THE SHADOW
OF THE NORTH
A STORY OF OLD NEW YORK
AND A LOST CAMPAIGN
BY
JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER
1917
FOREWORD
"The Shadow of the North," while an independent story, in itself, is
also the second volume of the Great French and Indian War series which
began with "The Hunters of the Hills." All the important characters of
the first romance reappear in the second.
CHARACTERS IN THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR SERIES
ROBERT LENNOX A lad of unknown origin
TAYOGA A young Onondaga warrior
DAVID WILLET A hunter
RAYMOND LOUIS DE ST. LUC A brilliant French officer
AGUSTE DE COURCELLES A French officer
FRANÇOIS DE JUMÓNVILLE A French officer
LOUIS DE GALISONNIÈRE A young French officer
JEAN DE MÉZY A corrupt Frenchman
ARMAN GLANDELET A young Frenchman
PIERRE BOUCHER A bully and bravo
PHILIBERT DROUILLAR A French priest
THE MARQUIS DUQUESNE Governor-General of Canada
MARQUIS DE VAUDREUIL Governor-General of Canada
FRANÇOIS BIGOT Intendant of Canada
MARQUIS DE MONTCALM French commander-in-chief
DE LEVIS A French general
BOURLAMAQUE A French general
BOUGAINVILLE A French general
ARMAND DUBOIS A follower of St. Luc
M. DE CHATILLARD An old French Seigneur
CHARLES LANGLADE A French partisan
THE DOVE The Indian wife of Langlade
TANDAKORA An Ojibway chief
DAGANOWEDA A young Mohawk chief
HENDRICK An old Mohawk chief
BRADDOCK A British general
ABERCROMBIE A British general
WOLFE A British general
COL. WILLIAM JOHNSON Anglo-American leader
MOLLY BRANT Col. Wm. Johnson's Indian wife
JOSEPH BRANT Young brother of Molly Brant,
afterward the great Mohawk
chief, Thayendanegea
ROBERT DINWIDDIE Lieutenant-Governor of Virginia
WILLIAM SHIRLEY Governor of Massachusetts
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN Famous American patriot
JAMES COLDEN A young Philadelphia captain
WILLIAM WILTON A young Philadelphia lieutenant
HUGH CARSON A young Philadelphia lieutenant
JACOBUS HUYSMAN An Albany burgher
CATERINA Jacobus Huysman's cook
ALEXANDER MCLEAN An Albany schoolmaster
BENJAMIN HARDY A New York merchant
JOHNATHAN PILLSBURY Clerk to Benjamin Hardy
ADRIAN VAN ZOON A New York merchant
THE SLAVER A nameless rover
ACHILLE GARAY A French spy
ALFRED GROSVENOR A young English officer
JAMES CABELL A young Virginian
WALTER STUART A young Virginian
BLACK RIFLE A famous "Indian fighter"
ELIHU STRONG A Massachusetts colonel
ALAN HERVEY A New York financier
STUART WHYTE Captain of the British sloop,
_Hawk_
JOHN LATHAM Lieutenant of the British sloop,
_Hawk_
EDWARD CHARTERIS A young officer of the Royal Americans
ZEBEDEE CRANE A young scout and forest runner
ROBERT ROGERS Famous Captain of American Rangers
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE ONONDAGA
II. THE AMBUSH
III. THE SIGNAL
IV. THE PERILOUS PATH
V. THE RUNNER
VI. THE RETURN
VII. THE RED WEAPON
VIII. WARAIYAGEH
IX. THE WATCHER
X. THE PORT
X1. THE PLAY
XII. THE SLAVER
XIII. THE MEETING
XIV. THE VIRGINIA CAPITAL
XV. THE FOREST FIGHT
THE SHADOW OF THE
NORTH
CHAPTER I
THE ONONDAGA
Tayoga, of the Clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great
League of the Hodenosaunee, advanced with utmost caution through a
forest, so thick with undergrowth that it hid all objects twenty yards
away. He was not armed with a rifle, but carried instead a heavy bow,
while a quiver full of arrows hung over his shoulder. He wore less
clothing than when he was in the white man's school at Albany, his
arms and shoulders being bare, though not painted.
The young Indian's aspect, too, had changed. The great struggle
between English and French, drawing with it the whole North American
wilderness, had begun and, although the fifty sachems still sought to
hold the Six Nations neutral, many of their bravest warriors were
already serving with the Americans and English, ranging the forest as
scouts and guides and skirmishers, bringing to the campaign an
unrivaled skill, and a faith sealed by the long alliance.
Tayoga had thrown himself into the war heart and soul. Nothing could
diminish by a hair his hostility to the French and the tribes allied
with them. The deeds of Champlain and Frontenac were but of yesterday,
and the nation to which they belonged could never be a friend of the
Hodenosaunee. He trusted the Americans and the English, but his chief
devotion, by the decree of nature was for his own people, and now,
that fighting in the forest had occurred between the rival nations, he
shed more of the white ways and became a true son of the wilderness,
seeing as red men saw and thinking as red men thought.
He was bent over a little, as he walked slowly among the bushes, in
the position of one poised for instant flight or pursuit as the need
might be. His eyes, black and piercing, ranged about incessantly,
nothing escaping a vision so keen and trained so thoroughly that he
not only heard everything passing in the wilderness, but he knew the
nature of the sound, and what had made it.
The kindly look that distinguished Tayoga in repose had
disappeared. Unnumbered generations were speaking in him now, and the
Indian, often so gentle in peace, had become his usual self, stern and
unrelenting in war. His strong sharp chin was thrust forward. His
cheek bones seemed to be a little higher. His tread was so light that
the grass scarcely bent before his moccasins, and no leaves
rustled. He was in every respect the wilderness hunter and warrior,
fitted perfectly by the Supreme Hand into his setting, and if an enemy
appeared now he would fight as his people had fought for centuries,
and the customs and feelings of the new races that had come across the
ocean would be nothing to him.
A hundred yards more, and he sat down by the trunk of a great oak,
convinced that no foe was near. His own five splendid senses had told
him so, and the fact had been confirmed by an unrivaled sentinel
hidden among the leaves over his head, a small bird that poured forth
a wonderful volume of song. Were any other coming the bird would cease
his melody and fly away, but Tayoga felt that this tiny feathered
being was his ally and would not leave because of him. The song had
wonderful power, too, soothing his senses and casting a pleasing
spell. His imaginative mind, infused with the religion and beliefs of
his ancestors, filled the forest with friendly spirits. Unseen, they
hovered in the air and watched over him, and the trees, alive, bent
protecting boughs toward him. He saw, too, the very spot in the
heavens where the great shining star on which Tododaho lived came out
at night and glittered.
He remembered the time when he had gone forth in the dusk to meet
Tandakora and his friends, and how Tododaho had looked down on him
with approval. He had found favor in the sight of the great league's
founder, and the spirit that dwelt on the shining star still watched
over him. The Ojibway, whom he hated and who hated him in yet greater
measure, might be somewhere in the forest, but if he came near, the
feathered sentinel among the leaves over his head would give warning.
Tayoga sat nearly half an hour listening to the song of the bird. He
had no object in remaining there, his errand bade him move on, but
there was no hurry and he was content merely to breathe and to feel
the glory and splendor of the forest about him. He knew now that the
Indian nature had never been taken out of him by the schools. He loved
the wilderness, the trees, the lakes, the streams and all their
magnificent disorder, and war itself did not greatly trouble him,
since the legends of the tribes made it the natural state of man. He
knew well that he was in Tododaho's keeping, and, if by chance, the
great chief should turn against him it would be for some grave fault,
and he would deserve his punishment.
He sat in that absolute stillness of which the Indian by nature and
training was capable, the green of his tanned and beautifully soft
deerskin blending so perfectly with the emerald hue of the foliage
that the bird above his head at last took him for a part of the forest
itself and so, having no fear, came down within a foot of his head and
sang with more ecstasy than ever. It was a little gray bird, but
Tayoga knew that often the smaller a bird was, and the more sober its
plumage the finer was its song. He understood those musical notes
too. They expressed sheer delight, the joy of life just as he felt it
then himself, and the kinship between the two was strong.
The bird at last flew away and the Onondaga heard its song dying among
the distant leaves. A portion of the forest spell departed with it,
and Tayoga, returning to thoughts of his task, rose and walked on,
instinct rather than will causing him to keep a close watch on earth
and foliage. When he saw the faint trace of a large moccasin on the
earth all that was left of the spell departed suddenly and he became
at once the wilderness warrior, active, alert, ready to read every
sign.
He studied the imprint, which turned in, and hence had been made by an
Indian. Its great size too indicated to him that it might be that of
Tandakora, a belief becoming with him almost a certainty as he found
other and similar traces farther on. He followed them about a mile,
reaching stony ground where they vanished altogether, and then he
turned to the west.
The fact that Tandakora was so near, and might approach again was not
unpleasant to him, as Tayoga, having all the soul of a warrior, was
anxious to match himself with the gigantic Ojibway, and since the war
was now active on the border it seemed that the opportunity might
come. But his attention must be occupied with something else for the
present, and he went toward the west for a full hour through the
primeval forest. Now and then he stopped to listen, even lying down
and putting his ear to the ground, but the sounds he heard, although
varied and many, were natural to the wild.
He knew them all. The steady tapping was a woodpecker at work upon an
old tree. The faint musical note was another little gray bird singing
the delight of his soul as he perched himself upon a twig; the light
shuffling noise was the tread of a bear hunting succulent nuts; a
caw-caw so distant that it was like an echo was the voice of a
circling crow, and the tiny trickling noise that only the keenest ear
could have heard was made by a brook a yard wide taking a terrific
plunge over a precipice six inches high. The rustling, one great
blended note, universal but soft, was that of the leaves moving in
harmony before the gentle wind.
The young Onondaga was sure that the forest held no alien
presence. The traces of Tandakora were hours old, and he must now be
many miles away with his band, and, such being the case, it was fit
time for him to choose a camp and call his friends.
It pleased Tayoga, zealous of mind, to do all the work before the
others came, and, treading so lightly and delicately, that he would
not have alarmed a rabbit in the bush, he gathered together dead
sticks and heaped them in a little sunken place, clear of undergrowth.
Flint and steel soon lighted a fire, and then he sent forth his call,
the long penetrating whine of the wolf. The reply came from the north,
and, building his fire a little higher, he awaited the result, without
anxiety.
The dry wood crackled and many little flames red or yellow arose.
Tayoga heaped dead leaves against the trunk of a tree and sat down
comfortably, his shoulders and back resting against the bark. Presently
he heard the first alien sound in the forest, a light tread approaching
That he knew was Willet, and then he heard the second tread, even
lighter than the first, and he knew that it was the footstep of Robert.
"All ready! It's like you, Tayoga," said Willet, as he entered the
open space. "Here you are, with the house built and the fire burning
on the hearth!"
"I lighted the fire," said Tayoga, rising, "but Manitou made the
hearth, and built the house which is worthy of Him."
He looked with admiration at the magnificent trees spreading away on
every side, and the foliage in its most splendid, new luxuriant green.
"It is worthy, Tayoga," said Robert, whose soul was like that of the
Onondaga, "and it takes Manitou himself a century or more to grow
trees like these."
"Some of them, I dare say, are three or four hundred years old or
more," said Willet, "and the forest goes west, so I've heard the
Indians say, a matter of near two thousand miles. It's pleasant to
know that if all the axes in the world were at work it couldn't all be
cut down in our time or in the time of our children."
Tayoga's heart swelled with indignation at the idea that the forest
might be destroyed, but he said nothing, as he knew that Willet and
Robert shared his feeling.
"Here's your rifle, Tayoga," said the hunter; "I suppose you didn't
have an occasion to use your bow and arrows."
"No, Great Bear," replied the Onondaga, "but I might have had the
chance had I come earlier."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I saw on the grass a human trace. It was made by a foot clothed in a
moccasin, a large foot, a very large foot, the foot of a man whom we
all have cause to hate."
"I take it you're speaking of Tandakora, the Ojibway."
"None other. I cannot be mistaken. But the trail was cold. He and his
warriors have gone north. They may be thirty, forty miles from here."
"Likely enough, Tayoga. They're on their way to join the force the
French are sending to the fort at the junction of the Monongahela and
the Alleghany. Perhaps St. Luc--and there isn't a cleverer officer in
this continent--is with them. I tell you, Tayoga, and you too, Robert,
I don't like it! That young Washington ought to have been sent earlier
into the Ohio country, and they should have given him a much larger
force. We're sluggards and all our governors are sluggards, except
maybe Shirley of Massachusetts. With the war just blazing up the
French are already in possession, and we're to drive 'em out, which
doubles our task. It was a great victory for us to keep the
Hodenosaunee on our side, or, in the main, neutral, but it's going to
be uphill work for us to win. The young French leaders are genuine
kings of the wilderness. You know that, Robert, as well as I do."
"Yes," said the youth. "I know they're the men whom the English
colonies have good cause to fear."
When he spoke he was thinking of St. Luc, as he had last seen him in
the vale of Onondaga, defeated in the appeal to the fifty sachems, but
gallant, well bred, showing nothing of chagrin, and sure to be a
formidable foe on the field of battle. He was an enemy of whom one
could be proud, and Robert felt an actual wish to see him again, even
though in opposing ranks.
"We may come into contact with some of 'em," said the hunter. "The
French are using all their influence over the Indians, and are
directing their movements. I know that St. Luc, Jumonville, Beaujeu,
Dumas, De Villiers, De Courcelles and all their best men are in the
forest. It's likely that Tandakora, fierce and wild as he is, is
acting under the direction of some Frenchman. St. Luc could control
him."
Robert thought it highly probable that the chevalier was in truth with
the Indians on the border, either leading some daring band or
gathering the warriors to the banner of France. His influence with
them would be great, as he understood their ways, adapted himself to
them and showed in battle a skill and daring that always make a
powerful appeal to the savage heart. The youth had matched himself
against St. Luc in the test of words in the vale of Onondaga, and now
he felt that he must match himself anew, but in the test of forest
war.
Tayoga having lighted the fire, the hunter cooked the food over it,
while the two youths reposed calmly. Robert watched Willet with
interest, and he was impressed for the thousandth time by his great
strength, and the lightness of his movements. When he was younger, the
disparity in years had made him think of Willet as an old man, but he
saw now that he was only in early middle age. There was not a gray
hair on his head, and his face was free from wrinkles.
An extraordinarily vivid memory of that night in Quebec when the
hunter had faced Boucher, the bully and bravo, reputed the best
swordsman of France, leaped up in Robert's mind. He had found no time
to think of Willet's past recently and he realized now that he knew
little about it. The origin of that hunter was as obscure as his
own. But the story of the past and its mysteries must wait. The
present was so great and overwhelming that it blotted out everything
else.
"The venison and the bacon are ready," said Willet, "and you two lads
can fall on. You're not what I'd call epicures, but I've never known
your appetites to fail."
"Nor will they," said Robert, as he and Tayoga helped
themselves. "What's the news from Britain, Dave? You must have heard a
lot when you were in Albany."
"It's vague, Robert, vague. The English are slow, just as we Americans
are, too. They're going to send out troops, but the French have
dispatched a fleet and regiments already. The fact that our colonies
are so much larger than theirs is perhaps an advantage to them, as it
gives them a bigger target to aim at, and our people who are trying to
till their farms, will be struck down by their Indians from ambush."
"And you see now what a bulwark the great League of the Hodenosaunee
is to the English," said Tayoga.
"A fact that I've always foreseen," said Willet warmly. "Nobody knows
better than I do the power of the Six Nations, and nobody has ever
been readier to admit it."
"I know, Great Bear. You have always been our true friend. If all the
white men were like you no trouble would ever arise between them and
the Hodenosaunee."
Robert finished his food and resumed a comfortable place against a
tree. Willet put out the fire and he and Tayoga sat down in like
fashion. Their trees were close together, but they did not talk
now. Each was absorbed in his own thoughts and Robert had much to
think about.
The war was going slowly. He had believed a great flare would come at
once and that everybody would soon be in the thick of action, but
since young Washington had been defeated by Coulon de Villiers at the
Great Meadows the British Colonies had spent much time debating and
pulling in different directions. The union for which his eager soul
craved did not come, and the shadow of the French power in the north,
reinforced by innumerable savages, hung heavy and black over the
land. Every runner brought news of French activities. Rumor painted as
impregnable the fort they had built where two rivers uniting formed
the Ohio, and it was certain that many bands already ranged down in
the regions the English called their own.
Spring had lingered far into summer where they were, and the foliage
was not yet touched by heat. All the forest was in deep and heavy
green, hiding every object a hundred yards away, but from their
opening they saw a blue and speckless sky, which the three by and by
watched attentively, and with the same motive. Before the dark had
begun to come in the east they saw a thin dark line drawn slowly
across it, the trail of smoke. It might not have been noticed by eyes
less keen, but they understood at once that it was a signal. Robert
noted its drifting progress across the heavens, and then he said to
Willet:
"How far from here do you calculate the base of that smoke is, Dave?"
"A long distance, Robert. Several miles maybe. The fire, I've no
doubt, was kindled on top of a hill. It may be French speaking to
Indians, or Indians talking to Indians."
"And you don't think it's people of ours?"
"I'm sure it isn't. We've no hunters or runners in these parts, except
ourselves."
"And it's not Tandakora," said the Onondaga. "He must be much farther
away."
"But the signal may be intended for him," said the hunter. "It may be
carried to him by relays of smoke. I wish I could read that trail
across the sky."
"It's thinning out fast," said Robert. "You can hardly see it! and now
it's gone entirely!"
But the hunter continued to look thoughtfully at the sky, where the
smoke had been. He never underrated the activity of the French, and he
believed that a movement of importance, something the nature of which
they should discover was at hand.
"Lads," he said, "I expected an easy night of good sleep for all three
of us, but I'm thinking instead that we'd better take to the trail,
and travel toward the place where that smoke was started."
"It's what scouts would do," said Tayoga tersely.
"And such we claim to be," said Robert.
As the sun began to sink they saw far in the west another smoke, that
would have been invisible had it not been outlined against a fiery red
sky, across which it lay like a dark thread. It was gone in a few
moments, and then the dusk began to come.
"An answer to the first signal," said Tayoga. "It is very likely that
a strong force is gathering. Perhaps Tandakora has come back and is
planning a blow."
"It can't be possible that they're aiming it at us," said the hunter,
thoughtfully. "They don't know of our presence here, and if they did
we've too small a party for such big preparations."
"Perhaps a troop of Pennsylvanians are marching westward," said
Tayoga, "and the French and their allies are laying a trap for them."
"Then," said Robert, "there is but one thing for us to do. We must
warn our friends and save them from the snare."
"Of course," said Willet, "but we don't know where they are, and
meanwhile we'd better wait an hour or two. Perhaps something will
happen that will help us to locate them."
Robert and Tayoga nodded and the three remained silent while the night
came. The blazing red in the west faded rapidly and darkness swept
down over the wilderness. The three, each leaning against his tree,
did not move but kept their rifles across their knees ready at once
for possible use. Tayoga had fastened his bow over his back by the
side of his quiver, and their packs were adjusted also.
Robert was anxious not so much for himself as for the unknown others
who were marching through the wilderness, and for whom the French and
Indians were laying an ambush. It had been put forward first as a
suggestion, but it quickly became a conviction with him, and he felt
that his comrades and he must act as if it were a certainty. But no
sound that would tell them which way to go came out of this black
forest, and they remained silent, waiting for the word.
The night thickened and they were still uncertain what to do. Robert
made a silent prayer to the God of the white man, the Manitou of the
red man, for a sign, but none came, and infected strongly as he was
with the Indian philosophy and religion, he felt that it must be due
to some lack of virtue in himself. He searched his memory, but he
could not discover in what particular he had erred, and he was forced
to continue his anxious waiting, until the stars should choose to
fight for him.
Tayoga too was troubled, his mind in its own way being as active as
Robert's. He knew all the spirits of earth, air and water were abroad,
but he hoped at least one of them would look upon him with favor, and
give him a warning. He sought Tododaho's star in the heavens, but the
clouds were too thick, and, eye failing, he relied upon his ear for
the signal which he and his young white comrade sought so earnestly.
If Tayoga had erred either in omission or commission then the spirits
that hovered about him forgave him, as when the night was thickest
they gave the sign. It was but the faint fall of a foot, and, at
first, he thought a bear or a deer had made it, but at the fourth or
fifth fall he knew that it was a human footstep and he whispered to
his comrades:
"Some one comes!"
As if by preconcerted signal the three arose and crept silently into
the dense underbrush, where they crouched, their rifles thrust
forward.
"It is but one man and he walks directly toward us," whispered Tayoga.
"I hear him now," said Robert. "He is wearing moccasins, as his step
is too light for boots."
"Which means that he's a rover like ourselves," said Willet. "Now he's
stopped. There isn't a sound. The man, whoever he is, has taken alarm,
or at least he's decided that it's best for him to be more
watchful. Perhaps he's caught a whiff from the ashes of our fire. He's
white or he wouldn't be here alone, and he's used to the forest, or he
wouldn't have suspected a presence from so little."
"The Great Bear thinks clearly," said Tayoga. "It is surely a white
man and some great scout or hunter. He moved a little now to the
right, because I heard his buckskin brush lightly against a bush. I
think Great Bear is right about the fire. The wind has brought the
ashes from it to his nostrils, and he will lie in the bush long before
moving."
"Which doesn't suit our plans at all," said Willet. "There's a
chance, just a chance, that I may know who he is. White men of the
kind to go scouting through the wilderness are not so plenty on the
border that one has to make many guesses. You lads move away a little
so you won't be in line if a shot comes, and I'll give a signal."
Robert and Tayoga crept to other points in the brush, and the hunter
uttered a whistle, low but very clear and musical. In a moment or two,
a like answer came from a place about a hundred yards away, and Willet
rising, advanced without hesitation. Robert and Tayoga followed
promptly, and a tall figure, emerging from the darkness, came forward
to meet them.
The stranger was a man of middle years, and of a singularly wild
appearance. His eyes roved continually, and were full of suspicion,
and of a sort of smoldering anger, as if he had a grievance against
all the world. His hair was long and tangled, his face brown with sun
and storm, and his dress more Indian than white. He was heavily armed,
and, whether seen in the dusk or in the light, his whole aspect was
formidable and dangerous. But Willet continued to advance without
hesitation.
"Captain Jack," he said extending his hand. "We were not looking for
you tonight, but no man could be more welcome. These are young friends
of mine, brave warriors both, the white and the red, Robert Lennox,
who is almost a son to me, and Tayoga, the Onondaga, to whom I feel
nearly like a father too."
Now Robert knew him, and he felt a thrill of surprise, and of the most
intense curiosity. Who along the whole border had not heard of Captain
Jack, known also as the Black Hunter, the Black Rifle and by many
other names? The tale had been told in every cabin in the woods how
returning home, he had found his wife and children tomahawked and
scalped, and how he had taken a vow of lifelong vengeance upon the
Indians, a vow most terribly kept. In all the villages in the Ohio
country and along the Great Lakes, the name of Black Rifle was spoken
with awe and terror. No more singular and ominous figure ever crossed
the pages of border story.
He swept the two youths with questing glances, but they met his gaze
firmly, and while his eye had clouded at first sight of the Onondaga
the threatening look soon passed.
"Friends of yours are friends of mine, Dave Willet," he said. "I know
you to be a good man and true, and once when I was at Albany I heard
of Robert Lennox, and of the great young warrior, Tayoga, of the clan
of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the
Hodenosaunee."
The young Onondaga's eyes flashed with pleasure, but he was silent.
"How does it happen, Willet?" asked Black Rifle, "that we meet here in
the forest at such a time?"
"We're on our way to the Ohio country to learn something about the
gathering of the French and Indian forces. Just before sundown we saw
smoke signals and we think our enemies are planning to cut off a force
of ours, somewhere here in the forest."
Black Rifle laughed, but it was not a pleasant laugh. It had in it a
quality that made Robert shudder.
"Your guesses are good, Dave," said Black Rifle. "About fifty men of
the Pennsylvania militia are in camp on the banks of a little creek
two miles from here. They have been sent out to guard the farthest
settlements. Think of that, Dave! They're to be a guard against the
French and Indians!"
His face contracted into a wry smile, and Robert understood his
feeling of derision for the militia.
"As I told you, they're in camp," continued Black Rifle. "They built a
fire there to cook their supper, and to show the French and Indians
where they are, lest they miss 'em in the darkness. They don't know
what part of the country they're in, but they're sure it's a long
distance west of Philadelphia, and if the Indians will only tell 'em
when they're coming they'll be ready for 'em. Oh, they're brave
enough! They'll probably all die with their faces to the enemy."
He spoke with grim irony and Robert shuddered. He knew how helpless
men from the older parts of the country were in the depths of the
wilderness, and he was sure that the net was already being drawn about
the Pennsylvanians.
"Are the French here too, Black Rifle?" asked Willet.
The strange man pointed toward the north.
"A band led by a Frenchman is there," he replied. "He is the most
skillful of all their men in the forest, the one whom they call
St. Luc."
"I thought so!" exclaimed Robert. "I believed all the while he would
be here. I've no doubt he will direct the ambush."
"We must warn this troop," said Willet, "and save 'em if they will let
us. You agree with me, don't you, Tayoga?"
"The Great Bear is right."
"And you'll back me up, of course, Robert. Will you help us too, Black
Rifle?"
The singular man smiled again, but his smile was not like that of
anybody else. It was sinister and full of menace. It was the smile of
a man who rejoiced in sanguinary work, and it made Robert think again
of his extraordinary history, around which the border had built so
much of truth and legend.
"I will help, of course," he replied. "It's my trade. It was my
purpose to warn 'em before I met you, but I feared they would not
listen to me. Now, the words of four may sound more real to 'em than
the words of one."
"Then lead the way," said Willet. "'Tis not a time to linger."
Black Rifle, without another word, threw his rifle over his shoulder
and started toward the north, the others falling into Indian file
behind him. A light, pleased smile played over his massive and rugged
features. More than the rest he rejoiced in the prospect of combat.
They did not seek battle and they fought only when they were compelled
to do so, but he, with his whole nature embittered forever by that
massacre of long ago, loved it for its own sake. He had ranged the
border, a torch of fire, for years, and now he foresaw more of the
revenge that he craved incessantly.
He led without hesitation straight toward the north. All four were
accomplished trailers and the flitting figures were soundless as they
made their swift march through the forest. In a half hour they reached
the crest of a rather high hill and Black Rifle, stopping, pointed
with a long forefinger toward a low and dim light.
"The camp of the Pennsylvanians," he said with bitter irony. "As I
told you, fearing lest the savages should miss 'em in the forest they
keep their fire burning as a beacon."
"Don't be too hard on 'em, Black Rifle," said Willet. "Maybe they
come from Philadelphia itself, and city bred men can scarcely be
expected to learn all about the wilderness in a few days."
"They'll learn, when it's too late, at the muzzles of the French and
Indian rifles," rejoined Black Rifle, abating a little his tone of
savage derision.
"At least they're likely to be brave men," said Willet, "and now what
do you think will be our best manner of approaching 'em?"
"We'll walk directly toward their fire, the four of us abreast. They'll
blaze away all fifty of 'em together, as soon as they see us, but the
darkness will spoil their aim, and at least one of us will be left
alive, able to walk, and able to tell 'em of their danger. We don't
know who'll be the lucky man, but we'll see."
"Come, come, Captain Jack! Give 'em a chance! They may be a more
likely lot than you think. You three wait here and I'll go forward and
announce our coming. I dare say we'll be welcome."
Willet advanced boldly toward the fire, which he soon saw consisted of
a great bed of coals, surrounded by sleepers. But the figures of men,
pacing back and forth, showed that the watch had not been neglected,
although in the deep forest such sentinels would be but little
protection against the kind of ambush the French and Indians were able
to lay.
Not caring to come within the circle of light lest he be fired upon,
the hunter whistled, and when he saw that the sentinels were at
attention he whistled again. Then he emerged from the bushes, and
walked boldly toward the fire.
"Who are you?" a voice demanded sharply, and a young man in a fine
uniform stood up in front of the fire. The hunter's quick and
penetrating look noted that he was tall, built well, and that his face
was frank and open.
"My name is David Willet," he replied, "and I am sometimes called by
my friends, the Iroquois, the Great Bear. Behind me in the woods are
three comrades, young Robert Lennox, of New York and Albany; Tayoga, a
young warrior of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the
great League of the Hodenosaunee, and the famous hunter and border
fighter, of whom everybody has heard, Captain Jack, Black Hunter, or
Black Rifle as he has been called variously."
"I know the name," replied the young man, "and yours too, Mr.
Willet. My own is Colden, James Colden of Philadelphia, and I am in
command of this troop, sent to guard the farthest settlements against
the French and Indians. Will you call your comrades, Mr. Willet? All
of you are welcome."
The hunter whistled again, and Robert, Tayoga and Black Rifle,
advancing from the forest, came within the area of half light cast by
the glow from the coals, young Captain Colden watching them with the
most intense curiosity as they approached. And well he might feel
surprise. All, even Robert, wore the dress of the wilderness, and
their appearance at such a time was uncommon and striking. Most of the
soldiers had been awakened by the voices, and were sitting up, rubbing
sleepy eyes. Robert saw at once that they were city men, singularly
out of place in the vast forest and the darkness.
"We welcome you to our camp," said young Captain Colden, with dignity.
"If you are hungry we have food, and if you are without blankets we
can furnish them to you."
Willet and Tayoga looked at Robert and he knew they expected him to
fill his usual role of spokesman. The words rushed to his lips, but
they were held there by embarrassment. The soldiers who had been
awakened were already going back to sleep. Captain Colden sat down on
a log and waited for them to state their wants. Then Robert spoke,
knowing they could not afford to delay.
"We thank you, Captain Colden," he said, "for the offer of supper and
bed, but I must say to you, sir, that it's no time for either."
"I don't take your meaning, Mr. Lennox."
"Tayoga, Mr. Willet and Black Rifle, are the best scouts in the
wilderness, and before sunset they saw smoke on the horizon. Then they
saw smoke answering smoke, and Black Rifle has seen more. The French
and Indians, sir, are in the forest, and they're led, too, by
Frenchmen."
Young James Colden was a brave man, and his eyes glittered.
"We ask nothing better than to meet 'em," he said, "At the first
breath of dawn we'll march against 'em, if your friends will only be
so good as to show us the way."
"It's not a matter of waiting until dawn, nor even of going to meet
'em. They'll bring the battle to us. You and your force, Captain
Colden, are surrounded already."
The young captain stared at Robert, but his eyes were full of
incredulity. Several of the soldiers were standing near, and they too
heard, but the warning found no answer in their minds. Robert looked
around at the men asleep and the others ready to follow them, and,
despite his instinctive liking for Colden, his anger began to rise.
"I said that you were surrounded," he repeated sharply, "and it's no
time, Captain Colden, for unbelief! Mr. Willet, Tayoga and I saw the
signals of the enemy, but Black Rifle here has looked upon the
warriors themselves. They're led too by the French, and the best of
all the French forest captains, St. Luc, is undoubtedly with them off
there."
He waved his hand toward the north, and a little of the high color
left Colden's face. The youth's manner was so earnest and his words
were spoken with so much power of conviction that they could not fail
to impress.
"You really mean that the French and Indians are here, that they're
planning to attack us tonight?" said the Philadelphian.
"Beyond a doubt and we must be prepared to meet them."
Colden took a few steps back and forth, and then, like the brave young
man he was, he swallowed his pride.
"I confess that I don't know much of the forest, nor do my men," he
said, "and so I shall have to ask you four to help me."
"We'll do it gladly," said Robert. "What do you propose, Dave?"
"I think we'd better draw off some distance from the fire," replied
the hunter. "To the right there is a low hill, covered with thick
brush, and old logs thrown down by an ancient storm. It's the very
place."
"Then," said Captain Colden briskly, "we'll occupy it inside of five
minutes. Up, men, up!"
The sleepers were awakened rapidly, and, although they were awkward
and made much more noise than was necessary, they obeyed their
captain's sharp order, and marched away with all their arms and stores
to the thicket on the hill, where, as Willet had predicted, they found
also a network of fallen trees, affording a fine shelter and
defense. Here they crouched and Willet enjoined upon them the
necessity of silence.
"Sir," said young Captain Colden, again putting down his pride, "I beg
to thank you and your comrades."
"You don't owe us any thanks. It's just what we ought to have done,"
said Willet lightly. "The wilderness often turns a false face to those
who are not used to it, and if we hadn't warned you we'd have deserved
shooting."
The faint whine of a wolf came from a point far in the north.
"It's one of their signals," said Willet. "They'll attack inside of an
hour."
Then they relapsed into silence and waited, every heart beating hard.