IN WHICH NATHAN MAKES A PERILOUS SWIM
It is more than likely that the Senecas and their white allies
underestimated the strength of the party in the flat, or else the
discovery and demolition of their ambuscade drove them to such desperate
measures. At all events, they speedily found they had made a mistake,
and in the brief and sharp struggle that followed they got scarcely a
show.
Of the four Indians who scrambled over the bulwark three cleared the
crouching men and landed beyond them, and the fourth fell heavily on top
of Barnabas and McNicol. Before he could use his tomahawk he was pounced
upon by the Scotchman, and the two began a lively scuffle.
Mrs. Cutbush carried a loaded pistol at her waist, and while she pushed
Molly behind her with one hand, with the other the courageous woman
drew the weapon and shot one of the three remaining Indians through the
head. The second managed to inflict a severe slash with his tomahawk on
Cato's arm, and then Barnabas knocked him senseless with the butt of his
musket. The third did not wait to be killed, but with a screech, vaulted
over the far side of the boat and disappeared, narrowly escaping a shot
that Cutbush sent after him.
At that moment the Seneca who was struggling with McNicol broke away,
leaving his tomahawk in the other's hand, and, as he bounded for
freedom, Morgan Proud jumped in front of him. They grappled, and fell
heavily against the bulwark. The wall of timbers gave way under the
strain and both splashed into the river.
There was a quick rush to that side to help Proud, but he and the Indian
had disappeared utterly.
As the missing man's friends anxiously scanned the water, a Tory
belonging to the attacking party scrambled up in the stern of the boat.
McNicol instantly saw him and fired, and the man dropped back with a
cry.
Meanwhile, during the entire struggle, Simon Glass had been crouching
unseen amid the deep shadows at the bow of the flat, from which place of
vantage he had more than one opportunity for a certain shot at his
enemies. Now, just as McNicol fired at the Tory in the stern, Nathan
caught sight of the figure at the opposite end. With his empty musket in
his hand the lad ran toward the spot, little dreaming of the man's
identity, or that he was affording Glass just the opportunity for which
he had been watching and waiting.
The ruffian rose a little higher, leveled his rifle, and fired. But for
the second time he missed his victim at close range, the ball whizzing
within a fraction of an inch of Nathan's ear. The report drew the
attention of the others, and Godfrey discovered and shot at the Tory
just as he made a bound to escape. He half jumped, half fell, into the
water, and all ran eagerly to the bow of the boat, which was now
drifting slowly down to the falls.
"Was that Simon Glass, lad?" exclaimed Barnabas.
"Yes," declared Nathan, "and he very nearly finished me!"
"There he is!" cried Godfrey, as a dark object rose to the surface near
the verge of the falls. An instant later it slipped over and vanished,
nor could it be seen again. Equally futile was the search for Morgan
Proud and the Indian; beyond a doubt they had perished together.
"It's no use," muttered Barnabas. "Poor Proud is gone. But I have my
doubts about that Tory ruffian. He's got as many lives as a cat, an'
it's possible he's makin' for shore now, out of sight yonder below the
falls."
"Where's the rest of the party?" said McNicol. "It ain't possible we
cleaned them all up. We'd better be looking." With this he led his
companions back to the stern, past the bodies of the two Indians. Mrs.
Cutbush was engaged in binding up Cato's wounded arm, and Molly was
sobbing hysterically from fright as she clung to her mother's gown.
The whole affair had transpired in such brief time that the cumbrous
boat had moved only a short distance. In plain view above was the
mysterious little island, now readily seen to be a long, narrow canoe
trimmed with bushes and pine boughs. The collision with the flat had
upset it, but it still rested stationary on the water, showing that it
was anchored.
There was no sound or motion in the near vicinity, but a subdued
splashing in the channel between the canoe and the promontory told
clearly enough that some survivors of the enemy were swimming to the
shore.
"It ain't likely they can do us any more harm," said Barnabas, "for I
reckon their guns an' powder are wet. Of all the infernal tricks I've
heard of, that was the neatest. They got ahead of us by land, run across
that canoe somewhere, an' anchored it yonder, where they knew we'd have
to pass within close range."
"And expecting to pour in a volley, while we were exposed above the
bulwarks," replied Nathan.
"Exactly, lad," assented Barnabas, "only we didn't give 'em a chance."
Turning to Cutbush, he added: "Better take the rudder, man; we're nearly
at the falls."
Just then Mrs. Cutbush, who was in the bow, uttered a cry, and a tongue
of fire was seen to leap up from the bed of dry grass in the middle of
the boat. Evidently a bit of wadding had lain there smouldering, and now
a breeze had fanned it into a blaze.
Godfrey was nearest, but before he could get to the spot the fire
reached an open powderhorn that lay in the grass. It blew up with a dull
report, and instantly the whole bed was a mass of hissing, roaring
flames. And in the very midst of the blaze, where it had been thrown
that morning to protect it from the damp floor, lay the cask of powder.
All realized at once their terrible danger.
"It's too late to outen the fire," cried Barnabas. "The explosion may
come any moment! Jump for your lives!"
Just then the flat swung over the falls, quivered and tossed amid the
rocks and waves, and darted on to the deep and sluggish water below.
Barnabas and Cutbush sprang past the flames to the bow, the former
taking Molly in his arms, and the latter grabbing his wife. They and
Cato sprang into the river at the same time that McNicol and the two
lads jumped from the stern, and as hard as they could the whole party
swam out toward mid-channel, scarcely heeding the two shots that were
fired at them from the cover of the bank. They safely gained a cluster
of rocks with a fringe of gravel at the base, and from behind this
shelter they turned to watch the blazing flat as it drifted by at a
distance of twenty feet.
[Illustration: AS THEY LOOKED THE EXPLOSION CAME]
They had hardly looked when a terrific explosion came, casting a red
glare all around, and seeming to shake the very bottom of the river. A
shower of sparks and splinters fell, and huge waves rolled in all
directions. For a second or two the shattered craft bobbed up and down,
still blazing here and there. Then it lurched under and disappeared, and
darkness and silence settled on the scene.
The situation of the little party was now disheartening. They were
stranded on a rocky bar well out in the channel, dripping wet, and
without means of safely getting away. They were almost defenseless in
case of an attack, and to attempt to swim to shore would be a desperate
and foolhardy proceeding under the circumstances.
But, in the stupor that followed the explosion, the first impression of
the castaways--one and all--was a feeling of intense gratitude for the
perils they had escaped, and, before they could realize how badly off
they still were, a faint shout came floating over the water, and a dark
form was seen struggling toward the rocks from a ledge higher up stream
and nearer the bank. The swimmer made a gallant fight against the
current, and when he finally gained the bar all were surprised and
overjoyed to recognize Morgan Proud.
"Given me up, had you?" the plucky fellow exclaimed, as he clasped hands
with his friends. "Well, I had a close call. That redskin stuck to me
till we went over the falls. Then we parted company, and after I reached
yonder rock I didn't spy him again. I was lying over there getting my
breath back when the flat took fire and blew up."
"Did you see anything of Simon Glass?" inquired Barnabas.
"He shot by, swimming like a fish," declared Proud, "and I lost sight of
him among the ledges and shoals below my rock. I daresay he got safe to
shore."
"I'm sure he did," Barnabas muttered grimly. "So that ruffian is still
alive, an' there's likely half a dozen more to keep him company. We're
in a pretty tight place, comrades. We can't make the far shore without a
boat, an' if we try to swim to yonder bank it means certain death. Glass
an' what's left of his party are prowlin' about on watch now--you heard
them fire twice as we were swimmin' away from the boat. An' the worst of
it is that we're defenseless."
Immediate investigation proved the old woodman to be right. Nathan and
McNicol alone had held on to their muskets when they plunged from the
flat, and Mrs. Cutbush had her empty pistol. But all the weapons were
wet and useless, and though several of the party had a supply of ball,
the only powder that had survived the explosion was a small quantity in
Proud's water-proof horn.
"It's aggravating to think how near we are to the forts and to
Northumberland," said Nathan. "Glass will hardly dare to prowl about the
neighborhood long."
"I'm sure he won't leave yet," muttered Godfrey; "that is, if he knows
we are here."
"He does, lad," replied Barnabas. "The light of the burning flat showed
us up plainly when we reached the rocks. The enemy will do one of two
things. The first--which is to come down an' attack us in their canoe up
yonder--I consider unlikely. The second is that they'll lie hid in the
timber till morning, expectin' we'll believe they've gone then, an'
we'll venture over to shore."
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Nathan, who had suddenly conceived a brilliant idea;
"I know how to outwit them nicely, Barnabas, provided they don't try the
first of those two plans."
"How, lad?"
"Why, the canoe, of course! I can get it by swimming over to the big
island, running a quarter of a mile up the shore, and then swimming
quietly down and over to the spot."
"But Glass or some of the Indians may be up there now," said McNicol.
"No," replied Nathan, "I'm sure they are all straight across here
watching to get a shot. And they won't see me leave if I keep down in
the water."
"The lad is right," declared Barnabas. "It's a good plan, but a mighty
risky one, since we can't be certain of the whereabouts of the enemy.
But I'll go myself."
"I only wish I could," muttered Godfrey, "but I'm a wretchedly poor
swimmer."
"No, I'm going," insisted Nathan. "I am long-winded, and ever since I
can remember I could swim like a fish."
"Don't risk your young life, my brave boy," pleaded Mrs. Cutbush. "Leave
this to some of the older men."
But Nathan refused to yield, and since he was obviously the best fitted
for carrying out the undertaking, and the canoe offered the only means
of escape for the party from a most perilous situation, a reluctant
consent was finally given.
"Take this to cut the canoe loose," said Barnabas, handing the lad a
sharp knife. "You'll likely find it anchored by a rope."
Nathan stripped off all but his light trousers, put the hilt of the
knife between his teeth, and swam quickly away from the outer edge of
the rocks, followed by anxious eyes and heartfelt wishes for his safety.
Packer's Island extended some distance below the falls, as well as
above, and the current drifted Nathan nearly to the lower point before
he struck shallow water. He waded the remainder of the distance, and
then ran briskly up the bushy and sandy shore. The night was dark, but
he could dimly make out the jutting promontory when he came opposite it.
He continued five hundred yards further toward the head of the island,
and then softly entered the water for his diagonal swim of rather more
than a quarter of a mile.
Only his head peeped over the surface and a slight ripple trailing
behind him was all that marked the gentle strokes of his arms and legs.
He was soon in mid-channel, from where he could darkly make out the
canoe. He swam to a point ten feet above it, and dropped down with the
stealth of a mink. As he drew nearer he saw that the craft lay bottom
up, and was held by a tow rope running down into the water from the bow.
A couple of half-submerged pine boughs still clung to it.
The lad caught hold of the rope with one hand, and with the other he
took the knife from between his teeth. He was about to slash when a
husky screech made his blood run cold, and he looked up to see the
painted face of an Indian glaring at him within ten inches.
The redskin had evidently been shot in the first volley from the flat,
and had been clinging to the canoe ever since, too badly hurt to cry out
or to swim to shore. But the sight of a hated foe revived his strength,
and on the very second that he made his presence known he sprang at
Nathan and clutched his throat.
Down went both, entangled with the rope, and tearing it loose from the
anchorage in their struggles. The lad kept one hand free, and while he
held his breath he stabbed repeatedly with the knife. After a few
terrible seconds the grip on his neck relaxed, and he shot to the
surface.
The Indian did not reappear, and Nathan lost no time in striking for the
canoe. He swung it around by the dangling rope, and started to swim with
it down-stream. Bang! went a musket from the promontory, and a bullet
whistled overhead. A second shot followed after an interval of half a
minute, but now lad and canoe were on the verge of the open passage
through the falls. They went plunging down the slope of spray and waves,
and three minutes later Nathan skillfully landed his prize on the outer
side of the cluster of rocks.
Nathan's safe return was a joyful disappointment, for his friends had
given him up when they heard the firing. In a few words the lad told the
story of his adventurous swim, and some of the tributes to his bravery
made him blush.
"Now let's be off while we've got the chance," cried Barnabas. "I judge,
from the shootin', a part of the varmints are still lurkin' above the
falls."
So the canoe was turned right-side up and the fugitives hurriedly
embarked. They were a little crowded, but that discomfort they did not
mind.
Either the enemy's weapons were empty, or else they could not see what
was taking place for the darkness of the night. At all events, no shots
were fired from the bank, and presently a swifter current took the canoe
past the distant lights of Northumberland and out into the broad channel
of the main river. The two muskets were reversed and used for paddles,
and an hour before midnight the fort at Shamokin was safely reached.
Here the weary fugitives were warmly welcomed, and provided with supper
and lodging. Barnabas extracted the packet of papers from his boot, and
after drying them over a fire he restored them to their hiding-place.
Much to Nathan's disappointment, no news had lately been received from
the army; but the tidings of the Wyoming massacre had traveled quickly,
and great alarm was felt lest the enemy should advance down the
Susquehanna to raid the extensive military stores at Carlisle.
Cato was unfit for travel, and Proud and Cutbush, with the latter's
family, decided to remain at Shamokin fort for a few days. McNicol also
wished to stay, so that he might visit a married sister who lived at the
settlement of Northumberland.
So, at dawn the next morning, Barnabas and the two lads said good-bye to
their friends, and resumed their journey down the river in the canoe,
satisfied that Simon Glass would give them no further trouble. Indeed,
they were by no means sure that the ruffian had escaped drowning.
Below the point of junction of the two branches the current of the
Susquehanna was very swift, and the little party traveled rapidly. They
made brief stops at McKeesport and the Halifax fort, where they found
the same ignorance prevailing concerning the seat of war. Just as the
sun was setting they came in sight of Fort Hunter, which stood on a
jutting bluff half a mile above the beautiful Kittochtinny Gap, where
the river flings itself over a barrier of rocks as it leaves the
mountains behind.
Barnabas hauled the canoe high and dry under the stockade, and led his
companions up the bank and around to the gate. A sentry was on guard,
and after a little questioning he passed the party through. As they went
across the yard they observed a horse tied to a post; the animal was
saddled and bridled, and showed traces of recent hard riding.
In the middle room of the block-house something of a stirring nature
seemed to be taking place. The new arrivals heard voices raised in
shrill and angry dispute, and as they entered they saw two soldiers
roughly pushing a man toward a door at one side of the room.
The prisoner was strenuously resisting, and clamoring to be set free,
and in his struggles he revealed his face to Nathan. With a thrill of
excitement the lad recognized the last man he could have expected to
find here.