UNDER WOLFE'S FLAG (continued 2)

This desperate chief was now chained to one of the guns on board the Sapphire, and for two days he was the object of cruelty and ill-treatment, chiefly from those who had brought him aboard. He was kept without food or water. He was taunted with the fact that a heavy price was set upon his head, and that he would soon be tortured or roasted alive.

Though hungry and parched with thirst, he was too proud to ask his captors for a drink of water. He remained sullen and obdurate, and refused to speak. Once a tormentor offered him a pannikin of salt water to drink, and then, because he refused it, threw it over him. But he remained as immovable as a statue. Once a marlin-spike was hurled at him. A white man would have dodged to avoid such an unwelcome missile, but this mighty chief was too proud. He never winced or moved a muscle, though the spike went perilously near his face.

Jack and Jamie both remonstrated, but were told to mind their own business, and as the Iroquois had been allied with the English, and spoke a smattering of their tongue, they were forbidden to converse with or even to approach him. To speak to him was what they both very much longed to do, for he was the first real Indian they had seen, and very different from the wretched specimens who hung about the settlements of the white men. They admired the haughty pride and fearlessness of this child of the forest.

"He must be parched with thirst," said Jamie, on the afternoon of the second day. "I will give him a drink of water, whatever the Frenchies say."

And he immediately took a pannikin of fresh water and held it to the chief's mouth, for his hands were bound. Before the water could touch his lips the pannikin was dashed to the ground, and the boys were ordered away, but the look of gratitude that came into the chief's eyes showed that he had understood that a kindness was intended.

Soon after this the chief was removed to a cabin for greater security, but next morning, when the officer in charge of him unlocked the door, the prisoner was gone and there was no trace of him. He had in some mysterious way slipped his bonds during the night, dropped through the open porthole into the river, and made his way to the shore without being observed.

Great was the consternation on board when it was found that White Eagle, the terror of the settlements, had escaped, but though a search was made for him in every part of the ship, it was only too evident that he had obtained his freedom, and was at liberty to harass his enemies once more.

They had now reached the Ile d'Orleans, a huge island that lay in mid-stream, just below the great Falls of the Montmorency. Now piles of lofty cliffs fringed the northern bank of the river, rising sheer out of the water at high tide. Then they reached the mouth of the St. Charles River, while before them, crowning a lofty summit, with its churches and houses, ramparts and bastions, stood the city of Quebec.

The Sapphire fired a salute, which was replied to by one of the forts, and the next moment she anchored beneath the frowning guns of the citadel--the Gibraltar of North America.

CHAPTER VII

OLD QUEBEC

The old town of Quebec in 1757 was a picturesque and romantic spot. Clusters of pretty white Canadian cottages, many of them surrounded by gardens and orchards, filled with apples, pears and vines, transplanted from Old France, lined the margins of the St. Charles River, and even the lower town, about the banks of the St. Lawrence. Half-a-hundred churches and convents already raised their spires heavenward. The upper town contained the governor's house, and many palatial edifices of timber and stone, while high over all, the frowning citadel crowned the lofty eminence, looking down upon town and river.

For over two hundred years the children of the French king had dwelt here, and no white men had as yet seriously disputed their possession of this mighty fortress, which was the key to half a continent; but the sands were running low. In her late wars with the sea-dogs of Britain, France had lost the command of the seas; her navies, her maritime commerce had been well-nigh destroyed, and the sea-girt island, where dwelt the sons of the Saxon and the Viking, had become the "Mistress of the Seas."

The penalty to be paid by France for this was shortly to be the cession of all her North American colonies to the victors, for she that had failed to command the narrow seas at home, could not hope to retain her Empire abroad. Thus has it ever been with the citadel of Mansoul; the heart of the Empire. Make these impregnable, and all is well. Weaken these, through slothfulness, carelessness or ease, and the borders of the Empire, like dead branches, are soon lopped away.

As our heroes were compelled to remain in Quebec for some nine months or more before they had an opportunity to leave, they did not grumble, but made the most of their time. For the first three months they were more or less the guests of Captain Alexandre, but after the Sapphire put to sea again with a convoy, they entered the service of a Major Ridout, a retired army officer, who had become a fur-trader, which at that time was a very lucrative business, and entailed an adventurous career.

Major Ridout saw that they were two likely youths, who would be of great service, out in the wilds, collecting furs from the Indians. These distant tribes dwelt hundreds of leagues in the forests, far away on the shores of the great lakes, which at this time were practically unknown, save by a few bold and reckless adventurers, who frequently paid dearly for their temerity.

He promised them that when the spring unlocked the rivers and lakes, they should accompany him on his travels into the unknown forests and wilds of the interior, and as this was the only method that had as yet offered them a chance of earning a living or making a fortune, they gladly accepted it. They were also anxious to leave Quebec, as measures were already being concerted to prepare for a siege; for ugly rumours had come to hand that Admiral Boscawen in command of a British squadron had annihilated a French fleet, and captured a convoy destined for Quebec.

Every preparation, therefore, was made by General Montcalm and his assistants, lest they should be besieged by ces Anglais perfides. The lads were, therefore, doubly anxious to leave the city, lest they should be treated as prisoners of war, for refusing to take up arms against their countrymen.

During their stay here they had much leisure, and made many excursions about Quebec. Sometimes they paddled down stream in one of the major's canoes and visited the Ile of Orleans, or the Falls of Montmorency, or up the rapid stream of the River Charles, to visit some of the friendly Indians. One day they were returning down-stream from a visit to Cape Rouge, some leagues above the city, on the St. Lawrence, where they had been camping some three days, fishing for salmon and hunting the red deer, when suddenly, and without the slightest warning, a fearful yell burst from a point of the southern bank, scarce a hundred yards away.

"Indians!" exclaimed Jack, striking his paddle into the water with all his might.

"Iroquois!" said Jamie coolly.

A shower of bullets and a flight of arrows flicked up the water about the canoe.

"Pull for your life, Jamie! They've been lying in wait for us. Lucky we didn't land there as we had intended."

"Lucky indeed! They would have had our scalps by now, and they may have them yet. Look there! One, two, three canoes! coming as fast as they can. It's all over unless we can beat them."

They were in a tight corner. They had been warned that the Iroquois were watching the river above Quebec, but they had never dreamt that they were so near.

The Indians were gaining upon them, although they were flying rapidly downstream. They had ceased to yell now, for the city was only two leagues away, and they were straining every nerve to overtake the lads before they could reach safety. An occasional bullet struck the canoe, but they did not look around, for they could hear the splash of the Iroquois' paddles, and the sound seemed to come nearer and nearer.

"I can do no more, Jack! My arm's still painful from the wound," and Jamie drew in his paddle.

"Hold on, Jamie! Don't give in. In another five minutes we shall be out of danger. There's the little cove where we've landed many a time, just there on the northern bank. If we can only reach that spot, we can quickly climb up to the heights, and the Indians will not dare to follow us there. Hold on for another few minutes!"

This was the only chance that offered an escape from the foe, and Jamie, despite his wound, which at times of great exertion still pained him, put in his paddle again. They were running rapidly down under the precipitous northern bank now, and with a skilful twist of his paddle Jack sent the nose of the canoe quickly ashore, right up on the narrow strand, in the cove, at the foot of the cliffs.

The Indians had perceived their intentions, and with a loud yell had changed their course to prevent them and cut them off. The first canoe was not a dozen yards away, and in another three seconds would have been beached alongside theirs, when Jack seized his rifle and, without taking any precise arm, fired point-blank into the canoe. It was loaded with heavy buck-shot, and the Iroquois at the steering paddle received half the contents of it.

Nothing could have been better done had the aim been more skilfully taken. The paddle dropped helplessly from his hand, and the rapid current carried the canoe past the landing-point. A savage yell burst from every Indian within sight. The lads responded with a shout of defiance, and then, abandoning canoe, outfit, rifles and everything they possessed, they leapt from the boat and swiftly climbed the steep and narrow ascent, pulling themselves up by the roots and branches of trees that grew on this precipitous bank.

This clever and successful shot had gained them but a few seconds of time, but they reached the summit unharmed, and after a brief pursuit, the Indians, who were getting too near the settlements, retired and gave up the fruitless chase, and from the Heights of Abraham, as they looked down upon the river, they had the satisfaction of seeing their late enemies pursued in turn by a party of Algonquins, the active allies of the French.

Spring came at last, unlocking the rivers and the lakes, and the half-wild fur-traders, with their Indian guides, were already preparing to ascend the St. Lawrence, up past Mont Royale, and the Thousand Islands, across the great inland sea called Ontario, to the rude fort of Niagara.

Even here the fatiguing journey would not end, for after a brief respite, they must shoulder their packages, and carry their long birch-bark canoes over the rough portage that led past the mighty, thundering cataract of Niagara, near by the hunting-grounds of the fierce and warlike Senecas. Then they must place their canoes again on the upper reaches of the swift Niagara River, and from thence enter Lake Erie, pass the outposts of Presqu' Isle, Miami and Fort Detroit, to the rivers, the lakes and the forts beyond, where in the surrounding forests the red man in all his primeval simplicity hunted, fished, lived and died. Even to the far-off lands of the Kickapoos, the Ojibways and the Winnebagos these brave fur-traders often ventured, drawn partly by a desire for gain, and partly, no doubt, by the added spice of danger and adventure.

Such, then, was the adventure to which our heroes were committed, as soon as the rivers were clear of the dangerous ice-floes, and the Algonquin chief Wabeno arrived with a dozen of his braves to accompany them as guides and scouts. Here was a prospect of adventure which thrilled the lads, and they anxiously awaited the arrival of the chief, which was to be on the first day of the new moon. They were to have a share in the enterprise, as a reward of their services.

"Wake up, Jack! Here comes the chief, in all his warpaint, with moccasins and deer-skin hunting-shirt, and with a girdle of scalps hanging from his belt," cried Jamie one morning, rushing into the apartment that served them both for sleeping purposes.

"Hurrah!" cried his friend. "I'm coming. Are the canoes ready?"

"Yes, they're all loaded up and waiting in the river, by the lower town."

"Glad we're leaving Quebec at last, aren't you? By all the preparations that the Governor's pushing forward, there's going to be a dreadful fight here some day, and the side that wins will have Canada for a prize."

"So you want to be out of the fighting, do you, old boy? That isn't a bit like you."

"Ah, don't misunderstand me, old fellow. I mean that I don't want to be cooped up in here when the fighting takes place, because our fellows will be outside. I wouldn't mind a hand in the storming, fighting under the British flag, for although the French have been pretty good to us--at least, some of them--they didn't treat the rest of the Duncan's crew too well, when they shipped them all back to England in that leaky old tub."

They had now reached the lower part of the town, and were approaching the river by one of the narrow steep streets of which Quebec has so many, when Jamie, casting up a look at the frowning, embattled citadel, said--

"That place will want some storming! A handful of brave men, well supplied with ammunition and provisions, might sit tight up there for years, and defy the armies of the world."

"You're right, Jamie, and yet, I confess, I'd like to see another flag up there, wouldn't you?"

Turning to his companion, Jamie looked him full in the face, and replied--

"I would, Jack! And who knows? We may help to plant it there, some day. And, then, what would they think of us in Burnside?"

"Ah, they'd forget that they once put us in the lock-up for taking a few trout, and they'd all turn out to welcome us home; or if we died they'd put a tablet to our memory in the old church. Ha! ha!" laughed Jack.

At this point their conversation, which had been partly serious and partly jocular, was interrupted by a sound somewhat unusual at this early hour, for it was only about five o'clock in the morning, and the sun had not long been risen. Sounds of laughter and much shouting greeted them, and the next moment they turned a corner and came upon the voyageurs, as these rough, half-wild fur-traders are called. A dozen or so of rough but sturdy Canadians were bidding good-bye to their wives and sweethearts, though there seemed to be more excitement and laughter than tears and sadness of farewell. These men, hard as nails, used to the terrors of the wilderness, and the hardships of the forests, were dressed nearly like their Indian allies, who stood by--Wabeno and his braves.

They wore fur caps, deer-skin hunting-shirts, moccasins and leggings, worked by the Indian squaws. They were all armed with rifles and long hunting-knives, and one or two of them, who were probably half-castes, carried tomahawks as well. Moored to the bank close beside them were three very long canoes, loaded with all the requirements for a six months' trading outfit, and ready to start.

"Ah, mes camarades! Voici ils vient," cried Major Ridout, the leader of the expedition, and then in loud, ringing tones, he shouted, "Aux bateaux!"--"To the boats!"

In a moment the canoes were filled, Wabeno and three of his men entering the first, and the others distributing themselves as arranged. There were twenty-three all told, and the youths along with the leader, who was a genial man, of great experience, born of a Canadian father and a Scotch mother, entered the last boat, which was rather larger than the other two, and had several buffalo robes spread in the stern sheets.

The last good-bye was said, and to the stirring notes of a Canadian boat song, the rowers paddled away, and soon left their friends and their homes behind. Alas! how few of them were ever to see those homes or those friends again.

They were a merry party at present, however, and the Indians took turns with the hardy voyageurs, as they paddled quickly against the rapid stream. The canoes were very light, being made of birch bark, for they had to be carried over rough and sometimes long portages. Yet they were very strong and roomy, and at present were loaded so deeply that the water was only a few inches below the gunwales.

After two hours' hard work, pulling against the stream, the leader gave a quick, sharp command--

"À terre! À terre!"

This order to land for breakfast was obeyed with alacrity. Camp-fires were lit. The "billies" were soon boiling, and a hearty meal of pemmican and bread was washed down with a drink of water from the river. After an hour's rest, they continued their journey.

That night they camped on the northern bank, in a little clearing of the forest, about thirty miles above Quebec. They had hardly yet approached the danger zone, though small parties of the Iroquois did sometimes penetrate thus far. A watch was set, however, and campfires were permitted, and after supper the men chatted and laughed and smoked. Then a song was called for--a song with a chorus. And while the flames from the burning logs lit up the surrounding pines, one after another trolled forth a song, and the voyageurs took up the chorus, till the woods resounded with their voices, and the creatures of the forest must have wondered what strange beings these were that disturbed their haunts.

The Indians looked on at all this merriment with stoic countenances, as though they disapproved of such light-heartedness, but at last one of the men cried out--

"Wabeno! Give us a war-dance!"

Instantly the expression of every Indian changed. Wabeno readily acceded to the request. A post was driven into the ground, and a circle formed around it. A few minutes sufficed to arrange their fluttering feathers and scalp-locks, and to paint their faces with red ochre and white lead. Then, suddenly, Wabeno, their chief, with a loud, blood-curdling yell, leapt into the circle, brandishing his tomahawk, and began reciting, in a fierce tone, all the deeds of prowess accomplished by himself and his ancestors.

A second warrior imitated his example, and then another, until at length the war-dance began in real earnest, and the whole pack of Indians were yelling and whooping, like so many demoniacs, hacking and tearing at the wooden post as though they were scalping an enemy. When they had thus worked themselves up into a frenzy, a final whoop from the chief ended the wild frolic, and instantly every warrior assumed a mask of boredom and indifference. A few minutes more, and all except the watch were fast asleep, wrapped in blankets or buffalo robes.

Thus passed the days and nights, until after they had passed the small fort of Mont Royale. Then the merriment ceased, for they were in an enemy's country. The watch was doubled every evening, and fires were left unlit, or extinguished as soon as possible. Once or twice, suspecting the near presence of an enemy, they slept in the canoes.

When they had passed the rapids of La Chine and Long Sault, several Indian scouts were thrown out in advance, along either bank, in order to prevent a sudden attack from an ambushed foe. All went well for some days, although the subdued manner of the voyageurs, and the keen alertness of the redskins, created an uneasy feeling in the minds of the youths. Towards sunset one afternoon Jack, who had been examining the river bank some distance ahead of the first canoe, suddenly exclaimed--

"Look! Wabeno is signalling! What has he seen?"

CHAPTER VIII

THE NIGHT-WATCH

Quickly the canoes were drawn to the bank and hidden amongst the overhanging bushes. A moment later a rustling was heard amongst the branches, and Wabeno stood before them.

"What has my red brother seen?" asked the major.

"Wabeno has seen the trail of a serpent!" replied the chief.

"Had the serpent moccasins?"

"Yes! The moccasins of the Iroquois."

"Humph! How many?"

The Algonquin held up seven fingers, to indicate how many footprints he had seen.

"'Tis only a small scalping party, then, which has passed this way. We'd better camp here for the night."

Wabeno insisted, however, that there was probably a larger party of Iroquois in the neighbourhood, and was for resting only until sunset, and then travelling rapidly through the night in order to reach the lakes as soon as possible. He seemed to think, also, that for several days past they had been watched by the scouts of the enemy.

As the chief spoke he looked keenly at the forest on the other side of the stream, as though he would like to read some fatal secret which that dense, virgin growth held inviolate; then, without further words, he turned and disappeared into the forest, as though to join his scouts.

"His words seem rather ominous, Jamie," said Jack, when he had gone, and they were busying themselves making fast the canoes and unloading a few things.

"Yes, I'm sorry that the major paid so little attention to his words. He seems to think that they are only a small band of marauding Indians who have recently crossed the river, and that if they do attack us we shall be more than a match for them. Well, let's hope he's right."

"There's something wrong, and I like not the redskin's uneasiness, old fellow. He scents danger, though he won't press his opinions upon the leader. He believes it's more than a scalping party, but he evidently thinks he's a match for Iroquois cunning."

"Did you notice the way he looked across the river? I wonder if that's the quarter he suspects? But come, we must lend the men a hand, for 'twill be dark in a few minutes," said Jamie.

Major Ridout took every precaution, however, against a surprise attack. All the Indians except two were sent into the forest to keep a strict watch. A few trees were felled and a rude abattis constructed, which instilled a certain amount of security into each mind.

Then darkness fell, and one by one the men stretched themselves on the ground and slept, with their rifles beside them. The two comrades, however, still talked in whispers as they lay rolled in their blankets.

"Just look at the men, Jack! How quiet they all are to-night? No noise, no singing or dancing this time. 'Tis my belief that we're in a tight corner, and if the Iroquois manage to get in past the scouts, there won't be a scalp left on any of us at daybreak."

"Never mind, we can only die once. The scouts are sure to give us warning, and then we'll sell our lives dearly. We've been in many a scrape before, old fellow, and we've always pulled through. There seems to be a Providence over us."

"Why, yes, it seems so. Do you remember the fight with the French cruiser?"

"Shall I ever forget it? I thought every moment would be my last when the broadsides opened upon us."

"Hush! What was that?"

The hoot of an owl was distinctly heard twice, and a moment afterwards it was answered by the call of the night-raven. The first call seemed to come from the depth of the forest on the other side of the river.

Scarcely had the last sound died away when the two Indians who remained in the camp, though apparently fast asleep, sprang to their feet, seized their rifles and disappeared into the thicket. Several of the men half raised themselves, looked around, and then lay down once more.

For a moment the boys listened in silence, their faces turned first to the deep gloom of the forest shades, half expecting to hear from thence the deadly whoop of the fierce Iroquois, and to see the rush of savage warriors upon the sleeping camp, then they looked suspiciously across the stream that flowed at their feet.

Overhead the stars shone brightly, and the placid stream reflected their fiery points on its broad bosom. Now and again its mirrored surface was broken by the splash of the salmon and the large river-trout.

"'Twas only a bird after all, Jack. Let us go to sleep. See, the men are sleeping peacefully."

"If 'twas only a bird, then why did the Indians leave to join the scouts?"

"I can't say. Perhaps 'twas only a private call for extra scouts. You know the call to arms is the howl of the coyote, repeated twice. Besides, 'tisn't likely that the enemy will get through the scouts without being seen. An Indian is all eyes, even in the dark."

The boys laid down again, but though Jamie was soon asleep Jack remained awake, gazing up at those bright twinkling points, and listening acutely for any sound that might come. Once or twice he raised himself and looked around.

A ripple in mid-stream caught his attention. While in the starlight he gazed upon it, it seemed to come nearer. Then another ripple, and another, that spread themselves out wider and wider, and in the middle of the disturbed area there appeared a tiny speck, as though a swimmer were breasting the stream. But even as he watched it, it disappeared and was lost in the darkness.

Five minutes--ten minutes passed, but the speck, whatever it was, did not reappear. What could it be? It would be foolish to alarm the camp prematurely, so he would just creep down to the water's edge and make sure. He threw off his blanket and crawled along through the reeds and willows. He had nearly reached the water when a rustling amongst the reeds caused his heart to cease beating for an instant. What could it be?

Two glaring eyeballs, that glowed like fire, were fixed upon his, not six feet away. Jack instinctively felt for his pistol, when, horror of horrors, he had left it beside the embers of the fire. He drew his hunting-knife from its sheath, keeping his eyes fixed the while upon those glaring eye-balls; when the wild creature, evidently a wolf, attracted to the river by thirst, suddenly uttered a snarl, turned tail and made off.

"Thank God!" he gasped. "Better a wolf than an Indian." For though naturally a brave lad this sudden apparition had given him a shock that made the perspiration stand out like beads on his forehead, but he quickly recovered himself and crept down to the edge of the stream.

He could just make out the dark, indistinct outline of the forest on the opposite bank, but no ripples or dark objects were visible. Then he looked down-stream, but nothing could he see.

"I must have been deceived. What a good thing I didn't alarm the camp! How they would have laughed at me," he muttered.

Just then, however, he cast his eyes upstream. As he did so, he started again. A long, dark shadow, like a log or a canoe, half-way across, seemed to be drifting towards the northern shore on which they were camped. It was not more than two hundred yards away. It seemed to crawl along, then close behind it he saw a similar object, and still another.

What were the scouts doing? Had they been betrayed? What could they be, but canoes--Indians? Then the enemy must be crossing over, and he raised his voice for one mighty shout of--

"Iroquois."

But even as he uttered that startling cry the fierce howl of the coyote, repeated twice, the signal to alarm the camp, came from the woods, and the crack of a rifle awoke a hundred echoes and roused the men to a sense of their danger.

Even as for an instant he lingered beside the river-bank a blood-curdling yell, the war-whoop of the Iroquois, rang across the stream and echoed and re-echoed through the forest. A dozen rifles spattered out their leaden hail, for the conflict had begun at last.

Jack rushed back into the camp and found Major Ridout and the men already in position behind the logs, prepared to receive the enemy as soon as they should burst through that thin line of Algonquin scouts.

"Hullo, Jack!" cried Jamie. "Where have you been? I feared that you were a prisoner. Have you been scouting too?"

"Why, yes! That is, I couldn't sleep, and I thought I saw a curious object in mid-stream and went down to see what it was."

"And what did you find?"

"Well, I could no longer see it when I got there, but just as I was coming away I happened to look up-stream, and I saw three canoes crossing over from the southern bank.

"I wonder why the chief did not discover them before. He seems to have been watching the forest instead of the river! Hullo! What's this?"

The sounds of a desperate struggle, a hand-to-hand fight in the bushes a few yards away, attracted their attention. It was too dark, however, to see anything as yet, although the dawn would be upon them shortly.

"Stand ready, lads!" cried their leader, and every man levelled his rifle in the direction whence the sounds came.

The next moment a wounded Algonquin rushed into the camp, leaping over the abattis, and then rolled over on the ground dead. He was fearfully gashed, and it was evident that an attempt had even been made to scalp him. How he had escaped was a marvel. The yells and war-whoops had ceased now, and for a brief space even the rifles had ceased to speak, and there was a dead silence. The men waited impatiently behind that rude barricade, reserving their fire.

Suddenly a sharp, short, piercing scream, broken short, fell upon their ears, as though a mortal wound had been given and received.

"Ah, Wabeno! That is the end of Wabeno!" exclaimed one of the men.

It was indeed Wabeno who uttered that scream, and it was both his war-cry and his death-cry, for at that instant he had met in single combat the Iroquois chief, and the tomahawk of the greatest warrior within a hundred leagues of the lakes, had sunk into his brain and stretched him lifeless.

"Now the Algonquins will scatter like the leaves of the forest, and we must fight it out alone, lads. Oh! that the dawn would come!" exclaimed the major, casting a brief look towards the east.

Even as he spoke the first flush of the sunrise was lighting up the edge of the forest and the river, but the dawn only revealed to them the utter hopelessness of their position. The enemy were in great numbers, and had almost completely surrounded them, for though the river was at their rear it was being eagerly watched from the opposite bank.

Still, for some reason, the enemy did not attempt to rush the camp as yet.

"I wonder why they're hanging back, Jamie," said his comrade, who lay behind the same log with his rifle at the "ready."

"Perhaps they've had enough scalps already, and are thinking of going back to their wigwams."

"Ah," replied one of the voyageurs, who was a regular frontiersman, "that might be true of any other tribe but the Iroquois; they'll not be satisfied until their girdles are full of reeking scalps. We must teach them a lesson they'll not forget. Here goes," and raising his rifle as he spoke he fired quickly at a dark figure that was approaching the camp, leaping quickly from tree to tree.

A yell of pain escaped the Indian as he rolled over in an agony, and paid with his life for his temerity. A wild cry of vengeance came from the dark aisles of the forest, and a dozen Iroquois leapt forward to snatch away the dead body, lest it should fall into the hands of the palefaces.

This was the opportunity that had long been waited for, and the order came sharp and short--

"Fire!"

A dozen flashes of fire burst forth from behind the barricade, and a hail of bullets was poured out upon the Indians, and a confused heap of dead and wounded lay beside their fallen comrade, but ere the smoke had cleared away the piercing scream of an eagle rent the air. It was the signal for a general attack given by the Iroquois chief, and before the palefaces had time to reload their pieces, a hundred braves leapt from the cover of the trees, where they had been hidden on three sides of the camp.

The forest rang with their wild whoops, as, brandishing their hatchets and tomahawks, they leapt over the tree trunks and fell upon the voyageurs. A desperate hand-to-hand fight ensued. Frightful blows were given and received. Paleface and redskin fought like demons. Some of the former, seeing the hopelessness of prolonging the fight against such numbers of their fierce and crafty foe, rushed to the river bank, and launching one of the canoes pushed off and threw themselves in, followed by a storm of bullets and arrows.

From that moment the fight was lost, and even those who thus deserted their comrades gained nothing but dishonour and death, for they were quickly overtaken, and killed and scalped.

The rest of the small band still fought on bravely against desperate odds, for they were outnumbered by more than ten to one. Major Ridout seemed to have the strength of ten, for single-handed he encountered four Indians at once, and had stretched two of them on the ground, and wounded a third, when a fierce painted warrior, with a plume of eagle's feathers upon his head, uttered a wild cry and buried his knife in the brave man's heart.

Where were the lads all this time? As soon as the general attack was made, they placed their backs against a pine-tree that stood nearly in the middle of the clearing, and defended themselves against all-comers. They were the last survivors of that little band, and they still fought desperately with their clubbed muskets, which they wielded with a vigour and frenzy that had already sent half-a-dozen Iroquois to the ground.

The end was not far off, however. They had both received several nasty wounds, and Jack was both stunned and bleeding.

"Good-bye, Jamie!" he said, as he sank to the ground.

Jamie felt that he, too, must soon follow him, but when Jack fell he stepped across his body and swung his clubbed musket about so fiercely that the enemy fell back for a minute. An Indian hurled a hatchet, which just missed his head and buried its keen, trembling blade in the tree behind him.

He looked down at Jack's pale, death-like face. He called him by name, but no answer came, and he feared that his comrade was dead. The blood was flowing freely from his own wounds, and he felt himself getting weaker and weaker.

He was reeling now from sheer weakness and loss of blood. He could hardly hold his musket. This, then, was to be the end of it all. Deserted by the French voyageurs, to be killed and scalped by the cruel Iroquois.

"Never mind! We will die together," he mumbled to himself, "fighting to the last."

The Indians were returning now from the capture of the canoe. He could see a dozen or more gesticulating forms, dancing in frenzy before him. He could do no more. He was falling--falling--such a long way it seemed to the ground. Then he felt the sharp steel of an Indian knife cutting into his flesh, as it was hurled at him from a distance.

He felt some one clutch his scalp-lock, but he was unable to resist. He had become unconscious and oblivious of all these things. He seemed to be in another land where, instead of the dark forest with its interminable tangle and endless dangers, he roamed with Jamie beside a broken stream, where the red-spotted trout leapt in a sunlit burn, the music of whose waters charmed and soothed his tired and weary spirit.

"Stay! He is the paleface brother of the White Eagle," said a voice that broke his sub-conscious reverie; and at these words Jack opened his eyes for an instant and looked into the face of a mighty warrior whose plumed eagle crest and haughty features seemed strangely familiar.

CHAPTER IX

THE WHITE EAGLE OF THE IROQUOIS

The Indian who had raised his scalping-knife drew back, and a plumed and painted chieftain stepped forward. It was none other than the renowned "White Eagle"--the greatest chief amongst the Six Nations. The same daring and unconquered spirit who had made his escape from the frigate, as she lay anchored in the river below Quebec.

"Stay! Let me see the young palefaces, who do not run like the hares," he commanded.

As he bent over the prostrate youths, he was unable to restrain a slight, involuntary start. A sudden gleam of remembrance flashed across his countenance, and chased away for an instant the ferocity of the savage. He recognised in them the young prisoners who, aboard the Sapphire, had dared to offer him a drink of water at the risk of losing their own promised liberty.

Then, in a loud voice which all could hear, he uttered those words, which caused Jack to open his eyes for an instant--

"Stay! He is the paleface brother of the White Eagle."

The braves quickly gathered around him, for they were all astounded at these words; but he continued--

"These are not the children of the Canadas. They are the friends of the red man, and the children of the Yengeese. They come from the land of the sun-rising. They were prisoners with White Eagle, in the big canoe with wings, in the river of Canada, and when the children of the French king treated the Eagle as the squaw of a Delaware, and even offered him the bitter salt water to drink, the hearts of these children of Miquon burned with pity for the red chief, and they offered him sweet water to quench his thirst, but even that was not permitted by these dogs of Canada."

"Ugh! The children of the French Father are snakes and cowards. They are singing-birds which speak a lie," cried one of the warriors.

"The Algonquins are crows, who fly to their rookeries when they hear the scream of the eagle," cried another.

"Listen!" continued the chief. "The French are women, like the Delawares, and should wear petticoats. They offered gold and fire-water for the scalp of an Iroquois chief, but the caged eagle despised their threats, and while his captors slept, his proud spirit burst the bars, and his strong wings bore him aloft, back to the hunting-grounds of his fathers."

Exclamations of pride and assent greeted these words, for the prowess and courage of their leader were recognised by all of them.

"When the White Eagle of his tribe gained his freedom once more, his heart went back to the Yengeese prisoners who had dared to show him a kindness, and he longed to see their faces again, for an Iroquois never forgets a kindness, though he quickly repays an insult, and now the Manitou has sent hither my paleface friends. They are brave, for they do not run even from my warriors. The white blood shall be washed from their veins, and when their wounds are healed they shall be adopted into my tribe, for the Great Spirit has said, that between the children of Miquon and the red man there shall be peace, and the hatchet shall be buried so deeply that none shall ever find it again."

These remarkable words, uttered by the red chief, contained both wisdom and prophecy, though expressed in that flowery and boastful language which has always been a peculiarity of the North American savage.

Quickly, then, medicinal herbs were brought from far and near to heal the boys' wounds, and all the knowledge and skill of the tribe were used to restore them to life and health. Fortunately their wounds were not serious, and soon they were able to sit up and to walk, and then they learnt how fortunate they had been. They thanked God in that moment for all His preserving care, and especially that they were led to do that simple act of kindness to the great chief aboard the frigate.

In accordance with a peculiar Indian custom, water was then brought from the river, and the usual rites of adoption were performed. When the white blood had been washed away from their veins, the chief declared them to be his brothers and members of his tribe.

They were provided with deer-skin shirts and leggings, embroidered with quills and fine bead work. Indian moccasins were placed upon their feet, and belts of wampum around their waists, while the feathers of a newly-killed hawk served as crests or head-gear. Except that their faces were a little paler than those of their companions, they might easily have been taken for young Indian braves, just entering upon their first war-path.

Then it only remained to find Indian names for them, so they called Jamie "Red Feather," for when they found him his head and face were covered with blood, as he lay upon the ground, and so they dyed the hawk-feathers that served as his crest a deep crimson. And Jack they called the "Black Hawk," for they said, though his face was pale, his spirit was as fierce, and his eyes as keen, as the bird of prey whose plumes he bore. So they left his feathers black.

"So now we're both Iroquois braves, Black Hawk!" said Jamie, as soon as they were left together.

"Yes, and the brothers of White Eagle, too!" laughed his companion.

"Well, I suppose it's a great honour they've conferred upon us, so we must not grumble."

"The greatest honour that an Indian can confer. And for a time I shouldn't mind it, at any rate, until we can make our escape to the settlements of Pennsylvania or Virginia, if it were not for those horrible, reeking trophies that our comrades carry at their girdles."

"Ah! the scalps, you mean----"

"Yes. Do you know that I've counted no less than fifteen fresh scalps amongst them, every one of which was this morning rooted where God had placed it."

"Horrible! What can we do?"

"Nothing!"

"Are we the only survivors?"

"Some of the Algonquins escaped, I think, and a few of the Frenchmen, who made for the forest, but none of those who entered the canoe, for there she is. She was captured and brought back again."

"And Major Ridout?" asked Jamie. "What has become of him? Is he dead, too?"

"I fear so, but all the bodies have been dragged into the forest and hidden. I suppose the chief did that to save us a little pain, for he probably knows that we are unaccustomed to such a sight."

"I'm glad to hear that, for it shows that he possesses a sense of decency and good feeling, although he's such a mighty redskin chief."

"And 'tis certain that he remembers a kindness, too, however small," said Jack. "And it's my opinion that he's not at all a bad fellow, but as generous as he is brave. He remembered us at once, and we owe him our lives, and I intend to thank him when I get the chance."

"We owe our lives also to the fact that we stood our ground, when the others ran away, for if we had taken either to the canoes or the forest the chief would probably not have come our way, and we should have been scalped by his braves."

"So once more the path of duty has been the path of safety, as old Dr. Birch was so fond of saying."

"The only pleasant feature, apart from our marvellous escape, that I can see, is that the Iroquois as a part of the Six Nations are allied with the English against the French in this war, and they speak of the English king as their Great Father across the water."

During this time the Indians, who had not followed the fugitives into the forest, had been overhauling the three big canoes which belonged to the fur-traders, and examining their contents.

They had made a great capture, for the canoes were deeply laden with provisions, arms, ammunition and trading goods. The first thing that White Eagle did was to pour out all the fire-water into the river, lest his men should drink it, for he knew what dire consequences would ensue to the whole band if that "devil in solution" were only permitted to pass their lips.

That night they camped on the same clearing where the battle had been fought, but next morning at sunrise they took the captured canoes along with their own, and paddled rapidly up-stream towards Lake Ontario. The youths were both invited into the chief's canoe, and as their wounds were still painful, they took no part in the paddling, but remained sitting in the bottom of the canoe, or lying upon the skins which had belonged to Major Ridout.

The chief and several of his men spoke a little broken English, and one spoke the Canadian patois, for he had been a prisoner amongst the Algonquin tribes for some time, so that they were able to converse a little during the day.

Towards evening they reached the "Thousand Islands," where the St. Lawrence broadens out into a lake studded with a multitude of islets, just before it leaves Lake Ontario. Here the hand of the great Landscape Painter seems to have made the "beauty spot" of the world, and our heroes were charmed and even roused to a pitch of enthusiasm, as they passed one green, verdant, or pine-wooded island after another, while the setting sun, flinging its last ruddy beams upon the trees and the water, completed the enchanting picture.

"'Tis well to be a red man when the Great Manitou gives His children such hunting and fishing grounds as these," said Jamie to the chief, for he had been deeply stirred by the beauty that surrounded him.

"The Great Spirit loves His red children," said the chief solemnly. "He made for them the fish in the stream, and the deer in the forest; but He has forgotten them for a while, for they have displeased Him, and the children of the sun-rising have chased them from their hunting-grounds."

Jamie made no reply, for he saw that the chief's heart was not a little sad, for they were approaching Fort Frontenac at the entrance of the lake, where the presence of the French behind their wooden palisades was a constant reminder to the Indians that even the graves and the hunting-grounds of their fathers were defiled by the presence of the paleface children of the Canadas.

That night they camped on one of the islands, but long before daybreak they departed and stole swiftly but silently past the fort, and entered the broad waters of Lake Ontario. There was just a chance that some of the survivors had reached the fort and alarmed the soldiers, but all was quiet as they paddled quickly by. Count Frontenac, who established the fort, was a clever soldier, but even to this day his name is remembered with hatred by the Iroquois for his severity and cruelty.

And now they were entering their own country, for the Iroquois claimed as their homeland all that great tract of country that lies south of Lake Ontario, from the Hudson River and Lake Champlain on the east, away to the ridges of the Blue Mountains behind Virginia and westward some little way beyond the Falls of Niagara, and the eastern shores of Lake Erie; but by right of conquest they claimed much more, for they had conquered all the surrounding tribes, from the river of Canada on the east, to the southern shores of Lake Michigan on the west, far away southwards to the Ohio Valley.

At the present time, however, the wigwams and lodges of the White Eagle were pitched on the banks of a small stream that flowed through the forest to the south of the Great Falls.

Though they still thought much of their late comrades, the youths had now become more cheerful, and their wounds had nearly healed, thanks to the kind attention of the Indians. They had even begun to admire these fierce Iroquois who had adopted them. They were not nearly so bad as they were described by the French. They were lords of nature, these children of the forest, and had desired nothing more than to be left alone in their happy hunting-grounds. It was the paleface who had been the intruder and the plunderer. At first the red men had welcomed the palefaces, and received them as brothers, but the baser types of the settlers, the outcasts and pariahs of the settlements, and especially the hated "Rum-carriers," had taken advantage of, and had traded upon, the childishness, the ignorance and the simplicity of the Indians, with the result that outrage, vengeance and border wars had been the result. The insults of Champlain were never forgotten by the Iroquois. On the other hand the compact made between Miquon (William Penn) and the Indians was never broken by the Delawares, till the white men broke it themselves.

Several times during their progress along the shores of the lake smoke had been perceived, rising above the tree-tops in the forest. The keen eyes of the chief, who was in the first canoe, never relaxed their vigilance for a moment, for though they were almost in their own country, yet at any hour they might be set upon by a marauding band of French Indians, who were out for scalps.

Each evening they would draw in to the bank, set a watch, by posting scouts some little way into the forest, then, lighting a fire, they would cook their evening meal. Oftentimes this would consist of a fine buck that had been killed during the day, as they coasted along by the edge of the forest-lined bank, or sometimes of the sturgeon and salmon taken from the lake.

The lads noticed that several times, when smoke had been observed, that the chief ordered the boats to make a wide detour, as though to avoid a possible enemy. At other times the boats would pass close in as though there were no danger. Jamie was determined to find out the reason of this, so the next time that he saw a faint column of blue smoke he remarked to the chief--

"Look, White Eagle! There's more smoke ahead!"

But the chief, who had seen it long before, merely remarked--

"Iroquois smoke!"

How he could tell the difference between one smoke and another the lads could never make out, for he seemed unable to explain it to them; but that he did know, and could often tell something of the people who fed the fire by the tell-tale column of smoke, they never doubted.

Once, as the White Eagle looked long and keenly at a very faint column of blue smoke, about half-a-mile inland, Jamie thought that for an instant he could trace a somewhat puzzled and anxious look clouding the face of the chief; but it passed as quickly as it came, and the faintest promise of a smile spread over his countenance, as though the smoke recalled pleasant memories.

"Is that Iroquois smoke, too, chief?" he asked.

"No Iroquois smoke this time," he replied

"Can it be an enemy, then?"

"No enemy."

"Then who can he be who has lit that fire?"

"Paleface!" ejaculated the chief.

CHAPTER X

A LONELY FRONTIERSMAN

"Paleface?" exclaimed the lads, standing up in the canoe, and straining their eyes as if to catch a glimpse of that mysterious stranger who was hidden in the depth of the forest.

"Aren't you afraid that we may be attacked?"

"Ugh!" replied the warrior, without moving a muscle of his dark face, or showing the slightest trace of alarm. "Him--great paleface hunter. Friend of the Iroquois. Smoke peace-pipe with the White Eagle."

As they paddled quickly past the spot Jamie turned again and again to look at that faint column of receding smoke, now growing fainter and fainter.

"Who can this paleface hunter be, so far away from his home and friends, dwelling alone in these dark forests? Perhaps he is an exile from his country!" murmured the lad to himself. Then a strange yearning came over him. He longed to go ashore, that he might join this lonely frontiersman, and share his hardships and his perils, but he hesitated to suggest it to the chief, whose face now bore such a stolid, mask-like look. And soon the long, swift strokes of the paddles bore them past the spot.

There must be something in nature--though perfectly inexplicable to us, who know so little of the unseen verities--that transmits through the ether that surrounds us, feelings of sympathy and love to kindred souls, just as in these later days of our civilisation the wireless message is flung from ship to ship and coast to coast. For the fact remains, that just at this moment the sturdy paleface hunter, as he stooped to place more pine-wood on his blazing fire, felt at his very heart a twinge of pain, so that for an instant his eyes were blurred, and he saw no longer the blazing fire, the dark forest, or the pile of beaver skins that his skilful hands had taken, for another vision rose before his face.

'Twas the vision of an old-world village, in a sweet little island that rose out of the main, far-off; and to him 'twas "Home, sweet home" still, though his feet must never tread that land again, for he was an exile, a victim to the cruel game-laws, that had banished him from his country. Here, 'twas true, the whole forest was his, with all it contained. The beaver, the otter, the fish in the streams, and even the red-spotted deer were his for the taking; but still his heart stole back again to that forbidden land.

"Oh, that I might drop a tear and plant a flower on thy grave, Lisbeth! Thou wert all the world to me--a true wife and a friend. And the bairn? Oh, my God! the bairn! Where is he?"

And here this strong man, hardened by nature to all the toils and dangers of the forest, the rapids, the wild beasts, and the scalping parties of red foes, broke down in an agony of tears and wept, for he thought of his little blue-eyed laddie of two years; the poor motherless bairn, as he had last seen him, with his flaxen curls nestling in his arms.

How often he had longed to go home and find his boy, to find even if he were yet alive; but the thought came to him each time--

"How have they taught the lad to regard his father? Perhaps they have told him that I am dead! Well, maybe 'tis better so! Or perhaps they have said, 'He is an exile in a far-off land, and he will return no more, for in the eyes of the law he is a criminal.' Then so it must remain, lest the father's curse should blight the lad; but what would I not give to see my child again after all these years."

Then he flung himself down upon a pile of skins and wept again. That night sleep fled from his eyelids, as it had often done before when these longings for the homeland had come over him, but never, never before had his agony been so great. He prayed his God for something he had never dared to ask before. It was that he might be permitted, before he died, to look upon the face of his child again, even though the lad should not know him. And his prayer was answered, for an angel from the stars above came down and kissed him, as he lay beneath the silent pines, and whispered--

"It shall be!"

And he slept, for his cares had fled, and a deep peace had filled his soul.

Such were thy sons, oh, England! Their bold, proud spirits chafed and were cramped within thy narrow limits, and narrower laws, made by and for the selfish few, in days, happily, long past. And yet they loved their native land, though exiled from hearth and home; and when duty called, they lined thy distant frontiers; they held thy far-flung borders, and were content to leave their bones to bleach beside some lonely outpost of the Empire they helped to build. But let us for a while leave this lonely frontiersman, and return to our friends and their Iroquois companions.

Four days had been spent in navigating Lake Ontario, and they were now approaching Niagara, below whose thunderous rapids stood the French fort that guarded both the river and the lakes.

Towards evening on the fourth day a distant speck was seen approaching from the westward, and the White Eagle, standing in the bow of the foremost canoe, as he gazed into the face of the setting sun, permitted a sudden cry of surprise to escape from his lips--

"Algonquins!"

'Twas only too true, for there, rapidly approaching and hugging the southern shore of the lake, was a large party of their hated foes, in their big canoes of elm-bark.

The discovery appeared to be mutual, for both parties rent the air with their respective war-cries, and hastened ashore to make ready for the coming battle. Darkness soon settled over forest and lake, but all through the night the woods resounded with the dreadful war-whoops of the Indians, as they chanted their war-songs, and worked themselves into a frenzy of fury.

What a night that was for the two young paleface warriors! The war fever of the Iroquois had in a measure entered into their blood, for they saw in the Algonquins the allies of France and the enemies of England, so they prepared to defend themselves in the morning.

Day dawned at last, and White Eagle and his braves pressed forward to battle; not shoulder to shoulder, nor in unresisting phalanx, as the soldiers of the palefaces fought, but in true Indian fashion the dark-skinned warriors leapt from tree to tree, and cover to cover. Showers of arrows and bullets rattled amongst the trees and rocks, and the wild yells became every moment fiercer and fiercer. Several warriors had fallen on each side, and a dozen scalps had been taken, as the frequent yells of triumph announced.

Deeds of desperate valour were recklessly performed. Homeric contests, ending in frightful wounds or instant death were frequently engaged in, when suddenly, from behind the cover of a huge elm-tree, the Algonquin chief, his plume of black raven feathers nodding with his frenzied action, rushed into the open and challenged the Iroquois leader to single combat.

With a yell of delight White Eagle bounded into the clearing, and accepted the offer. Then, instantly, as if by instinct, every weapon was lowered, and the non-combatants ranged themselves on either side, in a rude semicircle, with a rising back-ground of tall pines and elms, to watch this gladiatorial contest, which threatened to be both brief and sanguinary.

Then followed a pause, during which the two chiefs addressed each other in the figurative but boastful braggadocia, in the use of which the red men excelled all the other nations of the world. The Algonquin chief, whose name was "Black Raven," began as follows--

"Mingo dog! where are the scalps of the Iroquois warriors who came to the Canada River? Ten of them have not returned to their tribe, since the snows melted. My children went to the lodges of the Maquas and the Oneidas, but they found only squaws and children. The scalps of the Iroquois are in the wigwams of the Canadas, and the Canada Father has rewarded his children with many hatchets, and powder to burn in the face of their enemies, because they have cleared the snakes from the woods! The moccasins of the Iroquois cannot be found in the forest. They have been driven from the hunting-grounds of their fathers, never, never to return----!"

"Skunk of the Algonquins!" retorted the Iroquois, "your tongue is forked, like the serpent that hides its head in the grass, and your arm is feeble as the squaw of the Delaware. The singing-birds have called your young men from their Canada lodges, so that my warriors may take their scalps, for before the sun is amongst the pines, your warriors will have followed him into the hunting-grounds of the Great Spirit."

"Iroquois muskrat! Your tongue is sharper than your knife!"

"Hark! What is that sound that I hear? 'Tis the wailing of the squaws in your Canada lodges, because their young men return no more."

"Iroquois snake! Skulking fox!" retorted the Algonquin. "'Tis to you that the singing-birds have spoken, but they have spoken falsely. Slaves of the Yengeese! Never more will your war-whoop be heard in the woods; never more will you fish the streams and hunt the deer, for before the sun shall rise the girdles of my young men will be heavy with your scalps. 'Tis the Mingoes who are women, like the Delawares. They killed my young men when the face of the Manitou was turned away from His children in anger, but now the Great Spirit has delivered you into our hands, and nevermore shall your squaws behold you."

"Dogs of the Canadas! The Iroquois are free and strong as the eagle that soars to the clouds, but the Algonquins are skunks and muskrats. They are slaves to the Canada palefaces. Go hunt the deer and the moose for your French Father, and when, for your portion, he throws you the offals--be grateful."

The tomahawk of the French Indian whirled in the air, as, stung by this biting insult to his tribe, he hurled it at his enemy, and so true was the aim that it only missed the scalp of the Iroquois by an inch, for it carried away half his plume of eagle feathers.

A loud cry of vengeance arose from his warriors as this deadly missile whizzed past their leader.

The next instant the wild scream of an eagle, which was the peculiar war-cry of this renowned chief, rang through the glades and across the lake as the leaders closed in deadly combat. Like the leap of the panther, when robbed of its young, was the fierce onset of the Iroquois chief. Fifty gleaming knives were snatched from their sheaths, and held aloft; but before the warriors on either side could reach the spot, the tomahawk of the White Eagle had stretched his opponent upon the ground, and with keen knife he had already snatched away the trophy that honour demanded.

Then, amid war-whoops and wild yells of savage fury, the fierce passions of the warriors became undammed, and a short but sanguinary conflict occurred. The Algonquins, despite the loss of their leader, fought bravely for a while, but were at length overwhelmed by the relentless fury of the Iroquois. Then they quickly broke and scattered through the forest, pursued by their enemy.

Thus ended another of those fierce fights, so common amongst the Indians tribes in the middle of the eighteenth century, while all the time the armies of the two paleface nations from towards the sun-rising were preparing for that final death grapple, which was to settle for ever the destiny of the northern half of that mighty continent; and to drive the scattered tribes of the children of the Manitou ever westward towards the setting sun.

In this brief fight the youths had remained little more than passive spectators, for they soon saw how the conflict must end, and that without their help the Iroquois, although outnumbered, would secure the victory.

"I do wish, Jack, that our allies would desist from that barbarous practice of taking scalps. See there! a dozen scalps already hang at the girdles of our comrades, and even yet they are not satisfied, but must pursue their wretched victims into the woods. Bah! My heart sickens at the sight!"

"'Tis Indian nature, Jamie. Victory brings them no honour unless the victim's scalp be taken. Even the squaws look askance at the warrior who returns from the war-path without these hideous trophies hanging at his belt."

"There seems little honour to me in mangling the corpse of a fallen victim."

"Why, the youth is scarcely regarded as a man till he has brought home his first scalp. Their belief is, that the spirit and strength of the dead man enters into the victorious brave, and, horrible as it is, and God knows how I hate it all, 'tis not more horrible than the deeds of some of the paleface pirates in the Southern Seas, who sometimes treat their unfortunate victims in a cruel and barbarous manner."

They had been leaning on their rifles, on a little rising ground near the lake, watching the fight and the pursuit, when suddenly from out the dark aisles of the forest there came the piercing scream of the eagle once more.

"What can be the matter now? Surely the enemy are not returning, reinforced!" cried Red Feather, quickly bringing his rifle to the ready.

"No. 'Tis the signal for the return of the braves; evidently White Eagle scents a new danger, and is anxious to get away."

"What new danger can there be?"

"Why, don't you see that the Algonquins have taken the route that will lead them to the French fort at Niagara, where almost every soldier will turn out to their assistance, when they hear that the renowned White Eagle is within twenty miles of the fort? At least, I assume that is the cause; but look! Here comes the chief himself, and he is making for the canoes. Let us speak with him."

CHAPTER XI

THE SMOKE-SIGNAL

"What is the matter, chief?" asked Jack. "What new danger has my red brother discovered?"

"Look!" replied White Eagle, pointing in the direction of the fort and along the shore of the lake. "What does my paleface brother see yonder?"

Jack strained his eyes in the direction indicated, but for some seconds even his keen eyes did not notice anything unusual. At length, however, he perceived a thin column of smoke far away in the distance, rising above the forest and lake; then a second and a third column, but so faint as to be nearly indistinguishable.

"I see the smoke from the camp-fires of a party of hunters, perhaps Yengeese trappers, but nothing that threatens danger."

The sachem shook his head sagely, as he replied--

"No Yengeese! It is Algonquin smoke. A signal to the paleface warriors at the fort, who will hurry to burn their powder in the face of White Eagle. Too much price on Iroquois scalp!" And here the chief's face relaxed into the faintest of smiles, as though he appreciated the value that was placed upon his head by the French, and considered it a great honour and a tribute to his prowess and the impotence of his enemies.

Then for an instant his face became clouded and a momentary wave of irresolution passed over his countenance. To escape the net that was being drawn around him was comparatively easy, but to convey all the plunder of the expedition safely to the lodges of the Iroquois was another matter. His resolution, however, was quickly taken. They were now within ten miles of the mouth of a stream, called "Twelve Mile Creek," that entered the forest south of Lake Ontario, and only a dozen miles from the fort. To gain that creek, to take the loaded canoes up the stream against the rapids and rifts, and then to make a portage of four miles to gain the Niagara River above the fort, was the daring resolve of the White Eagle.

It was a piece of daring that was worthy of an Iroquois chief, who had already secured a reputation for reckless daring that was second to that of no other chief amongst the Six Nations. The great danger lay in the fact that at one bend in the stream they would be within seven or eight miles of the fort, with all the possibilities of being ambushed by their hated foes and also by the Frenchers.

The whole party now took to the canoes, and proceeded as rapidly and as silently as possible along the shore in a westerly direction. Soon after mid-day they reached the mouth of the creek, and without a moment's delay, except to land a couple of scouts on either bank, they paddled as quickly as possible up the narrow stream, while the scouts went ahead to explore the forest-lined banks and to give the alarm as soon as they should discover the slightest sign of the enemy, who could not now be far away. To these eager warriors their progress seemed to be painfully slow. Fallen trees sometimes blocked their way. At other times the canoes had to be dragged through the shallows and lifted over rocks.

It was hard work, but the youths bore their share of all this arduous toil. It was exciting, too, for at any moment they might hear the crack of the Algonquin and French rifles. Sometimes they were up to their knees in the water, pushing and lifting the canoes forward.

As they advanced further and further up the watercourse, for it could hardly be called a river, the creek narrowed and the trees overhung and interlaced, shutting out the sun, so that, though it was little past mid-day, it was scarcely more than twilight. Not a word was spoken for a while, and except for the music of the stream the forest was as silent as death. Even the birds had ceased to sing, and the little squirrels watched them furtively from the branches overhead, wondering what strange creatures these were who were toiling so arduously at the canoes.

Not a signal had come as yet from the scouts, on whom they were implicitly relying. They were getting perilously near to that fatal bend in the river where if an ambush was in hiding, it was sure to be. The Indians exchanged suspicious glances. They fingered their knives and tomahawks uneasily and frequently looked to the priming of their rifles.

"What is that noise I can hear, rising and falling, very faintly, like the water of the Big Salt Lake in a storm, when the Manitou is angry?" asked Jack of one of the Iroquois braves, who was called the Panther.

"'Tis the Spirit of the Wacondah in the caverns under the Great Falls!" answered the Indian in low and reverent tones.

"Niagara!" whispered Jack to his comrade, "and only a few miles away."

"Yes. The Iroquois believe that the Great Spirit, the God of Thunder, dwells under the Falls, and they speak of him always in a whisper, even by their firesides far away."

"Hist! What was that?"

The crackle of a twig was heard on the western bank, and the eye of every Indian was instantly turned in that direction, while many a hand instinctively grasped its weapon more tightly. The bushes parted, and an Iroquois scout came forth from the cover of the forest and sought the eye of his chief. Evidently he had something of importance to communicate.

White Eagle left the batteaux and approached him. Then a few guttural exclamations passed between them, and the scout disappeared once more as quietly as he had come.

"Did you hear what he said, Panther?"

"Yes. The Algonquins, with whom we fought early this morning, have fallen in with another party under Le Grand Loup, a renowned chief, who is White Eagle's greatest enemy, and they have laid an ambush for us two miles further up the stream. In addition, help is expected from the fort within an hour," replied the brave.

"Snakes alive! What will the chief do?"

"Ugh! White Eagle no afraid. The Wacondah fights for him."

The scouts had done their work bravely and well. They had soon discovered the prints of Algonquin moccasins in the woods. Some they found had led towards the bend in the river where the ambush had been laid. They had even penetrated to this spot, past the enemy's scouts, and had learnt of the juncture of the two parties. They had also discovered the trail of an Indian runner in the direction of the fort, and had heard the drums of the French calling the men to arms.

"What's to be done, Jack? We're scarcely out of one fix before we're in another."

"It seems so!" said that worthy. "I don't know what the Eagle will do, but something will have to be done, and quickly, if we're to retain our scalp-locks."

"Look! What is the chief about? The men are dragging the canoes ashore and piling the brushwood around them."

"Why, he's going to burn them to prevent them falling into the hands of the enemy. 'Tis certain that we shall never get them past the next bend; so, after all, our labour has been in vain."

Jack's surmise was correct. Without a moment's hesitation, as soon as the scout had departed, the sachem ordered the boats to be so placed that at a given signal they could be immediately fired by a small party who were to be left in charge. The rest were to follow him and take the enemy unawares in the rear before the French could arrive to their support.

This plan was put into operation without a moment's delay, and leaving a small party of four in charge of the canoes, the rest entered the forest and moved quickly in the direction of the enemy. As they were likely to encounter the French, the lads decided to accompany the attacking party. They had not proceeded far when the scout met them who had reported the presence of the enemy.

"The paleface warriors are half-way from the fort. What will White Eagle do? They will be here before the sun is below the top-most branches of the pines," said the scout, addressing the chief.

"Ugh! Ugh!" merely remarked the Iroquois; then turning towards the two paleface warriors who accompanied him, he said--

"My brothers, Black Hawk and Red Feather, are great warriors from the land of Wabun. Can they delay the rifles of the French Father for one hour till they hear the scream of the Eagle, while my warriors take the scalps of the Algonquin dogs, who lie in wait like the serpent in the grass?"

"Give us but a dozen rifles, chief, and we'll hold them back for a day!" exclaimed Jack.

"Ugh! My brother will be a great chief before the snows have settled upon his head. Let him chose a dozen rifles from amongst my braves, and they shall accompany the paleface chiefs and follow their orders."

A dozen men were quickly chosen, including the scout and the Panther, and they at once started out, led by the scout through the forest in the direction whence the French must soon come.

Half-a-mile further on they selected a spot where they could await with advantage the arrival of the soldiers from the fort.

"Here! This spot will do! They will soon be here. Let us make ready," said Jamie. The Indians were soon under cover on either side of the rough track which led to the fort.

They could now hear plainly the drums of the advancing army. Soon they caught a glimpse of the white uniforms of the French through the vista of trees.

"There are over a hundred of them, Jamie! Can we hold them back for an hour?"

"We promised the chief that we would, and we must keep our promise," said Jamie, whose lips were compressed and whose brows were knit, as he narrowly watched the approaching French.

The drums were silent now as the foe, with shouldered rifles and martial equipment, marched boldly forward, threading their circuitous route through the forest glades. Careless of any ambush, they came forward singing and laughing, to show how much they despised the savage horde they were expecting shortly to encounter.

Suddenly the sound of distant firing burst upon them. Mingled with the shots were savage yells and whoops, which showed that the Iroquois had attacked the party at the bend of the river. Louder and louder became the din.

"Avancez, mes camarades! Allez vite donc! Il y a ces diables Iroquois!"

At this command the French advanced more quickly, lest the fighting should be all over before they arrived, and the drums beat out again bravely. Their whole attention was engrossed by the distant firing, and they knew not that already the head of their column was entering an ambush, and that fourteen rifles were levelled at their leading files.

"Fire!" shouted Jack, and a deadly hail of bullets followed a blinding flash and a report that echoed through the forest. Taken thus suddenly by surprise, the head of the column staggered and wavered. Many a man fell to rise no more. A panic seized the whole party, and for a few moments it seemed doubtful whether their officers would succeed in rallying them, so susceptible even are the bravest troops to sudden fright when unexpectedly ambushed by an unseen foe.

A second volley was poured in upon the confused mass, and a scene of indescribable terror prevailed. Hoarse shouts of command were heard. The cries of the wounded and the wild yells of the Iroquois resounded through the woods.

The second fire revealed the position of the Iroquois as well as the paucity of their numbers, and the French commander shouted out--

"A moi, camarades! Suivez-moi! Voilà l'ennemi!" and waving his sword he dashed towards the revealed ambush followed by half his troops with fixed bayonets.

Like chaff before the wind the Indians scattered and sought cover in the deeper shades of the forest, leaping from tree to tree, and bush to bush, firing upon the foe, who were compelled to deploy and enter the thicket in single file. This was Indian warfare with a vengeance, for neither party came into the open. For an hour this was kept up, and the French, who could never come to grips with the wily foe, who always retreated like a phantom before their bayonets, were compelled to retire, for their leader had at length come to see that the whole aim of the enemy was merely to delay their approach to the Algonquins.

Suddenly, from a distance, the scream of the Eagle was heard twice in rapid succession.

"Our work is done now, Jamie! Let's give the French a final salute and depart."

A parting volley was let loose upon the enemy, and then the two paleface chiefs led back their band quickly, and rejoined the victorious warriors of the Iroquois chief, who had driven the Algonquins across the river with great slaughter. Only two were wounded, and none were missing, as Jack looked at his dusky warriors, but of the French quite twenty had been killed and wounded.

CHAPTER XII

THE WIGWAMS OF THE IROQUOIS

"The Algonquins are reeds that bend, but my paleface brothers are like the oak-tree!" exclaimed the Iroquois chief, as soon as he beheld the youths.

Thus briefly did the savage warrior pay a graceful tribute to the skill and courage of his friends who had held back the French, and at the same time refer modestly to his own victory.

"There is no time to lose!" exclaimed Jack. "The soldiers from the fort are close upon our heels, we did but delay their approach till we heard your signal. What is to be done? They are in a mood for vengeance."

"Ugh! Let the boats be burnt!"

The howl of the wolf, repeated twice, was given, and the next moment a column of smoke was observed in the direction of the canoes, followed by several loud explosions, as the kegs of gunpowder, which formed part of the lading, blew up.

The next instant the head of the French column appeared through the trees, and White Eagle, seeing the uselessness of continuing the fight against such overwhelming odds, withdrew across the stream with his warriors.

"The Wacondah calls us to our wigwams," he said; and now, lightened of their loads, and carrying only their rifles and scalps, the Iroquois struck across the forest in a south easterly direction, and soon put several leagues between themselves and the French, who arrived soon afterwards, only to find the ashes of the fire and the fragments of the canoes strewn around.

Chagrined and vexed beyond measure that they had once more been baulked of their prey, and that the "Iroquois devils" had got the best of them, they discontinued the useless pursuit, and returned to the fort.

The Indians travelled quickly, and soon reached the head waters of the Genesee River, and on the afternoon of the fifth day, from a lofty eminence they looked down upon the lodges and wigwams of their tribe in the peaceful valley below.

A triumphant yell broke from their lips as they beheld this welcome sight, for ever welcome to the soul of the returning warrior is the lodge that he calls his home. The village was quickly deserted by its inhabitants, for every stripling and maiden, all the squaws and children came dancing and shouting to receive them.

With all the agility and suppleness of the deer, the Indian youths came bounding forth to caper about the braves, to finger those gruesome trophies that hung at their girdles, and to carry their rifles and tomahawks. Their faces were radiant with the lofty hero-worship that burned in their young hearts. How they longed to leave the comparative security of the village and join the war parties!

The maidens, too, well versed in all the art and coquetry of the forest, their long raven tresses decked with flowers, their dark eyes beaming with love, welcomed home their sweethearts with unfeigned joy. But there is always a fly in the honey, and the joy of victory was somewhat marred by the bitter lamenting of those squaws whose husbands and sons returned no more.

A hasty meal was then prepared and set before the Indians in wooden platters and gourds, and as soon as this was cleared away by the attendant squaws, a fire was lit and the braves seated themselves in a circle and waited solemnly for the passing round of the peace-pipe and the council that was to follow. A feeling of reverence and awe seemed to pervade the very atmosphere, and the paleface youths became not a little uneasy, wondering what important event was about to happen next.

The two strangers had caused no little curiosity by their presence, especially amongst the squaws and striplings, but so far no one had addressed them personally. Evidently they were all waiting for some explanation as to why these two palefaces returned home with the braves and were not treated as prisoners. Their curiosity was soon to be satisfied.

A low murmur of voices ran around the council fire, and as if by instinct the braves rose to their feet, and in one place the serried ranks opened to admit a very aged chief, who came from one of the lodges near the "painted post" and slowly made his way to the assembly. He was accompanied by several other aged chiefs, but none amongst them looked so wise or even so old, by a generation at least, as the Sagamore, who now toiled painfully across the ground.

His form had once been straight like the fir-tree, but it was now bent, and he leaned heavily on his staff. His face was covered with wrinkles, and his white locks carried the snows of more than a hundred winters. Not till this aged chief had taken his seat at the post of honour amongst the chiefs that formed the front circle did the Indians deign to follow his example.

Then the sacred pipe, the calumet, was lit and solemnly passed from mouth to mouth, and amid a silence that could almost be felt, the blue smoke curled upwards around the fire and scented the still air of the early evening.

At last the White Eagle rose to speak, and as he did so every eye was intently fixed upon him; even the squaws, who stood at a respectful distance from the charmed circle, stayed their gossip and strained their ears to listen to the weighty words of this renowned sachem.

"Father, you see that we come not back with empty hands. The wigwams of the Algonquins are empty. Their squaws and their children gaze no longer upon their braves, for the scalps of their warriors hang at the girdles of my children."

A hum of satisfaction arose from every part of the circle at these words.

"The Great Spirit has called ten of my braves to the happy hunting-fields out there beyond the sunset," continued the chief, raising his right hand as he spoke and pointing to where the sun had just set amongst the pines, leaving a train of red and gold. "But they had no wounds upon their backs, for their faces were never turned away from their enemies. Their squaws and their children shall be provided for. I have spoken, for the words of a chief are few!"

A low buzz of conversation went round the circle as White Eagle resumed his seat, and many an eye was turned towards the palefaces, as though some explanation of their presence was needed. At length the aged chief rose slowly, assisted by two other chiefs.

Every voice immediately lapsed into silence as the old Sagamore, with flowing locks that were white as the driven snow, began to speak. So aged was he that the oldest warrior in that grim circle could scarcely remember him otherwise than he now was. The children of his generation, and the generation that followed him, had passed away like leaves before the north wind.

"My children!" he began, and his voice at first was low and broken, but they listened to him with all the reverence that awe and superstition can give.

"Many suns have risen and set since 'Keneu,' the war-eagle of his tribe, led his people forth to battle. A hundred winters have whitened the forests and the plains since he first followed the trail of the deer. Then we were chiefs and sagamores from the shores of the Great Salt Lake, far back to the Gitche Gumee and the mountains beyond the plains where, amid the eternal snows, the Manitou dwells in the Silence. Then the forests were full of deer, the plains were full of herds, and the streams were filled with fish; and no paleface was to be found in all the land, for the Wacondah had placed his red children in a land of plenty, and the smoke from the council fire and the calumet, the peace-pipe, rose from every valley, and beside every stream were their lodges, for my people were happy."

"Ugh!" came the ready cry of assent from many a dark-skinned warrior, and many a furtive glance was cast in the direction of the two palefaces.

"Then from the land of the sun-rising," continued the Sagamore, "in his white-winged birch canoe, that brought the thunder and the lightning, came the paleface; and he laid the forest low before him, and he drove my people westward, for the face of the Manitou was turned in anger from his children. Then we turned our faces westward, towards the land of the setting sun, and the regions of the Home-Wind, and we said--

"'Here we will hunt the red deer and the beaver, and from these clear streams we will take the sturgeon and the salmon, and here, when the Manitou calls us, we will die, where we see not the smoke of the paleface, nor hear the sound of his axe.' Was it well then, chief, to bring hither the children of the East Wind?"

The old man ceased speaking and sank down once more upon the rude log that served as a dais, and the silence became even yet more intense when the White Eagle rose again and said--

"Once a mighty paleface came to the lodge of Keneu. Hungry and weary, he came from the land of Wabun, driven here by the cruel laws of his people, and he brought to us the thunder and the lightning, and he taught my people knowledge and wisdom from the sacred writings in the shining land of Wabun. He became the brother and the friend of the red man, and we taught him to hunt the moose and the deer and the beaver, and the Great Sagamore loved him, and gave him a place at the council fire of my people."

"He is the friend of Keneu, and since many moons his lodge stands empty; but who are these? Are they the children of Miquon?" abruptly asked the aged chief, "or the children of the Canadas?"

"They are the children of the Yengeese, and they raised their hands to help the Eagle when his wings were pinioned by the French of the Canadas, and the red man forgets not his friends, when his fetters are freed, else would the Manitou be angry. They are my brothers, and the white blood has been washed from their veins. Will the great father turn them from his lodge?"

This speech produced a wonderful transformation in the faces of all who heard it, and when several other warriors had spoken of the prowess and courage of Red Feather and Black Hawk, a gentler look came over the Sagamore's face as he spoke.

"It is well!" he said. "The Wacondah has willed it. They shall dwell in the lodges of the Iroquois, and my young men shall teach them to hunt the swift deer and the beaver." Then the council broke up, and the men repaired to their wigwams.

This formal introduction over, the youths were shown to a lodge, next the one that awaited the return of the paleface hunter just referred to, and during the weeks and months of their sojourn amongst the tribe they were treated with all the respect and esteem that belonged to an Indian brave. The war hatchet had been buried for a while, so they joined the hunting-parties that often scoured the forests, and they soon became expert in the arts and crafts of these children of the forest, until each could handle a canoe, shoot the rapids and hunt the deer like a true Indian.

"Come with me, my paleface brothers," said White Eagle one day, just before the first snow of winter. "Come with me and I will show you how the Manitou provides for his red children."

So they took their canoes and paddled all day, and then next day they carried their canoes over a portage until they reached the sweet waters of the Tioga River. As soon as the sun had gone down the chief took a pine torch and held it, lighted, over the stream. Almost immediately a dozen fine salmon, attracted by the torch, came to the very edge of the stream. Then a fire was kindled close to the bank, and immediately the river seemed full of living creatures of the finny tribe.

"Look! What a glorious sight!" exclaimed Jamie; "the water is alive with fish." And it was true, for, attracted by the huge blaze, they came tumbling over each other, leaping out of the water by dozens, until the whole surface glowed and shimmered, green and red and purple.

Then the Indians who had accompanied them in order to get a supply for the tribe, entered the water, and with long spears made of hard wood, something after the fashion of a trident, speared and hooked the salmon to their heart's content.

As the youths stood spellbound, gazing at this almost miraculous sight, the chief tapped them on the shoulder and said--

"Does the Manitou fill the rivers of the palefaces with fish and their forests with furs?"

"We have never seen such plenty, chief, in the land of the palefaces. Very often if a man takes a fish from a stream, or a deer from the forest, he is sent to prison and sometimes put to death."

"Humph!" said the chief in a tone of surprise. "Now I know why the paleface comes over the Salt Water to the hunting-grounds of his red brother."

The lads were so dumfounded by this unusual sight that their thoughts turned instinctively to that little burn that sang its way down through a wood-lined vale far away in another land, where to land a single fish was a heinous crime, and yet how they loved that little spot, now so far away; but the voice of the chief awoke them from their reverie, saying--

"Come, my brothers, and fill your canoe with the gifts of the Manitou."

They needed no second bidding, and the next minute they, too, were enjoying the magnificent sport. Very soon all the canoes were filled, and then after a hearty supper of fresh salmon, the fish were sorted, dressed and prepared for drying, after which they were carried home for the winter's supply.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MOCCASIN PRINT IN THE FOREST

During their stay amongst the Iroquois, which had now extended over rather more than a year, the two English youths had gained the esteem and friendship of two young Indians, both the sons of the White Eagle. Their names were respectively "Young Eagle" and "Swift Arrow."

The former was a strong and supple youth of seventeen, sturdy as an oak, but as straight as a cedar. His brother, who was a year younger, had gained his title of "Swift Arrow" because he was so fleet of foot that he could overtake the swiftest deer of the forest with comparative ease. Both inherited much of the courage and fearlessness of their sire.

These four companions spent much of their time, now that the summer had come again, in hunting and fishing, often staying for weeks together in the fastnesses of the forest. They became well-nigh inseparable. Many were the adventures and escapades, and many the dangers, too, that they braved in each other's company.