CHAPTER XXVI
DAVE’S JOURNEY TO QUEBEC
It was not long after he was lost in the snow, that Dave heard news from Quebec that disheartened him greatly. This was that Henry had been arrested for stealing and was likely to be hanged for the offense.
The news came in through several messengers who arrived at Fort Ontario on important business for General Murray. One of the messengers knew Sam Barringford well, and it was this man who gave the news, first to the old frontiersman and then to Dave.
“Henry arrested for stealing!” exclaimed the young soldier. He could scarcely believe that he heard aright.
“Sorry for you, young man, but it’s the truth,” was the reply of the messenger, and he gave what few particulars he knew. He had left Quebec before Henry ran away, so knew nothing of this new turn of affairs.
It was to Barringford that the messenger told how Henry was in danger of hanging. “General Murray is bound that looting shall stop,” said he. “So some time ago he had notices posted up giving warning that a thief caught in the act would be hanged.”
“I’ll wager my life on it, Henry aint no thief,” said Barringford warmly. “Thet boy is as honest as the day is long.”
“I know nothing of that. He is now in prison, or, for all I know, he may be dead.”
Barringford considered it his duty to tell Dave of the fate that overhung his cousin, and the two talked the matter over for the best part of a night.
“If I could get to Quebec I’d go,” declared Dave. “Perhaps I could do something—if—if——” He wanted to say if it was not too late but the words stuck in his throat.
“Say the word an’ I’ll go with ye, Dave,” responded Barringford. “Thar don’t seem to be no ust o’ stayin’ here.”
“Can we make it, Sam? Quebec is a long distance from here.”
“I aint afraid to try it, Dave. I allow as we are goin’ to have a spell o’ good weather.”
“But the Indians?”
“The Injuns don’t stir much in the winter. An’ if we have our muskets an’ a pistol or two I reckon we kin hold our own ag’in ’em.”
The upshot of this conversation was that both Dave and the old hunter went to lay the case before their commander the next morning. The general listened patiently to what they had to say.
“To me such an undertaking is foolhardy at this season of the year,” said the general. “But if you feel that you really want to go, you have my permission, and I will give you each a paper to that effect. But if you lose your lives in the attempt your friends must not blame me.”
Dave and Barringford set off the very next day, in company with two of the messengers, named Grassbrook and Heppy. Both of the messengers were old hunters who knew the trails well, and it was said that Heppy had a trace of Indian blood in him.
The party was two days on its way when they came to the Indian village of Kanankee, presided over by an old chief named Leaping Elk. The Indians were friendly, and the travelers were glad enough to remain with them over night.
In the morning an agreeable surprise awaited Dave. During the night six warriors of the Delawares had come in, under the command of White Buffalo.
“White Buffalo!” cried the young soldier. “Where did you come from?”
“From the southward,” answered White Buffalo. “And where goes White Buffalo’s young friend David?”
“To Quebec—if we can get that far.”
“It will take many days to make the journey.”
“I suppose so—but that cannot be helped.”
Dave then told the Indian chief why he was making the journey. White Buffalo listened attentively and his eyes flashed fire when he heard that Henry had been arrested as a thief.
“The English chief at Quebec is a fool,” he said. “My white brother Henry is no thief. I will tell the English chief that to his face. He is a fool.”
“I want to save Henry if I possibly can,” answered Dave.
“What will David do?”
“I don’t know yet. But I have some letters that tell of Henry’s bravery in battle, and those may help him.”
White Buffalo was silent after this and had but little to say while supper was being prepared and eaten. But before he retired for the night he came to Dave again.
“Would my white brother like White Buffalo to go with him to Quebec?” he asked.
“Oh, White Buffalo, that is asking a good deal of you!”
“Then White Buffalo may go?”
“If you want to go, certainly. But—but—haven’t you anything else to do?”
At this the Indian chief shook his head sadly.
“No, White Buffalo has nothing much left. His tribe is split and broken. Some have gone to the French, many are dead, or wounded, or sick. Six warriors only remain, but they are of the best, and they have sworn by the Great Spirit to stay with their chief to the finish. Let us go with you, and if we meet unfriendly Indians, or the French, we will do what we can to defend you.”
“Now ye air talkin’ right from the heart!” cried Sam Barringford, as he caught White Buffalo’s hand. “Come on by all means. Ye air the whitest Injun I ever seed!” And his face glowed with satisfaction, which pleased White Buffalo greatly.
The journey was resumed as soon as the sun was fairly up. White Buffalo now took the lead, in company with Heppy, and the others followed on behind in close order.
White Buffalo had been over this ground but a short time before, and knew even a better trail than did the messengers from General Murray. He also knew where the snow was lightest, and took them along a ridge where the walking was by no means bad.
For several days the journey proceeded without interruption. Not a sign of Indians or French was seen, and the landscape at times looked utterly deserted. Occasionally when they passed through a patch of woods, or through the forest, they would stir up some wild animal, and they were never without game for a meal all the time they were on the trip.
Half the journey to Quebec was accomplished when there came a light fall of snow, followed by a wind that for twenty-four hours constantly increased in violence. For several hours they kept on in this wind, but as last both the whites and the Indians called a halt.
“White Buffalo knows of shelter close to this spot,” said the Indian chief. “We had best go there, and wait until the mighty wind has fallen.”
All willingly followed White Buffalo to the shelter, which was the under side of a hollowed-out cliff, fronted by some heavy brush and a row of saplings. Here all set to work to clear out a space for themselves and another for a camp-fire, for the wind made the air seem much colder.
Several of the men were taking it easy on some boughs they had cut, while the others were huddled around the camp-fire, warming up, and preparing something to eat, when the wind arose with greater violence than ever. It was a winter “fall,” as it is called in that territory and it whistled and shrieked with a fury that caused more than one in the party to spring to his feet in alarm.
“By gum! This aint no June zephyr!” declared Barringford, as he gazed from the shelter with an anxious look on his bronzed face. “It’s a reg’lar fall, thet’s wot it is!”
“High wind, truly,” put in White Buffalo. “Great Spirit knock down many trees that are proud.”
The Indian chief had scarcely spoken when there came another whirl, which caused the camp-fire to fly in several directions. Then, before anybody could run away, there followed a crash on top of the cliff and then one in front of it.
“The trees are coming down!” yelled Dave.
“We must git out—we’ll be buried under the cliff!” came from Barringford.
As both spoke they tried to leave their dangerous quarters. But the movement came too late. With a thud the tree that had stood above them came down in front of the opening, and an instant later another tree before the cliff landed on top of the first.
A huge branch caught both Dave and Barringford and hurled them flat. Then came another crash, and Dave found himself buried under small stones and dirt, and for the moment he felt as if the end of the world had come.