PONTIAC'S PERIL
CLOSER came the footfalls.
Bob almost held his breath, as he began to fear that the approaching
Indians must actually step upon them, when discovery would of necessity
follow. It was a terrible moment of suspense.
But Kenton had anticipated something of this sort, it would seem, when
he led his little expedition into that patch of brush. The leading
figure turned abruptly aside when just about to jump into the thicket,
and those following at his heels did likewise.
Bob, out of the tail of his eye, for he dared not even move his head,
counted seven warriors go leaping past. They gave vent to tremendous
whoops as they thus burst into the village, and, from the answering
cries, it was plain to be seen that they were envoys, sent from some
distant Indian settlement to Pontiac.
Again there was more or less noise and confusion, with dogs harking,
and many voices raised, asking what it all meant. The Indian messengers
were taken into the heart of the village, where doubtless they secured
an immediate interview with Pontiac and the head chiefs, after which
they would be served a feast of baked dog, provided for the occasion.
Once again Bob and his brother breathed easy. It had, however, been
a narrow escape, and they felt that they had reason to feel thankful
because discovery was thus averted.
How Sandy would have liked to be able to whisper what was passing
through his mind; but he had been warned against this by Kenton, and
realized that silence would add to their chance of success.
They no longer lay flat on the earth, for, with the change in
conditions, Kenton led the way, once more crouching on his knees, so as
to look through the little openings in the bushes.
The hour was growing late, and by degrees they noted that the crowds
had begun to disappear from the open spaces between the numerous lodges
that went to make up the great village of Kiashuta and his branch of
the Seneca tribe. Already had all the squaws vanished from sight, as
well as the numerous papooses and the half-grown boys who had been
allowed to witness this wild dance in the hope that it might inspire
them with a desire to emulate the fighting warriors as they grew older.
"Listen--the wind!"
Sandy could not help saying this into the ear of his brother, taking
advantage of some noise close by, which he believed would muffle the
sound of his voice.
Bob had not been unmindful of the fact that the pine tops were now
swaying before the breeze. They no longer sighed and moaned, but there
was a decided "swish" as they strove to hold their heads up before the
rising gusts.
Kenton, too, had taken note of this fact. He knew that it was time he
and Abijah and Blue Jacket were going. They must make a detour, and yet
arrive on the scene of their contemplated labors before the storm broke.
Bob and Sandy did not attempt to follow. Their duty was to lie still
where they were until the alarm was given, and, with the flashing up of
numerous fires, to retreat to a certain spot where five chestnuts grew
in a clump. Here they would be joined, not only by the two scouts, but
by Blue Jacket as well, and the latter was expected to bring with him
the little captive girl, their sister Kate.
Kenton and his companion would have a dangerous mission. They intended
to apply the blazing torch to as many of the lodges on the windward
side of the village as they possibly could, so that the fire would get
such a start that it could not possibly be put out before much damage
had been done.
Of course, while they were thus running hither and thither, thrusting
their firebrands this way and that, they took chances of being impaled
on the spear of some furious brave, or feeling a tomahawk come crashing
down upon their heads; but so often had they dared such risks that they
gave it slight heed now.
Left alone, the young pioneers began to feel the responsibility of
their position. There, just before them, lay the great Indian village,
with its hundreds of people, and its scores upon scores of lodges, in
each of which rested those who were now declared enemies to the whites.
True, there might be found a few whose skins were not red; but their
hearts were even blacker than that of any Indian, for such renegades as
Simon Girty hated their own kind as venomously as so many snakes would
have done. Driven out of the settlements along the border for various
crimes, they had joined their fortunes with the savages, and at all
times distanced the most cruel and crafty Indian in their treacherous
conduct toward the pioneers.
There was no one close enough now to catch a low whisper, so that
Sandy, who felt that he must express his feelings or burst, took
occasion to say in the ear of the other:
"Can you give a guess where Black Beaver's lodge lies, Bob?"
Now, that was a matter to which the other had himself given more or
less attention. When he surveyed the numerous skin shelters, with their
three poles sticking up out of the hole at the top, where the smoke
of the fire came forth, he had kept in mind what Blue Jacket told him
about the symbolic and crude paintings with which Black Beaver had
decorated his tepee.
"When the fires burned their brightest I thought I saw it away off
yonder to the right," he answered, in the same cautious tone that would
be utterly unheard five feet away, especially while that breeze rustled
the waving branches of the overhanging trees.
"Yes, that is to the east, and he said it lay there," continued Sandy.
"But try to tell me which it was. Can you make it out still, Bob?"
"I think so," replied the other, who knew that Sandy simply wished to
feast his hungry eyes on the wigwam thus picked out, and try to imagine
that he could see the loved form of little Kate beyond its painted
walls.
"Look closely," he went on, softly, "and notice that large lodge with
the buffalo and the hunter. There, a fire just blazed up, and you
can see it plainly. Now, the third one beyond has a double border of
pictures on the skin. When the light was good I could see them plainly,
and I am sure they are just what Blue Jacket told me Black Beaver had
decorated his lodge with."
"I see which one you mean, Bob, thank you." And again Sandy sighed
as he glued his eyes on that particular wigwam, which he believed
contained the lode-star that had guided him through all the perils
hovering in the woods between the Ohio and the Great Lakes.
Then Sandy fell silent again. Several times he gave a quick gasp, as
he fancied he caught some movement in the vicinity of that very lodge.
Could it be their faithful friend, Blue Jacket, hovering about, and
making ready to strike when the wild alarm called the young Seneca
chief hurrying from his lodge to assist in fighting the devouring
flames?
Bob believed that enough time had now elapsed to allow the others to
reach the stations assigned to them. That the blazing torch of the
incendiary was not already in evidence he believed due to one or two
causes.
First, Kenton may have concluded that there were still too many
warriors moving about in the village. They would be in a position to
attack the holders of the firebrands, and, worse luck still, to put out
the fire before it had gained sufficient headway.
Then again, the storm, while growling in the distance, did not show
signs of bursting upon the lake shore immediately, and its presence
was very essential, in order to make the havoc so tremendous that the
terrified Indians could think of nothing save the wild fight to prevent
the whole village from going up in flames and smoke.
"Hist! yonder come two Indians this way! Be silent!"
Bob gave this warning because he did not know what moment his brother
might attempt to communicate with him again, for Sandy always found it
hard work to keep a still tongue in his head.
Just as he had said, a couple of Indians were walking slowly in their
direction, seemingly in deep conversation.
Sandy nudged his brother in the side, and managed to whisper, despite
the warning he had received:
"One is Pontiac himself!"
But Bob had before now discovered this fact for himself; also that the
companion of the great sachem was no other than the warlike Seneca
chief, Kiashuta. Perhaps Pontiac intended leaving the village at
daybreak, in order to proceed on his travels, stirring up hatred in the
breasts of every tribe he visited. And there were many things he wished
to communicate to his red brother ere he went away.
They came to a stand not more than forty feet away from the bushes
behind which the two Armstrong boys crouched. Sandy had even feared
lest they meant to enter the forest at that particular point, and in so
doing might stumble on the pair of young spies hiding there.
But Bob had seen that they were really heading for a log that happened
to be lying in the open. Upon this they sat down, and for some little
time Pontiac continued to speak in low but earnest tones. It might be
he was finding out just how many armed warriors Kiashuta could throw
into the field at short notice, when the signal belt reached him that
the confederated tribes had risen in their might.
Bob wished they would finish their palaver, and depart. He feared
that, should Kenton take a notion to start operations, the presence of
these two chiefs so near the hiding-place of himself and Sandy might
interfere with their withdrawal, according to the plans laid out.
Again Sandy nudged him to indicate something; but it was only that
Kiashuta had arisen and hurried away, going direct to the large lodge
in the centre of the village that marked the wigwam of the head chief.
Pontiac remained seated, with his back almost directly toward the
spies. His air was thoughtful, as though the weight of many problems
rested heavily upon his mind.
By this time the boys had grown accustomed to the sight of the most
famous of all Indian chiefs. His presence no longer inspired them with
that sensation of awe such as had marked their first glimpse of the
magic leader, as he addressed the council under the sacred oak.
"I hope he goes away soon!" whispered Sandy, unable to keep utterly
still.
"Perhaps we can back out slowly, an inch at a time," answered his
brother; for the storm was muttering louder now, and seemed on the
point of developing without much waste of time. He began to follow his
words with action, wriggling backward, and being careful not to stir
the bushes in the least.
Sandy, realizing that his brother was actually moving, also began
to work his way back. An inch at a time, if continued for a certain
distance, would allow of their making better progress, until they could
finally rise to their feet, and glide off to the rendezvous of the five
chestnuts.
He was alongside Bob, and still wriggling along, keeping his eyes in
the direction where that kingly figure sat upon the log, when the older
boy felt his fingers gripping his arm.
Sandy did not utter a single word; perhaps he could not find his voice
to do so, he was so shocked by what he had suddenly discovered. Bob,
catching some of the same spirit, simply shut his hands tight together,
and held his breath, while a low whispered "Oh!" fell from his parted
lips.
Just behind the sitting form of Pontiac a bending figure was creeping,
and an uplifted hand clutched a terrible club, which the would-be
assassin undoubtedly meant to bring down with cruel force on the
unprotected head of the war sachem. And to his intense astonishment Bob
recognized in this creeping figure Jacques Larue, whom they had left
tied hand and foot in the cascade cavern!