ON THE WAY TO THE ARMY
Once inside the cabin, Mrs. Risley related her story in detail, to which
the others paid the closest attention. Her trials had been great, and
the quick tears of sympathy coursed down Mrs. Morris's cheeks as she
listened, and the others were also affected.
"It was enough to kill you," said Mrs. Morris, at the conclusion. "But
now you are back, safe and sound, we'll do our best by you. You can stay
here until your husband builds another cabin and gets everything else
into proper shape for living on your land." And so it was settled.
When Dave and Henry retired once more it was not to sleep but to talk in
an undertone, the subject of the conversation being little Nell and the
twins with her.
"I'm going to do what I can to rescue her," declared Henry. "It makes my
blood boil to think of her being among those dirty redskins and
French."
"I believe the best thing we can do is to join the army under General
Prideaux," declared Dave. "His force will most likely go right through
the Mohawk valley to Lake Ontario and then along the lake to Fort
Niagara--just the territory where those Indians and French must be."
"I've got another idea," said Henry, after a thoughtful pause. "I got
the news through White Buffalo. General Johnson has been commissioned to
stir up the Indians in the Mohawk valley and get them to join in the
attack on Fort Niagara. White Buffalo and his followers are going to
join Johnson's force. Why not go with the white men in this crowd? We'll
be sure to hear more about those Indians and the French traders in that
way than if we went with the regular army."
"But to train with redskins, Henry!"
"We needn't train with 'em. There will be at least a dozen white men
with the crowd and we can go with them. I once met General Johnson. He's
a big-hearted Irishman, full of hard, common sense, and I know we could
get along with him. And when he heard our story he might put himself out
to help us."
So the youths talked on until at last they fell asleep--to dream of
fierce fights with the French and Indians and daring rescues of little
Nell. But these were only dreams. Little did they realize how many real
difficulties and perils still awaited them.
In the morning Dave insisted upon talking the matter over with Sam
Barringford. They found the old hunter ready enough to listen to what
they had to say.
"I'm with ye!" he exclaimed, after they had finished. "It ain't no half
bad plan nuther. I know Sir William Johnson like a book--fact is, I know
him a heap sight better nor any book. As ye say, he's whole-souled and
chock full of common sense. The Injuns love him as they love few white
men--an' all because he's treated 'em fa'r and squar'. Why he's done
more fer the English government nor any dozen Indian Commissioners put
together. He knows jest how to handle 'em, an' he makes friends o' foes
almost afore ye can turn a hand. Yes, let us go to him by all means and
I'll warrant when ye tell him the whole story he'll set some Injuns out
to find little Nell an' them Rose twins."
That afternoon the subject was brought to the attention of the whole
family. Mrs. Morris did not know whether to be glad or sorry, but in the
end she told the boys to go, but be careful and not run into unnecessary
danger, and in private she asked Barringford to watch over them
carefully.
"I'll do my level best, ma'am," said the frontiersman. "And ef I can
make it, they'll come back to ye unharmed. But they're putty hot-like
when they strike a trail as suits 'em, ye know thet as well as I."
Preparations were at once made for their departure. Both Dave and Henry
were fitted out with new hunting suits of the regular trapper pattern
and each took along the best gun he could obtain. Sam Barringford had
bought another rifle, which he christened Old Trusty No. 2. They went on
foot, not knowing if their progress with the whites and Indians would
admit of riding on horseback.
In the meantime it was decided that James Morris should remain at the
cabin, to finish the building and do the planting, thus giving his
brother ample time to regain his health and strength, and also making it
easier for Rodney, who during the past few weeks had been working harder
than was good for his constitution.
"Good-bye, my son," said James Morris, when the trio was ready to start.
"Be careful, but do not forget that we look to you to bring little Nell
back, if such a thing is possible;" and then Mrs. Morris kissed the
boys; and the long journey into what had been the Indian country was
begun.
Dave felt somewhat sober so long as they were in sight of the newly
built cabin, but when the last rise of ground was passed, and they had
waved a parting farewell, to which Mrs. Morris had answered by a wave of
her apron, his spirits returned, and soon he, Henry, and Barringford
were chatting as though nothing out of the ordinary was occurring, yet
down in his heart, each felt that this search for little Nell was going
to prove a serious and, most likely, a dangerous undertaking.
"Where is Sir William Johnson now?" asked Dave, presently, after several
miles of the trail through the forest had been covered.
"Somewhere near Fort Johnson," answered Barringford. "He's out to get
the Six Nations to join General Prideaux's army either at Fort Stanwix
or at Oswego--if Prideaux can get that far. Johnson is the very best man
they could send to the Indians."
"Were you ever out with him?" asked Henry.
"Many a time, lad. He's a great hunter, too, let me tell you--can hit
the bull's-eye at a hundred paces without half trying. And when it comes
to dancing an Indian war dance he can do that, too."
"And yet he's an Irish nobleman!"
"Yes, I allow as how he's an odd mixture of a man. But that mixture
makes him just the right kind for the redskins. He understands 'em--top,
bottom and sides, as the saying goes. He appeals to their brains as well
as their instincts--and when he once makes friends of 'em they are
willing to lay down their lives for him. In 1756 he was appointed sole
superintendent of the Six Nations Indians, and he made a perilous trip
all the way to Onondaga, their capital, and staid with 'em two weeks,
and got 'em to swear that they would remain neutral. That was a big
feather in his cap. Then the next year he joined Webb at Fort Edward
with some of his Indians, but he was too late to do anything, although
I've heard he was more than willing to fight. He was also on hand to
fight Montcalm when Abercrombie attacked Ticonderoga, but his three
hundred Indians didn't see the use of being slaughtered in the open at
mid-day and they refused to fight, although they told Johnson they would
take part in the battle in their own way."
"It's queer the English soldiers can't fight as we do," said Henry. "I
really can't understand it. They get out in the open and the Indian gets
behind a tree, and who has the best of it? Certainly not the man in the
open."
"I think the English soldiers have learned a lesson or two," said Dave.
"I don't believe you'll find General Prideaux marching on Fort Niagara
in the broad sunlight."
They were trailing through a dense forest, with trees on every side,
lifting their heads a hundred feet and more to the sky. Gigantic roots
lay sprawling on every side and they had to pick their way with care,
for fear of pitching headlong or spraining an ankle. It was clear and
moderately warm, and would have been warmer had the sunlight reached
them.
"Years ago this was a great ground fer b'ar," said Barringford, as they
rested for their noonday lunch, eating some things they had brought
along from the cabin. "There war a cave 'bout two miles from here whar
the b'ar ust to gather to the number of fifteen or twenty. But the cave
was cleaned out so many times ain't likely to be any b'ar left."
"Shall we go near the cave?" questioned Dave. "I'd like to have a look
at the spot."
"Yes, we'll go putty clost, lad. But you don't want to waste no time on
game jest now, do ye?"
"Not unless it came very easy. If we got a bear it would give us some
fine meat to take along, and we could sell the skin at Cherry Run."
"Ain't no b'ar there, I'm putty sure on it. But we can stop an'
see--jest out o' curiosity sake."
They did not rest long, for they were anxious to join General Johnson at
as early a date as possible, and knew that it would take them at least
two weeks to make the trip. They were on rising ground, but soon they
struck a downward path, filled with rough rocks and loose stones, where
the footing was far from certain.
"The cave is over yonder," said Barringford, pointing with his hand.
"The opening to it is on the other side. Come, I'll show ye the way. And
have your guns ready--in case a b'ar should turn up."
After this no more was said, and they went forward, side by side--so
that no one might hinder the aim of a companion. There was a slight
undergrowth between the rocks but for the most part only tall trees,
bare for a distance of thirty feet upward, marked the locality.
Suddenly Barringford put up his hand, to warn his companions. All came
to a halt and listened, at the same time straining their eyes to see
what might be ahead. They heard a low thump, followed by another, and
then all became as silent as before.
"What was it?" at last whispered Dave.
"Some wild animal," returned Barringford, in an equally low tone. "Don't
reckon as how it was a b'ar though."
They waited a moment longer, and then the old hunter again led the
advance. There were several large rocks to cross and then they rounded
one end of the cave, which, on top, was shaped very much like a huge
rocky egg.
"A deer!" ejaculated Henry. "Look out!"
All looked and saw a magnificent deer standing close to the mouth of the
cave, gazing cautiously forward. Suddenly a fox leaped out of the
opening and the deer started back in alarm.
Bang! It was the report of Barringford's rifle and the deer leaped high
in the air, to fall dead immediately afterward.
"A good shot--" began Henry, when a noise behind him caused him to swing
around swiftly. What he saw filled him with horror. A huge buck was
glaring at him from the opposite end of the rocky eminence. In a second
more the buck charged the crowd, rushing forward with lowered antlers
and with the swiftness of the wind.