DONALD AND THE PAYMASTER ESCAPE
While Donald's fears for Edith's safety were somewhat allayed by the
paymaster's story, he was still very anxious concerning her. He knew
nothing of Pontiac's friendly feeling toward his family, and feared
that the prisoners were only being held on the island until it should
be convenient to remove them to some distant Indian village, where,
beyond the hope of rescue, they would be compelled to endure a life of
slavery. Now, therefore, his desire was to return to the vicinity of
the island, where he hoped to find some opportunity of escaping from
his captors, and of effecting his sister's rescue. In his plans he of
course included Christie and Bullen, whom he counted on for aid,
though, to his chagrin, he was not allowed to communicate with them
after that first interview. During it the leaders of the war-party
also held a council, which resulted in a decision to proceed at once on
their journey. Thus Bullen had hardly concluded his story, when camp
was broken and the westward voyage was resumed. At the same time the
three white men were separated and assigned to different canoes.
In their haste the Indians travelled early and late, with all speed.
Both Christie and Bullen were compelled to assist in paddling, as well
as to labor at the most menial tasks when in camp, receiving as a
recompense only kicks and blows. They had, indeed, become slaves, and
were treated as such, while at all times their tormentors found delight
in assuring them that they would most certainly be burned to death on
reaching the villages near Detroit. Fortunately game was plentiful,
and food was procured in abundance by the hunters, otherwise the two
slaves would have suffered from hunger, as they were never allowed to
eat until the wants of every other person in the party had been amply
supplied.
Donald, on the other hand, while watchfully guarded, was treated with
the utmost of savage courtesy. He was not asked, nor even allowed, to
perform any labor, was always supplied with the choicest food the camp
afforded, and was the first to whom the calumet was handed upon the
conclusion of a meal. In only two ways was he reminded of his true
position. At night, though he was not bound, as were his comrades, he
was obliged to sleep between two warriors, who were watchfully awake
with every movement he made. If he attempted to hold converse with the
other captives, they were driven from his presence with blows. Once,
when he tried to communicate with Bullen, a young warrior sprang
forward, struck the paymaster with a stick, and angrily bade him
begone. Boiling with rage, and turning on the aggressor with clenched
fists, Donald was about to avenge this insult, when he who had acted as
interpreter sprang between them.
"My brother must be very careful," he said to Donald; "for some of our
young men are so reckless that they do not even respect the Metai. If
you should strike one of them, they would surely kill you and the other
white men as well."
So Donald was obliged to control himself as best he could, and bear the
sufferings of his companions in silence, but his mind was ever filled
with plans for escape. Whenever he succeeded in attracting Christie's
attention, he sought by meaning glances at a certain canoe smaller than
any of the others, and then off over the lake, to convey an idea of
what was in his mind, and was led to believe from the other's
expression that he understood. From Bullen, however, he could gain no
satisfaction in this way, and concluded that the paymaster was not so
quick-witted as his brother officer.
At length one noon the war-party reached a point near the ruins of
Sandusky, where they found a number of Shawnees, who were about to
ascend Cedar Creek to their villages on the Scioto. These had with
them several casks of rum, one of which was, after a long talk,
transferred to the canoe in which Donald travelled. Then, to his
intense grief and dismay, his own party resumed their journey, with the
exception that Christie was left behind in the hands of the strangers.
The slave had been sold, though he did not realize the fact until he
started to enter the canoe in which he had come, and was forcibly
restrained while it was pushed off. Then as the meaning of the
situation flashed across him, he wrenched loose from those who held him
and raced along the beach until opposite the canoe that held Donald, to
whom he shouted:--
"Good-bye, Hester! God bless you! Tell them at the fort that I--"
Here he was pounced upon by his new masters and dragged away with
Donald's answering farewell ringing in his ears.
It was after sunset that evening when the war-party reached the camp
site selected as suitable for the orgy in which they proposed to
indulge. The canoe containing Donald and the cask of fire-water was
among the last to make a landing. Already fires were lighted on the
bank above, and the earlier arrivals were impatiently awaiting the
liquor for which they had been willing to barter a highly prized
captive. Thus the moment it landed the cask was seized and borne
triumphantly into camp, followed by all who had been on the beach. For
the first time since his capture, Donald was left to himself, forgotten
or overlooked in the general excitement. He stood for a minute,
irresolute. His opportunity for escape had come. It would be easy to
push off the canoe, jump in, and paddle away. To be sure, his absence
would be quickly discovered and a hot pursuit would ensue, but he was
willing to risk that. Or should he slip into the underbrush, take a
great circuit about the camp and make his way to Detroit overland
through the trackless forest? It would be a difficult but not
impossible thing to do. Still, it must not be thought of, for there
was Edith still a captive, and any freedom that he might gain must be
devoted to her rescue. So he must take his chances of escape by water.
Donald was moving toward the canoe, when his steps were arrested by
another consideration. What would become of Bullen? In their rage at
the flight of one captive, the liquor-crazed savages would surely kill
the other. Could he abandon a comrade to such a fate? Certainly not.
If he escaped at all, it must be in company with the little paymaster
who had proved himself so loyal. So this opportunity must be allowed
to slip by, for poor Bullen was somewhere up there in the camp, cutting
wood or performing other of the menial tasks allotted to him.
"No; old Bullen must not be deserted. There were but two of them left
now, and they must stand by each other." Thus thinking, Donald turned
toward the camp, but halted at the sound of approaching voices. Then
two figures appeared through the dusk, both running, and one apparently
pursued by the other. But one was swearing, and the other laughing.
It was poor Bullen, clad in the ragged blanket,--which was now his sole
garment,--sent down to fetch his own tub, to which one of the chiefs
had taken such a fancy that he always sat in it before the evening
camp-fires. The labor of carrying it up from the canoes at night, and
back again in the morning devolved upon its original owner, who had
thus come to hate it with a bitter hatred. This time he had purposely
shirked the task of lugging the clumsy thing up that steep bank, and so
had been sent back for it. The young guard who accompanied him was
already exhilarated by a cup of fire-water, and in such haste to return
for more that he found great delight in compelling his charge to run by
prodding him from behind with a fish-spear.
As Donald was somewhat hidden in the shadow of a tree, neither of the
newcomers noticed him, until the little paymaster had succeeded in
getting the tub on his back, and started to retrace his weary way to
the camp. Then, as Donald stepped from the shadow, Bullen, recognizing
him, and instantly realizing their opportunity, turned like a flash,
lunged forward with lowered head, and butted the young savage squarely
in the stomach. He fell like a log, with his assailant and the tub on
top of him. Ere he could regain his voice or breath, he was gagged,
bound, and lifted into a canoe, which was immediately shoved off.
No word was spoken by either of the fugitives as the light craft shot
away under the noiseless but powerful dips of their straining paddles;
but, in spite of his anxiety, Donald could not help noticing and
wondering at his comrade's proficiency in the art of canoeing. The
painful lessons of his captivity had taught him how to escape from it;
and he who two months before had never seen a birch canoe was now
paddling one with the skill of an expert.
They were not gone from the beach more than five minutes, though their
point of departure was already lost to view in the darkness, when a
confusion of voices announced that their escape was discovered, and
infused a new energy into their efforts. Donald was laying a course
due west, and not more than a quarter of a mile from the beach. All at
once he laid in his paddle, and said: "Face about carefully, Bullen,
and help me chuck this useless weight overboard."
"Are you going to drown him?" asked the other, as he obeyed the order
to face about.
"Not if I can help it; but we must take care that he doesn't drown us.
He would be only too glad of a chance to upset the canoe; and he
wouldn't have very hard work, either."
The getting of that young savage into the water was a difficult and
ticklish job; but they finally succeeded, after Donald had first
removed the gag from his mouth. He took the Indian's knife, and, as
the latter slid into the water, Bullen held him by the scalp-lock,
while Donald severed the thong that bound his wrists. In his rage, the
Indian attempted to seize the gunwale of the canoe and pull it under;
but, anticipating this, Donald struck him a rap on the head with the
back of the knife that caused him to change his mind.
"Do you think he can swim with his feet bound?" asked Bullen, as the
two white men resumed their paddling.
"Certainly he can," replied Donald; "and he can yell, too. Hear him?"
"I should say I did, and I wondered why you relieved him from that gag.
If he keeps up that racket, he'll bring the whole fleet in this
direction."
"That is exactly what I brought him along for, and what I want him to
do," replied Donald, with a laugh. "Nor do I care how much longer they
keep on in this direction, for I am about to take another. Don't you
remember that we passed the island--a blue dot far out in the
lake--this afternoon, so that it is now behind us and somewhere off in
the northeast? We have got to run for it by the stars, and decide on
our course before we entirely lose sight of the coast. Hush now, and
don't speak another word for the next hour, as you value your life."
With this Donald steered the canoe, in a great sweeping curve, out into
the vague blackness of the fresh-water sea.