WILDCAT AND WATER
Dave was both startled and alarmed when the wildcat came down almost on
top of his bare head, and even more frightened when the beast made a
leap for his naked shoulder. He had had several experiences with
wildcats and knew them to be both powerful and bloodthirsty.
By instinct more than reason he dived and went down as far as possible.
As soon as the water closed over the wildcat's head it let go its hold
and began to swim for the shore.
Henry was directly in the path of the beast and in a second more, ere
the young soldier had time to think of diving, the wildcat was on his
back, sinking its cruel nails deeply into his flesh.
"Get off!" screamed Henry. "Get off! Help! help!"
And then he went down, not because he thought of doing so, but because
he could not bear the weight. The stream closed over him and he went
directly to the bottom.
This time the wildcat did not let go its hold. It clung desperately and
when Henry tried to shake it off it only sunk its nails deeper into his
flesh. Mechanically he started to scream, when the water rushed into his
mouth, almost strangling him on the spot.
By this time Dave had reached the surface, and the rings and bubbles
showed him plainly where Henry and the wildcat had gone down. With swift
strokes he swam to the river bank, just as several rangers came running
to the scene.
"Did you call for help?" asked one.
"A wildcat!" panted Dave, hardly able to speak, and he pointed out into
the stream. "Sa--save my cousin!"
"So a cat has attacked him, eh?" said one of the rangers. He raised his
gun. "Don't see anything of the critter."
Just as he finished speaking there was a splash in the water and the
head of the wildcat appeared. Then up came Henry, and they saw that the
beast still clung to the young hunter's back.
It was a risky shot to take, for youth and beast floundered around
furiously. But something had to be done, and in a second one gun-shot
rang out, followed quickly by another. The aims of both rangers had been
true, and the wildcat was struck in the forequarter and in the head.
With a snarl and a sputter it let go its hold of Henry and splashed
madly around in the water.
No cry came from Henry, but as soon as the beast had let go its hold he
sank beneath the surface once more, too weak to do anything toward
saving himself.
"He'll be drowned!" muttered Dave. "Save him!" And without waiting he
plunged in the river once more.
He felt deathly weak himself, but the thought that his cousin might be
lost forever nerved him on. With set teeth he swam to the spot. Catching
sight of Henry's arm as it was thrown up, he grabbed at the member and
clung fast.
"Henry, hold to me," he managed to say, but his cousin paid no
attention, for he was more than half insensible. Then Dave tried to
raise him up, but the weight was more than he could sustain.
"Help us, somebody!" the young hunter managed to call out, and there
followed a splash, as one of the rangers leaped into the river. Another
shot rang out, a finishing one for the wildcat, and the carcass of the
beast floated down the river and out of sight among the bushes lining
the opposite bank.
By the time the ranger came up, Dave was nearly as far gone as Henry.
The old soldier was a powerful fellow and easily brought both to the
bank, which was only a short distance off. Here Dave sank down in a
heap, while the other soldiers did what they could to revive Henry.
The report that a wildcat had attacked some bathers quickly spread
throughout the camp and many flocked in that direction to learn the
particulars. Both Dave and Henry were given the best of attention, and
by the following morning each said he was able to resume his duties. But
both were stiff from the treatment received from the wild beast and on
Henry's neck were deep scratches which he was destined to carry with him
to the grave.
"After this I'm going to be mighty particular where I bathe," he said to
Dave, when on the march.
"Yes, and particular where you dive from," returned Dave. "If you see
another wildcat on your spring-board better let him finish his nap
without disturbing him."
The march to Cumberland was more difficult than had been anticipated,
and the young soldiers were glad when it came to an end and they found
themselves encamped just outside of the fort, which both had visited
more than once when on a trip to Will's Creek. Soldiers were coming in
from all directions, and soon the camp was full to overflowing.
"Wonder how long we'll stay here," said Henry, after they had been at
Cumberland over a week. "I had an idea we were to march straight on to
Fort Duquesne."
"There is some trouble over that new road to the fort," answered Dave.
"I understand Colonel Washington is awfully cut up over it. He thinks
they ought to use the old Braddock road and polish up the Frenchmen in
short order."
"It was the delay that brought on defeat before, that's certain, Dave.
It's a pity the British generals won't take Washington's advice."
What Dave said about trouble over the road was true. The Braddock road,
originally selected by the Indians, was as good as any to be had or
made, yet despite all arguments against it, it was decided to cut a new
road through to Fort Duquesne from Raytown. It was true such a road
would be a little shorter than the old road, but to cut it would take
all summer and to keep up the campaign during the winter would be
well-nigh out of the question.
When a part of the colonial troops, including the company to which Dave
and Henry were attached, reached Raytown they found the new road already
started, with two hundred men engaged in cutting down trees, removing
big stones, and burning brushwood. This was kept up week after week,
and in the meantime the troops suffered greatly through sickness and
lack of proper food. Many of the colonials grew disgusted at the slow
progress of the campaign and would have gone home had not the military
regulations forbidden it.
It was in the midst of this that Sam Barringford came in and hunted up
Henry and Dave. "Thought you'd like to set eyes on me," he said, on
shaking hands. "Jes' got in with Dave's father. We did some tall hunting
I kin tell ye."
"And Nell?" asked Henry, quickly.
"She's a prisoner up to Fort Duquesne. We got thet putty straight."
"Not of the French?"
"No, of the Injuns hangin' around thar--the Jean Bevoir crowd, as Dave's
father calls 'em--a bad lot, too."
Barringford had decided to take part in the campaign now in progress and
it can well be imagined that the two young soldiers were right glad to
have their trusty old friend with them once more.
"It will seem like old times," said Dave. "If only we could move ahead
to-morrow!"
It was late in October when Dave brought in news. He rushed up to where
Henry and Barringford were industriously sewing up some holes in their
jackets.
"Hurrah, we are to move at last!" he cried. "Major Grant is ordered
ahead with eight hundred men, and our company is to go with the body."
"Only eight hundred," returned Barringford. "Thet ain't many. Kind o' a
scoutin' party, I reckon."
Yet, he too was glad to make a movement of any kind, and prepared at
once for the departure. Two days later the command was on the road,
those left behind wishing them the best of success.
The English were still many miles from Fort Duquesne when the French
scouts brought word to their commander that the enemy were approaching.
Without waiting to be attacked the French marched forth to do the
approaching English battle.
"The fight is on!" cried Dave, as several shots rang out from in front.
"We are in for it now!"
"Well, we came to fight," answered Henry. "And the sooner the battle is
over the better."
The real battle, however, did not take place until the next day. Then
the French did their best to surround the English, and in a short while
the contest waxed hot on all sides. Part of the battleground was a small
opening and the rest of the fighting took place in the forest. Soon the
smoke became so thick that but little could be seen on either side.
"Tell ye wot, them Frenchers mean business!" ejaculated Barringford,
while reloading his firearm, which was so hot he could scarcely hold it.
"We've lost a sight o' men already."
What he said was true. The loss had been frightful, and the dead and
dying lay on every side. Moans and shrieks rent the air, in a fashion to
turn the stoutest heart sick. Major Grant rushed around heedless of
danger, giving directions and doing all he could to encourage those
under him.
"Don't retreat! The battle is ours!" he called out. "Stand where you
are!" And then his voice was lost in the rattle of musketry and the mad
yelling of the Indians, who had come up to aid the French and steal what
they could from the English.
Dave, Henry and Barringford were behind a fallen tree, blazing away as
rapidly as possible. The French were before them and the Indians on
their left, and for some time it was as if pandemonium had broken loose.
Suddenly Barringford gave a yell.
"Duck, boys, duck!"
They fell flat and not a second too soon, for half a dozen arrows
whizzed over their heads. Then the old frontiersman leaped to his feet.
"I'll pay ye back!" he roared. "That fer ye, ye sarpints o' the Evil
One!"
[Illustration: He took a quick but careful aim at the leader.]
He took a quick but careful aim at the leader of the Indians, who was
rushing straight forward, with tomahawk lifted. The hammer of his
flint-lock musket fell. A terrific explosion followed and Barringford
was hurled flat while Dave and Henry were also struck and knocked down.
The gun had exploded.
Then before any of the party could recover, the Indians were upon them,
shouting like demons and flourishing their tomahawks and their
keen-edged hunting knives.