THE TREASURE BOX THAT WAS FORGOTTEN
AS this thrilling cry rang through the settlement, supplemented by the
wild peals of the alarm bell in the block house, all the inmates of
David Armstrong's cabin were on their feet.
Sleep had been banished as if by magic; indeed, the boys had never felt
more wide-awake in all their lives. And there was plenty to do, as well
as willing hands with which to accomplish the labor.
Fortunate indeed did it prove that everybody had anticipated this
sudden necessity, and that the scanty household goods, some of them
precious only through their associations with that Virginia of the
past, had been so packed that they could be carried to higher ground,
and a place of safety, in a very brief time.
Indeed, so rapidly was the water coming up now, that, by the time the
last piece had been taken from the Armstrong cabin it commenced to
trickle over the door-sill. Bob's last visit was made with more or less
splashing, as he strode around the familiar interior, now looking so
strange with the floor covered by the flood.
Some of the settlers, Mr. Armstrong among them, had made use of the
strongest ropes they could obtain, to tie their cabins to convenient
trees, hoping that in this way they might add to their security. When
the strength of the current and the hulk of those log cabins was taken
into consideration, however, this hope did not have a great deal to
rest upon.
There now seemed nothing left to do but cluster there beyond the edge
of the river, and take note of its constant rise. All whose cabins were
in danger had saved their goods, and in this considered themselves
lucky. New cabins could of course be built, since there was wood in
plenty, and stout arms to swing the axe; but these family possessions
could never have been replaced.
There was one little consolation, slender though it might appear; the
clouds had finally broken, and the stars were shining. It seemed almost
as though the myriad bright eyes of heaven were peeping out, to see the
extent of the damage and woe that had been wrought.
Unable to stand quiet and watch the raging waters creep up around
the walls of their late home, the Armstrong boys joined the group not
far away. Fires had been lighted, and the glow of these added to the
weirdness of the scene, as the settlers moved to and fro, comparing
notes, trying to find comfort in their mutual troubles, and seizing on
the slightest grain of hope afforded by reports that the crest of the
rise must surely have come, after which the waters would go down again.
"What is Pat O'Mara talking so fiercely about?" asked Bob, as he joined
the group, after having been off to see how things were getting on in
the direction of the river; and Sandy, who had remained where most of
the homeless families had congregated, turned with a frown on his face.
"It is about those miserable French trappers," he replied.
"But what of them?" persisted Bob; "surely we need not fear their
setting fire to our cabin just now; and even Pat, who hates those men
so much, could not well accuse them of having turned this water loose."
"That is all very true, Bob; but one of the settlers has just mentioned
the fact that he felt almost positive he ran across two men, dressed
like trappers, who were hurrying away from the settlement. He called
out to them, thinking that they might be friends, but they paid no heed
to his hail. And, as he got to thinking the matter over, all at once it
struck him who they must have been."
"When was it that he saw them?" demanded Bob, immediately concerned.
"It may have been an hour or so ago; about the time the water was
rising around our cabin, and, unable to bear the sight, we came here,"
Sandy replied. "They are all wondering what could have brought those
men here at such a time; and every one seems to think that it must
have been the hope of laying their hands on some valuables, while the
settlers were given up to excitement."
"That looks like it, Sandy," the other replied, quickly. "All have
piled up whatever they possess in a heap, not caring where it lies so
long as the waters cannot carry it off. But people are there on the
watch all the time, and children snuggled down in the midst of the
bedclothes; so it doesn't seem as if those men could find much worth
carrying off."
"Well, Pat is as angry as a bull at sight of a red kerchief," Sandy
continued. "You know how he hates and despises everything that is
French. He vows that, if he can only get one glimpse of either Jacques
or Henri, his rifle will speak; and it seldom does that without
something dropping."
"Were they leaving the settlement at the time this man saw them?" asked
Bob.
"That was what he thought," his brother replied. "When he called out,
they seemed to hasten their footsteps, as though fearful that he might
try to detain them. He says he stood and wondered who they could be,
and why they refused to answer his hail. It was only when too late that
the truth flashed into his mind."
"Well, if they are gone, let us hope it is for good," remarked Bob.
"But why should they be around here at all, when they know the
hostility of the English settlers toward the French?" asked Sandy. "It
is always war between them, and especially in the wilderness where
the trap lines run. Each claims all the country between here and the
Mississippi; together with all the fur-bearing animals that can be
found there. And that dispute will never be settled without a bloody
war."
"Perhaps they meant to either try and rob some of the settlers here,
or else set fire to our home," Bob ventured to say. "The coming of the
flood changed their plans; and, as the people were all aroused, they
must have decided that it was too dangerous for them to stay around
here. And so, at the time they were seen, Jacques and Henri may have
been scuttling out."
"How is it at the cabin?" asked Sandy, with a tremor in his voice; for,
truth to tell, he felt the impending catastrophe even more than his
brother did, and could not bear to look upon what seemed to be the doom
of their home.
"I'm sorry to say the water seems still to be rising, and we must not
allow ourselves to cling to much hope that it can be saved," was Bob's
reply. "I feel more for mother and Kate than the rest of us. They sit
there among our goods, white of face, but trying to bear up. Father
cheers them with a few words every now and then; but they know he only
talks that way because he cannot bear to see them so miserable, and not
that he really believes the flood is at a standstill."
"Poor father and mother, they have had so many things to bear with,"
said Sandy. "We must try to look cheerful, just for their sakes. And
besides, you know, at the worst it may mean a change of base for us,
Bob."
"I know what you are thinking of, Sandy," the other remarked, with a
shake of his head. "That Mississippi idea will not let go of you."
"But others are really talking about it right now, Bob, I tell you,"
Sandy insisted, earnestly. "You would be surprised to know how many
heads of families are thinking that it would be a splendid undertaking
to leave this country, where misfortune has overtaken them, and go
further into the golden west. There was Mr. Harness for one, Mr.
Bancroft for another, and possibly Mr. Wayne. Something seems to tell
me, brother, that the coming of this flood, terrible though it appears,
will be the very means of making our father decide to go upon this
undertaking. Oh! I hope so! I hope so! I surely know that it would be
for the best; and that we could have a homestead in that beautiful
wilderness out yonder, that would far exceed anything ever known along
the Ohio, with its floods and troublesome Indians."
"When father makes his mind up, then will be the time for the rest of
us to say what we think," Bob observed. "But we must wait and see.
Perhaps, when the waters go down again, our neighbors will forget what
they said this night, and think it best to rebuild, if their homes have
been swept away."
"Come, let us go over, and comfort our mother again," Sandy suggested.
"A good idea," returned Bob. "This is a time for us to try to look
cheerful, as you say. We are young, and can stand hardships easily; but
our parents are growing old now, and such things weigh heavily on them.
I'm with you; lead the way."
They found Mrs. Armstrong and Kate apparently hunting through the pile
of household goods for something that seemed to be missing.
"What is it, mother?" asked Sandy, quickly, scenting possible trouble.
"I cannot find my little treasure box, in which I kept what few
valuables I possessed, as well as your wampum belt which Pontiac gave
you as a pledge of his constant good will," Mrs. Armstrong replied.
"And, come to think of it, did any of you bring it out of the cabin?
You know I kept it on that small shelf above the window."
The two boys looked at each other in dismay. There was no need to ask
if either had seen the box of valuables, for the expression on their
faces told the story.
"It must be in the cabin still, then!" exclaimed Sandy.
Forgetting his lame ankle, he turned and hurried away, impulsive as
ever; and Mrs. Armstrong wrung her hands as she appealed to Bob to stop
him.
"Much as I value the things that are in that little box, not for ten
times their worth would I have one of my boys imperil his life in the
effort to save them. Go as fast as you can, then, Bob, and hold your
hasty brother in check before he takes that dreadful risk!"
Hardly waiting to hear the last word, Bob was off like a shot. He was
just in time, for as he came upon Sandy the latter had reached the edge
of the water, and was about to start boldly into the swift current,
meaning to swim out to the half-submerged cabin.
Bob gripped him by the arm, and shouted in his ear:
"You must not go out there, Sandy, mother says! It would be an act of
madness. Already the water is over our heads; and look at the way the
cabin trembles with the force of the current. It may be carried away
at any minute!"
And Sandy, with a groan, let his head drop until his chin rested on his
chest, for he saw that Bob spoke truly.