Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: Donald is unexpectedly saved from a terrible death.]
AT WAR WITH PONTIAC
or
THE TOTEM OF THE BEAR
_A TALE OF REDCOAT AND REDSKIN_
by
KIRK MUNROE
AUTHOR OF "THE WHITE CONQUERORS," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY J. FINNEMORE
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1922
COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. TAWTRY HOUSE
II. THE MAJOR GAINS A FRIEND AND MAKES AN ENEMY
III. TRUMAN FLAGG'S STORY
IV. ESCAPE OF THE PRISONERS
V. A BABY LOST AND RECOVERED
VI. THE WILDERNESS
VII. THE MAJOR RE-ENTERS ACTIVE SERVICE
VIII. DONALD SETS FORTH ON A PERILOUS MISSION
IX. ST. AUBIN'S STARTLING INFORMATION
X. PONTIAC DECLARES WAR
XI. MAJOR HESTER IS TAKEN PRISONER
XII. DONALD AT JOHNSON CASTLE
XIII. PAYMASTER BULLEN AND HIS WONDERFUL TUB
XIV. A WHITE MEDICINE MAN
XV. DONALD AND CHRISTIE CEMENT A FRIENDSHIP
XVI. QUICKEYE AND THE "ZEBRA"
XVII. A BRAVE GIRL CAPTIVE
XVIII. SURPRISE AND DESTRUCTION OF THE BOAT BRIGADE
XIX. THE TOTEM SAVES DONALD'S LIFE
XX. BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT AT FORT DETROIT
XXI. IN SEARCH OF A LOST SISTER
XXII. AMID THE RUINS OF FORT SANDUSKY
XXIII. DISCOVERED AND PURSUED BY SAVAGES
XXIV. CHRISTIE'S BRAVE DEFENCE OF HIS POST
XXV. DONALD FIRES THE MINE AND SAVES THE BLOCKHOUSE
XXVI. FRIENDS IN CAPTIVITY
XXVII. HOW THE PAYMASTER NAVIGATED LAKE ERIE IN A TUB
XXVIII. THE PAYMASTER IN WAR-PAINT AND FEATHERS
XXIX. DONALD AND THE PAYMASTER ESCAPE
XXX. IMMINENT DANGER OF THE SCHOONER GLADWYN
XXXI. PONTIAC RECOGNIZES THE TOTEM
XXXII. LAST CRUISE OF THE PAYMASTER'S TUB
XXXIII. FORT DETROIT IS REINFORCED
XXXIV. AH-MO, THE DAUGHTER OF PONTIAC
XXXV. A NIGHT OF FIGHTING AND TERROR
XXXVI. BRAVE DEATH OF THE OLD MAJOR
XXXVII. THE CURSE OF THE MAGIC CIRCLE
XXXVIII. A WINTER IN THE WILDERNESS
XXXIX. AN ADOPTED DAUGHTER OF THE FOREST
XL. THE PRINCESS ANSWERS DONALD'S QUESTION
ILLUSTRATIONS
DONALD IS UNEXPECTEDLY SAVED FROM A TERRIBLE
DEATH . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
"THESE TWO PADDLED THEIR WAY AGAINST THE SWIFT CURRENT
OF THE MOHAWK"
DONALD AND HIS TWO COMPANIONS ARE PURSUED BY INDIANS
PONTIAC DISCOVERS THAT DONALD IS TATTOOED WITH THE MAGIC CIRCLE
AT WAR WITH PONTIAC
OR
THE TOTEM OF THE BEAR
_A TALE OF REDCOAT AND REDSKIN_
CHAPTER I
TAWTRY HOUSE
A glorious midsummer day was drawing to a close; its heat had passed;
the tall forest trees, whose leaves were pleasantly rustled by the cool
breeze of approaching night, flung a bridge of tremulous shadows across
the surface of Loch Meg, and all nature was at peace. The tiny lake,
though bearing an old-world name, was of the new world, and was one of
the myriad forest gems that decked the wilderness of western New York a
century and a half ago. It was embraced in a patent recently granted
by the English king to his well-approved servant Graham Hester, whose
bravery and wounds had won for him an honorable retirement, with the
rank of major in a Highland regiment, ere he was forty years of age.
Being thus provided with an ample estate, Major Hester, with his young
wife and half a dozen trusty followers, left the old world for the new,
and plunged into its wilderness. Though somewhat dismayed to find his
property located a score of leagues beyond that of his nearest white
neighbor, the major was at the same time gratified to discover in that
neighbor his old friend and comrade, William Johnson, through whose
diplomacy the powerful Iroquois tribes of the Six Nations were allied
to the English and kept at peace.
On a crest of land overlooking and sloping gently down to the blue
lakelet which Major Hester had named in honor of his wife, he erected a
substantial blockhouse of squared timbers. Behind it were ranged a
number of log outbuildings about three sides of a square, in the centre
of which was dug a deep well. Having thus in a time of peace prepared
for war, the proprietor began the improvement of his estate with such
success that, within three years from the felling of the first tree,
several acres of gloomy forest were replaced by smiling fields. A
young orchard was in sturdy growth, a small herd of cattle found ample
pasturage on the borders of the lake, and on all sides were evidences
of thrift and plenty.
The military instinct of the proprietor caused all forest growth to be
cleared from a broad space entirely around the rude fortress that held
his life's treasures; but within the enclosure he left standing two
superb oaks. These not only afforded a grateful shade, but gave a
distinctive feature to the place that was quickly recognized by the
surrounding Indians. Thus they always spoke of it as the house of the
two trees, or two-tree house, a name that soon became "Tawtry House,"
under which designation it was known from the unsalted seas to the tide
waters of the distant Shattemuc.
Tawtry House not only offered a ready welcome and bountiful hospitality
to the occasional hunter, trader, or traveller tempted by business or
curiosity into that wild region, but to the Indians who still roamed
the forest at will and had established one of their villages at no
great distance from it. With these, by the exercise of extreme
firmness and an inflexible honesty, Major Hester succeeded in
maintaining friendly relations, in spite of their jealousy of his
presence among them. At the same time, his wife, through her
gentleness and ready sympathy in their times of sickness or distress,
gained their deep-seated affection.
Although the Iroquois were thus at peace with their English neighbors,
there was a bitter enmity between them and the French settlers of
Canada, who had espoused the cause of their hereditary foes, the tribes
dwelling along the St. Lawrence and on both shores of the great
fresh-water lakes. Most prominent of these were the Ottawas, Hurons or
Wyandots, Ojibwas and Pottawattamies, who were allied in a defensive
league against their powerful enemies. Their ancient hatred of the
Iroquois, animated by the traditions of generations, was ever fanned
into a blaze by Jesuit priests eager for the triumph of their faith,
French traders anxious to monopolize the immensely profitable fur
business of the new world, and French soldiers determined at any cost
to extend the empire of their king. Thus, on one pretext or another,
war parties were constantly coming and going, destroying or being
destroyed, and it well behooved the adventurous frontier settler to
intrench himself strongly behind massive timbers and stout palisades.
Under these conditions and amid such scenes, in the year 1743, when
Tawtry House was still sweet-scented with odors of the forest from
which it had been so recently hewn, was born Donald Hester, as sturdy a
young American as ever kicked in swaddling clothes, and the hero of
this tale of the forest.
On the midsummer evening with which our story opens, Major Hester and
his wife walked, hand in hand, beyond the palisades of their fortress
home, enjoying the marvellous beauty of their surroundings and talking
of many things. Already had this wilderness home become very dear to
them; for, representing years of toil and privation as it did, it was
their very own and the heritage of their boy, now two years of age, who
toddled behind them in charge of a ruddy-cheeked Scotch nurse. While
they rejoiced over what had been accomplished, they planned for the
future, and discussed the details of many projected improvements. At
the outlet of the lake a grist-mill should be built, and the low lands
beyond should be drained to afford increased pasturage for their
multiplying herd.
As they talked there came a sound from the forest depths that caused
them to pause and listen. Borne faintly on the evening breeze, was a
distant firing of guns, and they fancied that it was accompanied by a
confusion of yells from human throats.
"Oh, Graham! what can it mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Hester, as she clasped
her husband's arm and glanced instinctively back, to make sure of the
safety of her child.
"Nothing that need alarm you, my dear," answered the major,
reassuringly. "It is only a token of some jollification among our
Indian friends: a war dance, or a scalp dance, or the advent among them
of a new lot of wretched captives, or something of that kind. I
remember Truman mentioning, more than a week ago, that another war
party had gone out. I do wish though that the Senecas would take it
into their heads to move their village farther away. I used to think
five miles quite a respectable distance, but now--"
"I would that this horrible fighting were ended," interrupted Mrs.
Hester. "Will not the time ever come, Graham, when these poor heathen
will cease from their dreadful wars, and live at peace with each other,
like civilized beings?"
"Like civilized beings, my dear?" laughed Major Hester. "Yes, I think
I may safely prophesy that if the time ever comes when those nations
which we call civilized give over fighting, then even the red Indians
may be persuaded to follow their example. As for their methods of
warfare, they are but the counterparts of those practised by our own
savage ancestors a few centuries ago; while in their torture of
captives they are only reproducing the acts of civilized Romans,
mediaeval knights, and the Holy Inquisition. It is not long since,
even in England, Elizabeth Gaunt was burned to death at Tyburn for
yielding to the dictates of compassion and giving shelter to a
political offender; nor are the cries for mercy of the martyrs tortured
at Smithfield stakes yet forgotten. The torture of New England witches
is recent history, while the dismal record of devilish tortures
inflicted by white men upon Indian captives is unbroken from the days
of Columbus. Did not Frontenac cause an Iroquois warrior to be burned
alive in order to terrorize his fellows? Did not--"
The honest major was so warmed to his subject that he might have
discoursed upon it indefinitely, had he not been startlingly
interrupted. He and his wife were retracing their steps toward the
house, and, as before, the Scotch maid, with her toddling charge, was
some paces behind them. At a wild scream from the girl those in
advance turned in time to see the flying form of a young Indian, who
had just emerged from the near-by forest, fall headlong at her feet.
His naked body was pierced by wounds, and his strength was evidently
exhausted. As he fell, a second Indian, in whose right hand gleamed a
deadly tomahawk, leaped from the woodland shadows, and, with a yell of
triumph, bounded toward his intended victim. He was closely followed
by two others.
As the Scotch girl stood motionless with terror, little Donald,
evidently believing this to be some new form of game provided for his
especial edification, ran forward with a gurgle of delight, stumbled,
and fell directly across the head of the prostrate Indian. But for the
child's sudden movement the keen-bladed hatchet in the hand of the
foremost pursuer, already drawn back for the deadly throw, would have
sped on its fatal mission.
With a cry of anguish Mrs. Hester sprang toward her baby; but quicker
than she, with a leap like that of a panther, Major Hester gained the
spot first, snatched up his child, and, over the body of the young
Indian, sternly confronted his scowling pursuers.