"Oh! it must be a terrible mistake; you can't mean it, Mr. Harkness!" cried Sandy, white of face, and trembling like a leaf.
Bob, however, understood. He knew the settler would never have sought them out simply to carry an idle rumor. And probably, in that moment of acute pain, the young pioneer once again saw those beady black eyes of the Seneca chief, Black Beaver, as they fastened greedily upon the pretty face of little Kate. He, too, was thrilled with horror when he heard those terrible words; but, fortunately, he could control himself much better than his younger brother.
"Tell us, Mr. Harkness; is Kate lost; and do they only believe she has been carried off, or is it proved?" he asked, his voice hoarse with suffering.
"I am afraid it is but too true, my lad," replied the settler, as he laid his hand on the shoulder of the Armstrong boy.
"Did any one see it done?" continued Bob, between his set teeth; for he could not believe that any neighbor would have stood idly by, and witnessed such an abduction, without doing everything in his power to thwart the evil designs of the prowling red men.
"No. Kate went to the spring for water. Her mother thought once she heard a little cry, and was worried; but, stepping out of doors, she looked that way, and believed she saw Kate's shawl moving among the trees, as though she were stooping down to pick some late wild flower. Reassured, she returned to her work indoors. An hour passed. Then, suddenly she remembered the circumstance and, alarmed, she hurried to the spring."
"And Kate had disappeared?" exclaimed Bob, in dismay.
"Yes," replied the man. "Your mother called aloud again and again, her alarm increasing each moment as no answer came. Wildly she ran across to the cabin of Mr. Brewster, which was the nearest of all the neighbors. He happened to be at home, and, seizing his gun, immediately hurried to aid her, meanwhile sending his boy to sound the alarm."
"Yes, yes, and when they arrived what did they learn?" demanded Sandy.
"They had hardly reached the cabin when who should appear from the woods but your old friend, Pat O'Mara, returned unexpectedly from his last scout."
Both Bob and his brother gave utterance to a cry of joy when the settler uttered these words.
"How fortunate we are to have him with us now!" exclaimed Bob.
"So we all thought," went on Mr. Harkness. "When he had learned what was the trouble, O'Mara immediately made us all keep back until he could closely examine the vicinity of the spring."
"He was looking for the tracks of the kidnappers," remarked one of the hunters.
"Truly, it was a fortunate thing that so clever a trailer should have come into the settlement just when his services were so desperately needed," said another, who knew the Irish trapper's worth.
"O'Mara quickly found the imprint of many moccasins," resumed the settler. "He could tell just how Kate had been suddenly seized by an Indian, who crept up behind while she was stooping beside the spring. Her bucket was found in the bushes, just where the cunning rascals had hidden it, so as to make her mother think she had wandered away in search of butterflies, or to visit some favorite nook where she might be watching a late brood of young quail."
"But you said that, after the cry, our mother saw Kate moving about?" Bob ventured to remark, in puzzled tones.
"That was only another of the crafty schemes of the redskins," replied Mr. Harkness. "O'Mara showed us how one of her captors must have taken her shawl, and, throwing it over his head, showed just enough of himself to deceive the mother. They were evidently afraid lest her one cry might have been heard."
"Please finish," burst out the fretting Sandy; "for I am just wild to rush away home, so as to take up the trail. Is Pat O'Mara waiting for us to come in, so that we may all start out together?"
"Not so," came the quick response. "As soon as he found out positively what had come to pass, the trapper vowed he would himself pursue the fleeing Indians, and bring back the child of his friend, David Armstrong."
"God bless him!" murmured Bob, strangely moved by this evidence of the woodranger's devotion.
"Tired as he was with half a day's tramp," the settler went on, "and hardly waiting to replenish his stock of powder and ball, as well as to secure an extra flint and steel for his tinder bag, Pat O'Mara rushed away, following the trail."
"Alone?" gasped Sandy.
"It could not be otherwise," replied the other, sadly. "Here were eight of the defenders of the settlement away on a hunt. One man must be sent out to carry you the terrible news, as well as urge a hasty return. Since we thus knew that hostiles were apparently on the warpath, we dared not weaken our fighting force further, much as we felt for your good mother."
"Then let us hasten home without any further delay," said Bob, firmly, while the light of a great resolution shone in his brave eyes. "Take courage, Sandy; all is not lost! We can follow the wicked thieves; and already our friend Pat O'Mara is hot on the trail! How many of the Indians were there, did he say, Mr. Harkness?"
"I think four in all, counting the one who seized your sister," came the reply.
The eyes of the two boys sought each other's face; it was as though the same thought had instantly flashed into both minds.
"The young Seneca chief, Black Beaver!" exclaimed Sandy.
"He had three companions with him," Bob went on; "and, instead of continuing on to his far distant village, which he declared was away up on the shore of the Great Lakes, the treacherous dog has hovered about the settlement ever since that day, waiting for a favorable chance to come when he could steal our little sister away. That time came when he saw us depart with the rest on this big hunt!"
It was quickly arranged that Bob and Sandy should hasten on ahead in the company of the settler. Some of the others promised to bring in their share of the fresh buffalo meat.
Forgotten was their fatigue. Love for the sweet little sister, who had been a ray of sunlight in that frontier cabin, urged the boys on, so that they put the hardy settler to his best efforts to keep abreast of them.
And, before the afternoon was far spent, they drew near the cabin in the big clearing, where the resolute arms of David Armstrong and his two sons had built so comfortable a home.
It was now a scene of tremendous commotion. Men and women could be seen moving around, looking toward the woods, and shielding their eyes from the fierce sun's rays, while they watched for the coming of the eager brothers of the little maid who had been so strangely abducted by a savage and treacherous enemy.
Bob remembered the other occasion when, on arriving home, they had found neighbors gathered about their cabin; but how different the conditions were! On that day it had been to rejoice with the Armstrongs that the settlers and their wives had gathered; now it was to mourn, to comfort, to advise.
Mrs. Armstrong was prostrated by the dreadful calamity that had befallen her; for, to have her sweet child thus taken away, never again perhaps to be folded in her motherly arms, was a blow that caused her heart to sink with dread.
It seemed all the worse because the father was away, heading toward the rising sun, and himself exposed to constant danger from the foes that lurked in the dark recesses of the forest.
But, when her two brave boys had taken her in their embrace, and assured her that they would never rest until Kate were brought back, the poor mother took fresh courage. She knew that there was still a hope, faint though it might be.
The boys were filled with zeal. They knew that an expedition lay before them such as must dwarf all others in which they had engaged. Even experienced forest rangers might well pause before attempting to pierce that hostile country, where not a friendly white might be met, those they were apt to run across being the trouble-making French trappers and traders, who had come down from Canada in the hope and expectation of arousing the combined tribes against the English-speaking settlers, so that the entire country might be reserved for themselves, from the Great Lakes down to the town on the Gulf, near the mouth of the Mississippi River.
Many hands assisted them in making speedy preparations, for every one was deeply interested in their mission. Few expected to ever see the brave brothers again, although all such gloomy beliefs were kept in the background, so that they might not add to the woes of the poor mother.
This one brought a supply of bullets; another filled the capacious horns with the necessary powder, without which the adventurers would be next to helpless, once they were far away from the outposts of civilization. Still a third looked after a stock of pemmican, which was to sustain them as they pushed ever onward into the unexplored depths of that vast wilderness, teeming with dangers.
Sandy could think of nothing, he was so eager to be on the move; but Bob, besides comforting his mother, made sure that they had plenty of tinder; that an extra pair of moccasins was fastened to each belt, since they knew not when those they wore might give way under the long tramp; and also that both knives were in a condition of sharpness to give a good account of themselves.
All these things were done in a comparatively short time. The sun was still two hours high when they announced themselves as ready to start on their perilous journey into the unknown.
Mr. Brewster had assured them that their mother should be taken into his family, and guarded well during their absence. This kindness gave Bob new courage, for he felt that he could put out of his mind all anxieties concerning their home, and devote himself entirely to the rescue of Kate.
Several of the men announced that they intended accompanying the young pioneers a short distance on their way, to give them encouragement and a good send-off. Nor were the two lads averse to such a proceeding, as it served to soften the painful parting with their mother.
The trail was taken up at the spring. No particular effort had been made by the Indians to hide their tracks, and it was little trouble for such keen-eyed trackers as Bob and Sandy to follow the plain marks.
The dusky raiders had been careful, apparently, to avoid being seen by any of the settlers as they hurried away, after securing the white girl. Since no trace of Kate's little moccasins could be found, Bob knew that she must have been carried.
More than once he stooped low to examine the imprint in the clay of the leading Indian's elkskin footwear. It was his purpose to know any peculiarity that attached to those moccasins, so that he might recognize them again at any future time among a dozen similar tracks.
A circuit was made so as to pass fully around and below the settlement. Then gradually the trail began to near the border of the great river. Bob knew what this signified. Of course the Iroquois must have had a canoe hidden somewhere, in which they had crossed the stream.
One of the men was immediately sent back to secure such a boat, and hasten down the stream, so that it might be available should the boys seek to pass over to the opposite shore. Half an hour later the little company stood on the bank, waiting for the canoe to reach them, having signalled to the paddler as agreed upon.
Plain marks could be seen where a canoe had been carried from the bushes and launched, afterward being entered by the red men. There was something more awaiting them here on the bank of the beautiful river. A stick held a scrap of paper, on which were a few lines of crabbed writing. It was a message from Pat O'Mara; and, though the Irish trapper talked rather uncouthly, he could at least frame his thoughts in fairly decent English.
This then was what he had written:
"Indians crossed river here in canoe. Will follow, and, when find where landed, leave piece of red cloth in stick. Look for it close to water's edge."
That was all, but it signified much to the eager boys, who were only waiting for the coming of the dugout to themselves push across the river. Trust to their keen eyes to discover that tiny bit of flaming cloth!
"But where could he have found a boat?" asked Sandy, looking surprised, as this puzzle presented itself before him.
Bob shook his head. He knew the daring nature of O'Mara too well to believe that the other would halt in his pursuit simply because he wanted a canoe.
"A log upon which he could fasten his gun and powder-horn would be enough for him," he declared, positively. "This he would push ahead as he battled with the current of the river. Landing somewhere below, he could easily hasten up the shore, looking for signs. And long before now, Sandy, he is, let us hope, following on the heels of those treacherous wolves."
"Here is the canoe, Bob," said Sandy, drawing a long breath of relief; for he had fretted at the delay, counting the minutes while the settler paddled down to where they stood waiting.
Quickly they jumped aboard. The canoe was to be hidden on the other shore, so as to afford them a means for recrossing the stream when they returned from the chase. And how sincerely both those devoted brothers hoped that, when this time arrived, be it sooner or later, Kate would be in their company again.
A handshake all around followed, with words of good cheer from those who were compelled to remain behind, despite their desire to be with the brave boys. Then the canoe was pushed out upon the waters of the Ohio, and the paddles sent it flashing over in the direction of the opposite shore, where unknown perils must await the bold adventurers.
"Keep your eyes on the watch for any sign, of a red signal!" Bob kept saying, as they began to draw near the northern shore.
Sandy presently gave a cry of delight.
"I see it, Bob!" he exclaimed. "Just below us, there, where that willow hangs over the water. Pat O'Mara has been there, and found where they landed. Now we can take up the trail, and follow the stealers of our little sister, even if the hunt takes us to the big waters of the north. For never will we return while she remains a prisoner of the red men!"
"Yes, you are right, Sandy," said Bob, as he, too, discovered the small flaming signal, evidently a part of a large red kerchief he remembered the jovial Irish trapper possessed, and which he was not averse to sacrificing in an emergency.
They headed the boat straight for the willow that hung over the edge of the water, and a minute later its keel grated on the pebbly beach. Both boys instantly jumped ashore, and hastened to reach the signal; for they saw that again had the woodsman left a note in a splintered stick, as though desirous of giving those he knew would surely follow after him such information as he himself had obtained.
"The four Senecas at cabin—Black Beaver, young chief—lodges on shore of Great Lake, far to north, and west of big falls. I push on. We may meet later. Hope! Remember our signal calls!"
Every word was to the point, and in that brief communication the trapper had given them much news. First and most important of all he had confirmed the suspicion both boys had entertained as to its being Black Beaver who had done this cruel and treacherous deed. Then he had told them where the village was located to which the Seneca belonged, which information might yet prove of great value to them in case they were unfortunate enough to lose the trail, and have to push on at a hazard. They had heard of the mighty cataract, Niagara, that lay between two of the lakes, and which was undoubtedly meant.
What he wrote about the signals they also understood to signify that if, at any time, they heard the call of a bird, thrice repeated, it would be his method of communicating the fact that he was near by. Many times had O'Mara amused and interested the Armstrong boys with his clever imitations of various feathered and furred inhabitants of the wilderness; and even taught them to copy the same, so that they could read a message in such sounds.
"We must first of all conceal the dugout," said Bob, when his brother began to exhibit an eagerness to be off.
"Then let us not waste another minute, Bob!" cried Sandy, as he laid hold on the bow of the craft, prepared to do his share toward carrying it into the adjacent bushes, where it might remain hidden until such time as they again wanted to cross the river.
This duty done, Bob was ready to take up the trail.
"See how thoughtful O'Mara has been," he remarked, immediately.
"I see what you mean," replied Sandy, quickly. "He has made heavy tracks as he followed after the Indians, so that we might have an easier task. That ought to help us greatly, Bob, don't you think?"
"Surely," the older boy remarked, as he led the way into the thickest of the neighboring woods.
"But you look unhappy," continued Sandy, who was quick to read the face of his brother. "What worries you now, Bob? Are you positive that Kate is with these Indians? Once or twice a horrible fear has forced itself into my brain that they may have slain her, and hidden her body away somewhere."
"No, no, do not think that!" cried Bob, instantly, though he could not repress the shudder that his brother's gloomy words brought upon him. "I know she is alive, or was when the Indians stepped ashore, for I believe I saw the faint impression of her little moccasin in the earth, almost hidden by the tread of a brave."
"Then what makes you frown and look so black?" demanded Sandy.
"You forget that the day is almost done," the other remarked, significantly.
"To be sure it is," replied Sandy, casting a glance aloft to where glimpses of the sky could be seen through the dense branches of the tall forest trees.
"And that when night comes we shall no longer be able to follow the trail, while those we hunt can keep right on, hour after hour, putting mile after mile between us. That is what makes me bitter," Bob said, even though he did not pause in his onward movement.
"But what is to hinder our securing torches, and continuing on as long as we can put one foot before the other?" demanded his brother.
"An excellent idea, and we must try it," declared Bob, nodding his head as if pleased over this bright thought. "In that way we may at least cut down some of their long lead, which will count sooner or later in our favor."
"Yes," continued the other lad, "and if, by chance, Pat O'Mara should glimpse our moving torch, be sure he will hasten to join us. I will keep an eye out from now on, so as to pick up enough fat pine wood to serve us for torches, once it grows too dark for you to see the trail plainly."
Bob hastened as well as he was able, and, for another hour, they kept moving on, steadily heading into the deeper forest, where perhaps the foot of a white man had never before been set.
Then came the darkness which they dreaded. By slow degrees Bob was finding his task more and more difficult. Time was when he could see the plain trail left by their friend, the Irish trapper, as well as the footprints of the savages, without bending over to any extent. Then he had to get his face closer to the ground, as twilight came on, until, finally, he declared that he could no longer be positive that he was right.
They dared not risk losing the trail. Consequently it became necessary to halt for a brief rest, during which they might munch some of the tough pemmican provided for just such an emergency. Then, a little later, when they felt refreshed, the tracking could be resumed by the aid of a flare.
Darkness now surrounded them. The trackless forest stretched ahead, peopled only with enemies, both animal and human. These young pioneers never once faltered in their self-appointed task. If, at any time, such a feeling tried to take possession of their hearts, it was indignantly suppressed. Only a thought of Kate, or of that almost distracted mother whom they had promised so faithfully to serve as though they were men grown, was needed to inspire them anew with determination.
Presently Sandy took his tinder bag, got to work with flint and steel, and, being somewhat of an expert in this necessary woodsman's accomplishment, soon had a torch blazing merrily.
This Bob held as he once more took to the trail, gripping his gun in one hand. Sandy came close at his heels, with his cocked musket ready to be discharged at a second's warning, and endeavoring to see into the impenetrable walls of darkness that surrounded them.
"How does it go, Bob?" he asked after a bit, during which they had covered fully fifty yards.
"Fine!" answered his brother. "I have no difficulty now, in seeing the tracks. If only they would halt for the night, we might come up with them. But Indians can keep up a dog-trot for hours, you know; and these thieves are doing that now."
"But can one of them be carrying our sister all this time?" asked Sandy.
"Not so. Look here, and you will see the print of her moccasin. I know it well, because it is so much smaller than the others," remarked Bob, halting a minute to point to the ground at a certain open spot.
"Yes," cried Sandy, eagerly, "and surely I ought to know it, too, since I helped Kate make those same moccasins. She is alive and well up to now. But, after all, Kate is a girl, and she will not be able to travel long in this fashion."
"Then they will either have to stop and make camp, or else pick her up and carry her," Bob declared, positively.
"But which do you think it will be?" asked his brother.
"They fear the anger of the whites so much," Bob continued, once more moving on, "that they are anxious to get as far away as they can from the settlement. Perhaps they know Colonel Boone to be our friend, and his name is feared in every Indian wigwam from Fort Pitt to the Mississippi, and from the Great Lakes down to the southern border of the Dark and Bloody Ground known as Kentucky. They will go on, and carry Kate."
After that for a long time the brothers did not exchange words, save when something came up to excite their curiosity or their fears that they were about to lose the trail.
"I can see signs to tell me they have begun to stop now and then to hide their tracks. Only for the help given by O'Mara I would perhaps have to stop until we had daylight to show us the trail," Bob had declared, much to the distress of his companion; for Sandy was easily influenced to extremes by either good or bad fortune.
"We must go on just as far as we dare to-night," he said, stubbornly. "Every furlong gained will count in the end. As for being tired, I forget all that when I see mother's dear face as she kissed us good-bye, and begged us not to give up until we believed every hope gone."
So, for another half hour, they managed to move along. Three torches had been consumed thus far, and Sandy held only one more. It would probably be sufficient, for human nature has its limit, and the boys could hardly expect to keep up this killing pace all through the long hours of that dreadful night.
Now and then Bob would stop for a brief time to straighten up, and rest his cramped back. At such times it was only natural for him to stare ahead into the black depths of the woods that confronted them, stretching away hundreds of miles to the mysterious north, until finally they ended on the shore of that inland fresh water sea now known as Lake Erie, but at that time going with the others under the general name of the Great Lakes, though some called it after the tribe living on its shore.
It was on one of these breathing halts that Sandy, happening to send a glance back along the hidden path they had come over, gave a low cry, and gripped the arm of his brother convulsively, as he exclaimed in a whisper:
"We are followed, Bob! I surely saw the figure of an Indian flitting from tree to tree, back there! Drop the torch and fall flat, before an arrow comes!"
Quick to act in the presence of danger, Bob instantly dashed the blazing torch to the ground, and set his foot upon it. Then, in company with his brother, he dropped flat to the earth, as they had been taught to do by the Irish trapper.
They half expected to hear the hiss of a feathered shaft as it whizzed through the air over them, and each boy gripped his musket nervously, as he crouched there among the bushes, waiting for he hardly knew what.
"Do you hear them coming?" whispered Sandy.
"No," replied the other; "but we must not stay here. They will try to surround us, and cut us off from flight."
"But if we leave here we must lose the trail," objected Sandy.
"True," replied his brother in the same guarded tone; "but should we be captured or killed what then would become of poor little Kate? Come!"
As usual, Sandy was ready to give in to the better judgment of his older brother, and hence, when Bob began to creep away, he kept as close at his heels as possible.
Doubtless their hearts beat faster than usual as the two lads thus moved over the ground. They had not gone ten paces when again Sandy drew the attention of the one in the lead to something he had discovered.
"Look to the left!" he whispered, as he poked at Bob's foot with the muzzle of his gun.
Turning his head, Bob saw a startling sight.
The late moon was just rising in the east. Because of a dip in the ground, and also a thinning out of the trees in that quarter, due to some tornado that had made a slash in the timbers, her blood-red disc could be seen just above the horizon.
And there, plainly marked against the face of the harvest moon, they could see the head and shoulders of an Indian brave! So plain did the picture appear that it was possible to even distinguish the feather that stood up in the hair of the red man.
"We must turn the other way," said Bob, as his brother crawled up alongside him, so that their heads came close together.
"Wait!" whispered the other. "Somehow that feather seems familiar to me."
"Do you mean it might be Blue Jacket?" asked Bob, eagerly; for, to tell the truth, he himself had had a similar idea flash through his mind.
"Nothing more. See, he seems to be looking around calmly, as though in no hurry to make a hostile move. There, he has put his hand up to his mouth. I believe he means to signal. Yes, listen, there goes the bark of the red fox, which you remember he always uses to tell us he is near. It must be Blue Jacket!"
Bob, however, laid a hand on his reckless brother.
"Let me try him first, Sandy," he said; and immediately there broke out the singular grunting sound which a hedgehog makes when turning over the dead leaves looking for his food.
Immediately a low voice called out:
"Bob! Sandy!"
After that there could no longer be any doubt as to the identity of the Indian whose head had been so strangely outlined against the circle of the moon. Gaining their feet, the two young pioneers directed the other to where they were standing. And it was with considerable satisfaction they thus made the discovery that it was a friend instead of a foe whose coming had alarmed them.
"Ugh!" said Blue Jacket, as he gripped a hand of each, having learned this method of greeting among the whites while an inmate of the Armstrong cabin, recovering from his wound. "Glad meet Bob, Sandy. Much wonder who carry torch in woods. Think paleface boy, no can be sure. What hunt so far away settlement?"
"Kate has been stolen by four Seneca Indians, and they are speeding as fast as they can go toward their village away to the far north!" Bob explained.
Had it been a white man he would have shown more or less astonishment at this startling news. Blue Jacket, being an Indian, and schooled to repress his feelings on all occasions, merely grunted, as he replied:
"Bad! Much hard get back. How know?"
Between them the two boys related how the awful shock had come upon them while they were about to return home after a successful hunt. They also mentioned what the reader already knows about Pat O'Mara being on the trail in advance, determined to save the daughter of his good friends.
"And you, Blue Jacket, will you not join us?" asked Sandy.
The young Shawanee never hesitated an instant to consider the matter.
"Me go where Bob, Sandy go. Never forget him mother, what she do. Tell much more. No can walk in woods till rest. Four Iroquois say? Who?" he said, in the terse way that was so much a part of his stoical nature.
"We believe that she was stolen by a young Seneca chief known by the name of Black Beaver among the settlers. Do you know him, Blue Jacket?" asked Bob.
He felt the Shawanee start, which told him that what he said must have given their red friend a shock.
"Black Beaver sent down by Pontiac, visit my people with war arrow. Tell that red men all over north ready dig up hatchet, and go on warpath. How Bob, Sandy see um?" he asked.
"He and three of his braves came to our settlement some time ago," returned the white boy. "They created quite an excitement, for it was believed that we were about to be attacked by the enemy. But they held their hands out, palms upward, in token of peace, and said they were a long way from their lodges, with their tobacco gone, and little ammunition left with which to kill game. So we gave them of both, and they pretended to go their way, saying that they were the friends of the white man."
"Yes," broke in Sandy just then; "but we saw how the young chief looked hungrily at our pretty little sister, Kate, and both of us worried, for fear that some day he might return to give us trouble. But we did not think it would come so soon. He hung around until the chance arrived; then the blow fell."
"Blue Jacket saw trail through the woods," continued the other, in his low musical voice; "where four braves and a squaw be followed by a paleface. He think something wrong. Then night come, and he camp under tree. Just at moonrise see dancing fire through woods. Think Indians hunt deer with torch as much do. Just get close, fire go. But Blue Jacket know then it not Indian, but white boy. He think of Bob, Sandy. Listen for while; then give bark of red fox. Now know all."
"And you will stick to us through thick and thin, Blue Jacket?" demanded Sandy.
The Shawanee brave once more thrust out his dusky hand, and gravely took that of each of the young pioneers in turn. They knew from this that they might count on such assistance as he could give them. Actions take the place of words with an Indian; a look or a movement counts for volumes.
All made their way back to the trail, so that there would be no delay later on, when they were ready to once more take up the pursuit of the girl-stealers.
"How long must we lie idle here?" groaned Sandy, when a full hour had passed by, without any further action.
"Perhaps until morning," replied his brother, "so you had better try and get some sleep. We must be rested in order to carry on the pursuit."
"But supposing they were not more than a mile away from here," continued Sandy. "We might come upon them in an hour, if only we kept moving. It seems foolish to stop just because we are a little tired."
Bob knew that the poor fellow was so stiff he could hardly get up, once he lay upon the ground; but the spirit was willing, if the flesh proved weak, and Sandy would have gone on if he had to crawl.
"If they have halted they would not sleep without a sentry," said Bob.
"That is true, I suppose," admitted the other, grudgingly. "All Indians are careful not to be taken by surprise. Yes, they would be on their guard; but what of that, Bob? Surely, with Blue Jacket to help us, we could creep up close without any one being the wiser."
"You forget," said Bob, "that we could never follow the trail without a light; and those sharp eyes of the sentry would discover our torch long before we knew they were near. Then we would be made a target for a shower of bullets, and perhaps poisoned arrows."
Sandy was utterly disheartened. This sort of argument seemed unanswerable. He just gave a disgusted grunt, rolled over on the ground, and not another word did he speak during the entire balance of that long night.
Bob knew that sleep had finally overtaken his brother, for he could hear his regular breathing after a time. And he was glad of the fact, for both, of them stood much in need of rest before they would be in condition to take up the chase once more.
Morning found them awake, and ready to make a fresh start just as soon as the daylight proved strong enough for the Indian to see the trail. Bob was only too willing to turn over the lead to Blue Jacket, knowing that, while he, himself, might serve fairly well, he was not at all in the same class as the trained young Shawanee, accustomed to reading every tiny sign that marked the tracks of the red fugitives.
Once again they chewed some of the dried venison, washing the crude meat down with a draught from a near-by brook. Refreshed after their sleep, the two boys declared themselves to be in good condition, and ready to make a day of it, if need be.
More than once Bob noticed that the Indian cast an apprehensive glance upward. Sandy, too, saw this action, and took the first opportunity to question his brother as to what it might signify.
"Why does he turn his eyes up to the tops of the trees every little while?" he said in an aside to his brother, as the two of them trailed after Blue Jacket.
"The sun rose red this morning, you may have noticed?" replied Bob.
"Yes, that is true, for I saw it myself," Sandy went on.
"And that stands for rain, all woodsmen believe."
Every rover of the big timber in those days put the utmost faith in such signs. If they saw the sun set in a sea of angry gold they would make ready for bad weather, just as surely as they believed the north lay close to the direction where the moss grew heaviest on those forest trees.
"But we have no fear of the rain," declared Sandy, impatiently; "let it come, for a wetting can't stop us from following Black Beaver day in and day out till we overtake him."
"Still, if the trail is washed out, how then are we to follow?" asked Bob, with a frown on his face.
"Oh! what a fool I was not to understand what you meant," said the younger boy, now looking up toward the heavens quite as anxiously as their dusky guide had done.
"We can only hope that it will keep off long enough to let us come up with the redskins," said Bob, thinking to buoy up his brother's sinking spirits.
"Or that Pat O'Mara may be able to overtake the thieves, and rescue our sister," Sandy observed.
Then they fell into silence again, each busy with his own painful thoughts. All the time Blue Jacket was leading them on at a sort of dog-trot. His eyes followed the trail in a manner simply marvellous; and Bob again and again felt a sense of delight because good fortune had sent this red friend across their path just when they needed assistance most.
Hours passed, and they had covered many miles. Still, upon being questioned by the nervous Sandy, the Shawanee brave could not say that they were any nearer the little band they sought than when they had started, that morning.
How long this pursuit would keep up, who could say? Day might follow day, without their gaining any perceptible advantage. As a last resort, of course, they could make direct for the big water to the north, and seek the village from which Black Beaver had come. But that would mean disheartening delay, with accumulated difficulties about effecting the rescue of their sister.
Nor was this day fated to entirely pass without something occurring to thrill both young pioneers, and prove once more the truth of Pat O'Mara's words when he warned them of the constant need of watchfulness when abroad in the forest.
Blue Jacket in the advance was swiftly covering the trail, for he had heard a distant growl of thunder, and did not fancy what was coming. With his head bowed in earnest examination of the tracks left by those who had gone before, he could hardly be expected to see what lay ahead of him, leaving that for his comrades.
"Oh! Bob, look there!" Sandy suddenly exclaimed, as he raised his musket; "a panther just crouching to leap on our guide's shoulders. Shoot him, quick!"
"No shoot! no shoot!" cried Blue Jacket, who seemed to size up the situation instantly; though up to that time he had not even suspected that he was about to be made the object of a savage attack on the part of a panther.
Bob, too, understood the motive that influenced the Shawanee brave to exclaim in this way, as he jerked out his knife and threw himself in an attitude of defence. Should a musket be discharged, there was always a chance that the report might be carried to the ears of the Senecas, if they happened to be within a few miles of the spot.
Few Indians used guns in those days, the vast majority depending still upon the bows and arrows of their race, backed by tomahawks and knives, and sometimes war clubs in time of battle. Hence, they might suspect that pursuers were on their trail, should the boom of a heavily-loaded musket be carried to their ears.
So Bob threw out his hand, and instantly covered the pan of his brother's gun, so that, when the hammer fell, it caught his fingers, and no spark followed. Bob winced under the sharp pain; but he had accomplished his end, and what mattered a trifling cut?
But the panther had not waited all this time to accommodate these intruders in his forest preserves. The boys saw the sheen of his satiny sides as he sprang.
"Oh! he missed!" gasped Sandy; but Bob knew why this was so, for he had seen the agile young Indian jump sideways just at the critical instant, so that, while the aim of the big cat may have been correct, he only alighted upon the ground.
Blue Jacket never wavered, but instantly threw himself upon the gray beast. His keen-pointed knife was raised, and came down once, twice, thrice in less than as many seconds. It was no longer glinting in the sunlight, for after that first descent the steel seemed to be dulled.
Both boys pushed forward, eager to get in a blow that would be of some assistance to this devoted red friend, who counted not his own safety or comfort when a chance arose whereby he could help his paleface comrades.
They had dropped their guns as useless, since they could not be fired. Bob had drawn his knife, while Sandy had a hatchet in his grip; and both circled around, looking for an opening.
The Indian and the panther were revolving so fast, however, that it seemed well nigh impossible for any outsider to get in a blow, without running grave chances of seriously injuring the very one they wanted to assist.
And, while they thus made half-hearted blows, fearful lest they strike their good ally, Blue Jacket suddenly sprang aside, leaving the animal struggling on the ground. In vain it attempted to follow its human adversary. The ready knife of the stalwart young Shawanee had struck in too deeply, and already was the panther feeling the throes of approaching death.
Even as the boys gazed, spellbound, the animal stiffened out, after one last violent movement. Blue Jacket was breathing very hard; but upon his set face they could see the look that comes to a victor in a well-fought battle.
"Are you hurt much, Blue Jacket?" asked Sandy, fearful lest those terrible claws might have torn the young Shawanee.
The other glanced down at a few places where the blood had commenced to show, as marking the scratches he had received; then he shook his head scornfully.
"Not much hurt," he announced. "Panther hard kill—fight back—take many times finish," and he opened the fingers of both hands to illustrate how many strokes he had made with that knife before he felt that he had accomplished his purpose.
"But why didn't you let me shoot him?" demanded Sandy, as though feeling hurt, because at that short distance he knew one shot would have surely finished the "woods terror," as such beasts were known at the time.
"Make noise—tell Iroquois we here—no good, see, Sandy?" was the way Blue Jacket put it; and Sandy immediately realized how great a sacrifice the other had just made in order to keep their presence on the trail unknown to those they hunted.
He looked at his brother, and drew a long breath.
"Where could we have found a better friend, Bob?" he said, earnestly.
"We must have looked a long way, Sandy," returned the other. "But let me put a little salve my mother made on those cuts, Blue Jacket. There is poison in the claws of a tiger cat, and you may have a bad time, unless we look out for it."
"Ugh!" grunted the Indian, even while he allowed Bob to do as he wished. "Much papoose, warriors think. No care 'bout hurt. Get well, bimeby. Blue Jacket come 'cross medicine grass soon, chew and put on cut, good. If white squaw make, then try. Ugh!"
Anything Mrs. Armstrong did was all right in the eyes of the young Shawanee brave. He had watched her, and learned to respect the gentle woman who ruled the Armstrong cabin with a sceptre of love.
Leaving the dead panther where it had fallen, the three pressed onward again. If, during the balance of that weary day, the limbs of Blue Jacket ached, no one ever knew it, for not a single complaint or groan passed his lips. Bob realized that he in all probability suffered, for some of the scratches had been pretty deep; but he also understood the singular nature of Indians, and how it was considered childish to show any evidence of pain.
Night came on, and they were forced to halt, with those they hunted still far ahead. How the Iroquois managed to travel so far and so fast puzzled both boys, especially since they knew that Kate could not have possibly kept up under that fierce strain.
Blue Jacket told them that there were occasions when the footprints of the girl utterly vanished for a mile or more. At such times he would even point out which of the four Indians must be carrying her, because the indentation of his moccasins showed deeper than those of his companions.
And the boys were astonished at the simplicity of this reading of signs. Every hour they found something new to marvel over in connection with the work of their dusky friend. He pointed out twigs that had been bent and righted; to leaves that had been displaced by the feet of the fugitives; and by such means easily figured just how long a time had elapsed since the others had passed.
They started again at daybreak and, all the morning, followed the trail of the Iroquois.
The storm, that had threatened on the previous day and then passed by without a single drop falling, now came back for a second attempt. And this time they were not fated to escape.
"We are in for it," said Bob, when about noon the crash of thunder sounded close at hand, accompanied by vivid lightning.
"Yes," declared Sandy, making a rueful face, "I think I can hear the rain beating down in the treetops even now, over there. What a pity, when we were gradually overtaking the red thieves. Oh! what if we lose them, and have nothing left to follow? What can we do then, Bob?"
"Just what I said before," replied his brother, between his set teeth, as still another crash of thunder made the woods echo with its roll. "We have only one plan to follow, then. Blue Jacket is of the same opinion; for I talked it over with him this morning. We must push straight on for the Great Lakes, and try to waylay the party before they reach their village."
"A desperate chance," groaned Sandy.
"But we said we would never give up until the last gasp, Sandy. You forget, too, that we have a good and wise friend at work for us," Bob went on, cheerfully.
"You mean Pat O'Mara?" replied the other, quickly. "Yes, I did forget. I am too apt to be hasty, I fear. Oh! I do hope he may be able to snatch Kate from the power of the young chief, Black Beaver. But why should he have stolen her at all? Kate is only a child, too young for any one to want to have for a squaw."
"I have been thinking about something Blue Jacket told me," said Bob.
"Then please let me know, too, for I am all in a mix," pleaded his brother.
"He said that he knew Black Beaver had only a short time ago lost a little sister by some disease. He told me that the old squaw, his mother, sat day by day out where the child was laid away, after the custom of the Indians, the body being sewed up in many thicknesses of buffalo skins, and placed on a platform, where the wolves could not reach her."
"Yes, I saw an Indian graveyard when I was a prisoner among the Shawanees, and it was just as you say," declared Sandy, eagerly. "I know that daily the squaws come to talk with the spirits of those who are gone. I saw them placing earthen bowls of succotash on the ground, believing that the steam that arose was spirit food, since it vanished, and no one knew where it went." (Note 5.)
"Blue Jacket said that Black Beaver cared much more for his sister than most Indians do," Bob continued, between the angry growlings of the thunder; "and that he feared the old squaw would lose her mind if she kept on mourning. Now, you remember how he looked at our sister Kate when he came in for a supply of tobacco and maize? I really believe he had a sudden idea flash into his mind when he saw how pretty she was."
"Now I understand what you mean," cried Sandy, excitedly. "He believed that our Kate might take the place of the sister that was dead! They would color her skin, and teach her to forget that her people were the hated palefaces. Bob, I believe you are right; and somehow the thought gives me much comfort, for then our little Kate will not suffer harm at the hands of Black Beaver and those with him."
There was no time for further conversation, for the storm now rushed down upon them with terrific violence. With the howling wind, the flash of lightning, and the crash of thunder came a tremendous downpour of rain. It was possibly the breaking up of summer, and might be followed shortly by frost, such are the rapid changes that mark the meeting of the seasons.
They had found a means for sheltering themselves from the worst of the storm. A hollow tree might have answered fully as well; but, with those frequent zigzag flashes of the deadly electric fluid, none of them felt like taking such desperate chances, especially when a cleft in some rocks opened an avenue of escape.
Here they cowered and waited as the storm rolled over. Bob knew of course that such a thing as trailing the Senecas after this was entirely out of the question; and that the only thing remaining to them was to strike out north, in the hope of finding the village to which Black Beaver belonged, and intercepting the party.
That would mean the placing of some hundreds of miles between themselves and the dearly-beloved cabin on the Ohio, where that little mother waited in daily hope and expectation of their return, with the lost Kate; but, for themselves these brave boys gave little thought. They were ready to face every species of peril in the endeavor to rescue their sister.
When the wind had ceased to howl, and only the mutter of the retreating thunder in the distance told that the storm was over, they came forth, grim and determined-looking, all three.
Sandy tightened his belt; and there even was something suggestive of what was in his mind about that little action. It looked as though he were preparing for the tremendous tramp that loomed up ahead, when they must cross rivers, thread their way through tangled forests where few if any of their kind had ever before stepped; and face all manner of dangers by day and by night.
Blue Jacket never even asked what they would have him do; for he already knew the plan of campaign. Deliberately he turned, until the western sun, shining out from the broken clouds like a ball of gold, was exactly on his left. Then he started to swiftly walk away.
No longer did the young brave look down upon the ground as he moved along. There existed no need for such a thing, since the trail had been utterly washed out by that deluge of rain. Henceforth the trackless wilderness lay before them, and at the other end they hoped to find the village in which Black Beaver had his wigwam.
Even upon the face of Sandy had come a grim look that seemed out of place in the features of a half-grown lad; but in those pioneer days responsibility set its mark early on the growing generation, and even a lad of fifteen could shoulder the cares and burdens of manhood.
Days would come, and days would pass, and night must follow night. Sometimes sun and stars would beckon them onward; again perhaps storms would buffet these bold adventurers; but through it all they would push resolutely onward, with but that one impulse urging them on, the rescue of Kate.
What the near future held for them no mortal could say; but, no matter what lay beyond, Bob and Sandy would press on toward the goal, though they had to face the whole of the Six Nations, or the confederated tribes Pontiac had bound together in his wild hope for a general Indian war.
"Will we ever get there, do you think, Bob?"
Sandy Armstrong asked this question for the tenth time one day, as the trio of young adventurers rested at noon, after tramping since early dawn.
They had persisted in heading into the north ever since the day of the storm. Weary days and nights they had been. Sandy, being less resolute than his older brother, had fretted under the strain, and kept asking whether they must not be near the end of their pilgrimage.
They had met many trials on the way. Rivers they had swam, holding their guns and ammunition, as well as their garments, on a log so as to keep them dry, which trick was in frequent use among the pioneers of the day.
It was the duty of Bob to constantly strengthen his brother; and thus he even smiled, a bit sadly it may be true, as he turned upon Sandy.
"Blue Jacket knows; and he tells me that he can smell the big water in the air right now," he observed.
"You mean the Great Lake, on the shore of which, somewhere, the Iroquois have their village—is that it?" demanded Sandy, brightening up wonderfully.
"Yes, and he also tells me that we are apt to come out upon it before the sun goes down to-night," Bob continued, encouragingly.
"Well," said Sandy, heaving a big sigh, "I shall be glad if it turns out to be so. I am so tired of waiting, day after day, and plunging into constant forests. If it wasn't for Kate's peril I could enjoy this journey, for you know I always said I meant to follow in the footsteps of Kenton, and look on new sights; but, as it is, I can think of nothing but these three things that trouble us."
"Three?" remarked Bob, as if surprised.
"Why, yes. There is Kate, to begin with," Sandy started to say.
"And you are also thinking of our mother, should the dreaded Indian attack come when we are away?" Bob pursued.
"Surely. There were many ugly signs of it. But, when I remember how our neighbor, Mr. Brewster, gave us his word that he would take her into his own family while we were gone, and look after her as if she belonged under his cabin roof, somehow I do not feel quite so bad."
"But you said three, and that is only two causes," Bob went on. "Are you still thinking about father, Sandy?"
"Surely," the younger brother answered back. "The more we plunge into this unbroken wilderness the greater become my fears for him. There were only four in the party. If the Indians ever discovered their trail, they would follow them like hungry wolves. Day and night they might hang about, seeking opportunities to ambush them. Oh! why did not Colonel Boone, or Simon Kenton, happen along at the time they were starting?"
"Cheer up!" cried Bob, slapping his brother on the shoulder encouragingly. "We shall be happy yet, and all together again, separated as we may be now. Our first duty is to find Kate, and steal her away from our enemies. Then, when we get home, we will only have to wait for our father to return, after the snow flies. I only hope he is able to cross those terrible mountains before the ravines are filled, neck high, with the drifts."
"But," said Sandy, suddenly, as if he suspected that these signs of despondency might be wrongly interpreted by his companion, "I hope you do not think I am weakening, Bob?"
"Not I," returned the older one, instantly. "By this time I ought to know your obstinate nature better than that, Sandy. You may complain, and seem downhearted at times; but there is no give up about you."
"That is true," nodded Sandy, as he set his teeth hard together. "We started out to rescue our sister from the hands of the Indians; and that we will do, if we live. But, Bob, have we not rested enough? I am just wild to set eyes on that wonderful inland sea about which Pat O'Mara and Simon Kenton have told us so much."
"Yes, we will go on," said Bob, quickly rising to his feet; and then, as Blue Jacket drew near, he asked further: "About how many hours' journey before we come upon the big water, Blue Jacket?"
Whereupon the young Shawanee brave deliberated a minute, after which he gravely held up two fingers of his right hand.
"Soon get there, Bob, Sandy," he said, quietly. "No can smell big water further two hours' walk. You wait, see Blue Jacket speak with straight tongue."
"And he ought to know, Sandy," continued Bob; "because, you see, Blue Jacket has once before looked on the big water which some men call Erie. Only a short two hours; that will soon pass. Come, let us put out our best foot now."
Once again they plunged into the thickets ahead, always with the Indian guide in the van. Blue Jacket had indeed proven a friend. Not only had he led them in almost direct line to the north, and managed to avoid contact with any roving band of Indians; but at the same time he had helped supply the little rescue party with fresh meat.
It happened that at the time he met the two young pioneers the brave carried his customary bow and arrows. Few of his race equalled Blue Jacket in the use of this old-time Indian weapon. He could send a feathered shaft with wonderful accuracy, whether aimed at a human foe or a wild animal of the forest.
Debarred from using their noisy guns on account of the dangers that an explosion might bring upon them, the boys would have suffered from lack of fresh food but for the dexterity with which their dusky ally used his hickory bow, with its flint-tipped arrows, feathered with quills from the wild goose.
Once he brought down a bounding deer that seemed in a fair way to escape, much to the admiration of both white lads, who had never before witnessed such an exhibition of fine shooting.
On another occasion he had discovered several wild turkeys roosting on the branch of a big pine tree on a knoll, and, after considerable creeping, managed to get close enough, on the leeward side of the wary birds, to bring a haughty gobbler to the ground, pierced through and through with an arrow, so that they feasted that night right royally.
Then Blue Jacket also knew just how to build a fire with very dry wood that might not give forth any smoke, such as keen and suspicious eyes would discover. It was always started in a cleft, or a hole in the ground, nor did they ever keep it going after night set in.
All these precautions were absolutely necessary, for they were in a hostile country, where every human being must be considered an enemy, whether he might be a red man or a French Canadian trapper.
The summer was now gone. Touches of frost appeared each morning, now that the pilgrims of the great forest ascended continually further north. But they were young, hardy and vigorous, so that little they cared for this. The thought of the mission that drew them thus far away from their Ohio River home proved sufficient to make their pulses throb, and all minor troubles be ignored.
An hour passed. Blue Jacket plodded on, showing not the faintest sign of weariness. Indeed, it seemed to Sandy that the young Shawanee brave must be made of iron to be able to stand up under all they had passed through without exhibiting the least symptom of fatigue.
Even the brothers by now seemed to feel a peculiar dampness to the air, that in a way betrayed the near presence of a large body of water.
"At any time, Sandy, you can expect to set eyes on the Great Lake," remarked Bob, while they were pushing through an unusually dense patch of woods, where the close growing trees ahead shut out all sign of what lay beyond.
Blue Jacket heard, and gave him a nod that seemed to tell Bob they might have their first view of that wonderful inland sea before many minutes passed.
A short time later they came upon the verge of the forest. All at once a vacancy appeared beyond, a vast open expanse, and Bob had himself caught a musical ripple that he knew must proceed from waves gently rolling up the beach.
The Great Lake was before them, and, standing thus among the bordering trees, the three gazed wonderingly out upon that mighty expanse.
Although they had lived for a number of years in Richmond, both Bob and Sandy had only a hazy recollection of ever having seen the vast ocean so close by; so that this, their first introduction to what seemed a boundless expanse of water, was startling.
As far as their eyes could reach nothing but a level horizon seemed to exist, where the water met the lowering sky line. To the east and west the same monotonous view was presented. To-day, where dark smoke from the funnels of countless busy steamers may greet the eye of the onlooker, there was at that time absolutely nothing, not even a canoe, at first appearing to the sight of the three youths.
"Oh!" exclaimed Sandy, his breast heaving with the sensation of a rover who delights in new and novel sights, "it is glorious, Bob! If I could only forget about Kate for a minute, I'd say it was well worth all our trials and suffering. One of my dreams has come true, and some day I am determined that the other will, too."
"Yes," replied his brother, soberly; "I know that you are fairly wild to set eyes on that wonderful river De Soto discovered, and which they call the Mississippi. Perhaps some day you may have your wish, Sandy; but pray Heaven that no such mission takes you to its shores as has fetched us hither."
"That could never be," replied Sandy. "If we are blessed with the recovery of our dear sister this time, she will never again be allowed to leave the sight of those who can and will protect her. But, see, Blue Jacket has noticed something. He moves back into the woods, and beckons to us to do the same. What can it be, do you suppose, Bob?"
"He seems to be watching the point of land that stands out into the water," said Bob. "It has trees on it; but there are open spaces, too. Blue Jacket must have discovered something moving there."
"Perhaps it is a deer, and he means to get a shot with his bow and arrows?" suggested the younger brother.
"Not so, for he is not handling his bow," remarked Bob; and immediately added: "There! I saw it move myself; and, Sandy, unless I was mistaken, it must have been a canoe gliding along the other side of the tongue of land, heading outward."
Both lads immediately stepped further back among the trees. They understood that the chances were ten to one, at least, that, if they came upon any human being along the shore of the Great Lake, it must be an Indian, and therefore one to be distrusted on sight.
Though the Iroquois, or Six Nations, had always been friendly with the English, and opposed to the French Canadian trappers and traders, still, the new conditions that were beginning to arise, where the Colonies had begun to defy the king, made them separate the sheep from the goats. They favored the Tories, who remained in league with the king's policies; but were ready to take up arms against the insurgents, already beginning to call themselves Americans.
Three minutes later a canoe darted out from behind the point of land, and started along the lake, about a quarter of a mile from the shore.
"Oh! look!" said Sandy, who had the keener eyesight; "there are just five in it, Bob, and one of them is a girl!"
"Yes," replied the other, whose lips were colorless as he gazed eagerly at the moving craft, where several flashing paddles were working industriously; "just the same number as Black Beaver's band. But, Sandy, we do not know. To me it looks as if the girl might be a squaw. She is surely dressed like one, and, as well as I can see, her face seems to be that of an Indian."
"Oh! but you forget, Bob," declared the other lad, earnestly, "that we believe Black Beaver means to make our sister into a Seneca girl. Four braves and a girl—it must be those we seek!"
"Even Blue Jacket is puzzled, if I read his face rightly," said Bob. "And so all we can do is to try and keep up with the canoe until it comes ashore. Then we will soon learn the truth. I only pray that what you think may turn out to be so, for it would make our mission the easier."