AMID THE RUINS OF FORT SANDUSKY
To discover only ruin, desolation, and death, instead of the cheery
greetings of friends and the longed-for intelligence of Edith's safety
that he had so confidently expected to gain at Sandusky, was so bitter
a disappointment as to be bewildering, and it was some time ere Donald
could do aught save wander like one who is dazed, among the melancholy
ruins. He recalled his pleasant reception by Ensign Paully, the
commanding officer, only a month before, when he had stopped there on
his way down the lake, the cheerful evening he had spent in the
mess-room, and the hopeful conversation concerning the settlement soon
to be made near the sturdy little post. Now all that remained were
great heaps of ashes and half-burned logs, gaunt chimneys, and a score
of bodies, stripped, mutilated, and decomposed beyond recognition. The
presence of these, and the fact that all of them were scalped, showed
the destruction of the post to be the work of savages and not the
voluntary act of its garrison; otherwise Donald might have hoped that
the place had been abandoned and a retreat made to some stronger
position.
Not only was the story of the tragedy plainly to be read in the mute
evidences abounding on all sides, but the young woodsman was able to
determine from the drift of ashes, the indentations of raindrops, and
other distinct signs, just how many days had elapsed since the king's
flag last waved above Sandusky. He found traces showing that Cuyler
with his fugitives had been there since the destruction of the place,
and from his own feelings he could readily imagine what theirs must
have been.
These things he learned as easily as from a printed page; but with all
his art he could gain no inkling of the information he most desired.
Were his sister and Madam Rothsay among those who had escaped with
Cuyler? In vain did he scan the prints of moccasined and booted feet,
that abounded among the ruins. None was dainty enough to be that of a
lady.
While Donald was bending over some footprints beside a small
field-piece that, dismounted and rusted, lay half buried in ashes, a
sudden whir-r-r caused him to spring back as though he had received an
electric shock. Only his quickness saved him from the living death
held in the fangs of a rattlesnake that had evidently just crawled from
the black muzzle of the gun. The snake instantly re-coiled to repeat
its venomous stroke, and though Donald could easily have killed it as
he had scores of its kind, the presence of this hideous and sole
representative of life in that place of the dead so filled him with
horror that he turned and fled to his canoe. Nor did he pause in his
flight until he had covered many miles of water, and was compelled to
do so by the faintness of hunger.
He had instinctively shaped his course to the eastward, and now reason
decided him to continue it in that direction. It was the only one that
Cuyler could have taken, and in searching for his sister the young
ensign had no other clue to follow save that afforded by the fugitives.
Coasting the shore until he discovered the mouth of a small stream,
Donald forced his canoe up this until it was effectually concealed from
the lake. Then he made a fire of dry wood that would give forth little
smoke, and cooked the noontide meal, that was for that day his
breakfast as well. Before it was finished he had decided to remain in
his present place of concealment until nightfall, in order to have the
aid of darkness in avoiding such Indians as might be travelling up or
down the coast. Having satisfied his hunger, and extinguished his
modest fire, he stationed himself at the foot of a great oak on the
shore, where he commanded a good view of the lake and was at the same
time well hidden from it. Here he reflected upon all that had
happened, wondered if Cuyler had reached Presque Isle, if so, whether
Edith and Christie had met, and tried to imagine the meeting, until at
length he fell asleep and dreamed that Presque Isle was destroyed and
that he was searching for traces of Edith in its ashes.
When he awoke, the sound of voices was in his ears, and for a moment it
seemed as though his waking was but a continuation of his dream.
Within a stone's-throw of where he lay barely hidden by a slight screen
of leaves, a fleet of canoes was moving to the eastward, the very
direction he must take if he adhered to his original plan. He counted
ten, twenty, thirty, and believed that some had already passed when he
awoke. They were filled with warriors, all armed and decked with
war-paint of vermilion and black. There were a few squaws; but no
children, no dogs, and but slight camp equipage. It was evidently a
war-party, and a strong one.
Donald lay motionless, hardly daring to breathe, and watched them out
of sight. Were they in pursuit of Cuyler and his handful of fugitives?
were they on their way to attack Christie in his little fort? or were
they in search of him to avenge his looting of the Wyandot lodges?
This last thought was dismissed as quickly as formed; for, of course,
no party of that size would be in pursuit of an individual, no matter
how important he was or what he had done. No; they must be bound for
Presque Isle, with the hope of picking up Cuyler on the way.
As the youth was in the very act of rising to go to the beach for a
parting glimpse of the fleet, a movement on the water warned him to
sink back just in time to escape the keen glances of the occupants of a
single canoe, that seemed to have been left behind and to be in haste
to overtake the main body. Besides the four Indians who paddled it,
this canoe held a fifth, seated luxuriously in an object so unusual and
startling that Donald almost uttered an exclamation at sight of it.
"It could not be!" Donald rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, it
was. There was no mistaking its shape or color.
"Bullen's tub, as I'm a sinner!" muttered the young man, under his
breath. "If that doesn't beat everything! Where did they get it?
What are they going to do with it? and what has become of its owner?
Poor old chap! He can't possibly be alive, for he would have died
rather than be parted from it. Now, though, I had better keep quiet
for awhile and see what is coming next."
Although it lacked two hours of sunset, and Donald maintained his
lonely watch until then, nothing more came in sight. He prepared
another meal to strengthen him for a night of toil, and as soon as
darkness had set in, made a start. Keeping so far out on the lake that
the shore was but a dim line, he urged the canoe forward with his
utmost strength through the solemn stillness of the long hours. He did
not venture near shore until the eastern sky was paling with
approaching dawn. Then, though he sought anxiously for some friendly
stream in which to conceal his canoe, he failed to find one before the
growing light warned him that it was no longer safe to remain on the
water. He was thus forced to land on the open beach, and with great
labor drag his craft up a steep bank to a hiding-place in the forest
beyond. After that, with infinite pain, and moving backward as his
work progressed, he carefully obliterated all traces of his landing by
sweeping them with a bunch of twigs.
While certain that he must have passed the Indian fleet during the
night, and that it would in turn pass him before the day was ended, he
was compelled by utter weariness to sleep, which he did in a dense
thicket at some distance from where he had hidden the canoe. When he
awoke, it was so late in the day that he feared the savages had gone
by, but after a while he again heard their voices, and peering from his
covert again saw the entire fleet sweep past. This time he counted its
occupants as well as he could, and discovered that the war-party
numbered something over two hundred members. On this occasion the
canoe containing the paymaster's tub was in the foremost rank, and
there were no stragglers.
It was a great relief to the anxious watcher to catch this glimpse of
the enemy and thus gain an approximate knowledge of their whereabouts,
and after they had disappeared he felt at liberty to attend to his own
wants by cooking a supply of provisions for future use.
For two more nights and days was this strange and perilous journey
continued, until at daylight of the third day Donald felt that he must
be within a few miles of Presque Isle. The most critical moment of his
undertaking had now arrived. In spite of the rising sun he must push
on, for he was determined to reach the fort if possible before the
Indians, and warn Christie of their coming. At the same time he
realized that, as they had been able to travel much faster than he in
his big canoe, he could not be much if any past their camp of the night
just ended. Nor did he dare keep far out in the lake, for fear lest
they cut him off from the shore and so hold him at their mercy.
Wearied with his night's work, compelled to keep on, not daring to
land, and expecting each moment to hear the exulting yell or crack of a
rifle that should announce his discovery, Donald was thus obliged to
paddle doggedly forward within a hundred yards of the shore. His
suspense was well-nigh unbearable. Every nerve was strung to its
utmost tension. In each new indentation of the coast he expected to
see the waiting fleet of canoes, and with each fearful backward glance
he wondered at not finding them in pursuit.
At length, as he rounded a point, he thought he saw far down the lake,
against the blue of the sky and above the sombre forest, a flutter of
red. At the same moment be glanced behind him to see if he were still
free from pursuit. Alas! He was not. Two canoes, each urged by half
a dozen gleaming paddles, were following as swiftly and silently as
sharks that had scented blood, and they were not a quarter of a mile
away. As their occupants noted that they were discovered they uttered
yells of exultation that chilled the poor lad's blood in his veins and
caused him to feel faint with a despairing terror.