IN THE WILDERNESS ONCE MORE
For six hours the attack upon Fort Detroit continued with unabated
fury. From every side arose blood-curdling war cries, and these were
returned by the old-time hunters and trappers inside the stronghold.
Time and again it looked as if the red men would do their best to storm
the palisade, and the guard was urged to be on the alert against every
new move the enemy made.
At last the Indians saw that further firing upon the fort would be
useless, and one after another the various chiefs and their warriors
withdrew. Inside the fort five men had been wounded, and the red enemy
had suffered perhaps a slightly greater loss.
Major Gladwyn had not been caught napping so far as the attack was
concerned, but he had been caught in another direction. He was short
of provisions, and scarcely knew what to do in case the Indians should
besiege the fort for any length of time.
"We must get more provisions in," he said to Major Campbell, his second
in command. "Let us open negotiations with the Indians. That will give
us time in which to fill up our storehouse."
Accordingly negotiating were opened and lasted several days. After
conferring with La Butte and others, Pontiac said he wanted to talk to
Major Campbell.
"Very well, I'll see him," said Major Campbell, and without hesitation
departed on his dangerous mission, taking several others with him. He
was received by Pontiac with scant ceremony and when he started to
return to the fort, was told that he must remain a prisoner of the
Indians.
This last action of Pontiac opened Major Gladwyn's eye to the fact
that the Indians were in deadly earnest, and soon it was reported that
the red men were surrounding the fort upon every side, and that their
numbers were constantly increasing. Provisions were now running low and
those within the stronghold knew not what to do.
"We had better leave the fort and sail for Niagara," said one officer.
"All told, we have less than two hundred men, while the redskins must
number at least a thousand if not two thousand."
"Yes, and we must remember that all our buildings are of wood," said
another. "If they throw in fire arrows we are bound to have a big
conflagration."
"With a tree they could batter down our gates with ease," said still
another. "And what could two hundred of us do against two thousand?
They would kill and scalp every one of us."
So the talk ran on. But others thought it would be most unwise to
surrender the fort at this time, and one brought in news of a Canadian
who had some hogs and cattle that he proposed to let Major Gladwyn
have. The cisterns about the place were filled with water and the roofs
of the various buildings were frequency wet down. The palisade was
strengthened, and when the Indians were away trying to obtain food for
themselves, small parties ventured outside the fort grounds, and burned
or tore down the buildings near by, so that the enemy could not use
them for shelter.
"This looks as if we were booked to remain at Fort Detroit for some
time," remarked Dave, one day. "I don't think that Frenchman will come
back here while this trouble is taking place."
"I hardly think so myself, Dave," answered Barringford. "Howsomever,
all we can do is to wait and see."
"I've heard that Major Gladwyn is going to send one of the schooners to
Niagara for provisions." The vessel set sail several days later, the
Indians doing their best to capture her, but without avail.
Day after day passed and soon came another attack by the Indians.
During this encounter the red men tried their best to burn down the
buildings inside the palisade, but the garrison was on the alert and
the fire was put out without much damage being done. Provisions were
now so low that Dave and Barringford received next to nothing to eat.
"Can't stand this," said the old frontiersman. "Unless I miss my guess
it's goin' to stay this way all summer, too."
"Do you mean that Pontiac will lay siege to Detroit?"
"It's a siege now, Dave. We can't go outside the stockade onless we run
the risk o' being peppered."
"I'm getting worried about matters at home, and about father and my
Cousin Henry," went on Dave. "For all we know, the post may be wiped
out."
Two days later several French traders came into Detroit, bringing news
from the forts to the west and south. As soon as they had had their
talk with the commandant, Dave approached them. Neither could speak
English, so the lad had to converse through the aid of an interpreter.
"The trading-posts on the Ohio are all in the hands of the Indians,"
was the dismaying news. "The English have been driven away. A few
rascals of Frenchmen are aiding the red men. Some of the English
traders have gone to Fort Pitt and the other are either in the
wilderness in hiding, or else dead."
"And do you know anything definite of my father's post?"
"Like the rest, it is in the hands of the Indians. A French trader
named Jean Bevoir is also there."
"Bevoir!" ejaculated Dave. "Oh, Sam, did you hear that? That rascal has
turned up again!"
"Do you know if Mr. Morris is alive?" asked the old frontiersman, for
he saw that Dave could not bring himself to put the question.
"He got away from the fort, along with a number of others," was the
answer. "I think he struck out for Fort Pitt, but of that I am not
sure."
This was all the Frenchman could tell, and Dave thanked him. With a
downcast heart the youth walked away with Barringford.
"Sam, I wish I was with father!" he cried, presently. "I'd give all I'm
worth to be with him this minute!"
"It gits me how thet Jean Bevoir should turn up," returned the old
frontiersman.
"I think we ought to start for home, or for Fort Pitt, at once," went
on Dave.
"Easier said nor done, lad. You remember what a time we had gittin'
here. We don't want to fall into the hands o' them redskins. They are
red-hot fer slaughter jest now."
"Yes, I know, but----"
"I can understand your anxiety, Dave. But jest at present, we'd better
stay here."
The days went by, and for the time being the Indians outside of the
fort did little or nothing. Unknown to Major Gladwyn they were on
the lookout for the convoy which they knew was expected from Fort
Schlosser, just above the Falls of Niagara. Later on this convoy fell
into the red men's hands, adding greatly to the privations at Fort
Detroit. The Indians also went down to Fort Sandusky, which was quickly
burned to the ground. Then followed attacks on Presque Isle, Venango,
and other points, so that by June only three important forts, Niagara,
Detroit, and Pitt, held out against the enemy. At some of the smaller
forts the slaughter was so terrible and complete that not a soul lived
to tell of the tragedy.
Satisfied at last that Benoit Vascal would not return to Detroit for
the present, Dave and Barringford made up their minds to return to Fort
Cumberland at the first opportunity. Reports were now coming in thickly
that the uprising was general, and one messenger brought the news
(which afterwards proved to be false), that the Indians were attacking
some of the towns close to the seacoast.
"We must get back," insisted Dave. "For all we know, we may be needed
the worst way."
The pair talked it over for two days and then told Major Gladwyn of
their plans. They found that a trapper named Flabig was also going to
leave, and it was arranged that the three should go together. A dark
night was chosen for the departure, and the three were provided with
a stout canoe and such provisions as the commandant of the fort could
spare.
"We're taking our lives in our hands, Dave," came from the old
frontiersman, when they set out. "We may never reach another civilized
settlement again."
After that but little was said. The hunter, Flabig, knew the Detroit
River and Lake Erie well, and they trusted the navigation of their
little craft to him. Fortunately, although it was dark, some of the
stars were shining, by which they guided their course.
For once fortune favored them, and by the following morning they had
left Fort Detroit far behind, and were on the broad expanse of Lake
Erie. Not a vessel of any kind was in sight, for which they were
thankful.
"We've given the Injuns the slip this time," said Barringford. "I must
say, now it's over, I didn't calkerlate we'd git away."
They kept on down the lake all of that day and for the greater part of
the night. Then, growing alarmed at the sight of several canoes in the
dim distance, they turned into shore, and went into camp until the next
night, when the journey was resumed.
Summer was now at hand, and at one place where they stopped they found
a profusion of wild strawberries. They also saw not a little game, and,
at the risk of being discovered, brought down as much as they desired
with their rifles.
"This is indeed a wilderness," observed Dave, gazing about them. "I
don't believe there's an Indian within twenty miles of us."
"Don't be too sure," answered Barringford. "They don't say, 'How dy'e
do!' an' tip their caps when they spot ye."
One day followed another and still the three kept on their journey. The
lake was now left behind, and they started on almost a straight trail
to the southward.
"If we don't meet any Indians perhaps we can stop at Fort Pitt," said
Dave.
The following day it stormed, and the rain came down so thickly they
had to go into camp, under the shelter of some trees. It thundered
and lightened, and they heard more than one big tree go down with a
mighty crash. But none of the falls were near them, for which they were
thankful.
For the past twenty-four hours they had been following a narrow trail
which ran along through a beautiful valley. Flabig said he had been on
that trail the year before, and pointed out several trees upon which
he had cut his initials. But after the storm was over, and they had
covered a few miles more, the hunter came to a sudden halt.
"Don't look like the same trail no more," he said, blankly. "We must
have made a false turn."
There was nothing to do but to turn back, and this they did. They had
hardly covered half a mile when Sam Barringford gave a shout of warning.
"Stop!"
"What's up, Sam?" asked Dave, quickly.
"Don't ye see the Injun tracks? They've been a follerin' us right
along."
"Then they must have turned back, as we did."
"Right ye are, lad."
"Fifteen or twenty Injuns, too!" added Flabig, after looking at the
footprints. "Boys, I don't like this nohow."
"We can't go back any further," said Dave. "We'd be running into a
regular trap."
Hardly had he spoken when a rifle shot rang out and Flabig gave a groan.
"I'm done fer!" he gasped. "I thought they'd git me some day!" And he
fell dead where he stood.