calling something too; but for the life of me I
can't quite make out what she says."</p>
<p>"Anyhow, Sandy," Bob said, smilingly,
"we need not fear that it can be very terrible,
or Kate would not be looking so gay. See her
wave her hands to us as she dances along!
Come, why longer hang back, when by meeting
her half-way we shall the sooner learn just what
has happened to bring the neighbors to our
home."</p>
<p>"Just as you say, Bob. I was afraid at first,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
thinking that something had gone wrong with
our loved ones; but—why, there is mother
right now, joining the rest at the door. Look,
they seem to be saluting her, as though there
might be some cause for congratulations. Bob,
I no longer fear that trouble has visited us;
but, if I am shaking, it is with eagerness to
know what it all means."</p>
<p>Kate had ceased trying to make them understand;
but all the time she was rapidly approaching
the heavily laden boy trappers.</p>
<p>Almost out of breath she came up finally, to
throw her arms about the neck of one brother,
and then affectionately embrace the other.</p>
<p>"Come, what ails you, Kate?" demanded
Bob, when the girl had repeated this demonstration
twice, as though unable to articulate,
owing to her excitement and loss of breath
through running.</p>
<p>"Good news!" she managed to say, beaming
at them in turn.</p>
<p>"Something's happened then," cried Sandy;
"something good, you say? Bob, can you make
her stop dancing around like that, and speak?
I'm feeling like I was in a dream, and just can't
for the life of me understand what could happen
out here so far away from everywhere."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
<p>Bob caught his sister, and, having dropped
his burden, threw an arm around her.</p>
<p>"Now, tell us at once," he said, in his commanding
way; "was it a letter?"</p>
<p>"Yes, yes!" she answered, with a happy
gasp, and merry eyes that seemed suspiciously
moist with tears of very joy. "A letter from
the lawyer in Richmond, telling father that at
last, after these years of waiting, the great case
has been decided, and in his favor. He is to
come and receive the money of which his wicked
cousin robbed him ever so long ago. Is it not
splendid news, brothers?"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XII<br />
<small>THE CRUEL PARTING</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Oh!</span> I'm so glad—for mother's sake!"
exclaimed Bob, his first thought being of that
beloved, patient little woman, who had stood
shoulder to shoulder with her husband through
all the hard times of the past.</p>
<p>"Yes, now she can have some of the things
other women own," said Sandy, gleefully;
"for father will have to go to Richmond, and
can bring back with him many comforts that we
never expected to get here."</p>
<p>"If only he does not have to cross the big
water!" sighed Kate, proving that there was a
fly in the ointment, after all, and that this possibility
loomed up mountain high even in the
midst of her joy.</p>
<p>Crossing the ocean in those days was a tremendous
undertaking, with the sailing craft
subject to all whims of the fickle weather for
many weeks; and few contemplated such a
voyage lightly.</p>
<p>"But father often said that if this long postponed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
case was decided in his favor he would
only have to go to Richmond to be put in possession
of his own!" remarked Bob. "So I
wouldn't worry about it, Kate, dear. But let
us go on to the cabin, for I can see mother looking
this way, and beckoning."</p>
<p>They found a happy group when they reached
the log building. The neighbors had come to
rejoice with the Armstrongs over the glorious
news; for only too well did every housewife
know the privations that had followed the loss
of Mr. Armstrong's little fortune; and how delightful
it was to realize that things were now
about to take a decided turn for the better.</p>
<p>Others came flocking to the scene, and that
night was one never to be forgotten. Such
good news as this seldom came to any of the
pioneers. As a rule those hardy men had to
build their own fortunes by daily contact with
the rough edges of life, clearing first one acre
of land, and planting it to crops; and then
slowly adding to their holdings, year by year.</p>
<p>Mr. Armstrong knew that it was absolutely
necessary that he proceed east at the very earliest
day in order to get back before winter had
settled in earnest over the mountains, since they
would be utterly impassable once this occurred.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
<p>He consulted with some of his best friends;
for since they had been neighbors many months
now they had come to know each other fully.</p>
<p>His wife was both happy and oppressed.
She knew that her little family would be rendered
better able to withstand the hardships of
pioneer life after David had been to the east,
and returned, bringing the many things so
needed to make them comfortable; but the
thought of the separation gave her much pain,
since the pair were very devoted to each other.</p>
<p>But it was considerable pleasure to be able to
make out a long list of things which the good
man was to secure, after he had come into his
own. Several pack animals would be needed
on which to transport all he expected to bring
to the Ohio. The neighbors, almost to a family,
thought of various little things they needed;
and Mr. Armstrong was commissioned to purchase
these.</p>
<p>"Why," he laughed, as another day had
passed, with his list growing to a formidable
length, as still more of the settlers' wives came,
with money and a request that he buy them
this article or that; "if this keeps on I'll surely
have a regular caravan under my charge, as
numerous as the one with which we first crossed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
the mountains, and found this beautiful spot
on the Ohio."</p>
<p>"But, father," said far-seeing Bob, "that
will be all the better, for it has been some time
since there was a pack train out of Virginia
headed this way, and I am sure quite a lot of
people will want to join you. They have been
hearing stories about this golden west a long
time now; and we know what that means."</p>
<p>"Yes," observed the good wife, as she looked
up into the bronzed face of the pioneer; "and
if the company is large, the better I shall be
pleased, David, because it will mean that you
are safe. Bring them along, all who yearn to
come hither. We will stand by them—the men
to help build cabins before the winter sets in;
the women to assist in fitting their homes up,
so as to give the newcomers a start. There is
room in plenty here in this glorious country,
where people can really breathe without paying
taxes to a king three thousand miles away."</p>
<p>That evening the neighbors flocked to the
Armstrong cabin to spend a few hours with
those for whom they had come to feel so much
respect and affection. If some of them secretly
envied the Armstrongs their great good fortune,
they managed to conceal the fact, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
every one seemed bubbling over with happiness.</p>
<p>On the morrow the start was to be made. All
preparations had been completed looking forward
to the event. It happened, fortunately,
that several parties were expecting to leave for
the fields of Virginia about this time; and,
since greater safety would follow if they went
together, they had managed to set upon this
day, close upon the verge of fall, for a start.</p>
<p>Often during the evening Bob caught his
father's eyes fastened upon himself and Sandy.
He knew well what thoughts must be passing
through the mind of the pioneer. And again
and again did Bob promise himself that he
would strive to do everything in his power to
fill that father's place while the head of the
family was absent.</p>
<p>There was really little sleep under that humble
roof that night. First, the excitement attaching
to the visit of so many neighbors broke into
the routine of their daily life. Then, after these
good friends had departed, it was found that a
number of things had been neglected that were
absolutely necessary for the comfort of the
traveller.</p>
<p>The party anticipated making an early start<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
in the morning, so none of these could be postponed.
Besides, it was only natural that every
member of the family should be worked up to
a high degree of nervous anxiety, and lie awake
long after they had sought their cots, thinking
of a thousand and one matters.</p>
<p>Early indeed were they astir. Breakfast was
prepared as usual; but, on this morning, no
one had much heart for merriment. Mrs. Armstrong
indeed kept a smile on her face, but it
was forced simply to encourage her husband;
since she knew only too well how he must feel
at the idea of thus separating himself from all
he held dear on earth.</p>
<p>Bob, Sandy and Kate tried their best to appear
natural, but it was indeed hard work.
Often Kate would make some excuse for darting
out of the room, and, when she came back
a little later, there was always a suspicious redness
about her eyes that told plainly how she
had indulged in a cry to ease the numb pain
in her girlish heart. And even fun-loving
Sandy dared not take her to task, for he was
on the verge of a breakdown himself.</p>
<p>Mr. Armstrong, seeing how his wife exerted
herself to sustain him, and ashamed to let her
bear the whole burden, made a great effort, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
mastered his feelings. He took Bob aside as
they left the table, and with a hand on the
shoulder of his oldest boy said:</p>
<p>"Be very careful, son, while I am away.
Your mother will have no one but you to stand
by her, for Sandy, though a well-meaning lad,
is hardly to be depended on in times of stress.
Be vigilant and watchful. Remember that we
have to deal with a cunning and merciless foe,
and, should there be an attack on the settlement,
see to it that your mother is quickly taken inside
the stockade. I depend much on you, Robert;
and, if it were not so, nothing could induce me
to leave home with these ugly rumors of trouble
floating to our ears. You promise me to do
everything a man could for your sister's and
your mother's well-being?"</p>
<p>And Bob, looking firmly into the face of his
father, managed to say in reply:</p>
<p>"I promise to try and fill your place, father,
as best I may. But oh! we will count the days
till your return. If Pat O'Mara comes in while
you are away, perhaps he may agree to stay
with us. Try and think all is going well. Sandy
and I have many plans ahead; but we will stick
as close to our home as may be. Do not fear
for us. And, just to think, how happy we will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
all be when we see you come home again, bringing
so many things to make our dearest mother
happy."</p>
<p>That was all. These two understood one another,
so that many words were not necessary.
Bob had always been a serious lad, and right
well did his father know that in trusting him
he was not putting his faith in jeopardy.</p>
<p>Apparently the entire settlement had gathered
to witness the departure, as well as wish
the travellers Godspeed on their way.</p>
<p>Even little Kate brightened up with all this
clamor around her, and smiled; though, after
the parting had taken place, she would doubtless
sob her heart out on her mother's breast.</p>
<p>Dogs barked, men called, horses neighed, and
women chattered. It had indeed been a long
time since the new settlement on the river had
witnessed such excitement. Each of the men
had a horse upon which he expected to make
the long mountain trip. Two of them did not
intend to return again to the Ohio; but the
third man had business at the coast, and was
taking advantage of this favorable opportunity
to make the double trip in good company.</p>
<p>And then, finally, came the moment when, for
the last time, David Armstrong took his wife<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
and children into his strong arms, to give them
a hug and a farewell kiss.</p>
<p>Tears fell in showers from the blue eyes of
Kate; and even many of the women could not
refrain from weeping, affected by the scene;
but, through it all, gentle Mrs. Armstrong maintained
her sweet and encouraging smile, and
she looked into the troubled face of her husband,
as she put him from her, with the same
brave expression.</p>
<p>But Bob knew only too well how hard it was
for her to keep up, and that, once she could be
free from all those curious eyes, the wells of her
sorely-stricken heart would burst out in silent
weeping. But no mortal eyes would witness
her sorrow, nor would any of her dear ones be
discouraged by seeing her give way.</p>
<p>Now the four men had mounted. Tied to
their saddles were numerous packages containing
things intended for their comfort on the
long and arduous trip. Each carried a blanket
wrapped in a roll, and, of course, a gun, with
plenty of powder in the horn, as well as bullets
in the pouch that hung suspended from their
shoulders, as was the custom.</p>
<p>One last look at his little family, and then, as
the word was given, David Armstrong dug his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
heels into the sides of his horse, to follow after
his comrades of the trail.</p>
<p>A cheer burst forth from the assembled settlers.
Then some one started a hymn, one of
those old-time tunes which had ever been a
source of comfort to the pioneer families when
peril threatened. Every person, old and young,
chimed in; and, high above all the rest, the
sweet voice of Mary Armstrong was carried to
the ears of the departing adventurers.</p>
<p>Once Mr. Armstrong turned in the saddle.
This was just before a twist in the trail would
hide him from the view of those whom he had
left behind. Raising his hat he waved it in the
air once, twice, thrice. Then the trees swallowed
the figures of horse and rider from view.
He was gone!</p>
<p>Bob heaved a long sigh, but valiantly repressed
the tears that tried to dim his sight.
He felt that he must more than ever show himself
a man, now that his father depended so on
him to look after his little flock during his absence;
and it was surely not manly to cry.</p>
<p>Sandy had no such compunctions, however,
though he managed to hide his own emotion in
trying to comfort poor little Kate.</p>
<p>The bitterness would soon wear away with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
these younger members of the family, for they
had the abounding spirits of youth and good
health to carry them through; but many times
would that good wife sit by herself, engaged in
her duties, and tears dim her eyes as her
thoughts went out to the absent husband and
father.</p>
<p>Well did she know the nature of the deadly
perils that beset that path back to the fertile
fields of Virginia; how wild beasts lurked in
thicket and forest, ready to spring upon unsuspecting
travellers; and still more savage Indians
laid ambuscades and traps, in which to
catch their hated paleface foes.</p>
<p>In a day or two things had settled down again
at the Armstrong cabin. Bob and Sandy took
up their duties manfully. The mother might
well feel proud of having two such boys upon
whom to lean in her necessity. They were determined
to keep the family larder plentifully
supplied with fresh meat; and at the same time
increase the store of pelts that sooner or later
would prove so fine a harvest, when they could
get them to a market.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIII<br />
<small>THE GRAND HUNT</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">With</span> a winter approaching, the severity of
which none of them could more than guess at,
it was the most natural thing in the world for
the Ohio river settlers to wish to lay in a goodly
stock of dried venison and buffalo meat.</p>
<p>From the friendly Indians they had learned
just how this "pemmican" was prepared;
and, while it could not be compared to fresh
meat, still, to tide over a protracted season,
when possibly game could not be had, it promised
to prove valuable indeed.</p>
<p>Already in every cabin could be seen long
strips hanging from the rafters of the living-room,
or drying before the fire when rainy
weather prevented its being cured in the hot
sunshine.</p>
<p>Still, the meagre quantity in hand was a
source of considerable anxiety to the serious-minded
men of the settlement. Should the Indians
come in sufficient force to harass them to
any great extent, their hunting might be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
stopped. Hence, only a day or two after the
departure of Mr. Armstrong and his three companions,
a general hunt was proposed.</p>
<p>Of course it was not intended that all the defenders
of the settlement should be away at the
same time. They were formed into two companies,
one of which would be out for a couple
of days; and, upon reaching home laden with
spoils, the second detachment might try their
luck.</p>
<p>In this round-up it was hoped to secure so
large a supply of game that the housewives
would be able to put away all the pemmican they
wanted.</p>
<p>Of course Bob and Sandy were heart and
soul in the proposed grand hunt. They had already
brought in enough meat to enable Kate
and the mother to store away a vast quantity
for winter use; but, being good providers, the
boys hardly knew when to stop. Besides, both
of them loved the chase, since the spirit of the
true sportsman flowed with the blood through
their veins.</p>
<p>And so it chanced that they accompanied the
second party that went forth. It was policy
for these hunters to seek new fields for their
raid on the storehouse of Nature, since their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
comrades must have sadly depleted the number
of deer and buffaloes toward the east. Accordingly
they had turned in the direction of the
setting sun.</p>
<p>The Armstrong boys had possibly done more
tramping within ten miles of the settlement
than any other white person. Most of their
time had been spent in the forest, with gun or
trap in hand. Thus they knew the best places
for game, and were able to post the balance of
their party when they sallied forth that day.</p>
<p>As was always their custom, the boys had
kissed both their mother and sister good-bye
when starting forth on the hunt, little suspecting
what strange vicissitudes of fortune were
fated to come upon them ere they four met
again.</p>
<p>Of course it was not the intention of Bob
and Sandy to remain away from their humble
cabin home over night. Had they dreamed of
so doing they would have seen to it that the
defenceless ones were safely lodged at the
blockhouse within the strong stockade in the
centre of the settlement; just as Bob had promised
his father should be done in case of an
Indian attack.</p>
<p>A scout had come in the day before, bringing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
news that things seemed to be going on about
as before. The Indians were indulging in the
war dance it was true, and nightly the harsh
sound of the war drum might be heard pealing
through forest and over plain; but they seemed
to be holding back for some final word from that
mighty plotter and enemy of the whites, the
war-chief of the Great Lakes, Pontiac.</p>
<p>As this would be really the last big hunt, and
danger did not seem to be imminent, the boys
had no serious fears as they went forth. It
gave them so much pleasure to know that they
were filling the shoes of the absent father, and
providing food for the winter that was drawing
nearer every passing day, that they departed
in high spirits, throwing back kisses to the two
who stood at the door of the cabin, watching
their going.</p>
<p>By noon they were miles away from the cabin
in the clearing, and intent on the business that
had tempted them to the forest. The various
members of the party had arranged a central
rendezvous where they were expected to meet
after they had secured their supply of fresh
meat. There were eight in all, making just four
couples, for it was deemed wise that they should
not separate entirely.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>
<p>The vast woods that surrounded them on all
sides might hide other living things besides the
four-footed game which they expected to surprise
and secure. For unknown centuries had
the red men followed the tortuous buffalo trails
in their annual hunts, and frequent spells of
warfare between rival tribes. They looked upon
the invasion of the palefaces with increasing
concern, as meaning the gradual absorption of
this fair country; and, as time rolled on, their
efforts to stem the tide of emigration by massacre
and the torch would become more frantic.</p>
<p>At noon the boys had not succeeded in securing
their quota of game. They had purposely
given their companions the most desirable locations,
feeling certain that in good season they
would be able to accomplish all they wished,
for Sandy had ever been a lucky hunter.</p>
<p>"Come," said Bob, as they sat side by side
on a log to enjoy the "snack" Kate had put
up for each of her brothers; "we must do better
than this, Sandy, unless we want to have
them laugh at us. From now on we ought to
stir ourselves, and get either a fat deer or a
buffalo."</p>
<p>"I hope it is a cow then, and not a tough old
bull," remarked Sandy, who was munching on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
his hoe cake and cold turkey, the last of a fine
gobbler his ready musket had fetched down
some days back.</p>
<p>"Well, that depends pretty much on you,"
laughed Bob. "If you have any choice be sure
to pick out a yearling, and leave the old chaps
alone."</p>
<p>"Yes," grumbled the other, shaking his head
as he spoke; "that's all very nice, Bob; but
you know that sometimes the old bull refuses to
be let alone."</p>
<p>"Now you're thinking of that time you were
treed by a buffalo you had wounded, and kept
up in the branches for hours. Only for that
bright thought that came to you, and which led
you to fish for your gun with some yarn secured
from unravelling your stocking, you might have
stayed there all night."</p>
<p>"But I didn't, you remember, Bob!"
grinned Sandy, looking up archly. "The
doubled yarn held first-rate, and brought me my
gun. After that it was easy to send a bullet
back of the bull's shoulder; and I even had the
pleasure of toting some of his carcass home;
but mother said it was only good for soup, it
was so tough."</p>
<p>"Well," remarked Bob, rising to his feet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
and picking up his gun, "I'm ready to make a
fresh start, if you say so. And here's hoping
that we have better luck than the morning
brought us."</p>
<p>"I wonder how far he is on his way now?"
sighed Sandy.</p>
<p>They had not been speaking of Mr. Armstrong
at all; but Bob could understand readily
enough whom his brother meant, for was not
that beloved father in their minds pretty much
all the time?</p>
<p>"Oh! he can hardly be a great way off,"
Bob made answer. "You know how slow they
must travel when crossing the mountains. Still,
they have no women and children along to hold
them back. However, weeks must pass before
we can hope to see him again. Why, it will be
almost in the winter I fear, though mother refuses
to say as much."</p>
<p>Sandy gulped something down as he strode
after his brother. He could not control his
feelings as well as the stronger Bob, and the
thought of that father perhaps never coming
home again always unmanned him.</p>
<p>Presently, however, in the excitement of the
hunt, he managed to forget his anxieties; for
Sandy dearly loved the chase, and everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
connected with the great forest appealed to his
nature.</p>
<p>An hour later they chanced upon the track of
a small herd of buffaloes.</p>
<p>"It is fresh, too," declared Sandy, after he
had dropped down on hands and knees to examine
the marks of split hoofs.</p>
<p>"Then here is our meat, if we are lucky
enough to get within shooting distance," declared
Bob, looking carefully to the priming of
his flintlock musket, as was the universal habit
with the pioneers of the days of Boone, since a
lack of powder at that point, when the hammer
came down, and sparks flew into the pan, would
cause a misfire, and that generally meant
trouble.</p>
<p>Carefully the brothers crept along, first one
and then the other taking the lead, in order not
to miss the tracks of the game. They could only
hope that the buffalo might have stopped near
by, to lie down during the heat of the day, or
lick the salt at one of the known spots frequented
by such animals.</p>
<p>"Hist!" whispered Sandy, presently, as he
slowly allowed his body to sink down until he
was hidden behind the brush that acted as a
screen beyond.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p>
<p>No words were permissible under such conditions.
The wary game was too close by for
talking, even in whispers. Sandy pointed, and
made a few gestures that his companion must
have readily understood, for he immediately
nodded. They had hunted so often in company
that they had a regular code of signals for occasions
like this, to take the place of verbal communications.</p>
<p>Thus Bob understood that the buffaloes were
within easy gunshot, that several of them were
even then in sight, and appeared to be feeding;
and the opportunity for a double shot excellent.</p>
<p>Together they crept forward through the
brush, inch by inch. Arrived at the further
side they found that they could see splendidly.
Bob bent his head close to Sandy's ear, and
whispered softly:</p>
<p>"You take the mother; leave me the half-grown
baby!"</p>
<p>A minute later the reports boomed out, starting
several other animals up from the long grass
of the glade where they had been lying. The
young pioneers were gratified to see both buffaloes
fall as though mortally wounded; for the
boys were good shots, and seldom missed bringing
down their quarry.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
<p>Still they knew better than to dash recklessly
out in the open, so long as that grand old bull
with the wicked-looking black horns ran bellowing
about, snorting in his mad desire to do battle
with the unseen foe that had brought confusion
into his family.</p>
<p>Presently he, too, galloped after the other
buffaloes. Then the boys dared stand up, and
proceeded to reload their guns; after which they
walked over to their game, with the intention
of securing all they could carry of the choice
portions.</p>
<p>An hour later they were headed for the spot
agreed on as a general meeting-place for the
various couples engaged in the hunt. Each of
them was loaded down with meat, enclosed in
the hides of the animals that had fallen to their
guns.</p>
<p>"I hope the others have come in," remarked
Bob as they drew near the spring that
bubbled out from under the roots of a giant oak,
and, being located on a little rise, was a prominent
object for some distance around. "We
ought to be starting homeward soon, you
know."</p>
<p>"Yes," replied Sandy, "this load is going
to fret my shoulders some, I fear, before I get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
rid of it. But it seems to me we ought to sight
the oak spring about now, Bob!"</p>
<p>"And there it is," remarked his brother, as
they suddenly came out of the dense brush into
more open ground.</p>
<p>"Why they're all back but us, it seems,"
remarked Sandy. "Four, six—why, Bob,
look, there's another one along now, seven, I
count! Perhaps a messenger from the settlement!
I hope it doesn't mean bad news. See,
they're beckoning to us! Oh! hurry, Bob,
hurry! What if it should be for us—what
if—"</p>
<p>"There, that will do, Sandy; don't be silly
enough to think up every awful happening before
you know;" but, while Bob spoke thus
bravely, his own heart was throbbing much
faster than usual as he hastened his footsteps,
and thus approached the spot where the seven
men awaited them.</p>
<p>He noted the furtive looks on their faces, and
understood that it was sympathy for himself
and Sandy that caused the lowered eyes, the
clinched hands, and the tightly compressed
teeth.</p>
<p>"What brings you out here, Mr. Harkness?"
Bob asked, trying to steady his voice, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
with poor success. "Surely no one is sick at
home—our mother, Kate!"</p>
<p>Sandy gave a groan as he saw the settler nod
his head in the affirmative when their sister's
name was mentioned.</p>
<p>"Yes, Bob," Mr. Harkness said, with an intake
of his breath; "it is Kate! Steady now,
my poor boys, and be brave! She has been
carried off by a prowling band of Indians!"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIV<br />
<small>BLACK BEAVER STRIKES</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Oh!</span> it must be a terrible mistake; you
can't mean it, Mr. Harkness!" cried Sandy,
white of face, and trembling like a leaf.</p>
<p>Bob, however, understood. He knew the settler
would never have sought them out simply
to carry an idle rumor. And probably, in that
moment of acute pain, the young pioneer once
again saw those beady black eyes of the Seneca
chief, Black Beaver, as they fastened greedily
upon the pretty face of little Kate. He, too,
was thrilled with horror when he heard those
terrible words; but, fortunately, he could control
himself much better than his younger
brother.</p>
<p>"Tell us, Mr. Harkness; is Kate lost; and
do they only believe she has been carried off,
or is it proved?" he asked, his voice hoarse
with suffering.</p>
<p>"I am afraid it is but too true, my lad," replied
the settler, as he laid his hand on the
shoulder of the Armstrong boy.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
<p>"Did any one see it done?" continued Bob,
between his set teeth; for he could not believe
that any neighbor would have stood idly by,
and witnessed such an abduction, without doing
everything in his power to thwart the evil designs
of the prowling red men.</p>
<p>"No. Kate went to the spring for water.
Her mother thought once she heard a little cry,
and was worried; but, stepping out of doors,
she looked that way, and believed she saw
Kate's shawl moving among the trees, as
though she were stooping down to pick some
late wild flower. Reassured, she returned to
her work indoors. An hour passed. Then, suddenly
she remembered the circumstance and,
alarmed, she hurried to the spring."</p>
<p>"And Kate had disappeared?" exclaimed
Bob, in dismay.</p>
<p>"Yes," replied the man. "Your mother
called aloud again and again, her alarm increasing
each moment as no answer came.
Wildly she ran across to the cabin of Mr.
Brewster, which was the nearest of all the
neighbors. He happened to be at home, and,
seizing his gun, immediately hurried to aid
her, meanwhile sending his boy to sound the
alarm."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
<p>"Yes, yes, and when they arrived what did
they learn?" demanded Sandy.</p>
<p>"They had hardly reached the cabin when
who should appear from the woods but your old
friend, Pat O'Mara, returned unexpectedly
from his last scout."</p>
<p>Both Bob and his brother gave utterance to
a cry of joy when the settler uttered these
words.</p>
<p>"How fortunate we are to have him with us
now!" exclaimed Bob.</p>
<p>"So we all thought," went on Mr. Harkness.
"When he had learned what was the trouble,
O'Mara immediately made us all keep back until
he could closely examine the vicinity of the
spring."</p>
<p>"He was looking for the tracks of the kidnappers,"
remarked one of the hunters.</p>
<p>"Truly, it was a fortunate thing that so
clever a trailer should have come into the settlement
just when his services were so desperately
needed," said another, who knew the
Irish trapper's worth.</p>
<p>"O'Mara quickly found the imprint of many
moccasins," resumed the settler. "He could
tell just how Kate had been suddenly seized by
an Indian, who crept up behind while she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
stooping beside the spring. Her bucket was
found in the bushes, just where the cunning
rascals had hidden it, so as to make her mother
think she had wandered away in search of butterflies,
or to visit some favorite nook where
she might be watching a late brood of young
quail."</p>
<p>"But you said that, after the cry, our mother
saw Kate moving about?" Bob ventured to
remark, in puzzled tones.</p>
<p>"That was only another of the crafty
schemes of the redskins," replied Mr. Harkness.
"O'Mara showed us how one of her captors
must have taken her shawl, and, throwing
it over his head, showed just enough of himself
to deceive the mother. They were evidently
afraid lest her one cry might have been heard."</p>
<p>"Please finish," burst out the fretting
Sandy; "for I am just wild to rush away home,
so as to take up the trail. Is Pat O'Mara waiting
for us to come in, so that we may all start
out together?"</p>
<p>"Not so," came the quick response. "As
soon as he found out positively what had come
to pass, the trapper vowed he would himself
pursue the fleeing Indians, and bring back the
child of his friend, David Armstrong."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
<p>"God bless him!" murmured Bob, strangely
moved by this evidence of the woodranger's devotion.</p>
<p>"Tired as he was with half a day's tramp,"
the settler went on, "and hardly waiting to replenish
his stock of powder and ball, as well as
to secure an extra flint and steel for his tinder
bag, Pat O'Mara rushed away, following the
trail."</p>
<p>"Alone?" gasped Sandy.</p>
<p>"It could not be otherwise," replied the
other, sadly. "Here were eight of the defenders
of the settlement away on a hunt. One
man must be sent out to carry you the terrible
news, as well as urge a hasty return. Since we
thus knew that hostiles were apparently on the
warpath, we dared not weaken our fighting
force further, much as we felt for your good
mother."</p>
<p>"Then let us hasten home without any
further delay," said Bob, firmly, while the
light of a great resolution shone in his brave
eyes. "Take courage, Sandy; all is not lost!
We can follow the wicked thieves; and already
our friend Pat O'Mara is hot on the trail! How
many of the Indians were there, did he say, Mr.
Harkness?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
<p>"I think four in all, counting the one who
seized your sister," came the reply.</p>
<p>The eyes of the two boys sought each other's
face; it was as though the same thought had
instantly flashed into both minds.</p>
<p>"The young Seneca chief, Black Beaver!"
exclaimed Sandy.</p>
<p>"He had three companions with him," Bob
went on; "and, instead of continuing on to his
far distant village, which he declared was away
up on the shore of the Great Lakes, the treacherous
dog has hovered about the settlement
ever since that day, waiting for a favorable
chance to come when he could steal our little
sister away. That time came when he saw us
depart with the rest on this big hunt!"</p>
<p>It was quickly arranged that Bob and Sandy
should hasten on ahead in the company of the
settler. Some of the others promised to bring in
their share of the fresh buffalo meat.</p>
<p>Forgotten was their fatigue. Love for the
sweet little sister, who had been a ray of sunlight
in that frontier cabin, urged the boys on,
so that they put the hardy settler to his best
efforts to keep abreast of them.</p>
<p>And, before the afternoon was far spent, they
drew near the cabin in the big clearing, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
the resolute arms of David Armstrong and his
two sons had built so comfortable a home.</p>
<p>It was now a scene of tremendous commotion.
Men and women could be seen moving around,
looking toward the woods, and shielding their
eyes from the fierce sun's rays, while they
watched for the coming of the eager brothers of
the little maid who had been so strangely abducted
by a savage and treacherous enemy.</p>
<p>Bob remembered the other occasion when, on
arriving home, they had found neighbors gathered
about their cabin; but how different the
conditions were! On that day it had been to
rejoice with the Armstrongs that the settlers
and their wives had gathered; now it was to
mourn, to comfort, to advise.</p>
<p>Mrs. Armstrong was prostrated by the dreadful
calamity that had befallen her; for, to have
her sweet child thus taken away, never again
perhaps to be folded in her motherly arms,
was a blow that caused her heart to sink with
dread.</p>
<p>It seemed all the worse because the father was
away, heading toward the rising sun, and himself
exposed to constant danger from the foes
that lurked in the dark recesses of the forest.</p>
<p>But, when her two brave boys had taken her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
in their embrace, and assured her that they
would never rest until Kate were brought back,
the poor mother took fresh courage. She knew
that there was still a hope, faint though it
might be.</p>
<p>The boys were filled with zeal. They knew
that an expedition lay before them such as must
dwarf all others in which they had engaged.
Even experienced forest rangers might well
pause before attempting to pierce that hostile
country, where not a friendly white might be
met, those they were apt to run across being
the trouble-making French trappers and
traders, who had come down from Canada in
the hope and expectation of arousing the combined
tribes against the English-speaking settlers,
so that the entire country might be reserved
for themselves, from the Great Lakes
down to the town on the Gulf, near the mouth
of the Mississippi River.</p>
<p>Many hands assisted them in making speedy
preparations, for every one was deeply interested
in their mission. Few expected to
ever see the brave brothers again, although all
such gloomy beliefs were kept in the background,
so that they might not add to the woes
of the poor mother.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
<p>This one brought a supply of bullets; another
filled the capacious horns with the necessary
powder, without which the adventurers
would be next to helpless, once they were far
away from the outposts of civilization. Still
a third looked after a stock of pemmican,
which was to sustain them as they pushed
ever onward into the unexplored depths
of that vast wilderness, teeming with dangers.</p>
<p>Sandy could think of nothing, he was so eager
to be on the move; but Bob, besides comforting
his mother, made sure that they had plenty of
tinder; that an extra pair of moccasins was
fastened to each belt, since they knew not when
those they wore might give way under the long
tramp; and also that both knives were in a condition
of sharpness to give a good account of
themselves.</p>
<p>All these things were done in a comparatively
short time. The sun was still two hours high
when they announced themselves as ready to
start on their perilous journey into the unknown.</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster had assured them that their
mother should be taken into his family, and
guarded well during their absence. This kindness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
gave Bob new courage, for he felt that he
could put out of his mind all anxieties concerning
their home, and devote himself entirely to
the rescue of Kate.</p>
<p>Several of the men announced that they intended
accompanying the young pioneers a
short distance on their way, to give them encouragement
and a good send-off. Nor were
the two lads averse to such a proceeding, as it
served to soften the painful parting with their
mother.</p>
<p>The trail was taken up at the spring. No
particular effort had been made by the Indians
to hide their tracks, and it was little trouble for
such keen-eyed trackers as Bob and Sandy to
follow the plain marks.</p>
<p>The dusky raiders had been careful, apparently,
to avoid being seen by any of the settlers
as they hurried away, after securing the white
girl. Since no trace of Kate's little moccasins
could be found, Bob knew that she must have
been carried.</p>
<p>More than once he stooped low to examine
the imprint in the clay of the leading Indian's
elkskin footwear. It was his purpose to know
any peculiarity that attached to those moccasins,
so that he might recognize them again at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
any future time among a dozen similar
tracks.</p>
<p>A circuit was made so as to pass fully around
and below the settlement. Then gradually the
trail began to near the border of the great river.
Bob knew what this signified. Of course the
Iroquois must have had a canoe hidden somewhere,
in which they had crossed the stream.</p>
<p>One of the men was immediately sent back to
secure such a boat, and hasten down the stream,
so that it might be available should the boys
seek to pass over to the opposite shore. Half
an hour later the little company stood on the
bank, waiting for the canoe to reach them,
having signalled to the paddler as agreed
upon.</p>
<p>Plain marks could be seen where a canoe had
been carried from the bushes and launched,
afterward being entered by the red men. There
was something more awaiting them here on the
bank of the beautiful river. A stick held a
scrap of paper, on which were a few lines of
crabbed writing. It was a message from Pat
O'Mara; and, though the Irish trapper talked
rather uncouthly, he could at least frame his
thoughts in fairly decent English.</p>
<p>This then was what he had written:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
<blockquote>
<p>"Indians crossed river here in canoe. Will
follow, and, when find where landed, leave piece
of red cloth in stick. Look for it close to water's
edge."</p></blockquote>
<p>That was all, but it signified much to the
eager boys, who were only waiting for the coming
of the dugout to themselves push across the
river. Trust to their keen eyes to discover that
tiny bit of flaming cloth!</p>
<p>"But where could he have found a boat?"
asked Sandy, looking surprised, as this puzzle
presented itself before him.</p>
<p>Bob shook his head. He knew the daring
nature of O'Mara too well to believe that the
other would halt in his pursuit simply because
he wanted a canoe.</p>
<p>"A log upon which he could fasten his gun
and powder-horn would be enough for him," he
declared, positively. "This he would push
ahead as he battled with the current of the
river. Landing somewhere below, he could
easily hasten up the shore, looking for signs.
And long before now, Sandy, he is, let us hope,
following on the heels of those treacherous
wolves."</p>
<p>"Here is the canoe, Bob," said Sandy, drawing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
a long breath of relief; for he had fretted
at the delay, counting the minutes while the
settler paddled down to where they stood waiting.</p>
<p>Quickly they jumped aboard. The canoe was
to be hidden on the other shore, so as to afford
them a means for recrossing the stream when
they returned from the chase. And how sincerely
both those devoted brothers hoped that,
when this time arrived, be it sooner or later,
Kate would be in their company again.</p>
<p>A handshake all around followed, with words
of good cheer from those who were compelled
to remain behind, despite their desire to be with
the brave boys. Then the canoe was pushed
out upon the waters of the Ohio, and the paddles
sent it flashing over in the direction of the
opposite shore, where unknown perils must
await the bold adventurers.</p>
<p>"Keep your eyes on the watch for any sign,
of a red signal!" Bob kept saying, as they began
to draw near the northern shore.</p>
<p>Sandy presently gave a cry of delight.</p>
<p>"I see it, Bob!" he exclaimed. "Just below
us, there, where that willow hangs over the
water. Pat O'Mara has been there, and found
where they landed. Now we can take up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
trail, and follow the stealers of our little sister,
even if the hunt takes us to the big waters of
the north. For never will we return while she
remains a prisoner of the red men!"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XV<br />
<small>ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Yes</span>, you are right, Sandy," said Bob, as
he, too, discovered the small flaming signal, evidently
a part of a large red kerchief he remembered
the jovial Irish trapper possessed, and
which he was not averse to sacrificing in an
emergency.</p>
<p>They headed the boat straight for the willow
that hung over the edge of the water, and a
minute later its keel grated on the pebbly beach.
Both boys instantly jumped ashore, and hastened
to reach the signal; for they saw that
again had the woodsman left a note in a splintered
stick, as though desirous of giving those
he knew would surely follow after him such
information as he himself had obtained.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>"The four Senecas at cabin—Black Beaver,
young chief—lodges on shore of Great Lake,
far to north, and west of big falls. I push on.
We may meet later. Hope! Remember our
signal calls!"</p></blockquote>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p>
<p>Every word was to the point, and in that brief
communication the trapper had given them
much news. First and most important of all
he had confirmed the suspicion both boys had
entertained as to its being Black Beaver who
had done this cruel and treacherous deed. Then
he had told them where the village was located
to which the Seneca belonged, which information
might yet prove of great value to them in case
they were unfortunate enough to lose the trail,
and have to push on at a hazard. They had
heard of the mighty cataract, Niagara, that lay
between two of the lakes, and which was undoubtedly
meant.</p>
<p>What he wrote about the signals they also
understood to signify that if, at any time, they
heard the call of a bird, thrice repeated, it would
be his method of communicating the fact that
he was near by. Many times had O'Mara
amused and interested the Armstrong boys with
his clever imitations of various feathered and
furred inhabitants of the wilderness; and even
taught them to copy the same, so that they could
read a message in such sounds.</p>
<p>"We must first of all conceal the dugout,"
said Bob, when his brother began to exhibit an
eagerness to be off.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
<p>"Then let us not waste another minute,
Bob!" cried Sandy, as he laid hold on the bow
of the craft, prepared to do his share toward
carrying it into the adjacent bushes, where it
might remain hidden until such time as they
again wanted to cross the river.</p>
<p>This duty done, Bob was ready to take up the
trail.</p>
<p>"See how thoughtful O'Mara has been," he
remarked, immediately.</p>
<p>"I see what you mean," replied Sandy,
quickly. "He has made heavy tracks as he
followed after the Indians, so that we might
have an easier task. That ought to help us
greatly, Bob, don't you think?"</p>
<p>"Surely," the older boy remarked, as he led
the way into the thickest of the neighboring
woods.</p>
<p>"But you look unhappy," continued Sandy,
who was quick to read the face of his brother.
"What worries you now, Bob? Are you positive
that Kate is with these Indians? Once or
twice a horrible fear has forced itself into my
brain that they may have slain her, and hidden
her body away somewhere."</p>
<p>"No, no, do not think that!" cried Bob, instantly,
though he could not repress the shudder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
that his brother's gloomy words brought upon
him. "I know she is alive, or was when the
Indians stepped ashore, for I believe I saw the
faint impression of her little moccasin in the
earth, almost hidden by the tread of a brave."</p>
<p>"Then what makes you frown and look so
black?" demanded Sandy.</p>
<p>"You forget that the day is almost done,"
the other remarked, significantly.</p>
<p>"To be sure it is," replied Sandy, casting a
glance aloft to where glimpses of the sky could
be seen through the dense branches of the tall
forest trees.</p>
<p>"And that when night comes we shall no
longer be able to follow the trail, while those
we hunt can keep right on, hour after hour, putting
mile after mile between us. That is what
makes me bitter," Bob said, even though he did
not pause in his onward movement.</p>
<p>"But what is to hinder our securing torches,
and continuing on as long as we can put one
foot before the other?" demanded his brother.</p>
<p>"An excellent idea, and we must try it," declared
Bob, nodding his head as if pleased over
this bright thought. "In that way we may at
least cut down some of their long lead, which
will count sooner or later in our favor."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
<p>"Yes," continued the other lad, "and if, by
chance, Pat O'Mara should glimpse our moving
torch, be sure he will hasten to join us. I will
keep an eye out from now on, so as to pick up
enough fat pine wood to serve us for torches,
once it grows too dark for you to see the trail
plainly."</p>
<p>Bob hastened as well as he was able, and, for
another hour, they kept moving on, steadily
heading into the deeper forest, where perhaps
the foot of a white man had never before been
set.</p>
<p>Then came the darkness which they dreaded.
By slow degrees Bob was finding his task more
and more difficult. Time was when he could see
the plain trail left by their friend, the Irish
trapper, as well as the footprints of the savages,
without bending over to any extent. Then
he had to get his face closer to the ground, as
twilight came on, until, finally, he declared
that he could no longer be positive that he was
right.</p>
<p>They dared not risk losing the trail. Consequently
it became necessary to halt for a brief
rest, during which they might munch some of
the tough pemmican provided for just such an
emergency. Then, a little later, when they felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
refreshed, the tracking could be resumed by
the aid of a flare.</p>
<p>Darkness now surrounded them. The trackless
forest stretched ahead, peopled only with
enemies, both animal and human. These young
pioneers never once faltered in their self-appointed
task. If, at any time, such a feeling
tried to take possession of their hearts, it was
indignantly suppressed. Only a thought of
Kate, or of that almost distracted mother whom
they had promised so faithfully to serve as
though they were men grown, was needed to inspire
them anew with determination.</p>
<p>Presently Sandy took his tinder bag, got to
work with flint and steel, and, being somewhat
of an expert in this necessary woodsman's accomplishment,
soon had a torch blazing merrily.</p>
<p>This Bob held as he once more took to the
trail, gripping his gun in one hand. Sandy came
close at his heels, with his cocked musket ready
to be discharged at a second's warning, and endeavoring
to see into the impenetrable walls of
darkness that surrounded them.</p>
<p>"How does it go, Bob?" he asked after a
bit, during which they had covered fully fifty
yards.</p>
<p>"Fine!" answered his brother. "I have no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
difficulty now, in seeing the tracks. If only they
would halt for the night, we might come up with
them. But Indians can keep up a dog-trot for
hours, you know; and these thieves are doing
that now."</p>
<p>"But can one of them be carrying our sister
all this time?" asked Sandy.</p>
<p>"Not so. Look here, and you will see the
print of her moccasin. I know it well, because
it is so much smaller than the others," remarked
Bob, halting a minute to point to the
ground at a certain open spot.</p>
<p>"Yes," cried Sandy, eagerly, "and surely
I ought to know it, too, since I helped Kate make
those same moccasins. She is alive and well up
to now. But, after all, Kate is a girl, and she
will not be able to travel long in this fashion."</p>
<p>"Then they will either have to stop and make
camp, or else pick her up and carry her," Bob
declared, positively.</p>
<p>"But which do you think it will be?" asked
his brother.</p>
<p>"They fear the anger of the whites so much,"
Bob continued, once more moving on, "that
they are anxious to get as far away as they can
from the settlement. Perhaps they know
Colonel Boone to be our friend, and his name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
is feared in every Indian wigwam from Fort
Pitt to the Mississippi, and from the Great
Lakes down to the southern border of the Dark
and Bloody Ground known as Kentucky. They
will go on, and carry Kate."</p>
<p>After that for a long time the brothers did
not exchange words, save when something came
up to excite their curiosity or their fears that
they were about to lose the trail.</p>
<p>"I can see signs to tell me they have begun
to stop now and then to hide their tracks. Only
for the help given by O'Mara I would perhaps
have to stop until we had daylight to show us
the trail," Bob had declared, much to the distress
of his companion; for Sandy was easily
influenced to extremes by either good or bad
fortune.</p>
<p>"We must go on just as far as we dare to-night,"
he said, stubbornly. "Every furlong
gained will count in the end. As for being tired,
I forget all that when I see mother's dear face
as she kissed us good-bye, and begged us not
to give up until we believed every hope gone."</p>
<p>So, for another half hour, they managed to
move along. Three torches had been consumed
thus far, and Sandy held only one more. It
would probably be sufficient, for human nature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
has its limit, and the boys could hardly expect
to keep up this killing pace all through the long
hours of that dreadful night.</p>
<p>Now and then Bob would stop for a brief time
to straighten up, and rest his cramped back.
At such times it was only natural for him to
stare ahead into the black depths of the woods
that confronted them, stretching away hundreds
of miles to the mysterious north, until
finally they ended on the shore of that inland
fresh water sea now known as Lake Erie, but
at that time going with the others under the
general name of the Great Lakes, though some
called it after the tribe living on its shore.</p>
<p>It was on one of these breathing halts that
Sandy, happening to send a glance back along
the hidden path they had come over, gave a low
cry, and gripped the arm of his brother convulsively,
as he exclaimed in a whisper:</p>
<p>"We are followed, Bob! I surely saw the
figure of an Indian flitting from tree to tree,
back there! Drop the torch and fall flat, before
an arrow comes!"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVI<br />
<small>THE BARK OF THE RED FOX</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Quick</span> to act in the presence of danger, Bob
instantly dashed the blazing torch to the
ground, and set his foot upon it. Then, in company
with his brother, he dropped flat to the
earth, as they had been taught to do by the Irish
trapper.</p>
<p>They half expected to hear the hiss of a
feathered shaft as it whizzed through the air
over them, and each boy gripped his musket
nervously, as he crouched there among the
bushes, waiting for he hardly knew what.</p>
<p>"Do you hear them coming?" whispered
Sandy.</p>
<p>"No," replied the other; "but we must not
stay here. They will try to surround us, and
cut us off from flight."</p>
<p>"But if we leave here we must lose the
trail," objected Sandy.</p>
<p>"True," replied his brother in the same
guarded tone; "but should we be captured or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
killed what then would become of poor little
Kate? Come!"</p>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 338px;">
<img src="images/i191.jpg" width="338" height="528" alt="Indian against moon" />
<div class="caption">"PLAINLY MARKED AGAINST THE FACE OF THE HARVEST MOON, THEY COULD SEE THE HEAD AND SHOULDERS OF AN INDIAN BRAVE!"</div>
</div>
<p>As usual, Sandy was ready to give in to the
better judgment of his older brother, and hence,
when Bob began to creep away, he kept as close
at his heels as possible.</p>
<p>Doubtless their hearts beat faster than usual
as the two lads thus moved over the ground.
They had not gone ten paces when again Sandy
drew the attention of the one in the lead to
something he had discovered.</p>
<p>"Look to the left!" he whispered, as he
poked at Bob's foot with the muzzle of his gun.</p>
<p>Turning his head, Bob saw a startling sight.</p>
<p>The late moon was just rising in the east. Because
of a dip in the ground, and also a thinning
out of the trees in that quarter, due to
some tornado that had made a slash in the
timbers, her blood-red disc could be seen just
above the horizon.</p>
<p>And there, plainly marked against the face
of the harvest moon, they could see the head
and shoulders of an Indian brave! So plain
did the picture appear that it was possible to
even distinguish the feather that stood up in
the hair of the red man.</p>
<p>"We must turn the other way," said Bob,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
as his brother crawled up alongside him, so that
their heads came close together.</p>
<p>"Wait!" whispered the other. "Somehow
that feather seems familiar to me."</p>
<p>"Do you mean it might be Blue Jacket?"
asked Bob, eagerly; for, to tell the truth, he
himself had had a similar idea flash through his
mind.</p>
<p>"Nothing more. See, he seems to be looking
around calmly, as though in no hurry to make
a hostile move. There, he has put his hand up
to his mouth. I believe he means to signal.
Yes, listen, there goes the bark of the red fox,
which you remember he always uses to tell us
he is near. It must be Blue Jacket!"</p>
<p>Bob, however, laid a hand on his reckless
brother.</p>
<p>"Let me try him first, Sandy," he said; and
immediately there broke out the singular grunting
sound which a hedgehog makes when turning
over the dead leaves looking for his food.</p>
<p>Immediately a low voice called out:</p>
<p>"Bob! Sandy!"</p>
<p>After that there could no longer be any doubt
as to the identity of the Indian whose head had
been so strangely outlined against the circle of
the moon. Gaining their feet, the two young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
pioneers directed the other to where they were
standing. And it was with considerable satisfaction
they thus made the discovery that it
was a friend instead of a foe whose coming had
alarmed them.</p>
<p>"Ugh!" said Blue Jacket, as he gripped a
hand of each, having learned this method of
greeting among the whites while an inmate of
the Armstrong cabin, recovering from his
wound. "Glad meet Bob, Sandy. Much wonder
who carry torch in woods. Think paleface
boy, no can be sure. What hunt so far away
settlement?"</p>
<p>"Kate has been stolen by four Seneca Indians,
and they are speeding as fast as they
can go toward their village away to the far
north!" Bob explained.</p>
<p>Had it been a white man he would have shown
more or less astonishment at this startling
news. Blue Jacket, being an Indian, and
schooled to repress his feelings on all occasions,
merely grunted, as he replied:</p>
<p>"Bad! Much hard get back. How know?"</p>
<p>Between them the two boys related how the
awful shock had come upon them while they
were about to return home after a successful
hunt. They also mentioned what the reader<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
already knows about Pat O'Mara being on the
trail in advance, determined to save the
daughter of his good friends.</p>
<p>"And you, Blue Jacket, will you not join
us?" asked Sandy.</p>
<p>The young Shawanee never hesitated an instant
to consider the matter.</p>
<p>"Me go where Bob, Sandy go. Never forget
him mother, what she do. Tell much more.
No can walk in woods till rest. Four Iroquois
say? Who?" he said, in the terse way that
was so much a part of his stoical nature.</p>
<p>"We believe that she was stolen by a young
Seneca chief known by the name of Black
Beaver among the settlers. Do you know him,
Blue Jacket?" asked Bob.</p>
<p>He felt the Shawanee start, which told him
that what he said must have given their red
friend a shock.</p>
<p>"Black Beaver sent down by Pontiac, visit
my people with war arrow. Tell that red men
all over north ready dig up hatchet, and go on
warpath. How Bob, Sandy see um?" he
asked.</p>
<p>"He and three of his braves came to our
settlement some time ago," returned the white
boy. "They created quite an excitement, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
it was believed that we were about to be attacked
by the enemy. But they held their
hands out, palms upward, in token of peace,
and said they were a long way from their
lodges, with their tobacco gone, and little ammunition
left with which to kill game. So we
gave them of both, and they pretended to go
their way, saying that they were the friends of
the white man."</p>
<p>"Yes," broke in Sandy just then; "but we
saw how the young chief looked hungrily at our
pretty little sister, Kate, and both of us worried,
for fear that some day he might return to
give us trouble. But we did not think it would
come so soon. He hung around until the chance
arrived; then the blow fell."</p>
<p>"Blue Jacket saw trail through the woods,"
continued the other, in his low musical voice;
"where four braves and a squaw be followed
by a paleface. He think something wrong.
Then night come, and he camp under tree. Just
at moonrise see dancing fire through woods.
Think Indians hunt deer with torch as much
do. Just get close, fire go. But Blue Jacket
know then it not Indian, but white boy. He
think of Bob, Sandy. Listen for while; then
give bark of red fox. Now know all."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
<p>"And you will stick to us through thick and
thin, Blue Jacket?" demanded Sandy.</p>
<p>The Shawanee brave once more thrust out
his dusky hand, and gravely took that of each
of the young pioneers in turn. They knew from
this that they might count on such assistance
as he could give them. Actions take the place
of words with an Indian; a look or a movement
counts for volumes.</p>
<p>All made their way back to the trail, so that
there would be no delay later on, when they
were ready to once more take up the pursuit of
the girl-stealers.</p>
<p>"How long must we lie idle here?" groaned
Sandy, when a full hour had passed by, without
any further action.</p>
<p>"Perhaps until morning," replied his
brother, "so you had better try and get some
sleep. We must be rested in order to carry
on the pursuit."</p>
<p>"But supposing they were not more than a
mile away from here," continued Sandy. "We
might come upon them in an hour, if only we
kept moving. It seems foolish to stop just because
we are a little tired."</p>
<p>Bob knew that the poor fellow was so stiff
he could hardly get up, once he lay upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
ground; but the spirit was willing, if the flesh
proved weak, and Sandy would have gone on if
he had to crawl.</p>
<p>"If they have halted they would not sleep
without a sentry," said Bob.</p>
<p>"That is true, I suppose," admitted the
other, grudgingly. "All Indians are careful
not to be taken by surprise. Yes, they would
be on their guard; but what of that, Bob?
Surely, with Blue Jacket to help us, we could
creep up close without any one being the
wiser."</p>
<p>"You forget," said Bob, "that we could
never follow the trail without a light; and those
sharp eyes of the sentry would discover our
torch long before we knew they were near.
Then we would be made a target for a
shower of bullets, and perhaps poisoned arrows."</p>
<p>Sandy was utterly disheartened. This sort
of argument seemed unanswerable. He just
gave a disgusted grunt, rolled over on the
ground, and not another word did he speak
during the entire balance of that long night.</p>
<p>Bob knew that sleep had finally overtaken his
brother, for he could hear his regular breathing
after a time. And he was glad of the fact, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
both, of them stood much in need of rest before
they would be in condition to take up the chase
once more.</p>
<p>Morning found them awake, and ready to
make a fresh start just as soon as the daylight
proved strong enough for the Indian to see the
trail. Bob was only too willing to turn over the
lead to Blue Jacket, knowing that, while he, himself,
might serve fairly well, he was not at all in
the same class as the trained young Shawanee,
accustomed to reading every tiny sign that
marked the tracks of the red fugitives.</p>
<p>Once again they chewed some of the dried
venison, washing the crude meat down with a
draught from a near-by brook. Refreshed
after their sleep, the two boys declared themselves
to be in good condition, and ready to
make a day of it, if need be.</p>
<p>More than once Bob noticed that the Indian
cast an apprehensive glance upward. Sandy,
too, saw this action, and took the first opportunity
to question his brother as to what it
might signify.</p>
<p>"Why does he turn his eyes up to the tops
of the trees every little while?" he said in an
aside to his brother, as the two of them trailed
after Blue Jacket.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
<p>"The sun rose red this morning, you may
have noticed?" replied Bob.</p>
<p>"Yes, that is true, for I saw it myself,"
Sandy went on.</p>
<p>"And that stands for rain, all woodsmen
believe."</p>
<p>Every rover of the big timber in those days
put the utmost faith in such signs. If they saw
the sun set in a sea of angry gold they would
make ready for bad weather, just as surely as
they believed the north lay close to the direction
where the moss grew heaviest on those forest
trees.</p>
<p>"But we have no fear of the rain," declared
Sandy, impatiently; "let it come, for
a wetting can't stop us from following Black
Beaver day in and day out till we overtake
him."</p>
<p>"Still, if the trail is washed out, how then
are we to follow?" asked Bob, with a frown on
his face.</p>
<p>"Oh! what a fool I was not to understand
what you meant," said the younger boy,
now looking up toward the heavens quite
as anxiously as their dusky guide had
done.</p>
<p>"We can only hope that it will keep off long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
enough to let us come up with the redskins,"
said Bob, thinking to buoy up his brother's
sinking spirits.</p>
<p>"Or that Pat O'Mara may be able to overtake
the thieves, and rescue our sister," Sandy
observed.</p>
<p>Then they fell into silence again, each busy
with his own painful thoughts. All the time
Blue Jacket was leading them on at a sort of
dog-trot. His eyes followed the trail in a manner
simply marvellous; and Bob again and
again felt a sense of delight because good fortune
had sent this red friend across their path
just when they needed assistance most.</p>
<p>Hours passed, and they had covered many
miles. Still, upon being questioned by the
nervous Sandy, the Shawanee brave could not
say that they were any nearer the little band
they sought than when they had started, that
morning.</p>
<p>How long this pursuit would keep up, who
could say? Day might follow day, without
their gaining any perceptible advantage. As
a last resort, of course, they could make direct
for the big water to the north, and seek the village
from which Black Beaver had come. But
that would mean disheartening delay, with accumulated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
difficulties about effecting the rescue
of their sister.</p>
<p>Nor was this day fated to entirely pass without
something occurring to thrill both young
pioneers, and prove once more the truth of Pat
O'Mara's words when he warned them of the
constant need of watchfulness when abroad in
the forest.</p>
<p>Blue Jacket in the advance was swiftly covering
the trail, for he had heard a distant growl
of thunder, and did not fancy what was coming.
With his head bowed in earnest examination of
the tracks left by those who had gone before,
he could hardly be expected to see what lay
ahead of him, leaving that for his comrades.</p>
<p>"Oh! Bob, look there!" Sandy suddenly
exclaimed, as he raised his musket; "a panther
just crouching to leap on our guide's shoulders.
Shoot him, quick!"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVII<br />
<small>PERILS OF THE WILDERNESS</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">No</span> shoot! no shoot!" cried Blue Jacket,
who seemed to size up the situation instantly;
though up to that time he had not even suspected
that he was about to be made the object
of a savage attack on the part of a panther.</p>
<p>Bob, too, understood the motive that influenced
the Shawanee brave to exclaim in this
way, as he jerked out his knife and threw himself
in an attitude of defence. Should a musket
be discharged, there was always a chance that
the report might be carried to the ears of the
Senecas, if they happened to be within a few
miles of the spot.</p>
<p>Few Indians used guns in those days, the
vast majority depending still upon the bows and
arrows of their race, backed by tomahawks and
knives, and sometimes war clubs in time of battle.
Hence, they might suspect that pursuers
were on their trail, should the boom of a heavily-loaded
musket be carried to their ears.</p>
<p>So Bob threw out his hand, and instantly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
covered the pan of his brother's gun, so that,
when the hammer fell, it caught his fingers, and
no spark followed. Bob winced under the sharp
pain; but he had accomplished his end, and
what mattered a trifling cut?</p>
<div class="figright" style="width: 335px;">
<img src="images/i205.jpg" width="335" height="543" alt="panther jumping down on Indian" />
<div class="caption">"THE BOYS SAW THE SHEEN OF HIS SATINY SIDES AS HE SPRANG"</div>
</div>
<p>But the panther had not waited all this time
to accommodate these intruders in his forest
preserves. The boys saw the sheen of his
satiny sides as he sprang.</p>
<p>"Oh! he missed!" gasped Sandy; but Bob
knew why this was so, for he had seen the agile
young Indian jump sideways just at the critical
instant, so that, while the aim of the big cat
may have been correct, he only alighted upon
the ground.</p>
<p>Blue Jacket never wavered, but instantly
threw himself upon the gray beast. His keen-pointed
knife was raised, and came down once,
twice, thrice in less than as many seconds. It
was no longer glinting in the sunlight, for after
that first descent the steel seemed to be dulled.</p>
<p>Both boys pushed forward, eager to get in a
blow that would be of some assistance to this
devoted red friend, who counted not his own
safety or comfort when a chance arose whereby
he could help his paleface comrades.</p>
<p>They had dropped their guns as useless, since<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
they could not be fired. Bob had drawn his
knife, while Sandy had a hatchet in his grip;
and both circled around, looking for an opening.</p>
<p>The Indian and the panther were revolving
so fast, however, that it seemed well nigh impossible
for any outsider to get in a blow, without
running grave chances of seriously injuring
the very one they wanted to assist.</p>
<p>And, while they thus made half-hearted
blows, fearful lest they strike their good ally,
Blue Jacket suddenly sprang aside, leaving the
animal struggling on the ground. In vain it
attempted to follow its human adversary. The
ready knife of the stalwart young Shawanee
had struck in too deeply, and already was the
panther feeling the throes of approaching death.</p>
<p>Even as the boys gazed, spellbound, the animal
stiffened out, after one last violent movement.
Blue Jacket was breathing very hard;
but upon his set face they could see the
look that comes to a victor in a well-fought
battle.</p>
<p>"Are you hurt much, Blue Jacket?" asked
Sandy, fearful lest those terrible claws might
have torn the young Shawanee.</p>
<p>The other glanced down at a few places where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
the blood had commenced to show, as marking
the scratches he had received; then he shook
his head scornfully.</p>
<p>"Not much hurt," he announced. "Panther
hard kill—fight back—take many times
finish," and he opened the fingers of both
hands to illustrate how many strokes he had
made with that knife before he felt that he had
accomplished his purpose.</p>
<p>"But why didn't you let me shoot him?"
demanded Sandy, as though feeling hurt, because
at that short distance he knew one shot
would have surely finished the "woods terror,"
as such beasts were known at the time.</p>
<p>"Make noise—tell Iroquois we here—no
good, see, Sandy?" was the way Blue Jacket
put it; and Sandy immediately realized how
great a sacrifice the other had just made in order
to keep their presence on the trail unknown
to those they hunted.</p>
<p>He looked at his brother, and drew a long
breath.</p>
<p>"Where could we have found a better friend,
Bob?" he said, earnestly.</p>
<p>"We must have looked a long way, Sandy,"
returned the other. "But let me put a little
salve my mother made on those cuts, Blue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
Jacket. There is poison in the claws of a tiger
cat, and you may have a bad time, unless we
look out for it."</p>
<p>"Ugh!" grunted the Indian, even while he
allowed Bob to do as he wished. "Much
papoose, warriors think. No care 'bout hurt.
Get well, bimeby. Blue Jacket come 'cross
medicine grass soon, chew and put on cut, good.
If white squaw make, then try. Ugh!"</p>
<p>Anything Mrs. Armstrong did was all right
in the eyes of the young Shawanee brave. He
had watched her, and learned to respect the
gentle woman who ruled the Armstrong cabin
with a sceptre of love.</p>
<p>Leaving the dead panther where it had fallen,
the three pressed onward again. If, during the
balance of that weary day, the limbs of Blue
Jacket ached, no one ever knew it, for not a
single complaint or groan passed his lips. Bob
realized that he in all probability suffered, for
some of the scratches had been pretty deep; but
he also understood the singular nature of Indians,
and how it was considered childish to
show any evidence of pain.</p>
<p>Night came on, and they were forced to halt,
with those they hunted still far ahead. How
the Iroquois managed to travel so far and so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
fast puzzled both boys, especially since they
knew that Kate could not have possibly kept
up under that fierce strain.</p>
<p>Blue Jacket told them that there were occasions
when the footprints of the girl utterly
vanished for a mile or more. At such times he
would even point out which of the four Indians
must be carrying her, because the indentation
of his moccasins showed deeper than those of
his companions.</p>
<p>And the boys were astonished at the simplicity
of this reading of signs. Every hour they
found something new to marvel over in connection
with the work of their dusky friend. He
pointed out twigs that had been bent and
righted; to leaves that had been displaced by
the feet of the fugitives; and by such means
easily figured just how long a time had elapsed
since the others had passed.</p>
<p>They started again at daybreak and, all the
morning, followed the trail of the Iroquois.</p>
<p>The storm, that had threatened on the previous
day and then passed by without a single
drop falling, now came back for a second attempt.
And this time they were not fated to
escape.</p>
<p>"We are in for it," said Bob, when about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
noon the crash of thunder sounded close at
hand, accompanied by vivid lightning.</p>
<p>"Yes," declared Sandy, making a rueful
face, "I think I can hear the rain beating down
in the treetops even now, over there. What a
pity, when we were gradually overtaking the
red thieves. Oh! what if we lose them, and
have nothing left to follow? What can we do
then, Bob?"</p>
<p>"Just what I said before," replied his
brother, between his set teeth, as still another
crash of thunder made the woods echo with its
roll. "We have only one plan to follow, then.
Blue Jacket is of the same opinion; for I talked
it over with him this morning. We must push
straight on for the Great Lakes, and try to waylay
the party before they reach their village."</p>
<p>"A desperate chance," groaned Sandy.</p>
<p>"But we said we would never give up until
the last gasp, Sandy. You forget, too, that we
have a good and wise friend at work for us,"
Bob went on, cheerfully.</p>
<p>"You mean Pat O'Mara?" replied the other,
quickly. "Yes, I did forget. I am too apt to
be hasty, I fear. Oh! I do hope he may be able
to snatch Kate from the power of the young
chief, Black Beaver. But why should he have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
stolen her at all? Kate is only a child, too
young for any one to want to have for a squaw."</p>
<p>"I have been thinking about something Blue
Jacket told me," said Bob.</p>
<p>"Then please let me know, too, for I am all
in a mix," pleaded his brother.</p>
<p>"He said that he knew Black Beaver had only
a short time ago lost a little sister by some disease.
He told me that the old squaw, his
mother, sat day by day out where the child was
laid away, after the custom of the Indians, the
body being sewed up in many thicknesses of
buffalo skins, and placed on a platform, where
the wolves could not reach her."</p>
<p>"Yes, I saw an Indian graveyard when I was
a prisoner among the Shawanees, and it was
just as you say," declared Sandy, eagerly. "I
know that daily the squaws come to talk with
the spirits of those who are gone. I saw them
placing earthen bowls of succotash on the
ground, believing that the steam that arose was
spirit food, since it vanished, and no one knew
where it went." (<a id="Note_5b"></a><a href="#Note_5">Note 5.</a>)</p>
<p>"Blue Jacket said that Black Beaver cared
much more for his sister than most Indians
do," Bob continued, between the angry growlings
of the thunder; "and that he feared the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
old squaw would lose her mind if she kept on
mourning. Now, you remember how he looked
at our sister Kate when he came in for a supply
of tobacco and maize? I really believe he had
a sudden idea flash into his mind when he saw
how pretty she was."</p>
<p>"Now I understand what you mean," cried
Sandy, excitedly. "He believed that our Kate
might take the place of the sister that was dead!
They would color her skin, and teach her to forget
that her people were the hated palefaces.
Bob, I believe you are right; and somehow the
thought gives me much comfort, for then our
little Kate will not suffer harm at the hands of
Black Beaver and those with him."</p>
<p>There was no time for further conversation,
for the storm now rushed down upon them with
terrific violence. With the howling wind,
the flash of lightning, and the crash of thunder
came a tremendous downpour of rain. It was
possibly the breaking up of summer, and might
be followed shortly by frost, such are the rapid
changes that mark the meeting of the seasons.</p>
<p>They had found a means for sheltering themselves
from the worst of the storm. A hollow
tree might have answered fully as well; but,
with those frequent zigzag flashes of the deadly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
electric fluid, none of them felt like taking such
desperate chances, especially when a cleft in
some rocks opened an avenue of escape.</p>
<p>Here they cowered and waited as the storm
rolled over. Bob knew of course that such a
thing as trailing the Senecas after this was entirely
out of the question; and that the only
thing remaining to them was to strike out north,
in the hope of finding the village to which Black
Beaver belonged, and intercepting the party.</p>
<p>That would mean the placing of some hundreds
of miles between themselves and the
dearly-beloved cabin on the Ohio, where that
little mother waited in daily hope and expectation
of their return, with the lost Kate; but,
for themselves these brave boys gave little
thought. They were ready to face every species
of peril in the endeavor to rescue their sister.</p>
<p>When the wind had ceased to howl, and only
the mutter of the retreating thunder in the distance
told that the storm was over, they came
forth, grim and determined-looking, all three.</p>
<p>Sandy tightened his belt; and there even was
something suggestive of what was in his mind
about that little action. It looked as though he
were preparing for the tremendous tramp that
loomed up ahead, when they must cross rivers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
thread their way through tangled forests where
few if any of their kind had ever before
stepped; and face all manner of dangers by
day and by night.</p>
<p>Blue Jacket never even asked what they
would have him do; for he already knew the
plan of campaign. Deliberately he turned, until
the western sun, shining out from the broken
clouds like a ball of gold, was exactly on his
left. Then he started to swiftly walk away.</p>
<p>No longer did the young brave look down
upon the ground as he moved along. There
existed no need for such a thing, since the trail
had been utterly washed out by that deluge of
rain. Henceforth the trackless wilderness lay
before them, and at the other end they hoped
to find the village in which Black Beaver had
his wigwam.</p>
<p>Even upon the face of Sandy had come a grim
look that seemed out of place in the features of
a half-grown lad; but in those pioneer days
responsibility set its mark early on the growing
generation, and even a lad of fifteen could
shoulder the cares and burdens of manhood.</p>
<p>Days would come, and days would pass, and
night must follow night. Sometimes sun and
stars would beckon them onward; again perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
storms would buffet these bold adventurers;
but through it all they would push
resolutely onward, with but that one impulse
urging them on, the rescue of Kate.</p>
<p>What the near future held for them no mortal
could say; but, no matter what lay beyond, Bob
and Sandy would press on toward the goal,
though they had to face the whole of the Six
Nations, or the confederated tribes Pontiac had
bound together in his wild hope for a general
Indian war.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVIII<br />
<small>THE BIG WATER AT LAST</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Will</span> we ever get there, do you think,
Bob?"</p>
<p>Sandy Armstrong asked this question for
the tenth time one day, as the trio of young
adventurers rested at noon, after tramping
since early dawn.</p>
<p>They had persisted in heading into the north
ever since the day of the storm. Weary days
and nights they had been. Sandy, being less
resolute than his older brother, had fretted
under the strain, and kept asking whether they
must not be near the end of their pilgrimage.</p>
<p>They had met many trials on the way.
Rivers they had swam, holding their guns and
ammunition, as well as their garments, on a log
so as to keep them dry, which trick was in frequent
use among the pioneers of the day.</p>
<p>It was the duty of Bob to constantly
strengthen his brother; and thus he even
smiled, a bit sadly it may be true, as he turned
upon Sandy.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
<p>"Blue Jacket knows; and he tells me that
he can smell the big water in the air right now,"
he observed.</p>
<p>"You mean the Great Lake, on the shore of
which, somewhere, the Iroquois have their village—is
that it?" demanded Sandy, brightening
up wonderfully.</p>
<p>"Yes, and he also tells me that we are apt to
come out upon it before the sun goes down to-night,"
Bob continued, encouragingly.</p>
<p>"Well," said Sandy, heaving a big sigh, "I
shall be glad if it turns out to be so. I am so
tired of waiting, day after day, and plunging
into constant forests. If it wasn't for Kate's
peril I could enjoy this journey, for you know
I always said I meant to follow in the footsteps
of Kenton, and look on new sights; but, as it
is, I can think of nothing but these three things
that trouble us."</p>
<p>"Three?" remarked Bob, as if surprised.</p>
<p>"Why, yes. There is Kate, to begin with,"
Sandy started to say.</p>
<p>"And you are also thinking of our mother,
should the dreaded Indian attack come when we
are away?" Bob pursued.</p>
<p>"Surely. There were many ugly signs of it.
But, when I remember how our neighbor, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
Brewster, gave us his word that he would take
her into his own family while we were gone, and
look after her as if she belonged under his cabin
roof, somehow I do not feel quite so bad."</p>
<p>"But you said three, and that is only two
causes," Bob went on. "Are you still thinking
about father, Sandy?"</p>
<p>"Surely," the younger brother answered
back. "The more we plunge into this unbroken
wilderness the greater become my fears for
him. There were only four in the party. If the
Indians ever discovered their trail, they would
follow them like hungry wolves. Day and night
they might hang about, seeking opportunities
to ambush them. Oh! why did not Colonel
Boone, or Simon Kenton, happen along at the
time they were starting?"</p>
<p>"Cheer up!" cried Bob, slapping his brother
on the shoulder encouragingly. "We shall be
happy yet, and all together again, separated
as we may be now. Our first duty is to find
Kate, and steal her away from our enemies.
Then, when we get home, we will only have to
wait for our father to return, after the snow
flies. I only hope he is able to cross those terrible
mountains before the ravines are filled,
neck high, with the drifts."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>
<p>"But," said Sandy, suddenly, as if he suspected
that these signs of despondency might
be wrongly interpreted by his companion, "I
hope you do not think I am weakening, Bob?"</p>
<p>"Not I," returned the older one, instantly.
"By this time I ought to know your obstinate
nature better than that, Sandy. You may complain,
and seem downhearted at times; but
there is no give up about you."</p>
<p>"That is true," nodded Sandy, as he set his
teeth hard together. "We started out to rescue
our sister from the hands of the Indians;
and that we will do, if we live. But, Bob, have
we not rested enough? I am just wild to set
eyes on that wonderful inland sea about which
Pat O'Mara and Simon Kenton have told us so
much."</p>
<p>"Yes, we will go on," said Bob, quickly
rising to his feet; and then, as Blue Jacket
drew near, he asked further: "About how
many hours' journey before we come upon the
big water, Blue Jacket?"</p>
<p>Whereupon the young Shawanee brave deliberated
a minute, after which he gravely held
up two fingers of his right hand.</p>
<p>"Soon get there, Bob, Sandy," he said,
quietly. "No can smell big water further two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
hours' walk. You wait, see Blue Jacket speak
with straight tongue."</p>
<p>"And he ought to know, Sandy," continued
Bob; "because, you see, Blue Jacket has once
before looked on the big water which some men
call Erie. Only a short two hours; that will
soon pass. Come, let us put out our best foot
now."</p>
<p>Once again they plunged into the thickets
ahead, always with the Indian guide in the van.
Blue Jacket had indeed proven a friend. Not
only had he led them in almost direct line to
the north, and managed to avoid contact with
any roving band of Indians; but at the same
time he had helped supply the little rescue party
with fresh meat.</p>
<p>It happened that at the time he met the two
young pioneers the brave carried his customary
bow and arrows. Few of his race equalled Blue
Jacket in the use of this old-time Indian
weapon. He could send a feathered shaft with
wonderful accuracy, whether aimed at a human
foe or a wild animal of the forest.</p>
<p>Debarred from using their noisy guns on
account of the dangers that an explosion might
bring upon them, the boys would have suffered
from lack of fresh food but for the dexterity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
with which their dusky ally used his hickory
bow, with its flint-tipped arrows, feathered
with quills from the wild goose.</p>
<p>Once he brought down a bounding deer that
seemed in a fair way to escape, much to the admiration
of both white lads, who had never before
witnessed such an exhibition of fine shooting.</p>
<p>On another occasion he had discovered
several wild turkeys roosting on the branch of
a big pine tree on a knoll, and, after considerable
creeping, managed to get close enough, on
the leeward side of the wary birds, to bring a
haughty gobbler to the ground, pierced through
and through with an arrow, so that they feasted
that night right royally.</p>
<p>Then Blue Jacket also knew just how to build
a fire with very dry wood that might not give
forth any smoke, such as keen and suspicious
eyes would discover. It was always started in
a cleft, or a hole in the ground, nor did they
ever keep it going after night set in.</p>
<p>All these precautions were absolutely necessary,
for they were in a hostile country, where
every human being must be considered an
enemy, whether he might be a red man or a
French Canadian trapper.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
<p>The summer was now gone. Touches of frost
appeared each morning, now that the pilgrims
of the great forest ascended continually further
north. But they were young, hardy and vigorous,
so that little they cared for this. The
thought of the mission that drew them thus far
away from their Ohio River home proved sufficient
to make their pulses throb, and all minor
troubles be ignored.</p>
<p>An hour passed. Blue Jacket plodded on,
showing not the faintest sign of weariness. Indeed,
it seemed to Sandy that the young Shawanee
brave must be made of iron to be able to
stand up under all they had passed through
without exhibiting the least symptom of
fatigue.</p>
<p>Even the brothers by now seemed to feel a
peculiar dampness to the air, that in a way betrayed
the near presence of a large body of
water.</p>
<p>"At any time, Sandy, you can expect to set
eyes on the Great Lake," remarked Bob, while
they were pushing through an unusually dense
patch of woods, where the close growing trees
ahead shut out all sign of what lay beyond.</p>
<p>Blue Jacket heard, and gave him a nod that
seemed to tell Bob they might have their first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
view of that wonderful inland sea before many
minutes passed.</p>
<p>A short time later they came upon the verge
of the forest. All at once a vacancy appeared
beyond, a vast open expanse, and Bob had himself
caught a musical ripple that he knew must
proceed from waves gently rolling up the beach.</p>
<p>The Great Lake was before them, and, standing
thus among the bordering trees, the three
gazed wonderingly out upon that mighty expanse.</p>
<p>Although they had lived for a number of
years in Richmond, both Bob and Sandy had
only a hazy recollection of ever having seen the
vast ocean so close by; so that this, their first
introduction to what seemed a boundless expanse
of water, was startling.</p>
<p>As far as their eyes could reach nothing but
a level horizon seemed to exist, where the water
met the lowering sky line. To the east and west
the same monotonous view was presented. To-day,
where dark smoke from the funnels of
countless busy steamers may greet the eye of
the onlooker, there was at that time absolutely
nothing, not even a canoe, at first appearing to
the sight of the three youths.</p>
<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Sandy, his breast heaving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
with the sensation of a rover who delights in
new and novel sights, "it is glorious, Bob! If
I could only forget about Kate for a minute,
I'd say it was well worth all our trials and suffering.
One of my dreams has come true, and
some day I am determined that the other will,
too."</p>
<p>"Yes," replied his brother, soberly; "I
know that you are fairly wild to set eyes on
that wonderful river De Soto discovered, and
which they call the Mississippi. Perhaps some
day you may have your wish, Sandy; but pray
Heaven that no such mission takes you to its
shores as has fetched us hither."</p>
<p>"That could never be," replied Sandy. "If
we are blessed with the recovery of our dear
sister this time, she will never again be allowed
to leave the sight of those who can and will
protect her. But, see, Blue Jacket has noticed
something. He moves back into the woods, and
beckons to us to do the same. What can it be,
do you suppose, Bob?"</p>
<p>"He seems to be watching the point of land
that stands out into the water," said Bob. "It
has trees on it; but there are open spaces, too.
Blue Jacket must have discovered something
moving there."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
<p>"Perhaps it is a deer, and he means to get a
shot with his bow and arrows?" suggested the
younger brother.</p>
<p>"Not so, for he is not handling his bow,"
remarked Bob; and immediately added:
"There! I saw it move myself; and, Sandy,
unless I was mistaken, it must have been a
canoe gliding along the other side of the tongue
of land, heading outward."</p>
<p>Both lads immediately stepped further back
among the trees. They understood that the
chances were ten to one, at least, that, if they
came upon any human being along the shore
of the Great Lake, it must be an Indian, and
therefore one to be distrusted on sight.</p>
<p>Though the Iroquois, or Six Nations, had always
been friendly with the English, and opposed
to the French Canadian trappers and
traders, still, the new conditions that were beginning
to arise, where the Colonies had begun
to defy the king, made them separate the sheep
from the goats. They favored the Tories, who
remained in league with the king's policies;
but were ready to take up arms against the
insurgents, already beginning to call themselves
Americans.</p>
<p>Three minutes later a canoe darted out from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
behind the point of land, and started along the
lake, about a quarter of a mile from the shore.</p>
<p>"Oh! look!" said Sandy, who had the
keener eyesight; "there are just five in it,
Bob, and one of them is a girl!"</p>
<p>"Yes," replied the other, whose lips were
colorless as he gazed eagerly at the moving
craft, where several flashing paddles were working
industriously; "just the same number as
Black Beaver's band. But, Sandy, we do not
know. To me it looks as if the girl might be a
squaw. She is surely dressed like one, and, as
well as I can see, her face seems to be that of
an Indian."</p>
<p>"Oh! but you forget, Bob," declared the
other lad, earnestly, "that we believe Black
Beaver means to make our sister into a Seneca
girl. Four braves and a girl—it must be those
we seek!"</p>
<p>"Even Blue Jacket is puzzled, if I read his
face rightly," said Bob. "And so all we can do
is to try and keep up with the canoe until it
comes ashore. Then we will soon learn the
truth. I only pray that what you think may
turn out to be so, for it would make our mission
the easier."</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIX<br />
<small>A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">They</span> must land soon," said Sandy, when
they had been trying to keep up with the canoe
for a long time, though without brilliant success,
for it was far ahead of the three scouts,
possibly a couple of miles.</p>
<p>"Yes," Bob made answer; "for the day is
near an end, and they will wish to camp. There,
see, they have at last headed toward the shore.
We must make sure to note where the boat
lands, so that we can take up the trail if they
plunge into the forest."</p>
<p>A short time later and they had seen the canoe
pushed up on the sandy beach. After the customary
manner of the red men, it was immediately
picked up and carried away, doubtless to
be secreted among the bushes, either until morning
or until some future occasion when its services
would be needed.</p>
<p>"Now what is our next move?" asked
Sandy.</p>
<p>"Keep straight along until we are within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
striking distance of the spot. But let us seek
advice from Blue Jacket. He will know what is
best," was Bob's answer.</p>
<p>To their surprise the Shawanee brave decided
that it would be just as well for them to
remain where they were, and rest an hour or
more. When darkness had fallen they could
step out on the open beach, and make as good
time as though they struggled along all the
while through the dense underbrush of the
woods.</p>
<p>So they lay down and waited, meanwhile
munching a little food in order to sustain them
through whatever might befall them that
night.</p>
<p>Finally Blue Jacket arose, and spoke a few
low words. Both brothers were immediately on
their feet, eager to be moving. And, after their
days of fighting with the rough country over
which their long journey had taken them, it was
certainly something of a relief to be able to
stride over the sandy stretch of beach.</p>
<p>Presently Sandy uttered a low cry:</p>
<p>"A canoe! Why cannot we use that?"</p>
<p>Bob did not reply, but looked questioning at
Blue Jacket. The Indian nodded, and soon the
three had entered a long canoe that rested on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
the beach and contained two broad paddles.
The two boys took the paddles, and presently
the craft was moving silently and swiftly over
the placid waters of Lake Erie.</p>
<p>"Not too far from shore. No can see other
canoe if go too far," cautioned the Indian.</p>
<p>He stood in the bow of the canoe, his eyes on
the alert for the first sign of the other craft.
Thus over a mile was covered when the Indian
gave a sign to turn back to the beach.</p>
<p>Just as the Shawanee had promised, they arrived
in the neighborhood of the landing place
of the canoe about as soon as if they had kept
diligently pushing forward through the forest,
with its various pitfalls, ravines and thickets.</p>
<p>Bob was eagerly waiting for the verdict which
he knew must soon fall from the lips of Blue
Jacket. He saw the young Indian craning his
neck in order to take in all the surroundings,
although his attention was of course directed
more toward the depths of the woods than out
upon the heaving lake.</p>
<p>Then Blue Jacket's hand fell upon the arm of
Bob.</p>
<p>"Ugh! look, it is well! They camp!" he
grunted.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
<p>And Bob, following the line of the other's extended
arm, saw the glimmer of a fire almost
hidden in the dense forest.</p>
<p>"We shall soon know now, Sandy," he observed,
cheerfully. "Blue Jacket means to
creep forward, and get close enough to the
camp to learn whether these are they we have
sought, or if we have to go on further."</p>
<p>"But he has already told us he could see
that the braves were Senecas, from the feathers
in their scalplocks, and their manner of dress?"
declared Sandy.</p>
<p>"That is true," Bob replied, softly; "but
let us drop down here, and wait for him to return.
He cannot be long."</p>
<p>The Shawanee glided away as silently as a
shadow, leaving Bob and Sandy at the point
where a clump of silver birches would guide
him again to their hiding place.</p>
<p>"What if he comes to tell us it is Our
Kate?" demanded the younger brother.</p>
<p>"Then we can have but one duty, and that
is to wrest her away from those who would try
to hold her," came the steady reply.</p>
<p>"They will resist," remarked Sandy.</p>
<p>"It will not be well for them if they do,"
said his companion, with that stern look upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
his face, as seen in the starlight, that always
reminded Sandy of their father.</p>
<p>The minutes fairly dragged along. Sandy
tried to count so as to have something to occupy
his mind and keep him quiet; but he found it
impossible to keep from thinking of that dear
little sister whom they had come so far to save.</p>
<p>Then, without the slightest warning, Blue
Jacket stood beside them, grave, and with folded
arms. Bob guessed the truth instantly from
the manner of their red ally, for, had the other
any good news to declare, he must have shown
it. Sandy was not so ready a reader of human
nature, and immediately exclaimed in a whisper:</p>
<p>"What success did you have, Blue Jacket?
Is it our sister, and those braves the Senecas
who stole her away from our mother's cabin?"</p>
<p>"No Black Beaver, no paleface girl. Seneca
braves, and young squaw, that all!" replied
the spy, stolidly.</p>
<p>Of course the sanguine Sandy was terribly
disappointed; so much so that he allowed a
groan to break from his lips. After which once
more his resolution took a firm grip upon him.</p>
<p>"Then we must forget all about this, and
push on to find the village where Black Beaver,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
the thief, has his lodge. It keeps getting harder
and harder; but nothing is going to stop us, is
it, Bob?" he declared, grimly.</p>
<p>"Nothing!" echoed the older brother, as he
pressed Sandy's hand.</p>
<p>They lay down, almost exhausted, and sought
to secure the rest of which they were so sorely
in need. With the coming of another day they
watched until the little party once more
launched their canoe, and started paddling off
toward the east.</p>
<p>To Bob this was a mere incident that interested
him but little. Blue Jacket on the other
hand saw a deep significance in the move. He
knew it very probably indicated that the village
to which these Indians belonged was located
somewhere toward the east, or they would
hardly be going in the direction of the rising
sun, and that was a most important point for
them to know, now that the big water blocked
their further travel to the north.</p>
<p>Through the entire day they moved steadily
along, at first in the canoe they had found, and
then, abandoning the canoe, they continued on
foot. But conditions had commenced to assume
a different aspect. Three separate times
during this day Blue Jacket's amazing power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
of observation, or intuition, had saved them
from running into danger. The woods seemed
to be full of parties of Indians, either hunting,
or heading toward some central point, where
possibly they expected to hold a grand powwow
or "palaver," as a council was called by the
bordermen.</p>
<p>Upon questioning Blue Jacket, after they had
hidden themselves, and watched fully a dozen
blanketed figures pass in Indian file, silent
and mysterious, Bob was not much surprised
to learn that it was the opinion of their red
guide that these warriors could not be out on a
hunt, else they would never have kept together
in the way they did.</p>
<p>Other signs, which the quick eye of the
Shawanee could catch, told him that it was no
foray in search of fresh meat that took these
dusky sons of the forest abroad.</p>
<p>"Pottawottomies," Blue Jacket had muttered.
"Come from setting sun, up by other
big water, Detroit way. Something doing, Bob,
Sandy. No travel so far not so. Mebbe we
learn same soon. Much war drum sound. Heap
trouble for paleface settlers along Ohio.
Ugh!"</p>
<p>"He says those Indians were Pottawottomies,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
Bob," whispered Sandy. "I wonder now
if that firebrand, Pontiac, is up in this region?
Perhaps we may even set eyes on him before
we start for home."</p>
<p>"Well, as for me," remarked his brother,
"I'd take little pleasure in doing that; for he
has an evil name among the settlements. Many
border posts have gone up in flame and smoke
because of Pontiac, and the renegades that
follow him, warring upon their kind. According
to my mind it would be a blessed day for
pioneers everywhere if a bullet could be sent to
lay the monster low."</p>
<p>Little did either of them suspect, while thus
talking, how soon they were to be granted a
most wonderful opportunity for seeing the
notorious sachem, whose name had for years
thrilled the hearts of a multitude of mothers,
as they sheltered their children in their arms,
and listened to the sounds of the mysterious
forest, peopled with cruel and crafty
red foes.</p>
<p>All through this day the three continued to
head toward the land where the terrible waters
fell from the lofty rocks with a roar that was
deafening. To the superstitious Indians, Niagara's
mighty and unceasing clamor was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
voice of the Great Spirit. Their medicine men
claimed to be able to interpret what messages
were being sent from the Happy Hunting
Grounds for the guidance of the Great Spirit's
favorite children with the redskins. And for
centuries, doubtless, had the cataract also been
the scene of sacrifices, when beautiful maidens
were sent over its brink to appease an angry
Manitou.</p>
<p>"Why, the woods are full of them," said
Sandy, when, just before dusk, they were again
compelled to hide in order to let a file of solemn
warriors pass by.</p>
<p>Bob was more than uneasy. He saw readily
enough that, if what Blue Jacket suspected
turned out to be the truth, and that a grand
council was about to be held at which representatives
of many tribes would appear, it made
their mission all the more difficult of accomplishment.</p>
<p>Even though they succeeded in rescuing little
Kate, once the alarm was given how could they
ever expect to elude the scores upon scores of
painted savages with whom the woods would
quickly be filled?</p>
<p>"Perhaps it may mean more delay for us,
Sandy," he had said.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
<p>"You make me groan when you say that,
Bob," the other had replied.</p>
<p>"Our only hope," Bob pursued, firmly,
"must be to make a successful flight when we
have swooped down on the wigwam of Black
Beaver, and snatched our sister from the possession
of the Iroquois. And, while the forest
is fairly alive with enemies, what chance would
we have for getting clear?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I know you must be right, Bob, just
as you always are," Sandy muttered. "But
how can we ever stand it?"</p>
<p>"Hist! Blue Jacket is holding up a warning
finger again. He must smell more of the Indians
coming somewhere. Lie down, Sandy,
and don't even whisper till he gives the
word."</p>
<p>Long before now Sandy had declared that it
was his positive belief that their dusky guide
must be able to scent the presence of Indians,
because he always gave them warning so far in
advance of the actual appearance of the
prowlers; but Bob knew that it was from his
wonderful sense of hearing that Blue Jacket
thus forestalled the appearance of the Indians
on their dog-trot journey; that he could catch
the faintest sound, just as the long-eared rabbit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
might, or the timid mink that they sought to
trap for his valuable pelt.</p>
<p>Once more they were moving now, and it
seemed to Bob that Blue Jacket must have some
definite object ahead, for otherwise he certainly
would not persist in pushing onward after the
shades of night had fallen.</p>
<p>Presently he came to a stop. They were under
a mighty oak tree, one of the widest spreading
Bob had ever set eyes on. He saw Blue
Jacket looking upward eagerly, as though interested
in those great gnarled limbs that
seemed to shut out the very stars of the
heavens.</p>
<p>"Climb far up, Bob, Sandy," breathed the
voice of the red guide, as he himself started to
set the example.</p>
<p>Wonderingly the two brothers obeyed.
Neither of them could just then give the slightest
guess as to why Blue Jacket wished them
to climb the tree. Even though the woods did
seem to be full of moving red men, and the risk
of discovery constant, it would appear that they
might have readily found some dense thicket
into which they could have crawled, and thus
remain undiscovered by the enemy.</p>
<p>But, by this time, both of the young pioneers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
had come to understand that Blue Jacket never
made a move without a good reason; and Bob,
in particular, felt positive that presently they
would learn the meaning of this queer action.</p>
<p>Not until he had mounted far into the dense
branches of the great oak did the young Shawanee
brave halt.</p>
<p>"Now, sit like rock—no move—see soon
what happen!" whispered the red guide, as
they came to a halt.</p>
<p>A short time passed away. Bob was listening
intently. Dimly a suspicion as to the truth was
beginning to filter through his brain. He wished
to verify it, and it was for this reason that he
strained his ears to the limit.</p>
<p>Then from underneath something came to
him. Sandy, too, must have heard it, for his
lips sought the ear of his brother, and he whispered
as softly as the sigh of the night breeze
through the topmost branches of the great oak:</p>
<p>"Indians below!"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XX<br />
<small>PONTIAC IN THE COUNCIL</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Knowing</span> the folly of trying to enter into any
sort of talk at such a time, Bob only pinched
the arm of his more reckless brother. And
Sandy understood what that signified; he was
to say not another word.</p>
<p>Other sounds reached them. Bob caught the
well-known click of flint and steel, and knew
that a fire was about to be started. Presently
sparks flashed and then the tinder caught, so
that a little flame darted up.</p>
<p>As this was carefully fed by a practised hand
it grew in volume, until the darkness that had
rested under the thick branches of the great oak
began to be dissipated.</p>
<p>By degrees Bob could make out the figures of
several Indians. He stared as if unable to believe
his eyes, for every one of them seemed to
have vied with the others in assuming a grotesque
dress. Several wore horns, and all of
them had their faces hidden behind masks, usually
the heads of some animal.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
<p>The first represented a wolf, one of those
gaunt timber pirates that could easily pull a
stag to earth; another had on a buffalo head;
while a third seemed to represent a panther.
Their garments were elaborately fashioned, and
their persons decked with all manner of tinkling
bits of metal, and colored porcupine quills. Not
a movement did they make after once throwing
off their reserve but that Bob was reminded of
a necromancer he had once seen a very long
time ago, in a playhouse in Richmond, to which
his father took him at Christmas time.</p>
<p>He knew what these strange personages were
as soon as his eyes beheld their remarkable attire
and actions. Up to now Bob had never
really set eyes on a real medicine man, though
Sandy claimed to have done so at the time he
was a prisoner in the Shawanee village.</p>
<p>But why half a dozen of them; and what sort
of business had brought them here to this tree,
that must be a land mark in the neighborhood?
Did Blue Jacket know? He claimed to have
been in this vicinity before; then perhaps he
was acquainted with the very tree, in the
branches of which they perched at that minute.</p>
<p>Still watching, Bob saw that the queer men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
below were carrying on in a strange way as they
fed the flames, and kept building up the fire.
They went through all manner of gestures, flinging
their arms wildly aloft, dancing as they
circled the flames, throwing some sort of powder
into the fire that for the moment cast a blood
red and terrible glow upon everything around;
and anon even taking hold of hands to engage
in a wild orgy around the blaze.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 429px;">
<img src="images/i243.jpg" width="429" height="328" alt="dancing with firelight in background" />
<div class="caption">"DANCING AS THEY CIRCLED THE FLAMES"</div>
</div>
<p>By slow degrees he began to realize that these
seven medicine men must belong to just as many
different tribes. It was as though they had
been sent here ahead in order to start the
sacred fire at which, later on, the heads of those
same clans would gather in solemn conclave!</p>
<p>Did it mean that the idle wish of Sandy was
to be thus quickly fulfilled? Had Blue Jacket
in some way heard what was said, or guessed
it; and was he now bent on giving them a
chance to hear the coming council, when representatives
of many nations would come to meet
those of the Iroquois, and try to wean them
away from their allegiance to the English?</p>
<p>The thought thrilled the young pioneer. He
did not know whether to be glad or fearful because
it was so. It would, of course, be a wonderful
thing for them to see this council which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
must go down in history; to perhaps look upon
the great Pontiac, as well as the head chiefs
connected with many powerful tribes, such as
the Sacs, the Foxes, the Senecas, the Onondagas,
the Mohawks and the war-like Delawares.
But what if, through some little misfortune,
they were discovered?</p>
<p>While Bob was giving way to these thoughts
he saw that the queer dance below had come to
an end. The strangely garbed medicine men
vanished from view, and other Indians began
to troop in to gather about the fire.</p>
<p>By dozens and scores they came from every
quarter. Bob could hardly believe he was not
dreaming, for the great space below began to
be fairly packed with Indians. Some stalked
around in their skin blankets, while others were
naked down to the waist.</p>
<p>These latter were the wild Ojibways, with
quivers slung at their backs, and light war clubs
resting in the hollow of their arms. There were
Ottawas wrapped close in gaudy blankets, and
Wyandots fluttering in painted shirts, their
heads adorned with colored feathers, and their
leggins garnished with shining metal discs that
often chimed like silver bells.</p>
<p>He knew that he was undoubtedly looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
upon the most noted chiefs west of the mountains.
Some of these must be men who had led
in the wars of the last few years, where scores
and hundreds of lives had been lost.</p>
<p>Afterwards he learned from Blue Jacket that
the Shawanee sachem Silver Heels was present,
as well as Sagan the Cuyuga chieftain, later on
the terror of the settlers; and that the young
fellow who dressed much like a white man was
really Joseph Brant, the adopted son of Sir
William Johnson, and later renowned as Thayendanega,
the Mohawk scourge of the American
settlements; while others were Turtle
Heart, old Bald Eagle, and Longboat of the
Delawares.</p>
<p>Now the assembled Indians began to seat
themselves cross-legged around the council fire.
It was easy to believe that the inner circle must
be made up of those in whose hands lay the most
power. Nor were they all Indians. Here and
there among the motley throng the watchers
above had glimpsed a white man, usually a
French Canadian trapper or trader. These
men's sympathies were all with the war Pontiac
was waging upon the venturesome English, who
had pushed their outposts so far in the direction
of the Mississippi.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
<p>Bob started when he recognized two familiar
faces among those below; these were no other
than Armand Lecroix, the leader of the men
with whom the Armstrong boys had quarrelled
at the time the dispute arose concerning
the ownership of the game; and another fellow
equally as brutal in his ways, Jacques Larue,
with whom Bob and Sandy had had trouble in
the past.</p>
<p>It was not surprise at seeing these men here
among the hostile Indians that gave Bob that
chilly feeling. He was only thinking how
pleased the French trappers would be if they
discovered how the grand council was being
spied upon, and who the unfortunates in the
tree-top proved to be.</p>
<p>Looking closer, Bob felt positive he could
recognize Pontiac. The most notorious Indian
of history, whose one dream it had ever been to
unite the many tribes into a confederacy, and
then sweep the hated palefaces back into the
ocean from which they had sprung, was a notable
figure.</p>
<p>His manner was commanding, and even his
garb bespoke the kingly role he had taken upon
himself. He was not above middle height,
though his figure was commanding. His complexion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
was darker than is usual with his race,
and his features had a bold and stern expression,
while his bearing was that of a man accustomed
to sweeping away all opposition by the
force of his imperious will.</p>
<p>Ordinarily Pontiac's attire was that of the
primitive savage, girded about the loins, wearing
beaded moccasins, and with his long black
hair flowing loosely; but, when seated in council,
he was wont to appear as Bob and Sandy
now gazed in awe upon him, plumed and painted
in the full costume of war.</p>
<p>Every eye was fastened upon Pontiac when
he spoke, after the pipe had been passed around,
and each member of the council had taken a
whiff, sending a little puff toward each point
of the compass. (<a id="Note_6b"></a><a href="#Note_6">Note 6.</a>)</p>
<p>Although the voice of the great sachem
reached them easily, neither of the boys could
understand what he said, as he made his passionate
appeal to the chiefs of the Six Nations
and many others assembled there. It was easy
however for them to guess that he was artfully
appealing to their passions and prejudices, and
telling them how, if only all the red tribes would
join together, they could once again possess the
land that their fathers had owned.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>
<p>Then others spoke, some apparently in favor
of the proposal of the great leader, others counselling
caution. Thus time passed until a full
hour had gone. The boys had not dared even
move all this while, though they felt stiff and
sore from so long perching upon the hard limbs.
Screened by the leaves that still clung to the
branches of the council oak, they had seen one
after another get up to give his views upon the
subject Pontiac had brought as a message from
his powerful tribe that had its home along the
border of the other Great Lakes, where Detroit
and similar frontier posts held out against the
attacks of the allied Indians.</p>
<p>No eye was strong enough to pierce the screen
that hid the three spies. Doubtless all of those
below found enough to interest them in watching
the play of passion, or entreaty, upon the
faces of the speakers, without allowing their
gaze to roam elsewhere. Most of all would they
fail to glance up amid the foliage of the oak,
where only a lynx or a wolverine might be expected
to lurk, if indeed any living thing could
be found there.</p>
<p>Sandy wished with all his heart that it were
over. He had seen enough, and was fairly wild
to get relief from his cramped position, Pontiac,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
after all, while possibly a wonderful man,
might pall upon one!</p>
<p>There was one event, however, that broke up
the monotony of hearing those speeches in a
tongue which they could not understand. This
happened when the fiery Jacques Larue arose to
his feet, and launched into a violent talk in the
Indian language, which he seemed to understand
as well as though he had been born a red
man.</p>
<p>He apparently differed from the line of argument
that the great sachem Pontiac had advanced,
for he frequently turned toward that
individual, and seemed to shake his hand almost
threateningly.</p>
<p>Whatever it may have been that stood between
them, Bob knew well that it had no concern
regarding the scheme to clean out the
pioneer settlements along the Great Lakes and
the Ohio River. Like all his breed, Larue
would have welcomed such a catastrophe, could
it be brought about.</p>
<p>Perhaps his suspicions had been aroused, and
he believed that this vast plot of Pontiac embraced
the French as well as the English—that,
after the latter had been wiped out, the red
hosts, flushed with victory, were to turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
upon their supporters, and finish the French
also.</p>
<p>History tells us that Pontiac was suspected
of harboring such a scheme, and only accepted
the help of the French trappers and traders in
order to lull them into a condition of fancied
security.</p>
<p>There was a sudden break in the harangue
of Jacques Larue when Pontiac, as if stung
beyond all control, sprang to his feet and struck
the excited French trapper full in the face.</p>
<p>A terrible moment of silence followed. Fully
fifty dusky hands sought tomahawks and knives
as the assemblage watched to see what the several
companions of Larue would do to avenge
the open insult. One move would have sealed
their death, and those men knew it only too well.</p>
<p>Face to face Pontiac and the French trapper
stood, with eye glaring into eye. Then with a
contemptuous laugh the chief made a movement
with his imperious hand, as if ordering Larue
to get out of his sight before he gave the signal
for him to be cut to pieces.</p>
<p>There was nothing for it but to obey, since
Larue knew only too well that he had few
friends among all that assemblage. Not one
would dare lift a hand against the dusky idol<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
of the Indian tribes, the silver-tongued and
powerful sachem of the Pottawottomies.</p>
<p>He slunk away, and vanished beyond the
outer circles; but that last frown which he bent
on Pontiac told only too plainly what hatred
and bitter venom was hidden in his black heart.</p>
<p>Nor did either of the watching and listening
white boys imagine for a moment what a tremendous
influence that very dramatic circumstance
was fated to have upon their own fortunes.
And still it was so.</p>
<p>The great council, held under the famous oak
where many such had taken place in the years
that were gone, broke up at last. The final
speech had been delivered by Pontiac himself;
and once more his wonderfully persuading voice
seemed to be raised in pleading. The Iroquois
chiefs had been divided, as near as Bob could
make out, some being in favor of joining the
tremendous chain of confederated tribes, while
others clung to their well-known allegiance to
the English.</p>
<p>Now the immense crowd had begun to melt
away. By dozens and scores the Indians took
themselves off, each tribe seeming to cling together.
Pontiac himself, Bob noticed, seemed
to accompany an old and wise-looking chief who,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
from his dress, he believed must be the famous
Delaware sachem, Bald Eagle; and with them,
too, was the Seneca chieftain.</p>
<p>In ten minutes not an Indian was to be seen
below. The fire had burned down, and was
slowly dying out. Sandy would have tried to
make a move in order to at least change his
position, only that his brother nudged him, and
in this way warned the impatient one that they
had not yet seen the end of the affair.</p>
<p>Figures were again moving under the sacred
council oak tree. Once more did the seven
strange figures of the allied medicine men appear,
to again exhort the Great Spirit to listen
to the appeals that had so recently been spoken.
They danced around the dying fire, they chanted
in unison, they waved their arms, and rattled
hollow gourds that contained hard seeds, until
the effect was most awe-inspiring.</p>
<p>Finally, as a fitting wind-up to these queer
proceedings that seemed to partake of the savage
nature of the Indian, each of them tossed
a handful of powder in the embers of the fire.
For the second time that red flame arose, to
bathe the entire vicinity in its fierce glow, and
to avoid which the watchers aloft had need to
close their aching eyes.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p>
<p>When they opened them again the seven
medicine men had vanished, gliding away as
silently as ghosts. Only the dying fire lay below
to tell them of the wonderful experience
which they had just passed through, thanks to
the sagacity and daring of their faithful guide,
Blue Jacket.</p>
<p>There was no further use trying to restrain
Sandy. He saw that the coast below was clear,
and felt that no Indian would dare profane the
sacred meeting-place after the medicine men
had thus consecrated it anew.</p>
<p>Nor did Blue Jacket attempt to stop him.
They certainly could not remain where they
were; and, since the Seneca village could not be
a great distance off, it might be well for them to
try to find it.</p>
<p>As Bob knew, it was the intention of their
dusky friend to enter, when they had discovered
the wigwams of the tribe to which the abductor
of little Kate belonged. He could play
the part of a messenger from the south, sent to
learn more about the plans of Pontiac, so that
the ever hostile Shawanees might be able to
work in common with the rest of the tribes.</p>
<p>Once within the borders of the big village it
would be easy for Blue Jacket to discover<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
whether Black Beaver had returned, and, if so,
what manner of prisoner he had brought with
him.</p>
<p>After that they could lay their heads together,
to fashion a plan by means of which the
girl might be spirited away.</p>
<p>Once on the ground Sandy began to stretch
himself vigorously. Nearly two hours of confinement,
without being allowed to move much
of the time, had apparently tied his young
muscles in knots, so that they actually pained
him.</p>
<p>"I'm glad to be able to put up my hands
again, I tell you," Sandy remarked, as he thus
stretched his limbs, and drew in huge breaths,
as though he had not been allowed to use his
lungs properly for fear lest he thus betray
their place of concealment to the watchful
enemy below.</p>
<p>Bob was himself feeling much better since
allowed to leave that hard perch in the thickest
part of the giant oak. He would have so expressed
himself, no doubt, only that he was
given no opportunity. Even as he opened his
mouth to reply to his brother, a gruff voice
broke in upon them from the rear, saying:</p>
<p>"Zat is ver' goot, begar! Suppose, then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
young monsieur continue to elevate ze hands,
and so it vill not tempt me to shoot. If so be
I must press zis trigger of ze gun, poof! it vill
be ovaire so quick wif you all. Stand still, or
ze consequences be on your own heads!"</p>
<p>Bob felt a cold chill as he listened to these
scoffing words. He recognized the voice as belonging
to Armand Lacroix, the French trapper
who had given him such a look of hatred at the
time there was a dispute between them as to
whom the game belonged, and which was settled
in favor of the young pioneer.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXI<br />
<small>PRISONERS</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Steady</span>, Sandy!"</p>
<p>"But, Bob, must we just stand here, and let
them take us prisoners?" asked the younger
brother, in an agonized voice.</p>
<p>"We can do nothing to help ourselves just
now," Bob went on, in a singularly calm tone,
"because, you see, there are four of them; and
each man has a gun pointed at us. We must
try to kill time, hoping that Blue Jacket may
bring us help in some way."</p>
<p>"Blue Jacket—where is he?" asked Sandy,
wonderingly.</p>
<p>"I do not know," replied Bob. "He disappeared
like a shadow. I think he must have
heard the breathing of these men as they came
along, and, knowing that it was too late to cry
out a warning to us, he just melted away, as is
his habit."</p>
<p>"Will he desert us, then?" asked Sandy,
with a trace of bitterness in his voice.</p>
<p>"Impossible," answered his brother. "We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>
ought to know Blue Jacket better than to think
that of him. Forget all about him just now, and
perhaps, if things come to the worst, he may
show his hand."</p>
<p>"What for you say zat, young monsieur?"
demanded the leering Lacroix. "Haf you zen
a compadre near by? Zen it vill not be good
for him to come back. Ve vill engage to make a
prisoner of heem just as ve haf of you. Drop
ze guns, both of you!"</p>
<p>Bob instantly obeyed. He would have resisted
to the last gasp if there had been any
chance, however slight; but, when four guns
were bearing on them, with the owners not more
than ten feet away, it would have been foolhardy
to refuse to carry out the order of the
lawless French trapper.</p>
<p>Besides, he somehow fancied that the others
would have preferred a defiant attitude on their
part, since it would give them a reasonable
excuse to shoot.</p>
<p>Sandy, seeing that his brother had in this
way acknowledged their case to be apparently
hopeless, also cast his faithful old musket from
him. Seldom had it ever missed fire, and he
was accustomed to depending on it when in
sore need; but just then it could only invite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
the coming of quick death, if he so much as
tried to draw the hammer back.</p>
<p>The stalwart woodranger of course noted
this unhappy manner of Sandy. It seemed to
rather please him, since the shoe was now on
the other foot, and he had the whip-hand of the
young pioneers.</p>
<p>"Ze leetle cub, he not like eet ver' much,"
he chuckled. "But it is ze fortunes of war,
monsieur, and you must bend ze neck to ze
sword. Ve haf you in ze hole and zis game eet
ees in our hands. Now, tell me if you please,
vat brings you up to zis country, so far avay
from ze happy cabin on ze Ohio, la belle river?"</p>
<p>Neither of the boys replied, Sandy because
he was too angry to speak, and Bob on account
of wanting to gather his wits first, before committing
himself. To tell these enemies about
Kate would be weakening their case. Should
they escape from the clutches of the four
Frenchmen, the chances were that Lacroix
would warn Black Beaver that the brothers of
his captive had come to rescue her and a trap
might be laid into which they would fall.</p>
<p>"Ze astonishment of ze matter almost strike
me dumb," continued the other, who seldom
knew when to stop talking, once he started.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
"To zink zat zese leetle boys of ze Eenglish
should hide zemselves in zat sacred oak, and
hear all zat was said at ze grand council! It
ees marvel! It is superb! I am not agree in
my mind whether ve ought to visit ze punishment
on zere heads ourselves, Monsieur Larue,
or take zem to ze Indians for to run ze gauntlet,
and burn at ze stake!"</p>
<p>Sandy shook his head. It was as much as to
tell the speaker that if he were carrying on this
style of talk simply to frighten the two undaunted
lads, he might as well save his breath.</p>
<p>At this moment the other leader among the
trappers took a turn in the conversation, which
up to now had been monopolized by Lacroix.</p>
<p>"I haf von idea, Armand, my friend," he
observed, looking very wise.</p>
<p>"Zat is ver' well; but suppose you share ze
same wif us all!" Lacroix cried, as he pressed
his cheek against the butt of his heavy gun,
after the manner of a man who longed to pull
trigger and do fell execution.</p>
<p>"You seem to think," Larue continued, "ze
young cubs zey come avay up to zis far country
just to climb in zat tree, and listen to ze
great Pontiac talk. Parbleau! zat is all wrong,
I assure you on my honor. Look back, my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
friend, and perhaps you vill remember zat
when ve lodged in ze great town of ze Senecas
zere came into the same a young chief who
bring wif heem a prisoner!"</p>
<p>Bob started, and bit his lips until the blood
came. Without meaning to do the brothers a
good turn Larue was about to make a disclosure
that would do away with uncertainty concerning
the whereabouts of the stolen Kate.</p>
<p>"Oui, I remember ze same, ver' well," said
Armand; "but what may zat haf to do wif our
young friends here? Haf zey lost some one
from zere family? Was zat girl belong to zem,
I would like to know?"</p>
<p>Jacques Larue nodded his head violently.</p>
<p>"At ze time somezings seem to say to me
zat somewhere haf I seen ze pretty face of ze
leetle one. Now I know. She is ze seester of
ze Armstrong boys. From her home haf she
been carry by ze young chief, who fancy her
face, because he lose heem own seester not so
long ago. And so, behold, do zese brave boys
come all zis way to rescue ze Kate. Is it not
grant? Alas! to zink zey fall themselves into
ze power of ze savages, and be made to burn
at ze stake. Zat is sad!"</p>
<p>He pretended to look mournful as he said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>
this; but there was an old score to be settled
between Jacques and the young pioneers, and
Bob was not deceived in the least by this mockery
of sympathy.</p>
<p>Back in those sparkling orbs he could see the
wicked delight that filled the soul of Larue at
this unexpected pleasure. For the moment
even the insult, put upon him by the great
Pontiac in the presence of scores of chiefs and
warriors, was almost forgotten.</p>
<p>Nor was Armand Lacroix more to be depended
on. He might, down in his heart, feel
something like admiration for the grit shown
by the lads in thus venturing into a hostile
country in order to serve their loved sister.
That feeling, however, would be utterly superceded
by his joy at having a chance to vent his
evil spite upon the boy who had held him up at
the muzzle of his gun, and made him a laughing
stock for Simon Kenton and his fellow borderers.</p>
<p>"Sacre! vat shall be done wiz zem?" demanded
Lacroix, half lowering his levelled rifle;
for, since the boys had cast away their weapons,
they could hardly be deemed dangerous, especially
since there were two men to each lad.</p>
<p>"It was a clever idea you haf, Armand, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
come back to ze sacred oak, where ze Indians,
you say, would nevaire interrupt us, for a talk.
Only for zat we would not haf ze pleasure of
meeting our young friends. You ask what sall
we do wif zem? Eef I haf my way, I say, turn
zem loose and zen give each twenty paces to run,
after wich we would fire. I haf drive ze head of
a nail at more zan zat."</p>
<p>"Ze idea heem not haf bad, Jacques; but,
after all, what could equal ze pleasure of turning
zese two bold trailers over to ze Pottawottomies
wif Pontiac. Zey know how to torture
ze foe. Zey haf long experience. Eet is no
business of ours how zey put ze prisoner to
death; zey are our allies, and we cannot let escape
zose who carry ze great secret of ze council."</p>
<p>Bob knew the character of these half-savage
French trappers. He believed they were on a
par with the renegade white man whom he had
heard utter such bitter words at the council fire,
and whom he fancied must be the notorious
Simon Girty, himself. Had it been his own life
that was in peril, Bob would have refused to
make any sort of appeal to the lawless trappers;
but, for the sake of little Kate, he felt that he
must lower his pride to plead with them.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p>
<p>"Lacroix and Larue," he said, slowly, and
with an earnestness in his manner that chained
their attention; "for myself I would scorn to
plead; but, because of the poor child who is at
this hour a prisoner in the Iroquois village, I
ask you to let us go free. Her poor mother's
heart is nearly broken, and if Kate never comes
back, it will surely give way. If you would only
let us go, so that we might try to set her free,
we give you our solemn promise that we will deliver
ourselves up to you again, if we survive,
so that you can do what you will."</p>
<p>The two Frenchmen exchanged glances.
They could not but be influenced by the brave
words of the half-grown lad. At the same time,
they had too long led utterly wicked lives to allow
themselves to be tempted to do the right
thing now.</p>
<p>"Listen to zat, would you, Larue?" said
Armand, with a sneer. "Ze cub wants us to
let him go free zis time. He even promises zat
he will call heemself our prisoner at any time
in ze future, eef he lives. It is to laugh. I haf
always believe ze bird in ze hand is much better
zan two in ze bush. How ees it, Jacques, shall
we bow ze young monsieur and hees brother
off ze premises, or turn zem over to ze savages,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
to run ze gantlet, and afford much
sport?"</p>
<p>"Our duty eet is plain, Armand," the second
Frenchman remarked, with a chuckle; "we
dare not play double wif our allies. Zey would
turn on us and poof! zat would be ze end of
everyzing. No, it must be zat we make ze prisoner,
and march ze cubs in to ze Iroquois town
to be punished as spies."</p>
<p>"Oh!" said Sandy, unable to entirely keep
quiet, with his pulses beating like a furious
trip-hammer.</p>
<p>"Stand still, Sandy!" said Bob in a low
tone, fearing that his impulsive brother was
about to take desperate chances in leaping at
the four French trappers; "all may not yet be
lost. Hold hard for just another minute, I beg
of you!"</p>
<p>Something in Bob's tone gave Sandy a new
lease of life. It was as though he had made a
discovery that meant hope. And this was, indeed,
what had happened, for, just five seconds
before, Bob had seen a head suddenly raised
above the surrounding bushes; and even in the
dull light of the dying fire he believed that he
had recognized the well known features of Pat
O'Mara!</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXII<br />
<small>THE TABLES TURNED</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Fortunately</span> Bob understood what part he
ought to take in the turning of the tables on
the quartette of Frenchmen. If he could only
hold their attention for a brief time, Pat
O'Mara might creep up close enough to spring
his surprise.</p>
<p>That one glimpse which Bob had taken had
shown him another thing; the Irish frontiersman
was not alone! In several other places the
bushes were waving slightly, proclaiming that
others must also be advancing cautiously
toward the council oak.</p>
<p>He knew not whom they might be, and, beyond
the possibility of Blue Jacket constituting
one of the number, could not even guess who
were Pat's comrades. But it was positive that
they must be friends, else they would not be up
here along the border of the Great Lakes, spying
upon the grand council of the tribes in
league with that trouble-maker, Pontiac.</p>
<p>And so wise Bob immediately set to work to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
hold the attention of Larue and his three companions.
Seconds would count just then, since
their friends were crawling closer and closer
all the time.</p>
<p>"Wait for a minute, please, gentlemen all!"
he cried, holding up a hand, as he saw Armand
take a step forward, doubtless eager to bind
with deerskin thongs the lads he hated so bitterly.</p>
<p>There was something about Bob's manner to
arouse their curiosity. Besides, they knew no
reason why they should wish to hurry. The
Indians dared not return again to the vicinity
of the sacred council oak, after the medicine
men had conducted their closing exercises under
its wide spreading branches; time must
elapse before the spell which had been placed
on the tree would have exhausted its charm.
Hence there seemed to be no danger of interruption.</p>
<p>Besides, they fancied playing with their
prisoners, somewhat as a cat does with a
mouse, enjoying, in anticipation, the feast to
come.</p>
<p>"What is eet ze young monsieur would say
to us?" asked Larue, making a mock bow, as
though he could not forget the manners of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
polite Frenchman even in the midst of war's
alarms.</p>
<p>"Perhaps we might be able to give you much
valuable information in return for a favor!"
said Bob, trying to fill his manner with mystery,
so as to further excite the curiosity of the
border adventurers, always eager for gain.</p>
<p>He saw that they began to show some interest;
for Jacques and Armand exchanged
glances, with raised eyebrows. It was as if
one said to his comrade: "Shall we listen to
what he has to say?" and the other by a nod
announced that it would be as well, since they
had nothing to lose.</p>
<p>"Bob, what would you do?" gasped the horrified
Sandy, actually believing that, in his despair,
his brother meant to reveal some weakness
in the defences of the white settlers, or
betray the secret code by which they expected
to summon assistance in time of need.</p>
<p>"Be still!" hissed Bob, between his teeth,
for he saw figures creeping closer, making no
more noise than so many snakes might have
done; and Sandy, utterly confounded by this
strange attitude of the other, shrank back appalled,
fearing lest Bob had indeed lost his
mind.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
<p>"Listen for a minute to me, Lacroix," the
young pioneer went on, as he held the attention
of the four men. "Perhaps I could tell you
where much of this same precious ore might be
found. Look well at it, and say whether or not
it is true gold!"</p>
<p>He had taken something from his pocket, and
now tossed it across to the nearest man, who
chanced to be Armand. The latter dextrously
caught the object, which he immediately began
to examine with the eyes of greed.</p>
<p>"Throw some small wood on ze fire, so that
I may haf more light!" he exclaimed; "and
ze rest of you keep an eye on ze young cubs zat
zey do not run away. Sacre! can I belief my
eyes? What is zis I see?"</p>
<p>Sandy caught his breath. For the first time
there flashed through his mind something of the
truth with regard to Bob's sudden inspiration.
He realized that his shrewd brother must be
fighting for time.</p>
<p>That little piece of ore containing the sparkling
gold grains had often lain in his own palm,
for Bob had carried it many years. Originally
it had come from the mountains of North Carolina,
where some of the settlers were engaged
in a crude method of mining in the streams and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
rocky gullies. A returned Virginian, who had
gone there to nurse his sick brother, brought
some of these specimens with him, and one had
been given to Bob.</p>
<p>And now it was playing the great part for
which perhaps it had so long been reposing in
the pocket of the young pioneer.</p>
<p>Meantime Larue, having caught up a handful
of fine wood, and cast the same upon the
smouldering council fire, so that it flamed again
briefly, hastened to lean over the shoulder of
his shorter comrade. His hungry eyes feasted
upon the glittering object which Armand held
in the hollow of his hand.</p>
<p>"Can it be posseeble zat it ees real gold?"
he asked, with a quiver of greed in his harsh
voice.</p>
<p>"Take eet and see, Jacques," replied the
other, thrusting the object upon his companion,
as though eager to have his own opinion
verified.</p>
<p>Immediately the other, having examined the
bit of ore, about which there could be no possible
doubt, raised his bloodshot eyes, and surveyed
Bob almost fiercely. And the boy knew
then and there that his trap had worked; for
he had chained the attention of the four Frenchmen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
while closer and closer crept those who
were coming through the bushes toward the
opening.</p>
<p>"Haf you more of ze same stuff?" demanded
Jules.</p>
<p>"Not here," replied Bob, coolly. "I would
not be apt to carry it along with me when starting
out on such an expedition as this. But I
give you my word I can tell you where it comes
from, and where much more of it lies, waiting
to be picked up."</p>
<p>The covetous eyes of the crafty pair sought
each other; and then the two exchanged nods.
They had swallowed the bait, gorged it in fact;
but Bob knew that he must try to prevent
their feeling the hook until he was ready
to strike.</p>
<p>"What is zis you tell us, hey?" Larue continued
craftily. "Zat if we let you go free, you
take us to ze place where we can peek up much
of zis same yellow sand in ze rock? But how
we know you keep your word? S'pose we hold
one like hostage till time come zat you carry
out promise?"</p>
<p>Bob turned to his brother, at the same time
giving him a sly wink.</p>
<p>"What say you to that, Sandy?" he asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
"Would you agree to stay with Larue and his
friends while I carry out our little plan; and
then, later on, they would set you free, after I
had led them to where they might find more of
this?"</p>
<p>And Sandy, beginning to realize the value of
passing seconds, pretended to carefully weigh
the importance of the proposition before replying.
Finally, after the Frenchmen had begun
to move restlessly, as they kept their eager eyes
fastened on him, Sandy nodded his head.</p>
<p>"Whatever you think best, that will I do,
Bob?" he said, slowly.</p>
<p>"Zat is well, young monsieur," chuckled
Jacques, rubbing his hands together, as if
greatly pleased. "Parbleu! it may be zat we
shall yet be able to make arrangements satisfactory
to both. If you rescue ze young ma'mselle,
we are to be told ze secret; if, on ze uzzer
hand, you fail, still ze one who is wiz us
shall lead us to ze fine mine. It ees a bargain!"</p>
<p>So delighted were the four men over the prospect,
that those who were supposed to be watching
the boys allowed their rifles to sag a bit.
Bob was running a hand through the pockets of
his clothes, as though eagerly searching for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
something else, and of course every eye was
riveted on his movements; which was the very
object he had in mind.</p>
<p>Suddenly, and without the slightest warning,
there was a rush of feet. The four French
trappers whirled about with the intention of
putting up a stout resistance, but it was too
late. They had been caught napping!</p>
<p>The guns were torn from their grasp, and
hurled to the ground. Instantly they found
themselves staring into dark muzzles of guns
held in steady hands, while back of these
weapons appeared the faces of Simon Kenton,
Pat O'Mara and one other woodranger. Nor
was Blue Jacket missing, for he stood in plain
sight, with an arrow fitted to his bowstring, and
drawn nearly to the flint barb, as he aimed
straight at the heart of Larue.</p>
<p>"Make the slightest noise, and you shall
surely die!" exclaimed Kenton, in a stern
voice, that had its effect upon all the Frenchmen.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Bob and Sandy had taken advantage
of the opening to leap forward and recover
their own weapons, which were instantly levelled
at their enemies. Thus encompassed on
all sides it was little wonder that the French<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
trappers were ready to throw up their hands,
and admit defeat.</p>
<p>"History has a way of repeating itself, Lacroix,"
said Kenton, with a laugh, as he started
to bind the hands of the borderman with tested
thongs made from the toughest of elk hide.
"Once before I had the pleasure of stopping
your little game when you would oppress these
two boys. Mark well what I say, for the next
time you raise a hand against them, the crack
of a rifle will seal your doom! Two warnings
spell the end."</p>
<p>"But what would you do wiz us?" demanded
Larue, as he saw that each of his companions
was being triced up in the same fashion
as himself; since Pat and the remaining
scout were experts in the art of applying
bonds.</p>
<p>"That we do not know just yet," returned
the borderer. "But, if you accept your capture
as the fortunes of war, and do not try to
escape, there will be no harm befall you."</p>
<p>Bob and Sandy were no longer filled with despair.
Like magic their condition had changed.
Instead of being prisoners in the hands of these
cruel French trappers, and threatened with the
fate that so often came upon those falling into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
the hands of the warring Indians, they were
once more free.</p>
<p>Better still, they had found good friends in
Kenton, Pat O'Mara and the third scout, so
that the chances of their daring mission being
carried out were more favorable than ever.</p>
<p>"Pat has told us about the trouble that has
come upon you, Bob," Kenton said, as he shook
hands with each of the boys in turn. "And we
all feel for you. Our object in coming here has
now been accomplished, since we have listened
at a distance to what Pontiac said to the chiefs
at the grand powwow here. If we can help you
rescue little Kate, we stand ready to lend a
hand."</p>
<p>Sandy's face fairly beamed with joy. As we
know, he entertained a feeling bordering on
worship for the gallant young woodsman,
Simon Kenton, who in his opinion was a greater
hero than Colonel Boone himself. What Kenton
said, therefore, counted heavily with Sandy;
and, when the reckless borderer thus gave his
promise to assist them in their work, the boy
believed success was assured.</p>
<p>Not so Bob, who was accustomed to weighing
things more seriously before making up his
mind. He knew of the countless difficulties they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
would have to meet, both before they effected
the rescue of Kate, and afterward, when the
whole country near the Great Lakes would be
overrun with savage hordes, searching for the
palefaces who had dared invade their territory,
and even enter the great village of that most
noted of Seneca chiefs, Kiashuta, the war
leader, who had just made a new blood compact
with Pontiac.</p>
<p>Still, it was good to look on the faces of these
three valiant hunters, and realize that no longer
were two weak boys pitting their strength and
knowledge of Indian tactics against the cunning
of the Iroquois.</p>
<p>Bob did not fail to shake the hand of his
friend, Blue Jacket, who must have run across
the three borderers soon after he slipped away
at the coming of the hostile Frenchmen.</p>
<p>Thus they now counted six stout souls, united
in the determination to accomplish the object of
the long journey, and bring little Kate back to
the arms of the fond mother, mourning on the
bank of the far-distant Ohio.</p>
<p>To the hands of Simon Kenton willingly did
Bob resign his cause, firm in the belief that, if
any mortal could carry it to success, the bold
borderer would.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXIII<br />
<small>THE CAVERN OF THE WATER SPIRITS</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">We</span> must get away from here right soon,"
announced Kenton, after he had asked the boys
a few questions concerning the adventures that
had been met with on the long and dangerous
journey across country from the Ohio to the
region of the Great Lakes.</p>
<p>"Whatever you say, we will do only too
gladly," declared Bob; and Sandy nodded his
head eagerly, to denote that he was of the same
mind.</p>
<p>"Very good," remarked the borderer, who
had been thinking over matters even at the time
he questioned the boys. "And, as it happens,
we know of a fine hiding-place not a great way
off, where we can keep these fellows safe during
the time we must stay around the Seneca
town."</p>
<p>"Troth!" remarked Pat O'Mara, immediately;
"'tis a jewel av a place. They till me
they have kept house in the same both toimes
whin comin' up till the counthry av the Great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
Lakes, to say phat the crafty ould sarpint
Kiashuta might be about. By the greatest luck
in the worrld I ran acrost Abijah Cook here,
and was introduced to the cavern. 'Tis a
grand place I'm tilling ye, me boys; and bad
cess to the ridskin that iver discovers the
same."</p>
<p>"Come, let us depart without any more delay,"
said Kenton, impatiently; for he knew
that there was more or less danger lest one of
the medicine men find some excuse to return
to the sacred oak, and thus make a discovery
that must cause the Seneca village to buzz like
an enormous hive of bees, with scores of warriors
rushing forth to scour the whole neighborhood
for signs of the bold palefaces.</p>
<p>The four Frenchmen evidently did not enjoy
the prospect by which they were confronted.
Still, they were soldiers of fortune enough to
accept things as they came along. Who could
tell what the next shuffle of the cards might
bring forth? The first often became last, and
the under dog might find himself in a position
to make terms as victor.</p>
<p>That their air of indifference was assumed
even the boys felt sure. They could detect the
cautious looks cast around by the leaders of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>
Frenchmen, and understood how eagerly they
would seize upon a chance to escape.</p>
<p>Nor were the three white men in doubt as to
what such a catastrophe might mean for them;
since it must bring a mob of cruel foes howling
at their heels like a pack of timber wolves eager
for the blood of the wounded stag.</p>
<p>Quitting the wonderful oak that had, perhaps,
witnessed these strange councils of the red
men for centuries past, all plunged into the
forest.</p>
<p>The French trappers were fastened together
with a hide rope which Kenton happened to
have wrapped about his waist.</p>
<p>Guarded by men with ready rifles, and followed
by the two boys and Blue Jacket, the
prisoners knew they would show their good
sense by refraining from any demonstration.</p>
<p>Crafty Larue might have sought to delay the
march by pretended stumbles, but he did not
exactly like the manner of Kenton. Possibly
he knew something of the fiery nature of the
rash borderer, and feared to arouse his anger.</p>
<p>As they thus threaded the mazes of the deep
woods, winding in and out while following certain
trails made doubtless by wild animals, not
a word was spoken. Kenton had warned the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
prisoners that talking would not be allowed
under any circumstances.</p>
<p>He himself wished to ask a score of important
questions of the boys, knowing that, since
they had been hidden in the oak tree during the
holding of the great palaver, they must know
much that he yearned to grasp. But he could
wait until they were in a position of safety before
making his inquiries.</p>
<p>"I hope we are nearly there," whispered
Sandy in the ear of his brother, for, to tell the
truth, the boy was nearly exhausted after the
great strain of the last week, and then those
two long hours up in the tree, when he could
hardly breathe freely, for fear of betraying
their hiding-place to the watchful enemy.</p>
<p>Pat O'Mara was close enough to catch the
low words, or else he guessed what Sandy must
have said. At any rate, he dropped back a pace
or two, and managed to remark in his genial,
consoling way:</p>
<p>"Whist now, be aisy, me boy; 'twill not be
long afore we reach our distination. And thin,
by the powers, ye can rist as long as ye plaise.
Do be lookin' out that ye lave the trees alone,
and save the skin av your nose," he added, as
Sandy, forgetting to be as careful as usual, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
his desire to hear what Pat had to say, ran full
into a sapling that he failed to see in time, and
consequently suffered to the extent of several
scratches on his face.</p>
<p>It was almost marvellous the way those forest
rangers managed to pass in and out of the
dense forest like so many shuttles in the hands
of an expert weaver. The moon was utterly
missing now, and even the light of the stars
failed to penetrate beneath that thick canopy of
matted branches overhead, so that they stalked
along in almost complete darkness.</p>
<p>But they were at home under such conditions.
The woods were an open book to Kenton. He
read the pages as readily as any Indian who
ever crouched in the war-dance, or lifted his
voice in the whoop of a foray. They used to
say that Kenton possessed the eyes of a cat, so
that he could see when other men were blind.
And perhaps they were right, for he certainly
led his little troop in and out with marvellous
skill.</p>
<p>Some ten minutes later Bob heard the music
of a waterfall ahead.</p>
<p>"Phat do yees think av that?" asked Pat
O'Mara a moment later, as they stood on the
bank of a fairly large stream, and looked up at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
the sheet of water that shot over the ledge
above, to fall in a white tumbling mass into the
pool at their feet.</p>
<p>"It is beautiful," observed Bob, who, however
was wise enough to know that Kenton
would not have brought them hither simply to
admire the cataract.</p>
<p>"Back of that sheet of water there is a cavern,"
said the leader, as they stood on the shore.
"I have been many times to the great Niagara,
and a friendly Onondaga chief took me back
to the wonderful shelf of rock that is hidden by
that wall of falling water. So I suspected that
there might be just such a fine hiding-place
here. Many months ago, when I was up in this
country on a mission for Governor Dunmore of
Virginia, I investigated, and found it to be true.
Follow after me and you shall see."</p>
<p>The four prisoners held back. They did not
like the idea of braving the wrath of those descending
waters. Perhaps there may have been
some superstitious fear connected with their
hesitancy, for the Indians had legends concerning
this same cataract, and believed that the
spirits of the departed came hither, to sing
again the war chants and songs of love that
they had known when on earth.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p>
<p>But there was nothing left for the Frenchmen
to do but obey, when those grim keepers urged
them on. Life was sweet, even to such reckless
rovers, and so, overcoming their reluctance,
they obeyed the directions given, and passed
in safety behind the sparkling, water curtain.</p>
<p>"Keep against the rock, all!" said Kenton,
who was in the lead.</p>
<p>Sandy stumbled; but, as usual, Bob was
quick to throw out a helping hand, so that the
other was saved a plunge over the edge of the
rock, which must have resulted in a good ducking,
if nothing more serious.</p>
<p>"Now stand still," came the voice of their
leader from a point close at hand. "I have
torches handy, and, as soon as I can get at my
tinder, you shall have light."</p>
<p>Presently, as they stood patiently waiting,
holding on to the prisoners lest they be tempted
to make a dash for liberty in the dark, they
heard Kenton striking his flint against the steel.
Then a tiny blaze sprang up, which in turn was
communicated to a long splinter of fat pine,
taken from a tree, they afterwards learned,
that had been lately riven by a thunderbolt, and
hence was scrupulously avoided by the Indians.</p>
<p>When the torch lighted up the cavern the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
boys found that, owing to the formation of the
rocks, it was next to impossible for any one outside
to see signs of human occupancy. Besides,
should a Seneca warrior discover a strange
weird glow behind the water curtain, he would
very likely fall on his face in the full belief that
the spirits were holding council there, and that
the fire was not of this world, but from the land
of the great Manitou.</p>
<p>"Here you can rest, my brave boys," said
Kenton, kindly. "We have plenty of meat,
and there is no lack of fuel. The smoke of the
fire escapes through crevices in the rocks above.
See, yonder are beds of leaves and stripped
hemlock. After we have eaten, and you have
told me what you heard while hidden in the oak,
you must lie down to rest. As to the rescue of
Kate, we will make our plans later."</p>
<p>A fire was soon started, the same supply of
pine wood doing service. And, under such
singular conditions, the two young pioneers ate
the first good meal they had enjoyed for more
than a week.</p>
<p>Afterwards Bob sat beside Kenton while the
borderer plied him with many questions. Of
course Bob was not always able to give as intelligent
an answer as he would like, since his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
ignorance of the Indian tongue had prevented
his understanding much that had been said by Pontiac
and the other head chiefs during the
council; but Kenton, in his customary shrewd
way, managed to guess at what was lacking.</p>
<p>"It is all plain to me, Bob," he said, later
on. "Pontiac is at his old game, and hopes to
weld all the various tribes from the Alleghanies
to the Mississippi in a grand confederation in
favor of the French, whom he loves, and against
the English colonists, whom he despises. The
Sacs, his own people, the Pottawottomies; the
Foxes; the Delawares; even the Illinois tribes
he is sure of; also the Shawanees. He longs
to add the Six Nations, or Iroquois, to the list.
That is why his silver voice is heard in the land
of the Senecas," he added bitterly.</p>
<p>"But the Iroquois are the friends of the
English?" Bob exclaimed.</p>
<p>"Yes," Kenton went on, a frown mantling
his fine face. "They have been, in the past;
but the artful French have long tried to undermine
this old established friendship. They constantly
seek opportunities to make the Onondagas,
the Oneidas, the Mohawks, the Cayugas,
the Tuscaroras, and the Senecas believe that
the English governor of Virginia is playing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
them false, and speaking with a double
tongue."</p>
<p>"But they have not wavered, up to now,"
said Bob. "Surely they hate the French so
much that they will refuse to join with them
in warring on our settlements, just because the
lilies of France seek to run a line of trading
posts all the way down the Mississippi?"</p>
<p>"We believe that is true with most of the
tribes; but the Senecas have acted in a suspicious
way," returned the borderer. "That
is why we two came up to this northern country.
News reached Boone that Pontiac was sending
his wampum belt to the Seneca chief, Kiashuta,
with word that the owner expected to personally
follow it up, and address a great gathering
of the various tribes under the famous
Seneca council oak."</p>
<p>"If that was Kiashuta with whom Pontiac
departed, I greatly fear he is leaning toward
the teaching of the great plotter," Bob declared.</p>
<p>"Yes, he has little love for the English, the
more the pity," Kenton added; "but, left to
himself, the Seneca would have been swayed by
his fellow chiefs of the Six Nations. Now that
he has heard the fiery, persuading voice of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>
Pontiac, I fear he, too, will be ready to dig up
the hatchet that has been buried these many
years, and go with his young braves on the
warpath, burning and slaying."</p>
<p>Sandy had already thrown himself down on
some of the hemlock boughs, and was far gone
on the road to slumberland. The warmth of the
cavern, together with his more satisfied mind,
and the good supper of which he had just partaken,
combined to make the lad very sleepy.</p>
<p>Nor was Bob averse to following his example
when he found that Kenton had no more important
questions to ask. He did not inquire as to
what plans the other might have already budding
in his mind, looking to the stealing of their
captive sister from the clutches of the Senecas.</p>
<p>Kenton was a man to be trusted when he had
such a task on hand. He would sleep on it, and,
with the coming of another day, no doubt they
might hear just how he expected to go about
entering the village of the Senecas, and robbing
Black Beaver's wigwam of its latest tenant,
the paleface girl whom the young chief had
stolen to replace the daughter so mourned by
the old squaw, his mother.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXIV<br />
<small>KENTON'S LIFE WITH THE INDIANS</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Must</span> we wait for night to come, Bob, before
we can make a move?" asked Sandy, as
he and his brother sat back of the water curtain
that concealed the wonderful cavern discovered
by Simon Kenton.</p>
<p>"Why, what else could be done?" exclaimed
Bob. "In the broad daylight, if we left this
hiding-place, we might run across some hunting
party of Senecas; or, perhaps, a group of other
Indians returning to their own country. What
a calamity that would prove, Sandy!"</p>
<p>"Yes, I understand," the younger boy replied,
with a heavy sigh; "but how slowly the
hours pass. They seem like lead to me. Every
minute drags as if it stood for ten. I've tried
to sleep; but the terrible position of our poor
sister haunts me. And then I get to thinking of
father. What if it was his party that the Indians
attacked and killed."</p>
<p>"We can only hope on, and trust that all will
come out well in the end," replied Bob, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
only with a most determined effort was able to
keep from falling into the same despondent condition
that Sandy showed.</p>
<p>Truth to tell, there was good reason for his
courage to be put to the test. By some accident
Abijah Cook, the companion of Kenton on
this long and hazardous trip to the country of
the Great Lakes, had overheard some Indians
talking, while he lay concealed in a dense
thicket near the borders of the Seneca village.</p>
<p>Among other things which they discussed,
was the information that a party of palefaces
travelling eastward had been taken by surprise,
and utterly wiped out of existence. Their
scalps even then adorned the lodge-poles of a
Shawanee village far to the southeast.</p>
<p>It was true that the one who carried this
news had claimed that the party numbered a
round ten, as many as the fingers on both hands,
but Bob knew how such a thing might easily be
stretched in the telling, and, while he pretended
to scoff at the idea of their father's little party
having fallen victims to the treachery of the
red men, deep down in his heart he was conscious
of a terrible chill every time his thoughts
turned that way.</p>
<p>"But how is it we do not see our good friend,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>
Blue Jacket?" continued Sandy. "He is not
the one to desert us in such a terrible time as
this."</p>
<p>"Never!" exclaimed Bob, positively.
"Blue Jacket is faithful to the death. You
do not see him just now because Kenton sent
him to visit the village, and find out how the
land lies."</p>
<p>"But dare he enter there, with Pontiac and
all those other chiefs from distant tribes still
present as guests of Kiashuta?" asked Sandy,
puzzled.</p>
<p>"Why not," answered his brother, "when
that is the very thing to make his coming seem
perfectly natural. Blue Jacket is known as a
coming man in his tribe. Some day, if he lives,
he will become famous, and, Sandy, although I
am sorry to say it, outside of our family I do
not believe Blue Jacket loves the whites any too
much."</p>
<p>"No," declared Sandy, quickly; "he has
lost several dear relatives by the guns of the
settlers. He was even engaged in trying to
wipe out our little caravan at the time we saved
his life, and won his eternal gratitude. I see
now what you mean, Bob. He can enter the
village of the Senecas, saying that he was on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>
mission for his far-away tribe, and, learning
of the grand council, stopped to meet Pontiac."</p>
<p>"And to learn what the outcome of the grand
palaver had been, so he might carry the news
with him to his own people. I think he must
be known to some of the other chiefs, who would
vouch for him—Long Coat, the Delaware;
Turtle Heart and Bald Eagle, of the same nation;
and even Silver Heels, who, like our
friend, is a full-blooded Shawanee. I am only
worried about one thing, Sandy."</p>
<p>"Tell me what that may be, then," asked
Bob's brother.</p>
<p>"When Blue Jacket comes face-to-face with
Pontiac," the older pioneer boy went on, "will
those far searching eyes of the great sachem
look deep into his heart, and see that he has a
double purpose in coming into the village?
They say he has terrible eyes, that can read the
secrets of the heart like the pages of a book."</p>
<p>"But Blue Jacket really has no cause for
fear!" Sandy exclaimed. "His heart is with
the plans of Pontiac, only, in this case, he would
try and save our little sister to us."</p>
<p>"But," Bob continued, shaking his head seriously,
"think what would happen to him if
they knew he had been hidden in the sacred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>
oak, and assisted two palefaces to overhear the
council!"</p>
<p>"Well, they are not going to know that, for
a while at least," declared Sandy; "unless one
of our prisoners happens to get away. We
must make sure that so great a disaster does
not occur."</p>
<p>"Surely. But here is Simon Kenton coming
to join us. I have wanted to ask him many
things about the village of the Senecas, where
our Kate is a prisoner, and perhaps, while we
sit here, waiting for Blue Jacket's return, he
may give us some account of what he has seen
among the lodges of Kiashuta."</p>
<p>The borderer threw himself down beside
them.</p>
<p>"What were you two talking about just
now?" he remarked, smiling in his pleasant
way, for Kenton was a most agreeable young
fellow, with winning manners that made him
many friends, even though Boone looked upon
him as a firebrand because of his extreme recklessness
in fighting the Indians.</p>
<p>"I was just saying to Sandy that, since you
have been in the Seneca village several times,
you might tell us some of the things you saw
there. Is it a very large place; are the Senecas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
feeling bitter against the white settlers; and
what do they do when not on the warpath?"</p>
<p>"Both times that I was among the Seneca
lodges it was in disguise," smiled Kenton, always
ready to give information when it lay in
his power. "A friendly Indian decked me out
in paint and feathers, and, as I speak the language
almost as well as one of the natives, I
had little difficulty. I was supposed to be a
strolling Cayuga, and received as such."</p>
<p>"But on this present expedition you did not
venture to go in among the lodges, because of
the added danger, I suppose?" Bob asked,
deeply interested.</p>
<p>"Yes," Kenton continued; "one night we
stole past the guard, and scouted around; but
the dogs got scent of us, and we found it best
to leave in a hurry. There was more or less of
a row; but the Indians doubtless believed that
it had only been some bold wild animal that had
invaded the village in search of food. We easily
covered our tracks, and, after that, decided
to simply hang about, waiting for the coming
of Pontiac."</p>
<p>"Then you could not know anything about
our sister, or the location of Black Beaver's
lodge?" asked Sandy, in a disappointed tone.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p>
<p>"That is true," came the hunter's reply;
"but all that information we expect the
friendly Shawanee chief to pick up right now.
He knows his business, and, depend on it, his
report will cover the ground."</p>
<p>"I have always wanted to see the life of an
Indian village," Bob went on; "but so far the
chance has never come. Sandy, here, was a
prisoner once in a Shawanee camp; but, as he
was shut up in a wigwam until we managed to
get him away, he saw little of what went on.
As for me, I only had distant views of the place,
and my curiosity was far from satisfied."</p>
<p>"And, on my part, I know the life of the
Indian almost as well as I do that of my own
kind," said Kenton, thoughtfully. "Many
times have I spent a week among them, studying
their ways, which have always had a strange
fascination for me. Yes, one old chief was determined
to adopt me, and I even had to steal
away from his village as though I were a thief.
I have hunted with the red men; watched their
several dances in the seasons; learned many
of their secret ways of curing skins, and drying
meat for winter use; studied the magic that
their medicine men pretend to employ in healing
the sick, and casting out devils by all sorts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
of incantations and rattling of sacred gourds.
Once I even assisted in securing the venom of
the rattlesnake, which was to be used in poisoning
the flint arrowheads they expected to use
against their foes."</p>
<p>"I have heard of that more than once, but
never met any one who had really seen how it
was done," exclaimed Bob.</p>
<p>"Then I will tell you," Kenton immediately
remarked; "for, after all, it is a very simple
operation, though terrible enough. When all
preparations have been made an extra large
rattlesnake is found and brought to bay. As he
rests in his coils they proceed to provoke him,
by prodding with poles, until he is desperately
angry, and launches his flat head out again and
again, while his rattles buzz like a locust in the
bush."</p>
<p>"Oh! we have come across many a rattlesnake,"
observed Sandy, "and have fully a
dozen rattles at home to show for it. But they
always give me a creepy feeling. I just can't
help jumping every time I hear that dreadful
warning."</p>
<p>"Having enraged the snake enough," Kenton
went on, "a piece of liver is fastened to
the end of a pole, and this is thrust up close to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
the coiled rattlesnake, which strikes hard and
often at the meat. Later on this is allowed to
turn green with the virus, and in this way a
supply of poison is secured. But we ought to
feel glad, boys, that the custom of poisoning
arrows or spear points is as a rule frowned
down upon by nearly all the tribes, as being too
terrible. For, say what you will, I have found
that there is a certain sense of honor among
the redskins."</p>
<p>"Yes, we ought to be glad that is so," declared
Bob. "I've known quite a few who received
wounds from arrows shot from hickory
bows in the hands of Indians, and, had the tips
been dipped in poison, they would not now be
alive to tell the story."</p>
<p>"And I myself could show you marks where
the feathered barbs have torn my flesh," went
on the young borderer, calmly. "After watching
that operation with the serpent I was more
than a little uneasy the next time I received a
wound. But the red men themselves long ago
frowned down upon such a terrible process, so
we have little to fear in that quarter."</p>
<p>"Then it will be necessary, if Kate is rescued,
that the village be entered under cover of
darkness?" asked Bob.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p>
<p>"Without doubt that will be our plan," said
Kenton. "I have been thinking it over, and
arrived at a conclusion."</p>
<p>"Oh! please let us hear it!" exclaimed
Sandy, eagerly.</p>
<p>"We must wait for a windy night, as well as
a dark one," the frontiersman went on. "The
wilder it is, the more chance we have for success,
because we must set fire to the lodges, and
start a fierce blaze, so that during the excitement,
the girl can be taken away. After they
have put out the flames the Indians may believe
that Kate has just fled in fear of the danger."</p>
<p>"I understand what you mean," cried Sandy,
"and it strikes me that it is a wonderful plan.
It must succeed; only I'm sorry that we have
to wait. A windy night may be a long time in
coming; and how can we hold back?"</p>
<p>"Oh! at this changing season of the year
there are few times when the wind does not
blow, more or less," returned Kenton, reassuringly.
"Perhaps it may be to-night for aught
we know."</p>
<p>"Don't I just hope so," said the boy. "But
I wish you would let us go with you into the
village."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p>
<p>"I'm afraid that might be taking too many
risks," returned the borderer. "However, we
will see, later on. At least, I mean to ask Blue
Jacket to help me rig both of you out in paint,
so that, in case you are seen, discovery would
not necessarily follow."</p>
<p>"Oh! we have more than once done the same
ourselves, when playing Indian," said Bob,
readily; "and it will not be so hard to carry
out the part. But I trust that we may be given
a chance to see what the village of Kiashuta
looks like, while we wait for you to set the fires,
and carry our sister off."</p>
<p>"Sandy, if you do not mind, it is about time
we had something to eat," remarked Kenton,
turning with one of his rare smiles to the
younger pioneer lad. "The fire is smoldering,
and can be readily rekindled with a handful of
small stuff. This inaction does not keep one
from feeling hungry, it seems."</p>
<p>So Sandy, always ready to do his duty, scrambled
to his feet, and started toward the other
side of the wide cavern, stepping over the figure
of Abijah Cook, who was making up for lost
sleep while he had the chance.</p>
<p>Pat O'Mara had gone off on a hunt for the
day and had not returned.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
<p>Five seconds later and the voice of Sandy
rang out in wild alarm.</p>
<p>"Bob! Kenton! make haste, or he will get
away! It is Armand Lacroix, and he has
slipped his bonds! See, he is making for the
shelf! Oh! stop him, somebody!"</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXV<br />
<small>A BIRCH-BARK MESSAGE</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Even</span> while Sandy was shouting these thrilling
words, a figure flitted past Bob and Simon
Kenton. It was the agile Frenchman, and he
was making at full speed for the shelf where the
exit of the strange cavern lay.</p>
<p>Abijah Cook, aroused by the cries, scrambled
to his feet, being doubtless under the impression
that they had been attacked by a large
force of the dusky enemy, against whom his
hand had been pitted in continual warfare.</p>
<p>There was a collision, and the borderer measured
his length again on the stone floor of the
cavern. The fleeing form of Armand Lacroix
was just glimpsed as he shot around the corner
of rock that lay between the rear part of the
cave and the waterfall.</p>
<p>For once Kenton did not happen to have his
rifle with him, since he had no reason to dream
that he would need it. His first act had been to
leap wildly forward in the hope that he might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
yet snatch the weapon up before the Frenchman
could vanish beyond the outcropping of
rocks.</p>
<p>Bob had seen that, when Lacroix regained his
feet after his collision with Abijah, he held
something in his grasp that had not been there
before. It was the weapon of the big borderer,
which doubtless the cunning French trapper
had made up his mind to snatch up even before
he started to escape.</p>
<p>Kenton knew just where his own rifle was
leaning against the wall, and, as he reached the
spot, he snatched it up with a single movement.
Then he went flying after the figure of the
Frenchman, leaving the two boys dumb with
fear lest their plans were now doomed to utter
defeat.</p>
<p>Larue and his two companions had witnessed
with mingled feelings this dash for liberty on
the part of Lacroix. They exchanged many low
mutterings among themselves, and, while
neither of the boys could understand much
French, they felt sure that Larue was furious
because the other had not waited to cut their
bonds before dashing off, and thus giving them
a chance to escape also.</p>
<p>"Oh! what if he gets clear away?" said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
Sandy, when several minutes had passed, and
Kenton did not return.</p>
<p>"I hope that may not be," Bob remarked between
his set teeth. "For his first act will be
to bring the Senecas against us, and, even if
we managed to escape, think of what Kate's
fate would be."</p>
<p>"Hark!" cried Sandy, gripping his
brother's arm convulsively; "did you hear
that, Bob?"</p>
<p>"Surely," replied the other, endeavoring to
control his anxiety as best he was able. "It
was the report of a gun without a doubt;
though, under here, sounds come but faintly."</p>
<p>"Yes, but mark that there was only one
shot!" continued Sandy. "Whoever fired
that did not miss. If it was Kenton, then we
have no longer any need of fear lest we be betrayed;
but, should it have been Armand Lacroix,
perhaps we have lost our best friend,
and the whole frontier will mourn the death of
brave Simon Kenton."</p>
<p>They sat there waiting. The roar of the
waterfall was the only sound that came to their
ears. Both of them gripped their guns in nervous
hands, and had no heart to exchange further
words.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p>
<p>"Some one is coming," whispered Sandy,
suddenly.</p>
<p>"Yes," his brother added, as he raised his
musket so as to be ready for any emergency;
"I, too, saw a shadow flit past that bright spot
on the wall. Oh!"</p>
<p>Kenton suddenly stood before them. The first
thing Bob and Sandy noticed was that the
young borderer carried <i>two</i> guns! They could
easily guess the meaning of such a thing.</p>
<p>"Here is your rifle, Abijah!" said the returned
frontiersman, as he handed the weapon
over to his big companion; then he coolly
started to reload his own gun.</p>
<p>"But—Armand Lacroix, what of him?"
asked Sandy, appalled at the consciousness that
one of those dark tragedies, so common on the
border, must have just taken place.</p>
<p>"Fear no ill," said Simon Kenton, calmly.
"He will not betray us. We are safe yet a
while, my brave boys."</p>
<p>Nor would he utter another word at the time
to satisfy the terrible curiosity of the lads.
They could, however, easily picture what had
happened—how swiftly the athletic young borderer
had pursued the fleeing Frenchman, and,
coming in sight of him, perhaps just as Armand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>
Lacroix was about to use his gun, had taken
a shot himself. His well-known skill with firearms
had stood Kenton in good stead once
more.</p>
<p>Later on, Abijah told them how Kenton had
spent a few minutes in concealing all signs of
the tragedy, so that, in case any prowling Indians,
attracted by the rifle shot, came around
to ascertain what it meant, they would fail to
learn anything. Even the trail of himself and
the Frenchman from the waterfall to the scene
of the final meeting was utterly hidden as Kenton
backed once more in the direction of the
hidden cavern.</p>
<p>Sandy went on with his preparations for the
meal; but his hand was not quite so steady as
usual when he contemplated the tremendous
consequences that must have followed, had the
French trapper escaped.</p>
<p>It was difficult to realize that Armand Lacroix
would give them no more trouble; that
as he had lived, so had he finally died—by
violence.</p>
<p>They were yet eating, when silently Blue
Jacket entered the cavern, grave as was his
custom. Sandy was immediately wringing his
brown hand, and plying him with a multitude<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
of questions. So excited did the boy seem that
finally Kenton spoke to him rather sternly.</p>
<p>"Let me find out what has been done,
Sandy," he said. "Chief, did you discover
where the wigwam of Black Beaver is situated
in the village?"</p>
<p>"It lies at further edge, close to region of
rising sun," replied Blue Jacket, readily
enough; for, while he did not entertain the
same feeling toward Kenton that he had in his
breast for the Armstrong family, at the same
time he recognized, in this friend of the great
Colonel Boone, one who held the respect of all
hostile Indians on account of his dash and valor.</p>
<p>"Good. That will be of value to us when we
start the blaze going," declared the borderer;
"because the chances are ten to one that the
wind will be out of the west, and hence we can
begin work far away from that single lodge.
As the Indians rush toward the fire, to put it
out, they will leave the eastern side of the village
unguarded; then we can do what we have
planned, and disappear."</p>
<p>"Did you meet Pontiac?" asked Bob, who
could not forget his fears for Blue Jacket,
should such an encounter take place.</p>
<p>"Blue Jacket ask see um," replied the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
Shawanee; "when he exchange greetings with
chief, Silver Heels, whom he knows. Some
time, perhaps, Blue Jacket may yet follow in
footsteps of great Pontiac. If any one man
bind the tribes in big league to drive paleface
back beyond the hills, Pontiac do it. And the
heart of Blue Jacket beats true to his people."</p>
<p>"Did you take note of the village, so as to
know where to start the fire in case we are compelled
to adopt that method of confusion, under
cover of which Kate may be rescued?" Kenton
continued.</p>
<p>He purposely brought the name of the girl
into what he said, for he saw that the young
Shawanee winced at mention of firing the village.
Only his devotion to the Armstrong family
would induce him to thus play a double part,
and turn upon his own people.</p>
<p>"Blue Jacket did all that," came the answer
slowly, as though it were only with a great
effort that the Indian brought himself to confess
how he had spied on the Senecas, who were
allies of his own tribe.</p>
<p>"You do not think Pontiac suspected you, I
hope?" asked Kenton.</p>
<p>"Not so. Blue Jacket hide feelings. No can
tell what um think. Great sachem much pleased<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>
meet Blue Jacket. Say hear good report same.
Bob, Sandy, get chance see sister. Nobody
look, talk, Kate grind maize in stone. Come
'long again, find this on ground. Bring Bob,
him read trail of crazy fly on bark!" (<a id="Note_7b"></a><a href="#Note_7">Note 7.</a>)</p>
<p>To the astonishment and delight of the boys
he suddenly produced a small strip of birch
bark from his little ornamented bag where he
carried his flints, together with the paints which
were used to decorate his face when on the warpath,
and various other things dear to the heart
of a brave.</p>
<p>Upon the smooth inner surface of the tiny
roll of bark Kate had managed to write just a
few words, using the juice of the poke berry,
and perhaps a splinter of wood in place of a
quill.</p>
<div class='blockquot'>
<p>"Bob—Sandy, come and take me home to
mother. Kate."</p>
</div>
<p>Tears came unbidden into the eyes of both
boys as they saw these expressive words which
had been inscribed on the bark by their dear
little sister. They could read between the lines
the dumb pain of a heart nearly broken by the
extent of the terrible disaster that had befallen
the child.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p>
<p>Sandy, less able to contain his feelings than
his brother, did actually press the rude letter
to his boyish lips; nor was Kenton apt to think
any the less of the lad for this open exhibition
of grief. He knew the tender love that bound
together the three children of David Armstrong.</p>
<p>"Then you found a chance to talk with the
maiden, did you, Blue Jacket?" asked the borderer,
turning again to the Shawanee messenger.</p>
<p>"Blue Jacket stand by watching her grind in
mill. When no one look and none hear Blue
Jacket tell how Bob, Sandy come all way from
Ohio to save little papoose. Then drop piece of
bark, so can make marks for Bob. After some
time come again that way. Kate in wigwam,
bark lie on ground with trail of wounded fly on
back. It is well. She know we come soon. She
wait and be ready. Ugh!"</p>
<p>If they asked a score more questions they
would hardly have received further information.
In his own crude but effective way Blue
Jacket had told his story. It needed no embellishment.
The boys were able to mentally picture
just what had occurred, and it pleased
them to think that at least Kate knew of their
coming.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p>
<p>She would be able to dry her tears now, perhaps,
with her heart thrilled with this new
hope and expectation of a speedy rescue.</p>
<p>"I am glad to have a chance to help in saving
so brave a girl," remarked Kenton, as he fingered
the little roll of bark on which Kate had
sent her message. "What would the pioneers
be able to accomplish if it were not for such
valiant mothers, wives and daughters! If this
beautiful country is ever given over to the
whites, more than half of the credit will belong
to those who loaded the guns, while their men
fired them."</p>
<p>In turn Blue Jacket was told about the fate
of Armand Lacroix, for, of course, he quickly
counted one less among the bound figures lying
on the rocky floor. Not by the movement of a
facial muscle did he betray what he may have
thought; but Bob noticed that, when Kenton
was not looking, the young Shawanee cast several
glances of admiration in his direction.
Such a bold man as Simon Kenton could not
but excite the envy and admiration of every adventurous
spirit, be he white or red.</p>
<p>So it was that Colonel Boone made many
friends among the Indians, and, on one occasion,
when he fell into their power, instead of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>
putting him to death, they adopted him into the
tribe. He even lived among them for months.
Hearing that a heavy force was setting out to
destroy Boonesborough, and rendered desperate
by the fear that his friends and relatives
might thus be murdered, Boone had escaped,
and managed to rejoin his kindred in time to
assist in the defence of the settlement he had
himself started.</p>
<p>The afternoon dragged along. Pat O'Mara
came back from his hunt but brought no news.
Poor Sandy did nothing, Bob thought, but
growl, get up to walk around the confined space
of the cavern, lie down again in a vain attempt
to coax sleep to his eyes, and in all sorts of
ways proclaim his impatience.</p>
<p>But, by degrees, the time passed. They had
no means of telling the hour save as the shadows
lengthened; the sun-dial they depended on was
the dropping of the glowing day god behind the
western horizon. And, when it became apparent
that the twilight had actually changed into
darkness, Sandy breathed a sigh of satisfaction
in his brother's ear.</p>
<p>"Now it cannot be long!" he declared.
"Once darkness settles over the land, and
surely Kenton will bid us depart from this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>
place, which I never want to see again; for I
have lived and grown old here. But, oh! I only;
hope there will be plenty of wind! There, he
has gone out to see how things look. Let us
pray he returns to tell us the wind has risen."</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVI<br />
<small>THE WAR DANCE</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">What</span> of the weather?" asked Sandy, as
soon as Simon Kenton once more entered the
cavern.</p>
<p>"So far there is good reason to hope," replied
the borderer, cheerfully.</p>
<p>"You could not make me happier than by
saying that!" cried the young pioneer, the
anxious expression vanishing from his face.
"Then we can expect to get away from here,
and start things moving at the village of Kiashuta?
May we go now?"</p>
<p>"Not for several hours," said Kenton,
shaking his head.</p>
<p>"But the wind may die out by then; or something
else might happen to upset all our
plans?" urged the boy.</p>
<p>"Not much danger of that, Sandy," Bob
put in. "If the wind is blowing fairly now, it
will grow stronger before it dies out."</p>
<p>"Well said, Bob," declared the borderer;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>
"for it is bound to do that, as I know from the
look of the clouds. Blue Jacket, too, says a
storm is brewing, though it may not break until
early morning, so we need not fear that the
lodges will get wet, and refuse to burn. My
plan would be to start the fires just as the gale
begins to sweep down. With the rush of the
wind, and the roar of the flames, the reds will
be half crazy with fear."</p>
<p>He made sure that Blue Jacket was not close
by when he said this, because he knew how it
would make the young chief wince.</p>
<p>"But what about your plan for dressing us
all up to look like the Indians?" questioned
Bob.</p>
<p>"We may as well get at that now," Kenton
replied, promptly. "I've some paints in my
own ditty bag, and Blue Jacket will furnish
the rest. As we do not mean to be seen at
close quarters, it can be easily fixed. Come
here, both of you, boys, and let me begin
work."</p>
<p>In a short time the crafty hand of Kenton
had daubed enough paint over the faces and
hands of the boys to make them look like young
warriors of the Senecas. So long as they kept
well within the half shadows there would seem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>
to be little danger that their real identity would
be discovered.</p>
<p>Boylike, they rather enjoyed the strange experience.
Sandy would have been even willing
to venture into the village, and try to mingle
with the crowd, had Kenton given his permission;
but this the borderer was not likely to
do, since he knew what must follow.</p>
<p>After that the rangers decorated one another,
so that they too might pass for Seneca warriors
if they kept on their guard.</p>
<p>"You see," remarked Kenton, as they sat
there eating the evening meal, with only a torch
fastened on the wall to give them light, "one
thing that is going to help us a heap is the fact
that, just now, there are many strange Indians
in the Seneca village, more than I have ever
seen together, even in Old Chillicothe Town.
We can pass for some of those who have journeyed
far to listen to the words falling from
the lips of the great Pontiac."</p>
<p>An hour later, Sandy was electrified by observing
that the borderer had given a signal to
Blue Jacket, Abijah Cook and Pat O'Mara, at
the same time rising from his seat, where he
had been squatted cross-legged on the rocky
floor.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p>
<p>"It is time!" said Kenton, in a quiet tone,
though not a muscle in his whole body gave evidence
of excitement.</p>
<p>"At last!" sighed Sandy, as he hastened to
get on his feet, gripping his musket in his
fingers.</p>
<p>The borderer spoke a few last words, after
which he made both lads pledge themselves to
control their eagerness, and promise to obey
his orders.</p>
<p>Once out of the hateful cavern, and under the
trees, the boys looked about them. They had
had more or less experience as woodsmen,
young though they were, and it was no great
task for either Bob or Sandy to read the signs
in the heavens.</p>
<p>Clouds drifted across the sky, coming up out
of the west, so that only once in a while were
a few stars seen. The wind moaned fitfully in
the trees, and gave promise of increasing in
strength as the night grew older. Yes, just as
Kenton had declared, there was a storm in prospect,
though it might not break for several
hours.</p>
<p>Kenton immediately took the lead, though
Blue Jacket clung to his side as if to advise in
case the borderer needed assistance. But Kenton<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>
was really as much at home in the forest as
the red son of the wilderness. To him all signs
were plain to read. He knew just where the
Seneca village lay, and how long it was likely
to take them to reach it.</p>
<p>They had left the three Frenchmen bound in
the cavern. Larue had pleaded to be released,
vowing that not one of them would whisper to
the Indians concerning the presence of these
invaders in their midst. But Kenton refused
to take their word. He did not have a very
high opinion of these French Canadian trappers
as a whole; and feared lest the fellow
might betray them just to curry favor with
Pontiac, with whom he had quarrelled at the
council. Once they were well away, Blue Jacket
would find some means of communicating with
the Senecas, and tell them of the prisoners in
the secret grotto under the cataract.</p>
<p>In Indian file they started for the distant
lodges of the Senecas. Winding in and out of
the woods, as Kenton picked his course, they left
the stream behind them.</p>
<p>Two miles had been placed behind. The boys
had known for some time that they were approaching
the Seneca town. Lights could be
seen ahead, as of numerous fires. Sounds also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>
came to their ears—voices of warriors chanting;
the monotonous beating of the war drum,
known as a tomtom; barking of excited curs of
which every Indian village boasted its scores,
most of them wolf-like in their savage nature;
and even the loud laughter of half-grown Indian
boys, who were perhaps indulging in foot
races, or some other form of rivalry.</p>
<p>Closer still did Kenton lead them. Now and
then he would stop, and hold a few words of
whispered conversation with Blue Jacket, after
which, possibly, his course might change a trifle,
as he received advice.</p>
<p>Finally they lay down, and began to crawl
through the high grass and scattered weeds and
bushes. The hearts of the two boys were throbbing
with intense excitement. They could see
the numerous skin lodges every time they raised
their heads, and it thrilled Bob and Sandy to
realize that, in one of the many score before
them, the little lost sister might even then be
crouching, waiting in mingled hope and fear for
her brothers' coming.</p>
<p>Not once did either lad feel the slightest fear,
yet they knew well what was likely to be their
fate should the Indians discover their presence.
Spies they would be deemed, and, after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>
gantlet running, they might expect death at the
stake.</p>
<p>Finally they halted in the last cover on the
border of the village. Before them they saw
scores upon scores of Indians, gathering as if
in expectation of some great game or ceremony.</p>
<p>The crouching figures found space between
the drooping twigs of the bushy screen to observe
what was taking place.</p>
<p>Kenton whispered something in the ear of
Bob, who in turn passed the intelligence on to
his brother.</p>
<p>"War-dance!" was what he said, and both
lads eagerly watched to see the wonderful spectacle
of which they had so often heard, but up
to now never found a chance to observe.</p>
<p>A painted post had been driven into the
ground in the midst of the cleared space.
Around this the Indian braves and chiefs gathered,
all facing toward a common centre. Pontiac
and some of the visiting head men were
given places of honor on a rude platform, where
they could remain spectators. And the great
sachem was doubtless pleased at being able to
observe how his fiery words of exhortation had
decided Kiashuta and his warlike Senecas to
dig up the hatchet against the paleface invaders.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p>
<p>Fires and torches illuminated the scene, casting
their deep red glare upon the dusky boughs
of the surrounding pines, and upon the wild
multitude of warriors who, fluttering with
feathers, and bedaubed with bright paint, had
gathered for the celebration of the war-dance.</p>
<p>First of all Kiashuta himself leaped into the
circle, brandishing his tomahawk as if rushing
upon an enemy. In a loud voice he chanted his
own past exploits, after the customary boastful
way of an Indian, and then those of his departed
ancestors, whose memory he honored.</p>
<p>And, as he thus sang and shrieked, he acted
the scenes over again, sending forth the shrill
war-whoop with which the foe had so often
been terrorized, throwing himself into all the
postures of actual combat, striking the post as
though it were an enemy, and then tearing the
scalp from the head of an imaginary victim.</p>
<p>Long before he had completed his part in the
drama another chief had started in to excel
Kiashuta; and, by degrees, still more, chiefs
and braves, joined in the mad carnival of noise
and movement, until the sight was one that
neither of the young pioneers would ever forget
as long as he lived.</p>
<p>Finally, the whole assembly, as if fired with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>
sudden frenzy, rushed together into the ring,
leaping, stamping, whooping and shrieking.
They brandished knives and hatchets in the firelight,
hacking and stabbing the air in their great
excitement, while at intervals their cries arose
to such a pitch that they might have been heard
miles away over the lonely forest.</p>
<p>Kenton had undoubtedly witnessed this stirring
scene before, and possibly Abijah Cook
may also have had that experience; but the two
boys stared and trembled as the war-dance grew
more and more violent.</p>
<p>Finally the ceremony was over. Kiashuta
himself gave a signal that hushed the mad carnival
of noise. Once again it was possible for
those who lay back of the friendly screen of
grass and bushes to distinguish individual
sounds.</p>
<p>Bob heard his brother give a long sigh, close
to his ear. He knew how eager Sandy had always
been to witness strange sights and explore
the untracked wilderness. It was easy to understand
that the boy must consider that he had
just looked upon the most wonderful spectacle
that he would ever see in all the days of his life.</p>
<p>But they must not forget why they were
there. It had been with no desire to look upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>
any of the ceremonial dances of the Indians
that they had taken their lives in their hands,
and crept close to the borders of the hostile
village of the Iroquois. Kate—that was the
magic name by which they had been led over
hundreds of weary miles, scorning peril, and
laughing at all manner of privation.</p>
<p>Was the wind really strengthening, or did
Bob dream it simply because he wished for such
a thing to come about? Now that the racket
had died away as suddenly as it had arisen,
something like quiet settled down over the village,
with its warriors exhausted by the violence
of their fierce, assumed fury. And Bob,
listening, was sure the sound of the breeze in
the tops of the near-by pines had gained something
in volume.</p>
<p>He knew how the plans of Kenton had been
laid. There was nothing for either himself or
Sandy to do, save to remain where they were
placed, and wait until their allies had accomplished
their undertaking.</p>
<p>The white men were to start the blaze, because
it was asking too much of Blue Jacket
to expect him to set fire to the lodges of his
kind; but the young Shawanee chieftain had
agreed, on his part, to steal Kate from the wigwam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>
of Black Beaver, and bring her to the appointed
rendezvous.</p>
<p>But how long a time must elapse before the
excited owners of all these painted lodges would
settle down into quiet, so that operations could
begin? Sandy knew he must again possess his
soul in patience. He was just about to try to
whisper something in the ear of his brother
when he caught a low hiss.</p>
<p>Undoubtedly Kenton himself was responsible
for this warning. It signified that sudden danger
hung over their heads. Sandy flattened
himself out on the ground as though he were a
panther creeping up on its intended prey. And
in doing this his ear came so closely in contact
with the earth that he was enabled to hear the
swish of bushes, and the low patter of feet upon
the dead leaves in the forest behind them. Indians
were coming, running on the dog-trot for
which they have always been famous!</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVII<br />
<small>PONTIAC'S PERIL</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Closer</span> came the footfalls.</p>
<p>Bob almost held his breath, as he began to
fear that the approaching Indians must actually
step upon them, when discovery would of
necessity follow. It was a terrible moment of
suspense.</p>
<p>But Kenton had anticipated something of this
sort, it would seem, when he led his little expedition
into that patch of brush. The leading
figure turned abruptly aside when just about to
jump into the thicket, and those following at his
heels did likewise.</p>
<p>Bob, out of the tail of his eye, for he dared
not even move his head, counted seven warriors
go leaping past. They gave vent to tremendous
whoops as they thus burst into the
village, and, from the answering cries, it was
plain to be seen that they were envoys, sent
from some distant Indian settlement to Pontiac.</p>
<p>Again there was more or less noise and confusion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>
with dogs harking, and many voices
raised, asking what it all meant. The Indian
messengers were taken into the heart of the
village, where doubtless they secured an immediate
interview with Pontiac and the head
chiefs, after which they would be served a feast
of baked dog, provided for the occasion.</p>
<p>Once again Bob and his brother breathed
easy. It had, however, been a narrow escape,
and they felt that they had reason to feel thankful
because discovery was thus averted.</p>
<p>How Sandy would have liked to be able to
whisper what was passing through his mind;
but he had been warned against this by Kenton,
and realized that silence would add to their
chance of success.</p>
<p>They no longer lay flat on the earth, for, with
the change in conditions, Kenton led the way,
once more crouching on his knees, so as to look
through the little openings in the bushes.</p>
<p>The hour was growing late, and by degrees
they noted that the crowds had begun to disappear
from the open spaces between the numerous
lodges that went to make up the great
village of Kiashuta and his branch of the Seneca
tribe. Already had all the squaws vanished
from sight, as well as the numerous papooses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>
and the half-grown boys who had been allowed
to witness this wild dance in the hope that it
might inspire them with a desire to emulate the
fighting warriors as they grew older.</p>
<p>"Listen—the wind!"</p>
<p>Sandy could not help saying this into the ear
of his brother, taking advantage of some noise
close by, which he believed would muffle the
sound of his voice.</p>
<p>Bob had not been unmindful of the fact that
the pine tops were now swaying before the
breeze. They no longer sighed and moaned,
but there was a decided "swish" as they
strove to hold their heads up before the rising
gusts.</p>
<p>Kenton, too, had taken note of this fact. He
knew that it was time he and Abijah and Blue
Jacket were going. They must make a detour,
and yet arrive on the scene of their contemplated
labors before the storm broke.</p>
<p>Bob and Sandy did not attempt to follow.
Their duty was to lie still where they were
until the alarm was given, and, with the flashing
up of numerous fires, to retreat to a certain
spot where five chestnuts grew in a clump.
Here they would be joined, not only by the two
scouts, but by Blue Jacket as well, and the latter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
was expected to bring with him the little captive
girl, their sister Kate.</p>
<p>Kenton and his companion would have a dangerous
mission. They intended to apply the
blazing torch to as many of the lodges on the
windward side of the village as they possibly
could, so that the fire would get such a start
that it could not possibly be put out before much
damage had been done.</p>
<p>Of course, while they were thus running
hither and thither, thrusting their firebrands
this way and that, they took chances of being
impaled on the spear of some furious brave, or
feeling a tomahawk come crashing down upon
their heads; but so often had they dared such
risks that they gave it slight heed now.</p>
<p>Left alone, the young pioneers began to feel
the responsibility of their position. There, just
before them, lay the great Indian village, with
its hundreds of people, and its scores upon
scores of lodges, in each of which rested those
who were now declared enemies to the whites.</p>
<p>True, there might be found a few whose skins
were not red; but their hearts were even
blacker than that of any Indian, for such renegades
as Simon Girty hated their own kind as
venomously as so many snakes would have done.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>
Driven out of the settlements along the border
for various crimes, they had joined their fortunes
with the savages, and at all times distanced
the most cruel and crafty Indian in their
treacherous conduct toward the pioneers.</p>
<p>There was no one close enough now to catch
a low whisper, so that Sandy, who felt that he
must express his feelings or burst, took occasion
to say in the ear of the other:</p>
<p>"Can you give a guess where Black Beaver's
lodge lies, Bob?"</p>
<p>Now, that was a matter to which the other
had himself given more or less attention. When
he surveyed the numerous skin shelters, with
their three poles sticking up out of the hole at
the top, where the smoke of the fire came forth,
he had kept in mind what Blue Jacket told him
about the symbolic and crude paintings
with which Black Beaver had decorated his
tepee.</p>
<p>"When the fires burned their brightest I
thought I saw it away off yonder to the right,"
he answered, in the same cautious tone that
would be utterly unheard five feet away, especially
while that breeze rustled the waving
branches of the overhanging trees.</p>
<p>"Yes, that is to the east, and he said it lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>
there," continued Sandy. "But try to tell me
which it was. Can you make it out still, Bob?"</p>
<p>"I think so," replied the other, who knew
that Sandy simply wished to feast his hungry
eyes on the wigwam thus picked out, and try to
imagine that he could see the loved form of
little Kate beyond its painted walls.</p>
<p>"Look closely," he went on, softly, "and
notice that large lodge with the buffalo and
the hunter. There, a fire just blazed up, and
you can see it plainly. Now, the third one beyond
has a double border of pictures on the
skin. When the light was good I could see
them plainly, and I am sure they are just what
Blue Jacket told me Black Beaver had decorated
his lodge with."</p>
<p>"I see which one you mean, Bob, thank you."
And again Sandy sighed as he glued his eyes
on that particular wigwam, which he believed
contained the lode-star that had guided him
through all the perils hovering in the woods
between the Ohio and the Great Lakes.</p>
<p>Then Sandy fell silent again. Several times
he gave a quick gasp, as he fancied he caught
some movement in the vicinity of that very
lodge. Could it be their faithful friend, Blue
Jacket, hovering about, and making ready to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>
strike when the wild alarm called the young
Seneca chief hurrying from his lodge to assist
in fighting the devouring flames?</p>
<p>Bob believed that enough time had now
elapsed to allow the others to reach the stations
assigned to them. That the blazing torch
of the incendiary was not already in evidence
he believed due to one or two causes.</p>
<p>First, Kenton may have concluded that there
were still too many warriors moving about in
the village. They would be in a position to attack
the holders of the firebrands, and, worse
luck still, to put out the fire before it had gained
sufficient headway.</p>
<p>Then again, the storm, while growling in the
distance, did not show signs of bursting upon
the lake shore immediately, and its presence
was very essential, in order to make the havoc
so tremendous that the terrified Indians could
think of nothing save the wild fight to prevent
the whole village from going up in flames and
smoke.</p>
<p>"Hist! yonder come two Indians this way!
Be silent!"</p>
<p>Bob gave this warning because he did not
know what moment his brother might attempt
to communicate with him again, for Sandy always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>
found it hard work to keep a still tongue
in his head.</p>
<p>Just as he had said, a couple of Indians were
walking slowly in their direction, seemingly in
deep conversation.</p>
<p>Sandy nudged his brother in the side, and
managed to whisper, despite the warning he
had received:</p>
<p>"One is Pontiac himself!"</p>
<p>But Bob had before now discovered this fact
for himself; also that the companion of the
great sachem was no other than the warlike
Seneca chief, Kiashuta. Perhaps Pontiac intended
leaving the village at daybreak, in order
to proceed on his travels, stirring up hatred in
the breasts of every tribe he visited. And there
were many things he wished to communicate
to his red brother ere he went away.</p>
<p>They came to a stand not more than forty
feet away from the bushes behind which the
two Armstrong boys crouched. Sandy had
even feared lest they meant to enter the forest
at that particular point, and in so doing might
stumble on the pair of young spies hiding there.</p>
<p>But Bob had seen that they were really heading
for a log that happened to be lying in the
open. Upon this they sat down, and for some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>
little time Pontiac continued to speak in low
but earnest tones. It might be he was finding
out just how many armed warriors Kiashuta
could throw into the field at short notice, when
the signal belt reached him that the confederated
tribes had risen in their might.</p>
<p>Bob wished they would finish their palaver,
and depart. He feared that, should Kenton
take a notion to start operations, the presence
of these two chiefs so near the hiding-place of
himself and Sandy might interfere with their
withdrawal, according to the plans laid out.</p>
<p>Again Sandy nudged him to indicate something;
but it was only that Kiashuta had arisen
and hurried away, going direct to the large
lodge in the centre of the village that marked
the wigwam of the head chief.</p>
<p>Pontiac remained seated, with his back almost
directly toward the spies. His air was
thoughtful, as though the weight of many problems
rested heavily upon his mind.</p>
<p>By this time the boys had grown accustomed
to the sight of the most famous of all Indian
chiefs. His presence no longer inspired them
with that sensation of awe such as had marked
their first glimpse of the magic leader, as he
addressed the council under the sacred oak.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p>
<p>"I hope he goes away soon!" whispered
Sandy, unable to keep utterly still.</p>
<p>"Perhaps we can back out slowly, an inch at
a time," answered his brother; for the storm
was muttering louder now, and seemed on the
point of developing without much waste of time.
He began to follow his words with action, wriggling
backward, and being careful not to stir
the bushes in the least.</p>
<p>Sandy, realizing that his brother was actually
moving, also began to work his way back.
An inch at a time, if continued for a certain distance,
would allow of their making better progress,
until they could finally rise to their feet,
and glide off to the rendezvous of the five chestnuts.</p>
<p>He was alongside Bob, and still wriggling
along, keeping his eyes in the direction where
that kingly figure sat upon the log, when the
older boy felt his fingers gripping his arm.</p>
<p>Sandy did not utter a single word; perhaps
he could not find his voice to do so, he was so
shocked by what he had suddenly discovered.
Bob, catching some of the same spirit, simply
shut his hands tight together, and held his
breath, while a low whispered "Oh!" fell from
his parted lips.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p>
<p>Just behind the sitting form of Pontiac a
bending figure was creeping, and an uplifted
hand clutched a terrible club, which the
would-be assassin undoubtedly meant to bring
down with cruel force on the unprotected head
of the war sachem. And to his intense astonishment
Bob recognized in this creeping figure
Jacques Larue, whom they had left tied hand
and foot in the cascade cavern!</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII<br />
<small>WHEN ALL SEEMED LOST</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Sandy Armstrong</span> was an impulsive boy, as
has been shown more than once in these pages.</p>
<p>He often acted on a sudden inspiration, and
without weighing matters over in his mind.
This disposition to do things on the spur of the
moment was a part of his nature, and did not
spring from the mere fact that he was a lad;
for his brother Bob had no such failing.</p>
<p>Kenton had seen it in Sandy, and it aroused
a fellow-feeling in the breast of the famous
borderer for the young pioneer, because he himself
had many times been taken to task by
Daniel Boone for showing the same weakness.</p>
<p>Sandy only saw that a scoundrel was creeping
up behind a brave man with the intention
of doing him a deadly injury. Little he considered
that Pontiac towered head and shoulders
above every Indian foe the struggling settlers
in the wilderness might ever know, and that his
untimely death would really be a blessing to
the entire white race.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></p>
<p>Horror filled his young soul at the dastardly
nature of the revengeful Larue's intentions.
The pondering sachem was utterly ignorant of
the presence of an enemy, as he sat there on
that log, waiting for the return of the Seneca
chief. Even then the French trapper was
towering over the bent figure, his hands grasping
that club, as he summoned all his strength
for the blow, meaning to make short work of his
enemy.</p>
<p>The public insult which Pontiac had put upon
him doubtless rankled in the heart of the
Frenchman. Making his escape from the cavern,
where he had been left apparently securely
tied hand and foot, he must have headed for
the Indian village in order to betray the plans
of the invaders. Then, suddenly discovering
the great leader of the tribes seated there alone,
an overmastering desire for revenge took complete
possession of him.</p>
<p>Bob was himself almost frozen with horror
as he saw the drama that was being played
there before his eyes. He wanted to shout out,
and at least warn Pontiac, so that the chief
might have a chance for his life; but somehow
it seemed as though his tongue clove to the roof
of his mouth.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p>
<p>Then came a loud report. It was so close to
his ear that it almost deafened Bob; but he was
conscious of the fact that his brother must have
fired the shot.</p>
<p>Sandy had indeed fired, just as he saw the
burly Frenchman about to bring down his club
on the unprotected head of the sachem.</p>
<p>As we know, the boy of the Ohio river cabin
was a splendid shot with that old musket which
he carried; but even at such a time he could
not find it in his heart to attempt the life of a
white man, however much Larue merited such
a fate. Consequently he endeavored to prevent
the Frenchman's crime by sending a bullet
through his uplifted arm.</p>
<p>Instantly all was confusion. It was as though
that crash of a gun sounded the signal for an
immediate upheaval. Larue's arm fell to his
side as, in a panic, he dropped the club, and
tried to turn for flight. Pontiac was already
on his feet, and, grasping the situation, a yell
pealed from his lips as he flung himself boldly
upon the back of the French trapper, bearing
him to the ground, where they struggled like a
couple of angry wolverines.</p>
<p>Scores of braves dashed wildly from their
lodges, some calling, others answering, and all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>
running hither and thither like a pack of hounds
searching for a lost trail.</p>
<p>Bob was dazed by what had happened. He
realized that probably it meant the complete
blocking of the bright plans which their friend,
Simon Kenton, had arranged for the rescue of
little Kate.</p>
<p>Had Sandy been to blame? Should the reckless
boy have restrained his impulse to shoot
down the wretch who would slay the great Indian
leader in cold blood?</p>
<p>It was no time to ask such questions. They
were themselves in great danger. The warriors
were constantly widening their circles as
they ran, and at any moment one of them might
discover the crouching figures of the young
pioneers in the grass and weeds.</p>
<p>"Back out, Sandy! Quick, or all is lost!"
Bob managed to whisper hoarsely in the ear of
his comrade.</p>
<p>Doubtless Sandy realized how his act was
likely to result. Had he been content to allow
matters to take their course Pontiac would ere
now have been hurried on his way to the Happy
Hunting Grounds of the red men; and all this
confusion avoided.</p>
<p>It was too late for vain regrets. The thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>
was done, and all that remained for them now
was to try to escape. If they could manage to
get off undiscovered they might effect a reunion
with the others, and hide in the forest,
waiting for another opportunity to come.</p>
<p>So they started to push backward, hoping
that fortune might be kind enough to allow
them to reach the thick timber, where it would
be easy to glide away unseen by the keen eyes
of the red searchers.</p>
<p>Around Pontiac a dozen warriors had clustered.
They seemed to understand that a desperate
effort had been made to kill the great
sachem, whose words had so recently thrilled
them in the grand council; for all accounts
agree in saying that no Indian ever spoke as
did this gifted orator, Pontiac.</p>
<p>Larue was struggling in the hands of several
furious braves. They would have made short
work of the treacherous Frenchman only that
the voice of Pontiac himself prevented his summary
execution.</p>
<p>"Lay no hand on him in anger, warriors!"
he called out. "Let him be taken to the strong
lodge and there kept fast until your chief can
decide his fate. It is the will of Pontiac; let
none refuse to obey!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p>
<p>After that no one dared strike the prisoner,
who was dragged away shrieking, and wildly
defying the man he hated.</p>
<p>All this excitement was in the favor of the
two boys. It gave them a better opportunity to
push further away from the dangerous vicinity
of the log upon which the visiting sachem had
been seated when so rudely disturbed by that
shot. And it goes without saying that both lads
wasted not a second of time in trying to gain
the shelter of the woods.</p>
<p>They knew that Kenton must have been discouraged
in his plans by this unexpected happening,
because there came no sudden alarm of
fire, though the wind was already strong enough
to have answered his purpose. Perhaps he
fancied that, through some unfortunate freak
of fate, Bob and his brother had fallen into the
power of the Indians; that heavy gunshot
would seem to indicate as much, since few
among the Senecas carried firearms.</p>
<p>While all these things had happened very
rapidly, and it could not have been more than
three minutes since Sandy fired; still, the time
seemed tenfold as long to the retreating boys.
Finally they reached the shelter of the heavier
timber, and breathed a sigh of relief.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p>
<p>In those early days the settlers had a saying
to the effect that "a white man should not
shout until he was out of the woods, nor an Indian
until he had gained their shelter." When
Bob and his brother experienced a sense of
safety after finally reaching the timber, they
counted without their host.</p>
<p>Flitting figures were around them, though
they knew it not, some of the Indians having
hastened away at the first alarm, under the impression
that it meant an attack on the part of
the whites.</p>
<p>These braves flattened themselves against
the earth, and lay like logs until the boys,
straightening up, started to glide away. Then
there was a whoop, a sudden springing into life
of the dusky figures, and, before either Bob or
Sandy could make a single effort at self-defence,
they were borne down under the weight
of their enemies, who were not deceived by
the paint with which they had covered their
faces.</p>
<p>With hearts as heavy as lead the brave boys
were conducted into the village, now a seething
volcano. Word had gone around of the base
attempt on the life of the sachem who had
long been the idol of so many tribes; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>
looked upon as the leader sent by the great
Manitou to drive the rash white men back into
the sea whence they came.</p>
<p>Every minute the indignation increased.
They saw in the act a dark plot to cut them
off from the leadership of the only general who
had ever been able to make an alliance between
a dozen tribes, and unite them against the common
enemy.</p>
<p>The open space which, but a few minutes before,
had been entirely vacant, save for the
presence of Pontiac and Kiashuta, was now a
seething sea of jostling braves, waving their
hatchets and knives, and demanding summary
vengeance on the treacherous snakes who had
crawled into their midst with such base designs
in their hearts.</p>
<p>Sandy shrank back, appalled at the terrible
sight. Bob bore himself a little more bravely,
though his heart, too, was cold with dread.</p>
<p>"Bob, forgive me!" cried Sandy, filled with
remorse because again had his hasty action
brought them to the verge of disaster. "I was
a fool to do what I did; but I did not stop to
think. I only saw that scoundrel about to kill a
defenceless man, and something urged me to
prevent the murder. I deserve all that is coming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>
to me. If only you could be spared I
wouldn't complain."</p>
<p>"Stop that sort of talk, Sandy," answered
the other, hoarsely. "I am not worrying over
what will happen to me. All I regret is that
now Kate will not have any chance to escape.
And poor mother will be heartbroken because
all of her children have been taken from her."</p>
<p>"Oh! fool! fool that I was!" moaned
Sandy, bitterly. "Father always warned me
that some day my hasty nature would play me
an ill turn. What do you suppose they will do
with us now? Some of these braves look so
ugly that I do not think we will ever live to see
the sun rise again."</p>
<p>"Wait," said Bob, with a trace of encouragement
in his voice; but whether he only spoke
in this manner to comfort his younger brother,
or because he really saw a sudden gleam of
hope, Sandy could not guess.</p>
<p>When Bob uttered this one word his eyes
were fastened upon the face of Pontiac, who
was thoughtfully surveying the prisoners. And
perhaps it was something he saw in the countenance
of the renowned sachem that encouraged
the boy.</p>
<p>Threatening braves pushed around them;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>
tomahawks were waving in the air above their
heads; and awful shouts sounded in their ears.</p>
<p>Sandy closed his eyes, as though unable to
face the doom which he feared was so close.
Doubtless in that moment of suspense his mind
flew to that dear cabin far away, where he knew
his mother must be waiting every day for the
safe return of her children, and praying that
they might be spared to her.</p>
<p>A groan burst from his lips; but it did not
spring from fear of the fate that hung over his
own head.</p>
<p>"Kate! Mother! Oh! Heaven help them!"
Sandy said, again and again.</p>
<p>Still Bob watched the great leader. He
seemed to divine that, if help came at all to himself
and his brother, it must spring from Pontiac
alone. And when he saw the chief suddenly
push forward toward the struggling group,
where the excited braves were jostling each
other about, each anxious to have the glory of
finishing the young captives, he had faith to
believe that all was not yet over.</p>
<p>Now the voice of Pontiac was heard again,
and as before commanding that none dare to
injure the prisoners until permission were
given.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p>
<p>He stood in front of them now, so close that,
had Bob been free to use his arms, and dared,
he might have put out a hand and touched the
person of the sachem. Long and earnestly did
Pontiac look them over. Wonder marked his
face when he saw that they were but half-grown
lads, striplings who had better have been safe
in their cabin far away, rather than here in a
hostile land, with a thousand mortal foes
around them.</p>
<p>Then Pontiac turned to the heaving crowd of
painted warriors, with every wild eye fastened
upon his face.</p>
<p>"These paleface boys carry no arms," he
said. "Some warrior has the gun of each.
Let them bring to me the shooting sticks, that
I may examine them!"</p>
<p>And, as he heard these words, somehow the
heart of Bob gave a leap for joy.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXIX<br />
<small>THE WORD OF AN INDIAN CHIEF</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">What</span> is he going to do, Bob?" demanded
Sandy, who had opened his eyes, after a minute
or so had passed without the expected blow,
and who heard Pontiac's demand that the guns
of the prisoners be handed to him without understanding
what the meaning of the order
could be.</p>
<p>"Watch and see!" replied Bob, in a husky
voice, and without taking his eyes off the
sachem a second. He himself, as yet, had only
a vague suspicion concerning any benefit that
might spring from this action on the part of
Pontiac.</p>
<p>Almost as in a dream, then, Sandy saw first
one musket thrust out to the famous chieftain,
and then the second. Pontiac examined them
eagerly, and, after handling the gun belonging
to Bob, once more gave it back into the possession
of the keeper. But, as he raised that which
Sandy himself had owned, a look of intelligence
flashed across the dark face of the Indian.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p>
<p>He even raised the musket to his nose as
though to smell the odor of burnt powder that
must have still clung to it after the recent discharge.
Then he turned upon the two young
prisoners.</p>
<p>"Yours?" he demanded, his flashing eyes
fastened on the astonished face of Sandy, just
as though he had been able to read the nature
of both lads in that single earnest look, and understood
how impulse swayed one more than
the other.</p>
<p>Sandy might have wished to deny all ownership
of the weapon; but somehow he was unable
to do so, with those impelling eyes fastened
upon him. So, still unable to use his tongue,
he simply nodded his head.</p>
<p>"You shoot at French trader?" continued
Pontiac.</p>
<p>Another nod in the affirmative answered him;
and then Bob saw a change begin to spread
over the dark features of the chief. He looked
at Sandy; but his brother failed to grasp the
wonderful meaning of the miracle that had been
wrought in their behalf. To his mind all
this talk only served as a forerunner to the
dreadful fate that was surely to be their
portion.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></p>
<p>"Why white boy shoot French trapper?"
asked Pontiac.</p>
<p>Realizing that Sandy was unable to frame a
coherent reply, Bob boldly took it upon himself
to make answer.</p>
<p>"You ask why, great Pontiac?" he said.
"Because he could not lie there and see a cowardly
snake creep up behind a brave man to
strike him in the back. He sent his lead into
the arm that held the warclub, and saved the
life of Pontiac!"</p>
<p>Then, Indian though he was, the great Pontiac
smiled. Perhaps he understood how these
paleface boys must have known that, if the
traitorous Frenchman had been allowed to carry
out his will, it would have been much to the advantage
of the border settlements; but that
Sandy, unable to control his impulse to rebuke
such rank treachery as Larue exhibited, had
been unable to hold his fire.</p>
<p>Pontiac turned to the surging crowd of Indians.
He held up his hand, and every shout
was stilled; even the murmuring ceased, such
was his magnetic influence over the wild spirits
of hot-headed young warriors whom their own
chiefs could not restrain.</p>
<p>"Listen!" he said, in a voice that reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>
easily to the further extremity of the gathered
throng. "Pontiac sat on yonder log. Your
chief Kiashuta had left him to seek for something
that was in his lodge. In the mind of
Pontiac many things dwell to give him cause
for thought. He heard not the coming of the
snake in the grass who crawled up behind, and
swung aloft the club with which he expected to
dash out the brains of a chief.</p>
<p>"Listen. In the bushes and the grass lay
two paleface boys. They had guns. They had
come many miles from their cabin on the running
water to the south. They had no reason
to love Pontiac, who has ever been the enemy
of their race; but they had hate in their hearts
for a snake that could sting in the heel. So,
quickly did this gun speak. The arm that was
raised fell helpless. And then Pontiac closed
with the treacherous Frenchman.</p>
<p>"Listen yet again, warriors. Had it not
been for this paleface boy, where now would be
your leader? How could Pontiac strike the
flint that will make the whole border blaze with
fires, if he lay here on this ground, dead?"</p>
<p>He looked around him as though expecting
an answer; but not a single voice was raised.
Slowly the truth was penetrating the brains of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>
those who heard. They understood that, no
matter what his motive may have been, the
paleface boy had saved the famous chieftain to
those who hung upon his every look or word,
as though he had charmed them with his magic.</p>
<p>"Release them!" Pontiac continued, making
an imperious gesture toward the warriors who
were clutching the two lads; and immediately
they hastened to obey his will. "They belong
to Pontiac; let one of you from this hour lay
so much as a finger on them at his peril!"</p>
<p>When Sandy heard these words he seemed
to regain his power of speech once more, for he
clutched Bob's arm convulsively as soon as he
found himself free, and exclaimed:</p>
<p>"Bob, do you hear that? He says we are
his prisoners, and that we will not be harmed!
Oh! if only we could get him to give us Kate
now, what a blessed thing it would be! Perhaps
after all, Bob, my hasty nature did better
for us than all the planning. Ask him if he
will help us, won't you, Bob? 'Strike while the
iron is hot,' father always says. Speak to him,
now."</p>
<p>But Bob held back, for he saw that the chief
had more to say, since he was once again turning
toward them. To the delight of the boys he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>
gravely held out his hand, white man fashion,
for Pontiac had been brought up among the
French, and knew almost as much of the white
men's ways as though he had been born a paleface.</p>
<p>"We are friends," he said, as he pressed
each hand firmly. "You have saved the life of
Pontiac. Ask what favor you will, and, if it is
in his power, so shall it be granted. First tell
me what you seek, so far away from your
home?"</p>
<p>"In a cabin, where the swift water runs between
the hills, lives our mother," said Bob.
"Our father has gone over the big hill to Richmond
to bring back with him some of the things
a white woman needs. Besides my brother and
myself, there was one child, a sweet girl, about
so high," and he held his hand below his
shoulder to indicate that his sister was much
shorter than himself.</p>
<p>Pontiac bowed his head gravely to indicate
that he understood what the boy was saying.</p>
<p>"One day there came some Senecas to the
settlement," Bob went on, eagerly. "They,
held up their hands in the peace sign, and we
met them as friends. They told us they had
been on a long journey into Kentucky, to visit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>
another tribe. They were without tobacco, and
their stock of maize had dwindled low. We
gave them of each, enough to last until they
could reach their lodges on the Great Lakes.</p>
<p>"But one young Seneca, who bore the
feather of a chief in his hair, looked long on
the sweet face of the white girl. He remembered
that in his lodge, far away, no longer the
voice of his own sister was heard; and that the
old squaw, his mother, mourned each day for
the one who was not.</p>
<p>"So he made up his mind to steal the paleface
girl, and bear her away to the village of
the Senecas on the big water to the north.
When my brother and myself were in the forest
hunting for meat he stole our sister away. We
have followed him from the rushing Ohio to the
Great Lakes. Our sister is here. Will the
great Pontiac keep his word by giving her back
to our charge, and letting us depart for the
cabin where a mother mourns?"</p>
<p>Bob knew how to put the case before the one
who must be their judge, so that, as an Indian,
Pontiac could grasp it readily; and he saw
from the face of the other that he had succeeded
in his effort. When an Indian gives his
word it is ever afterward sacred.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></p>
<p>"Listen!" said the chief, impressively.
"Look around you. There are many Senecas
here, braves and chiefs. Does the paleface boy
see the one who took tobacco and maize from
the white man's hand, and then stole his
daughter?"</p>
<p>"Yes!" exclaimed Sandy, finding his voice.
"I saw him just then, among those Indians
yonder. There, he is trying to steal away;
for he fears the frown of the great and just
Pontiac. It is Black Beaver!"</p>
<p>The young chief, seeing that escape was useless,
returned, and, standing before Pontiac,
folded his arms across his naked chest. Words
in the Indian tongue passed quickly between
them. Black Beaver seemed defiant at first;
but presently he came under the persuasive
eloquence of the marvellous orator. He let his
chin fall on his breast, and finally, when Pontiac
dismissed him with an imperious gesture,
the subdued young chief stalked away, heading
straight for his wigwam.</p>
<p>"When he comes back he will bring the
white girl," said Pontiac. "She shall go with
the brave young boys who have sought her so
far; and not a warrior will lift a hand to do
them harm. More than this, because of what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>
you have done this night, you and your family
are forever the friends of Pontiac. Danger
and death will never come near your cabin
while he lives. There will be a dead line drawn
about it, and woe to the Indian who molests the
friends of the chief. I have spoken!"</p>
<p>Loudly did his voice ring out as he said these
thrilling words that would never be forgotten
by either of the two lads as long as they lived.
And far and wide would the command be sent
that the little brood of David Armstrong was
to be immune from all the perils of an Indian
war, even though flame and destruction
swooped down upon their nearest neighbor.</p>
<p>"Look! he is coming back, and our sister is
with him!" cried Sandy, unable to restrain his
delight at sight of the one they loved so dearly.</p>
<p>Black Beaver did not show any emotion as he
drew near. He realized that, when Pontiac
spoke, it was for him to obey. And as a true
Indian, he was ready to accept the fortunes of
war, no matter how it hurt.</p>
<p>The Indians made a passage-way to allow
them to approach. Pontiac himself took the
trembling hand of the frightened girl, and led
her to where her two gallant brothers stood
with outstretched arms.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></p>
<p>"Weep no more, paleface girl. You are going
home to the white squaw who mourns in the
cabin on the bank of the swift water," said
Pontiac, as he released her in front of the boys.</p>
<p>Another instant and Kate, with a cry of joy,
had flung her arms about the neck of first one
brother and then the other, while Pontiac stood
and watched the happy reunion without his
face expressing the feelings that must have
been struggling in his heart; for so has an Indian
been trained never to betray emotion.</p>
<p>How like magic had the scene been changed!
Only a few minutes before and poor Sandy was
deeply dejected, in the belief that his hasty
and ill-advised act had forever ruined their
only chance for a rescue. And now they stood
there, not only free, and with their dear sister
given into their charge, but safe in the pledged
friendship of the most powerful of all Indians,
Pontiac himself.</p>
<p>"It seems like a dream, Bob!" cried Kate.
"I can hardly believe it to be true. How did
you manage it, you and dear Sandy? Oh! how
happy I am to think that soon I shall see my
own mother again! Not that Black Beaver has
been cruel to me. He tried to be a brother after
his way. I am sorry for him; but there is no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>
one can take the place of father, mother, Bob
and Sandy."</p>
<p>"In good time you will hear it all, Kate,"
said Bob. "It is a strange story. But I wonder
whether Pontiac will extend his favor to
our good friends who have come with us to try
and influence Black Beaver to give us back our
sister. The whites and the Senecas are at
peace, for the hatchet has not yet been dug up
between them, so we hoped to win Kiashuta to
our side; to have him say that Black Beaver
had done wrong when he smote the hand that
fed him."</p>
<p>Pontiac heard what he said, for he immediately
gave the assurance Bob requested.</p>
<p>"If others have come with you to bring the
white girl back, they, too, shall not be harmed
until they have reached the swift water. Because
they are your friends, Pontiac has said
this. So let them appear. They shall walk
among us in safety, for the word of the chief
is given."</p>
<p>But, though Bob raised his voice and called,
none of the other four cared to accept the invitation
to come into the village and meet the
sachem of the Sacs.</p>
<p>Perhaps it was just as well. Both Simon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>
Kenton and Pat O'Mara were well-known Indian
fighters, and belonged to a class of men
who threatened to be thorns in the side of Pontiac
in his ambitious designs to head a new confederation
of tribes.</p>
<p>Doubtless they would be quickly recognized
by some of the Indians present from other
tribes; and even the word of Pontiac might not
keep these warriors from seeking to avenge
their kin who had fallen in times past before
the rifles of Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton and
their fellow borderers.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXX<br />
<small>SAFE AT LAST</small></h2>
<p>"<span class="smcap">We</span> must get away from here without delay,
Sandy," said the elder of the young pioneers,
after exchanging a few more words with
Pontiac.</p>
<p>"Shall we accept the offer of Pontiac,"
asked Sandy, "and make for the river under
the guard of his men?"</p>
<p>"No," replied Bob, quickly; "for many reasons
that must not be. He has promised to
give us a totem flag that will warn any wandering
band of Indians we may happen to meet
that we are friends of the great Pontiac, and
must not be disturbed. And I have promised
him that it shall always be kept in our own
cabin, only to be shown in case of any uprising."</p>
<p>"Then we must try to find Kenton, Pat and
Blue Jacket?" questioned Sandy, who was
fairly wild to be away; for he seemed to fear
lest their late good fortune turn out to be a
dream, from which they might be rudely awakened.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span></p>
<p>"Yes," Bob went on; "and if we go soon I
believe we will run across them at the place
Kenton appointed. They will wait there for us
the balance of the night, I feel sure."</p>
<p>"What do you think they believed must have
happened, Bob?" Kate in turn asked.</p>
<p>"Who can say?" her brother answered,
shaking his head, as though puzzled. "Fancy
how astonished they must have been when all
this racket broke out, before they could make
ready to start the fires, or Blue Jacket get
among the lodges to steal Kate, here, away.
And then, if Kenton was near enough to see
Pontiac take our hands in his, how he must
have stared!"</p>
<p>"But it seems all for the best, to me," said
Sandy, softly; "even my foolish rashness in
firing without thinking. We have made a
powerful friend in Pontiac, and perhaps saved
our mother and father from the doom that
comes to so many settlers in the wilderness.
And here is Kate given over to our charge without
either of us having to shoot down a single
Indian. Yes, Heaven was kind to us."</p>
<p>"Here comes the great sachem, and bearing
in his hand the totem flag which is to stand between
us and harm," remarked Bob, as he saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>
Pontiac approaching them, followed by a retinue
of jostling braves and chiefs.</p>
<p>The object which he thrust into the hand of
Bob was a beautifully made wampum belt that
had been attached to a stick. It was of unusual
wideness, and the symbols represented in its
barbaric splendor undoubtedly told a story
that every warrior could understand. (<a id="Note_8b"></a><a href="#Note_8">Note 8.</a>)</p>
<p>It seemed as though every brave in the great
Seneca village had gathered to hear what the
chief among ten thousand Indians had to say,
as he presented this badge of friendship to the
young pioneers. Some scowled as they surveyed
the palefaces; but the majority seemed
friendly, because they realized that as Indians
they owed a debt of gratitude to the white boy
who had saved the life so valuable to their
cause.</p>
<p>"Hear!" said Pontiac, elevating his wonderful
voice, even as he raised his dusky arm
with the air of a king, "these are the friends
of Pontiac. Let no Indian lift a hand against
them, or dare to follow as they pass over the
back trail to the swift water. Where this totem
hangs, that cabin is secure from the torch,
those inmates safe from the hatchet, the flaming
arrow, the knife. So long as Pontiac lives let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>
there be peace between the red men and those
who bear the name of Armstrong. I have
spoken."</p>
<p>Once again he thrust out his hand, and
gravely shook that of each of the whites, not
even forgetting Kate. And, in the stirring
times to come, when the whole border would
ring with the wonderful, masterful ability of
this organizer and red leader, perhaps there
would arise days of alarm when Bob and Sandy
would rejoice to know that the word of a chief
may never be broken.</p>
<p>So they took their parting look at the village
on the Great Lakes, and plunged into the forest.
Not a single brave dared to follow them,
so great was their fear and respect for the
mighty sachem of the Sacs.</p>
<p>Straight to the meeting-place of the five
chestnuts Bob led the way. Unerringly he took
his companions there, and at the first signal call
Kenton and the other three made their appearance.</p>
<p>"What does this magic mean?" asked the
borderer, when he saw who was the companion
of the Armstrong boys.</p>
<p>"Sure it makes me think I do be draming!"
declared Pat O'Mara, as he wrung the hands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>
of those he loved so well; nor did Kate hesitate
to throw her arms about the neck of this
faithful friend of her parents, so wild with delight
was she to see some one from home.</p>
<p>"Sandy did it," replied Bob, hastily, only
too glad to tell what a wonderful change in
their fortunes the hasty act of his brother had
effected. "He stopped Larue from bringing
down a club on the head of Pontiac as the chief
sat on a log, lost in thought. And, because of
that, Pontiac has called us his friends. This
totem flag will warn every red-skinned warrior
to injure us at the risk of making the chief his
deadly foe. And the Armstrong cabin will
never be put to the torch, or a single inmate
harmed by an Indian so long as Pontiac lives!"</p>
<p>Loud were the expressions of astonishment
on the part of the others. Kenton, who saw
himself reflected on a small scale in the quick-tempered
Sandy, grasped hold of the boy, and
shook him almost fiercely by the hand; after
which Pat and Abijah, yes, even the undemonstrative
Blue Jacket, followed suit.</p>
<p>"It seems almost too good to be true," cried
the delighted Kenton. "Not but that it would
have been a great thing for the struggling border
settlements if Pontiac had been slain here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>
and now; yet how wonderfully that shot won
our cause. But what is this you tell us of Larue?
We left him yet a prisoner in the cavern
back of the cataract. We must see to that!"</p>
<p>He immediately started for the stream, and,
as it would not be much out of their route, as
they headed for the far-distant Ohio, both boys
were quite willing. Besides, they were curious
to learn just how the wily French trapper had
slipped his bonds.</p>
<p>On the road to the waterfall Kenton asked
many questions. He, together with his companions,
had been stunned when the uproar
burst forth, just before they were ready to
begin operations. But all was made plain now,
and, while Simon Kenton would have been happier
had he found himself in the thick of the
fray, he could not complain at the way things
had turned out.</p>
<p>They found the two French trappers still
where they had been left. All they would say
was that Larue had seemed to suddenly break
loose, and had basely left them, possibly in his
haste to reach the village and give the alarm,
not wishing to linger long enough to effect their
release.</p>
<p>"The tricky Frenchman rolled into this pool<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>
of water, and let his bonds soak," said Kenton,
after he had made an examination. "When
wet, the deerskin thongs stretched enough for
him to work loose. He was afraid we might
come back and secure him again, so he fled without
stopping to so much as lend a helping hand
to his mates."</p>
<p>"Yes, and upon reaching the village he must
have seen Pontiac sitting there alone," said
Bob, in turn. "Remembering how the great
chief had struck him in the face, and humiliated
him at the grand council under the big oak, he
was unable to resist the temptation to creep up
and try to obtain revenge. In doing it Larue
never suspected that he was playing right into
our hands."</p>
<p>"If the Indians only knew that we listened
to what was said at that same council," remarked
Kenton; "they might not be willing
to let the rest of us escape so easily."</p>
<p>"But what shall we do with these two men?"
asked Bob, thoughtfully. "We can't leave them
here, for perhaps Larue may be put to the stake
with the dawn, and the story of their captivity
would never be known. The Indians avoid this
spot, Blue Jacket says, as the waterfall is believed
to be haunted by the spirits of their ancestors,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>
who call out constantly, and try to make
the red children understand what they are doing
in Manitou Land."</p>
<p>"No, we will take them along with us," determined
Kenton. "Some days hence we can
let them go free. By that time they could not
harm us by returning to the Seneca village, and
telling what they know of the council spies."</p>
<p>They lost no time in starting. Though Kenton
knew that Pontiac's totem belt would probably
be able to protect them, he was, nevertheless,
anxious to be well on the way to the Ohio.</p>
<p>So, for several days they journeyed; after
which the two French trappers were let go,
with a warning that they would be roughly
treated if they ever again showed themselves
near the settlement on the river bank.</p>
<p>And one day the little company arrived safely
at home. Great was the rejoicing of Mrs. Armstrong.
The entire community gathered around
that humble home in the clearing to hear the
story of the wonderful journey. And every
hand had to touch the wampum belt of Pontiac
that was to stand between the Armstrongs and
peril, in case of another Indian uprising.</p>
<p>Time passed on. It proved too late in the
fall for the expected flame to develop; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>
from their scouts the settlers learned, much to
their relief, that the uprising had been postponed
until spring. Of course that did not
mean they would be free from interference, because
the Shawanees were always on the warpath,
and the hatchet remained dug up between
them and the encroaching whites.</p>
<p>Bob and Sandy went on their way, gathering
the pelts that they found in their traps. Often
they talked over the adventures that had
marked their journey to the land of the Great
Lakes. Sandy was more determined than ever
to lead the life of an explorer, and follow in
the footsteps of the bold and resourceful hero
whom he fairly worshipped, Simon Kenton.</p>
<p>"Some day," he would say, as they thus
talked and exchanged confidences, "I mean to
set eyes on that wonderful river away to the
west, the mighty Mississippi, under which rest
the bones of the bold discoverer, De Soto. I
will never rest happy, Bob, until I can say that
I have seen the grandest river in all the world."</p>
<p>"Well," replied his brother with a smile,
"perhaps I may yet conclude to go with you,
Sandy. It is time our people knew more about
what the French traders are doing in that
region, establishing posts for dealing with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>
Indians. But in a few days, now, we ought to
hear something of father."</p>
<p>"Yes, winter is here, the snow is thick, and
it is nearly time," sighed Sandy; "and let us
hope the good fortune that followed us all the
way to the far north, will bring him back to
mother, safe and sound."</p>
<p>Though neither of them could see just how
their ambition was to be realized, there was a
way developing, and, in a new story concerning
the fortunes of Bob and Sandy, to be called:
"The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi," we
will have considerably more to narrate in connection
with the fortunes of the two lads.</p>
<p>One afternoon there was a loud shout heard
close to the Armstrong cabin; and a train of
four horses was discovered heading from the
main settlement, followed by a score of men
and women, all greatly excited.</p>
<p>Of course it was David Armstrong, returned
with a store of necessities that must delight the
heart of the good housewife, who, however, was
ten times happier over the safe home-coming
of the man she loved so fondly, than because
of anything the newly-recovered money could
buy.</p>
<p>They had a great time of feasting and rejoicing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>
The boys were compelled to narrate
every incident connected with their eventful
journey in search of Kate; and, as Pat O'Mara
still hung around, assisting Bob and Sandy in
their trapping expeditions, he was able to add
many little touches to the wonderful story.</p>
<p>So the winter which they had dreaded so
much proved to be a period of joy to the whole
settlement on the Ohio. Mr. Armstrong would
often take up that magic wampum belt of the
great sachem, Pontiac, and fondle it reverently,
as his imagination pictured that stirring scene
when, with his apparently ill-advised shot,
Sandy made a friend of the powerful leader,
and thus insured the safety of those he loved.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 136px;">
<img src="images/i367.jpg" width="136" height="194" alt="profile of Indian Chief" />
</div>
<div class='center'><br />THE END.</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a><br /><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span></p>
<h2>NOTES</h2>
<h3><span class="smcap"><a id="Note_1"></a><a href="#Note_1b">Note 1</a></span> (<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_7">page 7</a></span>)</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">The</span> modern repeating rifle is a far different weapon
from the clumsy, uncertain, inaccurate flint-lock
musket, and yet our forefathers developed rare skill
in the use of these primitive guns, which were fired
by a flint striking the hammer, causing a spark to
ignite a pinch of powder in a receptacle called the
"pan." This in turn ignited the charge of powder
that speeded the bullet on its way.</p>
<p>The loading of such a gun was a slow and painstaking
task. The charge of powder must be measured
out and poured down the barrel. The bullet, with its
"patch," or bit of rag, must then be rammed down
upon the powder, and finally the priming of powder
must be placed in the pan. The utmost care was used
in loading, but, even then, the spark might fail to
ignite the priming, or the latter might be damp, or
have been shaken from the pan. Many a brave
frontiersman lost his life because, in his time of need,
his musket failed to "go off."</p>
<h3><span class="smcap"><a id="Note_2"></a><a href="#Note_2b">Note 2</a></span> (<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_21">page 21</a></span>)</h3>
<p>The Five Nations was the name given by Champlain
to a league that had been formed by five powerful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>
tribes of the Iroquois race, the Mohawks, Oneidas,
Onondagas, Cayugas and Senecas, who inhabited the
Lake Region of what is now Central New York. The
name of the league was changed to the Six Nations
when, in 1722, the Tuskaroras, fleeing from North
Carolina, found a refuge with the league and became
a member of it.</p>
<p>The union was for the purposes of offence and defence
and originally had a permanent central government
lodged in fifty chiefs, who held office for life.
In the colonial wars between the French and English
and, later, in the Revolutionary War, the Six Nations
were usually found fighting on the side of the English.</p>
<h3><span class="smcap"><a id="Note_3"></a><a href="#Note_3b">Note 3</a></span> (<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_85">page 85</a></span>)</h3>
<p>Except for some tribes of the Pacific Coast, who
held their captives as slaves, a male prisoner was
either adopted into the tribe, or else put to death by
torture, the decision usually resting with the women.
If the prisoner's death was decided on, the most fiendish
ingenuity was shown. While burning at the stake
was the most common mode of death, it was usually
preceded by a succession of tortures, carefully planned
to prolong the victim's agony to the utmost.</p>
<h3><span class="smcap"><a id="Note_4"></a><a href="#Note_4b">Note 4</a></span> (<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_107">page 107</a></span>)</h3>
<p>The turkey, now domesticated in nearly every
country of the world, is a native of North America,
and was unknown before the coming of Columbus.
While now the wild turkey is almost extinct, the early<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>
settlers found these birds in the greatest abundance,
and they formed a not unimportant portion of the
frontiersman's fare.</p>
<h3><span class="smcap"><a id="Note_5"></a><a href="#Note_5b">Note 5</a></span> (<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_192">page 192</a></span>)</h3>
<p>The Indian method of disposing of the dead varied
with the different tribes and different localities.
While burial in the ground was more common, many
tribes, notably of the plains, placed the bodies in trees
or upon platforms; others placed their dead in sitting
positions in caves; still others practised cremation.
It was the general custom to either burn or bury the
personal belongings of the deceased, in order that he
might enjoy their use in the life to come.</p>
<h3><span class="smcap"><a id="Note_6"></a><a href="#Note_6b">Note 6</a></span> (<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_226">page 226</a></span>)</h3>
<p>Although smoking was a universal custom among
the American Indians, tobacco was unknown to the
rest of the world previous to the discovery of America;
but its use has since spread to the four quarters
of the globe. The Spaniards were the first European
smokers, but their example was quickly followed by
the other nations, although church and state did
what they could to prevent the spread of the habit,
Pope Urban VII having even gone so far as to issue
an edict against it.</p>
<p>The scientific name, Nicotiana, was given tobacco
in honor of Jean Nicot, French Ambassador to Portugal,
who, on his return to France, presented a package
of seed to Catherine de Medici.</p>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span></h3>
<p>Among the Indians, ceremonial smoking was a universal
rite, and had a deep religious significance,
smoke being considered as an incense of the gods,
while the act of smoking was the strongest form of
oath.</p>
<p>All discussions between individuals, all councils
of a tribe, all treaty-making was preceded by the
smoking of "the pipe of peace" and all agreements
were ratified by the passing of the sacred pipe from
hand to hand until all had joined in the solemn ceremony.</p>
<h3><span class="smcap"><a id="Note_7"></a><a href="#Note_7b">Note 7</a></span> (<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_284">page 284</a></span>)</h3>
<p>Among the eastern Indians the principal civil officers
were the Sachems. This office was elective, in
theory; but, in practice, it was usually hereditary.
There was also a head war-chief, although at times
the two offices were held by the same individual. Except
for these two officers, there can hardly be said
to have been any social distinctions among the various
members of a tribe. At that, the authority of the
Sachem generally depended more on the ability and
influence of the individual than on the power conferred
by his office, while, except in actual warfare,
where his commands were fairly well obeyed, the head
war-chief seems to have had no authority whatever.</p>
<h3><span class="smcap"><a id="Note_8"></a><a href="#Note_8b">Note 8</a></span> (<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_337">page 337</a></span>)</h3>
<p>Wampum was used by the Indians both as an ornament
and as money. It was of two kinds, the white,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>
made from the stem of the periwinkle shell, and the
black, made from the dark spot in the quahog shell.
Both were carefully shaped and polished, then pierced
and strung in the form of belts, necklaces or bracelets.
The black wampum was considered more valuable
than the white.</p>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1_ad" id="Page_1_ad">[A-1]</a></span></p>
<div class='adtitle1'>Selections from<br />
The Page Company's<br />
Books for Young People</div>
<div class='adtitle2'>THE BLUE BONNET SERIES</div>
<p class='center'>
<i>Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume</i> $1.50<br />
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<p class='adtitle3'>BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY</p>
<p>By <span class="smcap">Caroline E. Jacobs and Edyth Ellerbeck Read</span>.</p>
<p>"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every
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<p class='adtitle4'><span class='booktitle'>BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON;</span> <span class="smcap">Or, Boarding-School
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<p>"It is a fine story for girls, and is bound to become
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<p class='adtitle4'><span class='booktitle'>BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE;</span> <span class="smcap">Or, The
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<p>"It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their
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<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2_ad" id="Page_2_ad">[A-2]</a></span></p>
<div class='adtitle2'>THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES</div>
<p class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Harrison Adams</span></p>
<p class='center'>
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<span class="smcap">Or, On the Trail of the Iroquois.</span></p>
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<p>"The story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure."—New
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<span class="smcap">Or, Lost in the Land of Wonders.</span></p>
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the story is well told."—<i>Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn.</i></p>
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<span class="smcap">Or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest.</span></p>
<p>"The story is full of spirited action and contains much
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<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3_ad" id="Page_3_ad">[A-3]</a></span></p>
<div class='adtitle2'>THE HADLEY HALL SERIES</div>
<p class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Louise M. Breitenbach</span></p>
<p class='center'>
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</p>
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<p class='adtitle3'>ALMA'S SOPHOMORE YEAR</p>
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<p class='adtitle3'>ALMA'S JUNIOR YEAR</p>
<p>"The diverse characters in the boarding-school are
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<p class='adtitle3'>ALMA'S SENIOR YEAR</p>
<p>"Incident abounds in all of Miss Breitenbach's stories
and a healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every
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<hr class="chap" />
<div class='adtitle2'>THE GIRLS OF<br />
FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES</div>
<p class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Harriet Lummis Smith</span></p>
<p class='center'>
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<p class='adtitle3'>THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE</p>
<p>"A book sure to please girl readers, for the author seems
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Globe.</i></p>
<p class='adtitle3'>PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION</p>
<p>"It is a wholesome, hearty story."—<i>Utica Observer.</i></p>
<p class='adtitle3'>SCHOOL DAYS ON FRIENDLY TERRACE</p>
<p>The book is delightfully written, and contains lots of
exciting incidents.</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS</p>
<p>The book is delightfully written, and contains lots of exciting
incidents.</p>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4_ad" id="Page_4_ad">[A-4]</a></span></p>
<div class='adtitle2'>FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES</div>
<p class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Charles H. L. Johnston</span></p>
<p class='center'>
<i>Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume</i> $1.50<br />
</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS</p>
<p>"More of such books should be written, books that
acquaint young readers with historical personages in a
pleasant, informal way."—<i>New York Sun.</i></p>
<p>"It is a book that will stir the heart of every boy and
will prove interesting as well to the adults."—<i>Lawrence
Daily World.</i></p>
<p class='adtitle3'>FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS</p>
<p>"Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume,
and his relation of battles, sieges and struggles of these
famous Indians with the whites for the possession of
America is a worthy addition to United States History."—<i>New
York Marine Journal.</i></p>
<p class='adtitle3'>FAMOUS SCOUTS</p>
<p>"It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination
for boys and young men, and while it entertains them
it will also present valuable information in regard to
those who have left their impress upon the history of the
country."—<i>The New London Day.</i></p>
<p class='adtitle3'>FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS
OF THE SEA</p>
<p>"The tales are more than merely interesting; they are
entrancing, stirring the blood with thrilling force and
bringing new zest to the never-ending interest in the
dramas of the sea."—<i>The Pittsburgh Post.</i></p>
<p class='adtitle3'>FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES
OF THE BORDER</p>
<p>This book is devoted to a description of the adventurous
lives and stirring experiences of many pioneer heroes
who were prominently identified with the opening of the
Great West.</p>
<p>"The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly
readable, making a book of wide appeal to all who love
the history of actual adventure."—<i>Cleveland Leader.</i></p>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5_ad" id="Page_5_ad">[A-5]</a></span></p>
<div class='adtitle2'>HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES</div>
<p class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Laura E. Richards</span><br />
Eleven Volumes</p>
<p>The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with
"Queen Hildegarde" and ending with "The Merryweathers,"
make one of the best and most popular series
of books for girls ever written.</p>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="books and prices">
<tr><td align="left"><i>Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume </i></td><td align="right">$1.25</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><i>The eleven volumes boxed as a set</i></td><td align="right">$13.75</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p class='center'><b>LIST OF TITLES</b></p>
<ul class='booklist'><li><b>QUEEN HILDEGARDE</b></li>
<li><b>HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY</b></li>
<li><b>HILDEGARDE'S HOME</b></li>
<li><b>HILDEGARDE'S NEIGHBORS</b></li>
<li><b>HILDEGARDE'S HARVEST</b></li>
<li><b>THREE MARGARETS</b></li>
<li><b>MARGARET MONTFORT</b></li>
<li><b>PEGGY</b></li>
<li><b>RITA</b></li>
<li><b>FERNLEY HOUSE</b></li>
<li><b>THE MERRYWEATHERS</b></li></ul>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6_ad" id="Page_6_ad">[A-6]</a></span></p>
<div class='adtitle2'>THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES</div>
<p class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Laura E. Richards</span></p>
<p class='center'>
<i>Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume</i> 50 cents<br />
</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>CAPTAIN JANUARY</p>
<p>A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose
success has been very remarkable.</p>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Books and prices">
<tr><td align="left">SAME. <i>Illustrated Holiday Edition</i></td><td align="right">$1.25</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">SAME, <span class="smcap">French Text</span>. <i>Illustrated Holiday Edition</i> </td><td align="right">$1.25</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p class='adtitle4'><span class='booktitle'>MELODY:</span> <span class="smcap">The Story of a Child</span>.</p>
<p class='center'>
SAME. <i>Illustrated Holiday Edition</i> $1.25<br />
</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>MARIE</p>
<p>A companion to "Melody" and "Captain January."</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>ROSIN THE BEAU</p>
<p>A sequel to "Melody" and "Marie."</p>
<p class='adtitle4'><span class='booktitle'>SNOW-WHITE;</span> <span class="smcap">Or, The House in the Wood</span>.</p>
<p class='adtitle4'><span class='booktitle'>JIM OF HELLAS;</span> <span class="smcap">Or, In Durance Vile</span>, and
a companion story, <span class="smcap">Bethesda Pool</span>.</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>NARCISSA</p>
<p>And a companion story, <span class="smcap">In Verona</span>, being two delightful
short stories of <span class="smcap">New England</span> life.</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>"SOME SAY"</p>
<p>And a companion story, <span class="smcap">Neighbors in Cyrus</span>.</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>NAUTILUS</p>
<p>"'Nautilus' is by far the best product of the author's
powers, and is certain to achieve the wide success it so
richly merits."</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>ISLA HERON</p>
<p>This interesting story is written in the author's usual
charming manner.</p>
<p class='adtitle3'>THE LITTLE MASTER</p>
<p>"A well told, interesting tale of a high character."—<i>California
Gateway Gazette.</i></p>
<hr class="full" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/ibackend.jpg" width="600" height="435" alt="one man shooting, another man running through woods" />
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<div class='tnote'>
<p class='center'><b>Transcriber's Notes:</b></p>
<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Varied hyphenation retained as printed.</p>
<p>The frontispiece originally had a stick of the owner on it. That was deleted, hence
the empty space on the left. </p>
<p>Page 11, "on" changed to "an" (or an Oneida)</p>
<p>Page 183, "sideway" changed to "sideways" (jump sideways just at)</p>
<p>Page 202, "seemd" changed to "seemed" (seemed in a fair way)</p>
</div>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 46795 ***</div>
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