DONALD FIRES THE MINE AND SAVES THE BLOCKHOUSE
Knowing the savage nature as well as he did, Donald believed that his
well-loved friend, as well as every one of the gallant fellows under
his command, would be put to death in case they surrendered; or, if
they were spared for the time being, it would only be for torture in
the Indian villages. He was determined, therefore, to make an effort
to save them; but his half-formed plan was of such a perilous nature
that he dared not confide it to Christie, for he knew that the latter
would never consent to its being undertaken. Once outside the
blockhouse, however, and lost to sight in the darkness, he was free to
act as he pleased.
After going a few steps he paused to listen, but no sound save that of
night-birds and the lapping of little waves on the lake shore came to
his ears. The silence was profound, and assured him that even the
savages, wearied with long fighting, were snatching a few hours of
sleep. On either side of him lay the still smoking ruins of the post,
for of all its buildings, the stronghold of logs alone remained
standing.
From these charred heaps, fitful flames, fanned into life by the soft
night breeze, sprang up every now and then, casting fantastic bits of
light and shadow over the scene of desolation.
Reassured by the silence, the young soldier swiftly crossed the open
space beyond which lay the forest, and skirted the latter to the lake
shore. There he hid his rifle and his supplies in the hollow of a
tree, so that he might have greater freedom of action. Then he worked
his way cautiously toward the rude breastworks facing the blockhouse.
A small fire of driftwood burned dimly behind these, and about it sat
several blanketed figures. In no other direction was there a sign of
wakefulness.
Donald was now crawling on hands and knees. Suddenly he encountered a
figure lying prone in his path, and had touched it before aware of its
proximity. Instantly he, too, lay flat on the ground, and, with heavy
breathing, so feigned sleep that the aroused savage was deceived into
believing the form beside him to be that of some restless comrade. So
he turned over with a grunt, and again dozed into unconsciousness.
After a few minutes Donald ventured to move, and then to pursue his way
with a greater caution than before. Now he passed other sleeping
forms, and even stepped over one whom he could not otherwise avoid.
Finally, after more than an hour of intense anxiety and stealthy
movement, only advancing by inches, and with frequent motionless
pauses, he discovered the place of which he was in search. It was the
mouth of the mine that the Indians had spent two days and nights in
excavating. As he had conjectured, it lay very near the little fire
beside which sat the drowsy guard, and not until he was well within its
profound shadow did he venture to draw a full breath.
The passage was very low, but of sufficient width to allow two persons
to pass each other, and after penetrating it a short distance he found
that it took a turn to the left. At this angle he was perplexed by
coming into contact with fragments of charred wood. Wondering for what
purpose these had been brought there, he still moved forward,
determined to discover whether or not the statement concerning a store
of powder beneath the blockhouse was true. All at once his
outstretched hands came into contact with something that barred his
further progress. It was hard, smooth, and round. There were other
similar objects above, below, and on both sides of it. They were
powder kegs, five in all, and of a size that should contain twenty
pounds. One hundred pounds of powder! Enough to lift the little
fortress from its foundations and scatter its timbers far and wide.
The savages had made no empty boast, and, unless he could save his
recent companions, their fate was surely sealed.
What could he do? Time was precious, for daylight could not be far
off. Beyond this point he had formed no plan. He had hoped to find
both the tunnel and its contents but an ingenious fiction to frighten
Christie into a surrender. Now it was a startling and overwhelming
truth. He could not remove the powder by the way he had come. In
fact, he doubted if he could effect his own escape that way, so thickly
were the sleeping savages dispersed about the entrance to the tunnel.
In this predicament, and with the intensity of his thinking, great
beads of perspiration started to his forehead, and he clenched his
hands until they ached.
The mine was all ready for firing. He knew this by discovering that
one of the powder kegs was open, and by finding the end of a rudely
made fuse buried in its contents. Who had taught the Indians this
diabolical trick of warfare? Never before had they been known to
prepare a mine. They must have been instructed by some white man, and
one possessed of military knowledge. All at once Donald recalled the
voice that had demanded the surrender of the blockhouse. Certainly, no
Indian ever spoke English like that. Had there not been a familiar
ring to the tones? It seemed so now, though he had been too intent on
other thoughts to notice it at the time. Still he was not sure, the
impression was too slight.
All these things flashed through Donald's mind in a moment, while his
hands were feeling out the exact condition of the mine. How long was
that fuse? He traced it backward as its evil length stretched along
the bottom of the tunnel. It led to the angle, and there he again
encountered the fragments of burned wood. At one side the tunnel
widened, and here its wall was entirely composed of this material.
Where could it have come from? It was freshly charred. The Indians
would never have brought it there and piled it in that confusion. It
must have fallen from above! There must be an opening! If there only
was, he would know just what to do. There would be no difficulty then
about forming a plan.
With eager haste Donald began pulling away the burned ends of timbers
and logs. He had hardly begun before the whole mass gave way, and slid
down on him. Fortunately, there was not much of it, and, though he was
nearly smothered by dust and ashes, he quickly scrambled from the
débris, and listened with loudly beating heart. He realized that he
had found an opening to the surface, and was wildly exultant over the
discovery, but could hardly believe that the noise of the sliding
material, which had sounded to him like an avalanche, should not have
aroused the savages. So, for some minutes, he listened, and then,
reassured by the continued silence, ventured to climb up to the open
air. He had but a few feet to go, and once at the surface instantly
recognized his surroundings. He was beside the ruins of Christie's
quarters, and just beyond rose the black mass of the blockhouse, in
which he had recently suffered so much.
But that glow in the east, against which it was outlined so distinctly!
It could not be that the night was already gone and daylight near at
hand. Yes, it was, though; and, realizing that his working time was
now limited to minutes, Donald slid back into the tunnel, and began to
carry the powder kegs, one at a time, toward its outer end, placing
them as near the entrance as he dared venture. He was forced to work
slowly in that confined space, as well as with the utmost caution; for,
by the rapidly increasing light, he caught occasional glimpses of dusky
forms passing and repassing the entrance, showing that the enemy was
already astir. He expected each time that he returned from the further
end of the mine to be confronted by some burly savage, and became so
nervous at the prospect that the utmost exercise of his will power was
required to enable him to complete his task. At length it was
finished. All the kegs were removed to their new position and piled
about the one whose open head admitted the fuse. The other end of this
reached half way to the new place of exit.
Almost breathless with nervous excitement, he knelt beside the farther
end of the fuse, and with trembling hands attempted to ignite it by a
spark struck from flint and steel. Again and again the spark flew
aside, but at length there came a slight flash and a spluttering flame.
Heavens! How fast that roughly made fuse burned! Almost like an open
train of powder. Donald had hardly thought of his own danger; but a
single glance at that hissing line of fire caused him to spring to his
place of exit. He scrambled through it, and darted at full speed
across the open toward the forest, heedless of everything save a desire
to place as great a distance as possible between himself and the awful
fire fiend about to leap forth.
As he reached the edge of the woods and turned to look, the explosion
came. He saw a sheet of vivid flame, that dimmed the brightness of the
rising sun, leaping in air. At the same instant, as though it had been
a thunderbolt and hurled at him, he was struck senseless by a crashing
blow on the head, delivered from behind.
The four or five crouching figures that had been grimly watching
Donald's approach, and sprang up to receive him as he turned to look
back, were for a moment petrified with fright at the suddenness and
violence of the shock. Then, moved by a common impulse, and without a
word being spoken, they lifted their unconscious captive, ran with him
to the lake shore, bundled him into a canoe, and pushed off.
Upon the Indians behind the breastwork, where the full force of the
explosion was felt, the effect was so disastrous that the
panic-stricken survivors rushed madly for their canoes. Many of these
were damaged, and some crushed beyond repair, by the rain of logs,
stones, and other missiles hurled from the dense smoke-cloud that was
slowly drifting to leeward in fleecy folds.
Although the blockhouse was violently shaken, it remained standing,
and, after a moment of consternation, its garrison rushed out to hasten
the flight of their terrified foes. A few ran to the breastwork on the
lake shore, and gazed wonderingly at the smoking hole from which the
torrent of flame had burst. The rest, headed by Christie, charged upon
the Indians behind the creek hank, who, although preparing for flight,
were not quite so bereft of their senses as those who had felt the full
shock of the upheaval. Some of them even turned on the whites, who
rushed so recklessly among them; so that for a minute a fierce
hand-to-hand fight raged on the narrow strand, and even among the
crowded canoes in the water. In the confusion of this mêlée Christie
became separated from his men, and ere he realized the full peril of
his position received several knife wounds in quick succession.
Staggering under these, he fell, was instantly dragged into a canoe,
and borne away.
It was only after the last of the canoes had made good its escape,
leaving many dead savages behind, that the little force of breathless
but exulting soldiers discovered their leader to be missing. In vain
did they search for him. In vain did they run along the shore, firing
ineffectual shots at the departing fleet. He was not to be found, nor
had they any knowledge of his fate.
So their jubilation over this wonderful deliverance and victory was
turned into sorrow, and it was with heavy hearts that, abandoning the
little fortress, they set forth on a retreat towards the Niagara.