ANOTHER LONG JOURNEY
For several hours Peaceful Jones lay in a stupor of pain and exhaustion.
He was given the best medical attention the fort afforded, and at last
dropped into a deep sleep, from which he did not awaken until the next
day. He was then still weak, but able to tell his story in detail.
Much of it we already know. After leaving the vicinity of the cedar with
his bear meat over his shoulder he had wandered around in the woods and
gotten lost. Then he had been snowed in for over a week, and at the end
of that period had been taken down with a fever, and had come out of it
to find himself in an Indian camp and under the care of a medicine man
for whom he had once done a favor. The medicine man told him that some
other Indians wished to kill him, and at the first opportunity the
trapper had fled from the Indian village and started again for Fort
Pitt. He had fallen over some rocks into a hollow while on the last
three miles of his journey and was so weak that he could hardly stand
when discovered by his friends.
“But are you certain the others were all killed—that my father was
killed?” asked Dave.
“He must be dead, Dave—although I didn’t see him go down. I was outside
of the tradin’ post. But I heard a Frenchman and an Indian speak about
it. They were more than anxious to kill me too.”
“Oh, I cannot believe that father is dead!” burst out the youth, and had
to turn away to hide his tears.
Henry did what he could to comfort his cousin, but was himself much
downcast. That evening the pair talked the matter over for several
hours, but the discussion did not appear to help the situation.
“I wish we could get Colonel Bouquet or Captain Ecuyer to march against
Jean Bevoir,” said Dave. “That Frenchman and his associates ought to be
shot down or hanged.”
“I don’t think either the colonel or the captain will want to go out
during the winter,” answered Henry, which was a correct conclusion. The
season was proving so severe that the idea of sending a body of soldiers
on a trail that was then but little known was out of the question, in
the opinion of both the colonel and the commandant of the fort. Both
said nothing could be done until spring.
“I don’t believe they will ever send the soldiers out there,” said Dave
to Henry, with much bitterness in his tone. “They think they have their
hands full taking care of matters as far west as this fort.”
“Well, we can’t exactly blame them, Dave. They have had some hard times
here, during the past few years.”
“But do you want to stay here and let Bevoir and his crowd escape
punishment?”
“I certainly do not. But what can we do? It would be foolhardy for us to
dream of going out there alone.”
“We might go home and organize a party from there. I think your father
would help us.”
“That is a roundabout way of getting at it,” answered Henry,
thoughtfully. “But it could be done.”
“I can’t bear to think of staying here and doing nothing,” resumed Dave.
“Why, every day would seem like a month! I must know the truth, and I
must do something to bring Jean Bevoir and those other rascals to
justice.”
With Dave, to think was to act, and by the next day he had made up his
mind fully. He would return to Will’s Creek, tell his Uncle Joe and the
others all, and get them to aid him in organizing an expedition to move
against Jean Bevoir and his evil associates.
The commandant of the fort was much surprised at the youth’s
determination and secretly admired his pluck. Yet he shrugged his
shoulders over the wisdom of the plan.
“’Tis a long journey to the east and ’twill be a longer journey to the
west,” he said. “However, have your own way, and I will aid you as much
as I can.”
It was arranged that two frontiersmen named Lawson and Devine should
accompany Dave and Henry on their journey eastward. The four were to go
on foot, taking along snowshoes, and each was to carry a knapsack well
filled with rations. They were to move along as quickly as possible,
only stopping to shoot game when it was absolutely necessary.
Lawson and Devine were fairly well known to the youths. Each had been
over the trail a number of times, and each was stout and strong and well
able to resist the hardships of the trip. All went over their outfits
with care, and did not carry anything more than seemed absolutely
necessary.
The start was made from Fort Pitt on a bright clear day in the middle of
December. A few of the soldiers went out to see them off, and to the
first bend in the trail. Then they turned back, and the party of four
was left to confront whatever lay before it.
“I do not think we shall meet any Indians,” said Henry. “They do not
fancy moving around in such nipping weather as this.”
“Keep your eyes open, is what I say,” answered Lawson, who was striding
along in advance. “An Injun ain’t going to announce his coming with
bells and a horn.”
For the first few miles of the journey but little was spoken, the
frontiersmen being of a silent turn of mind and Dave and Henry being
busy with their thoughts. They were following the old Braddock road,
thinking they might make better progress on this through the heavy snows
than on the General Forbes route.
“I am afraid, if we push ourselves too much the first day, we’ll be
rather stiff the second,” remarked Henry, as they stopped for a minute
on a rise of ground to get their breath.
“Oh, I want to make as many miles as I possibly can,” answered Dave
impatiently.
“I agree with Henry,” said Devine. “We’ll have to take it a bit easier.
We’ll gain by it in the end, mark my words.”
That night they encamped in a snug spot among the rocks. Plenty of
firewood was handy, and they built up a roaring blaze. On the way Henry
had seen a bunch of rabbits and had not resisted the temptation to take
a shot. He had secured three, and these were cooked to a turn and eaten,
after which they turned in without delay, each taking his turn at
standing guard and keeping up the fire.
The next day was largely a repetition of the first, and the third day
was on the same order, although Lawson saw a deer and shot at it,
breaking its leg. Dave gave the game a finishing bullet, and they took
the meat to their next camping spot. There the deer was cut up, and each
was given a good-sized piece to carry along.
“That ought to last us several days,” said Lawson. “So we won’t have to
waste time or powder on more stuff for the larder.”
The next day, about noon, came an alarm. Turning a bend of the trail
they came in sight of fully a score of Indians, all on snowshoes and
journeying in the direction of Fort Pitt.
“Out of sight!” warned Lawson, and leaped behind some bushes, followed
by his companions.
“I think they saw us first,” said Henry. “And if so, it will do us small
good to hide.”
He had hardly spoken when a shrill whistle filled the air, followed by a
cry that was well known to Dave and Henry. At once both boys ran out
into the road.
“White Buffalo!” cried Dave, and moved onward to greet the aged chief.
“Where goes my young friend?” questioned White Buffalo.
“I am going home,” answered Dave, and then told of what had happened at
the trading post. White Buffalo was much concerned.
“’Tis sad news indeed,” said he. “And comes at a time when White
Buffalo’s heart was filled with gladness.”
“What has happened to make you glad?” asked Henry.
“My tribe is at peace once more. Henceforth all of our warriors will be
friendly to the English. And they have made me the chief of all my
people.”
“I am glad of that, for your sake!” cried Dave. “And you deserve this,
White Buffalo, for you are the very best Indian I know.”
“White Buffalo wishes he could aid his friend Dave,” said the Indian.
“But now he must journey to the home of the Delawares, to prepare for
the great ceremonial. But when he is at liberty he will follow Dave, and
bring with him some of his best braves.”
“I’ll be glad of that, White Buffalo.”
“If Bevoir and his curs have slain Dave’s father and his friends they
must suffer for it,” went on the aged chief. “And the trading post
belongs to Dave and his people,” he added, firmly. “Neither the French
nor the red men can have it.”
A talk lasting an hour followed, and White Buffalo said again that
sooner or later he would aid Dave. How he kept his word we shall see in
a later chapter.
The Indians went on their way, and once again Dave and the others turned
their faces eastward. Nothing more happened to alarm them, and thus they
went on for two days more.
“We’ll soon be there,” said Dave. “We ought to strike one of the
settlements in a day or two.” They had certainly pushed ahead with
rapidity, as their strained and tired legs testified.
That night they encamped among some trees, and in the morning found
everything covered with snow. The snow was still coming down steadily.
“We are not going to do so well to-day,” said Henry. “We must take care,
or we’ll get off the trail.”
“Trust me to keep to the trail,” said Lawson. “I know the ground too
well to get lost.”
It was indeed hard to go on, and by noon they were glad enough to stop
for a long rest. The wind was biting cold and the temperature was going
down rapidly.
“Unless I miss my guess we’re going to have an awful night,” remarked
Devine. “The best thing we can do is to find some good shelter before it
gets too dark.”
They pushed on from two o’clock to four. By that time the leaden sky was
growing dark, and they looked around for the best shelter obtainable. At
last they chose a spot where there were some rocks and thickly set
trees.
“This isn’t as good as it might be, but it’s the best around here, I
reckon,” said Lawson.
They scraped away the snow and built a fire, and then heaped up some
brushwood as a shelter from the wind. But it kept growing colder and
colder, until they were glad enough to huddle close to the blaze with
their coats buttoned closely around them.
“This is going to be a banner night,” said Henry, and his words proved
correct, so far as the cold was concerned. The temperature dropped
steadily until two o’clock in the morning, when Dave felt as if he was
“breathing icicles” as he expressed it. It was so cold that nobody could
sleep, and they spent the time in hugging the fire and in drinking hot
coffee. The two men had a bottle of liquor, of which they consumed not a
little. The liquor was offered to the two youths, but each declined.
“I think we are better off without it,” said Dave, and Henry said the
same.