The Alleghany Raiders
Sad and heavy of heart were the settlers whom Steve and his friends
met at the top of the divide which ran between the valley in which
they had lived and the forest region beyond, stretching right away to
the Alleghany mountains; for each one of the forty or more persons
of whom the party consisted had just lost home and belongings. Men,
women, and children had been forced to turn out of their log cabins
and take to the woods.
"It air a shame and no mistake," said Jim as the men of the party
gathered about Steve's pony and discussed the matter. "But there's
jest one thing that makes it easy so to speak."
"Easy! Yer don't call it an easy thing to have to fire the hut
that took so long to build, do yer, Huntin' Jim?" cried one of the
trappers, Pete Jarvis by name, his brows contracting as his bitterness
increased. "Yer don't say as it's an easy thing fer a man what's fifty
and more to turn his back on what he's given years of his life to
make, to steal like a skunk out'er these woods, where he's trapped
and shot, and with his wife and children take the trail back to the
west. Yer don't think that, Huntin' Jim. It's hard enough to break a
man's heart."
"It air all that and more, chum," was Jim's consoling answer.
"Neither me nor you, nor Mac, nor Steve, the young Hawk as he's known
hereabouts, likes havin' to git at the word of them 'ere Frenchies.
But fer all that I'm right. Ef it war winter where should we be?"
"'Tis then the poor childer would suffer, so they would," burst in
Mac. "Sure, 'twould be the death of many a one, the poor darlints.
Jim's right, so he is, Pete. We're lucky afther all."
Pete scratched his head at that, for the matter had never crossed his
mind before. He had looked at this sudden exodus from a different
point of view, and he was filled with bitterness and wrath. Still, now
that he came to review the case, he saw that Jim was right.
"That air true," he admitted. "We've got a heap to be thankful for,
and now that you've put it before me, why I'm downright glad that the
time has come now, and not later. Still, boys, it air hard."
"It is, more than hard," agreed Steve. "But we still have something to
be thankful for. We've been hearing tales of other settlements, and
they have not even been able to leave. The Indians gave no warning.
The French did not trouble to come along with their ridiculous bits
of tin, but raided the places, burnt the huts, and massacred the poor
settlers."
"And why ain't they done it here?" demanded Jim eagerly, clenching a
big brown fist. "I'll tell yer, Steve, and you too Pete. It's 'cos
that feller Jules Lapon air in these parts. Reckon he wanted them
huts and crops. He don't want to walk in and find the hul place burnt
by his Injuns. So he sends along and gives us the warnin' to quit,
knowin' that once we've took the trail he can send the hul crowd of
his Injun varmint after us. Waal. He ain't a goin' to get the huts,
'cos we've put fire to 'em, and the crops got served the same way. Ef
we look after ourselves reckon he and them ugly red critters won't
have such an easy time of it. We'd best get the business settled up."
There was, indeed, little doubt that the danger which had suddenly
burst about the heads of the settlers was a real one, and that now
that the Indians had risen in those parts, the party might be followed
and attacked. For the past four or five months tales of massacres
of English colonists had come to the ears of Steve and his friends.
All along the border-line huts and settlements had been raided, too
often suddenly and without any warning, and hundreds of unfortunate
men, women, and children had been killed and scalped. An Indian war
of the most ferocious description had been raging here and there on
the eastern slopes of the Alleghany mountains, and in many places
the enemy had burst over that range and had annihilated settlements
on the far side. Marching with the Indians, egging them on, and
sometimes vying with them in their cruel practices, were scores of
French _voyageurs_ and settlers, and even many young officers from
the regular forces; whilst behind these leaders, stimulating them
with promises of land, and aiding them with money, guns, and powder,
were the authorities living in Quebec. It was really a matter for
wonder that Steve and his friends had not been disturbed before,
for they had carved out from the virgin forests a most valuable
settlement, and one which may be said to have stood in the direct
line of the French advance. It may have been that they owed their
security from interference so far to the fact that the land nearest
to them was owned by Jules Lapon, and he happened to be away in other
parts murdering and slaying, and taking stores from any party of
trappers who happened to stumble across his path. Or this ruffian
may have purposely kept his Indian allies away, having determined to
obtain possession of such a valuable clearing. Whatever the cause, it
happened that this particular settlement had escaped till now, and had
been left so long without interference that many who lived there were
beginning to hope that the impending storm might after all pass over
their heads. And now, with scarcely any warning, the cloud had burst.
They had been ordered to quit, and to leave all that they possessed.
It was more than hard. It was cruel to think that these hardy
trappers, the pioneers of the land, had no one to look to for help,
and must needs pack up hastily and fly for their lives at the bidding
of a French monarch whose name had barely come to their ears.
"It does not help us to look upon the hardship of our case, boys,"
said Steve, as the men stood about him, dressed in their hunting
shirts, their coon-skin caps, their fringed leggings and moccasins.
"We ought to feel glad that we and the women and children are alive,
and our business now is to make arrangements for our journey. Which
way do we make?"
"Due west," answered Jim, with an emphatic wag of his head. "Up there
somewheres on the Alleghanies we'll hit upon colonial troops. There
ain't many of 'em, but they'll be enough to keep these redskin skunks
away, and any of us as has a mind to can take on service with 'em. Ef
we was to make north and west, up towards Albany----"
"Reckon that air out of the question," interrupted Pete. "I'm farthest
over in that direction, and Silver Fox here can tell you that an army
could not get through. West air our only way."
This was, in fact, the only direction in which the little party could
make, for Silver Fox had brought information that roving bands of
Indians were on the war-path between the settlement and Albany.
"Then we will turn west," said Steve. "We have got to protect
ourselves, and I should say that the best way would be to send the
women and children and half the men ahead, while we others wait and
cover the retreat. I suppose we shall make for the old trail?"
"That air what we'll do," replied Jim. "Now, as we're all here,
supposin' we pick out those who air to stay. Married men goes in
advance ef possible. Mac, guess you'll lead. You're a good trapper and
woodsman, and yer know that it'll want a 'cute man to see that the
way's clear. Me and Steve and a few others'll take the rear."
With such matter-of-fact individuals, accustomed to acting swiftly
and in sudden emergencies, it took only a few minutes to arrange the
details of their flight, and very soon the party chosen to go in
advance had moved off through the forest, Mac leading and searching
closely for the blazings on the trees which would tell him that he had
come across the trail which led to the mountains. After him went the
married men, with their wives and children. The ponies, upon the backs
of which the children and some of the women were mounted, were placed
in line, and, being thoroughly well trained to work in the forest,
stepped one after another along the track. Their rear was brought up
by Sammy, leading the lanky pony upon which all Tom's and Steve's
possessions were packed.
"Guess we'll give 'em a good hour's start," said Steve. "Jim, I'll
make back and keep an eye on the river with Silver Fox. If all is
right I'll strike once on the trunk of a tree. If they are following
you will hear two blows."
He and the Indian slipped away from the little band of backwoodsmen,
and within an hour were looking down upon the river which they had so
recently left. It was black with canoes which were passing to and fro,
while a number were drawn up in front of the bank where Steve had had
his encounter with Jules Lapon. Above the tops of the trees hung a
dense pall of smoke, a dozen other columns shewing where the settlers
had fired their huts.
"They will follow to-morrow, Hawk," said Silver Fox, when he had
looked at the scene for some little while. "They think that they will
easily come up with us. In two days they will surround our party and
we shall have to fight. It would be well to ambush them."
That set Steve thinking, and for an hour he lay there in the bracken
staring down at the river. Then he got to his feet, picked up a fallen
branch and struck the trunk of a massive tree a heavy blow, repeating
the blow again some two minutes later.
"They will hear that," he said. "Now we will return, Silver Fox. Have
you ever been on this trail?"
"Once, Hawk," was the answer.
"Do you remember the hills lying a day's march from this? There is a
gap."
The Indian suddenly came to a stop, for they were returning by now,
and stared into Steve's face. "The Hawk is sharp," he said, with a
flash of his keen eyes. "Silver Fox remembers that gap. There we will
lay an ambush."
They trudged on through the forest and presently came up with Jim
and his comrades. Then, with two men scouting in the woods on either
side, and the same number in rear and in front, the tiny little party
of stern men strode on after the fugitives in advance. And when the
morning of the second day broke they struggled up to the rising
ground which Steve had mentioned to Silver Fox. It was a rugged and
precipitous ridge, with trees growing thickly up to its foot, and
thick, long scrub running to its summit. As Steve clambered to the top
he saw that it stretched for some miles on either hand, and he knew
that to cross it at any other spot would be a difficult task, for he
and his father had often hunted in the district.
"It is just the place for us," he said to Jim, as the trapper and some
of his comrades gathered about him. "From the forest down below the
Indians who are pursuing will be able to get a glimpse of our party
after it has climbed over this ridge, for the land rises again, and
you can see for yourself that it towers above this place. Now what
do you say to this? We send on the best of the horses, with all the
women and children, and instruct them to get ahead to that piece of
open country to which I am pointing. Meanwhile, we will lie here and
prepare a nice little ambush."
"While the women and children draw the varmint into it," cried Jim,
with every sign of satisfaction. "Steve, you air 'cute. I 'lowed that
many a day ago, but here yer air agin. Boys, that air a plan that's
worth workin'."
The spot was, in fact, an ideal one for an ambush, and Steve had had
it in his mind's eye the whole of the previous two days, for he was
well acquainted with the district. As he had said, this steep rocky
ridge cut across the course of the fugitives, running for many miles
on either hand. In many places it was almost unclimbable, and at this
point it happened to be less severe, so much so that many a colonist
making east into the promised land, the valley of the Ohio, had
followed the blaze marks of those who had gone before him, and had
clambered over the rise where others had found a road. It was the most
natural thing, therefore, for this party of fugitives to take the same
track, and indeed it was the only course that they could take. The
Indians would know this, so Steve argued, and there was little doubt
that by now they were within a few miles of the ridge. What would
happen when they came up to it?
"They will climb over and wipe the whole lot of us out," our hero had
said to himself. "We must stop them here if at all."
Then, as he tramped through the forest on the previous day, he had
recollected that in approaching the ridge from the Ohio valley one
caught a glimpse every now and again of the track far in advance, for
the country to the west rose again, less sharply to be sure, but to a
greater elevation. A party making their way over that second rise in
the land would be instantly detected by the Indian pursuers, who would
imagine that all their pale face enemies were there.
"It is our only chance," said Steve, as the men gathered about him.
"Our scouts in rear have not yet signalled, so we know that the enemy
are not yet up with us, though they were on our trail last night. Then
we have plenty of time. In an hour the ponies, with the women and
children, will be on the high ground beyond, and when the Indians see
them----"
"They'll come streamin' up this ridge like hounds," growled Jim. "This
air the place to stop 'em. You place the boys, my lad."
Very rapidly and coolly Steve told the trappers off to their posts,
cautioning them that there was not to be a sound till he fired his
musket. Then he himself took cover close to the edge of the track
and waited. Presently two slim figures appeared down below, flitting
between the trees, and the trappers left behind as scouts began to
climb the ridge.
"A hundred of the varmint full on the trail," whispered one as he lay
down beside Steve. "We watched 'em till half an hour ago, and then me
and Stubbs come along at a dog trot. They'll be in sight in less than
no time. Reckon they'll spot the rest of our party. They air right up
there on the high ground beyond, and yer can sight 'em ploddin' along
beside the ponies."
[Illustration: "STEVE RESTED HIS BARREL IN THE FORK OF A DWARFED
TREE"]
"Hist! That air one of the skunks."
Jim, who happened to be next to Steve, lifted a warning finger and
then pointed below. A painted redskin, hideous in his feathered
war-gear, slipped like a shadow from the trees and stood in the open,
staring up over the ridge to the high land beyond. They saw him turn
and call softly, and then, one by one, some hundred of his comrades
flitted up to his side and stood staring at the white fugitives
beyond. Some danced with joy and brandished their tomahawks, while one
of their number turned and addressed them.
"My children, these pale faces are ours," he said. "Within the hour
their scalps shall hang at our belts. Climb the rise and enter the
trees. Do not make a sound till they are enclosed by us. Then rush
upon them and slay."
He pointed to the ridge, and, leaping forward, led the way up the
steep ascent. And as the whole party followed, their eyes fixed upon
their leader or upon the summit of the rise, some twenty ponderous
muskets went to as many stout shoulders, and sights were levelled upon
the redskin demons clambering up the track. Steve rested his muzzle
in the fork of a dwarfed tree and aligned the sights on the feathered
chief who led the party. And there he waited, his cheek well down
on the stock, his eye glued to the sights, and his finger pressing
ever so gently on the trigger. He was as steady as the fork in which
his weapon rested, for Steve was a hardened fighter by now, and he
knew that the lives of all the women and children depended on the
coolness and courage of himself and his comrades. He allowed nothing
to frighten him, and where many would have pulled the trigger out of
sheer excitement and inability to put up with the suspense any longer,
he crouched there waiting, waiting.
"About thirty yards I make it," he said to himself at last. "I'll give
him another two seconds. That will get the others up a little closer.
We want our bullets to strike more than one of the ruffians."
Suddenly there was a loud report, a spurt of flame lit up the shadow
in which he lay, while the leader of the Indians threw his hands
into the air, howled in the most diabolical manner, and then fell
backwards, to go sliding and bumping down the track till a fallen
tree arrested further progress. A second later a volley came from the
surrounding bushes, from behind rocks and boulders, while a storm of
bullets plunged into the very centre of the huddled enemy. When the
smoke blew away, Steve and his friends looked down upon an almost
deserted track, cleared of Indians save for the bodies which lay prone
on the hill-side or which rolled and slid down towards the bottom.
Here and there in amongst the bushes on either hand the crash of a
bough told that the enemy was there, but those sounds lasted only a
few seconds, and presently figures flitted in amongst the trees down
below.
"Them critters won't come to a stop till they've reached the river,"
laughed Jim, his face lighting up with joy. "Reckon they'll run till
they've come back to that 'ere Jules Lapon of theirs. Steve, reckon
you've jest saved us."
He stepped over to the young trapper and gripped him by the hand. "It
war your idea agin what brought us through," he said, "and it air you
as'll lead us out of this country. Boys, you've heard tell of our trip
up to Albany, and of how young Steve got on to the idea of them boats
and reeds. Waal, this here notion of an ambush air his. Ain't he fit
ter lead us?"
There was a shout of approval.
"He air all that," shouted Pete. "Hawk has made his name, and air real
keen and 'cute. Reckon I don't want no better leader, no more do any
of the others."
"Then, cap'n, you'll take on the command as before," said Jim easily.
"We air out of the muss with them 'ere beggars. What air we to do now?"
"Push on as fast as we are able," was our hero's answer, when he had
recovered from his embarrassment. "We will march with scouts out
behind and in front and on either side. I am hoping to reach the
mountains in four days."
The party pressed on after those in advance, and in due time came up
with them. And thus, taking the utmost precaution against attack from
the Indians, they marched through the forest in the direction of the
Alleghany mountains. Now and again they came upon an open space,
where the blackened logs spoke of a settlement which had been fired.
And often enough there were signs of the struggle which had taken
place. The bodies of murdered colonists lay among the grass, while
such relics of the former inhabitants as a tiny shoe, a rag doll, or
a wooden horse, caught the eyes of the men of the party and caused
them to grind their teeth and clench their fists. Men swore into their
beards, and in low tones vowed that they would repay the authors of
these massacres.
And so in time they came to the mountains, climbed the long and weary
foot hills, and at length struggled to the top, still surrounded by
the ever-present forest.
"We ain't far from white folks, cap'n," said Jim as the party began to
descend the far slopes. "Pete reports as he's dropped on fresh fires,
where the embers air quite warm; and there's been a hul lot of men
about stampin' the ground with hard-soled boots."
"Reckon there's men up there," suddenly exclaimed one of the trappers,
pointing to a high peak distinguishable above the forest trees.
"They've been watchin' us, and the sooner we let 'em know who we air
the better it'll be. They might be shootin' into us."
Steve at once sent off a couple of the backwoodsmen to speak to the
strangers, and in a little while his messengers came back with four
trappers similar to themselves. They were hardy-looking men, bearded
and bronzed, and dressed in the customary hunting shirt and leggings.
"Reckon you air lucky folk," said one, addressing Steve. "There's been
few come through safely since the French set them Injuns on. Have yer
had a muss with 'em?"
"We beat them back at the range," answered our hero. "We set a trap
for them, and they walked into it. That's the last we saw of them. But
we have passed many a ruined and burnt-out settlement."
"Ay, there's many of 'em, more's the shame. Ef we up here get news of
the comin' of the Injuns, why, we goes down and does what we can. But
it ain't often like that. They come down upon the settlements like a
hawk, and every one's wiped out. There ain't many settlements left.
They say as all the backwoods huts air fired and men scalped, and that
the bigger settlements just near the Alleghany range have also been
fired. Then some of the varmint have been over the range, and they've
wiped out big farms and hul villages. It makes a man swear to hear
it all, and to know that we can do nothing to prevent the murders.
But what can you expect when George has only a thousand men, same as
us, to look after four hundred miles of frontier? Why, there's Injuns
out all along the line from Western New York State right away down to
North Carolina."
Steve and his friends were indeed amazed at this statement. They
knew that an Indian war had been raging along the frontiers of the
thirteen States, but having been so cut off in the forests, little
news had come to their ears. They had learned that various expeditions
had been sent against the French and their allies, and that these
had for the most part been defeated or had failed to effect their
object. They knew too that massacres had taken place here and there.
But this was indeed news. It was terrible to learn that all along
this frontier, extending over some four hundred miles, farms and
settlements had been exterminated, that bands of Indians had ravaged
the possessions of the colonists, and had even carried their war over
the Alleghanies, wiping out the huts of the pioneers, which may be
called the first line of defences, then firing the settlements which
were not so far advanced, and which formed a second line, and finally,
throwing themselves upon a third and final line, that formed by the
more prosperous and more settled villagers on the eastern slopes of
the Alleghanies.
"But how have they been allowed to do all this?" demanded Steve,
indignantly. "Surely there are men in the colonies! Why, if this
sort of thing is allowed, the Indians will reach the coast, and will
massacre at Charlestown and other places."
He swung round on his companion, his face flushed and his eyes
flashing with indignation. Then he suddenly observed that a fifth
stranger, dressed as a hunter like the rest, but with something about
him which attracted more than usual attention, had joined the group,
slipping up to it unheard and unseen from the forest. He was tall and
lithe, some twenty-four years of age, and his keen blue eyes fixed
themselves on Steve's figure.
"Excuse me," he said, speaking with the voice of a man who had been
brought up in a town, "excuse me, sir, but what you say is hardly
likely to occur now. A year ago it seemed more than possible. But
perhaps you have not heard. At last the English Government is tired
of this massacre and this bullying. War has been declared, and troops
are coming to help us. You may ask why the colonies have not done
more. Pooh! They call a blush of shame to the cheek of every honest
and patriotic colonist. While the shrieks of these unhappy settlers
ring almost in their ears and almost within hearing of the coast
towns, these comfortable stay-at-home planters and traders and country
gentlemen sit in their council rooms and squabble. They set aside
all thought of assisting their hapless brothers and sisters, while
they heckle their unfortunate governors. But I must apologise again.
You must understand that I feel the position bitterly, for I have
had a hand in these troubles since the very commencement. Allow me
to introduce myself. I am George Washington, colonel commanding the
irregulars who have been given the task of defending four hundred
miles of frontier."
So this young and determined-looking man was George Washington, of
whom every trapper and hunter had heard. Steve regarded him with open
admiration, and then, stepping up to him, shook hands eagerly.
"It is a lucky day for us, then, Colonel," he said. "I am Steve
Mainwaring."
"Cap'n Steve, known as the Hawk amongst the Injuns," burst in Jim,
stretching out a big brown paw to grip that of the colonel. "Cap'n
Steve, Colonel, and as sharp and 'cute a fighter as ever I see.
How'dy?"
"I am glad to meet you, gentlemen," said the young colonial officer.
"You will come to our camp, where we will endeavour to make you
comfortable."
He took Steve by the arm and led the way through the forest. And very
soon the fugitives were in the middle of the hutted encampment where
George Washington and his men had their quarters. Huts were allotted
to the various families, while the colonel took Steve to his own log
house.
"Come with me, Steve," he said with a friendly smile. "I am rather
lonely, and it will be nice to have a companion to chat with. Besides,
I want to hear all about the backwoods and the troubles you have had
with the French and the Indians."
He led the way to an unpretentious hut, and very soon Steve was
stretched on a rough wooden form, staring at the embers and chatting
quietly with George Washington, even then a hero, and destined to
become one of the greatest of American citizens.