THE FLIGHT TO THE RIVER
“Henry!”
“Dave! How did you manage——”
“Hush! Don’t make any noise, or the Indians may hear you. Stand still
until I untie the ropes. They took my knife away from me.”
No more was said just then. Henry’s heart gave a great bound of joy.
Dave was alive and well, after all. The discovery was almost too good to
be true.
With dextrous fingers Dave undid the rawhide which held his cousin a
prisoner. Henry was so stiff that he staggered, and Dave had to support
him for the moment.
“Come with me to the river—we can take to the canoe,” whispered Dave
into his cousin’s ear. He was fearful that one of the Indians might
awaken at any moment and stop their flight.
“All right, Dave, but——” Henry hesitated, and tried to look through the
darkness and the rain. “Are you armed?”
“No.”
“Neither am I—they took everything I had. We ought to try to get at
least one rifle and a knife.”
“Yes, but the risk?”
“Is the canoe ready for use?”
“Yes,—all we have to do is to jump in and shove off.”
“Then keep still until I take a look around. At the first sign of an
alarm make for the canoe as tight as you can.”
Henry’s wrenched ankle still pained him, but in the excitement of the
occasion he paid no attention to the injury. With the wiliness of the
red warriors he was trying to outwit, he crawled forward in the darkness
until he was close to one of the wigwams. This he knew held several
Indians and also his own weapons and those belonging to Dave.
With bated breath the young hunter raised the dirty flap to the wigwam
and tried to pierce the darkness inside. He could see next to nothing.
He crawled in a little further, and his hand came in contact with an
Indian’s foot. He felt further, and touched the barrel of a gun. He
raised the weapon and drew it towards him. One of the red men gave a
deep sigh and a grunt, but did not awaken.
Encouraged by his success so far, Henry crawled forward again and this
time obtained the second rifle, the powder horns, and also one of the
hunting knives. His eyes were now becoming accustomed to the darkness,
and finding a tomahawk he took that too, and then a bow and a quiver
full of arrows.
At that instant one of the Indians turned over, muttering in his sleep.
Fearful that he was awakening, the young hunter made a hasty move toward
the wigwam opening. He stepped on the foot of a sleeping warrior, and
the red man sat up with a start and called out in his native tongue,
demanding to know what was the matter. Then, as he saw Henry dart from
the shelter, he gave a war-cry that alarmed the entire camp.
“Lead the way to the canoe, Dave!” cried Henry. “And here, take one of
these rifles. If they press us too closely, fire!”
Dave took the weapon handed to him, and side by side they rushed toward
the river. Hardly had they gained the shelter of the forest when the red
warriors were in full pursuit. One caught up a dying brand from the
fire, and swinging it in a circle soon had it burning brightly for a
torch.
Fortunately for the two young hunters, Dave had noted the trail to the
river with care, so that he did not get mixed up, even though it was
dark and misty. But Henry could not run very fast on account of his lame
ankle.
“I’m glad we are to—to go by way of the—the river,” he gasped. “I—I
can’t run much further!”
The Indians were yelling wildly, and one of them let fly an arrow which
whizzed through the bushes at their side. Dave caught his cousin by the
arm, to aid him, and an instant later another arrow flew directly
between their heads.
“They must see us, Henry. Come, can’t you run just a bit faster?”
“I’ll—I’ll try,” gasped Henry, and gritted his teeth, so great was the
pain in his ankle.
The forest now came to an end, but luckily for the youths the river was
bordered with thick brushwood. Into this they dove, and in half a minute
more reached the point where Dave had left the canoe in readiness for
immediate flight.
“It’s gone!” cried the young hunter, in dismay.
“The canoe?” queried his cousin.
“Yes, I left it right here.”
“Then we are lost!”
Sick at heart, they caught each other by the arm and listened. The
Indians were close at hand. What was to be done?
“Let us try to trick them!” whispered Dave, and caught up a stone that
was handy. He threw it into the water with a splash, and then threw
another stone after it. This accomplished, he drew Henry into the
bushes, and both made their way down the shore for a good hundred feet,
walking in shallow water to conceal the trail.
The mist over the water was thicker than in the forest, and when the
Indians came out on the shore they could see little or nothing, even
though they swung the torch in all directions.
“They leaped into the water,—I heard them,” said one warrior, in the
Indian language.
“I heard them too,” answered another. “They must be swimming for the
other side.”
“We’ll get into the canoe and look around,” put in a third.
They ran to where the long canoe had been left, and then uttered cries
of anger at finding the craft missing.
“They have taken the canoe!”
“If that is so we cannot catch them—the mist will hide them from view.”
“Moon Eye will be angry when he finds his best canoe gone,” grumbled the
Indian who could speak English. “And my bow is gone too!”
The Indians continued to walk up and down the river bank, looking for
some trace of the two whites. They could not imagine who had come to
Henry’s rescue, but thought it must be somebody from Fort Pitt, and were
much disturbed, thinking that some English soldiers might be in that
vicinity.
Meanwhile Dave and Henry remained hidden in the bushes, close to the
water’s edge. They caught an occasional flash from the torch, but
otherwise saw nothing of their enemies. The cooling water seemed to
soothe Henry’s ankle greatly, for which the young hunter was grateful.
“Let us go on a little further,” whispered Henry, after a short rest,
and while the Indians were out of sight and hearing. “The further we get
away, the better.”
Dave was more than willing, and they moved through the shallow water
until they reached a bend in the river. Then both gave a cry of
satisfaction:
“The canoe!”
“It must have drifted to this spot,” said Dave. “See, the paddles are
just as I left them. But I thought the canoe was fast.”
“Get in and be quick about it,” returned his cousin.
They entered the craft and shoved out into the stream. The rain had
ceased, but the mist was so thick they could scarcely see two yards in
any direction. Catching up the paddles, they guided the canoe down the
watercourse as best they could. At first they caught a faint glimpse of
the Indians’ torch, but this was quickly swallowed up by the mist and
darkness.
“I reckon we are out of it,” said Dave, after quarter of an hour had
passed. “And I am glad of it.” He heaved a long sigh of relief.
“You are not half as glad as I am,” answered his cousin. “I felt pretty
blue when they had me tied to the tree, I can tell you! How ever did you
locate me?”
“It’s a long story,” answered Dave, and then told of his meeting with
the Indian who could speak English, and of what had happened afterward.
“We can certainly count ourselves more than lucky,” said Henry. “In nine
cases out of ten those redskins would have killed us on the spot, and
scalped us in the bargain. They are terribly bitter because Pontiac’s
last conspiracy failed.”
“I think I know why they let you live, Henry. They wanted to learn how
matters stood at the fort. They’d make you tell everything, even if they
had to torture you into doing it.”
“I reckon you are right on that point.”
Feeling themselves safe for the time being, the two young hunters
stopped paddling and tried to gaze around them. Nothing could be seen
but the mist and water, the latter rushing along with increased
swiftness.
“Did they have another canoe?” asked Henry, presently.
“I couldn’t find any, and I looked pretty carefully.”
“In that case, they won’t be able to follow us very readily.”
“They won’t know where to look for us, in this darkness, Henry. The
question is, where are we going? I know nothing of this river, do you?”
“I do not, but I imagine it flows into the Allegheny or the Ohio.”
“If it will take us to the fort, that is just where we want to go.”
They talked the matter over, and decided to keep on the river at least
for a few miles further. Then they would go ashore, make themselves as
comfortable as possible, and wait for daylight to appear.
“If the sun comes out we can climb a tall tree and get the lay of the
land,” said Dave. “Or, I can climb it alone, since your ankle is hurt.
How does it feel now?”
“No worse,” answered his cousin. “I think if I can keep off it for a few
hours it will be all right again. But it was a pretty bad twist.”
“Do you notice that the river seems to be growing narrower?” said Dave,
after a short spell of silence.
“I have been wondering if we are not on some branch,” was the reply.
“Anyway, it is flowing much swifter than before.”
“Maybe we had better turn into shore now.”
“I think so myself. We don’t want to run into anything.”
They started to turn the canoe around. To their surprise the water began
to boil and foam on all sides of them. Then came a grating sound from
the bottom.
“We just ran over a rock!” cried Dave. “Henry, this is getting
dangerous!”
“I think so myself, Dave. Come, we will make for the shore over yonder.
Perhaps—— Oh!”
Henry’s remarks came to a sudden ending, as the canoe swept swiftly
under the low-hanging branch of a big tree. The young hunter was
standing up at the time, and he was carried overboard in a flash, paddle
in hand. Then the canoe struck a rock, slid up along some tree-roots,
and began to fill with water!