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How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

by F. S. Brereton · English · Gutenberg #43364 · 551,620 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

Author: F. S. Brereton

Illustrator: W. Rainey


        
Release date: July 30, 2013 [eBook #43364]
                Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW CANADA WAS WON: A TALE OF WOLFE AND QUEBEC ***

[Transcriber's Note: Every effort has been made to replicate this
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  How Canada was Won

  A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

  BY
  CAPTAIN F. S. BRERETON

  Author of "With Wolseley to Kumasi" "Jones of the 64th"
  "With Roberts to Candahar" "A Soldier of Japan"
  "Roger the Bold" &c. &c.

  _ILLUSTRATED BY WILLIAM RAINEY, R.I._

  LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, LIMITED
  THE COPP CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED
  TORONTO


[Illustration: STEVE AND MAC CAPTURING THE FRENCH GUNS]


  _Copyright, 1908, in the United States, America,
  by H. M. Caldwell Co._

  _Published simultaneously in Great Britain and
  the United States._




Contents


   CHAP.                                   Page

      I. THE CAMP ON THE RIVER                9

     II. FRENCH OUTLAWS AND ROBBERS          25

    III. FLIGHT BY NIGHT                     43

     IV. STEVE MAKES A SUGGESTION            61

      V. JULES LAPON IS DISAPPOINTED         79

     VI. LEFT IN CHARGE                      97

    VII. THE ALLEGHANY RAIDERS              115

   VIII. A QUESTION OF TERRITORY            133

     IX. GEORGE WASHINGTON SPEAKS           152

      X. STEVE AND HIS BAND OF SCOUTS       174

     XI. HELD UP!                           194

    XII. GENEROSITY TO THE FOE              215

   XIII. A TRAITOR IN THE CAMP              238

    XIV. STEVE MEETS AN OLD ENEMY           254

     XV. OFF TO QUEBEC                      275

    XVI. THE RETURN OF THE HURONS           296

   XVII. DOWN THE MIGHTY ST. LAWRENCE       315

  XVIII. THE ATTACK ON LOUISBOURG           334

    XIX. WOLFE MAKES HIS LAST ATTEMPT       359

     XX. THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM              379




Illustrations


                                                             Page

  STEVE AND MAC CAPTURING THE FRENCH GUNS      _Frontispiece_ 220

  "THE INDIAN WAS UPON HIM, HIS KEEN TOMAHAWK GLEAMING
  IN HIS HAND"                                                 36

  "'COME NEARER THAT I MAY KILL YOU EASILY,' HE SAID"          65

  "STEVE RESTED HIS BARREL IN THE FORK OF A DWARFED
  TREE"                                                       125

  STEVE AND MAC DISCOVER THE WOUNDED FRENCH OFFICER           235

  "WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF AGAIN, HE WAS BEING
  CARRIED ON THE SHOULDERS OF FOUR INDIANS"                   253

  "WE SEEK A PALE FACE WHO HAS BROKEN AWAY FROM
  THE CITY"                                                   312

  "IN ANOTHER SECOND HE HAD BAYONETTED THE FRENCHMAN"         349


  MAP OF CANADA AND OUR AMERICAN COLONY IN 1755               137

  MAP OF THE TRIANGULAR ROUTE BETWEEN CANADA AND
  OUR AMERICAN COLONY, 1755                                   335

  MAP OF QUEBEC IN 1759                                       365




Chapter I

The Camp on the River


"Waal? What did yer see? Clear, I reckon."

Jim Hardman looked up swiftly as a couple of tall figures came
silently into the clearing in the centre of which the camp fire
burned, and he paused for a moment in the task which occupied him.
He was squatting on his heels, after the fashion of the Indians and
of all backwoodsmen, and was engaged in cleaning the long barrel
of his musket, turning the weapon over with loving care, as if it
were a child to whom he was devoted. Indeed Jim had no more faithful
friend or servant. For this long musket had been his companion on
many and many a hunting and prospecting expedition during the past
twenty years. He scarcely ever laid it down, but carried it the day
long, usually ready in his hands, or when the times were peaceful and
quiet, slung across his slender shoulders. Jim could tell tales of
how this faithful weapon had brought down buffalo and deer and many
another animal, and had helped him to gather the stores of skins in
exchange for which he obtained those few luxuries which his simple
nature needed. In his more communicative moods he could narrate how
the bullets which he had moulded with the aid of a hot camp fire and
a supply of lead had been directed against men, against the fierce
Indian inhabitants of this Ohio valley, who for years past had waged a
ceaseless and pitiless warfare against all white invaders of their old
hunting grounds.

Indeed, "Hunting" Jim, as he was styled and known by all the
backwoodsmen in those parts, had need to care for his weapon, for
without it he would be lost, and his life would be at the mercy of the
first redskin who crossed his path.

"Waal?" he repeated, in his backwoods drawl, as he vigorously rubbed
at the shining barrel. "Reckon we're through 'em. There ain't a one in
sight. Ef there is, Steve and Silver Fox'll know all about 'em."

He looked with approval at his weapon, and getting to his feet he
slung it across his shoulders. Then he stepped softly across to the
fire, and bending over it, pushed the long ramrod suspended over
the embers a little farther on to the forked sticks which held it.
A couple of pieces of bear meat were skewered upon the rod, and had
been frizzling there for the past quarter of an hour. Now, as they
were placed right over the heat they set up a low-voiced but merry
tune, while an appetizing odour assailed the nostrils of the two
who had come to the camp. One of these two was without doubt a Red
Indian, for he was decked elaborately after the custom of his race;
his face was freely daubed with paint, which gave him a hideous and
cruel appearance that a feathered head-dress served to increase. He
was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with long, sinewy arms and legs, and
gave one the impression that he was in perfect condition and trained
to stand the utmost hardship. He nodded to Jim, and took his place
in front of the fire, squatted on his heels, and stared silently at
the embers. A minute later he opened his lips and spoke in the Indian
tongue, his gaze still fixed on the fire.

"My brothers can sleep and eat in peace and contentment," he said,
in tones which were dignified and not unmusical. "Silver Fox and the
pale-face youth whom you call Steve, but known to us as Hawk, for
his eyes are keen, keener even than are mine or my brother's,--have
been through the forest and have watched the river. Our enemies have
gone, vanished into the woods. We know this for certain, for we came
upon their track. They were journeying towards the head waters of the
river."

It was a long speech for Silver Fox, and having delivered it, he
felt for the buckskin bag in which he carried his precious store of
tobacco, filled his pipe and set fire to the weed by taking one of the
burning sticks in his long, thin fingers and lifting it to the bowl.

Meanwhile his companion, who had emerged with him from the thick
forest which surrounded the camp, advanced to the fire, sniffed
appreciatively, and glanced at the meat which frizzled over the
flames, in a manner which showed that the sight was a pleasant one.
Then he slipped his musket from his shoulders, and stood for a moment
to his full height, thoughtfully regarding Silver Fox and Hunting
Jim. He, too, was tall and lissom. From the top of his coon-skin cap
to the bottom of his soft moccasins he measured a good six feet. He
was dressed in a leather shirt elaborately fringed, as was the habit
with all hunters, while his legs were encased in fringed leather
leggings and in soft moccasins, all of which he had manufactured from
skins he himself had obtained. Stephen Mainwaring looked a typical
backwoodsman, and as the sun struck upon his well-developed figure,
upon his open face, all tanned with long exposure to the wind and the
weather, and upon his strong brown arms and hands, even his bitterest
enemy would have been forced to admit that he was a fine young fellow,
that there was as much strength in his face, in that square, resolute
chin, and in those steady, fearless-looking eyes as could well be
found, and that his whole appearance gave promise of honesty, a
sterling good nature, and a temper which was not to be easily ruffled.
Had there been any doubt on the last point Steve's joviality on this
fine summer's morning would soon have set the matter at rest. He might
only that moment have risen from his blanket, so fresh and gay was
he, and no one would have dreamed that he and Silver Fox had been
tramping the forest since night had fallen, scouting for an enemy
whom they and their comrades had good cause to fear. He sat down
suddenly, dragged off his soaked moccasins, and his coon-skin hat,
which glistened with the heavy dew that had fallen upon it, and placed
them close to the embers. Then he turned a jovial face to Jim.

"Waal, I reckon you can smoke that ere pipe of yours with ease and
comfort, Jim," he sang out, imitating exactly the drawl of the
huntsman. "Reckon Silver Fox and I can eat jest all we're able to get
our fingers on, and can then put in a bit of sleep. There ain't no
Injuns this side of forty mile away."

He laughed merrily as Jim looked severely at him, and taking the
ramrod in his hand, turned it so as to expose the farther side of the
meat to the heat.

"All's clear," he went on suddenly, in his natural tones, speaking in
a manner which showed that though he looked a typical backwoodsman he
had had an education, and as regards his conversation, was fit to mix
with the gentry of New York, or those of Boston or Charlestown, or
even with those of London itself.

"That's a lad for yer, Judge," said Jim, scowling playfully at Steve,
and then turning to one of the other figures standing or sitting about
the camp. "This Hawk gets born out in the settlements and gets took
straight away right into the backwoods. He larns to sit a scrawny pony
when he's no higher than a dozen piled-up dollars, and to shoot a gun
when he ain't got the strength to stand up to the jar one of these
muskets gives. Reckon I've seen him knocked endways with the kick many
and many a time."

He looked for an answer, and waited while the broad-shouldered
backwoodsman whom he addressed sat up and stared thoughtfully back at
him and then at Steve, who squatted by the fire. "Judge" Mainwaring,
as he was usually styled, was a big-boned, burly man, bearded and as
rugged as the oaks which grew in the wood. His eyes were deep-set and
thoughtful, and he had the air of a man who reflects, who says little,
and that only after due consideration. Indeed Judge Mainwaring had a
reputation for wisdom in the backwoods. No man was more respected in
the neighbourhood of the Mohawk country, and there was no more skilful
hunter, no more courageous Indian tracker than this big man. He spoke
seldom, and then always to the point, and in a manner which proved
that he had at one time been very different from these rough, honest
fellows of the backwoods with whom he now spent his days. Jim and his
comrades had had a talk about Tom Mainwaring or the Judge, many and
many a time, and had even endeavoured to worm some of his history from
him. But always without success.

"Reckon we'd better shut up," said Jim, after one of these many
conversations, when he and Judge and some five others had been
gathered at Tom Mainwaring's log hut in the backwoods. "He don't mean
to tell whar he's from, nor what he was, and small blame to him. He's
here, stout and plucky, a good shot, and jest the fiercest hater I
knows of them varmint of redskins. Reckon that's enough."

"And need he's had to hate them too," another had added. "Reckon Judge
don't care for much after the boy, than to get even with them varmint."

That was indeed the case. No one knew Tom Mainwaring's history, or
could even conjecture where he came from, what calling he had followed
or what his fortunes had been. To the many questions with which he had
at first been bombarded he had replied shortly and with perfect good
temper, but in such a manner that none of those who were so curious
were any the wiser. Yes, he knew Boston, and New York, and London.
He had lived in all three, and he knew France. That was as far as he
could or would go, and the settlers who had picked their holdings in
the Ohio valley, to the south of the giant lakes of Erie and Ontario,
had to be content. He had come to them one fine spring time, a silent
man, bringing a wife and a young son on the back of the one horse
which he led. He had set up his log hut like the rest, and had fished
and shot, and exchanged his pelts for the few necessaries required by
these pioneers of the American forests beyond the Alleghany Mountains.
His wife was French, that they knew for a fact; while Judge, and in
due course Steve also, could speak the language fluently. But where
he came from, why this educated man, who lacked nothing, not even
dollars, for it was an open secret that he had abundant means,--should
come to the backwoods and there bury himself and his wife and boy none
could imagine. But it was apparent that, whatever the reason was, Tom
Mainwaring had no need to be ashamed of it. His honest dealings with
others, his high principles, and the manner in which he had devoted
himself to the education of his boy had proved over and over again
that whatever the mystery, there was nothing about it that could call
a blush of shame to his cheeks.

As to his undying hate of the Indians, that was easily explained.
After all, he did not differ very much in that from the few neighbours
who surrounded him. But he had undoubtedly more cause for hatred.
That same mystery which was for ever a source of wondering curiosity
to these rough pioneers of the forest, took Tom Mainwaring over the
Alleghany mountains once in a while in the direction of the American
coast. Perhaps he went to New York, perhaps to Boston, and it was
even possible, seeing that on occasion he had been absent for six
months, that he had been to England--wherever he went, one of these
journeys had caused him to leave his wife and child in the care of
friendly neighbours, and during his absence these unhappy people had
been raided by the relentless Indians, the women of the party had been
killed, while Steve and one other who happened to be picking berries
in the forest, had alone escaped.

"Reckon that air enough to set any man who is a man agin the varmint,"
Jim had said long ago. "Judge ain't been the same sence he come back
to find the boy alone, and the wife killed and scalped. He's got
kinder hard and fierce, and don't them Injuns know it! And now that
Steve's got big and grown, and able to look for hisself, the log hut
ain't no more use to Judge. Reckon he's happier on the trail."

"There's a lad for yer, Judge," repeated Jim. "Listen to his sauce.
He ain't no respect for his betters now that he's got the knack of
shootin'."

"It's his spirit, Jim," replied Tom Mainwaring, looking with kindling
eye at Steve, and relaxing so far as to smile. "He can use his tongue
as well as he can shoot. So all is clear, Steve?"

"Yes, all clear, father. Silver Fox and I trailed round the camp far
out, and never came upon a track till early. That hunting tribe that
got on to our trace yesterday has given the matter up, and there's
no one to harm us anywhere near. We struck a party of Mohawks up the
river. They're watching the borders."

"And good need they'll have, too," said Tom with emphasis. "I think
there was never such a time as this for raids and murders. We have to
thank the French and their Indians for that."

There was silence for a while in the camp, Steve nodding to Silver Fox
and chatting in low tones as soon as the meat was cooked, while Jim
and Tom stared at the embers, both engrossed with their own thoughts.
And while the two at the fire discuss their breakfast of bear's
meat, and the two sturdy backwoodsmen stare at the embers and think,
let us take a closer look at the camp to which we have already been
introduced, and at its surroundings.

It was pitched in a small natural clearing on the Mohawk river, a
little before its junction with the Hudson, at the mouth of which New
York is situated. Not the New York of to-day, with its regular streets
and avenues, its towering buildings, well-named "sky-scrapers,"
its gigantic hotels, its tenement dwellings and its mansions where
millionaires hide from the inquisitive eyes of the people; but the
New York of the year 1756, with many Dutch among the inhabitants, who
still clung to the city which had once been theirs, but at that time
belonged to the English. New York with its smaller and, compared with
modern days, unpretentious dwellings above which the only thing that
towered was the steeple of the church. South and west of the camp
where Steve and his comrades rested was Albany, an up-country Dutch
settlement, which boasted many wealthy and aristocratic Dutch, and
offered always a means whereby the hunters and trappers of English
descent could barter the pelts which they had collected during the
previous winter. It was whispered, too, that here, in this quiet
Albany, tenanted by Puritan Dutch, French _voyageurs_, and _coureurs
de bois_, the backwoodsmen and trappers of that portion of Northern
America then owned by France, and now known as Canada, were able to
sell the loot obtained from the numerous English settlements which
they and their Indian helpers had attacked and captured.

For there was war between the colonial French and the colonial
English, and for some little time now the two nations had been engaged
in a cruel frontier struggle. In Europe, however, France and England
were outwardly at peace, so far as those in America knew, though
the spring of the year above mentioned saw England's patience at
last destroyed, and a formal declaration of war made. Still, these
backwoodsmen had no notion of that, nor had the numerous French
_voyageurs_ and soldiers who had come across Lake Erie and had marched
down into the valley of the Ohio. That was the disputed ground, where
the bold English pioneers had settled their log huts and taken up
holdings, believing themselves to be on British soil. And now hordes
of French, accompanied by their priests and by thousands of Indians,
were pushing south and west, were expelling the British colonists, and
too often were exterminating them.

No wonder Hunting Jim and Judge Mainwaring and their comrades took
precautions against surprise. They were in a country which was overrun
by enemies, and since they had set out from their settlement ten days
before, they had observed the greatest caution. The huge birch bark
canoe in which they had paddled down the Mohawk had never left the
centre of that stream, save when night had fallen, and always two of
the party had had their eyes glued on the tree-covered banks. In rear
of them, piled high in a second canoe, which was attached to the one
they paddled, were their pelts, a big store of valuable skins, for
which they hoped to obtain a good exchange. It was guarded by one of
the two Mohawk Indians who accompanied them, and who sat at the stern,
musket in hand.

And so for ten days they had travelled, their camp settled in some
clearing at night, sometimes without a fire, for the smoke or the
glare would have brought a host about them, and always with two of
their number out in the woods keeping careful guard. But now they were
safe. It was seldom that French _voyageurs_ had penetrated into the
English settlements as far as this, while their Indian allies stood
in fear of the six united tribes of redskins situated hereabouts, and
known as the Iroquois.

About the camp trees clustered thickly, pines and oaks, maple and
birch, while scattered here and there amongst the trunks were
whortleberry and cranberry bushes, honeysuckle, wild rose trees and
bracken. In many and many a spot the scarlet tupelo and the sumac
grew bright against the green, with purple asters and balm, and the
delicate blue flower of the gentian to keep them company.

A narrow exit led to the Mohawk river, glistening in the sun, and
reflecting the deep green of its forest boundaries in deep pools,
where the stream ran sluggishly, and where the surface was broken
every now and again by the sudden rising of a fish. Wild rice grew
in banks at the water's edge, while clusters of the resin plant and
of wild lilies could be seen by those who cared to look for them. No
wonder that Steve Mainwaring looked fresh and jolly, for these were
the surroundings in which he had passed his seventeen years, without
a care, save the loss of his mother, which he was too young at the
time to realize, and with that spice of danger about him which has
drawn men of every race and creed to such parts. Steve knew the forest
by heart, could tell the difference between the sharp call of the
chickadee and the blue bird, and the howl of fox or wolf. No Indian
was more conversant with the secrets of nature than he, and none
was more at home in the heart of these forest wildernesses. It was,
indeed, his home, and he was never happier than when on the trail.

"Reckon ef we get away within an hour we'll fetch up at Albany before
the dark comes," said Jim at length, as he watched Steve and Silver
Fox eating. "We'll give yer that time for a smoke, young feller, and
then strike camp. Jest raise Mac and that 'ere Talkin' Baar."

He nodded across the camp to the far corner where two figures lay
beneath blankets, sleeping lightly. That they were easily roused was
clear, for as Steve and his companion had come into the clearing
they sat up, only to snuggle under their blankets again. But as Jim
called out the name of Talking Bear, one of the figures started into a
sitting position, followed by the second.

"We'll be on the road in an hour," explained Jim. "Reckon you two have
had a sleep, and ken help me and Judge to get the canoes afloat and
the pelts packed into 'em. Rouse yerself, Mac. Never did see such a
man for sleep."

"And, faith, niver did Oi set eyes on a man what spoke so much. Sleep
did ye say? Sure it's these last two hours Oi've been lyin' alongside
of Talking Bear, wid me eyes tight shut, thrying to get off and drame.
But ye talk so much, Huntin' Jim. Ye'd kape a regimint awhake, so ye
would."

The Irishman roused himself with a growl, and throwing off his
blanket, strode over to Jim and shook his fist in his face, a broad
grin setting his lips wide asunder, and showing a set of strong teeth
which were somewhat blackened with constant use of his pipe. He was
short and sturdy, and in spite of the severeness of his hunting dress,
which was identical with those worn by his comrades, he presented a
comical appearance. His skin cap had fallen off, and showed a shock
head of very brilliant red hair, continuing down his cheeks to his
chin, where it ended in a straggling beard of the same vivid colour.
Indeed, Mac was not good-looking, but he had a pair of genial,
kindly eyes, and was a merry fellow, whose jests and laughter kept
the spirits of his fellows from falling. Once upon a time he had
worn a uniform, and had fought for his country. Then he had come to
America, and by degrees had drifted to the Alleghany settlements, from
which his fondness for danger and adventure had attracted him to the
backwoods. And here he was, boon companion to Jim and the Judge, a
staunch man in the fight, as merry and as light-hearted as a child.

"Will ye niver larn to keep yer tongue in betwixt yer teeth, Huntin'
Jim?" he asked, severely, shaking his fist within an inch of the black
bowl which Jim held between his teeth. "Begorra! Take a lisson from
the Judge. Reckon he's that silent folks can sleep and take their
rest. Git up wid yerself and lind a hand."

He made a sudden dive at Jim's shoulder, and swung him to his feet,
for Mac was very powerful. Then, still shaking his fist at the
grinning backwoodsman, he hustled him down to the banks of the river.
And from there their laughter and their shouts came back to the camp,
while Steve watched their antics. Then Silver Fox handed him his
tobacco, and soon they were smoking and staring at the embers, now and
again exchanging words in the Mohawk language. Presently a shout from
Mac told that the canoes were laden, and at the summons Silver Fox
and his brother, a painted and bedecked Indian like himself, gathered
their blankets about their shoulders, took up their muskets, and
trailed off down to the bank, leaving Steve and his father to stamp
out the fire, to look round for any forgotten trifle, and then to
follow.

"Talkin' Baar's turn for the canoe with the pelts," said Jim, taking
the lead. "Me and you'll paddle, Judge, while this 'ere critter of
yours and Silver Fox keeps an eye on the banks. Hop in easy thar. Mac,
I quite forgot you war there. Slip in in front of me. Now, off we go."

They pushed out into the river, and took to their paddles. That
evening, just before darkness fell, they pulled into the shore where
the township of Albany was situated, and having found a suitable spot,
made for the land. A fire was soon blazing, and within a little while
they were eating. When the moon got up that night and rode high in the
heavens above them, it looked down upon a silent camp, upon the dying
embers of a fire, and upon five silent figures stretched on the ground
and hidden beneath their blankets. Within a few feet of their heads
stood one solitary figure, erect and motionless, swathed in a blanket.
The long barrel of a musket stood up stark against the moon, while
the brilliant light showed up the features of Talking Bear, alert and
watchful, as careful here of the safety of his pale-face brothers as
he would have been in the heart of a hostile country.




Chapter II

French Outlaws and Robbers


"We won't waste no time in gettin' rid of them pelts," said Hunting
Jim, early on the following morning, as the little party sat about
their fire, which was close to the bank of the Hudson river and within
a few yards of the nearest house. "I don't reckon Albany's much of a
place fer us jest now. There's the French up by Lake George, and a
Dutchman I struck at sunrise, a chap as round as a barrel; guessed
that they or their Injuns might hop in here any time. What do yer say,
Judge?"

"We need not fear them," was the calm answer, given after more than a
minute's silence. "They will hardly dare to raid this place, for at
the present time they are doing their utmost to conciliate the Dutch
and win them over to their own side. The same may be said of the
Indians. You see, boys, we colonists are far more numerous than the
French, though they are far better led and organised. Our people seem
to devote all their time to squabbling amongst themselves."

"While the poor white critters out in the woods gets scalped by
fifties and hundreds. Reckon that's a shame," growled Jim. "But about
these pelts."

"Lave it to Steve," burst in Mac, putting his strong fingers through
his shock head of tousled hair. "He's our shopman, so he is, and faith
he'll get as big a price as any. Bigger, me bhoy, so lave it to him."

"You're right, Mac. Steve's the boy," Jim agreed, with a nod, while
Tom Mainwaring smiled approvingly as his son's name was mentioned.
"Yer see, that thar feller Schiller's as hard as a stone I reckon,
and when it comes to a deal with me, or you, Mac, he jest twists us
kinder round his finger. He knows we ain't got no other market, and so
he jest offers what'd be a fair price for a dozen of the skins. Then,
if we looks disgusted, as like as not he'll put a little extry to his
price as a kind of bait. Reckon he's 'cute. He knows we've got to take
his stuff or well nigh starve before we reach another settlement. I've
felt often that I was being robbed by the skunk, but what air a man to
do? Refuse did yer say, Mac?"

"That's so, me bhoy. Indade ye wouldn't be giving the pelts away, so
ye wouldn't."

"Then jest you try that 'ere game," exclaimed Jim, somewhat hotly.
"That chap Schiller's got the broadest back and the coolest temper
I ever saw. It's what he offers or nothing. If you ain't pleased,
he jest gets up from his chair and starts to walk into his house.
Reckon a fellow can't stand that. He's got to soften and give way. But
Steve's the boy. Steve, will yer trade with this 'ere Schiller?"

"Ready and willing, Jim," was the tall lad's eager answer. "I did it
last time, and I'll try again on this occasion. But mind you, you must
back me up."

"We'll do that," sang out Jim. "Then bring them pelts along."

They went to the pile of skins, and each taking a load, marched into
the town of Albany, leaving Tom Mainwaring and the Indians to guard
the camp. And a strange procession they made as they came along the
wide street, past the prosperous Dutch houses and the well-dressed and
comfortable-looking owners. Not that they attracted much attention,
for hunters and trappers were a common sight in the streets of Albany
in those days, and pelts often exchanged hands there.

To the trapper, the tough and hardy woodsman who had been scouring
the forest during the winter and late summer before, hunting game
and caring for the skins, this visit to Albany was one of no small
importance. This expedition and the stores he would obtain were a
source of interest and expectation during the long cold months, and
the trade he could do was of no small importance. For each skin meant
so much in the way of powder, so much lead, or perhaps a new musket.
With the goods he obtained he went back to his log hut, and by dint of
great care managed to eke them out over the winter. As for the trader
who took the pelts, he found an eager market for them in New York, and
made a huge profit over the transaction.

Bearing their pelts on their shoulders, with their muskets in full
evidence, and the blades of their keen tomahawks glittering beneath
their belts, the three trappers marched down the street sturdily,
their heads in the air, looking what they were, a thoroughly
independent and hardy trio. And presently they came to Hans Schiller's
house, and saw the negro servants of the trader bustling about the
place. Dropping their pelts on the stone flagging of the _stoep_,
Steve and his comrades squatted down on the steps.

"Hi, there, my black lady," sang out Jim, "reckon we want that Dutch
master o' yours. Fetch the boy along."

The negro servant giggled, stared with open admiration in her big eyes
at the sturdy backwoodsman, and then departed into the house. They
heard her call out in broken Dutch, and soon a heavy tread within
showed that someone was coming.

"Now, Steve, reckon you've got to best this 'ere Schiller," said Jim
in a warning voice. "Yer did the trade for us last year, and there
ain't a doubt as he was more liberal than ever before. See what yer
can do this time. H-hush! it's the old gal. He's trying the same old
game."

As he spoke an exceedingly fat and unwieldy woman waddled to the open
door of the house and pushed her head out. She looked calmly, almost
contemptuously at the trio seated on the _stoep_, and then called out
in very broken English.

"Hans Schiller," she called, "there's mens here." Then turning again
to the trappers she cried, "Vot for yo vant?"

Steve tapped the piled-up skins. "Pelts for exchange, madam," he said,
with a little bow. "We are waiting to see Hans Schiller. Ah, here he
is. Fill up your pipes, boys."

Steve had been to Hans Schiller before, and had gone all through
the excitement of trading with him. He remembered that on the last
occasion he was constantly interrupted by Jim or by Mac, and thought
that a pipe might help them to remain silent.

"That's the sort, boys," he said. "And just remember, a man can trade
best when he's left to himself. Keep a hold on your tongues. Howd'y
Mr. Schiller? It's a fine summer."

The Dutchman, who had just emerged from the doorway, thrust out a hot
and very fat hand, and allowed Steve to grip it, wincing as the strong
fingers squeezed him.

"Stop! These men are wild beasts," he exclaimed beneath his breath,
and in somewhat better English than his wife boasted. "He squeeze
my hand so last time, and the others always the same. Good day,
gentlemens. You vant me? Ah, you have some skins. That is sad, ver
sad."

He cast a swift look at the piled-up pelts as he exchanged a handshake
with Jim and Mac; and Steve, who watched him carefully, noticed that
a covetous look came over his fat face. But Hans was quick to smother
it.

"Ver sad indeet," he repeated, shaking his bald head. "You come to
Albany ver late. All the trapper come and gone perhaps month ago. I
hab bought many skin this summer."

"Then we'll not trouble you, Mr. Schiller," said Steve quickly, giving
Jim a knowing wink. "We came straight to you because we have always
been here. But if you've already bought as much as you want--why,
mates, we'll get on further."

It was ludicrous to watch the expression on the various faces. Mac,
with the quick wit of his race, grasped Steve's meaning and intention
in an instant, and puffing clouds of smoke from his pipe, rose to his
feet and shouldered one of the bales. But Jim possessed a somewhat
slower intelligence in such matters. He was no trader, and knew
nothing of the subtleties of bargaining. His mouth opened wide in his
consternation.

"Thunder!" he began. "Blest ef the lad----"

"Jim, what are you waiting for?" asked Steve suddenly. "Can't you
hear? Mr. Schiller's bought all he wants, and now we're off down the
town to the other folks. Bustle up. We want to get out of this as soon
as possible."

"Not so quick, frens," exclaimed Hans, putting a restraining hand on
Steve's shoulder and speaking in somewhat anxious tones. "I can buy
more if they are good. Sit down and let me see them. Gretchen!"

The three trappers returned to their seats, and the trading was
begun. Steve had a very good notion of the value of the skins, and he
knew that high prices were to be obtained for them in New York. He was
also aware that the trapper as a rule bore all the fatigue and risk of
getting the pelts, and was miserably rewarded. He was not avaricious,
but at the same time he knew the needs of his comrades, and, unlike
them, had the courage to face a possible failure in the negotiations.

"I shall be ruint! Indeet, you will take all that I hab," grumbled
Hans, when all the skins were displayed, and Steve had demanded more
than double the amount of powder, lead, and other commodities which
the Dutchman offered. "I shall be ruint! Nod anoder dollar's worth do
you hab. Dat is all. De last cent."

Steve smiled one of his easiest smiles and looked coaxingly at the
trader.

"Come, Mr. Schiller," he said pleasantly, "don't let it be said that
you lost such a chance. This is the finest lot of skins that you have
seen, that you admit. A pity if you let it go to the others farther
down the street. Come now, make another offer."

Not for one moment did he become flurried or lose that air of
confident assurance which he had worn from the very first. And after a
little while the deal was settled and the trio rose to go.

"Reckon you're the 'cutest feller as ever I set eyes on," said Jim, as
they trudged back to the camp, half a dozen of the Dutchman's negro
servants in their wake bearing sundry bales and boxes. "That 'ere
deal war the finest as ever I listened to, and, shucks! ain't you a
cool 'un! I didn't jest dare to look at yer too often, nor at Mac nor
Hans. I jest sat and smoked, gripping at me pipe ter keep meself from
splitting with laughter. Reckon it war better nor an Injun palaver,
and that 'ere Hans knew he was beat. Yer watched him give a gasp when
you was for movin'?"

"I did," answered Steve. "You can be sure that Hans Schiller lives and
grows fat on his earnings. He need never stir out of his house till
late in the summer. Then he floats down the Hudson in a flat-bottomed
boat, and trades his skins at New York for dollars. A few of those buy
the stuff he needs for trading with the trappers, and back he comes,
with a sack and more of dollars, and with nothing to do but smoke his
pipe all through the winter."

"We've had some friends enquiring after us," said Steve's father when
the three had returned to the camp. "A couple of Indians have been
questioning Silver Fox and Talking Bear. See them over there."

They swung round, and looking in the direction he indicated, caught
sight of a couple of feathered heads peeping from behind the trees.

"I don't like them fellers," said Jim quickly, staring at the heads
till they were withdrawn. "What air they after?"

"What do they and their sort generally want?" was Tom's rejoinder.

"Scalps and lead, and sich things as we've jest brought here," Jim
answered swiftly. "Reckon we'll have to keep an eye round for them
varmint. What do yer say, Silver Fox?"

He suddenly broke into the Mohawk tongue, which all understood, and
for a little while all joined in an earnest and low-toned conversation.

"They ain't after no good, I'll swear," said Jim, with emphasis.
"Reckon we'll have to go careful, mates."

"Then I vote that we give it out that we are staying here till
to-morrow or the next day," broke in Steve. "That will make them
keep a careless watch upon us perhaps, and to-night we can slip away
unseen."

It was a good suggestion, and brought a grunt of approval from Jim.

"It air a good idea, young feller," he said, as he smoked his pipe.
"Jest get out something to eat and pass it round. After that we'll put
in a sleep, as if we was fixed to stay here best part of a week. Ef
any one comes axin' questions, jest tell 'em what we've arranged."

At such a time all knew well that they could not be too careful,
for though a large number of French and their Indian allies would
not have ventured to Albany, seeing that this was undoubted British
territory, and the Dutch were partisans of the colonists, still the
sleepy little trading town was just the place where a roving band
of small dimensions might take up its quarters, or rather in its
immediate neighbourhood, sending some of their scouts into the town
to gather information. And a small band, such as Steve and his friends
comprised, with their store of powder and other trade goods, would be
a very valuable capture. They could not therefore be too careful, and
in order to make it appear as if they were intending to stay for a day
or more, Steve and Silver Fox lay down to sleep, while Tom and the
others lounged about the camp.

"Reckon I'll stroll along the houses," said Jim, after a while. "Maybe
I'll see some more of these 'ere fellows."

He rose to his feet without another word, and was on the point of
leaving the camp when Steve sat up.

"I'll come too, Jim," he cried out. "I can't sleep, and a little
exercise will do me good."

"Then hop along, young 'un. One of these days, when you've grown older
and ha' got more larnin', you'll find it's a wise man who puts in
sleep when he's the chance. Pick up that 'ere gun. Yer never knows
when a bullet won't be useful."

They left their friends lolling about the camp, and strolled into the
town. There were one or two stores to be found, and they hung about
these for a little while, staring with all a backwoodsman's curiosity
at the goods displayed for sale.

Then they strolled on again till they reached the far end of the
street.

"Reckon ther's one of them skunks a watchin'," said Jim, suddenly
stopping and calmly filling his pipe. "Jest you walk on, Steve, while
I get a light. It'll give me a chanst to turn round."

He sought for his tinder and steel, and began to strike the flint,
turning his back to the wind and to his young companion, who strolled
on. Two minutes later he had come up to Steve again.

"Jest stroll on as we air, easy like," he said in low tones. "I war
right. One of them redskin varmint's got his eyes on us."

"Then we'll slip into the wood up here, as if for a stroll, and when
we're hidden we'll turn and watch. What do you say, Jim?"

"That's the ticket, lad. Easy does it."

A little while later the two were making their way through the wood,
which grew densely close up to the houses at this end of Albany.
They threaded their way in amongst the trees in single file, each
unslinging his musket as he stepped out of sight of the road. When
they had gone a quarter of a mile Jim came to a sudden halt.

"Jest take cover, Steve," he said softly. "I'll get ahead, so as to
let that Injun guess we're still movin'. When he comes along, stand up
in his way. That'll put a stop to his little game for to-day at any
rate, and'll let him see as we're awake."

A moment later the crash of brushwood being swept aside told that Jim
was pushing on into the wood, making far more noise then he would
otherwise have done. Steve took his stand in a dense mass of bush,
and stepping on to the trunk of a fallen tree, kept a careful watch
on the track which they had just covered. And very soon he caught a
fleeting glimpse of a feathered head, and of the tip of a barrel.
Within three minutes a painted redskin suddenly came into full view,
his eyes glued on the track. He was stepping along at a rapid pace,
his nostrils distended, his feet making not a sound as he trod, and
all his senses engaged in tracking those who had preceded him. As
he came opposite the bush, Steve stepped out without so much as a
rustle and confronted the man, causing him to come to a sudden stop.
For once the coolness of an Indian was upset. He gave a low grunt of
astonishment, and in a twinkling his musket was presented at Steve's
head. For just one brief instant our hero stared into the barrel, and
then, quick as thought, he ducked. There was a loud report, a tongue
of flame and smoke spurted almost into his face, and his coon-skin cap
was lifted from his head and carried into the bush behind. Then, long
before he could use his own weapon, the Indian was upon him, his keen
tomahawk gleaming in his hand. Lucky it was for Steve that the stock
of his musket caught the blade of the Indian's weapon, for had it not
done so, his head would have been crushed by the blow. But though
taken unawares, fortune was on his side, and an involuntary movement
warded off the blow. Then he dropped his musket, grasped the Indian's
arm, and in an instant they were rolling on the ground in a death
struggle, the redskin making frantic efforts to strike with his
tomahawk, while Steve gripped the red-painted throat with his fingers,
and clung there with all his strength. Not a cry did either give. It
was one of those silent and desperate contests which the backwoods had
often seen, and nothing but the gasping breaths of the combatants told
what was happening.

[Illustration: "THE INDIAN WAS UPON HIM, HIS KEEN TOMAHAWK GLEAMING IN
HIS HAND"]

"Reckon that war a close shave, young 'un," said Jim, in his quiet
voice, some few minutes later, staring at Steve as he lay breathing
heavily on the ground. "That 'ere varmint was out to kill, and didn't
reckon as you'd get a grip of his throat so early. Take a word from
Jim. When you've got the best of an Injun, never feel safe till he's
dead. There ain't nothing in this world to touch 'em for cunnin'. He
knew you was holding his tomahawk arm, and in another half minute he'd
have been strangled. So he dropped his blade and used his two hands to
shake yer off. Lucky I come along."

Jim had indeed arrived just in the nick of time, and it was well for
Steve that his tomahawk had put a sudden end to the contest.

"Reckon it'll be a case of walk quick," said Jim, after a few moments'
silence. "We can hide this here critter for a few hours, maybe a day
or more. But they'll find him sure enough, and then there'll be a
howl. Best get back to the camp." He then picked the dead man up,
and stepping some yards away into the thickest bush, placed the body
beside a fallen trunk.

"They'd find that as easy as walk," he said, as he returned, "but
we'll put 'em off the trail. Come along, young 'un. We'll get back to
the camp."

"And what about the other Indian?" said Steve suddenly. "He's watching
there, isn't he?"

"Reckon that's so, Steve."

"Do you think that he and this man were alone, Jim?" asked our hero.

"You ain't so 'cute by half as I thought yer," was the answer. "Reckon
there's a band of 'em that has made Albany their station. Like as not
they've wiped out a power of small trading trappers. These here chaps
air their scouts."

"Then let's find the band and take a look at them. Look here, Jim,
we'll make through the wood till close to the camp, and pick up the
tracks of these scouts. Then we'll----"

It was comical to watch Jim as he grasped his young companion's
intentions. He swept his skin cap from his head, and darted a keen
look at him.

"That air 'cute," he said. "Reckon I withdraws what I've said. That
air the movement for us."

Without further conversation they struck off into the forest, Steve
following closely in the wake of the hunter, and neither making
so much as a sound. Presently, when they judged that they were
approaching their own camp, they came to a halt.

"I've been thinkin' of that 'ere gun shot," said Jim. "But these trees
has made it safe. Reckon no one at this end has heard the sound. Let's
divide."

A quarter of an hour later, when they came together at the same spot,
Steve was able to report that he had come upon a trail in the forest,
and that the marks showed plainly that it had been used by two men at
least, and probably by half a dozen.

"It's been in use for a couple of months, I should say, Jim, and I
think that quite a number must have been along it. There are fresh
marks of two moccasined feet."

"Then we'll strike along it and see where it takes us, young feller,"
was the answer. "We've dropped upon somethin' as may save our scalps.
Jest strike off for it. I seed that other varmint keepin' watch on the
camp. He ain't got a thought that his brother has gone to the happy
huntin' grounds. That 'ere shot never come to his ears, or else he'd
have been looking into the matter by now. Reckon the strong wind and
the trees drowned it."

They stood for a few moments preparing their muskets, each powdering
the pan afresh, and looking to the flint, for a misfire might have
disastrous consequences. Then Steve led the way, and in a little while
they had struck into the trail which he had found. An hour's fast
walking took them some six miles into the forest, when, seeing that
the trail still went on, they broke into a dog trot, which both were
well able to keep up for hours at a time. As it happened, however,
another hour took them to some rising ground, where the forest grew as
thick as ever, and where other tracks, many of them quite fresh ones
too, told them that they were in the immediate neighbourhood of a camp.

"That air the whiff of terbacca," said Jim, raising his voice barely
to a whisper, and sniffing at the air like a dog. "We're makin' up
wind, Steve, and ef I ain't right, why----"

"It's smoke," answered Steve with conviction. "Let's get on."

Stealing forward with their bodies close to the ground, it was not
long before the two came in sight of the camp. It was similar to any
other trapper's camp in its surroundings. There was a fire in the
centre of a narrow clearing, and three or four rough skin shelters
were erected under the shadow of the trees. Lounging round the fire
were some twenty redskins, while a squaw was busily engaged in tending
some cooking pots which swung over the flames.

"This air a find," whispered Jim, squeezing Steve's arm. "These here
critters has come to stay, and I reckon there ain't any other redskins
within miles, or else this camp would ha' been discovered long ago. A
hul tribe might camp under the noses of these fat Dutchmen without a
one bein' the wiser."

"And just look at their stores," whispered Steve, pointing to a number
of barrels and sacks and bales piled up beneath one of the skin
shelters.

"The critters!" growled Jim. "That air the trade of many a small band
of trappers same as us. Reckon them chaps has plenty of scalps. Look
thar!"

This time there was an unusual amount of emphasis in his words, while
his long brown hand shot out, and a finger pointed to the other side
of the camp, where one solitary figure was seated. Steve followed his
finger, saw the man and watched with dilating eyes as he rose and
turned towards them. He was a pale face, a white man like themselves,
tanned and weather-beaten, and some twenty-five years of age. He was
decked as an Indian, and resembled them exactly, save for the fact
that his face was not painted.

An exclamation of dismay burst from Steve. He crouched still lower
in the bushes, and then silently withdrew, fearful lest this white
man should see him. Jim, too, slid silently away, and very soon the
two were speeding back to their own camp at a fast trot, their senses
fully alert and their thoughts occupied with the white man and the
band of Indians whom they had just discovered. A little later they
turned to the left, crept undetected into the town, and strolled in
the most casual way into the camp. No one looked up as they entered,
but all had been anxiously awaiting them, that was evident, for the
eyes of their comrades stole across in their direction, their long
absence having roused the fears of the others.

"Air dinner ready?" asked Jim casually. "Then suppose we set down to
it."

"We're in a muss," he said some little while later, as all squatted
about the fire. "One of them critters that was watchin' followed us
through the town and into the wood. It war almost a case with Steve.
But we dropped the man. After that we struck the track at the back of
this camp, and come upon the band. Boys, there air twenty of 'em at
least, and wuss than all there's a Frenchman leadin'. It's that 'ere
Jules from over the water."

An exclamation of amazement and dismay burst from the listeners, for
Jules Lapon had won an unenviable reputation during the past three
years. During that period hundreds of peaceful settlers and backwoods
people had been butchered by the Red Indians, hounded on by the
French, and in many cases French colonists and regular soldiers had
been with them. Bands of desperadoes had ranged the forests, and of
these there was none more cruel, more successful and more feared than
that of Jules Lapon, a young Frenchman who had settled some years
before within a few miles of Tom Mainwaring's quarters. No wonder that
the small band of trappers stared aghast at Jim for some few minutes.
Then they found their voices, and began to discuss their future
movements.

"Reckon there ain't any doubt as to what's to be done," said Jim. "Ef
we stay here till the winter falls, they'll still be waitin'. These
here Dutchmen can't give no protection, so we're bound to look to
ourselves. We'll have to git, and the sooner the better."




Chapter III

Flight by Night


As the dusk came and settled down upon the peaceful town of Albany,
it found the little band of trappers seated about their camp fire,
smoking heavily and discussing the question of their flight in earnest
and low-pitched tones. They had already taken their evening meal, and
were ready to set out at any moment. But so far there was not a sign
of preparation. To the casual or the curious onlooker, the little
party seemed to have every intention of remaining overnight, more
particularly as the sky was overcast, and the rude leather shanty
which they had been busily erecting showed that they expected rain,
and had prepared a shelter.

"You wouldn't think that there was a question of danger or of our
clearing out, boys," said Judge Mainwaring, as he stared round at his
comrades. "This town of Albany looks as peaceful as possible, and
yet----"

"And yet the facts are clear," burst in Steve. "I suppose that if
Albany were filled with Englishmen it would be a different matter."

"That it would, young 'un," chimed in Jim, taking the stem of his
black pipe from between his teeth. "And there ain't no sayin' that
these Dutchmen wouldn't help us ef we went to 'em. But they ain't here
to fight. Reckon they're fer trade. Ef it was our own people, why we'd
get 'em together, and them varmint out in the woods would soon be
scattered."

"As it is there is no chance of doing that," said Tom Mainwaring
quietly. "I've been thinking this out, boys. If we went to the Dutch
I doubt very much that they would move to help us. They are traders,
as Jim says, and though I believe they are certainly on our side and
opposed to the French and their Indians, yet at the present time even
that is not too certain. We've got to depend on ourselves. We might
wait here for a week, but this rascal Lapon will wait also, and he
will watch us like a hawk. We must move, and this very night too, for
at present they think no doubt that we do not know of the existence of
this band. If we wait they may suspect us----"

"There's the scout we killed," ventured Steve.

"True, there is the scout. They will find him by to-morrow morning,
and then they will watch us all the closer. It will rain soon, and we
must move."

"Hold hard," said Jim suddenly. "We've got to git, that's as clear as
this fire, but thar's that 'ere redskin watchin'. It 'ud take him an
hour perhaps to get back to his camp and then the hull lot 'ud be down
on us."

That was a point which none had considered, and for a little while
they sat staring into the embers, doubtful how to act. In these days
of peace, when the neighbourhood of Albany is as secure as that of New
York or of London, and when the banks of the Hudson and the Mohawk and
the country adjacent are comparatively thickly populated, it is hard
to believe that a party of trappers could be in danger of attack. But
in the year 1756 it was very different. Thick forest spread over the
land, with very few settlements, and still fewer log huts. In time
past many and many a pioneer and trapper had forced his way far on
into the valley of the Ohio, that promised land, and had there erected
his rough shelter. But there were competitors in the field. France
was not content with that huge stretch of America to the north of the
St. Lawrence and the great lakes. She was pushing south, building
forts and peopling the land. For some years, as the reader will have
already gathered, these hardy French soldiers and _voyageurs_, with
their fierce Indians, had been pressing south and west, exterminating
the helpless British colonists. The man who dared to step outside the
towns and plunge into the forests took his life in his hands. Bands
of desperadoes wandered hither and thither, and the old calling of
the trapper was almost extinct. It was therefore not so wonderful to
find danger threatening Steve and his friends on the very outskirts of
Albany.

"Oi'd loike to hear what Silver Fox and Talkin' Bear has to say,"
sang out Mac, thrusting his red head into the full light of the fire.
"They have sat there loike two logs of wood, and sure they've not yit
opened their mouths. Let thim spake and we'll listen."

"Then what shall we do, Fox?" demanded Jim, breaking into the Mohawk.
"You know what's happening."

"It will rain to-night, my brothers," was the answer, "and we must go.
But this scout must die before we venture from the camp. Talking Bear
and Silver Fox will see to this matter."

He glanced round at each one of the party, grunted and nodded to his
countryman.

"It is well spoken, brother. He must die," was the short answer.

"Then we'll turn in," said Jim.

One by one the white men of the party stood up, looked about them and
then crept into the "shanty," for rain had already begun to fall. And
soon Silver Fox joined them, while outside, swathed in his blanket,
motionless, stood Talking Bear, guarding the camp during the first
hours of the night. His figure was hardly distinguishable even against
the dull light of the fire, but all knew that the Indian watcher
had his eyes on him. And so two hours passed, till the embers were
drenched, and the night was very dark. Not till then was there a
movement in the tiny shanty. Steve sat up beside Silver Fox, returned
the pressure of his hand and slipped from the cover. Crawling across
the camp he touched Talking Bear, and in an instant they had changed
places. Steve was now the sentry, swathed in a blanket, tall and
erect. Almost at the same instant there was the hoot of an owl away in
the forest.

"Them 'ere critters has jest the finest eyes," growled Jim. "Reckon
though that they heard somethin'. There goes Silver Fox. We'll give
him an hour."

But less than half an hour had passed before the silence of their camp
was disturbed. First came the loud hoot of an owl, and then away in
the forest was heard the sound of a conflict. Branches snapped, there
was a dull thud, and then silence again.

"We have failed. The scalp of this scout who watched the camp hangs at
my belt, but he had two others with him. They are gone."

Silver Fox had made not so much as a sound on his return, and his
voice was the first thing that warned the occupants of his presence.
They sat up with a start while various exclamations burst from them.

"There is not a moment to be lost," said Tom, with decision. "We must
pack and paddle for our lives. That band will never rest till they
have the scalps of every one of this party."

There was unusual bustle in the camp at once, the members of the party
going about their work with method and in perfect silence. Mac and
Steve soon had the leather shelter stripped and folded, and by the
time they had carried it down to the canoes, the others had placed
all their goods in the smaller one. Then they took their places, and
at a word from Tom they pushed out from the bank, Steve sitting in
the second canoe, his musket across his thighs and his eyes glued on
the bank. The five in the leading canoe grasped their paddles and
used them with a will, Tom setting the time, and pushing the water
back with lusty arms which aided not a little in their progress. They
swung up the centre of the stream, turned to their left and entered
the Mohawk. Morning found them many miles on their way, still paddling
steadily up the centre of the river.

"It were well to consider, my brothers," said Silver Fox, speaking
for the first time since they had left Albany. "The sky is clearer,
and the rain no longer falls. At present the mist hides us, but in a
little while the warmth will suck it up and then we shall be seen."

"And yer think them critters is after us?" demanded Jim.

"They left their camp within the hour of our departure," was the slow
answer. "They are now well on their way."

Jim had had no need to ask that simple question. As an old and
experienced trapper he knew well enough that the alarm must have
reached the camp of the enemy within a very little while of their own
departure, and it needed no consideration to tell him that they would
make up the Mohawk river.

"They kin tell as we ain't got no business towards New York," he
growled, "and this here route air the only one that's left. Reckon
the varmint air well on the road. They'll have canoes hid somewhere's
within reach, and it won't be long afore they're out on the river.
Boys, we've got to choose between holdin' on to those paddles or
takin' to the woods."

"Lose all our stores!" demanded Mac, indignantly. "Sure if we take to
the forest we'll have to lave these canoes and the things, and for
what is the use of that? Arrah! Lit's kape to the paddles, and if they
follow we'll use our guns."

"You forget one thing," said Tom Mainwaring, in his quiet and judicial
tones. "We have paddled through the night. These rascals have been
walking and running. Their arms will be unwearied. They will certainly
overhaul us. There is nothing for it, I fear, but to strike across to
the south bank, hide our canoes and stores as well as we are able, and
then take to the trail."

There was, indeed, little else to be suggested, and it was with sad
hearts therefore that the little party turned the bows of the canoe
towards the far bank. It was lighter now, though the mist still hid
them, an occasional gust of wind blowing a portion of it away, for all
the world as if it were a curtain, and disclosing something of their
whereabouts, the surface of the silent river, the far bank, or the
forest on that side for which they were making.

"Steady a minute. Stop!"

It was Steve's voice which broke the silence, and as they craned
their necks to look back at him, they saw the long figure of the young
trapper stretched in the small canoe, his musket still across his
thighs and one hand upon it. The other shaded his eyes, as if the mist
worried him.

"Stop!" he called again in the lowest tone. "Wait while I come up with
you."

There was a paddle beside him, placed there to enable him to steer
if occasion should make that necessary, and while his friends backed
water, he drove his paddle into the river and swung his canoe round
till it lay alongside the other. To have endeavoured to bring it up
directly would have been useless, for a short tow rope connected the
two.

"You said that they would have canoes somewhere within reach," he
said. "I overheard it, and I believe I have seen the very spot. The
wind blew the mist aside suddenly, and I saw a tiny inlet. It is
blocked with weeds and osiers, and they too were disturbed by the
wind. I am sure that I got a glimpse of the bow of a canoe."

"Jupiter! That's a find," burst out Jim, while Tom and Mac nodded
approvingly. "Reckon we'll git across to them boats and break 'em up.
Boys, that air our ticket."

He plunged his paddle into the water, followed by the others, and
would have swung the canoe round had not Steve still clung to the side.

"One moment, Jim," he said easily and quietly, for he had inherited
his father's quiet and judicial manner. "Supposing you smash their
canoes. What then?"

Jim gasped. "What then! Why, they're fixed, young 'un. Thought you was
'cute. They ain't got no way left of followin', unless they runs like
dogs along the bank, and for that we don't care nothin'."

"That is, supposing they have no other canoes," answered Steve
quickly. "But is that likely. They know that if their boats are
discovered they are helpless. It seems to me that they may very well
have divided them. That's what we should do. In that case they would
still have a chance of reaching us."

"That 'ere lad air doin' his best to get even with the Judge,"
exclaimed Jim with a shake of his head. "Reckon, boys, that what he
says air true as gospel. Them critters will never have put all their
boats in one place. We'd best make for the forest straight."

Once more he would have swung the canoe away from Steve, but the lad
still clung to the side.

"We might try a surprise," he said eagerly. "These men will follow us
right away to the settlement, for Jules Lapon lives near there. We
can't go on like this for the next ten days, and if we don't stop them
they will be close to us before to-day is past. Let us wait and have
it out with the rascals."

This time there was no attempt to break away from him. All stared
eagerly into his sun-tanned face, while an exclamation burst from Jim.

"The boy has an idea," said Tom. "Out with it, Steve."

There was no time to waste, for even as they had hung in the stream,
drifting with the current, the mist had lifted still further. The sun
would be up very soon, and at any moment it might be clear from shore
to shore. Steve leaned over the side of his canoe and spoke swiftly
and in little more than a whisper.

"I've been thinking it over as we came along," he said. "We've no
chance unless we can stop them now, for they are many, and will follow
closely, and never give us a moment's rest. We shall be shot down and
scalped one after another. I thought of their boats and what we might
do. Then I suddenly caught sight of the bows of the one of which I
spoke. Listen! This wind and the rustling of the leaves will have
drowned the sound of our paddles. Even if the redskins are now on the
far bank I doubt whether they have heard us. But they are not there.
We have come faster than a man can walk, and you must remember that
they will have had to make their way through the forest. Let us get
over to their boats, slip ashore without leaving tracks, and hide up
under cover. Once we're there one of us can slip back to this bank
with our canoes, and can hide them, just leaving the bows of one to
show, as if by accident."

"Thunder! The lad's got it, Judge. Reckon you ain't in it with Steve.
Boys, he's told us what to do."

Jim sat up stiffly in his astonishment, while Silver Fox, who could
understand English, gave a grunt of assent.

"He was always a calculating, thoughtful youngster," said Tom, a note
of triumph in his voice. "The lad has suggested a brilliant plan."

Trappers were in the habit of making up their minds in a rapid manner.
Often enough there was no opportunity for discussion, and even when
there was they were not over talkative. Jim was perhaps the exception.
But now there was no need for chatter, and little time for delay. The
paddles plunged into the stream again, Steve pushed out from the large
canoe, and in a trice they were surging through the stream in the
direction of the opposite bank. A little later they were in sight of
it, and were paddling along beneath the overhanging trees.

"Jest about here?" asked Jim, his voice hardly a whisper, while his
hand pointed to the bank.

Steve stood up carefully in his frail support. His eyes were glued on
the bank and for some minutes he remained without movement, while the
canoes slid along through the water. Then, suddenly, his hand went
up. There was a bank of reeds and osiers, with a patch of wild rice
clinging to the edge, and a gust of wind happening to blow across the
water at that moment all saw the nose of an Indian canoe. Standing
still higher Steve was able to get a better view than his comrades,
and caught sight of four other canoes, all nestling in the osiers.

"We can't land here," he sang out softly. "The bank is bare of brush
and all trampled. Backwater and strike higher up the river."

Round swung the canoes and paddles sent the water frothing alongside
the frail vessels, for excitement was high, and all were eager to get
under cover.

"Them 'ere varmint might come along any time," said Jim impatiently.
"Reckon this air a find!"

"We can land there," whispered Tom, pointing to the bank. "There is a
rock, and perhaps deep water beside it."

A few strokes of the paddles settled the question. There were quite
three feet of water beside the rock, which was bare and brown. It ran
up on to the bank for some ten feet, and then gave place to dense
forest.

"Step ashore," said Jim, huskily. "Gently. Don't let the canoe strike
agin the rock, nor a paddle splash it. Them varmint'd spot it in a
jiffy. Talkin' Baar, reckon you're the one to git over to the other
bank."

In rapid tones he explained the movement required of him to the silent
Indian, speaking in the Mohawk tongue. There was a nod of approval,
and without a word the feathered redskin took up his paddle again and,
pushing out from the rock, made off across the river, the smaller
canoe with its load of stores trailing after him. In a little while
he was lost in the mist, while none could hear the dip of his paddle.
But presently, as the sun rose and sucked up the vapours lying like a
pall over forest and river, Steve and his comrades could see just the
tip of a canoe protruding from a thick mass of bush which clothed the
opposite bank.

"Reckon a baby Injun'd spot that," said Jim. "To look at it you'd say
as the wind or the wash of the water had shook it loose from the mud
and floated it out. These critters will see it right off, and will try
to slip over without a sound, so as to fall upon our party. Reckon
there'll be a surprise. Now, what's the ticket?"

"Let the boy tell us," whispered Tom, looking proudly at Steve. "We
owe this movement to him, and I think we all agree that he has had
good experience of the forest and of these Indians. Now, lad, where
are we to take up our stations?"

For answer Steve placed his musket on the rock, and, stepping softly
across it, swung himself into a tree, a branch of which overhung their
position. They watched him as he clambered up still higher and waited
patiently for him to descend.

"I vote that we divide," he said, as he dropped on to the rock again.
"When the enemy arrive and see the canoe over yonder they will be
all keenness to cross. They will think that we are lying hid in the
forest, and will guess that once they are out in the river they will
be seen. But remember that our canoes are supposed to be hidden away.
If we were over yonder, lying up in the bushes, we should keep under
cover and watch, hoping to escape discovery. These Indians will reckon
that, and I think will paddle down the far side, staring into the
bank. As soon as they get opposite our canoes, they will paddle in
with a rush."

"Thet air reason," exclaimed Jim. "What then?"

"My argument proves that they will be careful to get aboard on this
side without making too much noise. They will try to let it appear
that they have not seen our canoe. They will enter their own and push
out stealthily, for they are cunning."

"Cunnin'!" Jim clenched a huge brown fist, and would have growled out
something more had not Tom's warning hand restrained him.

"That will be our time. The bank of osiers is big, and they have
hidden up their canoes almost in the centre. So there will be room for
one gun in that direction. Then this tree commands their boats, and
has the advantage of being very thick. Supposing we divide forces, two
going into the reeds, and three into the tree? The three can swing
themselves up without leaving a trace, while the two who make for the
reeds can wade through the water."

"The boy is right. Even you or I could not have made better
suggestions," exclaimed Tom. "Let us get into our places."

At any moment now the enemy might put in an appearance, and fearful of
being discovered the whole party went to their places at once, Steve
swinging himself into the tree after his father and Silver Fox, while
Jim and Mac lowered themselves very silently into the river, which
came to their waists, and wading along entered the reeds. There they
took up a position which enabled them to command the canoes, while
they could see, and be seen by, their friends. And as they crouched
in their lairs the sun rose higher and higher, while the heat grew
greater. The air over forest and river became motionless, what breeze
there had been dying down entirely. Not a leaf stirred, while the
hundreds of birds which had heralded the morning with their bright
song seemed to have gone to roost again.

"Hist! That bird flew from down stream," whispered Tom, suddenly, as a
pigeon darted over the water and flew past their hiding place. "We can
expect the enemy. Watch the banks carefully."

But half an hour passed without another disturbance, and though all
strained their ears nothing could be heard. From his leafy perch
Steve saw Jim crouching in the osiers, and noticed that the cunning
backwoodsman turned towards the far bank, leaning in that direction
in a listening attitude. But evidently he heard nothing, for within a
minute he was engaged with the near bank, his eyes peering between the
osiers and the reeds. This was not the first time that Steve had been
pursued by the redskins, and his adventurous life in the woods had
taught him to maintain his coolness. But on this occasion, do what he
would, his heart would thump heavily against his ribs, while his pulse
throbbed in an unusual and disturbing manner. He stood in the lowest
fork of the tree, his back supported by the trunk, his musket in his
hands, and his eye roaming hither and thither. His lips were slightly
parted, and there was a determined look on his sun-browned features.
He felt no actual fear, only unusual excitement, and a vague wonder as
to what would be the end of this conflict. All through the night as
he lay in the canoe he had been thinking the matter out. He and all
his comrades were well aware of the evil reputation of Jules Lapon's
band, and to Steve it had become abundantly clear that, strive as
they might, they could not hope to reach their journey's end without
molestation. The enemy were too many. They travelled light, while he
and his friends carried stores, to which they were absolutely bound to
cling, for without them they could not exist through the winter. Then
surely it would be better to meet this band of rascals now, while they
too were fresh, and do their best to beat them.

"I am sure it is the right movement," he said to himself. "We have
a good chance of taking them by surprise, and an ambush is just the
thing to upset these redskins. If we can kill a few the rest may give
up the attempt. What is that?"

He started and leaned forward to look at Jim. The old trapper had
turned right round and was again staring at the far bank. Steve saw
him grip his musket barrel, and then signal to those in the tree. A
second later he had swung round once more, and was looking to the
opposite bank. Then Steve saw something of what was happening. A
minute earlier the tip of the bows of their own canoe was alone
showing, a bait to catch the enemy. But now the whole canoe was in
sight, and there was Talking Bear, stripped of his blanket, his paddle
in his hand, pushing out into the river with all his strength. And
after him floated the canoe laden with the precious possessions for
which they were being hunted.

Steve was dumfounded. He stared with wide-open eyes at the redskin,
and then swung round to Jim. The trapper crouched in the osiers like a
wild cat, and as Steve looked he signalled with his hand to those in
the tree. His long finger shot out, and for a few seconds he pointed
to the forest on their own side, warning them as well as he could by
means of sundry waves and nods to be in full readiness. Then he turned
to the river and repeated the signals.

"They're both sides of the Mohawk," gasped Tom. "Look there."

Stealing through the forest, and making for the canoes as rapidly as
was possible were four painted redskins, while away on the far side
a hurried glance shewed Steve the hideous heads of two more of their
enemies. Had there been any doubt on the matter it was set at rest
within a very few seconds, for the peace of the river was suddenly
startled by a sharp and loud report, which sent the birds soaring from
the branches. A bullet flew from the far side of the river and long
before the report had died down Talking Bear crumpled up as if he had
been struck on the head with an enormous hammer, and sprawled out in
the bottom of the canoe. Then the war whoop of the redskins burst from
the trees, that whoop which had set hundreds of white men and women
trembling. Some twenty heads burst from the trees on the farther bank,
and in a trice one of the painted warriors had leaped into the water
and struck out for the drifting canoes.

"He will get aboard and row them back," thought Steve, the meaning
of it all flashing across his brain. "Then they will embark, and no
matter how many of the men on this side are killed, the others will be
able to reach us."

It was clear, in fact, that on the possession of those two helpless
canoes depended the result of this momentous engagement. If they were
taken the little band of trappers would have the whole howling band
about them within a very few minutes, and then what chance would they
stand?

Steve did not hesitate. There was a stout twig growing close by his
hand, and in an instant his musket dangled from it by means of the
sling. His tomahawk flew from his belt to his mouth, where he gripped
it between his teeth. Then, light and active as a cat, he dropped
on to the rock beneath, his moccasins making not a sound, and ere
his father could gather his intentions the gallant young fellow had
entered the water.




Chapter IV

Steve makes a Suggestion


Two strides from the rocky bank took Steve into deep water, where he
struck out for the drifting canoes, his long and powerful strokes
cleaving a path for him through the river. Behind him he left his
father and Silver Fox dumfounded at his sudden action, and almost
inclined to follow. But they had another matter to occupy their
attention, for Steve had been very wary. He had soon realised that the
enemy were in two parties, and guessed that the four redskins making
for the hidden canoes were unaware of the presence of the trappers.
It was important that they should still remain in ignorance, and,
mindful of this, the young fellow had made not a sound as he departed.
The bush and the thick leaves of the tree had hidden him from the
keen eyes of the enemy, while his presence in the water was hidden by
the thick bank of osiers. So careful had he been, in fact, that the
redskins had no suspicions, and as their brothers on the far bank set
up their hideous war-whoop, the four who were stealing towards the
canoes sent back answering whoops, and thinking that longer caution
was unnecessary, they dashed towards the bank of reeds.

Crash! They were met with a volley, aimed from the tree and the reeds,
and hardly had the reports died down when Jim's voice was heard.

"Two of the varmint's down," he bellowed. "After the others."

Like a hound let loose from the leash this active trapper threw down
his musket and dashed through the reeds, his tomahawk in his hand,
while Mac went bounding after him, his coon-skin cap fallen from his
head, and his red hair blowing out behind him.

"Afther thim, the blackguards!" he cried, waving to Jim.

"Steady! Take the man to the right," shouted Tom suddenly, swinging
his smoking musket over his shoulder and reaching out for the weapon
which Steve had suspended to the tree. Up went the heavy stock to his
shoulder, the barrel poked out through the leaves and for one brief
second followed the crouching figure of one of the redskins, who was
making off through the forest. A loud report startled the silence, and
as Tom dropped the barrel the Indian leaped into the air, a discordant
shriek burst from his lips, and in a second he was rolling over and
over in the long grass and brambles for all the world like a rabbit
which has been shot when bolting.

"My brother has the eye of a hawk, even as has his son," said Silver
Fox, busily ramming down a fresh charge and powdering the pan of his
long musket. "Three of our number picked out one of these enemies,
and he died at once. Another was struck by a single bullet, and he
lies there, close to the reeds. The fourth will be slain within a
little while. Listen, my brother, there is noise on the far side of
the river."

There was indeed a commotion. For a little while the twenty or more
warriors over there had kept up their awful whooping, and as their
comrades on the near side had responded, the shouts and whoops became
even greater. But now that the rifles of the trappers had spoken
so suddenly and unexpectedly, the babel became even worse. Painted
redskins showed up openly on the bank, frantically waving their
muskets, while two stood in the water ready to reinforce the man who
was swimming out to the drifting canoes.

"They are as much startled and taken aback as are we," said Tom
Mainwaring. "Keep steady here, Silver Fox, and let us see what we can
do for the young hawk. My son will reach the canoes almost at the same
time as that redskin, and a bullet from us might help. Ah, they are
firing." While he spoke he rammed fresh charges into the two muskets
with feverish energy, his eyes all the time roaming from the surface
of the river to the figures on the far bank. As he had said, it seemed
more than likely that Steve would reach the canoes as soon as the
redskin, for his long powerful strokes were taking him through the
water at a rapid pace, and as if fortune had decided to help him a
slight breeze which had since got up came sweeping along the river and
drifted the two craft towards him.

"Stay here, my brother," whispered Silver Fox suddenly. "There are
others who are attempting to reach the canoes. Silver Fox will help
the young Hawk."

He dropped from the tree as light as a feather, and when Tom looked
down there was the Indian stealing along through the trees, his musket
trailing and one hand busily engaged in sweeping the ground before
him. This redskin had not lived the life of his race for nothing. He
knew that even in the excitement of all that was occurring there would
be ears on the far side of the river listening for sounds of an enemy,
and he was well aware that a broken branch, the crushing of some
piece of brittle drift wood, would give the enemy on the far shore
an inkling of what was happening. To him it was as simple as playing
to creep through the forest like a snake. Even Tom, who knew his
intentions and the direction he had taken, could not follow his track.
There was not even a swaying branch to show where he was.

Meanwhile Steve had made good progress, and was within a few strokes
of the canoes. Could he reach the one in which Talking Bear lay before
the Indian came up with it? No! There was a commotion in the water
on the far side of the frail craft, a red hand gripped the gunwale,
and as he looked the hideous painted face of the Indian came into
full view. His leg was thrown over the edge, and in a twinkling he had
taken his place, panting with his exertions, the water dripping from
his body and streaming from his scalp-lock and his feathered headdress.

[Illustration: "COME NEARER THAT I MAY KILL YOU EASILY," HE SAID]

"Come nearer that I may kill you easily," he said, gripping his
tomahawk and leaning towards Steve. "Come nearer, pale face, for if
you would flee I will dive in after you."

Steve made no answer, and indeed took little notice of the man.
Without pausing in his course, he surged nearer to the canoe, and then
suddenly dived beneath the water as if he were making for the farther
side. And very fortunately for him the rain of the previous night had
coloured the river a deep brown, so that it was almost impossible to
detect the whereabouts of anyone beneath the surface. The Indian stood
upright for a moment, staring into the water. Then he leaned one hand
on the far side of the canoe, and waited, his keen tomahawk poised in
the air, ready to strike the instant the pale face appeared.

"He will come up just beneath me," he said in guttural tones. "I will
see how far I can cleave this pale face. Pah! who but a pale face
would attempt such a manoeuvre? By taking his eyes from me for even a
second he throws his life away. His scalp is mine and shall hang from
my belt ere his comrades have time to fire at me. Ah! That was one of
their bullets."

A look of scorn passed across his ferocious features as a missile sent
from Silver Fox's weapon screamed past his ear. A miss was a miss to
this redskin warrior. He had no time for sentiment, for consideration
as to how near he had been to losing his life.

"Surely the pale face will rise," he exclaimed, his equanimity
somewhat upset by the fact that Steve had not yet appeared. "It is
long since he dived. His breath cannot last much longer. Ah! Perhaps
he turned back towards the bank when under the water."

He swung round to the other side, his draggled feathers and hair
swishing a cascade of water on to the surface of the river. But there
was no sign of Steve, nothing to tell where he had got to, nothing but
the frantic calls of his comrades on the bank.

"Look behind you. Look to the smaller canoe," they bellowed, for
their keen eyes had been watching the contest, and not a movement had
escaped them. "Dive! Leave the canoe!"

The Indian started, swung his head round, and then stood as if
transfixed. For the cunning of a redskin had for once been outmatched
by the astuteness and coolness of a pale face. Steve knew well enough
that the man who reached the canoe first would have the game in his
hands, and realised that were he to venture to the surface on either
side of the craft taken possession of by the Indian he would be
immediately tomahawked. An instant before he plunged beneath the
water a better plan had flashed across his brain.

"There is a spare musket in the store canoe," he said to himself. "If
I can only reach it."

Two strokes beneath the surface took him under the larger canoe and
away to the stern of the smaller one. He rose silently to the surface,
and as the redskin peered into the river, expecting him to rise at any
instant, our hero gripped the gunwale, lifted his head and shoulders
clear of the stream and groped with one hand for the musket. It was
there, just where he had left it, and in a very little while he had it
to his shoulder. It was not the place he would have chosen for a shot,
for it is no easy matter to hang to a frail canoe with the gunwale
tucked as it were beneath one arm, and lift a heavy musket to the
shoulder. However, Steve was not the lad to miss such an opportunity,
particularly when the safety and lives of his companions depended on
his success. He steadied himself with an effort, brought the barrel
in a line with the Indian, and as the latter threw his hands over his
head and leaped for the water, he took a steady pull on the trigger.
Instantly a frantic cheer burst from the near bank, while Steve slid
from the store canoe and clambered into the other.

"Well done, boy! Bravely done, Steve. Look out for those other
redskins. Paddle in if you can."

"Git yer fire iron filled," bellowed Jim. "Yer can't paddle away from
the critters. Ram in a charge."

But the backwoodsman had forgotten that Steve had been under the
water. Everything on him was thoroughly drenched, and no doubt some
moisture had leaked into his powder horn. He looked down at it, saw
that it was useless to reload, and then plunged a paddle into the
water.

"Cover me with your guns," he shouted. "If they come up I will club
them with the butt. My powder is saturated. Ah, here come the bullets."

Something screeched past his nose, and as he listened he heard the
mass of lead thud with a dull and heavy sound against a tree on the
bank. Then followed a dozen shots, one of which penetrated the side
of the canoe, while a second chipped a big corner from the end of his
paddle. A third lodged on the rock by which he and his comrades had
disembarked, and, ricochetting from it, flew off into the forest with
a scream which was even more disconcerting than was the sound made by
the bullets which had been so near to striking him.

"Bend low! Keep under as much as you can," shouted Tom. "Now, boys,
pick off some of those rascals."

The burly backwoodsman had taken his stand beside a small tree,
keeping the trunk between himself and the enemy, and now his musket
shot up to his shoulder; he took a steady aim at one of the figures
on the far bank and calmly pulled the trigger; for Judge Mainwaring
was not the man to lose his accustomed coolness, even though his only
son was in danger. Jim and Mac followed his example, while Silver
Fox stared for a moment at the foremost of the two redskins swimming
towards Steve. He dropped his musket suddenly, fell on his face and
slid down the steep bank into the water. None of those on the far side
saw his figure as he carried out the movement, and the wary native
gave them no opportunity after that till he had covered many yards.
Then as his head popped up from the surface the enemy on the farther
side set up a deafening howl, shouting warnings to their brother.

"Keep up the firing," said Tom, coolly. "Silver Fox will settle that
fellow and Steve will get clear. Hah! I doubt whether they are in time
to warn the rascal."

"They ain't," responded Jim, shortly. "He don't hear. The water's in
his ears and I reckon he ain't a notion what's happening."

It appeared indeed that this was actually the fact, for in spite of
the bellows of the redskins on the far bank their comrade still forced
his way through the water, evidently unaware that he would soon have a
second opponent to deal with. Suddenly the water swirled in front of
him, a hand shot out of the muddy depths and the fingers closed about
the tomahawk which the man carried between his teeth. Then, as the
draggled feathers of Silver Fox's head-dress emerged from the water, a
blade gleamed in the air. There was a dull crash, a shrill cry and the
contest was over. Silver Fox was swimming back to his friends, the
third Indian having meanwhile retreated to the other bank.

"Jest keep on pepperin' the varmint," sang out Jim. "They've given us
a good chance, and I reckon we've made a few of the critters sit up.
Keep at it, boys, so that they can't fire too strong at Steve and Fox."

Five minutes later Steve steered the leading canoe into the gap made
in the big bed of osiers, and having pulled in the second, with its
precious store of trade goods, leaped lightly ashore.

"I rather fancy we have had the best of that little action," he said
with a smile. "Talking Bear is the only one who has suffered. He was
hit in the head, and must have been killed instantaneously.

"That's one to them 'ere varmint, then," growled Jim. "How many air we
to put down on our side?"

"The two who swam out, and three others on the far bank, that makes
five," said Tom, counting them on his fingers.

"Sure, have ye forgotten the others?" asked Mac. "There was two kilt
by the first volley, and one that Tom fetched over with Steve's gun."

"There was that," admitted Jim, grimly. "Then there was the other
fellow. He skipped through the forest at a powerful rate, and I doubt
that we should ha' got him ef it hadn't been for this here Mac. Tell
'em how you worked it, lad."

Thus called upon, the short and sturdy Irishman pulled his cap from
his head and flushed as red as his own hair.

"Sure, Oi've a way of runnin'," he said. "Whin this redskin took off
through the forest Oi wint afther him as quick as Oi was able."

"And?" questioned Tom.

"And that's all. Sure Oi was up wid him before ye could wink, and thin
we rushed at one another. Thrust an Oirishman to pick up a bhit of
sthick whin a row's in the air. Oi caught holt of a fallen branch as
Oi ran, and when he jumped at me wid his tomahawk, faith I laid him
flat with the branch. He's kilt."

Very carefully did the little band check off the number of the slain,
their pleasure damped by the thought that only nine had fallen. For
the reader must recollect that these constant conflicts between pale
face and redskin were waged without mercy. To expect it from any of
the unfriendly tribes was to expect something which no redskin had
ever possessed. These inhabitants of the forest wildernesses were
trained to ferocity. The history of their tribal wars, of their
contests with French and English colonists, is one long tale of
atrocities, of frightful cruelties, of sudden attacks upon absolutely
defenceless settlements, of merciless butchery of women and children,
and of unheard of tortures practised on any who might happen to be
spared for a while. Was it wonderful that the white man, with his
natural inclination to peace and goodwill, and his abhorrence of
unfair fighting and of torture, should be driven in time to fight as
did these redskin fiends? Mercy on their part to a fallen enemy was a
mistaken virtue. Clemency was rewarded in the majority of cases by the
foulest treachery. The redskin who was set free to return to his tribe
after an unsuccessful attack too often would turn upon his deliverer
when danger was unsuspected, and within an hour of receiving kindness
from him, would murder him and his defenceless family, and make off
through the woods, triumphant at the thought of scalps so easily
obtained.

No. This was always war to the death. A wounded man was as good as
dead, for no quarter was asked for or given. Every additional man
brought to the ground was an advantage to the weaker side, and a
greater inducement to those who had lost him to wreak vengeance on
those who had brought about his downfall. Such was the barbarous
nature of forest warfare when Steve went on the trail.

"Jest nine of the skunks," said Jim, staring across at the farther
bank. "That leaves the critters jest about twenty. Reckon we ain't out
of this here muss yet."

"But we are better off by far," cried Tom. "Supposing the division of
these redskins had been the other way. Supposing there had been some
twenty-five on this side, and only four on the other."

"We hadn't a chance. Reckon we should ha' been wiped clean out by
this," said Jim, with emphasis. "Yer can't shoot down twenty-five,
however well yer may be posted. They'd have rushed us, most likely,
and then it would have been all up. As it air we're well out so far,
and I say as we owe it to this here Steve and to Silver Fox. Ef this
young feller hadn't slipped into the river and swum to the canoes,
them varmint would have been over here by now. I reckon it war a 'cute
idea to get a hold of that musket and shoot. How'd yer come to do it,
Steve?"

"Well, I didn't see a chance of getting possession of the canoes in
any other way," said Steve modestly. "If I had come up alongside after
diving, he would have killed me."

"As easy as you'd kill a fly," cried Jim. "You may take that as
sartin."

"Then I thought of the gun, and struck out under the water in the
direction of the smaller canoe."

"There was never a more astonished Indian," interrupted Tom. "Steve,
you've done well. All here agree with what I say. I'm glad you've
shown such 'cuteness. It does credit to my teaching, and I've done my
best to let you learn the life of a backwoodsman. But let us talk of
something else. We are not cut of the mess yet, by a long way. But we
have a litt'e time in which to breathe and look round. What will those
rascals do now, and how are we to get away up the river?"

He turned to Jim, as the most experienced of the hunters, and waited
patiently for him to answer. It was, indeed, a question which required
consideration, and even an experienced hunter and trapper, such as
Hunting Jim undoubtedly was, could not come to an instant decision.

"Reckon it air one of them points as wants a deal of figuring," he
said, as he scratched his head and stared across the river. "Yer may
bet as them critters is watchin'. They've got under cover, 'cos they
found as our firin' was better'n they thought. But they're thar. Them
bushes covers the hul crowd of 'em. Suppose we get to work at their
canoes first of all, and that'll give me a chanst to think out this
here matter."

Setting Silver Fox to watch the opposite side of the river, the four
trappers crossed to the osiers, taking good care to keep well out of
sight. They found the five canoes lying side by side, and at once drew
their tomahawks with a view to cutting holes in the sides and bottoms.
In fact, they were about to commence on the work when Steve gave a
sudden exclamation.

"Suppose we wait a little, father," he said eagerly.

"Wait! Supposin' them critters cross higher up?"

It was the wily Jim who asked the question, staring at Steve with
a grim smile on his lips. "Ah. Them varmint wants to make us think
they're stayin' over yonder. Them bullets came close."

Three reports rang out from the far bank as he spoke, and the shots
flew through the osiers, stripping a shower of flat leaves from the
reeds.

"Perhaps they guess we are about to destroy their canoes," whispered
Tom. "But I admit that they are likely to attempt to swim across
unseen, and come down upon us. We should make nothing of such a
crossing, and you may be sure that they would not. They would cut
down a few reeds to carry their muskets and their powder, and would
soon get to this side. If they try that game, we must slip away at
once, and we can rely on Silver Fox to give us a warning. Look for
yourselves. The river runs without a bend for a very long way, and our
look-out would detect any such movement."

"That air right. Reckon you've put it square, Judge," said Jim.
"What's this young Steve got to say? You was supposin'."

"I suggested that we should leave these canoes for a time. At any
moment we can destroy them, for a few slashes with a tomahawk will do
all that is required."

"That air so. What then?"

"One moment," answered Steve. "Supposing we were to get aboard our
canoes and put out into the river, what would happen?"

"Happen? Reckon you'd soon hear from them ere critters. Ef yer think
of doin' a thing like that, Steve Mainwarin', why you ain't the son
of Judge here. Ef yer want to get killed so badly, best paddle clean
across an' invite them fellers to wipe the hul party out properly. It
ain't in reason," he went on, hotly. "Ef we was aboard, all packed
together, they'd pick us off like birds."

"If they could see us," ventured Steve, smiling at Jim's excitement.

"Ef they could see us! Thunder! Do yer think there's a redskin as
wouldn't be able, even at night. 'Sides, the moon'll be up soon after
the night comes, and with the light they'd have, shootin' would be
easier. Jest shake yerself, Steve."

He looked severely at the young trapper, and then turned as Tom broke
in upon the silence which had followed the old backwoodsman's words.

"You wait a little, Jim," said the burly Englishman. "Steve has given
us a hint more than once in the past twenty-four hours. Try him again.
I'll be bound he's got something under that hunting cap of his. He's a
regular young conspirator. What is it, Steve?"

"Just this. We are stranded here I take it. We cannot move into the
river, for the Indians would shoot us down. They cannot easily cross,
for we have their canoes, and I am sure that they have no others
hidden along the river. That is why they sent four men along this
side, with instructions to paddle the whole lot across. Until the
night comes they can do very little. But once it is dark they will
send half their number over, and then we shall be in danger of attack.
So it comes to this. They can afford to wait, and, in fact, must do
so. We cannot. If we wait they will be across before the night is an
hour old, and then with a party on either side, even though they have
no canoes, they will have us."

Tom nodded emphatically, while Jim scratched amongst the osiers with
the soft toe of his moccasin.

"That air so," he drawled. "Then what's the ticket?"

"We must move. I thought that with these canoes to help us we might
manage to get away. Now, Jim, don't open your mouth as if you would
like to swallow me. Do you think these reeds would keep out a bullet
if piled fairly close together?"

For a second the trapper looked closely at the osiers, feeling them
with his hand. He tore one out by the roots, and then gripped it
between his teeth.

"They're soft and pulpy inside," he said, a light gathering on his
face. "Reckon, as they stand, a bullet would rip through 'em as if
they was only cotton. See that! Ain't I right?"

Another series of reports had suddenly rung out from the far side, and
again the leaden messengers tore through the osiers.

"Jest as ef they was cotton," he repeated. "But ef yer was to pile
'em close together, then I reckon a bullet would find it hard to get
through. Steve, you ain't such a duffer as I thought, not by a long
way. What're yer after?"

"Just this," laughed Steve, for his nimble brain had hit upon a plan
which might help the whole party. "We have five canoes here. We can
break up two of them, and by jamming the sides into two of the others
can raise the gunwales from the water. Then we can pack them with
reeds. They'll take a lot without sinking, for these stalks are very
light and buoyant. Once we're ready we can float them out between us
and the redskins, and then they can fire till they're tired."

Jim threw his cap in the air, and, unmindful of the fact that the
action immediately brought a shower of bullets, danced and capered
in the reeds. He was a queer and light-hearted trapper. For all his
sagacity and cunning, he was but a boy, and behaved like one when
anything out of the way happened.

"Cap'n," he cried, gripping Steve by the hand. "I ain't fit to lead
this party no longer. Reckon you've won the place. Boys, we air goin'
ter do as Steve says, and get the laugh on them critters."




Chapter V

Jules Lapon is Disappointed


Steve Mainwaring had suddenly leaped higher in the estimation of his
comrades, and even Tom Mainwaring, who was apt to look upon his son
with the proud eye of an indulgent father, now regarded him with eyes
which shone with strange enthusiasm. For Steve had done well. Even
when he was only a little mite he had shown courage, and as he grew
bigger and stronger, and mastered the ways of the backwoodsmen and
the habits of the Indians, amongst some of whom he was often thrown,
his elders had seen that he was a promising pupil, while the redskins
themselves had christened him the Hawk, no small compliment from such
a race. Then Steve had a great advantage. While learning the ways of
the backwoods, he had had an excellent education from his father,
which added something to his astuteness. And now, little by little,
these grizzled veterans of the forest were beginning to discover his
worth. They had already found in him a lad who could barter their
pelts far better than they could. Hitherto they had been always able
to rely upon his sagacity, his courage, and his shooting, and now----

"Cap'n," repeated Jim again, pushing his coon-skin cap back from
his bald head and gripping Steve's hand. "That 'ere plan air 'cute.
Thunder! One of these here redskin skunks wouldn't ha' thought of it,
and when they see us come out from the bank, why----"

The thought was too much for the old hunter. He stood staring into
Steve's face, taking closer stock of the lad perhaps than he had
ever done before, for familiarity with a person often makes us slow
to discover virtues, which, after all, are only buried beneath the
surface. Good points, which are hardly skin deep, and which have
escaped our notice hitherto, only become apparent when some unusual
incident brings them prominently before our eyes.

"That air a lad to be proud of, Judge," he said, wiping the
perspiration from his forehead. "Reckon he's lain quiet up to this,
or else we should ha' found him out. He's got a bit of your way of
stayin' quiet, and openin' his mouth only when he's axed a question or
when there's need for a lawyer or a cap'n. It's sartin he's got the
hang of this matter, and I votes that he leads till we're home agin.
'Twon't do no harm to us. What do yer say, red head?"

Mac doubled an enormous fist, shook it in Jim's face and grinned, a
grin which set his lips back from his teeth, and exposed a cavity
reaching almost from ear to ear. It was the grin of a man who has
suddenly heard good news, and who has had a load taken from his mind.

"Red head! Bedad, 'tis mesilf as will choke the loife out of ye,
Huntin' Jim. 'Twould be aisier for ye to stand out there and ax some
of thim varmint to put a bullet into ye, so it would. Red head!"

The knuckles of his tanned and brawny fist rested against Jim's nose,
but provoked not a movement.

"Waal, what do yer say?" Jim growled, his eyes flashing.

"Say? Sure that Oi'll be onaisy if Steve don't take over the place.
Faith, 'tis his idea, and a man should have the chanst of carryin' it
out."

"It is an honour, and one which the boy will appreciate," said Tom,
solemnly. "Steve, we appoint you the captain. Give your orders."

"Yes, give the orders, lad," cried Jim, his kindly features lighting
up with real pleasure, while he continued to stare at this tall young
hunter, noticing his good looks, his fearless and alert appearance,
and the good temper which lurked in every line of his sun-tanned face.
"You've settled about them canoes. Git along with the job."

Steve was somewhat overcome at the turn events had taken, but a glance
at his father and at his old companions soon assured him that they
were in earnest, and would support him.

"I feel too young for the task," he said, "but I grant the experience
will be a fine one, and may some day be of the utmost use to me. Then
we'll set to work. Take your hunting knives and slit two of the canoes
down through the centre of the bow and stern. Mac, get along and
cut a few vine tendrils, and keep that red head down. The redskins
couldn't miss you."

There was a roar at that, a hearty laugh which showed that Steve's
plan had encouraged the whole party, and had shown them a method by
which they might extricate themselves from a very awkward and serious
predicament. And to hear this young fellow commence his command by a
little good-humoured banter delighted them.

"Arrah, now, Masther Steve. Is that the way ye'd reward me?" cried the
jovial Mac, as he powdered the pan of his heavy musket. "Have a care,
me bhoy. 'Tis yerself as will be howlin' for mercy if Mac gets a holt
of ye."

Steve waved him away, and while the Irishman went to get the tendrils,
he and the others splashed through the oozy bed of the river, pushing
their way through the reeds till they came to the canoes hidden there
by their pursuers. Every now and again a report rang out on the far
side of the river, and a bullet whistled through the reeds, but
fortunately without hitting any of them, though some came very near.
Indeed, on one occasion they were in the greatest danger, for one of
the enemy, suspecting that they were amidst the reeds, crept higher
up the far bank, till he could get a full view of the nose of the
canoe which had first caught Steve's eye. He reckoned that if the pale
faces were there they would be in amongst the craft, and levelling his
barrel to what he thought must be the correct position, he fired.

"Thunder!" exclaimed Jim, as Tom's skin cap leaped into the air, spun
round, and flew in amongst the reeds. "Them 'ere varmint kin shoot.
Jest a moment while I talk to that critter. Get out of these reeds."

They crept to the bank and lay down under the bushes, while the active
trapper clambered into a tree and stared across the river. Presently
they saw his barrel come to the horizontal position, where he held it
till something caught his eye. Then the stock went to his shoulder,
his brown cheek fell closer to it, and his eye squinted along the
sights. There was a sharp crack on the far side, a spurt of flame
and smoke issued from the bushes, while a bullet ploughed into the
reeds, and thudded heavily against the bank. At the same instant
Jim's piece spoke, and as his comrades looked they saw the barrel of
a gun suddenly emerge from the cover opposite. It seemed to leap into
the air, and after it came the painted face and then the body of an
Indian. He stood stock still for an instant, staring at the reeds, and
then with a hideous yell fell face foremost into the river, his death
bringing loud whoops from his friends.

"Reckon that'll make 'em a bit careful," said Jim, clambering down
and reloading. "Them skunks had got to think that we couldn't shoot.
They'll see now that some of us know the business-end of a musket.
Them orders, Steve?"

"Let us tackle the canoes and make ready."

Once more they crept into the reeds, their hunting knives in their
hands. A few slashes cut through the strong sinews with which the ends
of the craft were sewn, while Steve divided the huge strip of birch
back along the centre. Another canoe was served in the same manner,
when they found themselves in possession of four pieces as long as
their own canoe, or almost so. And now they threw themselves on a
third canoe, erecting their strips along the side, and pegging them
in position with pieces cut from a tree, while Mac made all secure by
piercing the strips and lashing them firmly with vine tendrils. The
work came happily to their hands, for backwoodsmen were skilled in the
manufacture of canoes.

"That 'ere ship air ready," said Jim at length. "We can fill her till
the water comes above the gunwale of the canoe, and she won't sink."

"And if we care to carry out the same work with these other two, we
can have two ships floating side by side, and they at least should
keep out the bullets," said Steve. "What do you think?"

"Think! Ain't you the cap'n?"

"Then we'll do it. Let's get along with the job."

While Steve and Jim began to construct a second craft which would hold
a pile of reeds, Mac and Tom crept through the osiers, cutting bundles
away with their hunting knives. They kept steadily at the work till
they had cut down the greater part of the bed, leaving a thick outer
fringe to hide them from the enemy. The leaves were then lopped off,
and the stems piled into the first of the special craft constructed,
till they reached to a point above the high sides provided.

"Float her now and see whether she is top heavy," said Steve. "That
was a good idea of Mac's to put a few rocks at the bottom."

Very carefully they pushed the strange craft into the water till she
floated close beside their own canoe. Then they tested her stability
by pressing the load over to either side.

"As steady as you could wish," said Steve. "Her gunwale is a couple
of inches above the water, so she will ship very little. Now for the
second."

Within an hour they were ready, the two craft laden with reeds being
lashed firmly together and floated to the far side of their own canoe.
There was still a little to do. At Tom's suggestion Mac cut a couple
of stout boughs, and these were attached to the stem and stern of the
nearest craft, and the other ends to the stem and stern of the canoe
in which they would take their places.

"If a bullet does happen to come through, it will drop in the water,"
he said. "Again, we might find it convenient to set fire to the reeds
in the outer one, and make use of the smoke as a covering. The wind
is blowing right across to the far side of the river, and the reeds
happen to be well soaked after last night's rain. There would be
little danger of the covering being burned too soon."

"A grand idea," cried Steve. "What do you say, Jim?"

"That Tom and Steve air mighty 'cute, and don't want no teachin'.
Judge, I guessed as yer had somethin' in that big head of yours. That
'ere idea air almost better'n Steve's. Set fire to the reeds we will,
and a fine smoke them Injuns'll see. Reckon they'll be choked."

He went off chuckling to bring in Silver Fox, the latter having
meanwhile kept an eagle eye on the far bank.

"They have moved a little," he said slowly. "The enemy have spread up
and down the bank, and watch us like hawks. Do my brothers think to
paddle away? Surely there will be few of us to whom a bullet will not
come."

"And supposing we wait till it is dark?" asked Steve.

"Then our scalps will hang at their belts. A little sooner will make
no difference. Silver Fox is ready."

"And supposing again that we move off now and have some cover, for
instance, this, and set fire to the reeds in the outer canoe?"

Steve pointed to the strange craft which they had prepared, and waited
eagerly for the answer, for Silver Fox was a cunning Mohawk, and if a
thing could pass his eyes and meet with approval, then it was good. He
strode towards the growing reeds, tore one up by the roots and bit it,
just as Jim had done. Then he turned gravely to the party.

"The pale faces are great and brave foes," he said. "They press on and
on into the forests, which were the hunting grounds of the Indian, and
they forget the defeat they have suffered, the dead they have left.
Nothing can or will stop them. They die like buffalo, fighting for
their lives. Their cunning is at first as nothing to the cunning of
the Shawnees and other foes, and so their scalps hang in many and many
a wigwam. But death and loss have taught them. They have become men of
the river and forests themselves, and their cunning is great. Surely
the Great Father must have aided them, for how else could they have
thought of such a device. Silver Fox has spoken and is ready."

He walked to the tree at the foot of which Steve and Tom had
reverently laid the body of poor Talking Bear, and looked closely into
his face. Then he stooped, took the belt, the tomahawk, and the bullet
pouch of the fallen redskin, and strode down the bank.

"Farewell, my brother," he said. "You have been a faithful friend,
a kind companion, and a mighty fighter. The wigwam will know you no
more, and the men of the war parties will miss your strong arm. These
I take so that all may keep your memory."

It was a very simple little ceremony, but affecting for all that, and
caused Steve to gulp down something which seemed to fill his throat.
For the lad, though a skilful hunter, was not hardened to the ways
of the Indians and the pioneers of the forest. A life was a life, a
friend a friend to be mourned after his death and thought of often.

And so they turned away from the silent figure, leaving the still
form of the painted warrior lying there in his blanket, shaded by
the foliage of a mighty tree, which has long since been felled to
make way for the iron road which now bears the rapid conveyance of
this bustling century. Who of those thousands who pass along the line
and look out of the windows at the fascinating scenery of the Mohawk
think of the days of which we write, or ever paint in their own minds
the birch canoes which then were paddled over the silent waters, and
the painted faces which stole through the forests, hunting the pale
faces, the sturdy fathers of a sturdy race which now fills the land of
promise?

"Ready?" asked Steve, taking the lead. "Then, father, show us the way,
please, and take the paddle right astern. I will take that in the
bows, while Mac can use the one in the centre. Jim, we'll pile the
muskets just in front of father, and you will get in a shot if there
is an opportunity. One moment. Break up those spare paddles, Mac."

All stepped quietly into their places, while Steve waded into the
water and steadied the canoe, pushing the one which held their stores
well behind him. When all was in readiness, he waded still farther in
and sprinkled a little powder on the reeds which filled the strange
craft farthest away. A few strokes of his steel against the flint set
the powder fizzling, and in a minute one of the reeds, which happened
to be drier than the others, was well alight. Using this as a match,
he went all along the load, firing it at close intervals. Then he
came back to the stern and made ready to push the canoes out. And
meanwhile the flames had done their work. Licking round the portions
of the outside layer of reeds, which happened to be dry, they soon set
them ablaze, and then began to ignite the damper portions. A cloud of
dense black smoke rose above the reeds, and, caught by the wind, went
billowing out across the river. Almost at once fierce whoops came from
the far shore, and there was a commotion amidst the forest cover.

"Shout and dance, me beauties," laughed Jim grimly. "Set to at one of
yer war dances, if that'll do yer good. Reckon them 'ere varmint has a
notion we're burnin' their canoes. That's what all the rustle's about."

"They will slay us with the torture should it chance that we fall into
their hands," said Silver Fox gravely. "This is a sore blow to our
enemies."

"Then they have worse to follow," chimed in Steve. "I fancy that when
they see us floating away up the river they'll be more than a trifle
angry. Paddles out. Ready? Then, here we go."

He pushed slowly till there was way on the canoes, and then with one
vigorous push sent the whole lot surging against the barrier of reeds
which hid the party from the enemy. And as he pushed for the last
time, he leaned his full weight on the sides of the canoe, and with a
dexterous movement clambered aboard.

"Get hold of the paddle and make ready to swing round," sang out Tom.

"We come out bows on, remember that, and shall have to face their
fire. There goes the first musket."

They were out. The canoes had burst through the reeds into the open
river, and for a minute perhaps Steve looked at the opposite bank. He
saw a figure suddenly stand erect and emerge from behind a tree, and
watched as the barrel of a musket was levelled at him. There was a
loud report, a bullet whisked over his head, and smoke gushed from the
forest. Then there was a deafening explosion just behind him, and for
a few seconds he experienced the deafness and pain which are felt when
a weapon is discharged close to one's ear. But his eyes held to the
far bank, and once more he had need to praise Jim's shooting.

"That 'ere redskin ain't too careful," growled the trapper. "Ef he'd
put his iron jest a bit lower, he'd have plugged Huntin' Jim as sure
as I'm standin'. Reckon he ain't fit to try again."

It was true. The unerring eye of the trapper had fastened upon the
Indian as he levelled his musket, and Jim seldom made a mistake. He
was one of the hardy pioneers versed in Indian warfare who had learned
that it is better to hold one's fire and keep one's finger from the
trigger rather than send a bullet wide of the mark.

"Yer can't afford to miss, Steve," he had often remarked, when the
young trapper was out on some excursion with him. "Some of these days
yer may run into a crowd of them redskins, and then you'll know that
the man as can shoot has a chance of keepin' his scalp. Reckon the
chap as don't know how ain't fit to wear haar."

"Round with her. Paddle!" shouted Steve. "That's better. Now they can
fire till they are tired of the game. Whew! Doesn't it sound queer to
hear the bullets striking."

Indeed it did. As the paddlers forced the strange craft up the river,
their course was followed by frantic whoops and by a perfect hail of
bullets. As fast as twenty men could fire and load again the muskets
sent their contents at the floating target, and time and again the
leaden messengers crashed into the reeds, many passing through the
outer pile and lodging in the centre of the second one, proving that
Steve's suggestion was a good one. Occasionally a bullet would hit the
mark somewhere near the top, and a shower of shredded reed would be
scattered over the party. Then, too, numbers of missiles flew astern
and ahead, for the smoke upset the aim of the enemy.

And so for an hour Steve and his friends paddled up the river,
confident now of their security from bullets. As they progressed the
howling band ran abreast of them on the bank, and one or two of the
redskins actually entered the water in their frantic eagerness to come
up with the pale faces. But Jim put a stop to that. The smoke hid
him entirely from the sight of the enemy, while he himself had a good
view of the bank, and was well protected by the reeds. He stood in the
canoe, a pile of muskets at his feet, and just the top of his head
showing above the barrier. Then, every now and again, he straightened
himself a little more, his weapon went to his shoulder, and a shriek
told that the eye of the trapper had not erred. Indeed his good
shooting, the pace at which they paddled, and perhaps a failure in
ammunition soon resulted in a lull in the contest. Only an occasional
bullet now plunged into the reeds.

"We can say good-bye to them very soon," said Steve suddenly, craning
his head round the barrier. "A couple of miles up, Swan creek runs
into the stream, and that should stop them. They will have to swim or
climb, and in either case we can draw away from them. When I give the
word, cut away the canoes and upset them. A few blows with a tomahawk
will make them useless, and send them to the bottom. Is that right,
father?"

He appealed to Tom, for as yet this position of leader was strange to
him, and he felt somewhat abashed and modest, considering the age and
experience of his comrades. However, he had nothing to fear, for Tom
nodded energetically, while the garrulous Jim burst forth with a reply.

"Jest you recollect as you're the cap'n," he laughed. "When yer give
an order, why, let it be an order. No hankey pankey, lad. If Mac
don't set to and follow your words, why, pass him along to me. I'll
make short work of the feller."

"Bedad!" growled the Irishman. "Huntin' Jim, there'll be trouble for
ye sooner than ye expect. Will ye be quiet and listen to what the
cap'n's sayin'?"

They were a merry party now. Merry and light-hearted, as in truth they
had a right to be, for every minute lightened their danger. Indeed,
hardly an hour had passed when they came abreast of the creek of
which Steve had spoken. It was wide and shallow, and cut into a big,
sweeping hollow formed in the side of a long rocky ridge.

"There ain't a redskin as would attempt to swim it," said Jim with
decision, "and ef they make round behind the cliff, why, Steve, you
and me and Tom and Mac'll be at home long before they come out on the
far side. Reckon they'll give it up and get back to their huntin'
grounds. Boys, when we're back at the settlement we'll send the news
round, and there won't be another party making this side of the fall
for Albany. Murderin' cut-throats like them ought to be hounded down,
and ef they was our way----"

"We should root them out," said Tom, quietly, "No body of
self-respecting settlers would put up with such a state of things.
Against such a band we of the settlement are secure. But it will not
be always so."

He shook his head dubiously, while Jim and Mac nodded in agreement.

"Reckon the thirteen States has got to put aside their baby squabbles
and put their backs to this work ef we air to stay at the settlement,"
exclaimed Jim. "Trappers ain't powerful enough to stop the journeys of
the French and Injuns."

How true his words were likely to prove the reader will be able
to learn. For the time had come long since for concerted action.
France had set a covetous eye on the valley of the Ohio, on the
smiling forest country lying to the west of the Alleghany Mountains,
and resistlessly, unchecked as yet, she had poured into the land.
There had been no concerted movement to check her. The thirteen
States which then constituted our American colonies made no combined
movement against the enemy. For the most part they were absolutely
apathetic. And while they sat at their ease, surrounded by comfort and
security, hundreds and hundreds of the log huts and settlements of
their brothers were being ravaged by the French and their relentless
Indians. The guns and the courage of thousands of trappers and hardy
backwoodsmen were insufficient now to stem the torrent.

"The times are bad. There is trouble ahead," said Tom, thoughtfully.
"Let us hope it will pass by and leave our settlement undisturbed. But
I fear that that is too much to hope for. There is Jules Lapon."

Yes. There was Jules Lapon, leader of the most reckless and cruel
bands of Indians, and a near neighbour now of Tom and his friends.

"Well, we won't think of him and the troubles now," sang out Steve
cheerily. "We're well out of shot, and can cut the canoes adrift. Let
us get free of them and push on towards home."

They hacked through the creepers which bound the ends of the boughs to
their own canoe, and then cut holes in the two craft which they had
so deftly prepared, ripping the sides and throwing the reeds out into
the river. A few minutes later the canoes which had proved so useful
were sweeping along, hopelessly injured, and long before Steve and his
friends had turned round the bend of the cliff they had disappeared
under the water.

They dug their paddles into the stream now with a vengeance, and
sent their craft surging up the Mohawk, the echo of discordant yells
and whoops still coming to their ears. But they were secure from
pursuit, and never even troubled to look behind them. Turn and turn
about they struggled at the paddles, and in the course of seven days
found themselves at the end of their river journey. They had reached
the lake which emptied into the river, and their coming was greeted
by a tribe of Mohawk Indians. Then for two days they trudged through
the forest, the Mohawks helping to carry their stores. Above their
heads the branches grew in one long, continuous arch, hiding the
sun. Steve led the way, his record with this tribe of hardy warriors
now vastly increased after his recent exploits. His eye followed the
numerous blazes on the trees, slashes cut with Jim's tomahawk, and the
trappers' sure method of marking a path.

"The last stage, I think," said Tom, on the evening of the second day,
when they came in sight of water.

That evening there was a serious palaver round the camp fire, and
Silver Fox and his friends were rewarded with a portion of the stores.
On the following day when Steve and his friends stepped into a canoe
which had been hidden in the forest and pushed out on to this new
strip of water, the Mohawks waved a farewell to them from the bank.

"Health and strength go with you, our brothers," cried Silver Fox,
his features wearing their usual impassiveness. "Call should there be
danger, and Silver Fox and his friends will surely come."

Steve watched them as they dived into the forest, and then stared
down the river. They were on the Alleghany now, and a strong stream
was bearing them down to their own beloved settlement. Indeed, the
following day was hardly three hours old when all gave a shout of
recognition.

"Thar's the place. And thar's Jimmy!"

It was Jim who waved his cap and shouted, while a faint huzza came
back from the shore. They put the nose of the canoe towards a break in
the forest, and very soon Jim and Mac were greeting their wives, while
Tom and Steve looked on in silence. They unpacked the canoes, pulled
them up, and separated, Steve and his father making for their own
humble but comfortable log cabin.




Chapter VI

Left in Charge


"Marse Steve, Marse Steve, I'se that glad to see you. I'se prayed and
prayed offen, and sometimes I think you never come home agin. Och,
honey, I'se glad you'se back agin."

The black boy who acted as Tom's housekeeper wept with joy as the two
sturdy trappers stepped into the hut. He was busy superintending the
roasting of a wild turkey which hung to a string dangling over the
cabin fire, and the return of his masters was entirely unexpected.

"I'se that glad, Marse Mainwaring and Marse Steve. Sammy wonder and
wonder when yo gwine to come to de log cab'n agin. Sholy yo stay here
now fo' ever."

The faithful fellow looked up at them through his tears while he still
gripped both by the hand.

"There, there, Sammy," said Tom at length, touched by the warm welcome
which the honest fellow had given them. "Let us have something to eat,
and afterwards we'll lie down and take the best rest we have had for
many a long day. We've been hunted, lad. Hunted by redskins."

Sammy's mouth opened wide at that, and he stared still harder at his
master. Then he let his hand fall, and began to bustle about the
table, chattering as he prepared a meal for them.

"Yo's sit down and eat and rest, Marse Mainwaring and Marse Steve," he
said, giggling between the words. "Den yo'se lie down, and Sammy watch
to seen no Red Injun come near to hurt yo. Marse Steve?"

"Well, Sammy."

"To'morrer p'raps yo sit outside'r the door and speak to Sammy? P'raps
yo tell us all what's happ'nd?"

"Perhaps," answered Steve. "Now, hurry up with that turkey. Father and
I have not had a peaceful meal for many a day. As for sleep, I fancy
we have seldom had both eyes closed."

It was wonderful the way in which they settled down at the log hut
which Tom had made his home. As if he had not been away from the place
for even an hour, Tom strode across to the fireplace, and, taking his
musket in his hand, spilled the powder from the pan, and blew the last
of the grains away. Then he laid the weapon across the buck horns
nailed to the logs, stringing the powder horn to one of the antlers,
and the bag of bullets opposite. His coon-skin cap went still higher,
while his damp moccasins were placed a few inches from the embers.
Steve followed suit, and very soon the two were discussing the wild
turkey.

Some three weeks later, as Steve and Sammy were engaged in
manufacturing maple sugar, Tom came and sat on a log close by and
watched them carefully. They had three large iron cauldrons dangling
over log fires, while a fourth, a smaller one, hung over a separate
fire placed some yards from the others. And here they were making a
store of sugar to last them throughout the winter. Very early that day
Sammy and Steve had been out in the forest, and having blazed certain
of the maples, had set their jars beneath the slashes to catch the
sap. And now they were boiling the latter down, throwing fresh sap
into the larger cauldrons as the bubbling mass threatened to overflow
the sides. It was a long process, and for some hours now they had been
engaged in the task. They had boiled and boiled the mass till their
store of sap was reduced to a third of its former volume, and now that
third was placed in the smaller cauldron. Tom watched as they lifted
the latter from its iron support and poured its contents into stone
vessels to crystallise and cool.

"Steve," he called out. "Steve, I'm going away. I'll be back in a
couple of months if nothing turns up to stop me."

Steve was not surprised. His father had gone away from the settlement
on some business on several occasions before, while he had remained to
keep house.

"Very well, father," he said. "I'll stay here and look out for your
return. It will be winter almost by the time you come back."

"Almost, lad. About the Indian summer, I fancy, Steve."

He looked closely at his son as he called him again.

"Steve, my lad, these are uncertain times, and--and I might not have a
chance of coming back. If I should not, there is a lot that you should
learn in the next few years. Things you have never dreamed of. If I am
not back in a year, if anything happens to me, just go to this address
and hand in this letter. There it is. Now, I'm going."

It was not the backwoods fashion to take long in preparing for a
journey, and so it happened that Tom Mainwaring set out for the
Alleghany within half an hour of his conversation with Steve. They
parted some ten miles from the log hut, Tom turning his face for the
coast, while our hero stepped back to the settlement. And there for a
little more than a month he went on quietly with the usual routine. He
fished and shot and laid in a store of corn and dried bear's meat for
the coming winter, the grinning Sammy looking after the log hut when
he was away. Now and again, too, Mac and Jim would come over and spend
an evening with him, while Steve would return the visit. For within
ten miles of the hut there were some fifteen families, and it was the
custom for all to visit one another.

And so the days passed uneventfully till one bright morning in late
September, when there was a crispness in the air which denoted the
coming winter. A shout from Sammy brought Steve to the door of the log
hut.

"Marse Steve," he cried. "There's people sure on the water. They's
comin' dis way."

Two canoes were being paddled down the river, and as Steve looked they
turned towards the bank, with the evident intention of putting in at
the rough landing stage where his own canoes lay.

"They are strangers," said Steve at once, shading his eyes from the
slanting rays of the sun. "There are three white men in the first
canoe, and three Indians in the second. I think that they have come
from the French settlements."

He went to the buck horns over which his gun was suspended, and slung
the weapon across his shoulders. Then he took his bullet pouch, his
powder horn and tomahawk, and issued from the hut. By this time the
strangers had landed, and as Steve walked down towards them the three
white men moved towards a giant tree which grew within a few paces of
the bank, a tree which stood alone amidst a host of blackened stumps;
for when Tom had first come to the place virgin forest covered the
land, and he had expended much labour in clearing it.

"What can they be doing?" wondered Steve, seeing the three halt at the
foot of the tree and lift an object against the trunk. "They seem to
be nailing something to the tree."

A few minutes later he arrived within a couple of yards of the group,
and at once unslung his rifle, for with a start he recognised one of
the strangers. It was Jules Lapon, dressed now in the hunting costume
worn by French and English backwoodsmen alike.

"Bon jour, monsieur," said Jules, swinging round and greeting
Steve with a cool and satirical smile. "I wish you a fine day and
prosperity. You will be pleased to look at this notice, and afterwards
you will take steps to move."

He pointed to the tree and stood aside, watching Steve with an
expression which boded little good, and which seemed to combine malice
and triumph. Our hero stepped closer and stared at the strip of tin
which the Frenchman had pointed out. It was nailed to the bark of
the tree, and bore in high relief the arms of France, while beneath,
stamped on to the metal, were the following words, in the English
language:

"In the name of Louis XV., King of France and of the Continent beyond
the sea, we, Louis Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm-Gozon de Saint-Véran,
Captain-General of the Forces in North America, and others of the
King's servants, renew our possession of this land. We warn all who
are not good and faithful subjects of France to depart peacefully and
without delay."

There was a date and a rough signature underneath, while at the foot
of the tree lay a leaden disc, with a somewhat similar inscription,
destined to be buried there so that there might not be wanting
evidence in the future to prove the aims and aspirations of France
and her king. Nor was this the first time that Steve had looked at
such a disc. Some while before he had come upon another, nearer the
great lakes, and he had heard that the French had placed many more in
different parts.

"You will observe his Majesty's wishes," said Jules Lapon, with an
irritating smile of triumph which brought a flush of anger to Steve's
cheek. "The orders are that you depart peacefully and without delay.
You will go this evening. To-morrow I and my Indians will come to your
hut and the place will be France. Comprenez vous? Bien!"

Steve could have struck the rascally Frenchman, so great was his
anger. Moreover, when he recollected that it was this same ruffianly
foreigner who but a few weeks before had hunted himself and his
friends with his band of cut-throats, he felt that he would be almost
justified in shooting him where he stood. Then, too, there was this
preposterous demand. For three miles on either hand the land belonged
to Tom Mainwaring. He had paid dues for it to a land company, and he
had settled the place. His labour had cleared the forest till there
was sufficient open space to grow corn. The hut was his, the bank
of the river, and a stretch on the far side lying opposite the hut.
Steve's gorge rose at the thought that a Frenchman should order him
to give up his own belongings, and it was with difficulty that he
restrained himself. He bit his lip, stared at the tin placard, and
then swung round on the Frenchman, a cool smile on his lips.

"You are joking," he said in French, causing Jules to start backwards
in surprise. "Surely you are playing with me, just as you and your
band of Indians played with our hunting party in the neighbourhood of
Albany. That was a sad joke, monsieur. I fear that we were too much in
earnest."

It was Steve's turn to laugh, for there was no doubt that the
Frenchman was utterly taken aback. He staggered, flushed to the roots
of his hair, and gripped at his tomahawk.

"You lie," he gasped. "I lead a band of redskins near Albany! You lie,
I say!"

"You say so, monsieur," replied Steve calmly, with a smile which
maddened Jules. "Yes, it is you who say that, and I hear. But my eyes
are good. I know that you led that band. It was I who saw you in the
camp which you had hidden in the forest."

"You saw the camp, and I was in it? And you say that it was near
Albany? Monsieur is mad, or he does not know how to tell the truth."

Jules mastered his rage and mortification and made a bold attempt
to deceive the young colonist. After all, he thought, it was more
than possible that this Steve might have seen him there. But then
Frenchmen were much alike, and the glimpse he had obtained could have
been but a glimpse after all: and besides, Jules reflected, at that
time he was dressed as an Indian.

"Does monsieur think that I am a bird?" he demanded brazenly. "I have
lands to look to across the river, and how can I be there and at
Albany?"

"I hardly think you could be in two places so far apart, at one and
the same time," answered Steve, his temper well in hand now. "After
all, it is sufficient for me to know that you were in that camp in the
woods at Albany, where Hunting Jim and I saw you distinctly. That was
a long chase, Monsieur Jules, and I fancy it must have been somewhat
of a surprise to you and your men to come across so small a band
prepared to make a fight of it. Your men must have been discontented.
I believe we killed ten at least."

This time he left no doubt in the Frenchman's mind that his rascality
was discovered, and as Steve looked down at him he saw a gleam of
malice light up the eyes of the ruffian, a gleam which seemed to
say, "I will kill you at the first opportunity, Steve Mainwaring."
Then Jules Lapon suddenly changed his intentions, a smile of triumph
wreathed his face, and he pointed to the placard on the tree.

"After all, monsieur, it is not a question of men who have been
killed, or of my presence at Albany," he said easily. "It is a
question of this notice. You have read it?"

"I have."

"Then you will obey?"

"If I do not? Supposing I stay?"

"Monsieur, you see this whistle?" Jules took a whistle, made of horn,
from his belt, and held it before Steve's eyes. "You observe that
little toy, monsieur? Ah. Now I will tell you. Supposing you are so
rash as to stay, I shall blow that whistle, and within an hour the far
shore of the river will be darkened by the boats of my friends."

"Cut-throat Indians, monsieur," said Steve.

"You will be careful to describe my friends properly," cried Jules,
making an obvious effort to control his anger. "I was saying that the
Indians would come. They would hound you and your friends out of this
settlement, and, after that, who can keep a check upon them?"

He shrugged his shoulders and looked significantly at his two comrades.

"Only the men with the guns," answered Steve. "I know your Indians,
monsieur, and I know also that they have ravaged our settlements
cruelly. But for all your threats, I will not give up my father's
property. He was here long before the French had advanced south of
Lake Erie. He paid for this land, and he has expended labour upon it.
It is his. No king of France or his servants shall demand it of him or
of me."

Steve looked the three Frenchmen calmly in the eyes, and then stepped
up to the tree. Plunging his hunting knife under the sheet of tin, he
levered it from the bark, and, tearing it free of the nail, threw it
into the river.

"That is what I think of your demand and of your placard, Jules
Lapon," he said, "and I promise that if you come with your Indians
and drive me away, I and my father will hound you off the place. For
a time we English may be beaten back. But, mark my words, we shall
regain our own again, and you will be defeated."

There was a shout as he went to the tree and tossed the inscription
into the water. Then no sooner had he spoken than Jules sprang at him
with an oath.

"You defy us. You defy me!" he shouted. "Then listen to this, you
Englishman. Go now. I will give you a minute. If you are not then out
of sight I will shoot you. Yes, I will shoot you as I had hoped to do
up on the Mohawk. And after that I shall live in your cabin."

He threw all secrecy to the winds, and lifting his musket presented
it at Steve's head. Indeed, for an instant or two it looked as if he
would have shot him down on the spot.

"You see that I am ready," he shouted, as he looked along the sights.
"Run for your life."

Steve was cornered. To turn and obey the command given him was the
most natural thing under the circumstances, and it may be wondered
that he did not do so. But he knew the methods of the backwoods, and
was well acquainted with the reputation of this Frenchman.

"He will shoot me as I walk," he thought. "I will stay and face him.
After all, one can dodge a bullet sometimes if one keeps one's eye
on the weapon. Monsieur, I will stay here. Get into your canoe and
retire," he said sternly. "I also will shoot you if you do not lower
that musket."

There was a shout of surprise and anger from the two who accompanied
Jules, and they at once sprang forward and lifted their muskets,
levelling the barrels at Steve's head. And there for a moment they
stood, Steve holding his ground stubbornly, while the Frenchmen looked
along their sights as if they were about to shoot at the defenceless
figure standing before them. Then the scene was unexpectedly
interrupted.

"That air enough. Put them shootin' irons down. Do yer hear?" A gruff
voice suddenly burst from the edge of the forest, some twenty paces
away, and the tall gaunt figure of Hunting Jim appeared amidst the
leaves, the autumn tints matching strangely with the colour of his
hunting shirt and his leggings. "Drop yer guns, and git!"

No wonder that the Frenchmen started, that Steve swung round with
a cry of delight. For not a sound had warned the disputants of the
approach of the trapper. He stood there, outlined grimly amidst the
leaves, for all the world as if he had sprung out of the ground. His
musket was gripped in his hands, while the long shining barrels of
two other weapons protruded from the trees on either hand.

"Yer see, we ain't quite alone," he said hoarsely, "and ef them guns
ain't down in a jiffy--ah! that air well for yer. Now Jules Lapon,
murderer and robber, I reckon you can git, you and the hul crowd. Ef
we had shot yer down as yer stood, we'd have done what was right, and
p'raps we'd have saved a hangman a bad job one of these days. Git,
that's the order!"

The tables were suddenly turned with a vengeance. Steve, standing
there bravely with three barrels presented at him, suddenly found
himself looking into three very startled faces. The Frenchmen stepped
backward involuntarily, and lowered their weapons as Jim began to
speak. Then, unable to face the guns which were directed at them, they
glanced at one another swiftly, turned, and made off at a run to their
canoe.

"Stop! Jest drop them muskets. That air the ticket. Now put yer knives
and tomahawks down, and Jules Lapon, you as wanted to get our scalps
over by Albany, jest hook that ere whistle out'er yer belt. Now yer
can go, and jest remember this. When we meet again there won't be no
warnin'. It'll be shoot at sight. Don't ax fer nor expect no favors."

Jim watched with a grim smile of triumph as the three disconsolate
Frenchmen put down their weapons and embarked. Then he and his
comrades emerged and took up their stations beside Steve, staring out
at the canoe as it stole away from the bank. More than a minute passed
before Steve turned to look at those who had come so opportunely to
his help. Beside the lanky form of Jim was Mac, his beard flaming
in the sun, his broad hand gripping the stock of his musket, and a
look of bitterness on his usually jolly features. On the other side,
impassive as was his custom and the habit of his race, his head thrown
forward and the feathers of his head-dress trailing down over his
shoulders, was Silver Fox, alert and vigilant, his eye following every
movement of the Frenchmen.

"Bad cess to the blackguards," cried Mac, a note of unusual bitterness
in his tones. "They kin hunt me and you, Jim, and young Steve here
too if they like, but faith whin they come to huntin' the women and
childer it makes me blood boil. For why can't they lave us alone? What
have we done to the bastes to set thim agin the whole of us?"

"You've got land," answered Jim shortly. "That's what you've got.
You've gone and put yer broad carcass in the way of this here King of
France. Steve, reckon this placard air worth keepin'."

He stepped to the bank of the river, waded in a little way and
recovered the plaque, the sun glancing from the bright tin having made
its position clear to those standing on the shore.

"Best keep it, lad," he went on. "It'll mind yer of a time when yer
was precious near to death, and of the pluck as a youngster kin show.
Reckon you stood up to them 'ere skunks as well as any man could ha
done."

There was a murmur of approval from the others, while Steve shook his
head.

"I wasn't going to be frightened by a canoe full of Frenchmen," he
said doggedly. "This place is ours, and if this king wants it let him
come and take it. The best man will hold it in the end. But I suspect
it is not his Majesty of France. Louis XV. can have no great use for
our little holding. But Jules Lapon has. He owns the ground on the far
side next to father's, and with ours thrown in he'd have the whole of
the river banks for three miles either way."

"You've hit it, Steve. It air that skunk as brought this bit of tin
along, and it air him as wants the place," cried Jim, staring out
across the river at the fast-retreating canoes. "What is more, lad,
he's goin' to have it for a time. Me and Mac and Silver Fox guessed as
there was somethin' up, and ever since daylight we've had our eyes on
the varmint. There was a lot too much movement amongst the Injuns, and
we reckoned it didn't mean good to us. Them critters has nailed their
bits of tin at three other places along this bank, and they air going
to take the land whether we want it or not."

"Do you actually mean that they will drive us out of the place?" asked
Steve.

"That air so. There's news comin' slowly through that the French and
their Injuns is movin' on and drivin' the British before 'em. There's
tales of settlements attacked and taken, men and women scalped,
and children carried off by them redskin devils. We've heard the
same before, and I don't know how it is that we along here at this
settlement have escaped so long. But reckon these fellers is out on
the war-path agin, and, lad, we've got to git."

Go! They must leave the place where Steve had lived ever since he was
a tiny little fellow. The log cabin which was his home must be given
up to these Frenchmen and their allies! The thought was a cruel one,
and it is not to be wondered at that an exclamation of bitterness
escaped him.

"Faith, Steve, me lad, it's hard to think on, so it is," said Mac,
coming to him and placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Hasn't
Mac and the loikes of him settled peaceful here? hasn't the wives
and the childer made homes for all of us, so they have? But ye've
to choose what's the best. To see these thavin' damons here in our
very own places, or to see ivery mother's son of us, and the women
and childer too--God bless the darlints!--scalped and kilt by these
fellers. Sure, Steve, better to see the settlements burn, to put fires
to ivery roof and watch 'em flare, than have them fellers settin' in
our doorways, or scalpin' all of us. Och, but it's a sore time for us,
a sore time, and we'll have to foight before we get back what's our
own. Bedad! Ye'll know soon, Steve, darlint. 'Tis you and me, and Jim
and Silver Fox, and ivery one of us, as'll take our muskets and go out
to foight the blackguards."

"Mac's jest talkin' sense. Reckon it air as he says, Steve," cried
Jim. "Yer was near bein' wiped clean out jest now, and if yer wait
it'll be a case with yer. Best get back to the hut and take what yer
want. You've a bit of a pony, and I fancy you'll be able to take
most of yer things. Then set fire to the place. We'll cross to the
Alleghanies, and then we'll take service with the regiments which are
bein' formed."

Steve stood looking at his rough but honest-hearted friends for some
few minutes, and then his eyes roamed across the peaceful stretch of
the river to the far bank, under the shade of which Jules Lapon and
his comrades were paddling. Then the whistle which the French leader
had dropped caught his attention, and he stared at that, too, for a
little while.

"Father would do the same," he said aloud, but addressing no one in
particular. "Yes, he would go, after firing the hut. There is no other
course open. We have often talked over the possible coming of the
French, and decided that we should have to retire unless supported by
troops. But they are nowhere here. We have only ourselves to rely on.
We must go."

He led the way to the log cabin, and at once set about packing the
most valuable of his and Tom's possessions. Sammy led out the old pony
which was usually employed in dragging timber, and roped the articles
to his back, big tears welling up in his eyes as he did so. When all
was ready Steve took a brand from the fire, looked once more upon his
old home, the cabin in which he had lived sixteen happy years, and
then fired the shingles. There was an air of resolution on his face as
he did so, and he stood to windward watching the flames as they caught
hold and licked round the logs with the same expression. Then, as the
roof fell in and huge tongues of flame flared up into the air, he
turned away with a smile.

"I will help to build a mansion where that happy home was," he said.
"Come Jim and Mac, and you too, Silver Fox, old friends, we will go
where we can be of use to our country, and one of these days we will
settle again in these parts, when the French have been driven into
Canada."

"When they have been sent neck and crop out of North America," growled
Jim. "Pick up yer traps, Steve. The other folks air waitin' for us way
up there back of the rise."

Sammy took the rope bridle of the laden animal, and the trappers and
their Indian friend fell in behind. And thus did Steve leave his home,
not to return again till many an adventure had befallen him, and not
till many and many a man had fallen in the contest which was about to
break out with a ferocity which was almost unexampled.




Chapter VII

The Alleghany Raiders


Sad and heavy of heart were the settlers whom Steve and his friends
met at the top of the divide which ran between the valley in which
they had lived and the forest region beyond, stretching right away to
the Alleghany mountains; for each one of the forty or more persons
of whom the party consisted had just lost home and belongings. Men,
women, and children had been forced to turn out of their log cabins
and take to the woods.

"It air a shame and no mistake," said Jim as the men of the party
gathered about Steve's pony and discussed the matter. "But there's
jest one thing that makes it easy so to speak."

"Easy! Yer don't call it an easy thing to have to fire the hut
that took so long to build, do yer, Huntin' Jim?" cried one of the
trappers, Pete Jarvis by name, his brows contracting as his bitterness
increased. "Yer don't say as it's an easy thing fer a man what's fifty
and more to turn his back on what he's given years of his life to
make, to steal like a skunk out'er these woods, where he's trapped
and shot, and with his wife and children take the trail back to the
west. Yer don't think that, Huntin' Jim. It's hard enough to break a
man's heart."

"It air all that and more, chum," was Jim's consoling answer.
"Neither me nor you, nor Mac, nor Steve, the young Hawk as he's known
hereabouts, likes havin' to git at the word of them 'ere Frenchies.
But fer all that I'm right. Ef it war winter where should we be?"

"'Tis then the poor childer would suffer, so they would," burst in
Mac. "Sure, 'twould be the death of many a one, the poor darlints.
Jim's right, so he is, Pete. We're lucky afther all."

Pete scratched his head at that, for the matter had never crossed his
mind before. He had looked at this sudden exodus from a different
point of view, and he was filled with bitterness and wrath. Still, now
that he came to review the case, he saw that Jim was right.

"That air true," he admitted. "We've got a heap to be thankful for,
and now that you've put it before me, why I'm downright glad that the
time has come now, and not later. Still, boys, it air hard."

"It is, more than hard," agreed Steve. "But we still have something to
be thankful for. We've been hearing tales of other settlements, and
they have not even been able to leave. The Indians gave no warning.
The French did not trouble to come along with their ridiculous bits
of tin, but raided the places, burnt the huts, and massacred the poor
settlers."

"And why ain't they done it here?" demanded Jim eagerly, clenching a
big brown fist. "I'll tell yer, Steve, and you too Pete. It's 'cos
that feller Jules Lapon air in these parts. Reckon he wanted them
huts and crops. He don't want to walk in and find the hul place burnt
by his Injuns. So he sends along and gives us the warnin' to quit,
knowin' that once we've took the trail he can send the hul crowd of
his Injun varmint after us. Waal. He ain't a goin' to get the huts,
'cos we've put fire to 'em, and the crops got served the same way. Ef
we look after ourselves reckon he and them ugly red critters won't
have such an easy time of it. We'd best get the business settled up."

There was, indeed, little doubt that the danger which had suddenly
burst about the heads of the settlers was a real one, and that now
that the Indians had risen in those parts, the party might be followed
and attacked. For the past four or five months tales of massacres
of English colonists had come to the ears of Steve and his friends.
All along the border-line huts and settlements had been raided, too
often suddenly and without any warning, and hundreds of unfortunate
men, women, and children had been killed and scalped. An Indian war
of the most ferocious description had been raging here and there on
the eastern slopes of the Alleghany mountains, and in many places
the enemy had burst over that range and had annihilated settlements
on the far side. Marching with the Indians, egging them on, and
sometimes vying with them in their cruel practices, were scores of
French _voyageurs_ and settlers, and even many young officers from
the regular forces; whilst behind these leaders, stimulating them
with promises of land, and aiding them with money, guns, and powder,
were the authorities living in Quebec. It was really a matter for
wonder that Steve and his friends had not been disturbed before,
for they had carved out from the virgin forests a most valuable
settlement, and one which may be said to have stood in the direct
line of the French advance. It may have been that they owed their
security from interference so far to the fact that the land nearest
to them was owned by Jules Lapon, and he happened to be away in other
parts murdering and slaying, and taking stores from any party of
trappers who happened to stumble across his path. Or this ruffian
may have purposely kept his Indian allies away, having determined to
obtain possession of such a valuable clearing. Whatever the cause, it
happened that this particular settlement had escaped till now, and had
been left so long without interference that many who lived there were
beginning to hope that the impending storm might after all pass over
their heads. And now, with scarcely any warning, the cloud had burst.
They had been ordered to quit, and to leave all that they possessed.
It was more than hard. It was cruel to think that these hardy
trappers, the pioneers of the land, had no one to look to for help,
and must needs pack up hastily and fly for their lives at the bidding
of a French monarch whose name had barely come to their ears.

"It does not help us to look upon the hardship of our case, boys,"
said Steve, as the men stood about him, dressed in their hunting
shirts, their coon-skin caps, their fringed leggings and moccasins.
"We ought to feel glad that we and the women and children are alive,
and our business now is to make arrangements for our journey. Which
way do we make?"

"Due west," answered Jim, with an emphatic wag of his head. "Up there
somewheres on the Alleghanies we'll hit upon colonial troops. There
ain't many of 'em, but they'll be enough to keep these redskin skunks
away, and any of us as has a mind to can take on service with 'em. Ef
we was to make north and west, up towards Albany----"

"Reckon that air out of the question," interrupted Pete. "I'm farthest
over in that direction, and Silver Fox here can tell you that an army
could not get through. West air our only way."

This was, in fact, the only direction in which the little party could
make, for Silver Fox had brought information that roving bands of
Indians were on the war-path between the settlement and Albany.

"Then we will turn west," said Steve. "We have got to protect
ourselves, and I should say that the best way would be to send the
women and children and half the men ahead, while we others wait and
cover the retreat. I suppose we shall make for the old trail?"

"That air what we'll do," replied Jim. "Now, as we're all here,
supposin' we pick out those who air to stay. Married men goes in
advance ef possible. Mac, guess you'll lead. You're a good trapper and
woodsman, and yer know that it'll want a 'cute man to see that the
way's clear. Me and Steve and a few others'll take the rear."

With such matter-of-fact individuals, accustomed to acting swiftly
and in sudden emergencies, it took only a few minutes to arrange the
details of their flight, and very soon the party chosen to go in
advance had moved off through the forest, Mac leading and searching
closely for the blazings on the trees which would tell him that he had
come across the trail which led to the mountains. After him went the
married men, with their wives and children. The ponies, upon the backs
of which the children and some of the women were mounted, were placed
in line, and, being thoroughly well trained to work in the forest,
stepped one after another along the track. Their rear was brought up
by Sammy, leading the lanky pony upon which all Tom's and Steve's
possessions were packed.

"Guess we'll give 'em a good hour's start," said Steve. "Jim, I'll
make back and keep an eye on the river with Silver Fox. If all is
right I'll strike once on the trunk of a tree. If they are following
you will hear two blows."

He and the Indian slipped away from the little band of backwoodsmen,
and within an hour were looking down upon the river which they had so
recently left. It was black with canoes which were passing to and fro,
while a number were drawn up in front of the bank where Steve had had
his encounter with Jules Lapon. Above the tops of the trees hung a
dense pall of smoke, a dozen other columns shewing where the settlers
had fired their huts.

"They will follow to-morrow, Hawk," said Silver Fox, when he had
looked at the scene for some little while. "They think that they will
easily come up with us. In two days they will surround our party and
we shall have to fight. It would be well to ambush them."

That set Steve thinking, and for an hour he lay there in the bracken
staring down at the river. Then he got to his feet, picked up a fallen
branch and struck the trunk of a massive tree a heavy blow, repeating
the blow again some two minutes later.

"They will hear that," he said. "Now we will return, Silver Fox. Have
you ever been on this trail?"

"Once, Hawk," was the answer.

"Do you remember the hills lying a day's march from this? There is a
gap."

The Indian suddenly came to a stop, for they were returning by now,
and stared into Steve's face. "The Hawk is sharp," he said, with a
flash of his keen eyes. "Silver Fox remembers that gap. There we will
lay an ambush."

They trudged on through the forest and presently came up with Jim
and his comrades. Then, with two men scouting in the woods on either
side, and the same number in rear and in front, the tiny little party
of stern men strode on after the fugitives in advance. And when the
morning of the second day broke they struggled up to the rising
ground which Steve had mentioned to Silver Fox. It was a rugged and
precipitous ridge, with trees growing thickly up to its foot, and
thick, long scrub running to its summit. As Steve clambered to the top
he saw that it stretched for some miles on either hand, and he knew
that to cross it at any other spot would be a difficult task, for he
and his father had often hunted in the district.

"It is just the place for us," he said to Jim, as the trapper and some
of his comrades gathered about him. "From the forest down below the
Indians who are pursuing will be able to get a glimpse of our party
after it has climbed over this ridge, for the land rises again, and
you can see for yourself that it towers above this place. Now what
do you say to this? We send on the best of the horses, with all the
women and children, and instruct them to get ahead to that piece of
open country to which I am pointing. Meanwhile, we will lie here and
prepare a nice little ambush."

"While the women and children draw the varmint into it," cried Jim,
with every sign of satisfaction. "Steve, you air 'cute. I 'lowed that
many a day ago, but here yer air agin. Boys, that air a plan that's
worth workin'."

The spot was, in fact, an ideal one for an ambush, and Steve had had
it in his mind's eye the whole of the previous two days, for he was
well acquainted with the district. As he had said, this steep rocky
ridge cut across the course of the fugitives, running for many miles
on either hand. In many places it was almost unclimbable, and at this
point it happened to be less severe, so much so that many a colonist
making east into the promised land, the valley of the Ohio, had
followed the blaze marks of those who had gone before him, and had
clambered over the rise where others had found a road. It was the most
natural thing, therefore, for this party of fugitives to take the same
track, and indeed it was the only course that they could take. The
Indians would know this, so Steve argued, and there was little doubt
that by now they were within a few miles of the ridge. What would
happen when they came up to it?

"They will climb over and wipe the whole lot of us out," our hero had
said to himself. "We must stop them here if at all."

Then, as he tramped through the forest on the previous day, he had
recollected that in approaching the ridge from the Ohio valley one
caught a glimpse every now and again of the track far in advance, for
the country to the west rose again, less sharply to be sure, but to a
greater elevation. A party making their way over that second rise in
the land would be instantly detected by the Indian pursuers, who would
imagine that all their pale face enemies were there.

"It is our only chance," said Steve, as the men gathered about him.
"Our scouts in rear have not yet signalled, so we know that the enemy
are not yet up with us, though they were on our trail last night. Then
we have plenty of time. In an hour the ponies, with the women and
children, will be on the high ground beyond, and when the Indians see
them----"

"They'll come streamin' up this ridge like hounds," growled Jim. "This
air the place to stop 'em. You place the boys, my lad."

Very rapidly and coolly Steve told the trappers off to their posts,
cautioning them that there was not to be a sound till he fired his
musket. Then he himself took cover close to the edge of the track
and waited. Presently two slim figures appeared down below, flitting
between the trees, and the trappers left behind as scouts began to
climb the ridge.

"A hundred of the varmint full on the trail," whispered one as he lay
down beside Steve. "We watched 'em till half an hour ago, and then me
and Stubbs come along at a dog trot. They'll be in sight in less than
no time. Reckon they'll spot the rest of our party. They air right up
there on the high ground beyond, and yer can sight 'em ploddin' along
beside the ponies."

[Illustration: "STEVE RESTED HIS BARREL IN THE FORK OF A DWARFED
TREE"]

"Hist! That air one of the skunks."

Jim, who happened to be next to Steve, lifted a warning finger and
then pointed below. A painted redskin, hideous in his feathered
war-gear, slipped like a shadow from the trees and stood in the open,
staring up over the ridge to the high land beyond. They saw him turn
and call softly, and then, one by one, some hundred of his comrades
flitted up to his side and stood staring at the white fugitives
beyond. Some danced with joy and brandished their tomahawks, while one
of their number turned and addressed them.

"My children, these pale faces are ours," he said. "Within the hour
their scalps shall hang at our belts. Climb the rise and enter the
trees. Do not make a sound till they are enclosed by us. Then rush
upon them and slay."

He pointed to the ridge, and, leaping forward, led the way up the
steep ascent. And as the whole party followed, their eyes fixed upon
their leader or upon the summit of the rise, some twenty ponderous
muskets went to as many stout shoulders, and sights were levelled upon
the redskin demons clambering up the track. Steve rested his muzzle
in the fork of a dwarfed tree and aligned the sights on the feathered
chief who led the party. And there he waited, his cheek well down
on the stock, his eye glued to the sights, and his finger pressing
ever so gently on the trigger. He was as steady as the fork in which
his weapon rested, for Steve was a hardened fighter by now, and he
knew that the lives of all the women and children depended on the
coolness and courage of himself and his comrades. He allowed nothing
to frighten him, and where many would have pulled the trigger out of
sheer excitement and inability to put up with the suspense any longer,
he crouched there waiting, waiting.

"About thirty yards I make it," he said to himself at last. "I'll give
him another two seconds. That will get the others up a little closer.
We want our bullets to strike more than one of the ruffians."

Suddenly there was a loud report, a spurt of flame lit up the shadow
in which he lay, while the leader of the Indians threw his hands
into the air, howled in the most diabolical manner, and then fell
backwards, to go sliding and bumping down the track till a fallen
tree arrested further progress. A second later a volley came from the
surrounding bushes, from behind rocks and boulders, while a storm of
bullets plunged into the very centre of the huddled enemy. When the
smoke blew away, Steve and his friends looked down upon an almost
deserted track, cleared of Indians save for the bodies which lay prone
on the hill-side or which rolled and slid down towards the bottom.
Here and there in amongst the bushes on either hand the crash of a
bough told that the enemy was there, but those sounds lasted only a
few seconds, and presently figures flitted in amongst the trees down
below.

"Them critters won't come to a stop till they've reached the river,"
laughed Jim, his face lighting up with joy. "Reckon they'll run till
they've come back to that 'ere Jules Lapon of theirs. Steve, reckon
you've jest saved us."

He stepped over to the young trapper and gripped him by the hand. "It
war your idea agin what brought us through," he said, "and it air you
as'll lead us out of this country. Boys, you've heard tell of our trip
up to Albany, and of how young Steve got on to the idea of them boats
and reeds. Waal, this here notion of an ambush air his. Ain't he fit
ter lead us?"

There was a shout of approval.

"He air all that," shouted Pete. "Hawk has made his name, and air real
keen and 'cute. Reckon I don't want no better leader, no more do any
of the others."

"Then, cap'n, you'll take on the command as before," said Jim easily.
"We air out of the muss with them 'ere beggars. What air we to do now?"

"Push on as fast as we are able," was our hero's answer, when he had
recovered from his embarrassment. "We will march with scouts out
behind and in front and on either side. I am hoping to reach the
mountains in four days."

The party pressed on after those in advance, and in due time came up
with them. And thus, taking the utmost precaution against attack from
the Indians, they marched through the forest in the direction of the
Alleghany mountains. Now and again they came upon an open space,
where the blackened logs spoke of a settlement which had been fired.
And often enough there were signs of the struggle which had taken
place. The bodies of murdered colonists lay among the grass, while
such relics of the former inhabitants as a tiny shoe, a rag doll, or
a wooden horse, caught the eyes of the men of the party and caused
them to grind their teeth and clench their fists. Men swore into their
beards, and in low tones vowed that they would repay the authors of
these massacres.

And so in time they came to the mountains, climbed the long and weary
foot hills, and at length struggled to the top, still surrounded by
the ever-present forest.

"We ain't far from white folks, cap'n," said Jim as the party began to
descend the far slopes. "Pete reports as he's dropped on fresh fires,
where the embers air quite warm; and there's been a hul lot of men
about stampin' the ground with hard-soled boots."

"Reckon there's men up there," suddenly exclaimed one of the trappers,
pointing to a high peak distinguishable above the forest trees.
"They've been watchin' us, and the sooner we let 'em know who we air
the better it'll be. They might be shootin' into us."

Steve at once sent off a couple of the backwoodsmen to speak to the
strangers, and in a little while his messengers came back with four
trappers similar to themselves. They were hardy-looking men, bearded
and bronzed, and dressed in the customary hunting shirt and leggings.

"Reckon you air lucky folk," said one, addressing Steve. "There's been
few come through safely since the French set them Injuns on. Have yer
had a muss with 'em?"

"We beat them back at the range," answered our hero. "We set a trap
for them, and they walked into it. That's the last we saw of them. But
we have passed many a ruined and burnt-out settlement."

"Ay, there's many of 'em, more's the shame. Ef we up here get news of
the comin' of the Injuns, why, we goes down and does what we can. But
it ain't often like that. They come down upon the settlements like a
hawk, and every one's wiped out. There ain't many settlements left.
They say as all the backwoods huts air fired and men scalped, and that
the bigger settlements just near the Alleghany range have also been
fired. Then some of the varmint have been over the range, and they've
wiped out big farms and hul villages. It makes a man swear to hear
it all, and to know that we can do nothing to prevent the murders.
But what can you expect when George has only a thousand men, same as
us, to look after four hundred miles of frontier? Why, there's Injuns
out all along the line from Western New York State right away down to
North Carolina."

Steve and his friends were indeed amazed at this statement. They
knew that an Indian war had been raging along the frontiers of the
thirteen States, but having been so cut off in the forests, little
news had come to their ears. They had learned that various expeditions
had been sent against the French and their allies, and that these
had for the most part been defeated or had failed to effect their
object. They knew too that massacres had taken place here and there.
But this was indeed news. It was terrible to learn that all along
this frontier, extending over some four hundred miles, farms and
settlements had been exterminated, that bands of Indians had ravaged
the possessions of the colonists, and had even carried their war over
the Alleghanies, wiping out the huts of the pioneers, which may be
called the first line of defences, then firing the settlements which
were not so far advanced, and which formed a second line, and finally,
throwing themselves upon a third and final line, that formed by the
more prosperous and more settled villagers on the eastern slopes of
the Alleghanies.

"But how have they been allowed to do all this?" demanded Steve,
indignantly. "Surely there are men in the colonies! Why, if this
sort of thing is allowed, the Indians will reach the coast, and will
massacre at Charlestown and other places."

He swung round on his companion, his face flushed and his eyes
flashing with indignation. Then he suddenly observed that a fifth
stranger, dressed as a hunter like the rest, but with something about
him which attracted more than usual attention, had joined the group,
slipping up to it unheard and unseen from the forest. He was tall and
lithe, some twenty-four years of age, and his keen blue eyes fixed
themselves on Steve's figure.

"Excuse me," he said, speaking with the voice of a man who had been
brought up in a town, "excuse me, sir, but what you say is hardly
likely to occur now. A year ago it seemed more than possible. But
perhaps you have not heard. At last the English Government is tired
of this massacre and this bullying. War has been declared, and troops
are coming to help us. You may ask why the colonies have not done
more. Pooh! They call a blush of shame to the cheek of every honest
and patriotic colonist. While the shrieks of these unhappy settlers
ring almost in their ears and almost within hearing of the coast
towns, these comfortable stay-at-home planters and traders and country
gentlemen sit in their council rooms and squabble. They set aside
all thought of assisting their hapless brothers and sisters, while
they heckle their unfortunate governors. But I must apologise again.
You must understand that I feel the position bitterly, for I have
had a hand in these troubles since the very commencement. Allow me
to introduce myself. I am George Washington, colonel commanding the
irregulars who have been given the task of defending four hundred
miles of frontier."

So this young and determined-looking man was George Washington, of
whom every trapper and hunter had heard. Steve regarded him with open
admiration, and then, stepping up to him, shook hands eagerly.

"It is a lucky day for us, then, Colonel," he said. "I am Steve
Mainwaring."

"Cap'n Steve, known as the Hawk amongst the Injuns," burst in Jim,
stretching out a big brown paw to grip that of the colonel. "Cap'n
Steve, Colonel, and as sharp and 'cute a fighter as ever I see.
How'dy?"

"I am glad to meet you, gentlemen," said the young colonial officer.
"You will come to our camp, where we will endeavour to make you
comfortable."

He took Steve by the arm and led the way through the forest. And very
soon the fugitives were in the middle of the hutted encampment where
George Washington and his men had their quarters. Huts were allotted
to the various families, while the colonel took Steve to his own log
house.

"Come with me, Steve," he said with a friendly smile. "I am rather
lonely, and it will be nice to have a companion to chat with. Besides,
I want to hear all about the backwoods and the troubles you have had
with the French and the Indians."

He led the way to an unpretentious hut, and very soon Steve was
stretched on a rough wooden form, staring at the embers and chatting
quietly with George Washington, even then a hero, and destined to
become one of the greatest of American citizens.




Chapter VIII

A Question of Territory


"Never before has this fine country seen such troubles," said Colonel
George Washington, as he sat puffing at his pipe and looking across
the wooden flooring of his hut at Steve's long and active figure. "You
have had fighting, you tell me. You will see more. We are only just
entering upon the struggle. Tell me, Steve, what do you propose to do?"

That was a question which our hero found some difficulty in answering.
But at length he rolled over on the form and sat up to look at his
host.

"What do you advise?" he asked. "I have a letter here which I wish
to deliver at Charlestown, and I should like to find out what has
happened to my father. After that I shall join some band of scouts,
and fight the French and their Indians. I suppose they mean to drive
us all out of the country, and take it for themselves?"

There was an emphatic nod in answer to his question, and then for a
while the two sat staring at the fire, each busy with his thoughts.

For who could doubt that the total extermination of the British
colonists was intended? The French were rapidly pushing south and
east, and in front of them ran a swarm of their Indians, massacring
and slaying, and steadily pushing back the British settlers. To
understand the position of affairs, and the facts which had led up to
the moment when Steve and his friends arrived at the camp where George
Washington and his small army had settled themselves on the Alleghany
Mountains, it would be well for the reader to study a map of North
America, and trace for himself the possessions held by the French and
the English. For it must be remembered that these two nations, each
jealous of the other, and often at war with each other, had sent their
settlers and pioneers to this huge continent of North America. To
describe how the first of those settlers landed, how they fought their
way from the coast and conquered the forests, would be to enter upon a
subject which would need abundant space and more attention than can be
given here. But the history of those days is filled to repletion with
tales of gallant deeds, of perseverance against great suffering and
difficulty, and of final and glorious success. It will be sufficient
perhaps if we say, when dealing with the British colonies, that
Quakers and Puritans, together with others from England and Wales,
also Scotchmen and Irishmen, found their way to the eastern shores
of North America, and having dealt with the Indians, finally founded
states, thirteen in number, stretching from New England in the north
to infant Georgia in the south.

Let the reader glance down the eastern coast of the map, and he will
trace these thirteen States without difficulty, and will notice that,
while each has easy access to the sea, where the coast naturally
limits further extension in that direction, to the west there is a
huge sweep of country running right across to the Pacific coast, but
broken here and there by mountain and river and vast inland lakes.
Then let him take those States in their order from the north, and
ascertain what reason there was why each one should not extend to the
west till her people flooded the whole continent.

It may be admitted at once that abundance of time was one of the
main requirements for bringing about such a state of affairs, for
colonies do not grow in a day, and putting aside all natural barriers,
and those erected by the hostility of the old inhabitants, whom the
colonists will in course of time drive from their own country, many,
many years must pass before the tide of immigrants flows across the
land. For those who come first naturally select suitable places
nearest the coast, while those who come later settle within reach of
their friends, exchanging commodities with them. Later arrivals are
forced farther and farther away, till in time the settlements are
found miles and miles from the coast. Look at North America to-day.
She has added many states to those thirteen which existed in the days
when Steve sat in the log hut with George Washington. Her people
have overflowed the country, they have pushed the Red Indian back
steadily, and to-day they swarm in almost every part. The virgin
forest of that day, the haunt of the buffalo and the hunting grounds
of the Indian, now resound to the clang of the hammer, to the crash
of the train, and to the hum and roar of a thriving population.
Thousands come to the land every year to swell the throng, and paucity
of population is no longer a source of anxious thought for the
governments of the various States.

But it was in the year 1756. All told, the colonists of those thirteen
States did not exceed a million and a half, while each one of the
States may be said to have been of the size of England. It will be
realised at once that it was all that such a population could do to
colonise the neighbourhood of the coast, and that if the western
border was to extend, thousands must come out to the country. As a
matter of fact, however, few though the colonists were, their farms
extended a considerable distance from the coast, and save in the
towns, where they lived close together, the settlers were separated
by wide intervals. They placed their huts for the most part in the
fertile valleys, clinging to the rivers, thus having at hand the means
of getting their corn and produce to the coast. And slowly, as the
land was taken up, settlers took their farms farther and farther away,
till some barrier arrested further progress. Such a barrier existed,
and a glance at the map will show the position of the Alleghany
Mountains, extending from Pennsylvania down to Georgia. It was not,
of course, an obstacle which could not be surmounted, but it was for
all that an obstacle which turned the would-be farmer back, for the
simple reason that, with such a range stretching between him and the
coast, there was no possibility of his getting his produce to market.
Moreover, on the far side of that range Indians inhabited the forests,
and they were an enemy to be reckoned with and feared.

[Illustration: CANADA and OUR AMERICAN COLONY in 1755.]

Thus it happened that from Pennsylvania south to Georgia there was
every inducement to the young colonies to be satisfied with what land
they already possessed, while to the north, where the natural barrier
of the Alleghany Mountains did not exist, there were other barriers,
none the less formidable, which held the State of New York and those
of New England in check. Stretching between them and the unknown west
lay the country inhabited by the Iroquois, consisting of six nations
of Indians who had banded themselves together for purposes of offence
and defence, and who were friendly to our colonists. To think of
snatching their hunting lands from them, was to think of a relentless
and fearful war, which might damage the prosperity of the colonies.
Farther north there ran the huge river St. Lawrence, with the French
and their so-called Christian Indians for ever ready to sweep over the
frontier.

It will be realized then, that there was reason why the young States
should not extend, but in dealing with them, one must not forget the
host of trappers and hunters belonging to each State, who, like the
Indians, steadily and surely pushed on away from the settlers. For
where there were villages there was little game, and it was upon
the latter that they depended for a livelihood. And so it happened
that, while the colonies proper came to an end at the slopes of the
Alleghany mountains, the trappers clambered over the range, and
descended into the country beyond. And in course of time, when their
numbers had increased and they had driven the Indians back after many
a battle, they too formed settlements, adventurous farmers joined
them, cleared the forest, and lived the dual life of farmer and
trapper. Then the restless spirit of the hunters took them on again,
till the forests west of the mountains harboured many and many a
gallant trapper, till their solitary log huts were seen in the valley
of the Ohio, on the banks of the Monongahela, the Alleghany, and the
Kenawha.

Those were the men who knew that Indians still existed, who hunted
the bison and the bear, and fought the bloodthirsty native of the
forests in his own manner and with bitter determination. It was
these hardy fellows, men of Tom Mainwaring's stamp, trappers such
as Jim and Mac and Pete, who carried old England's banner into new
lands, and who were the very first to come in contact with the French
and their Indians. Their occupation of this valley of the Ohio won
claims for England which France could not deny and which we could not
repudiate, and though up to this date the various States had for the
most part stood aside, apathetically watching while these honest and
brave pioneers were driven back, their huts fired and their people
massacred, yet the time was now come when they and the Government in
England were to recall the fact that this valley of the Ohio was ours
by right of conquest, that it had been won by the toil and blood of
the trappers.

There remains but one other point to explain with regard to the
colonies. It may be asked why these million and a half souls looked
on so calmly while the unfortunate pioneers and trappers were hunted
and massacred, why they sat at home while the Indians swarmed to the
western slopes of the Alleghanies and over the crest, slaughtering and
destroying the settlements? It must be a matter for marvel that they
remained for the most part inert and unshaken, even while the third
line of defences was ravaged, and the bloody war brought to their very
farms and mansions.

There were many reasons for this state of affairs, and it may be said
of the Southern States that it was so long now since their fathers
and their grandfathers had driven the redskins over the Alleghany
Mountains that they had forgotten that the Indians existed. There were
no longer raids in their direction, and no fear of massacre. Then
again, those who managed the affairs of the scattered population of
these various States were more than inclined to sink patriotism and
all thought of their fellow-States in acrimonious discussions amongst
themselves, in petty squabbles over some matter which was of the
smallest actual importance, and in for ever harassing their governor.
They fought amongst themselves, squabbled with their neighbours as
to boundary lines, and wrangled while their countrymen were being
massacred, and even their own security threatened.

In the north it was entirely different. The States of New York and
New England had French and French Indians on their borders, and
they had never forgotten the bitterness of former wars, nor did the
ever-present fear of an incursion help to dull their memories. We
shall see that it was to these Northern States in particular that we
are indebted for men and money, and for the initiative which first
roused the States to a sense of their duty, and the home Government to
the need for a leader and active opposition to the aims of France.

Having given some idea of the thirteen States and their condition in
and about the year 1756, let us turn to France and her possessions in
North America. And perhaps it will be of interest to go as fully into
this part as into that concerning our own colony. Let the reader run
his finger from the northernmost tip of the island of Newfoundland
along the northern shore of the St. Lawrence, and he will pass over
the route which the gallant Jacques Cartier, of St. Malo, followed
in the years 1535-36, when on a voyage commissioned by Francis I.
This bold sailor was the first known European to ascend the mighty
St. Lawrence river, a river which is of huge proportions, and which
is fed by the most gigantic reservoirs. Look at the five huge lakes,
Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie, and Ontario, which cover a space
larger than that covered by the whole of Great Britain, and consider
that these five drain steadily into this St. Lawrence river, and you
will perhaps have some idea of the vastness of this gigantic waterway.

This Jacques Cartier cast anchor off the Isle of Orleans, which he
named the Isle of Bacchus, for it was well covered with vines, and
lay near the river St. Croix, within sight of the position where the
city of Quebec now stands. He met with a friendly reception from the
natives, and afterwards sailed up the river to Montreal, where an
Indian town was then situated. Having done more than any other white
man was known to have done, he erected a cross at St. Croix, claimed
the land for his master and for France, and duly returned home, having
completed his second voyage to these parts, a voyage commissioned,
as has been said, by Francis I., with the object of discovering a
short route to the Indies and new countries not yet discovered and
appropriated by the Spanish or the Portuguese.

Monsieur Roberval was the first lieutenant to take up his residence
in the newly-found country. It is quite unnecessary to follow his
unimportant doings there, or the fate of the immigrants who went to
join him. But it may be stated that progress was exceptionally slow,
that colonists were few and far between, and that for many years the
French population of New France was extremely small. Sometimes the new
possessions met with favour from the French court, and for a while a
new impetus was given to colonising. And gradually the interior of the
country was opened up, or rather, some superficial knowledge of it was
gained from the reports of discoverers and hunters. For here, as in
the Ohio valley, the chief inducement to the hardy pioneers to push
on was the desire to obtain furs, for which there was always a ready
sale.

But it must not be thought that their journeys took them so far that
nothing more was left to discover. Other men of the same venturesome
turn of mind were to appear upon the scene, Champlain amongst the
most noteworthy. Then, too, we must direct our attention to Nova
Scotia, the French Acadie, which attracted the eyes of the colonists
in 1604. We find that expeditions landed here and founded settlements,
and later we hear of gentlemen adventurers coming to this fertile
Acadie, there to seek their fortunes. In course of time, too, to be
precise, in the year 1625, Jesuit missionaries sailed for New France,
and we find them hereafter dominating the affairs of the colony,
ever pushing forward and boldly entering the country of the Indians.
Indeed, the history of Canada is filled with accounts of these
gallant missionaries, who struggled often alone into the forests, who
were murdered and tortured by the redskins, and who yet pressed on,
endeavouring always to bring the heathen Indian under the influence of
their religion.

Cardinal Richelieu also appears upon the scene, the great Richelieu
who dominated France, and we find him forming a trading company and
arranging to send out artisans.

It is interesting at this time to remember that England had colonists
at Massachusetts Bay, and that this country was ambitious of
obtaining more lands, and even of ousting the French. Indeed, in
the year 1628 Kirk appeared in the St. Lawrence off Quebec, and
though he did not take the place, Champlain, then the governor, had
the mortification of hearing that, in his descent of the river he
had captured four armed vessels and eighteen transports, which were
conveying those artisans whom the great Richelieu had selected. This
was a serious set back to the colonists, and was increased tenfold
in the following year, for Kirk again appeared upon the scene, and
summoned Champlain to surrender. That was the first occasion when the
broad banner of England floated over the fort of St. Louis, and the
site whereon the city of Quebec now stands. However, on returning
home, Kirk discovered that the war with France was at an end, and as
a result the treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye was signed, and Charles I.
handed back to France her possessions on the St. Lawrence, and Port
Royal, in Acadie.

During all these years the progress of New France had been slow, and
on the mighty St. Lawrence her colonists were lost in the immensity
of their new possessions. In Acadie they had fared little better, and
though Port Royal was handed back to them and they enjoyed peaceful
possession of the country, it was not for a great number of years, for
our fleets captured the province in 1654, and in our hands it remained
till 1667, when Charles II. gave it back to Louis XIV.

We pass over those years in Canada with the mention of few events,
amongst the most important of which was the danger which the colonists
now encountered from the Iroquois. They had a deadly feud with these
men from France, and we hear of their canoes ascending the Richelieu
and lying off Quebec itself, taunting the small garrison. These
uneventful times, however, produced scores of gallant men desirous of
pushing on into the mysterious west, and the names of Etienne Brulé
and of Nicolet loom large in the list. For a while the invasion of the
Iroquois kept these spirits close to the forts at Montreal and Quebec,
but when the Indian trouble had subsided, the Mohawks having been
dispersed, these gallant men pushed on again. They were found on the
great lakes, and to north and south of them. Hunters pushed into the
wilderness in search of skins, _coureurs de bois_, often the younger
sons of men of position in France, blazed their tracks through the
forests, intent upon discovery. And with one or other were to be found
the ubiquitous priest, bolder and more persevering than any perhaps.
The tales of these wanderers fill one with wonder and admiration,
and the history of these years of discovery teach us that the French
were wonderful hunters and explorers. They took to the forests as a
duck does to water. Often enough they associated with wandering bands
of Indians, learned their language and lived with them for months
and even years at a time, dressing in their hunting costumes. The
fascination of the wilderness cast such a spell over the colonists
that at this period, when men were sorely needed in the settlements,
when the hold which France had on her fine possessions was none of the
securest, scarcely a young colonist, be he habitant or the son of a
man of consequence, could be persuaded to remain. Threats of severe
punishment could not keep them. They broke from home ties, took their
ponderous muskets, their bullet and their powder pouches, and went off
into the forests, content to hunt and wander into a country which was
entirely strange, and to indulge in a life of freedom and adventure,
where hardship was the order of the day, and where only the strongest
and boldest survived.

But it must not be supposed that the governing powers at Quebec, in
their endeavours to retain these young men, entirely muzzled the
desire to make fresh discoveries. They fostered the idea, selected
suitable men, and equipped expeditions. Frontenac, whose name has
secured an honoured place in the history of Canada, sent Jolliet to
find that great water of which the French had heard, though it had
been but vaguely mentioned. This intrepid explorer finally launched
his canoe on the waters of the giant Missipi (as it was then spelled),
and with Marquette, a bold Jesuit, paddled down the stream. René
Robert Cavalier, Sieur de la Salle, completed this important work of
exploration, and with Tonty and Father Membré sailed down the long
stretches of the Mississippi till he reached the Gulf of Mexico. This
momentous voyage opened the eyes of the French very wide indeed, for
the travellers could tell of fertile lands stretching from the great
lakes to the gulf in the south, and of a huge expanse of country which
would give refuge one of these days to millions of wanderers pressed
out of their own native lands by the overcrowding there. However,
beyond building a few forts, nothing more of consequence was done
till we arrive at a period in which New France, now generally styled
Canada, made rapid strides under the able leadership of her governors
and the careful attention of Louis Quatorze.

There were perhaps three thousand souls in the colony prior to this
period, and it was obvious that many more were required if France was
to retain her rights there. The astute young king was the first to
recognise this, and we find him sending emigrants in large numbers,
emigrants who had been carefully selected. They consisted of young men
of the peasant class, called _habitants_, and of officers and younger
sons, for the most part unmarried. Then ship loads of peasant girls
and demoiselles were dispatched to the colony, and every inducement
offered to these men and women to marry and settle down. Indeed, young
men who failed to take notice of these inducements were harried and
taxed till they fell in with the wishes of their king. In addition
to these emigrants, men of some family were persuaded to go to the
colony, and from these smaller "gentilhommes" a Canadian noblesse was
formed, seigneurs were selected from amongst them, and a form of
feudal life commenced in the backwoods. The seigneur had a huge grant
of uncleared forest, he built his log hut or cabin, and a rough fort
to protect him against the Indians. And about this fort gathered his
_habitants_, tilling the land he allotted them, and paying their rent
in kind, a portion of corn, a few bear skins, fresh salmon from the
lake, or other commodities. Allegiance they gave to their seigneur for
the simple reason that these seigneuries were scattered and widely
separated, and self-support was their only policy, for otherwise they
would have fallen victims to the first redskin marauders.

And thus we find the possessions of France slowly being peopled, till
in the year when Steve and his friends reached the Alleghanies, the
colonists numbered some 60,000 souls, exclusive of some ten thousand
living in Acadie, once French but now English, though the _habitant_
who had filled that smiling land was French by birth and intensely
French in thought and sympathy. We find Cape Breton, an island just
north of Nova Scotia, a possession of France, with the formidable
fortress of Louisbourg situated upon it, and its ramparts bristling
with cannon. Hunters and _coureurs de bois_ had sailed across the
lakes, and knew every foot of their shores, while soldiers and agents
of France had built forts and trading posts in numerous places, had
erected stockades at certain points on the Mississippi, and were
slowly progressing in a scheme which promised soon to allow the men
descending this mighty Mississippi to join hands with men of their
blood at New Orleans, settled some time ago by the French.

Look again at the map for a moment, and see what such a line of forts
meant. It cut the northern continent into two unequal parts, leaving
France the major portion lying to the west, as well as that wide tract
between the Mississippi and the Alleghanies. It was this portion,
commencing with the valley of the Ohio, which they determined to
occupy, despite the fact that our hunters and pioneers had penetrated
its forests years before, and it was this same valley in which their
own Indians were now camping, having harried and massacred far and
wide, and set fire to all the settlements not only in the valley, but
as far as and beyond the Alleghany range.

History repeats itself, and it is strange to consider that the
constant forward movement of these persevering French was copied years
afterwards by those gallant

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