DISCOVERED AND PURSUED BY SAVAGES
It was only for a moment that Donald was overcome by the chill despair
that, in presence of an imminent and overwhelming danger, often
paralyzes the most resolute. Then it passed as suddenly as it had
come. The hot blood surged through his veins, his heart was filled
with a fierce joy at the prospect of contest, and, under the vigorous
impulse of his stout young arms, the canoe bounded forward as though it
were animate and shared his feelings. Perhaps it was all owing to the
fact that, having rounded the point, the pursuing savages were
momentarily lost to view, and their yells no longer rang in his ears.
At any rate, the sudden terror was conquered, as it always is by brave
men, though with cowards it stays to the end.
Donald headed straight for the beach, gained it, hastily dragged his
canoe behind some bushes, and, seizing only his rifle, plunged into the
forest. He reflected that it must be some minutes before his pursuers
could strike his trail; and, with that advantage of time, he surely
ought to reach the fort in advance of them. So, while he ran at a
great speed, he still saved his strength, and by no means did his best.
This he reserved for a later emergency.
He had hardly got under way when the spiteful crack of a rifle rang out
from the forest directly in front of him. Almost at the same instant
he threw up his arms, staggered forward, and fell. As he did so, a
painted savage leaped from behind a tree and raised a hand to his mouth
to produce the quavering of a triumphant war-whoop. With its first
shrill note a second rifle uttered its deadly summons; the exulting
Indian leaped high, and fell, pierced by Donald's bullet. Then the
latter arose, hastily reloaded, and, with only a contemptuous glance at
the dead foe who had been so easily beguiled, sped on his way. There
might be other Indians in his path; but if they were all as simple as
that fellow, he should not mind them.
The young woodsman had not been harmed nor even grazed by his
adversary's bullet, and unexpected as it was, he had been quick-witted
enough to put into practice one of Truman Flagg's long-ago lessons.
Often, when he was a child, playing in the edge of the woods near
Tawtry House, had he flung up his little arms and dropped in that very
manner, at the sound of an unexpected shot, fired into the air, from
the old scout's rifle. Thus, though he had never before been obliged
to resort to it for self-preservation, the action now came to him as
naturally as breathing.
Now, as he sped forward, his pace was accelerated by a series of yells
that announced the landing, and discovery of his trail by the pursuers
whom he had first seen. Then, though an unbroken silence reigned in
the pleasant forest glades, he knew that swift runners were on his
track and that the time had come for his utmost exertions.
Mile after mile he ran until he had covered a goodly number before his
strength began to fail. At length he was panting so that each hissing
breath was a stab, and his eyesight grew dim. He plunged, almost
headlong, down the precipitous side of a ravine and at its bottom,
fell, face downward, into the cool waters of a rippling brook. How
deliciously refreshing were the two or three great gulps that he
swallowed. How the life-giving fluid thrilled his whole frame! If he
could only lie there as long as he chose and drink his fill! But he
could not; two magic words rang like bells in his ears, "Edith" and
"Christie." For his own life alone he would hardly have prolonged this
terrible race with death; but for theirs he must run while he had
strength to stand. So, almost as he fell, he was again on his feet and
scrambling up the steep opposite side of the ravine.
As he gained its crest, a rattling sound caused him to look back--the
foremost of his pursuers was leaping down the farther side. How fresh
and powerful he looked--within two minutes he would overtake him.
Would he? Edith and Christie! The crack of a rifle, the hiss of a
bullet, and the powerful Indian lay quietly beside the little stream as
though resting after his long run. Donald had no time for reloading,
and flinging away his gun, he again sprang forward.
There was a ringing in his ears; but through it he heard the howls of
rage that announced the discovery of the silent one lying by the little
stream, and knew that a desire for vengeance would add swiftness to the
feet of his pursuers. His own seemed weighted with lead, and he felt
that he was crawling; but though he could not realize it he was still
running splendidly, and with almost undiminished speed.
As he leaped, crashing through the underbrush, he was mistaken for a
deer, and only the quick eye of a hunter who was already raising his
rifle for a shot saved him from death at the hands of those whom he
would warn of their peril.
"Halt! who comes?" rang out in crisp tones from him who still presented
his rifle hesitatingly, as he detected the Indian costume of the
advancing runner.
"Friend! The enemy! Oh, Christie!" gasped the fugitive as he
staggered into the arms of the young commandant at Fort Presque Isle.
"By Heavens! It is Donald Hester," he cried in terror, "and I came
near shooting him for a deer! Thank God! Thank God that my hand was
stayed! Why, lad, what is it? You are near dead with running; what
danger threatens?"
"Fly, Christie, fly," panted Donald. "The savages are in hot pursuit."
"And leave you, lad? Not while I have breath in my body and a rifle in
my hand. Rest a minute and recover your breath while we welcome those
who follow you so hotly. Martin, get behind yon tree while I hold this
one. Take you the first redskin who appears, and I will deal with the
second. That will at least serve to check them while we can reload.
Steady! here they come."
It was fortunate indeed for Donald that his friend, seized with a
longing for fresh venison, had chosen that morning for a hunt, and,
taking a man with him, had entered the forest. They were not yet a
half-mile from the fort when they met the exhausted fugitive as
described. Now their rifles blazed at other game than deer, and, as
Christie had predicted, the pursuit was checked; for only two had
followed thus far, though within a mile scores of others were ranging
the forest.
The two men instantly reloaded and, without exposing themselves beyond
the sheltering tree trunks, waited a full minute without detecting
further movement or sound. Then Donald begged them to retreat while
there was yet time, and the three set forth for the fort.
As they ran, each of the others passed an arm through one of Donald's,
and the woods being open, they were able thus to make good speed. Even
as they went, Donald could not repress the one eager inquiry that, in
spite of all distractions, was ever uppermost in his thoughts.
[Illustration: Donald and his two companions are pursued by Indians.]
"Edith. Is she safe, Christie?"
"My poor fellow, I know nothing concerning her. I hoped you had news."
"Has Cuyler reached the tort?"
"Yes; and left two days since for Niagara."
"And Edith was not with him?"
"No."
"He knew nothing of her fate?"
"Nothing."
Donald said no more; but his form as supported by the two men became
noticeably heavier, as though it had been suddenly deprived of some
upbearing and stimulating force.
As the three dashed into the little post, which was only garrisoned by
a score of troops, they were none too soon; for, almost at the same
moment, a rattling volley and fierce yelling gave notice that the siege
of Presque Isle was begun. But the garrison was not taken by surprise,
for the shots from the forest had been heard, and half a dozen soldiers
had run out to protect the retreat of the fugitives.
Christie's first attention was given to the friend whose coming had not
only placed the garrison on guard, but had saved him from being cut
off, as he certainly would have been had not his hunting been
interrupted. So he led Donald to his own quarters, showed him where to
find food and drink, and then left him to recover his strength.
The so-called fort of Presque Isle was but a collection of a dozen low
wooden buildings ranged about a parade ground, in which was the single
well of the place. It was unprotected by palisades or walls of any
kind; but was provided with a citadel in shape of a stout blockhouse
that stood at one angle of the fort and was separated by a few yards of
open space from the quarters of the commanding officer.
The location of the post was unfortunate, from a military point of
view, in that it occupied a small, open flat, commanded on one side by
the beach ridge of the lake, and on another by the equally high bank of
a stream that entered the lake at a right angle.
The first fire of the enemy, who had fully expected to surprise the
place and effect its capture as a mere incident in their pursuit of
Cuyler, was delivered from the beach ridge and was harmless. A few
minutes later, however, there came a scathing cross-fire from the high
creek-bank on the other side. By this, one man who was crossing the
parade was killed and several were wounded. A little later tongues of
flame appeared on the bark-covered roof of a building, and it was
evident that no place of safety existed outside the blockhouse. To
this, then, Christie ordered the immediate retreat of his entire force.
Already were the rifles of several picked marksmen blazing from the
upper story of this stronghold, and the rest of the garrison, by
running close along the sheltering walls of the other buildings, gained
in safety the protection of its stout logs.
"Sorry not to give you a little longer breathing spell, old man," said
Ensign Christie to Donald, as he entered his own quarters for the last
time; "but those chaps out there are so inconsiderate in their shooting
that it has become necessary for us to move. So if you will just step
over to the castle, we will try to entertain you there, and can at
least promise you plenty of occupation."
"All right," replied Donald, "I'm ready, and nearly as fit as ever; but
have you any hope of beating them off eventually, Christie? If not, I
want to make a break for the woods as soon as it comes dark. I must
get back up the lake, for I am not yet prepared to give up the search
for my sister Edith."
"Nor shall you, my dear fellow, and I would join you in it with all my
heart if it were not for my duty here," replied the other, earnestly.
"At present, though, it would be more than folly to attempt an escape
from this place, and our only hope is to hold out until Wilkins sends
the reinforcements for which I have applied through Cuyler."
"Is there any chance of doing it?"
"There is every chance for us to do our best in trying."
A minute later the two young men had passed into the blockhouse, its
heavy oaken door was slammed and barred behind them, and the defence of
the little wilderness stronghold was begun.