Flight by Night
As the dusk came and settled down upon the peaceful town of Albany,
it found the little band of trappers seated about their camp fire,
smoking heavily and discussing the question of their flight in earnest
and low-pitched tones. They had already taken their evening meal, and
were ready to set out at any moment. But so far there was not a sign
of preparation. To the casual or the curious onlooker, the little
party seemed to have every intention of remaining overnight, more
particularly as the sky was overcast, and the rude leather shanty
which they had been busily erecting showed that they expected rain,
and had prepared a shelter.
"You wouldn't think that there was a question of danger or of our
clearing out, boys," said Judge Mainwaring, as he stared round at his
comrades. "This town of Albany looks as peaceful as possible, and
yet----"
"And yet the facts are clear," burst in Steve. "I suppose that if
Albany were filled with Englishmen it would be a different matter."
"That it would, young 'un," chimed in Jim, taking the stem of his
black pipe from between his teeth. "And there ain't no sayin' that
these Dutchmen wouldn't help us ef we went to 'em. But they ain't here
to fight. Reckon they're fer trade. Ef it was our own people, why we'd
get 'em together, and them varmint out in the woods would soon be
scattered."
"As it is there is no chance of doing that," said Tom Mainwaring
quietly. "I've been thinking this out, boys. If we went to the Dutch
I doubt very much that they would move to help us. They are traders,
as Jim says, and though I believe they are certainly on our side and
opposed to the French and their Indians, yet at the present time even
that is not too certain. We've got to depend on ourselves. We might
wait here for a week, but this rascal Lapon will wait also, and he
will watch us like a hawk. We must move, and this very night too, for
at present they think no doubt that we do not know of the existence of
this band. If we wait they may suspect us----"
"There's the scout we killed," ventured Steve.
"True, there is the scout. They will find him by to-morrow morning,
and then they will watch us all the closer. It will rain soon, and we
must move."
"Hold hard," said Jim suddenly. "We've got to git, that's as clear as
this fire, but thar's that 'ere redskin watchin'. It 'ud take him an
hour perhaps to get back to his camp and then the hull lot 'ud be down
on us."
That was a point which none had considered, and for a little while
they sat staring into the embers, doubtful how to act. In these days
of peace, when the neighbourhood of Albany is as secure as that of New
York or of London, and when the banks of the Hudson and the Mohawk and
the country adjacent are comparatively thickly populated, it is hard
to believe that a party of trappers could be in danger of attack. But
in the year 1756 it was very different. Thick forest spread over the
land, with very few settlements, and still fewer log huts. In time
past many and many a pioneer and trapper had forced his way far on
into the valley of the Ohio, that promised land, and had there erected
his rough shelter. But there were competitors in the field. France
was not content with that huge stretch of America to the north of the
St. Lawrence and the great lakes. She was pushing south, building
forts and peopling the land. For some years, as the reader will have
already gathered, these hardy French soldiers and _voyageurs_, with
their fierce Indians, had been pressing south and west, exterminating
the helpless British colonists. The man who dared to step outside the
towns and plunge into the forests took his life in his hands. Bands
of desperadoes wandered hither and thither, and the old calling of
the trapper was almost extinct. It was therefore not so wonderful to
find danger threatening Steve and his friends on the very outskirts of
Albany.
"Oi'd loike to hear what Silver Fox and Talkin' Bear has to say,"
sang out Mac, thrusting his red head into the full light of the fire.
"They have sat there loike two logs of wood, and sure they've not yit
opened their mouths. Let thim spake and we'll listen."
"Then what shall we do, Fox?" demanded Jim, breaking into the Mohawk.
"You know what's happening."
"It will rain to-night, my brothers," was the answer, "and we must go.
But this scout must die before we venture from the camp. Talking Bear
and Silver Fox will see to this matter."
He glanced round at each one of the party, grunted and nodded to his
countryman.
"It is well spoken, brother. He must die," was the short answer.
"Then we'll turn in," said Jim.
One by one the white men of the party stood up, looked about them and
then crept into the "shanty," for rain had already begun to fall. And
soon Silver Fox joined them, while outside, swathed in his blanket,
motionless, stood Talking Bear, guarding the camp during the first
hours of the night. His figure was hardly distinguishable even against
the dull light of the fire, but all knew that the Indian watcher
had his eyes on him. And so two hours passed, till the embers were
drenched, and the night was very dark. Not till then was there a
movement in the tiny shanty. Steve sat up beside Silver Fox, returned
the pressure of his hand and slipped from the cover. Crawling across
the camp he touched Talking Bear, and in an instant they had changed
places. Steve was now the sentry, swathed in a blanket, tall and
erect. Almost at the same instant there was the hoot of an owl away in
the forest.
"Them 'ere critters has jest the finest eyes," growled Jim. "Reckon
though that they heard somethin'. There goes Silver Fox. We'll give
him an hour."
But less than half an hour had passed before the silence of their camp
was disturbed. First came the loud hoot of an owl, and then away in
the forest was heard the sound of a conflict. Branches snapped, there
was a dull thud, and then silence again.
"We have failed. The scalp of this scout who watched the camp hangs at
my belt, but he had two others with him. They are gone."
Silver Fox had made not so much as a sound on his return, and his
voice was the first thing that warned the occupants of his presence.
They sat up with a start while various exclamations burst from them.
"There is not a moment to be lost," said Tom, with decision. "We must
pack and paddle for our lives. That band will never rest till they
have the scalps of every one of this party."
There was unusual bustle in the camp at once, the members of the party
going about their work with method and in perfect silence. Mac and
Steve soon had the leather shelter stripped and folded, and by the
time they had carried it down to the canoes, the others had placed
all their goods in the smaller one. Then they took their places, and
at a word from Tom they pushed out from the bank, Steve sitting in
the second canoe, his musket across his thighs and his eyes glued on
the bank. The five in the leading canoe grasped their paddles and
used them with a will, Tom setting the time, and pushing the water
back with lusty arms which aided not a little in their progress. They
swung up the centre of the stream, turned to their left and entered
the Mohawk. Morning found them many miles on their way, still paddling
steadily up the centre of the river.
"It were well to consider, my brothers," said Silver Fox, speaking
for the first time since they had left Albany. "The sky is clearer,
and the rain no longer falls. At present the mist hides us, but in a
little while the warmth will suck it up and then we shall be seen."
"And yer think them critters is after us?" demanded Jim.
"They left their camp within the hour of our departure," was the slow
answer. "They are now well on their way."
Jim had had no need to ask that simple question. As an old and
experienced trapper he knew well enough that the alarm must have
reached the camp of the enemy within a very little while of their own
departure, and it needed no consideration to tell him that they would
make up the Mohawk river.
"They kin tell as we ain't got no business towards New York," he
growled, "and this here route air the only one that's left. Reckon
the varmint air well on the road. They'll have canoes hid somewhere's
within reach, and it won't be long afore they're out on the river.
Boys, we've got to choose between holdin' on to those paddles or
takin' to the woods."
"Lose all our stores!" demanded Mac, indignantly. "Sure if we take to
the forest we'll have to lave these canoes and the things, and for
what is the use of that? Arrah! Lit's kape to the paddles, and if they
follow we'll use our guns."
"You forget one thing," said Tom Mainwaring, in his quiet and judicial
tones. "We have paddled through the night. These rascals have been
walking and running. Their arms will be unwearied. They will certainly
overhaul us. There is nothing for it, I fear, but to strike across to
the south bank, hide our canoes and stores as well as we are able, and
then take to the trail."
There was, indeed, little else to be suggested, and it was with sad
hearts therefore that the little party turned the bows of the canoe
towards the far bank. It was lighter now, though the mist still hid
them, an occasional gust of wind blowing a portion of it away, for all
the world as if it were a curtain, and disclosing something of their
whereabouts, the surface of the silent river, the far bank, or the
forest on that side for which they were making.
"Steady a minute. Stop!"
It was Steve's voice which broke the silence, and as they craned
their necks to look back at him, they saw the long figure of the young
trapper stretched in the small canoe, his musket still across his
thighs and one hand upon it. The other shaded his eyes, as if the mist
worried him.
"Stop!" he called again in the lowest tone. "Wait while I come up with
you."
There was a paddle beside him, placed there to enable him to steer
if occasion should make that necessary, and while his friends backed
water, he drove his paddle into the river and swung his canoe round
till it lay alongside the other. To have endeavoured to bring it up
directly would have been useless, for a short tow rope connected the
two.
"You said that they would have canoes somewhere within reach," he
said. "I overheard it, and I believe I have seen the very spot. The
wind blew the mist aside suddenly, and I saw a tiny inlet. It is
blocked with weeds and osiers, and they too were disturbed by the
wind. I am sure that I got a glimpse of the bow of a canoe."
"Jupiter! That's a find," burst out Jim, while Tom and Mac nodded
approvingly. "Reckon we'll git across to them boats and break 'em up.
Boys, that air our ticket."
He plunged his paddle into the water, followed by the others, and
would have swung the canoe round had not Steve still clung to the side.
"One moment, Jim," he said easily and quietly, for he had inherited
his father's quiet and judicial manner. "Supposing you smash their
canoes. What then?"
Jim gasped. "What then! Why, they're fixed, young 'un. Thought you was
'cute. They ain't got no way left of followin', unless they runs like
dogs along the bank, and for that we don't care nothin'."
"That is, supposing they have no other canoes," answered Steve
quickly. "But is that likely. They know that if their boats are
discovered they are helpless. It seems to me that they may very well
have divided them. That's what we should do. In that case they would
still have a chance of reaching us."
"That 'ere lad air doin' his best to get even with the Judge,"
exclaimed Jim with a shake of his head. "Reckon, boys, that what he
says air true as gospel. Them critters will never have put all their
boats in one place. We'd best make for the forest straight."
Once more he would have swung the canoe away from Steve, but the lad
still clung to the side.
"We might try a surprise," he said eagerly. "These men will follow us
right away to the settlement, for Jules Lapon lives near there. We
can't go on like this for the next ten days, and if we don't stop them
they will be close to us before to-day is past. Let us wait and have
it out with the rascals."
This time there was no attempt to break away from him. All stared
eagerly into his sun-tanned face, while an exclamation burst from Jim.
"The boy has an idea," said Tom. "Out with it, Steve."
There was no time to waste, for even as they had hung in the stream,
drifting with the current, the mist had lifted still further. The sun
would be up very soon, and at any moment it might be clear from shore
to shore. Steve leaned over the side of his canoe and spoke swiftly
and in little more than a whisper.
"I've been thinking it over as we came along," he said. "We've no
chance unless we can stop them now, for they are many, and will follow
closely, and never give us a moment's rest. We shall be shot down and
scalped one after another. I thought of their boats and what we might
do. Then I suddenly caught sight of the bows of the one of which I
spoke. Listen! This wind and the rustling of the leaves will have
drowned the sound of our paddles. Even if the redskins are now on the
far bank I doubt whether they have heard us. But they are not there.
We have come faster than a man can walk, and you must remember that
they will have had to make their way through the forest. Let us get
over to their boats, slip ashore without leaving tracks, and hide up
under cover. Once we're there one of us can slip back to this bank
with our canoes, and can hide them, just leaving the bows of one to
show, as if by accident."
"Thunder! The lad's got it, Judge. Reckon you ain't in it with Steve.
Boys, he's told us what to do."
Jim sat up stiffly in his astonishment, while Silver Fox, who could
understand English, gave a grunt of assent.
"He was always a calculating, thoughtful youngster," said Tom, a note
of triumph in his voice. "The lad has suggested a brilliant plan."
Trappers were in the habit of making up their minds in a rapid manner.
Often enough there was no opportunity for discussion, and even when
there was they were not over talkative. Jim was perhaps the exception.
But now there was no need for chatter, and little time for delay. The
paddles plunged into the stream again, Steve pushed out from the large
canoe, and in a trice they were surging through the stream in the
direction of the opposite bank. A little later they were in sight of
it, and were paddling along beneath the overhanging trees.
"Jest about here?" asked Jim, his voice hardly a whisper, while his
hand pointed to the bank.
Steve stood up carefully in his frail support. His eyes were glued on
the bank and for some minutes he remained without movement, while the
canoes slid along through the water. Then, suddenly, his hand went
up. There was a bank of reeds and osiers, with a patch of wild rice
clinging to the edge, and a gust of wind happening to blow across the
water at that moment all saw the nose of an Indian canoe. Standing
still higher Steve was able to get a better view than his comrades,
and caught sight of four other canoes, all nestling in the osiers.
"We can't land here," he sang out softly. "The bank is bare of brush
and all trampled. Backwater and strike higher up the river."
Round swung the canoes and paddles sent the water frothing alongside
the frail vessels, for excitement was high, and all were eager to get
under cover.
"Them 'ere varmint might come along any time," said Jim impatiently.
"Reckon this air a find!"
"We can land there," whispered Tom, pointing to the bank. "There is a
rock, and perhaps deep water beside it."
A few strokes of the paddles settled the question. There were quite
three feet of water beside the rock, which was bare and brown. It ran
up on to the bank for some ten feet, and then gave place to dense
forest.
"Step ashore," said Jim, huskily. "Gently. Don't let the canoe strike
agin the rock, nor a paddle splash it. Them varmint'd spot it in a
jiffy. Talkin' Baar, reckon you're the one to git over to the other
bank."
In rapid tones he explained the movement required of him to the silent
Indian, speaking in the Mohawk tongue. There was a nod of approval,
and without a word the feathered redskin took up his paddle again and,
pushing out from the rock, made off across the river, the smaller
canoe with its load of stores trailing after him. In a little while
he was lost in the mist, while none could hear the dip of his paddle.
But presently, as the sun rose and sucked up the vapours lying like a
pall over forest and river, Steve and his comrades could see just the
tip of a canoe protruding from a thick mass of bush which clothed the
opposite bank.
"Reckon a baby Injun'd spot that," said Jim. "To look at it you'd say
as the wind or the wash of the water had shook it loose from the mud
and floated it out. These critters will see it right off, and will try
to slip over without a sound, so as to fall upon our party. Reckon
there'll be a surprise. Now, what's the ticket?"
"Let the boy tell us," whispered Tom, looking proudly at Steve. "We
owe this movement to him, and I think we all agree that he has had
good experience of the forest and of these Indians. Now, lad, where
are we to take up our stations?"
For answer Steve placed his musket on the rock, and, stepping softly
across it, swung himself into a tree, a branch of which overhung their
position. They watched him as he clambered up still higher and waited
patiently for him to descend.
"I vote that we divide," he said, as he dropped on to the rock again.
"When the enemy arrive and see the canoe over yonder they will be
all keenness to cross. They will think that we are lying hid in the
forest, and will guess that once they are out in the river they will
be seen. But remember that our canoes are supposed to be hidden away.
If we were over yonder, lying up in the bushes, we should keep under
cover and watch, hoping to escape discovery. These Indians will reckon
that, and I think will paddle down the far side, staring into the
bank. As soon as they get opposite our canoes, they will paddle in
with a rush."
"Thet air reason," exclaimed Jim. "What then?"
"My argument proves that they will be careful to get aboard on this
side without making too much noise. They will try to let it appear
that they have not seen our canoe. They will enter their own and push
out stealthily, for they are cunning."
"Cunnin'!" Jim clenched a huge brown fist, and would have growled out
something more had not Tom's warning hand restrained him.
"That will be our time. The bank of osiers is big, and they have
hidden up their canoes almost in the centre. So there will be room for
one gun in that direction. Then this tree commands their boats, and
has the advantage of being very thick. Supposing we divide forces, two
going into the reeds, and three into the tree? The three can swing
themselves up without leaving a trace, while the two who make for the
reeds can wade through the water."
"The boy is right. Even you or I could not have made better
suggestions," exclaimed Tom. "Let us get into our places."
At any moment now the enemy might put in an appearance, and fearful of
being discovered the whole party went to their places at once, Steve
swinging himself into the tree after his father and Silver Fox, while
Jim and Mac lowered themselves very silently into the river, which
came to their waists, and wading along entered the reeds. There they
took up a position which enabled them to command the canoes, while
they could see, and be seen by, their friends. And as they crouched
in their lairs the sun rose higher and higher, while the heat grew
greater. The air over forest and river became motionless, what breeze
there had been dying down entirely. Not a leaf stirred, while the
hundreds of birds which had heralded the morning with their bright
song seemed to have gone to roost again.
"Hist! That bird flew from down stream," whispered Tom, suddenly, as a
pigeon darted over the water and flew past their hiding place. "We can
expect the enemy. Watch the banks carefully."
But half an hour passed without another disturbance, and though all
strained their ears nothing could be heard. From his leafy perch
Steve saw Jim crouching in the osiers, and noticed that the cunning
backwoodsman turned towards the far bank, leaning in that direction
in a listening attitude. But evidently he heard nothing, for within a
minute he was engaged with the near bank, his eyes peering between the
osiers and the reeds. This was not the first time that Steve had been
pursued by the redskins, and his adventurous life in the woods had
taught him to maintain his coolness. But on this occasion, do what he
would, his heart would thump heavily against his ribs, while his pulse
throbbed in an unusual and disturbing manner. He stood in the lowest
fork of the tree, his back supported by the trunk, his musket in his
hands, and his eye roaming hither and thither. His lips were slightly
parted, and there was a determined look on his sun-browned features.
He felt no actual fear, only unusual excitement, and a vague wonder as
to what would be the end of this conflict. All through the night as
he lay in the canoe he had been thinking the matter out. He and all
his comrades were well aware of the evil reputation of Jules Lapon's
band, and to Steve it had become abundantly clear that, strive as
they might, they could not hope to reach their journey's end without
molestation. The enemy were too many. They travelled light, while he
and his friends carried stores, to which they were absolutely bound to
cling, for without them they could not exist through the winter. Then
surely it would be better to meet this band of rascals now, while they
too were fresh, and do their best to beat them.
"I am sure it is the right movement," he said to himself. "We have
a good chance of taking them by surprise, and an ambush is just the
thing to upset these redskins. If we can kill a few the rest may give
up the attempt. What is that?"
He started and leaned forward to look at Jim. The old trapper had
turned right round and was again staring at the far bank. Steve saw
him grip his musket barrel, and then signal to those in the tree. A
second later he had swung round once more, and was looking to the
opposite bank. Then Steve saw something of what was happening. A
minute earlier the tip of the bows of their own canoe was alone
showing, a bait to catch the enemy. But now the whole canoe was in
sight, and there was Talking Bear, stripped of his blanket, his paddle
in his hand, pushing out into the river with all his strength. And
after him floated the canoe laden with the precious possessions for
which they were being hunted.
Steve was dumfounded. He stared with wide-open eyes at the redskin,
and then swung round to Jim. The trapper crouched in the osiers like a
wild cat, and as Steve looked he signalled with his hand to those in
the tree. His long finger shot out, and for a few seconds he pointed
to the forest on their own side, warning them as well as he could by
means of sundry waves and nods to be in full readiness. Then he turned
to the river and repeated the signals.
"They're both sides of the Mohawk," gasped Tom. "Look there."
Stealing through the forest, and making for the canoes as rapidly as
was possible were four painted redskins, while away on the far side
a hurried glance shewed Steve the hideous heads of two more of their
enemies. Had there been any doubt on the matter it was set at rest
within a very few seconds, for the peace of the river was suddenly
startled by a sharp and loud report, which sent the birds soaring from
the branches. A bullet flew from the far side of the river and long
before the report had died down Talking Bear crumpled up as if he had
been struck on the head with an enormous hammer, and sprawled out in
the bottom of the canoe. Then the war whoop of the redskins burst from
the trees, that whoop which had set hundreds of white men and women
trembling. Some twenty heads burst from the trees on the farther bank,
and in a trice one of the painted warriors had leaped into the water
and struck out for the drifting canoes.
"He will get aboard and row them back," thought Steve, the meaning
of it all flashing across his brain. "Then they will embark, and no
matter how many of the men on this side are killed, the others will be
able to reach us."
It was clear, in fact, that on the possession of those two helpless
canoes depended the result of this momentous engagement. If they were
taken the little band of trappers would have the whole howling band
about them within a very few minutes, and then what chance would they
stand?
Steve did not hesitate. There was a stout twig growing close by his
hand, and in an instant his musket dangled from it by means of the
sling. His tomahawk flew from his belt to his mouth, where he gripped
it between his teeth. Then, light and active as a cat, he dropped
on to the rock beneath, his moccasins making not a sound, and ere
his father could gather his intentions the gallant young fellow had
entered the water.