INTO THE NIAGARA RAPIDS
For the moment it looked as if poor Henry's last moment on earth had
come and the young soldier closed his eyes to meet the fate he thought
could not be averted.
"Back with you!" came a cry from Dave, and making a wild leap forward,
he swung his clubbed musket at the French soldier's head. The blow,
however, merely grazed the enemy's cap, which fell upon the forest
sward. Then the Frenchman drew back and made another desperate lunge
forward.
[Illustration: He swung his clubbed musket at the French soldier's
head.]
At that instant a rifle report rang out. Sam Barringford, who had just
reloaded his weapon, had seen Henry go down and was as quick to act as
Dave had been. He was in such a position that he could not get a full
view of the Frenchman but he could see the extended arms and the gun
with the bayonet, and he fired at these.
His aim was true, and with a howl of pain, as the bullet cracked his
elbow joint, the enemy dropped the weapon just as the bayonet point was
entering the cloth of Henry's jacket. Then, finding himself wounded and
defenseless, the Frenchman lost no time in retreating and was soon lost
to sight behind the trees.
Now was no time to thank Barringford for what he had done, for the
fighting still continued on every side. Dave helped his cousin to his
feet, and soon the pair, with the faithful old frontiersman, were again
in the thick of the fray. The forest was heavy with gun smoke so that in
spots but little could be seen, and more than once it happened that one
side or the other fired into the ranks of its friends.
Inside of quarter of an hour our friends found themselves in something
of an open spot bordering the river, at a point where the rapids rushed
furiously along the rocks on their way to the lake. Here, as they were
moving forward, to join a body of English soldiers fifty yards away,
they were suddenly confronted by a body of Iroquois who came upon them
uttering the most horrible war-cries the youths had ever heard, and
brandishing their tomahawks and scalping knives.
"On yer guard thar!" came from Barringford. "They air after us
hot-footed now!"
He swung around, and as the nearest Iroquois came within a dozen steps
of him, he let the savage have the contents of his gun full in the
breast, killing him instantly. Then the boys also fired, wounding two
others. This halted the Indians for the moment, but quickly recovering,
they darted forward with increased fury, bent upon adding the scalps of
the three whites to their belts ere the battle should come to an end.
It was Dave who found himself the first attacked. A tall Iroquois,
straight as an arrow, leaped upon him and tried to stab him with a
hunting knife. The young soldier warded off the blow, with his gun, and
in a trice the pair were locked in each other's arms and swaying back
and forth over the rocks. The Indian muttered something between his set
teeth, but Dave did not understand what was said.
Henry and Barringford were also attacked, so they could do nothing for
their companion. The Iroquois were ten strong, and soon it looked as if
all our friends would undoubtedly be killed and scalped.
The Indian who had attacked Dave had made a desperate clutch at the
young soldier's throat. But Dave had caught the wrist so quickly thrust
forth, and now the two were fighting with one arm of each thrust out and
up and the other wound tightly about the enemy's neck. Thus they swayed
back and forth, each doing his best to force an advantage and each
failing. Both looked about, thinking that possible assistance might be
at hand, but all the others engaged in the combat were too busy to
notice them.
Slowly but surely the pair drew closer to the edge of the river, which
at this point was some fifteen or twenty feet below the ledge of rock
upon which the combat was occurring. In the stream the rapids swirled
and boiled in every direction, occasionally sending a shower of spray up
to their very feet. The dampness made the rocks slippery and both had
all they could do to retain their footing.
At last Dave seemed to obtain a slight advantage. The Indian relaxed his
vigor for just a moment and in that fraction of time the young soldier
caught him by the throat and gave him such a squeeze that the redman's
windpipe was well-nigh dislocated.
At this the Indian uttered a grunt and began to back away, but still
retained his grip on Dave. This brought the pair closer than ever to the
edge of the rocks.
"Look out!" came a sudden cry from Henry, who happened to see the
movement. "Dave! Dave! Look out!"
Dave heard the cry, but was powerless to heed it. At the very edge the
rocks were worn smooth, and of a sudden the Indian slid backward
dragging the young soldier with him! Over went both, into the flying
spray, to disappear a moment later beneath the surface of the fiercely
running rapids.
Henry saw the fall and his heart leaped into his throat, for he felt
that it could mean but one thing for his cousin, and that death. But
even had he been able to do anything, which was doubtful, he was given
no chance, for now the advancing Iroquois surrounded him and Barringford
upon every side.
The scene to follow was one which it would be hard for pen to describe.
Feeling that it might be his last stand on earth, Barringford's whole
will-power arose to the occasion, and once again he was the very
personification of reckless courage, just as he had been when the
Indians had attacked the trading post on the Kinotah. With clubbed
musket he whirled around from right to left and left to right so quickly
that the human eye could scarcely follow him.
"Come on, ye red sarpints o' the woods!" he yelled. "Come on, an' I'll
show ye the real trick o' fightin'! Ye don't know what a roarin',
blusterin' hurricane ole Sam Barringford is when he's woke up, do ye?
Thar's one fer ye, an' thar's another, an' another! Cut me loose, will
ye! I'll show what a generwine ole Injun fighter kin do! Yer nuthin'
'tall but a lot of measly pappoose, thet's wot ye be, an' don't yer go
fer to wake up sech a roarin' mountain painter as me!"
Barringford had just brought down his third Indian and was still at it,
with Henry lending all the aid possible, when there came a sudden
war-cry from the woods to the north of the opening. It was the cry of
Indians friendly to the English, and scarcely had it ended when White
Buffalo burst into view, followed by a number of his braves.
A glance told the chief what was happening, and without delay he leaped
in to aid our friends, and in a moment more the redmen on both sides
were having a battle as warm as the one just ended. But the Iroquois had
suffered about all they could stand, and soon those that were able to
move were in full retreat, while the others were just as speedily
dispatched and scalped by the redmen who had put them to flight.
As soon as he was at liberty to do so, Henry approached the edge of the
rocks, to ascertain, if possible, what had become of his cousin. Here,
while he was peering eagerly down into the rapids and flying spray,
Barringford joined him. Both were suffering from several small wounds
from which the blood flowed freely, but to these hurts they, just then,
paid no attention.
"Whar's Dave?" was the frontiersman's question, as he proceeded to
reload his rifle.
"Why, didn't you see him, Sam? He and a redskin had each other by the
throat and both went over into the river."
"Gollywhoppers, Henry, you don't mean it! When was thet?"
"Just before White Buffalo and his braves came up."
"And they went over right here?"
"Yes."
Barringford peered sharply down the stream for nearly half a minute,
while Henry did the same.
"Don't see no sight of 'em; do you?" he said, slowly.
"No." Henry drew a long breath and shuddered. "Oh, Sam, I--I hope Dave
isn't drowned!"
At this the backwoodsman shrugged his shoulders.
"So do I hope it, lad. But war is war ye must remember, an' we can't
expect to kill the enemy right along an' hev nuthin' happen to us."
"Yes, but--" Henry could not finish because of the lump which came up in
his throat. "I'm going to follow the river and see if I can't find out
the truth," he blurted out at length.
"Sure. Come on."
The fighting now seemed to be at an end in that neighborhood, and
although they could hear gun-shots in the direction of the falls, and
further to the southward, not a French soldier or an unfriendly Indian
remained in sight.
For the day had been irretrievably lost to the enemy, and with one
hundred and fifty of the French and Indians killed, and over one hundred
French taken prisoners, the remainder of the attacking force had fled in
wild confusion past the falls and upper rapids to where lay the boats
which had brought them down from Lake Erie. Into these boats they
tumbled with all possible speed and sped in the direction whence they
had come. They were followed by some of the English and by Indians, who
ran along the shore for a distance of half a mile, shooting down every
enemy who could be reached by bullet or arrow.