AN UNDERGROUND STOREHOUSE
To the Indians, as some of my young readers must know, many wampum belts
were speech belts, usually given as a present when some great message was
delivered. Consequently, White Buffalo looked the belts over with great
interest, certain that they were connected with matters of great
importance.
"Pontiac is as powerful as White Buffalo supposed," said he presently.
Dave and Barringford did not reply, for they had pushed on to another
chamber of the cave. Here was an additional sight that made both cry out
with wonder.
"Didn't expect nuthin' like this, did you, Dave?" queried Barringford.
"Not in the least," answered the young hunter.
The chamber was not very large, but it was literally filled with rifles and
pistols of various sizes and makes, some still bright, and others much
rusted from water and dampness. To the collection were added several
swords, one with a scabbard and the others without. There were also a large
number of powder horns and bullet pouches, and other soldier equipments.
"Where did all this stuff come from?" went on Dave. "It looks like part of
an army outfit."
"Thet's jest wot it is, lad."
"And it must have belonged to our army."
"Right ag'in."
"If Pontiac was in command of the Indians at the time of General Braddock's
defeat, do you suppose he had some of the red men bring this stuff here?"
"That's a question. Either the stuff came from thet place, or else from
some other battle later on. One thing is sartin, there's a fairly good
quantity on it and it ought to be restored."
"What had we best do--tell the commander at Fort Pitt?"
"I reckon thet would be the proper thing to do, Dave."
"I suppose Pontiac thinks to use these guns some day," went on the young
pioneer. "He wanted to hide them until the time came to dig up the hatchet
once more."
"White Buffalo's brother must be right," came from the Indian chief. "In a
war the guns would give the Indians much power."
"Maybe Pontiac told the Indians he would make guns and swords by magic,"
said Dave suddenly.
"It is not impossible," returned White Buffalo gravely. "The magicians have
brought forth powder by magic."
"And so can Pontiac!" shouted Barringford, who had moved to one corner of
the chamber. "Reckon this is a bad place fer a torch," and he held back the
flame.
"What have you discovered now, Sam?"
"Five half-kegs o' powder."
As he spoke the old frontiersman pointed to a rocky shelf whereon rested
the five half-kegs, covered with a piece of heavy drugget, often used in
colonial days in place of rubber cloth.
"Full too," said Dave, after lifting one. "Sam, this stuff is worth a good
bit of money."
"Perhaps we'll git a reward if we return it to the government," was the
answer.
"It ought to be returned, whether we get a reward or not."
"Exactly as I think."
There was a narrow passageway behind the chamber and Sam Barringford
squeezed into this.
"Don't reckon I can make it," he panted presently. "Seems like I was a
leetle too hefty. Dave, do you want to try it? Might be an opening to the
outside world, an' if there is, we won't have to go through thet water
ag'in."
Taking the torch, Dave pushed into the opening, which gradually grew
smaller and smaller until he had to crawl on his hands and knees.
"Tight fit, eh?" called the old frontiersman after him.
"Yes, but it may be larger further on," answered the young pioneer, as he
continued to advance.
Fortunately the passageway was dry, so he had nothing to fear from water.
He progressed fully fifty feet, when he saw a large opening beyond.
"I'm coming to another room!" he shouted back.
But a sharp stone over a foot high barred his further progress. The stone
appeared to be rather loose, and he fancied he could push it out ahead of
him. Laying down the torch, he caught hold of the stone and soon had it
turned from its resting place.
"What are you doing?" called Barringford.
"Getting a stone out of my way."
"You jest be careful how you loosen up these stones," returned the old
frontiersman quickly. "The dirt don't seem to be none too hard, an'--"
Whatever else Sam Barringford said was lost upon Dave, for at that moment
down came a quantity of dirt on the young pioneer which almost buried him.
He attempted to back out the way he had come, but just as he was about to
move, more dirt fell in that direction, followed by half a dozen large
stones. Then, to avoid being completely caught, he pushed on ahead and by
tight squeezing forced his way into the chamber beyond.
The fall of stones and dirt was as dismaying as it was perilous. Looking
into the passageway, torch in hand, Dave saw that it was now completely
choked. To get out by the way he had come was impossible. He was virtually
entombed alive!
A shiver went over him and he called to Sam Barringford with all the power
of his youthful lungs. To his intense dismay, no answer came back, showing
that the fall of dirt and stones had been greater than anticipated.
"They'll surely try to dig me out," he thought. "But it may take a whole
day, and in the meantime--"
He did not finish, but his heart sank within him. He examined the
passageway once more and shouted as before. He fancied he heard an answer,
but was not certain.
Looking about him, the young pioneer saw that he was in a cavern not over
twenty feet square. Beyond was a tall split in the rocks which seemed to
run upwards.
"That may lead to daylight," he thought. "Anyway, I might as well try it as
stay here."
His torch was now burning so low he could no longer hold it. He looked
around for something else with which to continue the light, but nothing was
at hand. He rested the torch on a rock, and a few minutes later it
fluttered up and went out, leaving him in total darkness.
It was a truly horrible situation and Dave's heart sank like a lump of lead
in his bosom. For the time being all hope of escape appeared to be cut off.
He shouted again and again, but could get no reply.
"Of course they'll do their best to dig me out," he reasoned, "but they
have no tools, and the passageway was very small anyway. If the rocks are
wedged in, all the power they can bring to bear won't budge them."
He felt around the chamber and soon found himself at the split in the
rocks. He entered it for a distance of a few yards and then came back to
the point from which he had started.
"It would be foolish to go into that in the dark," he thought. "I might
fall into some ugly hole, or have worse luck. I'll stay here and see what
comes."
He sat down and gave himself up to his reflections. They were rather
bitter. He now realized how tired he was, and not long after this sank into
merciful slumber.
When Dave awoke all was still dark around him. How long he had slept he
could not tell, but he knew it must have been for some time, for he felt
wonderfully refreshed. Getting up, he stretched himself, and his eyes roved
around the chamber.
A single streak of light caught his eye, coming from the split he had
failed to examine. He approached the split once more and saw that the light
was stronger a short distance beyond, so strong in fact that he could see
the surface of the rocks and dirt.
"It must be morning, and that must lead to the outer world," he told
himself. "Can it be possible I have spent the whole night down here?"
The dampness had made him stiff in the joints, but to this he paid no
attention. His one thought was to reach the top of the earth again. Feeling
his way with care, he entered the split in the rocks and slowly climbed
from one projection to another. The rocks came to an end amid the roots of
a large tree, and in a few minutes more Dave was pulling himself up among
the roots and into the open air.
The glorious sunshine struck full in his face as he emerged, to find
himself on something of a sweeping hill, dotted here and there with trees
and brushwood. His heart gave a leap for joy. Inwardly he thanked God for
his safe deliverance from perils underground.
"Now to find my way back to the waterfall and let Sam and White Buffalo
know that I am safe," he told himself. "But first I had better mark this
spot, so that I can find it again."
With his hunting knife he started to make a blaze upon the tree. It was
easily done, and he turned around to make certain of the locality.
Then, like lightning from a clear sky, came an attack as sudden as it was
unexpected. Two forms leaped from behind some neighboring bushes. They were
Indians and one held a tomahawk in his hand. With the flat of this he
struck Dave a blow on the head, knocking him down.
"Don't!" gasped the young pioneer, when a second blow descended, giving him
a shock he could not withstand. He stretched out his arms, and then rolled
over on his back, senseless.
[Illustration: "'Tis one of the English," said the taller of the Indians.]
"'Tis one of the English," said the taller of the Indians, in his native
language. "We were right to set a watch here."
"And what shall be done with him?" questioned the second. "Pontiac cares
not for the scalp of a stripling."
"It shall be for Pontiac to answer," was the reply. "Bind him to yonder
tree. There may be more to come forth, like foxes from their holes."
Without ceremony Dave's limp body was dragged into a thicket and fastened
to a tree. Then the two Indians went back to renew their watch. This
continued for the best part of an hour.
At the end of that time three other Indians appeared, including
Foot-in-His-Mouth. The latter listened intently to what had happened.
"The fight is over," he said. "Two Indians are dead, and a white man and a
Delaware squaw named White Buffalo have retreated in the direction of Fort
Pitt. Let us away from here without delay, for I must report this new
happening to Pontiac."
"And the stripling, what of him?"
"Bring him along."
Dave was just returning to his senses when the Indians shook him roughly. A
scalping knife was brandished before his eyes, and he was given to
understand that he must either walk with them or suffer death.
"Where are you going to take me?" he asked, when he felt strong enough to
speak.
This question the Indians would not answer. But two of them shoved him
roughly, and he was compelled to walk to where a number of horses were in
waiting. With his hands tied behind him, and his head aching severely, he
was mounted on one of the animals, and the entire party set off northward
through the forest.
"If only Sam was here," thought the young pioneer dismally. He did not know
that a fierce hand-to-hand conflict had taken place near the waterfall, and
that Barringford and White Buffalo had barely escaped with their lives, yet
such was a fact.
The ride was a rough and hard one for Dave, and long before it came to an
end he was ready to sink into a faint from exhaustion. Every time he reeled
in the saddle one of the red men would shove him up roughly, or prick him
with the end of a scalping knife.
At last the Indians called a halt at the foot of a small cliff. They
dismounted and forced Dave to the ground, and the entire party ascended to
the top of the cliff. Here was a well-defined path, and along this they
journeyed for a short distance, coming out presently at a point where there
was a small sheet of water, fed by several brooks. On the edge of the
pond--it can scarcely be called a lake--was an Indian village containing
perhaps a hundred inhabitants. It was known as Shanorison, and here dwelt
an aged chief named Mamuliekala, looked up to by many of the red men
because he had once made a trip to Boston and to England. Mamuliekala never
ceased to tell of the wonders of the land across the ocean, but only a
handful of the red men believed all he said, contending that the English
and the rolling of the ship on the ocean had cast a spell over his mind, so
that his eyes had deceived him.
Having been brought into Shanorison, Dave was brought before one of the
under chiefs, and his captors told their tale. The talking was in a dialect
the young pioneer could not understand, and he was asked no questions. Then
one of the Indians took him by the arm and led him away.
"What are you going to do with me?" asked the youth.
"Hold white young man a prisoner," was the answer.
"What for?"
"The white young man must tell Pontiac how he came into the cave under the
waterfall."
"Did you see any other white people there?"
"Moon Head cannot answer that question," said the Indian.
In the center of the village was a small and rather dirty wigwam, and in
this Dave was placed. His hands were kept fastened behind him, and also
tied to a short post in the center of the shelter.
"If the young man attempts to escape, he will be killed like a dog," said
the Indian, on departing.
"When will Pontiac be here?" called Dave after him, but to this the red man
made no reply. He stalked away, letting the flap of the wigwam close after
him.
If Dave felt sick in body, he was doubly so in mind. The expedition to the
east had come to a sudden and unexpected termination, and what was to be
the real end of the adventure there was no telling. Certain it was that
Pontiac would be very angry when he learned that the secret he and his
followers had guarded so closely was known to the English, and Dave felt
that it might go very hard with him in consequence.
"Perhaps they'll burn me at the stake, or do something equally bad," he
thought dismally. "I must say, I wish I was out of it. I wonder if I can't
manage to escape?"