On the Trail of Pontiac Part 24

Hour after hour went by and night came on. A stricter watch than ever was kept, but as before neither Indian or Frenchman showed himself. More than this, the night birds and owls uttered their cries as usual, mingled with the bark of a fox and the mournful howling of several wolves, all of which told that the vicinity was most likely entirely free from human beings.

"They wanted to catch us unawares, and they have discovered their mistake,"

said one frontiersman; and such was probably the case, for the whole of the night and the following morning pa.s.sed without further alarm.

Some of those at the post were now impatient to go out and follow up the enemy, but others demurred, stating that their numbers were too small.

"If those wretches are in hiding, they'd wipe us out in no time," said Sanderson. "Better stay where we are for the present."

Nevertheless James Morris and Tony Jadwin went out, on a short scouting expedition, along the river and then for a few hundred feet into the forest. They advanced with great caution, taking care not to expose themselves in the open, and carrying their guns ready for use, should any of the enemy show themselves.

"We cannot afford to take many chances," said James Morris, as they moved forward. "Our force at the post is too small."

"Wish we had a company of Royal Americans here, to knock 'em out," said Jadwin.

Three hours were spent on the scouting tour, and both of the men were on the point of turning back to the fort, satisfied that the Frenchmen and Indians had indeed given up the proposed attack, when they heard the sound of rapid footsteps, and a man burst into view, running with all his might and main.

"Halt!" cried James Morris, who at the first sound had raised his musket, while Jadwin did the same.

"Don't shoot!" came back, in the well-known voice of Sam Barringford.

"Sam!" cried the trader, lowering his weapon, "what does this mean?"

"It means I'm 'most out o' breath with runnin'" gasped the old frontiersman. "But git to the post--the French and Indians air a-comin'!"

Sam Barringford had come up close to the others, and now without more words all three headed for the post. It was easy to discern that the old frontiersman was well-nigh exhausted, and he was glad enough to take hold of James Morris' shoulder on one side and Tony Jadwin's on the other.

"Been a prisoner of them skunks, fire burn 'em!" he explained. "I'll tell ye all about it later. Have ye heard o' Henry, an' the others?"

"Yes, Henry is safe and so are most of the others. Ca.s.s and Lampton are dead. We were afraid you had been killed, too, until Louis Glotte told us you were a prisoner." And then James Morris told of the manner in which Dave, Jadwin, and Sanderson had followed up the trail.

"Glad ye got Glotte a prisoner," said Barringford. "He is 'most as mean a skunk as Jean Bevoir."

They now came in view of the post and were quickly admitted by those on guard.

"Sam Barringford!" cried Dave and Henry in a breath, and ran up to greet their old friend.

After he had been fed and allowed to rest a bit, Barringford told his story in detail. He said he had followed Jean Bevoir and the others to the river near which the Indian village was located. A stray Indian dog had exposed his hiding place, and after a desperate fight in which one Indian had been killed and he himself had been cut in the shoulder with a tomahawk, they had succeeded in making him a prisoner. He had been put into the wigwam already mentioned, with his hands bound behind him and to a stake driven deeply into the soil. He knew of the message sent in by Pontiac, and added that numerous other attacks were to be made on forts and settlements throughout the West.

"But how did you get away?" asked Dave.

"Easier nor I expected," was the old frontiersman's answer. "As soon as it was settled the post should be attacked there was some confusion, and the guard left the wigwam. I yanked and pulled with all my might and at last the stake came out of the ground. Then I rolled to the back of the wigwam and slipped under the skins to some bushes. As soon as I was that far, I got on my feet and legged it for all I knew how. I ran along the river for about a mile, because I didn't know how to get across with my hands tied.

At last I got the rawhides loose and slipped 'em, and then I came over at a shallow spot where I didn't have to swim but a few yards. I ran as fast as I could, for I didn't know how soon the attack would start."

"Something has gone wrong, or they would be here by this time," put in Sanderson.

Glotte viewed the coming of Sam Barringford with great astonishment. "How you geet avay?" he asked.

"That is my business, Glotte," answered the old frontiersman. "I reckon you thought I couldn't do it, eh?" And he chuckled to himself.

"Zat fellow ees a sharp one," was the Frenchman's comment. "He ees like ze flea to slip avay, _oui!_"

Throughout the remainder of the night the guard remained as watchful as ever. But it was labor lost, for neither French nor Indians showed themselves.

At daybreak White Buffalo said he would go out on another scouting tour, taking with him two of his braves. They moved off by the way of the river bank and then made a large semicircle, returning to the post from a diametrically opposite direction.

"Wanderers and bad Frenchmen all gone," announced the chief, on coming back. "They came, but did not fight."

"Do you mean to say that they have been here?" cried James Morris.

White Buffalo nodded several times. "Five canoes come down the river, land by the four big trees. The trail is in the mud and the wet gra.s.s--so many Frenchmen"--he held up five fingers--"and so many Indians"--holding up both hands twice and then four fingers, a total of twenty-four.

"Where did they go to?" asked Henry.

"Go into the woods and stand. Two walk around to the hill--one canoe land on other side of river and Indians go up past the post--then come back.

Then all gone once more. Afraid to fight! The Frenchmen and the Wanderers are cowards!" And the face of the Delaware showed his deep disdain.

"It must be true," put in Sanderson. "They most likely met the Indian who came here first, and then the fellow with Glotte, and both told 'em it would be of no use--that we were too strong for them."

"Well, if they are gone, I hope they don't come back again," said Dave, and a number standing around echoed the sentiment.

CHAPTER XXII

THE ROCK BY THE RIVER

The Indians did not return, and in forty-eight hours the scare was over, and the hunters and trappers sallied forth from the trading-post as before, confident that Sanderson had been right,--that the enemy had thought the little garrison too strong for them.

But this was a mistake. Jean Bevoir and Flat Nose had been eager for the fight, but word had come in at the last moment that the attack must be put off, and such was the power of Pontiac and other great chiefs of that vicinity that Flat Nose obeyed. As it was impossible for the handful of Frenchmen under Bevoir to do anything alone the whole scheme fell through, and then Bevoir lost no time in getting back to where he had left the loot from the pack-train, claiming that which had been allotted to him and his men, and getting away further to the northwestward, where he felt tolerably safe from pursuit.

How far the conspiracy to fall upon the English on the frontier in the summer of 1762 was concocted by Pontiac will perhaps never be known. Some historians have contended that he was responsible for it in its entirety, while others have told us that the real Pontiac conspiracy was confined to the awful uprising which took place just one year later. But be that as it may, it is undoubtedly true that Pontiac hated the English intensely and that it galled him exceedingly to see them pushing further and further to the north and the west. His own lands around the Great Lakes were being invaded, and when his tribe went to the English for redress they got but scant attention.

The summer of 1762 proved to be one of anxiety and uncertainty for all on or near the frontier. To the northward the Iroquois, or Mingoes as they were commonly called, were held in check by Sir William Johnson, but in western New York and western Pennsylvania the Wyandots, the Shawanoes, and certain tribes of the Delawares did what they could to hara.s.s the pioneers, burning cabins and sheds at night, stealing crops and cattle, and occasionally murdering men, women, and children, or carrying the latter off into captivity. There were no battles, but the pioneers and frontiersmen retaliated, and as winter came on the feeling of bitterness increased. No one felt safe, and all wondered what new outrage would happen next.

The Delawares have been mentioned as taking part in these evil doings, and as White Buffalo and his followers were Delawares, it is but right that their standing should be explained. In years gone by the Delawares had been a mighty tribe, numbering over a hundred villages of importance. But internal strife had done its work, and now the villages were widely scattered, so that Delawares could be found from Virginia in the South to the Great Lakes in the North and as far west as the Mississippi. Those who remained near the eastern coast generally sided with the English, while the others either strove to remain neutral or threw in their fortunes with the French.

It must not be supposed that James Morris allowed matters to rest after it became known that no attack would be made upon the trading-post. He wished to recover the stolen goods and also the fifty pounds which had been taken from Sam Barringford by Jean Bevoir at the time the old frontiersman was a prisoner at the Wanderers' village.

An expedition was organized, consisting of the trader and seven whites and Indians, and they remained out the best part of a week, hunting for the Wanderers and for Bevoir and his companions. But the Wanderers had moved and Bevoir had likewise disappeared, and the trail was lost at the river bank.

"I suppose I can say good-by to both money and goods," said James Morris soberly. "I declare, it's too bad!"

"I'll try to make it right with ye about the money," said Barringford.

"No, Sam, I don't want you to do that. You did your best and it's not your fault that the money is gone, nor the goods either. But I'd give a few pounds to get hold of Bevoir and his crowd."