How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

by F. S. Brereton

  Chapter XVI

  The Return of the Hurons

  Steve was filled with delight at the idea of rescue. A thousandthoughts flashed through his mind, a thousand memories of the olddays, which seemed now so very long ago, for despite the easy terms ofhis imprisonment, the time had dragged heavily.

  "To-night! To-night!" he said over and over again to himself as hepaced backwards and forwards. "And father is there. Where can he havebeen, and how comes it that Silver Fox has managed to get into Quebec?He seems to know the place, too, and is in no hurry to depart."

  He had purposely walked in the opposite direction to that taken bythe chief, but now he watched him out of the corner of his eye.Silver Fox was dawdling idly in the courtyard, as many another Indianhad done on that and on previous days. He strolled along the wall,looked out at the magnificent prospect spread out before him, atthe rolling waters of this, one of the mightiest of rivers, at thegreen slopes of the Isle of Orleans, and at the blue and green vistabeyond, the forest-clad southern bank which stretched right awayacross the much-debated frontier to America, the colony filled withthe hardy sons of Old England, and with fugitives from many parts ofthe world. Silver Fox halted for quite a little while and filled hispipe meditatively, striking flint and steel with great deliberation,and puffing languidly as if he had nothing in the world to occupy him,nothing to fear, and only desired to remain there and think and watchthe lovely country below. For half an hour at least he leaned againstthe granite parapet, and then Steve saw him walk softly along somedozen paces, turn his head to the place where the sentry was placed,and then deliberately point below.

  "A signal undoubtedly," thought Steve. He dropped his hand to showthat he was watching, and then turned away again, while the Indianchief daubed in the colours of the Hurons struck flint and steel againas if his tobacco had not been lit sufficiently, and then saunteredcalmly from the courtyard. Half an hour later our hero ventured to thesame spot and carelessly looked over. Down below, some thirty feetperhaps, was a narrow path running between the wall of the fort andanother wall which hemmed in the courtyard of a private residence.

  "That is where I am to expect them," he thought. "Well, it is a goodplace, for the path is little used, and at night time it is denselydark. Now how am I to get here without upsetting the sentries?"

  He thought for a little while, and then suddenly walked across thecourtyard, clambered up the flight of steps which led to the roomwhich had been allotted to him as his quarters, and promptly took offsome of his clothing. A minute later he had thrown himself on hiscouch, where he lay half on his face, feigning illness. An hour ormore later there was a step outside, and the guard, whose duty it wasto make a round of the rooms occasionally, looked in at the door.

  "Ha! Monsieur sleeps," he said gently, for he was a good fellow, andSteve had always been pleasant with him. "Monsieur is tired. I will becareful not to wake him."

  He tip-toed away down the passage, and would soon have been out ofhearing had Steve remained silent. But that was the last thing hewished to do. He desired to attract the attention of the man, andpromptly gave a groan as if he were in agony.

  "Did I hear correctly? Was it monsieur who groaned?"

  The guard stopped abruptly, and brought the stock of his ponderousmusket with a clatter to the ground, the jar being instantly followedby a second groan.

  "Surely, it must be monsieur. What ails you, if you please, MonsieurSteve?" he asked, coming back to the room. "You are ill and in pain.What is the matter?"

  Steve was not the one to sham as a rule, but he knew that he couldnot very well remain in the courtyard that night unless he had someplausible reason. He was not ill. In fact, he had never felt betteror more energetic in his life. But he was 'cute, as Hunting Jim hadalready observed, and he was determined to manufacture some complaint.

  "It is nothing," he answered, letting another feeble groan escape him."I do not feel very comfortable. I have pain here. Perhaps monsieurwould speak to my servant and ask him to bring me something warm todrink."

  Steve placed his hand over his stomach and rolled on to his faceagain, for he was fearful that his healthy colour would betrayhim. The guard trailed his musket promptly, and went off at a run,bellowing for the soldier who had been detailed to wait on theprisoner.

  "Quick," he cried, accosting the servant in the courtyard, "Monsieuris ill. I discovered him lying on his couch, groaning horribly. Hedesires something warm to drink. Run to the kitchen and see if you canobtain some milk."

  A little later Steve was sitting up and sipping the warm milk, whilehis servant looked on sympathetically.

  "Pardon, monsieur," he said, "but the pain will be better shortly.Monsieur looks well, and I am sure that this is only a little matter;for think, monsieur was in the courtyard two hours ago and I heard himwhistling as if he had not a care in all the world, and as if he werewith his own friends again."

  Steve winced at the words, knowing that they were only too true. Buta man who wishes to escape must act the part he has selected to theutmost of his ability, and he did so promptly.

  "You are right, Jean," he said. "It is only a little thing. Some foodhas upset me. In a little while I shall be better. You are a goodfellow to come so quickly. Now leave me, for I think I can sleep, andperhaps later the sentries will allow me to have some exercise."

  "Truly, monsieur. They are asking kindly after you already, formonsieur is a favourite. I will go to them, and you will walk when youfeel inclined."

  He went out of the room, closed the door, and slipped silently downthe passage.

  "He is better," he cried gaily as he came to the guard-house."Monsieur makes light of his pains. Another would be groaning andgroaning, till one would imagine he was on the point of death. But ourprisoner sips his milk and asks to sleep, so that he may trouble noone. Ah, yes, and he wishes to know if he may walk in the courtyardlater, just to exercise, you understand."

  "Certainly," came the answer. "Let monsieur walk if he wishes, thoughone would have thought that it would have been better were he to keephis bed till to-morrow. But there, these English are strange. Theywalk and walk, just for exercise as they say. Surely a man is betterand lives longer when he rests, and rests often."

  Steve did not long remain on his couch. In a little while he wasseated at the table with which he had been provided, and was engagedin writing. To the commandant he scribbled a few lines thanking himfor his constant courtesy and kindness, and stating deliberately thathe was tired of being a prisoner, and intended to escape if possible.Then he wrote a short note for his servant, enclosing a handsomeamount of money and many thanks for his attention. Also he gave himinstructions to make his adieus to a number of friends in the garrison.

  "Now I am ready," he thought. "It is dark now, and must be aboutseven o'clock. I shall wait till ten, and then go out. If they aresuspicious I will return and then creep out again."

  He threw himself on his bed and dozed for a long while, till a stepoutside roused him. He sat up then to find Jean standing over hiscouch.

  "Monsieur is better?" he asked. "Then he will sleep, and to-morrow Iwill come later than usual to rouse him. Monsieur has no pain?"

  "Pain! You are a wonderful physician," answered Steve heartily. "Ideclare that I never felt better in all my life. What is the nightlike, Jean?"

  "Fine, monsieur, but somewhat dark. It is also crisp, and cold forthis time of the year."

  "Then it is just the night to brace me up. I shall have a stroll,Jean, and then turn in. Yes, wake me late to-morrow, and, by the way,I am hungry."

  Jean was delighted with his master, and promptly produced food.

  "You are a strange person, monsieur," he said with a grin ofsatisfaction. "You are ill and in great pain at one moment, and then,behold! after a little sleep you are well again and wish to eat and towalk."

  "You forget. There was the warm milk, and Jean gave it to me," smiledSteve. "But I am hard. I have roughed it in the forests ever since Iwas a little fellow, and have h
ad very little illness."

  He sat down at the table and ate a hearty meal. Then he lit his pipeand strolled into the courtyard, passing a few words with the sentries.

  "He is a fine young fellow, this monsieur," said one, to his comrade,when Steve had passed on. "If all are like him we shall have but apoor chance. Jacques, can you tell me why it is that our prisoner hasnever attempted an escape?"

  "Perhaps he is afraid, comrade. Men have been shot for that in thelast few months."

  "Afraid! Not he!" came the answer. "It is this way, Jacques. Monsieuris a man of honour, though he is only a youngster. He has been onparole up till lately, and that is why he has made no attempt. Asto why he does not go now, well, I will give you the reason. He isno fool, comrade. Understand that. He is no fool, I say, for heknows that the sentries here are old soldiers and keep a good watch.Besides, could a cat escape from this place, and if it did, whereis it to go? Nowhere! Unless a prisoner is tired of life and throwshimself into the river. That would be better than to be butcheredby the red villains whom we have hanging about the place. Tobacco,Jacques? Help yourself, but be gentle, please, for I have but myslender pay and allowances, and a smoke is a luxury."

  They stood together chatting for a while, and then separated to patrolthe courtyard, passing Steve on each occasion and noticing that he waswalking up and down rapidly, as was often his custom.

  "_Vraiment!_ These English make me smile," laughed one of the men, ashe met his comrade opposite the guard-house. "One would think thatmonsieur earned his rations by walking this place. Now, if I werehe----"

  "You would draw the rations first and sleep, leaving another to dothe walking," was the laughing answer. "Peste take these English.It is because they are so energetic that they still keep up theiropposition. Others would have given in long ago after suffering somany defeats."

  They stood together chatting for a time, their talk turning upon thesurrender of Fort William Henry and the massacre which followed. Thenthey shook their heads and agreed that such a catastrophe would haveruined their own cause, while, strangely enough, it had made the enemyeven more determined.

  And while they chatted Steve gradually approached the wall, andfinally halted at the spot where Silver Fox had given his signal. Itwas absolutely dark down below, and though he peered into the blackshadows, even his trained eyes failed to see any object. He was in theact of withdrawing his head when there was a movement below, and thefaint bark of a dog. Then someone whispered.

  "Steve? Is that you, lad? Then catch this tackle."

  Something swished in the air, a bright object shot up from the blackabyss, and the prisoner gripped an iron hook, to which a stout ropewas attached. To place the hook in position was the work of a second,and within a minute he was down at the bottom of the wall, with hishand gripped firmly in that of his father.

  "Come. They will discover that you are gone in a very few secondsperhaps, and then there will be a noise. Ah! The sentries are calling."

  Steve clutched at his father's sleeve, and allowed himself to be ledaway through the darkness. They ran along the narrow path, darted outinto one of the roads which ascend the cliff, and soon afterwards weremaking their way along another path.

  "They're at it! Listen to 'em shoutin'."

  Steve suddenly heard a well-remembered voice speaking a foot or twobehind him, and with a gasp of surprise realised that Hunting Jim wasone of the party. But he had no time to greet him, and, indeed, littleopportunity of doing so, for Judge Mainwaring hurried him on at arapid pace, shouts from the fort having plainly shown them that theescape was already discovered. In fact, the sentries who had been soeagerly discussing the English nation and their idiotic absurdities,as they were pleased to call several of their customs, were smartfellows, in spite of all their chatter. Steve had been gone less thana minute when one of the men became suspicious.

  "_Ma foi_, but I believe this monsieur has given us the slip already,"he suddenly exclaimed. "I cannot see him. Jacques, get along andreport if he is there."

  The last-named ran along the courtyard, and presently his voice washeard. "He is nowhere to be seen," he cried. "Had we not better fireso as to give the alarm?"

  "Fire! And so wake the whole garrison! Not for worlds. Get across tomonsieur's quarters, and report if he is there. It is possible that heentered while our backs were turned."

  It was not long ere the sentry returned with the news that Steve'sroom was empty, and then, indeed, the alarm was sounded. The sentriesshouted to the sergeant of the guard, and the sergeant, havingpromptly turned his guard out and interrogated the sentries, rousedthe officer in command of the fort. A cannon was then fired, a signalagreed upon beforehand to mean that a prisoner had escaped, and verysoon the garrison was acquainted of the fact.

  "Now to the left," whispered Steve's father when they had run thebetter part of a mile and were on the outskirts of the city. "That isexcellent. We are now on the plains of Abraham, and in a little whileshould be in safety."

  Breaking into a fast walk, the fugitives kept straight ahead foranother mile, till they came to a dip in the ground. There was thereflection of a fire hanging over the dip, and presently Steve caughtsight of a native wigwam of large proportions. His father gave a cryof delight, and in a few seconds they were all inside. A smotheredgreeting welcomed them, and at once Steve was gripping the many handsheld out to him, for there were now seven persons crowded into thewigwam, and a lantern which hung to one of the roof poles shone ontheir painted faces, and enabled the rescued prisoner to see them. Notthat he easily recognised these friends, for they were all heavilydaubed with paint and decked out in all the feathers and finery ofthe Huron Indians. However, he was sure of his father, the huge,raw-boned chief who stood beside him, holding him affectionately bythe shoulder, for the voice betrayed him at once. But for that, Stevewould have passed him by without recognition, for the Judge had shavedhis beard, and now presented a smooth face, than which there was nonemore noticeable for the power and reserve which it expressed.

  "You ain't forgot me, Cap'n, I hope," burst in one of the men, paintedhideously to represent a fox. "You ain't quite forgot Pete, as took upquarters with yer 'way back thar down by Lake St. George."

  "Nor me, if ye plaze, Masther Steve, Cap'n, beggin' yer honour'spardon," said someone else, pushing to the front and holding out ahuge paw, which was painted now, but which at other times was freckledand tanned to a colour that matched that of an Indian. It was Mac, agrin stretching from ear to ear, clean shaven, and with his brilliantlocks cut back to form the conventional scalp lock of the Hurons,and dyed; yes, Mac boasted hair of the blackest jet now, and but forhis speech, his huge grin, and his squat, powerful figure, was quiteunrecognisable.

  "You've took the Cap'n aback," cried Jim, pushing Mac aside. "It ain'tlikely as he'd recognise an old pal in a beauty sich as you air. Why,Mac, you was never so good-lookin' in all yer life before, and efyou'll take a bit of advice from me, why, you'll stick where yer air.Jest take to bein' a brave for the rest of yer natural existence."

  That brought a still wider grin to the broad face before Steve, a grinwhich seemed to sever it into two complete portions, and which showeda most excellent set of teeth.

  "Bad scran to ye now, Huntin' Jim, ef I don't take ye by the neckthis instant and scalp ye. 'Tis yerself that's uncommon handsometo-day. Stand up and let the Cap'n see ye."

  He retired into the background, and gave Steve an opportunity ofsetting eyes on the tall trapper who had been such a staunch friend.He, too, was decked as an Indian, and in his case the disguise wasperhaps even more natural than in that of the others. For Jim wastall and wiry. He was trained by constant wanderings in the forestto the very last ounce, and his muscles, though small and not ofMac's proportions, stood out like whipcord. Then, too, his sharp andintelligent features helped in the deception, while the habits whichthis old hunter had learned in the fifty years of his busy life hadgiven him that imperturbable look common to the Indians.

  "You was never so
surprised in all yer life, Cap'n, I reckon," hesaid. "You was mighty sick of roostin' up there in the fort, and nodoubt thinkin' of having a turn for liberty yerself. Then Silver Foxcome into the fort, and I'll bet what yer like that he walked about asef he'd been thar many a time, and as ef he wasn't on no account to behurried. He's that cool, he's like an icicle."

  "He is a gallant fellow, and I thank him. Chief, I owe a lot to you aswell as to these other friends. But who is the stranger?"

  A tall Indian had stood in the background looking on at the scene witha half-suppressed air of contempt on his finely chiselled features,for your Indian could not understand the need for such warmth andsuch hand-shakings over a meeting. Silver Fox beckoned to him.

  "This is my brother, Hawk," he said, "this is Flying Bird, a Mohawkonce, and later a Huron. He is now again one of our tribe."

  "And thereby hangs the tale of your release, my boy," broke in Mr.Mainwaring. "The story is soon told. This Flying Bird was born in thesame wigwam as our old friend Silver Fox, and would have been thereto this day had not the village been raided. The Hurons made a suddendescent, and Flying Bird was carried away. He was then seventeen, andalmost a brave. He was spared, and became one of the Hurons, marryinginto the tribe. Now he has lost his wife, and taking advantage of thefact that the Hurons were marching into the country adjacent to thatin which the Mohawks lived, he made a journey to find Silver Fox. Hecame in the nick of time. I had just returned to find you a prisoner,and the band of scouts which you had formed near Fort William Henryabout to be disbanded. They had been fortunate in escaping from thefort before the surrender, and of course there was little left forthem to do.

  "Well, we made plans to meet again at the breaking of the winter, andtwo months ago we gathered at Silver Fox's village. His brother hadreturned to Canada for the cold months, so as to allay suspicion, andwe fell in with him ten days ago south of the St. Lawrence. As to howwe reached that part, why, the movements of our troops are beginningto worry the French, and they are concentrating at the threatenedplaces, leaving the upper reaches of the Richelieu and the countryto the west of that river almost denuded of trappers and Indians. Weslipped through, and----"

  "And here you are, father. What is the next move?"

  "We wait here for a week perhaps, till the hue and cry for you isover. Then we take to the river, capture some sort of craft, and sailfor Nova Scotia."

  Everything had, in fact, been carefully mapped out, and so far theplans of the rescue party had gone without a hitch. But there wasa great deal still to be done, and many dangers would have to befaced before Steve and his friends could hope to reach safety again.However, they were not the men to flinch at the thought of danger.Indeed, they rather enjoyed the prospect and the novelty of theirpresent position, and on the following morning eagerly scanned thecity and its neighbourhood for signs of searchers.

  "Fortunately for us they have very few Indians at their beck and calljust now," said Mr. Mainwaring, "for they have sent them down toTiconderoga and to the country about Louisbourg. There are a few lazyfellows still remaining, the ne'er-do-wells of the various tribes, andthere is of course this small party of Hurons."

  He smiled at Steve, and proceeded.

  "You see, there was need for a party to lie close to Quebec, for itwould have been impossible to spirit you away from the city in the fewhours we had at our disposal. You will see why shortly, for the riverwill swarm with canoes, and what Indians there are will be sent offin search of your tracks. We had to have some arrangement whereby wecould take up our quarters near the city, and Jim settled the mattervery quickly."

  "Thar warn't nothin' in it," growled the trapper. "We wanted to lie uphere, and Flyin' Bird gave us the word that all the redskin varmintwas off to other parts. Waal, Cap'n, we fixed it up that we shouldbe a kind of deputation of Injuns from the Huron tribe come back tocomplain of the favouritism shown to other redskins. That air a likelytale, for these braves air always rowin' among theirselves. Flyin'Bird's seen the commandant, they've had a palaver. We're here waitin'for a proper palaver with this officer, and I reckon when he's readywe won't be so anxious to get our grievance to his ears. But thereain't no hurry. The French know how to deal with redskins, and they'velarned long ago that time ain't anythin', that ef yer hurry mattersyer show unnatural weakness and anxiety. So this officer'll wait awhile, and when he sends, he won't find no one to greet him."

  "And meanwhile we are fairly safe from interference," chimed in Mr.Mainwaring. "The Hurons are accustomed to stand aloof from otherbraves, and therefore we are hardly likely to have visitors. If somecome, Flying Bird will entertain them."

  Daylight showed that the authorities at Quebec were determined toretake their late prisoner if possible. Canoes filled with soldiersand trappers swarmed on the river, and the steep shore all along oneither side of the city was closely scrutinised. Then a strong partywas sent out along the banks of the St. Charles river, for that was alikely direction for a fugitive to take. Once a party of trappers evencame to the Huron wigwam lying in the hollow.

  "We seek a pale face who has broken away from the city," said theirspokesman, addressing Flying Bird, who alone appeared to meet them."Have you seen traces of him. He broke away last night."

  "Then his trail will have been stamped out by the coming and going ofthe people," was the curt answer. "Here, however, there may be traces,my brothers. I have not looked for them, but if they are here surelyyou who are accustomed to the forest and the trail should be able todiscover them. For us, we are resting. We require favours before wewill help your countrymen."

  Flying Bird remained seated all the while, smoking placidly. TheFrenchmen stared at him doubtfully, muttered words beneath theirbreath, and moved away.

  "Let the dog sit there and rot if he will," growled

  "WE SEEK A PALE FACE WHO HAS BROKEN AWAY FROM THECITY"]

  one. "These Indians are either completely out of control, and far tooeager even for our hot bloods, or they are sulky and will not stir afinger. Let the dog sit and smoke."

  They moved away in none of the best tempers, for these trappers andthe French in general were more than beginning to see that the pricethey had to pay for the use of their numerous tribes of ruthlesssavages would prove heavy in the end. Already they knew that it hadroused the British from their apathy. There were tales even then inQuebec that the backwoodsman and the regular who fought for Englandhad a new battle cry, that bayonets were more vengeful and terriblethan ever before.

  A week later the hue and cry had died down, and the party made readyto escape. Flying Bird sauntered off towards Quebec early in themorning, his musket over his shoulder, and a fishing line strung tohis belt. Entering a canoe down by the stage, he paddled out into theriver, rounded the promontory to the west of Quebec, and sent hiscraft along parallel to the steep cliff, at the top of which lay thePlains of Abraham. His comrades above saw him occasionally, for he hadpaddled to the far shore, and was diligently fishing. He was there atdusk, and those who had the curiosity to look at him from the city sawthat he was pulling up his line and preparing to return home.

  "It will be dark by the time he is over this side of the river," saidSteve's father, "and by that time we shall be near him. You can findthis trail, Silver Fox?"

  "On the darkest night, Chief."

  "Then we will go. Pick up your traps, boys."

  The party filed out of the wigwam, leaving their late home standing,and, with the Indian leading, strode off towards the edge of thecliff. Steve had been decked as a Huron, and he took his placethird in the line. They reached the edge, and without the smallesthesitation the Indian chief scrambled over it.

  "Be careful, brothers," he cautioned them. "The way is steep. A fallwould end in death."

  One by one in quick succession they lowered themselves over the edge,and gripping boulders and grass and the roots of bushes, finallyreached the bank below. The canoe was there, and they stepped into itsilently. Jim pushed off from the shore, and in a little while theywer
e shooting down the centre of the river, hidden in the darkness,from which they watched a hundred and more twinkling lights whichglimmered from the windows of the fairy city of Quebec.