CHAPTER X
IN WHICH NATHAN FINDS THE PAPERS
Among the last to leave Forty Fort after its surrender was BarnabasOtter. In the dusk of the evening he slipped through the gate withothers, and made his way, unobserved, to a large rock several hundredyards back from the river. He was joined almost immediately by Nathan,and presently Reuben Atwood and Collum McNicol arrived at the same spot.The two latter knew all about Captain Stanbury's papers, and were toassist in getting them. The little party had previously arranged to meethere secretly for this purpose, and they hoped to complete their taskand push some miles down the Susquehanna that same night.
"All here, are ye?" said Collum McNicol, who was the last to arrive."Let's make haste and have done with the business. My heart is soreafter what I've seen yonder this afternoon--"
"Peace, man," interrupted Barnabas. "The less said the better. We're allsore at heart, I'm thinking--aye, an' something more. I feel myself likea panther stripped of her cubs. Don't put fire to our passions, or we'llbe tempted to some desperate deed."
"It ain't likely, with not a fire-arm among us," said Atwood. "There'sno chance of a shot at Tory or redskin. We must bide our time forvengeance till we're back with the army."
"Aye, we'll have a reckoning then," replied Barnabas. "Every Redcoatwill stand for Wyoming--Hist! who comes?"
Soft footsteps were heard, and a settler named Morgan Proud glided up tothe rock. "Four of ye?" he said, peering at the group. "I won't beintrudin', men, but I followed hither for a purpose. Do you want arms?"
"Do we?" exclaimed Barnabas. "An' kin you pervide them, man?"
"That I can," said Proud. "When we come up to the fort from Wilkesbarreyesterday--ten of us--we brought nearly two muskets apiece along. Butwe hid the guns and ammunition down by the river, half expectin' thefort would be surrendered and all arms given up. And we acted wisely--"
"Lead the way, man," broke in Barnabas. "This deed'll win you a goldencrown some day. But are you sure the stuff is there yet?"
"They're well hid," replied Proud, "and I told our men, who juststarted, to take a musket apiece and leave the rest. Will your partyjoin us, Barnabas? We're going down river in flat-boats fromWilkesbarre."
"We have an errand over yonder first," said Barnabas, jerking his thumbnorthward. "We might ketch up with you, but don't wait on us."
"No, we'll take no risk," Proud answered, "seein' as we'll have womenand children dependin' on us. But you're welcome to the arms all thesame."
Without further speech he led the party obliquely toward the river, andthey came speedily to a windfall under the bluff. Proud's friends hadbeen here and gone, but the extra muskets were safe in their hidingplace. The man handed out the requisite number, adding a generous supplyof powder and ball.
"I'll wait here a bit," he said. "There'll be others coming by, and Ihave three guns left."
Barnabas and his companions wished him farewell and good luck, and thenmounted the bank and struck into the woods. Now that they were armedthey felt like new men, and a great weight was lifted from their minds.In single file they made a detour to the rear of the fort, and pressedrapidly northeast through the woods for a mile and a half, speaking nota word on the way. Every heart beat faster as the northern edge of thebattle-field was skirted, and now a sharp turn was made to the left. Tenminutes later, as the moon peeped above the horizon, the party reached alittle cabin in a clearing. The tears came into Nathan's eyes as he sawthe home where his happy boyhood had been spent--the spot sacred to thememory of his lost father. Here was the spring, and there the out-shedwhere the winter's supply of logs was always stored. The path leadingto the step could still be traced between the weeds and grass.
"Cheer up, lad," said Barnabas, divining his thoughts. "It'll all comeright in the future. And now we'll be making that search."
They entered the cabin, the door of which was wide open. It had escapedthe torch of the Indians, and the interior was much as it had been lefton the day when Captain Stanbury started for the war. The end window wasclosed, but the shutter was off the one in front. The ladder still ledto the sleeping-loft overhead, and in the room down-stairs were a tableand a broken chair. A few earthen dishes stood on the shelf, and a layerof ashes covered the fireplace.
"It's a bit out of the way," remarked Barnabas, looking around, "an'that's why no one has lived here since. Where shall we begin, lad?Which, to your mind, is the most likely spot? The captain said thepapers were under the floor."
"I never knew the boards to be loose," Nathan answered, in a huskyvoice. "Suppose we try the fireplace."
"A good idea," approved Barnabas. By the light of the moon he scrapedthe ashes off the big slab of stone that was set in the floor of thechimney, and he was about to pry the stone itself loose when somethingseemed to occur to him. He straightened up, and glanced toward the door.
"What is the matter?" asked Nathan.
"I'm thinking of Simon Glass," Barnabas answered.
"Why, I forgot all about him," exclaimed Nathan. "He and what was leftof his party must have turned back. I didn't see them at the fort."
"But I did, lad," declared Barnabas. "Glass marched in with the Rangers,and that young Godfrey was close behind him."
"Yes, I seen 'em both," corroborated Atwood.
"I was watching the Indians all the time, and Colonel Butler," saidNathan. "So Glass has arrived then? But you don't think he'll give usany more trouble?"
Barnabas only shook his head.
"McNicol," he said, "stand yonder by the door, an' keep your ears to thewood. Watchin' won't come amiss."
The man went to his post, and Barnabas stooped down and lifted the slab.He dropped to his knees, dug rapidly into the dirt with a knife, andlifted out a flat tin box, much rusted. He forced the lid open andhanded Nathan a packet of papers sealed with green wax.
The lad pressed it reverently to his lips. "I won't look at them," hedeclared. "The seal shall remain unbroken until I find my father, oruntil I am satisfied that he is dead."
"It would be wise to learn the contents, lad," said Barnabas.
Nathan shook his head. "My father's secret is sacred to me," he replied."If he is alive, he would wish me to guard it, I know. But the papersmust not be lost. Will you keep them for me?"
BARNABAS HANDED NATHAN A PACKET OF PAPERS]
Barnabas readily--even eagerly--assented. The packet was not large, andhe thrust it deep down into one of his wide-topped boots. "It's justdamp enough not to crackle," he said, as he dropped the slab back intoplace, and cunningly strewed the ashes over it again--a wiser bit offorethought than he knew.
"Now," he added. "We'll be off--"
"Hist, men!" McNicol interrupted, in a whisper. "Come hither, quick!"
The three joined the Scotchman at the door, but they did not need to askwhat he meant. The forest was alive with whispering voices--with thepassage of feet over dry twigs and rustling grass. A light danced amongthe thick foliage.
It was too late for retreat, and, as the little band crouched behind theshadowy doorway, they beheld a startling sight.
By twos and threes a group of Tories and Indians glided into the glade,close to the spring. The two foremost held a shrinking man between them,and as they came nearer, one said aloud, in a familiar voice that madeNathan shudder: "Is this the place, you rebel dog?"
"It's Captain Stanbury's cabin," muttered the prisoner, who hadevidently been made to serve as an unwilling guide.
"You know what you'll get if you're lying," Simon Glass--for it washe--replied with an oath. "Come, men," he added.
"God help us!" whispered Barnabas. "There's no escape unless we kin keephid. But they're comin' to the cabin, an' Colonel Butler's promise won'tcount with such fiends. They'll kill every man of us in cold blood."
Low as the words were spoken, they reached the ears of the enemy, and acreaking noise made by McCollum's heavy boots completed the betrayal."There are rebels here!" roared Simon Glass. "Don't let a blasted oneescape! Surround th
e cabin!"
"It's all up," cried Barnabas. "Give 'em a volley, an' remember themassacre. Now--fire!"
Four muskets flashed and roared, and, as the echo fled down the valley,the night rang with yells of rage and agony.
There was no time to look for the result of the volley through thedrifting smoke. Barnabas instantly slammed the door shut, and draggedthe heavy table against it. "Down, all of you," he shouted. "Stick tothe floor. Nathan, you guard the rear wall, an' watch through the cracksof the logs. McNicol, you an' Atwood take the two ends. I'll tend to theopen winder here in front."
The three crawled to their posts of duty, and for a time the silenceoutside was broken only by an occasional moan of pain. The wary enemyhad taken to cover at once, until they could learn the strength of theirassailants.
"Did you kill Glass?" McNicol whispered across the room.
"He ain't in sight," replied Barnabas. "He moved his head just as Ifired. The Tory with him is lyin' dead here on the grass, an' theprisoner is beside him--he's better off, for he'd a been tomahawkedanyway. An' there's a wounded Indian dragging hisself past the spring.I won't waste powder on the wretch."
"Glass must have learned where we were bound, and followed us here forrevenge," said Nathan.
"It's either that or a deeper motive," Barnabas answered, and even as hespoke a hot fire was opened on the cabin from three sides. The fusilladelasted for several minutes, the bullets tearing through the crevices orburying themselves in the thick logs, but by crouching flat all escapedharm.
As the fire slackened the enemy boldly showed themselves here and therein the moonlight, but they learned a lesson in prudence when McNicolshot two of their number from a loophole, and Atwood picked off a third.Barnabas kept blazing away at the gleam of a torch some distance off inthe wood, where a part of the enemy was probably assembled. As nearly ascould be judged, the besieging force numbered nearly a score.
"It's a bad lookout," said Atwood, "we can't count on help from any ofthe settlers."
"More likely the shooting will bring the whole party from the fort,"replied Barnabas. "We might make a dash by the rear if there was awinder. The enemy ain't showed up on that side yet."
"They're here now," whispered Nathan. "I see the bushes moving--" Bang!the lad's musket cracked, and with a screech an Indian fell dead. Twomore who had been reconnoitering the rear of the cabin bounded into thewoods.
"That's the way to do it," said Barnabas. "Load quickly, men, an' don'tall let your muskets get empty at once."
An interval of silence followed, lasting perhaps ten minutes, and then aharsh voice from the forest called for a truce.
"Only one kin come near," shouted Barnabas. "What do you want, Glass, ifthat's you?"
"I'm willing to make fair terms," replied the Tory, who was careful tokeep hidden. "Come out and give up your arms, and not one of you shallbe hurt."
"We'd sooner surrender to a rattlesnake than to you, Simon," Barnabasanswered. "We're goin' to hold the cabin, an' that's our last word."
Glass accepted the ultimatum with a torrent of profanity and threats,and a moment later the firing recommenced. For some minutes the bulletsrained against the logs, while the besieged, flattened on the floor,kept watch at loopholes and crevices for any of the enemy who mightexpose themselves. The plucky little band well realized that their fightwas desperate and well-nigh hopeless, but not a word or sign of fearbetrayed what they felt.
Presently the firing ceased, and now there were indications that the foeintended to make a combined rush. So certain of this was Barnabas thathe summoned Nathan and his companions to the front wall. But for atleast once in his life the old woodsman was outmatched. The Indians andTories advanced only to the edge of the clearing, whence they let drivea straggling volley, and while this diversion was going on, threetorches were thrown from the rear upon the roof of the cabin.
A strong breeze happened to be blowing, and with amazing rapidity theflames took hold and spread. The roof was soon burned through inpatches, and now the loft floor caught fire. Clouds of suffocating smokerolled to the lower room, and a shower of sparks and blazing embers madethe situation unbearable.
"It's all up with us here," cried Barnabas, "an' there's nothin' left todo but die fightin'. Come, men, let's open the door, give the devils avolley, an' make a rush. Each one for hisself arter that, an' mebbe oneor two of us kin reach the woods."
In the Days of Washington: A Story of the American Revolution Page 10
