*CHAPTER XVIII*
*A LOST TRAIL*
"Swift Arrow?" exclaimed Jamie, lowering his smoking rifle, as he almostrushed forward to greet his companion, in a truly English fashion, forhe was heartily glad to see him again.
The Indian, however, remained cold and reserved, and his only responseto the warm greeting of his paleface friend was the customary "Ugh!"which seems at times to be the only stock-in-trade of the Red Indians.The fact was, the youth was on his first war-path, and at such a timethe practice of his tribe demanded deeds, not words.
"My red brother has the speed of a deer and the heart of a lion. He hasseen the White Eagle, and has brought us tidings. Let him speak, andthe palefaces will listen to his words," said the trapper.
After the usual pause demanded by Indian convention, the youth replied--
"White Eagle, with thirty braves, will reach the Seneca Falls at sunset.Will the palefaces continue to follow the Algonquin trail?"
"Yes," the scouts replied.
And then, without another word, Swift Arrow turned away and disappearedinto the forest, almost in the direction in which he had come.
Though Jamie was now fairly acquainted with Indian manners and customs,he was rather taken aback with this abrupt departure, and would havecalled him back again, but the trapper said--
"Leave him alone, lad. He is only following the traditions of his race.He has followed our trail, and delivered the chief's message, and is nowprobably going to rejoin White Eagle. He has discharged his duty with afidelity that many a white man might envy."
"He must be tired!"
"Yes, during the last fifty hours he must have traversed near a hundredand fifty miles of forest and streams, and I doubt very much whether hehas tasted food during the whole journey."
"Hunter, I have lived amongst the red men a little while now, and I haveoften discovered amongst them a sense of honour and an unselfish spiritthat I have never seen surpassed by the members of more civilisedraces."
"I'm glad to hear you say it, lad. During the last fifteen years mytruest friend has been a red man."
"You mean the White Eagle?"
"I do!"
"He is a great chief. I owe him my life. But for him my scalp would nowbe hanging at the girdle of one of his braves. I knew he would come toyour rescue, too, if he only knew of your danger."
"Come to my rescue? He would have crossed the lakes and the plains tothe mountains beyond, even to the utmost bounds of the Oregon River, ifhe had but known that my life was in danger, and he would not haveexpected the slightest reward; but come, let us break our fast that wemay follow the trail."
"Look, trapper. There is our dinner, and a right royal one, too," saidJamie, pointing to several wild turkeys that were feeding in thehalf-dried bed of a little stream near by.
The hunter raised his rifle to his shoulder quickly, and fired, and oneof the birds fell over, struggled for a few seconds, and then lay stillwith its claws in the air. Jamie rushed off to secure it, and quicklydressed it while the trapper lighted a fire, and in a few minutes thisfine fat bird was roasting on a spit, scenting the forest with the smellof roast turkey, and promising to allay every pang of hunger.
They made a hearty repast, and then washed it down with a drink at thelittle stream, before they continued their march. They had a trail nowthat a child could have followed, for at very frequent intervals therewere splashes of blood, which marked the ground and showed the track ofthe wounded Algonquin, so that they were able to move rapidly andwithout any loss of time for several miles.
"We must keep a sharp look-out for scouts now, trapper, for the varletsknow that we are on their track."
"That will only make them hurry forward, and I don't think that theywill place many scouts in their rear. The only thing that I fear isthat they will not camp to-night, but press on in order to get to theCanadas as quickly as possible. In that case, should the chief bedetained, they may pass the Falls before he gets there, and reachOntario. So we must follow close. We cannot be far from Lake Senecanow."
"Cannot we follow them there?"
"No. They will be safe behind the guns of the Frenchers."
"Is it true then, hunter, that all the Canada Indians look up to Louisas their king, and call him their 'Great French Father' across thewater, and that they are in league with him to drive all the Englishfrom the Americas, and to make it a great French Empire?"
"'Tis even so, my lad! And 'tis my firm belief that the Canadawar-parties, like the one whose trail we are now following, are sent tostir up strife, to tomahawk and scalp the English settlers, to destroytheir harvests and burn their houses, by the Frenchers at Quebec and thefrontier forts; but they defeat their own objects, for they have latelystirred up all the tribes of the Iroquois as well as the Delawares tobecome the active allies of the English."
"And what will be the end of it all, trapper?"
"The end of it will be, that the Frenchers themselves before long willbe driven out of Canada, just as they have lately been driven out ofIndia, by a few determined Englishmen, under that brilliantmerchant-soldier, Clive."
"Indeed! Do you think it possible to drive the French out of Quebec?They have made the place impregnable. When I left there they ridiculedthe idea that the English would ever attempt to take it."
"Time will show," said the trapper. "Do you know that even now aBritish fleet is holding the river, and an English army is encampedabout Quebec?"
"Is it possible? How I should like to be there and to serve underWolfe's flag; but how did you learn all this in the forest?"
"Even the forest can speak to those who have ears to listen. Why didthe Algonquins depart so rapidly, and make no attempt to recapture me,when the price of fifty beaver-skins has been set upon my scalp by theCanadas during the past five years? They could not know then that theIroquois were upon their trail."
"Why, indeed; unless they were summoned hastily back to their owncountry, or was it that they feared the wrath of the Senecas and theCayugas, whose hunting-grounds they had invaded?"
"Partly that, perhaps, for the Senecas, like all the other tribes of theSix Nations, are a fierce and warlike race; but there was anotherreason."
"What was it?"
"Listen! The night before I escaped, a messenger, with a war-hatchetall covered with blood, entered the Algonquin camp. He also carried abroad belt of wampum, and the skin of a rattlesnake filled with arrows;while his tomahawk was stained a deep red, in token of war. He wasreceived with great deference, and when he had handed the war-belt tothe Algonquin chief, he declared that a fierce and bloody war had brokenout between the French Father and the children of Miquon, and that theformer needed all his red children to come and assist him. He promisedthem 'a great plenty' of paleface scalps if they would come; but if theyrefused, then, if the English won, they would take from the children ofthe Manitou all their hunting-grounds, and burn their wigwams and lodgesto the ground, until the prints of their moccasins should no longer befound in the forests.
"When the messenger had finished speaking he showered the arrows uponthe earth, and then flung the blood-red hatchet upon the ground,saying--
"'Even now the River of Canada is full of big canoes that carry thethunder and the lightning, and the paleface warriors from over the greatSalt Lake, led by a mighty chieftain named Le Loup [Wolfe], have settledaround the fortress of Canada, like a swarm of locusts. Come, mybrothers! Who will take up the hatchet to fight for the Great CanadaFather?'
"After a long pause, as if to give due weight and consideration to thisimportant message, the Algonquin chief arose from his seat by thecouncil fire, and made a brief but solemn speech, which, after extollingthe prowess of his ancestors and himself, ended in a promise to returnand assist the French, as soon as the scattered members of the partyreturned, and the scouts were called in. He then proceeded slowly tothe spot where the hatchet was half buried, and solemnly took it up.
"A wild burst of savage yells greeted this action, and the evening wasgiven up to a war-dance. Next day, while the parties were coming in,one of the scouts was scalped, as you know, by Young Eagle, and thedeparture was delayed another day.
"Thus it was," continued the trapper, "that I learnt of the arrival ofWolfe, and that the plight of the French was so bad that all theirIndian allies had been called in to assist them, with a promise of a'great plenty' of paleface scalps. A promise which never fails toattract a red man."
This was news that fired Jamie's soul. What would he not give to joinhis countrymen, and to help in wresting the Canadas from the French? Atthat moment he envied the smallest drummer-boy in Wolfe's army the parthe was to play in the siege.
"If only Jack were free," he said to himself, "we would start for Quebecto-morrow, and offer our services; and Jack shall be free, if brave mencan save him!" Then overtaking the trapper, who was a few yards inadvance, for during this conversation they had been following the trailin single file, he said--
"In another two hours the sun will be entering the pines. I shall beglad when we reach one of the streams that flows into the lake. Surelywe cannot be far away now!"
The hunter at that instant halted suddenly, and exclaimed, "Thevarmint!"
"What's the matter?" inquired Jamie, noting the anxious look on the faceof his companion.
"They have misled us. This is a false trail. Several of the Algonquinshave come this way in order to mislead us, and then doubled back,walking backwards. It must be so, for look--the trail ends here."
It was only too true. For nearly a mile, through tangled forest, acrossstreams and open glades, they had followed a false trail.
"That comes of talking too much. Your Indian, when he is on thewarpath, doesn't spill a word, except his blessed 'Ugh!', for he keepshis nose down to the trail. However, there is no help for it. We mustgo back till we strike the main trail again." This all took valuabletime, but at last they discovered the spot where the tracks diverged,and they got the scent once more. The real trail had been so neatlycovered up, for fifty yards or more, and the false one left open, thatit was no wonder that the mistake was made.
Even here their difficulties did not end, for within another quarter ofan hour they came to a spot where several small streams met, and herealso the trail ended abruptly, and although they examined each bank forsome distance they were unable to discover any clue as to the routetaken by the Algonquins.
Time was precious, and a full half-hour had already been wasted here,when the trapper, who had carefully examined each of the bigger streams,turned his attention to the third, which was a mere rivulet. Proceedingtwenty yards up the bank of the stream, he dammed up the rivulet with afew stones, backed by earth-sods, and turned it temporarily out of itscourse, so that almost immediately it ran dry. Then, following thedried-up bed of the stream, he soon perceived the print of a moccasin,that had only been half-washed away by the water.
"Look!" he said, "even the water sometimes gives up its secrets. Hereis the trail--let us follow it."
Half-a-mile further on they came to a place where the whole band hadleft the stream, and struck into the forest again, and just as the sunwas getting low amongst the trees they struck a larger stream that wascapable of bearing a canoe.
"They have taken to the water! See, here are the marks made by the bowsof the canoes, as they pushed off," said the trapper.
"And here is the spot where the boats were hidden amongst the bushes!"exclaimed Jamie.
"Yes. Let us look around and see if by any chance they have left us aspare canoe, for if I am not mistaken they have left nearly a dozen oftheir warriors in the Iroquois forests."
A diligent search was made, but no trace of a canoe could be foundanywhere. The only thing they could find was a spare paddle, which thetrapper took along with him, saying--
"A paddle without a canoe is not worth much, but if we discover a canoeand haven't got a paddle, we shall not be much better off."
They had not proceeded far down the bank of the stream when the keeneyes of the hunter, despite the failing light, perceived a strandedcanoe on the other side of the river.
"I thought so!" he exclaimed. "The rascals had one canoe too many, butto prevent us using it they set it adrift, and the current has landed itacross there. I will fetch it."
"No, no!" said Jamie. "I'll fetch it," and, throwing off his huntingshirt, he plunged into the stream, and swam across to where the canoehad gone ashore, jammed between two rocks. He had taken the paddle withhim, and he quickly returned in the canoe, which was none the worse forits little adventure, except that there was a small hole in the bow,which the trapper soon repaired.
"There is no time to lose. We must hasten; for unless the Algonquinscamp somewhere along the lake, we shall be too late," said the hunter.
The sun had set half-an-hour ago, as they paddled swiftly down stream;but there was still a crimson glow from amongst the pines on the westernside of the river. Sometimes they skimmed along with the currentwithout putting in the paddle, the next moment they danced and twistedamongst the rapids; but the trapper piloted the canoe safely amongst therocks, the eddies and the swirls, ever seeking the most sheltered spots.
Suddenly, a bend in the river revealed to them the opening of the lake,and in another moment they were skimming along its glassy surface, closein-shore. This narrow lake is thirty-five miles long, and from one tothree miles broad, and long before they had covered half its lengthdarkness fell, but they slackened not their efforts. They paddled inturn, quietly but swiftly, ever keeping a careful watch lest they shoulddiscover the camp-fire of the enemy.
They were approaching a headland that jutted out some little way intothe lake, and were scarce a dozen yards from the thick bushes whichoverhung the bank, when the screech of an owl reached their ears fromthe shore.
Jamie, who held the paddle, stayed his hand for a moment, and peeredinto the darkness. A dark shadowy form was standing on a rock at thevery edge of the water, with an uplifted hand that indicated danger.
He knew that form and that call too well to hesitate. "It is SwiftArrow," he whispered; and drove the canoe in gently towards the shore.
Under Wolfe's Flag; or, The Fight for the Canadas Page 18
