LITTLE NELL--CONCLUSION
Jean Bevoir was now thoroughly cowed, and once having exposed himself he
did all in his power to curry favor with those he had so deeply wronged,
in the hope that they would relent in their treatment of him and perhaps
grant him his ultimate liberty. But neither Henry nor the others would
make him any promises, for nobody had any intention of letting him go
free.
"He deserves to become a prisoner," said Dave. "And he ought to be put
in solitary confinement and on bread and water."
"Right ye are, lad," said Barringford. "He's wuss nor a snake in the
grass. I don't wonder Henry felt like pepperin' him on the spot."
It was well along in the middle of the afternoon and the rangers who had
been out on the hunt were thoroughly tired, yet it was arranged that
those who had remained in camp should move to the cave near the falls
without delay, after getting minute directions from Jean Bevoir, so that
there should be no chance of making a mistake in the route. A strict
guard was ordered over the trader and he was given to understand that if
anything went wrong with those who set out on the search for little Nell
and the others the blame would fall upon him.
It must be said that the hearts of both Henry and Dave beat rapidly as
they pushed along the trail leading towards the falls. Henry, as we
know, loved his little sister dearly, and Dave's affection for his
little cousin was scarcely less strong. Throughout the whole campaign
there had not been a day when they had not thought of her and of what
she must be suffering.
Barringford led the advance, having questioned Bevoir so closely that he
said he felt he could find the cave in the dark. As the party moved on,
all kept their eyes and ears wide open for a possible surprise by the
enemy.
But as we already know, French and Indians had fled in the direction of
their boats beyond the upper rapids, and the only persons met with were
half a dozen braves under White Buffalo, who were out doing spy duty for
General Johnson.
"Heap glad to see Dave well," said White Buffalo, when they met. "Hear
Dave go into rushing waters. Glad Dave get out."
"So am I glad, White Buffalo. And how did you make out in the battle?"
For answer the chief pointed to his girdle, at which hung two freshly
taken Indian scalps. Then he pointed to the girdles of his followers,
all similarly adorned. Dave nodded to show that he understood.
In these days such a showing would make one shiver, but in colonial
times the taking of scalps by the Indians was such a common occurrence
that it occasioned little or no comment, especially when practiced on an
enemy of the same color. A few of the French soldiers had been scalped,
but not many, since General Johnson had given strict orders that no
mutilation of the whites would be allowed. On the other hand, the French
Indians engaged in the battle had committed all the atrocities possible
before retreating to the upper river and the woods.
Learning what was taking place, White Buffalo asked the privilege of
joining the party with one of his braves, and this was readily granted.
On they went again, through the thick undergrowth and around the rough
rocks, for in those days where the town of Niagara Falls now stands was
little short of a complete wilderness.
At length White Buffalo called a halt and pointed to the ground.
Barringford had been watching the trail intently.
"Fresh footprints, eh, White Buffalo?" queried the frontiersman.
"Indians close by," answered the chief, gravely. "No friends to the
English."
"Then we'll go slow."
The Indian grunted, and the word was passed for every soldier to be on
his guard. Barringford now calculated that they were less than quarter
of a mile away from where Jean Bevoir had said the cave was situated.
Suddenly a shot rang out and this was followed by the whizzing of an
arrow over Barringford's head. One of the rangers had been struck in the
shoulder, although the wound was but a trifle.
"This way," shouted Barringford, who had been chosen as the leader, and
all followed him to a thicket. In another moment they had caught sight
of several Indians and two French traders hurrying along a trail leading
to the river bank above the falls.
"Look! look!" cried Dave, suddenly. "There is little Nell now! An Indian
has her in his arms!"
He was right, and soon they saw two other Indians who were carrying the
Rose twins. The dusky trio appeared but for a moment, then slipped out
of sight in the timber.
With a yell to the others to follow, Dave darted after the redman who
held little Nell, and Henry, Barringford and White Buffalo came close
behind him. On they went through thickets which almost tore the clothing
from their bodies and over rough rocks. The Indians seemed to know the
way and kept a good distance ahead despite their burdens.
But now those in front had to cross a little opening, and while doing
this Barringford and White Buffalo fired on them, bringing two of the
number down. They were the Indians holding the Rose twins and in a few
minutes more the twins, who were sobbing in fright, were safe in the
rangers' care.
The Indian holding little Nell now bounded on with increased speed,
making directly for the bluff overlooking the mighty falls. He knew of
the opening under the falls and hoped by some chance to throw his
pursuers off the scent and gain this hiding-place.
But those in pursuit were too clever for him, and in perplexity he
turned, like a hunted hare, and started out on the bluff. Then, as he
came again into the open, he swung little Nell to his back and held her
there.
"He is making for the falls!" screamed Henry.
"What! do you think he means to jump over?" questioned Dave, in fresh
horror.
"It looks like it. I reckon he's afraid if he's captured that we'll
torture him."
This was probably the truth, and having glanced back once, to see if
they were still pursuing him, the Indian kept on, until he was less than
fifty feet away from the brink of the cataract.
"Oh, Dave--shall we--we shoot?" faltered Henry.
"We must!" was the quick answer. "It's our one chance to save Nell!"
Up came his gun, and up also came the weapons of Henry and several
others of the party. Four reports rang out almost as one. The Indian
staggered a dozen steps and pitched headlong, carrying little Nell down
with him. Both lay perfectly still close to the brink of the cataract.
For the moment neither Henry nor Dave dared to go forward. Supposing one
of those four bullets had found little Nell's body instead of that of
the Indian?
It was Barringford who advanced, with several of the rangers. A glance
showed him that the Indian was dead, with two bullets through the lower
portion of his back. Little Nell lay beside the fallen Indian,
unconscious and with the blood flowing from a scratch on her right lower
limb. She was only stunned by the shock and as Barringford picked her up
she opened her eyes wildly.
"Let me go! Please let me go!" she screamed, and then, on catching sight
of her preserver, stared in astonishment. "Oh, Mr. Barringford, is it
really you? Oh, I'm so glad! Save me from the naughty Indian."
"The Injun is dead, Nell," he answered, and then as Henry and Dave
rushed up, he added, "You are safe enough now."
Henry caught his little sister in his arms and both hugged each other
tightly. The young soldier was too overcome to say a word, nor could
Dave speak as he embraced his cousin. It was truly a happy moment.
In a little while the other rangers came up with the Rose twins, who
were as delighted as little Nell to find themselves among friends once
more. In the mean time the other unfriendly Indians and the French
traders disappeared, and although White Buffalo and some of the rangers
went after them, they could not be captured.
That evening, seated around a generous camp-fire, and after the best
supper they had enjoyed for many a day, little Nell and her companions
told the tale of their captivity,--how the Indians had at first carried
them off, how they had been moved from one spot to another, and of how
Jean Bevoir had finally taken charge of them. The little girls were too
young to understand how the rascally trader had hoped to make money by
having them ransomed, but the boys and the other soldiers understood,
and they made up their minds that Bevoir should not escape them and that
the whole matter should be laid before the proper authorities at the
earliest possible date.
"But I am so glad to be with you again!" murmured little Nell, as she
nestled down between Henry and Dave. "I hope the bad Indians never carry
me off again!"
"They shall never do it if I can help it," answered Henry; and Dave
echoed the sentiment.
* * * * *
Let me add a few words more and then bring to a close this story of two
young soldiers' adventures while "Marching on Niagara."
On the day following the rescue of little Nell and the Rose twins all
our friends took themselves to Fort Niagara, which was now occupied by
French and English combined. With the party went Jean Bevoir, a
thoroughly miserable prisoner of war. The trader begged hard to be given
his freedom and offered all sorts of inducements to those having him in
charge, but nobody would listen to him, and one ranger threatened to
thrash him if he ever mentioned a bribe again. At the fort the matter
was laid before Sir William Johnson, and Bevoir was placed under guard
in the military hospital; and that was the last seen or heard from him
for some time to come.
Little Nell was very anxious to get back home, to see her father and
mother, as well as Rodney and her Uncle James, and it was finally
decided that she should be sent back, along with the Rose twins and a
number of other captives who had turned up. The party was placed in
charge of a company of rangers including Hans Schnitzer, who in the
siege of the fort had lost an ear, and of Barringford, who had given his
word to Joseph Morris that if he found little Nell he would not leave
her out of his sight until the miss was once again with her parents.
"But what will you boys do?" questioned the backwoodsman of Dave and
Henry.
"We have decided to remain in the army and see this war to a finish,"
said Dave. "We've got the French and their Indian allies on the run, as
they call it, and both of us feel that it's our duty to remain at the
front."
"That feelin' does ye both credit," was Barringford's answer. "Well, I
reckon you'll git fighting enough before you're done. If it keeps on
very much longer I allow as how I'll be back with ye sooner or later."
What Barringford said about getting fighting enough was true, and the
further adventures of our young friends will be related in another
volume, to be entitled "At the Fall of Montreal; Or, A Soldier Boy's
Final Victory." In this volume we shall meet all our old friends again
and learn what they did toward establishing a lasting victory over
France in Canada.
It was not long after the taking of Fort Niagara that the boys received
good news from home. Matters were going well with all those left behind,
and they were delighted to learn that little Nell was safe and would
soon be with them. Dave's father was likewise delighted to learn that
Jean Bevoir was a prisoner and that the French hold on the Ohio River
and its tributaries was broken. He felt certain that the French traders
and the Indians under them would never regain that which had been lost,
and that in another season at the latest he would be perfectly safe in
re-establishing his trading post on the Kinotah, and that by that time
matters would be in proper shape for doing more trading than ever
before.
"I hope what he says proves true," said Dave, as he and Henry read the
letter on the subject. "I think we deserve whatever we can get out of
that trading-post, seeing how hard we have worked to gain possession of
our own."
"I am glad matters are going on so well at home," returned Henry. "My,
but won't mother be glad to see Nell again! They'll hug each other to
death." And he wiped something like a tear from his eye as he pictured
the scene in his mind.
In the darkness of the evening Dave's hand stole into that of his
cousin. "I am just as glad over it all as you, Henry," he said softly.
And then after a short silence he added: "There is no disputing it. God
has been very good to us; don't you think so?"
For answer Henry gave his hand a tight squeeze. "We can be thankful
we're alive, considering what we've gone through with. War is no holiday
making."
"You're right it's not. But I'm glad I'm a soldier anyway--and I mean to
do my duty to the end, no matter what comes."
A few minutes later both lay down to sleep, the hand of one resting in
that of the other; and here for the time being let us leave them, kind
reader, with our best wishes.
End of Project Gutenberg's Marching on Niagara, by Edward Stratemeyer