The King's Arrow Part 15

"Will there be any danger?" Jean enquired.

Dane smiled as he looked upon her sober face, and saw the anxious expression in her eyes.

"Nothing to worry about," he replied. "To some it might be a dangerous undertaking, but Pete and I have been at it so long that it has become almost second nature to us."

Jean said nothing more just then, but while her father and Dane talked, she whispered something to Mammy. At once the colored woman became very busy, and when at last Dane bade the Colonel good-bye, a basket filled with provisions was set before him.

"It's fo' yo' an' de Injun," Mammy explained. "I hope de Good Lo'd'll be wif yo', an' help yo' skedaddle dem rebels. But yo' can't do nuffin' wifout grub, Mistah Dane. No matt'r if yo' is in lub, yo' mus'

eat to lib."

Dane smiled as he took the basket, and thanked the big-hearted woman.

"I shall not forget your kindness, Mammy," he told her. "And neither will Pete. He has a great memory for such things. Why, all the Indians along the river know already what you have done for his little child, and they will also hear of this."

The memory of that night never pa.s.sed from Jean's mind. She accompanied Dane to the sh.o.r.e, and stood there for a few minutes after the two couriers had left, She knew that Dane loved her with all the strength of his manly nature, and she never felt this more than when he had held her in his arms and kissed her ere stepping into the canoe.

She did not want him to go, and how unfortunate it was that the summons should come to him in the midst of the merry-making, and when she was so happy. A spirit of depression suddenly swept upon her, which was foreign to her nature. She tried to banish it even after she returned to the house. But neither the cheerfulness of the fire, nor the conversation with her father and Mammy could dispel the strange feeling of some impending calamity.

CHAPTER XII

PLOTTERS IN COUNCIL

Leaving Jean standing upon the sh.o.r.e, Dane settled down to work and headed the canoe for the main channel. His time of idleness was now over, and he knew that stern duty lay ahead. Although it was hard for him to go away from the girl he loved, yet the spirit of a new adventure thrilled his soul. It was a call, insistent, imperative, and never had he disobeyed the voice. To him danger was a tonic, and the great wild with all its mystery and uncertainty was his playground.

His nature demanded activity, and the lure of something beyond was as breath to his being.

The bark canoe seemed like a thing of life as it cut through the water and the night, straight for the open. It trembled as with excitement, impelled by the strong arms wielding the paddles. It was well seasoned to such work. It was Pete's favourite craft, and it knew all the streams for leagues around. It had poked its nose into every creek, cove, and tributary of the St. John River from the Kennebacasis to the Shogomoc. It knew the windings of the Washademoak, and the rolling billows of windy Grand Lake had tested its endurance. It had battled with running ice; it had been borne over innumerable portages; and it had lain concealed in many secret places while enemies had sped by in the darkness but a few yards away. It bore the scars of ice, rocks, and bullets, and its long, lean body had been patched and repatched.

But notwithstanding all these years of hardships, it was as eager now as the hardy men who drove it forward to rush into new adventures.

Steadily Dane and Pete urged the springing craft onward. Seldom did they speak, and hardly a sound did they make as their paddles dipped rhythmically into the cold water. The sky was overcast, and not a star was to be seen. No lights gleamed along the sh.o.r.e. They were completely enwrapped by night and silence, securely enfolded in Nature's great secret embrace.

Reaching at length the upper end of an island which divides the river, they ran the canoe ash.o.r.e, rested, and ate some of the food Jean and Old Mammy had so thoughtfully prepared. They talked in low voices, and Pete explained the cause of his long absence, where he had been, and how for some time he had been trailing the rebels until he had at last discovered the place and night of meeting to arrange plans for united action.

"How did you know where I was?" Dane asked. "I didn't tell any one where I was going."

"Me know, a'right. Me know white woman. Me know Dane."

"You were sure that I couldn't keep away from her?"

"A-ha-ha."

"But I never did such a thing before, Pete. When did you ever know me to run after a woman?"

"Dane find good white woman. Dane mak' no mistake."

"I have made no mistake," was the emphatic reply. "I am glad you like her, Pete."

"White woman good; tak' care babby, all sam' mamma. Bimeby Pete----"

He suddenly paused, and laid his right hand upon his companion's arm.

But Dane's ears were as keen as his own, and he, too, had heard the sound of an approaching canoe. It was coming down river, and in a few minutes it was abreast of them. Nothing could the two concealed men see, but as the strange craft was sweeping by, a voice broke the silence.

"Is everything ready?" was the question Dane heard asked.

"Yes, Seth's looking after the plans," came a reply.

Nothing more could Dane distinguish, although he strained his ears to hear something further. To him that canoe speeding through the night, and the words he had overheard, had a sinister meaning. That it was Seth Lupin to whom reference had been made, there could be no doubt.

So the villain was still lurking around. What were the plans he was looking after? Had they anything to do with Jean? He believed they had, and the thought caused him to give the canoe a savage thrust from the sh.o.r.e, which sent it reeling back into midstream, He must get through with this task, and then hurry as quickly as possible to the girl he loved. But who were the ones in the canoe? From their words he felt sure that they were white men. In what way were they connected with Seth Lupin, and whither were they bound?

He thought of all this as the canoe moved swiftly up the river, and he racked his brains in an effort to solve the problem of the plans Seth was looking after. He questioned Pete closely, but the Indian had not seen the villain nor heard anything about him.

In about an hour's time they came to a narrow channel which connected the river with a lake-like body of water several miles in extent, and known by the Indians as the "Wedneebak." Here they ran the canoe ash.o.r.e, drew it out of the water and carried it up the bank and a short distance into the forest. Breaking off some fir boughs, they made for themselves beds upon the ground. Then taking off their jackets, they placed them over their bodies, and, lulled by the wind among the tree-tops, they were soon fast asleep.

Early dawn found them both awake, and watching with the keenest interest the narrow entrance to the Wedneebak. They ate sparingly of the food from the basket, hoping to make it last throughout the day.

The morning was cold, but they did not dare to light a fire lest it should betray their presence. They took turns in watching the river and in moving about, so in this manner they were able to keep fairly warm.

During the morning Dane made a trip to a hill some distance inland, where from the upper branches of a large tree he obtained an excellent view of the upper stretch of the Wedneebak. He wished to learn if any of the rebels had already arrived for the council. From this elevated position his eyes scanned the sh.o.r.e, and soon detected several wreaths of smoke curling up into the air. How many men were there he could not tell, as the crowding trees hid them from view. He wondered if the pow-wow had already begun, or were the men waiting for others to arrive? He longed to go down to the sh.o.r.e, creep up close, and spy upon the rebels. This, however, he knew would be foolish, as it would be impossible in broad daylight to approach near enough to learn anything of importance. No, he must wait until night.

Pete was much pleased when Dane returned and told of the discovery he had made.

"Good, good," he said. "Plenty canoe come bimeby."

"But perhaps they are all there now," Dane suggested.

"No, more come bimeby. See 'm soon."

And in this the Indian was right, for as the day wore away, and darkness once more began to steal over the land, the canoes began to arrive. There were a dozen in all, and each contained a number of men, some of whom were Indians. They all came down river, entered the narrow channel, and sped up the Wedneebak.

As the last canoe disappeared around a bend, Dane and Pete slipped away from their place of watching. They moved rapidly through the forest, and hardly a sound did they make as they advanced. Their ears and eyes were keenly alert, for they were well aware that the critical time had now arrived, and that much depended upon their caution.

The darkness had now deepened, and no trail guided their steps. But to them this mattered little. The forest was their home, and their course was as unerring as birds in their flight or beasts in search of prey.

A life-long training to one, and years to the other had developed the sense of instinct which always served when sight and hearing were of little or no avail.

And this stood them in good stead now, for when others would have detected nothing, they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks, dropped upon their hands and knees, and crept cautiously forward. Never did panthers move more warily than did those two human sleuth-hounds approach the unsuspecting men gathered from various places for the important council. From creeping they dropped into crawling, with their bodies close to the ground. In this manner they ere long came near the water, and not far from where the rebels were a.s.sembled.

Here, concealed by night and a thick clump of small fir bushes, they were able to watch all that was taking place, and to hear every word uttered.

Ever since Pete had brought him word of this council a great fear had been tugging at Dane's heart. He said nothing, however, about it to his companion, but as he rapidly and anxiously scanned the faces of the men gathered about the big main fire, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The one he feared might be present was not there. A weight was now lifted from his mind, so he felt in a better mood to spy upon the band before him.

He knew them all, Indians, English-speaking renegades from New England, and half-breeds. It was a motley gathering, and as he listened to the drifting conversation before the actual pow-wow began, he realised how bitter was the hatred to the English that rankled strong in every breast. The half-breeds had an old score to settle, and this was another desperate attempt on their part to arouse the dissatisfied natives against the Loyalists.

For a time it was an orderly gathering, and as the men ate of the abundance of food which had been provided, they talked in a quiet manner. But when the rum, of which there seemed to be no end, was pa.s.sed around all became more talkative. They harangued, cursed, and wrangled with one another until it appeared to the concealed watchers that the whole affair would end in a fizzle. But Flazeet, the half-breed leader, seemed to be perfectly satisfied, and at times a grim smile overspread his dark brutal face.

Leaping at length to his feet, he ordered his companions to be silent.

When he spoke in such a peremptory tone, they knew that it was well for them to obey, so after a little grumbling they settled down to listen to what he had to say.

Flazeet understood the Indian language, and was also well acquainted with the natives, so it was to them he now addressed his words. He told them first of all of the greatness of their race, and that the Great Spirit had given to their forefathers the land on which they lived. It was theirs, and no one had any right to take it from them.

But strangers were coming in, and King George was going to take their hunting-grounds away and give them to others. And who were these newcomers? They were people who had been driven out of their own country for their badness. They had fought against the great white chief, George Washington, who had been so good to the Indians, and had sent them many presents during the war. These strangers had been defeated, and thousands of them had already arrived in ships, and were coming up the river to take possession of the hunting-grounds. The Indians would be driven out. They would die, because the newcomers would kill all the moose, deer, and caribou, cut down the trees, and destroy the fish on the various streams. These were some of the things they would do, and the Indians would have no hunting-grounds, so they, their wives and their children would starve. Would the Indians allow this? Would they let these bad men come in and take their lands? No, they must fight, drive these people out, and keep the country which was theirs by right. And now was the time to fight, before too many strangers arrived.