"They must land soon," said Sandy, when they had been trying to keep up with the canoe for a long time, though without brilliant success, for it was far ahead of the three scouts, possibly a couple of miles.
"Yes," Bob made answer; "for the day is near an end, and they will wish to camp. There, see, they have at last headed toward the shore. We must make sure to note where the boat lands, so that we can take up the trail if they plunge into the forest."
A short time later and they had seen the canoe pushed up on the sandy beach. After the customary manner of the red men, it was immediately picked up and carried away, doubtless to be secreted among the bushes, either until morning or until some future occasion when its services would be needed.
"Now what is our next move?" asked Sandy.
"Keep straight along until we are within striking distance of the spot. But let us seek advice from Blue Jacket. He will know what is best," was Bob's answer.
To their surprise the Shawanee brave decided that it would be just as well for them to remain where they were, and rest an hour or more. When darkness had fallen they could step out on the open beach, and make as good time as though they struggled along all the while through the dense underbrush of the woods.
So they lay down and waited, meanwhile munching a little food in order to sustain them through whatever might befall them that night.
Finally Blue Jacket arose, and spoke a few low words. Both brothers were immediately on their feet, eager to be moving. And, after their days of fighting with the rough country over which their long journey had taken them, it was certainly something of a relief to be able to stride over the sandy stretch of beach.
Presently Sandy uttered a low cry:
"A canoe! Why cannot we use that?"
Bob did not reply, but looked questioning at Blue Jacket. The Indian nodded, and soon the three had entered a long canoe that rested on the beach and contained two broad paddles. The two boys took the paddles, and presently the craft was moving silently and swiftly over the placid waters of Lake Erie.
"Not too far from shore. No can see other canoe if go too far," cautioned the Indian.
He stood in the bow of the canoe, his eyes on the alert for the first sign of the other craft. Thus over a mile was covered when the Indian gave a sign to turn back to the beach.
Just as the Shawanee had promised, they arrived in the neighborhood of the landing place of the canoe about as soon as if they had kept diligently pushing forward through the forest, with its various pitfalls, ravines and thickets.
Bob was eagerly waiting for the verdict which he knew must soon fall from the lips of Blue Jacket. He saw the young Indian craning his neck in order to take in all the surroundings, although his attention was of course directed more toward the depths of the woods than out upon the heaving lake.
Then Blue Jacket's hand fell upon the arm of Bob.
"Ugh! look, it is well! They camp!" he grunted.
And Bob, following the line of the other's extended arm, saw the glimmer of a fire almost hidden in the dense forest.
"We shall soon know now, Sandy," he observed, cheerfully. "Blue Jacket means to creep forward, and get close enough to the camp to learn whether these are they we have sought, or if we have to go on further."
"But he has already told us he could see that the braves were Senecas, from the feathers in their scalplocks, and their manner of dress?" declared Sandy.
"That is true," Bob replied, softly; "but let us drop down here, and wait for him to return. He cannot be long."
The Shawanee glided away as silently as a shadow, leaving Bob and Sandy at the point where a clump of silver birches would guide him again to their hiding place.
"What if he comes to tell us it is Our Kate?" demanded the younger brother.
"Then we can have but one duty, and that is to wrest her away from those who would try to hold her," came the steady reply.
"They will resist," remarked Sandy.
"It will not be well for them if they do," said his companion, with that stern look upon his face, as seen in the starlight, that always reminded Sandy of their father.
The minutes fairly dragged along. Sandy tried to count so as to have something to occupy his mind and keep him quiet; but he found it impossible to keep from thinking of that dear little sister whom they had come so far to save.
Then, without the slightest warning, Blue Jacket stood beside them, grave, and with folded arms. Bob guessed the truth instantly from the manner of their red ally, for, had the other any good news to declare, he must have shown it. Sandy was not so ready a reader of human nature, and immediately exclaimed in a whisper:
"What success did you have, Blue Jacket? Is it our sister, and those braves the Senecas who stole her away from our mother's cabin?"
"No Black Beaver, no paleface girl. Seneca braves, and young squaw, that all!" replied the spy, stolidly.
Of course the sanguine Sandy was terribly disappointed; so much so that he allowed a groan to break from his lips. After which once more his resolution took a firm grip upon him.
"Then we must forget all about this, and push on to find the village where Black Beaver, the thief, has his lodge. It keeps getting harder and harder; but nothing is going to stop us, is it, Bob?" he declared, grimly.
"Nothing!" echoed the older brother, as he pressed Sandy's hand.
They lay down, almost exhausted, and sought to secure the rest of which they were so sorely in need. With the coming of another day they watched until the little party once more launched their canoe, and started paddling off toward the east.
To Bob this was a mere incident that interested him but little. Blue Jacket on the other hand saw a deep significance in the move. He knew it very probably indicated that the village to which these Indians belonged was located somewhere toward the east, or they would hardly be going in the direction of the rising sun, and that was a most important point for them to know, now that the big water blocked their further travel to the north.
Through the entire day they moved steadily along, at first in the canoe they had found, and then, abandoning the canoe, they continued on foot. But conditions had commenced to assume a different aspect. Three separate times during this day Blue Jacket's amazing power of observation, or intuition, had saved them from running into danger. The woods seemed to be full of parties of Indians, either hunting, or heading toward some central point, where possibly they expected to hold a grand powwow or "palaver," as a council was called by the bordermen.
Upon questioning Blue Jacket, after they had hidden themselves, and watched fully a dozen blanketed figures pass in Indian file, silent and mysterious, Bob was not much surprised to learn that it was the opinion of their red guide that these warriors could not be out on a hunt, else they would never have kept together in the way they did.
Other signs, which the quick eye of the Shawanee could catch, told him that it was no foray in search of fresh meat that took these dusky sons of the forest abroad.
"Pottawottomies," Blue Jacket had muttered. "Come from setting sun, up by other big water, Detroit way. Something doing, Bob, Sandy. No travel so far not so. Mebbe we learn same soon. Much war drum sound. Heap trouble for paleface settlers along Ohio. Ugh!"
"He says those Indians were Pottawottomies, Bob," whispered Sandy. "I wonder now if that firebrand, Pontiac, is up in this region? Perhaps we may even set eyes on him before we start for home."
"Well, as for me," remarked his brother, "I'd take little pleasure in doing that; for he has an evil name among the settlements. Many border posts have gone up in flame and smoke because of Pontiac, and the renegades that follow him, warring upon their kind. According to my mind it would be a blessed day for pioneers everywhere if a bullet could be sent to lay the monster low."
Little did either of them suspect, while thus talking, how soon they were to be granted a most wonderful opportunity for seeing the notorious sachem, whose name had for years thrilled the hearts of a multitude of mothers, as they sheltered their children in their arms, and listened to the sounds of the mysterious forest, peopled with cruel and crafty red foes.
All through this day the three continued to head toward the land where the terrible waters fell from the lofty rocks with a roar that was deafening. To the superstitious Indians, Niagara's mighty and unceasing clamor was the voice of the Great Spirit. Their medicine men claimed to be able to interpret what messages were being sent from the Happy Hunting Grounds for the guidance of the Great Spirit's favorite children with the redskins. And for centuries, doubtless, had the cataract also been the scene of sacrifices, when beautiful maidens were sent over its brink to appease an angry Manitou.
"Why, the woods are full of them," said Sandy, when, just before dusk, they were again compelled to hide in order to let a file of solemn warriors pass by.
Bob was more than uneasy. He saw readily enough that, if what Blue Jacket suspected turned out to be the truth, and that a grand council was about to be held at which representatives of many tribes would appear, it made their mission all the more difficult of accomplishment.
Even though they succeeded in rescuing little Kate, once the alarm was given how could they ever expect to elude the scores upon scores of painted savages with whom the woods would quickly be filled?
"Perhaps it may mean more delay for us, Sandy," he had said.
"You make me groan when you say that, Bob," the other had replied.
"Our only hope," Bob pursued, firmly, "must be to make a successful flight when we have swooped down on the wigwam of Black Beaver, and snatched our sister from the possession of the Iroquois. And, while the forest is fairly alive with enemies, what chance would we have for getting clear?"
"Yes, I know you must be right, Bob, just as you always are," Sandy muttered. "But how can we ever stand it?"
"Hist! Blue Jacket is holding up a warning finger again. He must smell more of the Indians coming somewhere. Lie down, Sandy, and don't even whisper till he gives the word."
Long before now Sandy had declared that it was his positive belief that their dusky guide must be able to scent the presence of Indians, because he always gave them warning so far in advance of the actual appearance of the prowlers; but Bob knew that it was from his wonderful sense of hearing that Blue Jacket thus forestalled the appearance of the Indians on their dog-trot journey; that he could catch the faintest sound, just as the long-eared rabbit might, or the timid mink that they sought to trap for his valuable pelt.
Once more they were moving now, and it seemed to Bob that Blue Jacket must have some definite object ahead, for otherwise he certainly would not persist in pushing onward after the shades of night had fallen.
Presently he came to a stop. They were under a mighty oak tree, one of the widest spreading Bob had ever set eyes on. He saw Blue Jacket looking upward eagerly, as though interested in those great gnarled limbs that seemed to shut out the very stars of the heavens.
"Climb far up, Bob, Sandy," breathed the voice of the red guide, as he himself started to set the example.
Wonderingly the two brothers obeyed. Neither of them could just then give the slightest guess as to why Blue Jacket wished them to climb the tree. Even though the woods did seem to be full of moving red men, and the risk of discovery constant, it would appear that they might have readily found some dense thicket into which they could have crawled, and thus remain undiscovered by the enemy.
But, by this time, both of the young pioneers had come to understand that Blue Jacket never made a move without a good reason; and Bob, in particular, felt positive that presently they would learn the meaning of this queer action.
Not until he had mounted far into the dense branches of the great oak did the young Shawanee brave halt.
"Now, sit like rock—no move—see soon what happen!" whispered the red guide, as they came to a halt.
A short time passed away. Bob was listening intently. Dimly a suspicion as to the truth was beginning to filter through his brain. He wished to verify it, and it was for this reason that he strained his ears to the limit.
Then from underneath something came to him. Sandy, too, must have heard it, for his lips sought the ear of his brother, and he whispered as softly as the sigh of the night breeze through the topmost branches of the great oak:
"Indians below!"
Knowing the folly of trying to enter into any sort of talk at such a time, Bob only pinched the arm of his more reckless brother. And Sandy understood what that signified; he was to say not another word.
Other sounds reached them. Bob caught the well-known click of flint and steel, and knew that a fire was about to be started. Presently sparks flashed and then the tinder caught, so that a little flame darted up.
As this was carefully fed by a practised hand it grew in volume, until the darkness that had rested under the thick branches of the great oak began to be dissipated.
By degrees Bob could make out the figures of several Indians. He stared as if unable to believe his eyes, for every one of them seemed to have vied with the others in assuming a grotesque dress. Several wore horns, and all of them had their faces hidden behind masks, usually the heads of some animal.
The first represented a wolf, one of those gaunt timber pirates that could easily pull a stag to earth; another had on a buffalo head; while a third seemed to represent a panther. Their garments were elaborately fashioned, and their persons decked with all manner of tinkling bits of metal, and colored porcupine quills. Not a movement did they make after once throwing off their reserve but that Bob was reminded of a necromancer he had once seen a very long time ago, in a playhouse in Richmond, to which his father took him at Christmas time.
He knew what these strange personages were as soon as his eyes beheld their remarkable attire and actions. Up to now Bob had never really set eyes on a real medicine man, though Sandy claimed to have done so at the time he was a prisoner in the Shawanee village.
But why half a dozen of them; and what sort of business had brought them here to this tree, that must be a land mark in the neighborhood? Did Blue Jacket know? He claimed to have been in this vicinity before; then perhaps he was acquainted with the very tree, in the branches of which they perched at that minute.
Still watching, Bob saw that the queer men below were carrying on in a strange way as they fed the flames, and kept building up the fire. They went through all manner of gestures, flinging their arms wildly aloft, dancing as they circled the flames, throwing some sort of powder into the fire that for the moment cast a blood red and terrible glow upon everything around; and anon even taking hold of hands to engage in a wild orgy around the blaze.
By slow degrees he began to realize that these seven medicine men must belong to just as many different tribes. It was as though they had been sent here ahead in order to start the sacred fire at which, later on, the heads of those same clans would gather in solemn conclave!
Did it mean that the idle wish of Sandy was to be thus quickly fulfilled? Had Blue Jacket in some way heard what was said, or guessed it; and was he now bent on giving them a chance to hear the coming council, when representatives of many nations would come to meet those of the Iroquois, and try to wean them away from their allegiance to the English?
The thought thrilled the young pioneer. He did not know whether to be glad or fearful because it was so. It would, of course, be a wonderful thing for them to see this council which must go down in history; to perhaps look upon the great Pontiac, as well as the head chiefs connected with many powerful tribes, such as the Sacs, the Foxes, the Senecas, the Onondagas, the Mohawks and the war-like Delawares. But what if, through some little misfortune, they were discovered?
While Bob was giving way to these thoughts he saw that the queer dance below had come to an end. The strangely garbed medicine men vanished from view, and other Indians began to troop in to gather about the fire.
By dozens and scores they came from every quarter. Bob could hardly believe he was not dreaming, for the great space below began to be fairly packed with Indians. Some stalked around in their skin blankets, while others were naked down to the waist.
These latter were the wild Ojibways, with quivers slung at their backs, and light war clubs resting in the hollow of their arms. There were Ottawas wrapped close in gaudy blankets, and Wyandots fluttering in painted shirts, their heads adorned with colored feathers, and their leggins garnished with shining metal discs that often chimed like silver bells.
He knew that he was undoubtedly looking upon the most noted chiefs west of the mountains. Some of these must be men who had led in the wars of the last few years, where scores and hundreds of lives had been lost.
Afterwards he learned from Blue Jacket that the Shawanee sachem Silver Heels was present, as well as Sagan the Cuyuga chieftain, later on the terror of the settlers; and that the young fellow who dressed much like a white man was really Joseph Brant, the adopted son of Sir William Johnson, and later renowned as Thayendanega, the Mohawk scourge of the American settlements; while others were Turtle Heart, old Bald Eagle, and Longboat of the Delawares.
Now the assembled Indians began to seat themselves cross-legged around the council fire. It was easy to believe that the inner circle must be made up of those in whose hands lay the most power. Nor were they all Indians. Here and there among the motley throng the watchers above had glimpsed a white man, usually a French Canadian trapper or trader. These men's sympathies were all with the war Pontiac was waging upon the venturesome English, who had pushed their outposts so far in the direction of the Mississippi.
Bob started when he recognized two familiar faces among those below; these were no other than Armand Lecroix, the leader of the men with whom the Armstrong boys had quarrelled at the time the dispute arose concerning the ownership of the game; and another fellow equally as brutal in his ways, Jacques Larue, with whom Bob and Sandy had had trouble in the past.
It was not surprise at seeing these men here among the hostile Indians that gave Bob that chilly feeling. He was only thinking how pleased the French trappers would be if they discovered how the grand council was being spied upon, and who the unfortunates in the tree-top proved to be.
Looking closer, Bob felt positive he could recognize Pontiac. The most notorious Indian of history, whose one dream it had ever been to unite the many tribes into a confederacy, and then sweep the hated palefaces back into the ocean from which they had sprung, was a notable figure.
His manner was commanding, and even his garb bespoke the kingly role he had taken upon himself. He was not above middle height, though his figure was commanding. His complexion was darker than is usual with his race, and his features had a bold and stern expression, while his bearing was that of a man accustomed to sweeping away all opposition by the force of his imperious will.
Ordinarily Pontiac's attire was that of the primitive savage, girded about the loins, wearing beaded moccasins, and with his long black hair flowing loosely; but, when seated in council, he was wont to appear as Bob and Sandy now gazed in awe upon him, plumed and painted in the full costume of war.
Every eye was fastened upon Pontiac when he spoke, after the pipe had been passed around, and each member of the council had taken a whiff, sending a little puff toward each point of the compass. (Note 6.)
Although the voice of the great sachem reached them easily, neither of the boys could understand what he said, as he made his passionate appeal to the chiefs of the Six Nations and many others assembled there. It was easy however for them to guess that he was artfully appealing to their passions and prejudices, and telling them how, if only all the red tribes would join together, they could once again possess the land that their fathers had owned.
Then others spoke, some apparently in favor of the proposal of the great leader, others counselling caution. Thus time passed until a full hour had gone. The boys had not dared even move all this while, though they felt stiff and sore from so long perching upon the hard limbs. Screened by the leaves that still clung to the branches of the council oak, they had seen one after another get up to give his views upon the subject Pontiac had brought as a message from his powerful tribe that had its home along the border of the other Great Lakes, where Detroit and similar frontier posts held out against the attacks of the allied Indians.
No eye was strong enough to pierce the screen that hid the three spies. Doubtless all of those below found enough to interest them in watching the play of passion, or entreaty, upon the faces of the speakers, without allowing their gaze to roam elsewhere. Most of all would they fail to glance up amid the foliage of the oak, where only a lynx or a wolverine might be expected to lurk, if indeed any living thing could be found there.
Sandy wished with all his heart that it were over. He had seen enough, and was fairly wild to get relief from his cramped position, Pontiac, after all, while possibly a wonderful man, might pall upon one!
There was one event, however, that broke up the monotony of hearing those speeches in a tongue which they could not understand. This happened when the fiery Jacques Larue arose to his feet, and launched into a violent talk in the Indian language, which he seemed to understand as well as though he had been born a red man.
He apparently differed from the line of argument that the great sachem Pontiac had advanced, for he frequently turned toward that individual, and seemed to shake his hand almost threateningly.
Whatever it may have been that stood between them, Bob knew well that it had no concern regarding the scheme to clean out the pioneer settlements along the Great Lakes and the Ohio River. Like all his breed, Larue would have welcomed such a catastrophe, could it be brought about.
Perhaps his suspicions had been aroused, and he believed that this vast plot of Pontiac embraced the French as well as the English—that, after the latter had been wiped out, the red hosts, flushed with victory, were to turn upon their supporters, and finish the French also.
History tells us that Pontiac was suspected of harboring such a scheme, and only accepted the help of the French trappers and traders in order to lull them into a condition of fancied security.
There was a sudden break in the harangue of Jacques Larue when Pontiac, as if stung beyond all control, sprang to his feet and struck the excited French trapper full in the face.
A terrible moment of silence followed. Fully fifty dusky hands sought tomahawks and knives as the assemblage watched to see what the several companions of Larue would do to avenge the open insult. One move would have sealed their death, and those men knew it only too well.
Face to face Pontiac and the French trapper stood, with eye glaring into eye. Then with a contemptuous laugh the chief made a movement with his imperious hand, as if ordering Larue to get out of his sight before he gave the signal for him to be cut to pieces.
There was nothing for it but to obey, since Larue knew only too well that he had few friends among all that assemblage. Not one would dare lift a hand against the dusky idol of the Indian tribes, the silver-tongued and powerful sachem of the Pottawottomies.
He slunk away, and vanished beyond the outer circles; but that last frown which he bent on Pontiac told only too plainly what hatred and bitter venom was hidden in his black heart.
Nor did either of the watching and listening white boys imagine for a moment what a tremendous influence that very dramatic circumstance was fated to have upon their own fortunes. And still it was so.
The great council, held under the famous oak where many such had taken place in the years that were gone, broke up at last. The final speech had been delivered by Pontiac himself; and once more his wonderfully persuading voice seemed to be raised in pleading. The Iroquois chiefs had been divided, as near as Bob could make out, some being in favor of joining the tremendous chain of confederated tribes, while others clung to their well-known allegiance to the English.
Now the immense crowd had begun to melt away. By dozens and scores the Indians took themselves off, each tribe seeming to cling together. Pontiac himself, Bob noticed, seemed to accompany an old and wise-looking chief who, from his dress, he believed must be the famous Delaware sachem, Bald Eagle; and with them, too, was the Seneca chieftain.
In ten minutes not an Indian was to be seen below. The fire had burned down, and was slowly dying out. Sandy would have tried to make a move in order to at least change his position, only that his brother nudged him, and in this way warned the impatient one that they had not yet seen the end of the affair.
Figures were again moving under the sacred council oak tree. Once more did the seven strange figures of the allied medicine men appear, to again exhort the Great Spirit to listen to the appeals that had so recently been spoken. They danced around the dying fire, they chanted in unison, they waved their arms, and rattled hollow gourds that contained hard seeds, until the effect was most awe-inspiring.
Finally, as a fitting wind-up to these queer proceedings that seemed to partake of the savage nature of the Indian, each of them tossed a handful of powder in the embers of the fire. For the second time that red flame arose, to bathe the entire vicinity in its fierce glow, and to avoid which the watchers aloft had need to close their aching eyes.
When they opened them again the seven medicine men had vanished, gliding away as silently as ghosts. Only the dying fire lay below to tell them of the wonderful experience which they had just passed through, thanks to the sagacity and daring of their faithful guide, Blue Jacket.
There was no further use trying to restrain Sandy. He saw that the coast below was clear, and felt that no Indian would dare profane the sacred meeting-place after the medicine men had thus consecrated it anew.
Nor did Blue Jacket attempt to stop him. They certainly could not remain where they were; and, since the Seneca village could not be a great distance off, it might be well for them to try to find it.
As Bob knew, it was the intention of their dusky friend to enter, when they had discovered the wigwams of the tribe to which the abductor of little Kate belonged. He could play the part of a messenger from the south, sent to learn more about the plans of Pontiac, so that the ever hostile Shawanees might be able to work in common with the rest of the tribes.
Once within the borders of the big village it would be easy for Blue Jacket to discover whether Black Beaver had returned, and, if so, what manner of prisoner he had brought with him.
After that they could lay their heads together, to fashion a plan by means of which the girl might be spirited away.
Once on the ground Sandy began to stretch himself vigorously. Nearly two hours of confinement, without being allowed to move much of the time, had apparently tied his young muscles in knots, so that they actually pained him.
"I'm glad to be able to put up my hands again, I tell you," Sandy remarked, as he thus stretched his limbs, and drew in huge breaths, as though he had not been allowed to use his lungs properly for fear lest he thus betray their place of concealment to the watchful enemy below.
Bob was himself feeling much better since allowed to leave that hard perch in the thickest part of the giant oak. He would have so expressed himself, no doubt, only that he was given no opportunity. Even as he opened his mouth to reply to his brother, a gruff voice broke in upon them from the rear, saying:
"Zat is ver' goot, begar! Suppose, then, young monsieur continue to elevate ze hands, and so it vill not tempt me to shoot. If so be I must press zis trigger of ze gun, poof! it vill be ovaire so quick wif you all. Stand still, or ze consequences be on your own heads!"
Bob felt a cold chill as he listened to these scoffing words. He recognized the voice as belonging to Armand Lacroix, the French trapper who had given him such a look of hatred at the time there was a dispute between them as to whom the game belonged, and which was settled in favor of the young pioneer.
"Steady, Sandy!"
"But, Bob, must we just stand here, and let them take us prisoners?" asked the younger brother, in an agonized voice.
"We can do nothing to help ourselves just now," Bob went on, in a singularly calm tone, "because, you see, there are four of them; and each man has a gun pointed at us. We must try to kill time, hoping that Blue Jacket may bring us help in some way."
"Blue Jacket—where is he?" asked Sandy, wonderingly.
"I do not know," replied Bob. "He disappeared like a shadow. I think he must have heard the breathing of these men as they came along, and, knowing that it was too late to cry out a warning to us, he just melted away, as is his habit."
"Will he desert us, then?" asked Sandy, with a trace of bitterness in his voice.
"Impossible," answered his brother. "We ought to know Blue Jacket better than to think that of him. Forget all about him just now, and perhaps, if things come to the worst, he may show his hand."
"What for you say zat, young monsieur?" demanded the leering Lacroix. "Haf you zen a compadre near by? Zen it vill not be good for him to come back. Ve vill engage to make a prisoner of heem just as ve haf of you. Drop ze guns, both of you!"
Bob instantly obeyed. He would have resisted to the last gasp if there had been any chance, however slight; but, when four guns were bearing on them, with the owners not more than ten feet away, it would have been foolhardy to refuse to carry out the order of the lawless French trapper.
Besides, he somehow fancied that the others would have preferred a defiant attitude on their part, since it would give them a reasonable excuse to shoot.
Sandy, seeing that his brother had in this way acknowledged their case to be apparently hopeless, also cast his faithful old musket from him. Seldom had it ever missed fire, and he was accustomed to depending on it when in sore need; but just then it could only invite the coming of quick death, if he so much as tried to draw the hammer back.
The stalwart woodranger of course noted this unhappy manner of Sandy. It seemed to rather please him, since the shoe was now on the other foot, and he had the whip-hand of the young pioneers.
"Ze leetle cub, he not like eet ver' much," he chuckled. "But it is ze fortunes of war, monsieur, and you must bend ze neck to ze sword. Ve haf you in ze hole and zis game eet ees in our hands. Now, tell me if you please, vat brings you up to zis country, so far avay from ze happy cabin on ze Ohio, la belle river?"
Neither of the boys replied, Sandy because he was too angry to speak, and Bob on account of wanting to gather his wits first, before committing himself. To tell these enemies about Kate would be weakening their case. Should they escape from the clutches of the four Frenchmen, the chances were that Lacroix would warn Black Beaver that the brothers of his captive had come to rescue her and a trap might be laid into which they would fall.
"Ze astonishment of ze matter almost strike me dumb," continued the other, who seldom knew when to stop talking, once he started. "To zink zat zese leetle boys of ze Eenglish should hide zemselves in zat sacred oak, and hear all zat was said at ze grand council! It ees marvel! It is superb! I am not agree in my mind whether ve ought to visit ze punishment on zere heads ourselves, Monsieur Larue, or take zem to ze Indians for to run ze gauntlet, and burn at ze stake!"
Sandy shook his head. It was as much as to tell the speaker that if he were carrying on this style of talk simply to frighten the two undaunted lads, he might as well save his breath.
At this moment the other leader among the trappers took a turn in the conversation, which up to now had been monopolized by Lacroix.
"I haf von idea, Armand, my friend," he observed, looking very wise.
"Zat is ver' well; but suppose you share ze same wif us all!" Lacroix cried, as he pressed his cheek against the butt of his heavy gun, after the manner of a man who longed to pull trigger and do fell execution.
"You seem to think," Larue continued, "ze young cubs zey come avay up to zis far country just to climb in zat tree, and listen to ze great Pontiac talk. Parbleau! zat is all wrong, I assure you on my honor. Look back, my friend, and perhaps you vill remember zat when ve lodged in ze great town of ze Senecas zere came into the same a young chief who bring wif heem a prisoner!"
Bob started, and bit his lips until the blood came. Without meaning to do the brothers a good turn Larue was about to make a disclosure that would do away with uncertainty concerning the whereabouts of the stolen Kate.
"Oui, I remember ze same, ver' well," said Armand; "but what may zat haf to do wif our young friends here? Haf zey lost some one from zere family? Was zat girl belong to zem, I would like to know?"
Jacques Larue nodded his head violently.
"At ze time somezings seem to say to me zat somewhere haf I seen ze pretty face of ze leetle one. Now I know. She is ze seester of ze Armstrong boys. From her home haf she been carry by ze young chief, who fancy her face, because he lose heem own seester not so long ago. And so, behold, do zese brave boys come all zis way to rescue ze Kate. Is it not grant? Alas! to zink zey fall themselves into ze power of ze savages, and be made to burn at ze stake. Zat is sad!"
He pretended to look mournful as he said this; but there was an old score to be settled between Jacques and the young pioneers, and Bob was not deceived in the least by this mockery of sympathy.
Back in those sparkling orbs he could see the wicked delight that filled the soul of Larue at this unexpected pleasure. For the moment even the insult, put upon him by the great Pontiac in the presence of scores of chiefs and warriors, was almost forgotten.
Nor was Armand Lacroix more to be depended on. He might, down in his heart, feel something like admiration for the grit shown by the lads in thus venturing into a hostile country in order to serve their loved sister. That feeling, however, would be utterly superceded by his joy at having a chance to vent his evil spite upon the boy who had held him up at the muzzle of his gun, and made him a laughing stock for Simon Kenton and his fellow borderers.
"Sacre! vat shall be done wiz zem?" demanded Lacroix, half lowering his levelled rifle; for, since the boys had cast away their weapons, they could hardly be deemed dangerous, especially since there were two men to each lad.
"It was a clever idea you haf, Armand, to come back to ze sacred oak, where ze Indians, you say, would nevaire interrupt us, for a talk. Only for zat we would not haf ze pleasure of meeting our young friends. You ask what sall we do wif zem? Eef I haf my way, I say, turn zem loose and zen give each twenty paces to run, after wich we would fire. I haf drive ze head of a nail at more zan zat."
"Ze idea heem not haf bad, Jacques; but, after all, what could equal ze pleasure of turning zese two bold trailers over to ze Pottawottomies wif Pontiac. Zey know how to torture ze foe. Zey haf long experience. Eet is no business of ours how zey put ze prisoner to death; zey are our allies, and we cannot let escape zose who carry ze great secret of ze council."
Bob knew the character of these half-savage French trappers. He believed they were on a par with the renegade white man whom he had heard utter such bitter words at the council fire, and whom he fancied must be the notorious Simon Girty, himself. Had it been his own life that was in peril, Bob would have refused to make any sort of appeal to the lawless trappers; but, for the sake of little Kate, he felt that he must lower his pride to plead with them.
"Lacroix and Larue," he said, slowly, and with an earnestness in his manner that chained their attention; "for myself I would scorn to plead; but, because of the poor child who is at this hour a prisoner in the Iroquois village, I ask you to let us go free. Her poor mother's heart is nearly broken, and if Kate never comes back, it will surely give way. If you would only let us go, so that we might try to set her free, we give you our solemn promise that we will deliver ourselves up to you again, if we survive, so that you can do what you will."
The two Frenchmen exchanged glances. They could not but be influenced by the brave words of the half-grown lad. At the same time, they had too long led utterly wicked lives to allow themselves to be tempted to do the right thing now.
"Listen to zat, would you, Larue?" said Armand, with a sneer. "Ze cub wants us to let him go free zis time. He even promises zat he will call heemself our prisoner at any time in ze future, eef he lives. It is to laugh. I haf always believe ze bird in ze hand is much better zan two in ze bush. How ees it, Jacques, shall we bow ze young monsieur and hees brother off ze premises, or turn zem over to ze savages, to run ze gantlet, and afford much sport?"
"Our duty eet is plain, Armand," the second Frenchman remarked, with a chuckle; "we dare not play double wif our allies. Zey would turn on us and poof! zat would be ze end of everyzing. No, it must be zat we make ze prisoner, and march ze cubs in to ze Iroquois town to be punished as spies."
"Oh!" said Sandy, unable to entirely keep quiet, with his pulses beating like a furious trip-hammer.
"Stand still, Sandy!" said Bob in a low tone, fearing that his impulsive brother was about to take desperate chances in leaping at the four French trappers; "all may not yet be lost. Hold hard for just another minute, I beg of you!"
Something in Bob's tone gave Sandy a new lease of life. It was as though he had made a discovery that meant hope. And this was, indeed, what had happened, for, just five seconds before, Bob had seen a head suddenly raised above the surrounding bushes; and even in the dull light of the dying fire he believed that he had recognized the well known features of Pat O'Mara!
Fortunately Bob understood what part he ought to take in the turning of the tables on the quartette of Frenchmen. If he could only hold their attention for a brief time, Pat O'Mara might creep up close enough to spring his surprise.
That one glimpse which Bob had taken had shown him another thing; the Irish frontiersman was not alone! In several other places the bushes were waving slightly, proclaiming that others must also be advancing cautiously toward the council oak.
He knew not whom they might be, and, beyond the possibility of Blue Jacket constituting one of the number, could not even guess who were Pat's comrades. But it was positive that they must be friends, else they would not be up here along the border of the Great Lakes, spying upon the grand council of the tribes in league with that trouble-maker, Pontiac.
And so wise Bob immediately set to work to hold the attention of Larue and his three companions. Seconds would count just then, since their friends were crawling closer and closer all the time.
"Wait for a minute, please, gentlemen all!" he cried, holding up a hand, as he saw Armand take a step forward, doubtless eager to bind with deerskin thongs the lads he hated so bitterly.
There was something about Bob's manner to arouse their curiosity. Besides, they knew no reason why they should wish to hurry. The Indians dared not return again to the vicinity of the sacred council oak, after the medicine men had conducted their closing exercises under its wide spreading branches; time must elapse before the spell which had been placed on the tree would have exhausted its charm. Hence there seemed to be no danger of interruption.
Besides, they fancied playing with their prisoners, somewhat as a cat does with a mouse, enjoying, in anticipation, the feast to come.
"What is eet ze young monsieur would say to us?" asked Larue, making a mock bow, as though he could not forget the manners of a polite Frenchman even in the midst of war's alarms.
"Perhaps we might be able to give you much valuable information in return for a favor!" said Bob, trying to fill his manner with mystery, so as to further excite the curiosity of the border adventurers, always eager for gain.
He saw that they began to show some interest; for Jacques and Armand exchanged glances, with raised eyebrows. It was as if one said to his comrade: "Shall we listen to what he has to say?" and the other by a nod announced that it would be as well, since they had nothing to lose.
"Bob, what would you do?" gasped the horrified Sandy, actually believing that, in his despair, his brother meant to reveal some weakness in the defences of the white settlers, or betray the secret code by which they expected to summon assistance in time of need.
"Be still!" hissed Bob, between his teeth, for he saw figures creeping closer, making no more noise than so many snakes might have done; and Sandy, utterly confounded by this strange attitude of the other, shrank back appalled, fearing lest Bob had indeed lost his mind.
"Listen for a minute to me, Lacroix," the young pioneer went on, as he held the attention of the four men. "Perhaps I could tell you where much of this same precious ore might be found. Look well at it, and say whether or not it is true gold!"
He had taken something from his pocket, and now tossed it across to the nearest man, who chanced to be Armand. The latter dextrously caught the object, which he immediately began to examine with the eyes of greed.
"Throw some small wood on ze fire, so that I may haf more light!" he exclaimed; "and ze rest of you keep an eye on ze young cubs zat zey do not run away. Sacre! can I belief my eyes? What is zis I see?"
Sandy caught his breath. For the first time there flashed through his mind something of the truth with regard to Bob's sudden inspiration. He realized that his shrewd brother must be fighting for time.
That little piece of ore containing the sparkling gold grains had often lain in his own palm, for Bob had carried it many years. Originally it had come from the mountains of North Carolina, where some of the settlers were engaged in a crude method of mining in the streams and rocky gullies. A returned Virginian, who had gone there to nurse his sick brother, brought some of these specimens with him, and one had been given to Bob.
And now it was playing the great part for which perhaps it had so long been reposing in the pocket of the young pioneer.
Meantime Larue, having caught up a handful of fine wood, and cast the same upon the smouldering council fire, so that it flamed again briefly, hastened to lean over the shoulder of his shorter comrade. His hungry eyes feasted upon the glittering object which Armand held in the hollow of his hand.
"Can it be posseeble zat it ees real gold?" he asked, with a quiver of greed in his harsh voice.
"Take eet and see, Jacques," replied the other, thrusting the object upon his companion, as though eager to have his own opinion verified.
Immediately the other, having examined the bit of ore, about which there could be no possible doubt, raised his bloodshot eyes, and surveyed Bob almost fiercely. And the boy knew then and there that his trap had worked; for he had chained the attention of the four Frenchmen, while closer and closer crept those who were coming through the bushes toward the opening.
"Haf you more of ze same stuff?" demanded Jules.
"Not here," replied Bob, coolly. "I would not be apt to carry it along with me when starting out on such an expedition as this. But I give you my word I can tell you where it comes from, and where much more of it lies, waiting to be picked up."
The covetous eyes of the crafty pair sought each other; and then the two exchanged nods. They had swallowed the bait, gorged it in fact; but Bob knew that he must try to prevent their feeling the hook until he was ready to strike.
"What is zis you tell us, hey?" Larue continued craftily. "Zat if we let you go free, you take us to ze place where we can peek up much of zis same yellow sand in ze rock? But how we know you keep your word? S'pose we hold one like hostage till time come zat you carry out promise?"
Bob turned to his brother, at the same time giving him a sly wink.
"What say you to that, Sandy?" he asked. "Would you agree to stay with Larue and his friends while I carry out our little plan; and then, later on, they would set you free, after I had led them to where they might find more of this?"
And Sandy, beginning to realize the value of passing seconds, pretended to carefully weigh the importance of the proposition before replying. Finally, after the Frenchmen had begun to move restlessly, as they kept their eager eyes fastened on him, Sandy nodded his head.
"Whatever you think best, that will I do, Bob?" he said, slowly.
"Zat is well, young monsieur," chuckled Jacques, rubbing his hands together, as if greatly pleased. "Parbleu! it may be zat we shall yet be able to make arrangements satisfactory to both. If you rescue ze young ma'mselle, we are to be told ze secret; if, on ze uzzer hand, you fail, still ze one who is wiz us shall lead us to ze fine mine. It ees a bargain!"
So delighted were the four men over the prospect, that those who were supposed to be watching the boys allowed their rifles to sag a bit. Bob was running a hand through the pockets of his clothes, as though eagerly searching for something else, and of course every eye was riveted on his movements; which was the very object he had in mind.
Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, there was a rush of feet. The four French trappers whirled about with the intention of putting up a stout resistance, but it was too late. They had been caught napping!
The guns were torn from their grasp, and hurled to the ground. Instantly they found themselves staring into dark muzzles of guns held in steady hands, while back of these weapons appeared the faces of Simon Kenton, Pat O'Mara and one other woodranger. Nor was Blue Jacket missing, for he stood in plain sight, with an arrow fitted to his bowstring, and drawn nearly to the flint barb, as he aimed straight at the heart of Larue.
"Make the slightest noise, and you shall surely die!" exclaimed Kenton, in a stern voice, that had its effect upon all the Frenchmen.
Meanwhile Bob and Sandy had taken advantage of the opening to leap forward and recover their own weapons, which were instantly levelled at their enemies. Thus encompassed on all sides it was little wonder that the French trappers were ready to throw up their hands, and admit defeat.
"History has a way of repeating itself, Lacroix," said Kenton, with a laugh, as he started to bind the hands of the borderman with tested thongs made from the toughest of elk hide. "Once before I had the pleasure of stopping your little game when you would oppress these two boys. Mark well what I say, for the next time you raise a hand against them, the crack of a rifle will seal your doom! Two warnings spell the end."
"But what would you do wiz us?" demanded Larue, as he saw that each of his companions was being triced up in the same fashion as himself; since Pat and the remaining scout were experts in the art of applying bonds.
"That we do not know just yet," returned the borderer. "But, if you accept your capture as the fortunes of war, and do not try to escape, there will be no harm befall you."
Bob and Sandy were no longer filled with despair. Like magic their condition had changed. Instead of being prisoners in the hands of these cruel French trappers, and threatened with the fate that so often came upon those falling into the hands of the warring Indians, they were once more free.
Better still, they had found good friends in Kenton, Pat O'Mara and the third scout, so that the chances of their daring mission being carried out were more favorable than ever.
"Pat has told us about the trouble that has come upon you, Bob," Kenton said, as he shook hands with each of the boys in turn. "And we all feel for you. Our object in coming here has now been accomplished, since we have listened at a distance to what Pontiac said to the chiefs at the grand powwow here. If we can help you rescue little Kate, we stand ready to lend a hand."
Sandy's face fairly beamed with joy. As we know, he entertained a feeling bordering on worship for the gallant young woodsman, Simon Kenton, who in his opinion was a greater hero than Colonel Boone himself. What Kenton said, therefore, counted heavily with Sandy; and, when the reckless borderer thus gave his promise to assist them in their work, the boy believed success was assured.
Not so Bob, who was accustomed to weighing things more seriously before making up his mind. He knew of the countless difficulties they would have to meet, both before they effected the rescue of Kate, and afterward, when the whole country near the Great Lakes would be overrun with savage hordes, searching for the palefaces who had dared invade their territory, and even enter the great village of that most noted of Seneca chiefs, Kiashuta, the war leader, who had just made a new blood compact with Pontiac.
Still, it was good to look on the faces of these three valiant hunters, and realize that no longer were two weak boys pitting their strength and knowledge of Indian tactics against the cunning of the Iroquois.
Bob did not fail to shake the hand of his friend, Blue Jacket, who must have run across the three borderers soon after he slipped away at the coming of the hostile Frenchmen.
Thus they now counted six stout souls, united in the determination to accomplish the object of the long journey, and bring little Kate back to the arms of the fond mother, mourning on the bank of the far-distant Ohio.
To the hands of Simon Kenton willingly did Bob resign his cause, firm in the belief that, if any mortal could carry it to success, the bold borderer would.
"We must get away from here right soon," announced Kenton, after he had asked the boys a few questions concerning the adventures that had been met with on the long and dangerous journey across country from the Ohio to the region of the Great Lakes.
"Whatever you say, we will do only too gladly," declared Bob; and Sandy nodded his head eagerly, to denote that he was of the same mind.
"Very good," remarked the borderer, who had been thinking over matters even at the time he questioned the boys. "And, as it happens, we know of a fine hiding-place not a great way off, where we can keep these fellows safe during the time we must stay around the Seneca town."
"Troth!" remarked Pat O'Mara, immediately; "'tis a jewel av a place. They till me they have kept house in the same both toimes whin comin' up till the counthry av the Great Lakes, to say phat the crafty ould sarpint Kiashuta might be about. By the greatest luck in the worrld I ran acrost Abijah Cook here, and was introduced to the cavern. 'Tis a grand place I'm tilling ye, me boys; and bad cess to the ridskin that iver discovers the same."
"Come, let us depart without any more delay," said Kenton, impatiently; for he knew that there was more or less danger lest one of the medicine men find some excuse to return to the sacred oak, and thus make a discovery that must cause the Seneca village to buzz like an enormous hive of bees, with scores of warriors rushing forth to scour the whole neighborhood for signs of the bold palefaces.
The four Frenchmen evidently did not enjoy the prospect by which they were confronted. Still, they were soldiers of fortune enough to accept things as they came along. Who could tell what the next shuffle of the cards might bring forth? The first often became last, and the under dog might find himself in a position to make terms as victor.
That their air of indifference was assumed even the boys felt sure. They could detect the cautious looks cast around by the leaders of the Frenchmen, and understood how eagerly they would seize upon a chance to escape.
Nor were the three white men in doubt as to what such a catastrophe might mean for them; since it must bring a mob of cruel foes howling at their heels like a pack of timber wolves eager for the blood of the wounded stag.
Quitting the wonderful oak that had, perhaps, witnessed these strange councils of the red men for centuries past, all plunged into the forest.
The French trappers were fastened together with a hide rope which Kenton happened to have wrapped about his waist.
Guarded by men with ready rifles, and followed by the two boys and Blue Jacket, the prisoners knew they would show their good sense by refraining from any demonstration.
Crafty Larue might have sought to delay the march by pretended stumbles, but he did not exactly like the manner of Kenton. Possibly he knew something of the fiery nature of the rash borderer, and feared to arouse his anger.
As they thus threaded the mazes of the deep woods, winding in and out while following certain trails made doubtless by wild animals, not a word was spoken. Kenton had warned the prisoners that talking would not be allowed under any circumstances.
He himself wished to ask a score of important questions of the boys, knowing that, since they had been hidden in the oak tree during the holding of the great palaver, they must know much that he yearned to grasp. But he could wait until they were in a position of safety before making his inquiries.
"I hope we are nearly there," whispered Sandy in the ear of his brother, for, to tell the truth, the boy was nearly exhausted after the great strain of the last week, and then those two long hours up in the tree, when he could hardly breathe freely, for fear of betraying their hiding-place to the watchful enemy.
Pat O'Mara was close enough to catch the low words, or else he guessed what Sandy must have said. At any rate, he dropped back a pace or two, and managed to remark in his genial, consoling way:
"Whist now, be aisy, me boy; 'twill not be long afore we reach our distination. And thin, by the powers, ye can rist as long as ye plaise. Do be lookin' out that ye lave the trees alone, and save the skin av your nose," he added, as Sandy, forgetting to be as careful as usual, in his desire to hear what Pat had to say, ran full into a sapling that he failed to see in time, and consequently suffered to the extent of several scratches on his face.
It was almost marvellous the way those forest rangers managed to pass in and out of the dense forest like so many shuttles in the hands of an expert weaver. The moon was utterly missing now, and even the light of the stars failed to penetrate beneath that thick canopy of matted branches overhead, so that they stalked along in almost complete darkness.
But they were at home under such conditions. The woods were an open book to Kenton. He read the pages as readily as any Indian who ever crouched in the war-dance, or lifted his voice in the whoop of a foray. They used to say that Kenton possessed the eyes of a cat, so that he could see when other men were blind. And perhaps they were right, for he certainly led his little troop in and out with marvellous skill.
Some ten minutes later Bob heard the music of a waterfall ahead.
"Phat do yees think av that?" asked Pat O'Mara a moment later, as they stood on the bank of a fairly large stream, and looked up at the sheet of water that shot over the ledge above, to fall in a white tumbling mass into the pool at their feet.
"It is beautiful," observed Bob, who, however was wise enough to know that Kenton would not have brought them hither simply to admire the cataract.
"Back of that sheet of water there is a cavern," said the leader, as they stood on the shore. "I have been many times to the great Niagara, and a friendly Onondaga chief took me back to the wonderful shelf of rock that is hidden by that wall of falling water. So I suspected that there might be just such a fine hiding-place here. Many months ago, when I was up in this country on a mission for Governor Dunmore of Virginia, I investigated, and found it to be true. Follow after me and you shall see."
The four prisoners held back. They did not like the idea of braving the wrath of those descending waters. Perhaps there may have been some superstitious fear connected with their hesitancy, for the Indians had legends concerning this same cataract, and believed that the spirits of the departed came hither, to sing again the war chants and songs of love that they had known when on earth.
But there was nothing left for the Frenchmen to do but obey, when those grim keepers urged them on. Life was sweet, even to such reckless rovers, and so, overcoming their reluctance, they obeyed the directions given, and passed in safety behind the sparkling, water curtain.
"Keep against the rock, all!" said Kenton, who was in the lead.
Sandy stumbled; but, as usual, Bob was quick to throw out a helping hand, so that the other was saved a plunge over the edge of the rock, which must have resulted in a good ducking, if nothing more serious.
"Now stand still," came the voice of their leader from a point close at hand. "I have torches handy, and, as soon as I can get at my tinder, you shall have light."
Presently, as they stood patiently waiting, holding on to the prisoners lest they be tempted to make a dash for liberty in the dark, they heard Kenton striking his flint against the steel. Then a tiny blaze sprang up, which in turn was communicated to a long splinter of fat pine, taken from a tree, they afterwards learned, that had been lately riven by a thunderbolt, and hence was scrupulously avoided by the Indians.
When the torch lighted up the cavern the boys found that, owing to the formation of the rocks, it was next to impossible for any one outside to see signs of human occupancy. Besides, should a Seneca warrior discover a strange weird glow behind the water curtain, he would very likely fall on his face in the full belief that the spirits were holding council there, and that the fire was not of this world, but from the land of the great Manitou.
"Here you can rest, my brave boys," said Kenton, kindly. "We have plenty of meat, and there is no lack of fuel. The smoke of the fire escapes through crevices in the rocks above. See, yonder are beds of leaves and stripped hemlock. After we have eaten, and you have told me what you heard while hidden in the oak, you must lie down to rest. As to the rescue of Kate, we will make our plans later."
A fire was soon started, the same supply of pine wood doing service. And, under such singular conditions, the two young pioneers ate the first good meal they had enjoyed for more than a week.
Afterwards Bob sat beside Kenton while the borderer plied him with many questions. Of course Bob was not always able to give as intelligent an answer as he would like, since his ignorance of the Indian tongue had prevented his understanding much that had been said by Pontiac and the other head chiefs during the council; but Kenton, in his customary shrewd way, managed to guess at what was lacking.
"It is all plain to me, Bob," he said, later on. "Pontiac is at his old game, and hopes to weld all the various tribes from the Alleghanies to the Mississippi in a grand confederation in favor of the French, whom he loves, and against the English colonists, whom he despises. The Sacs, his own people, the Pottawottomies; the Foxes; the Delawares; even the Illinois tribes he is sure of; also the Shawanees. He longs to add the Six Nations, or Iroquois, to the list. That is why his silver voice is heard in the land of the Senecas," he added bitterly.
"But the Iroquois are the friends of the English?" Bob exclaimed.
"Yes," Kenton went on, a frown mantling his fine face. "They have been, in the past; but the artful French have long tried to undermine this old established friendship. They constantly seek opportunities to make the Onondagas, the Oneidas, the Mohawks, the Cayugas, the Tuscaroras, and the Senecas believe that the English governor of Virginia is playing them false, and speaking with a double tongue."
"But they have not wavered, up to now," said Bob. "Surely they hate the French so much that they will refuse to join with them in warring on our settlements, just because the lilies of France seek to run a line of trading posts all the way down the Mississippi?"
"We believe that is true with most of the tribes; but the Senecas have acted in a suspicious way," returned the borderer. "That is why we two came up to this northern country. News reached Boone that Pontiac was sending his wampum belt to the Seneca chief, Kiashuta, with word that the owner expected to personally follow it up, and address a great gathering of the various tribes under the famous Seneca council oak."
"If that was Kiashuta with whom Pontiac departed, I greatly fear he is leaning toward the teaching of the great plotter," Bob declared.
"Yes, he has little love for the English, the more the pity," Kenton added; "but, left to himself, the Seneca would have been swayed by his fellow chiefs of the Six Nations. Now that he has heard the fiery, persuading voice of Pontiac, I fear he, too, will be ready to dig up the hatchet that has been buried these many years, and go with his young braves on the warpath, burning and slaying."
Sandy had already thrown himself down on some of the hemlock boughs, and was far gone on the road to slumberland. The warmth of the cavern, together with his more satisfied mind, and the good supper of which he had just partaken, combined to make the lad very sleepy.
Nor was Bob averse to following his example when he found that Kenton had no more important questions to ask. He did not inquire as to what plans the other might have already budding in his mind, looking to the stealing of their captive sister from the clutches of the Senecas.
Kenton was a man to be trusted when he had such a task on hand. He would sleep on it, and, with the coming of another day, no doubt they might hear just how he expected to go about entering the village of the Senecas, and robbing Black Beaver's wigwam of its latest tenant, the paleface girl whom the young chief had stolen to replace the daughter so mourned by the old squaw, his mother.