Held Up!
It was with very mixed feelings that Steve and his band of hunters and
scouts watched the coming of the French and their Indians, for as the
light grew stronger and they were able to see somewhat better, they
made out that two hundred at least of the enemy were marching across
the snow-clad lake.
"And there air the guns, boys," said Jim, as if he had been
calculating their chances. "Up here we've a fort so to speak, and
it'll take them braves a time to storm it. The French'll lead 'em, and
they air the ones we must keep a watch on. Ef them gunners get the
range, and can pop in a few shots, there'll be a muss."
"If we are good enough to allow them to keep at the game," said Steve
slowly. "Granted that they get the range, and make out the front
face of this place, well, we must do something to prevent them from
knocking us to pieces."
"A sortie, Cap'n?" asked Pete, standing beside his young leader, and
looking unusually bulky and formidable on this clear, frosty morning.
"Ef that's the order, you can put me down. A bit o' runnin' would
suit me. It's cold here for fingers and toes."
"We will see," responded Steve, still with his eyes fixed on the
advancing enemy. "Meanwhile, I vote that we select our cooks and get
some breakfast. A man can do better when he's had a meal. Stir the
fire, boys, and who are the ones to look to our food?"
He stepped inside the shelter again, and ran his eyes round the men
whose figures were lit up still by the fire, for now that a heavy fall
of snow had covered their rough roof and the front wall, it was very
dark inside. There were twenty-seven men in all, for he had obtained
several recruits at the fort on the previous day. Seth and another at
once put their hands up.
"I ain't been trappin' and fightin' all these days without knowin' a
bit about a cooking pot," said the former with a grin. "Put me and
Adam here on to the job, Cap'n, and we'll do our best. A man can't do
more."
"'Cept fight and pull a trigger whenever there's critters to be shot,"
laughed his comrade. "That air a bargain, ain't it, Cap'n? We cook for
the company, and we does our share with the muskets. 'Twouldn't be
fair to bring us out here to do what chaps from the coast and towns
could manage just as well."
"You may take my word for it. You shall have a full share of the
fighting," laughed Steve. "Get to at breakfast then, while we discuss
the other matter."
A little later all were seated about the fire once more, discussing
a savoury stew of bear's meat, which had been left simmering most of
the night. And as they sat and ate, Silver Fox, vigilant as always,
crouched in the opening to this the strangest of forts, and watched
the enemy.
"They are out of sight, Hawk," he said at length, turning and crawling
to Steve. "The forests cover them for a while. Soon they will be here."
"Then now is the time. Get to work," cried Steve.
The band broke up at once, and leaving their muskets, crept for the
most part through the opening. For they had work to do outside, and
now was their opportunity to accomplish it while the trees hid them
from the enemy. Gathering outside, they piled a wall of snow at the
foot of the barrier which filled in the front face of their fort,
while some inside took stout stakes and rammed them through the
interlaced branches and their thick covering of snow till apertures
were left through which a man might thrust a musket barrel and take
good aim. Moreover, these openings were at such a height from the
floor of the fort that those who made use of them could see to fire
over the wall which those outside were busily erecting.
"They are for use if we are driven inside," said Steve, as he watched
the men at work. "Now, boys, run the wall as far out on the right as
you can, and make openings in it also. We must do all we can to upset
the calculations of the enemy, for it would not do for us to fire from
the opening of our retreat in the first instance."
Using their hands for the most part, or a thick bough, the trappers
swept the deep snow which lay on the rocky ridge into a wall some
three feet high, and now that that portion directly in front of the
hollow was completed, they pushed on with the work to the right of
the fort, where the hummock or rock ran on without interruption,
presenting a ledge some ten feet wide, which was perfectly level. To
the left the rock fell away suddenly just outside the hollow, and it
would have been impossible to erect even a narrow wall.
"Reckon that air a good idea of yours, Cap'n," said Pete, as he beat
the snow with his hands to make it bind firmly together. "When them
critters gets out'er the trees and makes for the hollow, the snow'll
puzzle 'em a little, and they won't be properly sure whereabouts the
mouth of the hollow lies. Chances air that not a one of 'em's ever
set foot in it. They've likely enough looked up here a score of times
jest in the ordinary way of scoutin'. But that won't help 'em much,
particular when the hul place is changed by the snow."
"Just what I thought," answered Steve. "If we were to open fire from
behind the wall erected just in front of the hollow, the smoke would
give our position away to them at once, and they would soon send their
cannon balls plumping into the place. As it is, we can crawl away
behind the wall till we are well to the right, and there----"
"Reckon cannon balls don't do much harm against rock, Cap'n," burst in
Jim. "The only thing now is to be careful that them critters don't see
us at work as they come out of the trees. Best call some of 'em in."
By now the wall which Steve had planned was almost completed, and
he at once followed Jim's advice. The majority of the trappers were
directed to lie down behind that portion which stood in front of the
hollow, while the red-bearded Mac, Pete, and four others went on with
the projection to the right, for there it would not matter much if
they were seen. However, it is no easy matter to drag guns through a
forest where the ground is rough and covered deeply with snow, and
an hour more had passed before the head of the enemy's force emerged
from the screen of trees which had hidden them from Steve and his men,
and which had equally hidden the band of trappers from the French and
their bloodthirsty Indians. When they did at length emerge, filing out
from the mottled background one by one, Steve's men were in readiness.
Those who were advancing to attack them could see only an eminence,
getting steeper as it neared the top, and then suddenly erecting a big
hummock, in which lay the hollow so strangely converted into a fort.
Many had looked at this spot before, just as they did at other parts
of the surrounding country in their daily search for stragglers and
woodcutters from Fort William Henry. They had a general idea of its
conformation, but the heavy fall of snow upset their calculations.
They stared at the rise, looking in vain for the hollow and for sight
of the trappers.
"Strange," exclaimed their leader, a tall French officer, who was
wrapped in a fur coat, and whose head and ears were muffled in a thick
skin cap.
"We had information that they went there last night. Our scout told us
that they were busy cutting wood and roofing in some hollow. He saw
that it was about to snow, and fearful of losing his way in the storm,
he made back to the fort. But the same storm will have kept these
trappers here, unless--unless."
"Unless they should have crept away this morning," said his subaltern
quickly. "I will give an order to the Indians. The Hurons will tell us
whether they are there or not."
A nod told him that he had his captain's permission, and within a
minute a dozen blanketed forms had slid ahead of the force. Steve saw
them toss their blankets to their comrades, and then, like hounds on
the trail, their heads went closer to the snow-covered ground, their
shoulders bent, and, separating, the Huron Indians went off across the
snow at the edge of the forest at a pace which would have taxed the
strength of the strongest European.
"Them cusses'll make round the place within a quarter of an hour, and
ef a fox had made out, I reckon they'd know," growled Seth, as he
watched from an embrasure. "My advice is lie low and puzzle 'em. Give
'em a chance to crawl nearer."
Steve gave a low whistle at once, while he lay at full length staring
through an embrasure at the enemy below. And within a little while Jim
and Pete and Mac were beside him. They came crawling along the cleared
ground behind the wall, and presently were seated beside their young
leader. As for the French and their Indians, they had seen not so much
as a sign of the movement. For Steve was 'cute, and had the advantage
of possessing trained trappers. When building their wall not a man had
dared to step to the outside of it. They had taken the snow and thrown
or swept it to their front, so that on the outside there was not so
much as a mark. Then the two hours' labour had enabled them to run the
wall some thirty yards to the right, while behind it there was a rough
gallery, along which any man could crawl unseen.
"Now, boys," said Steve, as they threw themselves at his feet, "I
propose that we take Seth's advice. We'll lie still as foxes till they
begin to think that we have gone. Let them send their Indians up here,
and all wait till I give a signal. That will be the best way in which
to meet them. And in any case we all fire from the extreme right of
the wall, unless they get so close that a rush is possible. Then we
will collect. Has every man plenty of ammunition?"
"Heaps, Cap'n," answered Jim, "and the boys know what's to happen.
In case they don't, we'll give 'em a warnin'. All are to wait for the
signal."
They went crawling back to their stations on hands and knees, and
presently Steve joined them at the extreme right of the wall. Here,
within a space of ten yards, the whole band was collected, each man
stretched full length on the rock and snow, his eye to a loophole, his
head well hidden by the wall of snow, and his musket ready beside him.
All were wrapped in rough fur coats, for the most part made of skins
which they themselves had collected. Big, warm coon-skin caps covered
their heads and ears, while each man had a pair of sack gloves secured
to his neck by long strips of doe skin, so that he might discard the
covering at any moment and move from his position without losing his
gloves. Indeed this was a plan generally adopted in Canada and America
in those days, and one which we know was made use of by the Japanese
in their recent war with Russia.
Meanwhile the enemy had halted on the fringe of the encircling forest,
and stood there about the guns, within six hundred yards of their
object. And as they stood the twelve Huron Indians stole softly away
over the snow, till at length they had completely covered the circle.
There was a movement then amongst their comrades, and presently the
teams of men hauling the guns strained at the tackle, and dragged the
ponderous weapons into the forest. At the same time a hundred of the
Indians broke from the ranks with wild whoops, and began to move
towards the mound.
"They know as well as we do that we're here," growled Jim, as he
stared through his loophole. "Them critters'll come within range jest
to tempt us. But they won't dare to rush right up. Trust 'em for that.
They ain't much good at chargin', and no Injun's goin' to throw away
his life for nothin'."
"The French will give them a lead perhaps," said Steve. "When they
find that we do not move, and their own Indians will not approach
closer, it is probable that they will come themselves to see whether
we are actually here."
"Jest because no Frenchie, and no white man for the matter of that,
who ain't had experience hisself can believe the 'cuteness of the
Injuns, Cap'n. Some of 'em who air new to the backwoods and to the
trail, reckon they're mighty 'cute theirselves when they've been a
month only in the country. They don't reckon that nothin', not even
the print of a bird escapes the eye of a brave. Ef they do give the
Injuns a lead, why----"
"It's our turn, boys," sang out Mac. "Sure, haven't we suffered?
Haven't our people been shot down and scalped. Haven't the women and
childer been driven from their homes. Sure, now's the toime of our
loives."
"If all goes as we hope," Steve ventured. "There are the guns to be
thought of."
They continued chatting in low voices while the hundred or more
Indians discarded their blankets or coats, and with muskets at the
trail came sidling up towards the mound on their snowshoes. Presently
the smooth and unbroken expanse of snow below which had met the eyes
of the trappers early that morning was scored and seamed by hundreds
of marks and lines, the prints of the snowshoes. The figures of the
Indians, too, dwarfed before by the distance, were now far clearer,
for they were within two hundred yards of the hollow. Steve and his
friends watched as they gathered together for a while and discussed
matters. Then one of the Hurons, a gigantic fellow, broke from his
comrades and came stalking up the rise, his musket over his shoulder,
his tomahawk in his hand, and a wily and determined look on his
sharply-cut mahogany features.
"It air an old trick that," growled Jim. "Maybe he's given offence
to some of his tribe. Perhaps he ain't been so forward in the battle
as he should ha' been. So he's took the first opportunity of doin'
somethin' out o' the way to prove as he ain't a coward. Ef he walks
right up, as he well may do----"
"Not a man must move," said Steve sharply and with decision.
"Recollect that we are placed high above them, and that the ground
slopes very steeply, even from the front face of the wall, so that if
a man wishes to look over and see us he must actually reach the wall.
Not a man must lift a finger till that Indian actually sees us and
shouts. Then it will be time."
A whispered warning was passed down the ranks, and all squinted
through their loopholes, watching the hulking figure of the Indian as
he ascended. It appeared indeed as if he was determined to sacrifice
himself, and would actually clamber up to the wall and over it in his
eagerness to be killed or to discover the enemy. He advanced without
a waver till within forty yards of Steve and his men, and then, for
the first time, they saw him hesitate. He paused, looked round at
his comrades, now too far away to support him, and then deliberately
lifted his musket to his shoulder, pointed the barrel at the mound
above him, and pressed the trigger, sending a bullet thudding into the
snow. When the smoke blew away, he was still there, standing now to
his full height, his eagles' feathers trailing to his waist, his scalp
locks, with which his leggings were fringed, fluttering in the wind,
and his hideously painted face turned towards the hollow.
"Listen pale faces," he called out in his sing-song style, as if he
were addressing a meeting of braves. "I am here to summon you to come
down and be our prisoners. I swear that no harm shall befall you."
He was silent for a while, and stood staring up at the hummock as if
expecting an answer.
"Ef only I might," whispered Jim, his face aglow at the thought, and
his huge brown fist clenched. "Ef only I dared shoot the skunk where
he stands. Harm! As ef we didn't all know that an Injun's word ain't
worth a row of chips. As ef one of them critters could ever keep his
fingers off a white man when he got the chance! Don't me and every
boy here know well that a man might jest as well, ay, and better, far
better, too, put a barrel to his head and draw a trigger rather than
fall a prisoner. None of yer Indian prisoners fer me. Huntin' Jim ken
tell a tale or two o' pale face men and women, and children, too, the
villains has burned and tortured to death by inches!"
"Hush! He's going to speak again," whispered Steve, nudging the irate
backwoodsman. "Perhaps he thinks after all that we are not here."
"Thinks, Cap'n! He knows jest as well as you or me. He ain't a fool.
None of them varmint air."
"You do not speak, pale faces," came the sing-song voice again.
"Listen, all who lie hidden before me. I give you one more invitation
from the white men who lead us. Descend and there shall be no harm."
Once more he waited, while many a hand went to the muskets and many a
face scowled at the tall Indian.
"Then, listen again," he went on. "I and my brothers know that you
are there, hiding like foxes. If you will not descend, then show
yourselves, fight like men, and let it be a combat with tomahawks.
See, I am here, the Giant Oak, known throughout the great lakes for
strength and endurance. I have fired my shot, and here I will wait
for your leader to come forth and do battle with me."
Silence. The silence of the grave alone greeted the brave who had
dared to come so close to the hollow. As Steve stared down at him, he
saw that the Indian was making good use of every second, for his keen
eyes searched every foot of the snow-clad slope above him, looked into
every tiny hollow, and sought to discover a footmark, something to
tell him the exact position of the men whom his experience told him
were there. But nature had done her work well enough. The heavy fall
of snow had covered every trace, and the astuteness of the trappers
had done the rest. The man looked baffled and desperate. He caught at
his powder horn, charged his musket, primed the lock, and once more
sent a bullet thudding into the snow. Then, jeering aloud and throwing
every sort of insult at the heads of the hidden enemy, he turned and
slid down the hummock, watched by many a pair of eyes.
"And lucky for him," said Jim. "Now there'll be a bother. They'll put
their heads together, and there'll be a palaver. The French'll try to
make 'em charge, and likely enough the critters will come a little
closer. Then, ef they haven't moved us, them Frenchies'll try a rush."
"When we shall break the silence," said Steve. "Look, there are the
guns."
Jim was an old Indian fighter, and what he had prophesied took place.
For while the Indians gathered together, and could be seen talking
and being harangued by some French officers, the two guns which had so
long been out of sight suddenly appeared at the edge of the forest,
and this time within an easy three hundred yards' range. There they
were dismounted, and Steve's men watched the gunners ram in their
charges and train the weapons on the slope.
"A combined movement," said Steve easily, a determined smile on his
lips. "They will endeavour to distract our attention while their
comrades charge. Ah, there go the Indians. Pass the word. Let every
man remember that not a trigger is to be drawn till I give the signal."
It was just as well that he reissued the warning, for it is hard work
for men itching to retaliate and suffering under the knowledge of many
cruel wrongs, to lie and listen to the patter and thud and whistle
of large calibre bullets without sending their own leaden messengers
back. However, the backwoodsmen knew what was wanted, and they lay
like logs as the Indians drew nearer and nearer, firing as they came.
Often and often those trained shots, who had lived their lives in
the woods, could have picked off one of their old enemies. But they
refrained, though many a growl escaped them. Then came the guns. A
column of smoke belched of a sudden from the fringe of the forest,
and a ball thudded against the rocky wall behind, bringing down a
mass of frozen débris. A second missile struck the very summit of the
hummock, was caught as it were by the snow, and with all the venom
taken out of it and its pace retarded, went rolling down the far side.
"Jest a little gentle play," smiled Jim grimly. "Let 'em send their
cannon balls. Reckon they won't hurt us. But them Frenchies air
gettin' ready to charge."
It was as he said, for as Steve looked through the round opening made
in the bank of snow, he saw some fifty dark figures emerge from the
trees beside the guns, and throw off their heavier clothing. They
were French regulars for the most part, as was shown by their blue
and white uniform. But there was a sprinkling of _coureurs de bois_
amongst them, bold men of the forest, who had long ago demonstrated
their capacity for this class of work.
"We'll not be in a hurry," said Steve. "It is harder work to charge up
a hillock, which after all may be untenanted, than it is to dash up
while bullets swish past, and while the shouts and cheers of comrades
help to keep up one's courage. Not a shot, boys, till you hear my
musket. Ah, here they come, and the guns are starting again."
He had watched the French gunners sponging out their pieces, and
now crouched a little lower as a ball came hurtling overhead with a
scream, and expending all its force against the soft cushion of snow
lying on the hummock above, dropped backwards like a stone, and fell
with a thud at his feet.
"Sure, 'tis one of thim bhoys as could give ye a gentle little knock,
so it would," sang out Mac, while the trappers laughed heartily. "I'll
be afther axing ye, Mr. Frenchie down there, to aim to the rhight a
bhit, for Mac here don't like thim pellets, and there's Huntin' Jim as
is afeared of the beauties."
There was another laugh at that, a low, noiseless laugh for these men
knew that sounds travelled easily and far on such a frosty day. Then
all fixed their eyes on the gathering of Frenchmen below, and watched
as they advanced towards the hillock, taking their time, for they
wished to have all their breath for the more difficult part of their
task.
"Ef they'd only hurry," growled Jim. "They're delayin' so much that it
makes me jumpy. 'Sides, it's goin' to snow agin, and that'd help 'em."
Indeed, as he spoke, a few flakes came sidling noiselessly through
the air, while the clear sparkling light was rapidly shut out by the
masses of heavy clouds which were gathering above. Heavy snow might,
indeed, be expected, and would help to hide the attackers as they
came. Nor were the French slow to recognise that fact. While the guns
went on with their bombardment, pitching balls now to the right and
then to the left, and on one occasion clean into the hollow, the party
who had gathered and moved out to storm the hillock halted and shouted
to one another. Ten minutes later as the snow-flakes came tumbling
heavily and the wind whirled them across the white expanse below, the
Frenchmen started again, and, raising loud shouts, dashed forward as
fast as their snow-shoes would carry them. Arriving at the steeper
part of the hillock they kicked their shoes away, and in a trice were
scrambling up, their muskets slung over their shoulders and tomahawks
or cutlasses in their hands.
It was a tense moment for all behind the wall, and even the oldest
trapper there felt his heart thumping against his ribs and his pulses
throbbing with unusual force. Steve's men lay as if they were dead,
each man stretched behind a loop-hole, and every muzzle held just
within the opening. The dark figures below became a little more clear
amidst the whirling snow-flakes, their shouts grew rapidly closer, and
far sooner than Steve had expected they were within easy range. But
still he held his hand till only thirty yards divided the combatants.
Bang! Crash! His own piece bellowed noisily, and in an instant a
volley burst from the defenders, spitting flames and smoke and leaden
bullets into the Frenchmen. There was a shout of consternation, and
some dozen of the attackers fell backwards and went sliding down the
steep sides of the hill, carrying an avalanche of snow with them, till
they reached a more level portion, where their bodies came to a rest.
Behind them they left many a dark stain on what had been a beautifully
white carpet, stains which the falling flakes did their utmost to
cover, as if they were ashamed of this handiwork.
"We have drawn their fire. We have the birds. Charge, mes enfants!"
A slim, short officer, dressed in blue and white uniform, and minus
his hat, which had been shot from his head, stood erect for an
instant, waving his sword and the pistol he carried in his other hand.
Then, turning to face the wall from which the stinging hail of bullets
had come so suddenly, he leaped at it, and in a little while was
desperately striving to clamber over it.
"Men on the extreme right reload muskets," sang out Steve. "The others
use clubbed muskets or tomahawks."
There was no time for more, for the remainder of the attackers had now
joined their leader and were already within a few paces of the wall.
As Steve leaped to his feet and swung his ponderous musket butt over
his shoulder twenty of the enemy were within a couple of yards of
him, and in an instant the pistol of the leader was pointing at his
head, there was the flash of powder in the pan, a sharp report, and a
strange feeling under his cap. The cap rose of a sudden, spun round,
and fell at his feet, while Steve grabbed for one brief instant at his
scalp and at the locks of hair which had been so neatly shorn from it.
Up went his butt, he swung it over his head and brought it down with a
crash which broke the Frenchman's guard, wrenched his sword out of his
hand, and sent him rolling backwards doubled up like a ball.
"On to 'em, boys. See the Cap'n. Drive 'em back same as he did."
It was Pete's voice which burst in on the babel of shouts which had
broken from attackers and defenders, while the burly backwoodsman
himself leaped over the wall, his musket swinging over his head and
the butt swaying this way and that, clearing a path on every side.
"Up and over the wall," shouted Steve. "Now, send them back."
It was all over in less than a minute, even before the men told off to
load their muskets had accomplished that task. One desperate onslaught
of the backwoodsmen had sent the Frenchmen rolling, sliding, and
tumbling down the steep slope till they were out of sight behind the
falling bank of snow. Only their voices could be heard, the cries and
moans of the wounded, that and the deep voice of the two cannon which
had ceased their fire for one instant as the combatants came to hand
grips, and which opened again now, the gunners having learned that the
attack had been beaten off.
Thud! One ball struck the rock a foot above Steve's head and covered
him with splintered rock and snow. Then came the second. They could
hear the whirr of the ball as it rushed through the air, the sound
rising to that high-pitched shriek which has made many a recruit, ay,
and many an old soldier too, bend his knees and his head and look
uncomfortable. Crash! It hit that face of the hollow which had been
filled in with branches, thudded against the rocky wall beyond, and
then----
There was a terrible explosion, which seemed to shake the hillock, and
which threw Steve and his men in all directions. The roof which they
had placed over their little fort disappeared amidst the snow-flakes,
while the wall in front was shattered, the branches being sent over
the wall of snow on to the slope below.
"One to them," said Steve, sadly, as he picked himself up. "That ball
must have struck the keg of powder we left in the hollow. Listen to
their cheers. They guess that they have damaged us severely. Let us
see how many of the men are hurt."
One by one the trappers picked themselves up till only two still lay
on the ground.
"Jest stunned and knocked silly, Cap'n," said Jim. "Reckon we're in
luck this time. But it air not goin' to snow all day, and when it
clears them fellers'll knock us to pieces."
"If they are allowed to continue practice with the guns," answered
Steve swiftly. "Boys, the French guns must be put out of action. I am
going to spike them, and I want a volunteer. Settle amongst yourselves
who is to come, while I get something with which to plug the vents of
the cannon."
He pulled his ramrod from its fastening and dived into the dismantled
hollow, where a minute's search produced an axe. There was a boulder
near at hand and very soon he had cut two six-inch lengths off the
rod. By then Mac stood beside him, his snowshoes in his hand, his
beard and hair red and flaming against the background beyond.
"Ready and willin', Cap'n," he said.
"Then come," answered Steve easily. "Boys, we'll be back by the
morning."
He waved his hand to his comrades, slung his musket, and strode away
to the left. A minute later he and Mac had disappeared round the
shoulder of the hillock, their dark figures being swallowed up in a
whirl of flying flakes.