THE BIRCH-BARK MESSAGE
WHEN Bob Armstrong parted from his brother he quickened his steps. The
next trap was not very far away; but, as he had just said, he did not
like the looks of the cloudy sky, and began to fear that, after all,
the break in the heavy rainy spell was going to prove of but short
duration.
He knew that the little mother in that cabin on the other side of the
swollen water would be worried about her boys, and Bob disliked to give
her any more reason for anxiety than could be helped.
As he walked along he thought of what Sandy had said about his
determination, sooner or later, to follow the river down past Fort
Washington, and far away to where it united with the greatest of
watercourses, the mighty Mississippi. Bob, himself, was not so
indifferent to the beckoning finger of adventure as his words to his
brother might lead one to believe. He, too, had listened to those
marvelous stories told by trappers and traders, and, when twice a
flatboat had landed at their rude little float, giving the settlers a
chance to talk with the bold souls who were bent on risking the unknown
dangers that lay beyond, Bob had hung upon the adventurers' words,
and had longed to join the party as it continued its voyage down the
Ohio into the unknown land. He had, however, always thrust aside the
thought, feeling that neither he nor Sandy ought to think of leaving
the father, mother and sister Kate, who made up the Armstrong household.
As he approached the spot where the trap lay, Bob once more became the
trapper, and forgot all else. He saw that success had come to them, for
there was certainly some animal in the trap.
It had been set in a certain little gully, where the boys had
discovered the tracks of several mink, together with their holes. The
tiny stream that had trickled through this same gully in the preceding
fall, was now a rushing torrent, and the trap had lately been set high
up on the bank, just in front of a particularly inviting opening, where
many tracks told of its being a favorite haunt for the wandering males
of the furry tribe he hunted.
Yes, it was a mink he had captured, and really the largest and finest
of the whole winter's catch. Bob felt pleased to make this discovery,
for every pelt which they could gather meant more comforts in the
Armstrong home.
The mink seemed unusually fierce, and put up a savage fight when Bob
started to dispose of him; but the young trapper would not be denied,
and he quickly put an end to the animal's sufferings.
As a usual thing the traps for mink and muskrats were set in such
fashion that, after being caught, the animals would jump into the
water, and be drowned by the weight of the trap; so that it was seldom
they found one alive that had to be disposed of in this manner.
Having reset the trap, Bob sat down to wait for the coming of Sandy,
and, while sitting there, he drew something out of an inner pocket of
his hunting tunic, which he examined with considerable interest, as
well as with many shakes of the head, that told of bewilderment.
The object was a soft and pliable piece of clean birch bark, upon the
brown side of which were traced several rude drawings, such as a child
might make. This had been done with some sharp instrument, possibly the
point of a knife.
Bob Armstrong knew well that these crude figures of men, campfires,
streams and trails were not intended to express the idle whim of some
white child, beginning to draw the things he saw around him.
Bob had looked upon Indian picture-writing before now; indeed, a young
Shawanee brave, named Blue Jacket, whose life he had once saved, and
whose friendship the brothers prized very much, had shown them how to
read these symbols, by means of which the red men communicated after
their own fashion, just as the palefaces did by putting all those queer
little signs in a line, and calling it writing.
This was the second time that Bob had found a birch-bark letter left
mysteriously at the cabin. No one knew whence they came; but, when the
characters were deciphered, on each occasion it was found that some one
was warning them against danger that hovered over their heads.
On the first occasion, they read that two white men were hanging
around near the settlement, and meant to do the Armstrong family harm.
The careful mother's first thought was of Kate, her only daughter, a
pretty girl, who had already been once carried away by a young chief
of the Delawares, and rescued only after much trouble by her brothers,
assisted by Simon Kenton and several of the young woodranger's comrades.
That very night there had come the alarm of fire, with the greedy
flames doing their best to devour the cabin where David Armstrong and
his little brood lived. Only through the most valiant labor was the
fire conquered before it could do much harm. And, now, Bob had found
a second strange warning under the door of the cabin, on that very
morning, he being the first to arise.
He traced each symbol with his finger as he sat there and mused. There
were the same two men again, whom he believed must stand for the ugly
French trappers, because they wore hats, which no Indian ever was known
to do; and their feet "toed-out," which was another sure sign. In
addition, he could make out the cabins of the settlers, and the two
bent figures appeared to be creeping toward them.
Of course, word of the message had been carried to all the other men in
the community, and doubtless there would be a strict watch kept that
coming night. If Jacques Larue and his companion, Henri Lacroix, were
discovered approaching the settlement, other than erect on their feet,
the chances were that they would be given a very warm reception.
But Bob was not puzzling his head just now about what the symbols
meant. He had had little difficulty in understanding that some one
intended to warn them against the attacks of their old-time enemies.
The question that gave both Bob and Sandy cause for speculation was the
identity of the friend from whom these two birch-bark warnings came.
It was not Blue Jacket, Bob knew. He had seen the young Shawanee brave
draw similar figures, and they were slightly different from those now
in front of him; even as one person's handwriting looks unlike that of
another. And yet Bob felt positive that the work must have been done by
an Indian.
The mystery piqued his curiosity greatly. He and Sandy had tried to
reason it out, and discover the identity of this unknown and unseen
friend among the red men; but up to now they had not met with any
success.
After looking at the little strip of bark for a minute, Bob shook
his head, as though once more compelled to abandon the solution of
the puzzle; and, allowing it to roll up again of its own accord, he
replaced the message in his pocket.
"I'd give a lot to know who sent those two messages," he muttered, as
he started to take the skin off the mink, not wishing to carry any more
burden than seemed necessary, if they were to continue along the line
of traps. "But, anyway, it's nice to feel that we've got a good friend
among the Indians, who takes delight in upsetting the plans of those
two precious rascals. Some day he may see fit to make himself known to
us. But, I wonder what keeps Sandy. He surely ought to be here by now,
for he had plenty of time to get to that trap, and fix it fresh, if it
was sprung. I hope nothing has happened to him."
He looked eagerly along the back trail, but failed to see any sign
of the approaching figure of his younger brother. The afternoon was
more than three-quarters past, and in another hour they could expect
darkness to swoop down upon the land.
Bob noted this fact when he again looked up toward the darkening
heavens.
"We will have to leave the rest of the traps until another day," he
said to himself, uneasily. "I promised mother that I would not take
any more chances than necessary, and she did not seem any too well
satisfied about our crossing to-day, as it was. But, how queer Sandy
does not come! Perhaps I'd better start back after him."
Once this idea had taken root in his mind, Bob could not remain at
ease. He arose to his feet, took the mink in one hand, with his rifle
clutched in the other, and started off.
Hardly had he taken ten steps when he heard a call. It was certainly
his own name, and coupled with a word that sent a thrill through him.
"Bob! oh! Bob! Help!"
Instantly the boy dropped the mink, utterly unmindful of the value of
the fine pelt. He started off at a swift pace, heading in the direction
whence the shout came.
If Sandy was in danger, then it must be some of those hateful French
trappers again. Bob could remember how they had first met them, and
there were three at that time. A fine deer had fallen before the gun of
one of the brothers, and, upon rushing forward to bleed the prize, they
found themselves confronted by a trio of burly men whose appearance
told the lads that they were French trappers, even before they proved
this fact by their speech.
These fellows had claimed that they shot the deer, and there was
trouble in prospect that might have ended seriously, but for the
fortunate coming of Kenton and two companions, who proved the right of
the boys to the spoils, and sent the Frenchmen away, with a warning not
to look back or they would rue it.
Quickly Bob covered the ground. All the while he had his gun ready
for use in case of necessity. Now he could see Sandy, and, when he
discovered the other on hands and knees, great was his wonder, until he
heard him cry out:
"Take care, Bob, there's a big panther in the brush close by, and bent
on jumping on you! My foot's fast in the trap, and I can't get free. Go
slow, and be ready to shoot, for he's savage with hunger, and as fierce
as they make them. Look out! there he comes now!"