"Must we wait for night to come, Bob, before we can make a move?" asked Sandy, as he and his brother sat back of the water curtain that concealed the wonderful cavern discovered by Simon Kenton.
"Why, what else could be done?" exclaimed Bob. "In the broad daylight, if we left this hiding-place, we might run across some hunting party of Senecas; or, perhaps, a group of other Indians returning to their own country. What a calamity that would prove, Sandy!"
"Yes, I understand," the younger boy replied, with a heavy sigh; "but how slowly the hours pass. They seem like lead to me. Every minute drags as if it stood for ten. I've tried to sleep; but the terrible position of our poor sister haunts me. And then I get to thinking of father. What if it was his party that the Indians attacked and killed."
"We can only hope on, and trust that all will come out well in the end," replied Bob, who only with a most determined effort was able to keep from falling into the same despondent condition that Sandy showed.
Truth to tell, there was good reason for his courage to be put to the test. By some accident Abijah Cook, the companion of Kenton on this long and hazardous trip to the country of the Great Lakes, had overheard some Indians talking, while he lay concealed in a dense thicket near the borders of the Seneca village.
Among other things which they discussed, was the information that a party of palefaces travelling eastward had been taken by surprise, and utterly wiped out of existence. Their scalps even then adorned the lodge-poles of a Shawanee village far to the southeast.
It was true that the one who carried this news had claimed that the party numbered a round ten, as many as the fingers on both hands, but Bob knew how such a thing might easily be stretched in the telling, and, while he pretended to scoff at the idea of their father's little party having fallen victims to the treachery of the red men, deep down in his heart he was conscious of a terrible chill every time his thoughts turned that way.
"But how is it we do not see our good friend, Blue Jacket?" continued Sandy. "He is not the one to desert us in such a terrible time as this."
"Never!" exclaimed Bob, positively. "Blue Jacket is faithful to the death. You do not see him just now because Kenton sent him to visit the village, and find out how the land lies."
"But dare he enter there, with Pontiac and all those other chiefs from distant tribes still present as guests of Kiashuta?" asked Sandy, puzzled.
"Why not," answered his brother, "when that is the very thing to make his coming seem perfectly natural. Blue Jacket is known as a coming man in his tribe. Some day, if he lives, he will become famous, and, Sandy, although I am sorry to say it, outside of our family I do not believe Blue Jacket loves the whites any too much."
"No," declared Sandy, quickly; "he has lost several dear relatives by the guns of the settlers. He was even engaged in trying to wipe out our little caravan at the time we saved his life, and won his eternal gratitude. I see now what you mean, Bob. He can enter the village of the Senecas, saying that he was on a mission for his far-away tribe, and, learning of the grand council, stopped to meet Pontiac."
"And to learn what the outcome of the grand palaver had been, so he might carry the news with him to his own people. I think he must be known to some of the other chiefs, who would vouch for him—Long Coat, the Delaware; Turtle Heart and Bald Eagle, of the same nation; and even Silver Heels, who, like our friend, is a full-blooded Shawanee. I am only worried about one thing, Sandy."
"Tell me what that may be, then," asked Bob's brother.
"When Blue Jacket comes face-to-face with Pontiac," the older pioneer boy went on, "will those far searching eyes of the great sachem look deep into his heart, and see that he has a double purpose in coming into the village? They say he has terrible eyes, that can read the secrets of the heart like the pages of a book."
"But Blue Jacket really has no cause for fear!" Sandy exclaimed. "His heart is with the plans of Pontiac, only, in this case, he would try and save our little sister to us."
"But," Bob continued, shaking his head seriously, "think what would happen to him if they knew he had been hidden in the sacred oak, and assisted two palefaces to overhear the council!"
"Well, they are not going to know that, for a while at least," declared Sandy; "unless one of our prisoners happens to get away. We must make sure that so great a disaster does not occur."
"Surely. But here is Simon Kenton coming to join us. I have wanted to ask him many things about the village of the Senecas, where our Kate is a prisoner, and perhaps, while we sit here, waiting for Blue Jacket's return, he may give us some account of what he has seen among the lodges of Kiashuta."
The borderer threw himself down beside them.
"What were you two talking about just now?" he remarked, smiling in his pleasant way, for Kenton was a most agreeable young fellow, with winning manners that made him many friends, even though Boone looked upon him as a firebrand because of his extreme recklessness in fighting the Indians.
"I was just saying to Sandy that, since you have been in the Seneca village several times, you might tell us some of the things you saw there. Is it a very large place; are the Senecas feeling bitter against the white settlers; and what do they do when not on the warpath?"
"Both times that I was among the Seneca lodges it was in disguise," smiled Kenton, always ready to give information when it lay in his power. "A friendly Indian decked me out in paint and feathers, and, as I speak the language almost as well as one of the natives, I had little difficulty. I was supposed to be a strolling Cayuga, and received as such."
"But on this present expedition you did not venture to go in among the lodges, because of the added danger, I suppose?" Bob asked, deeply interested.
"Yes," Kenton continued; "one night we stole past the guard, and scouted around; but the dogs got scent of us, and we found it best to leave in a hurry. There was more or less of a row; but the Indians doubtless believed that it had only been some bold wild animal that had invaded the village in search of food. We easily covered our tracks, and, after that, decided to simply hang about, waiting for the coming of Pontiac."
"Then you could not know anything about our sister, or the location of Black Beaver's lodge?" asked Sandy, in a disappointed tone.
"That is true," came the hunter's reply; "but all that information we expect the friendly Shawanee chief to pick up right now. He knows his business, and, depend on it, his report will cover the ground."
"I have always wanted to see the life of an Indian village," Bob went on; "but so far the chance has never come. Sandy, here, was a prisoner once in a Shawanee camp; but, as he was shut up in a wigwam until we managed to get him away, he saw little of what went on. As for me, I only had distant views of the place, and my curiosity was far from satisfied."
"And, on my part, I know the life of the Indian almost as well as I do that of my own kind," said Kenton, thoughtfully. "Many times have I spent a week among them, studying their ways, which have always had a strange fascination for me. Yes, one old chief was determined to adopt me, and I even had to steal away from his village as though I were a thief. I have hunted with the red men; watched their several dances in the seasons; learned many of their secret ways of curing skins, and drying meat for winter use; studied the magic that their medicine men pretend to employ in healing the sick, and casting out devils by all sorts of incantations and rattling of sacred gourds. Once I even assisted in securing the venom of the rattlesnake, which was to be used in poisoning the flint arrowheads they expected to use against their foes."
"I have heard of that more than once, but never met any one who had really seen how it was done," exclaimed Bob.
"Then I will tell you," Kenton immediately remarked; "for, after all, it is a very simple operation, though terrible enough. When all preparations have been made an extra large rattlesnake is found and brought to bay. As he rests in his coils they proceed to provoke him, by prodding with poles, until he is desperately angry, and launches his flat head out again and again, while his rattles buzz like a locust in the bush."
"Oh! we have come across many a rattlesnake," observed Sandy, "and have fully a dozen rattles at home to show for it. But they always give me a creepy feeling. I just can't help jumping every time I hear that dreadful warning."
"Having enraged the snake enough," Kenton went on, "a piece of liver is fastened to the end of a pole, and this is thrust up close to the coiled rattlesnake, which strikes hard and often at the meat. Later on this is allowed to turn green with the virus, and in this way a supply of poison is secured. But we ought to feel glad, boys, that the custom of poisoning arrows or spear points is as a rule frowned down upon by nearly all the tribes, as being too terrible. For, say what you will, I have found that there is a certain sense of honor among the redskins."
"Yes, we ought to be glad that is so," declared Bob. "I've known quite a few who received wounds from arrows shot from hickory bows in the hands of Indians, and, had the tips been dipped in poison, they would not now be alive to tell the story."
"And I myself could show you marks where the feathered barbs have torn my flesh," went on the young borderer, calmly. "After watching that operation with the serpent I was more than a little uneasy the next time I received a wound. But the red men themselves long ago frowned down upon such a terrible process, so we have little to fear in that quarter."
"Then it will be necessary, if Kate is rescued, that the village be entered under cover of darkness?" asked Bob.
"Without doubt that will be our plan," said Kenton. "I have been thinking it over, and arrived at a conclusion."
"Oh! please let us hear it!" exclaimed Sandy, eagerly.
"We must wait for a windy night, as well as a dark one," the frontiersman went on. "The wilder it is, the more chance we have for success, because we must set fire to the lodges, and start a fierce blaze, so that during the excitement, the girl can be taken away. After they have put out the flames the Indians may believe that Kate has just fled in fear of the danger."
"I understand what you mean," cried Sandy, "and it strikes me that it is a wonderful plan. It must succeed; only I'm sorry that we have to wait. A windy night may be a long time in coming; and how can we hold back?"
"Oh! at this changing season of the year there are few times when the wind does not blow, more or less," returned Kenton, reassuringly. "Perhaps it may be to-night for aught we know."
"Don't I just hope so," said the boy. "But I wish you would let us go with you into the village."
"I'm afraid that might be taking too many risks," returned the borderer. "However, we will see, later on. At least, I mean to ask Blue Jacket to help me rig both of you out in paint, so that, in case you are seen, discovery would not necessarily follow."
"Oh! we have more than once done the same ourselves, when playing Indian," said Bob, readily; "and it will not be so hard to carry out the part. But I trust that we may be given a chance to see what the village of Kiashuta looks like, while we wait for you to set the fires, and carry our sister off."
"Sandy, if you do not mind, it is about time we had something to eat," remarked Kenton, turning with one of his rare smiles to the younger pioneer lad. "The fire is smoldering, and can be readily rekindled with a handful of small stuff. This inaction does not keep one from feeling hungry, it seems."
So Sandy, always ready to do his duty, scrambled to his feet, and started toward the other side of the wide cavern, stepping over the figure of Abijah Cook, who was making up for lost sleep while he had the chance.
Pat O'Mara had gone off on a hunt for the day and had not returned.
Five seconds later and the voice of Sandy rang out in wild alarm.
"Bob! Kenton! make haste, or he will get away! It is Armand Lacroix, and he has slipped his bonds! See, he is making for the shelf! Oh! stop him, somebody!"
Even while Sandy was shouting these thrilling words, a figure flitted past Bob and Simon Kenton. It was the agile Frenchman, and he was making at full speed for the shelf where the exit of the strange cavern lay.
Abijah Cook, aroused by the cries, scrambled to his feet, being doubtless under the impression that they had been attacked by a large force of the dusky enemy, against whom his hand had been pitted in continual warfare.
There was a collision, and the borderer measured his length again on the stone floor of the cavern. The fleeing form of Armand Lacroix was just glimpsed as he shot around the corner of rock that lay between the rear part of the cave and the waterfall.
For once Kenton did not happen to have his rifle with him, since he had no reason to dream that he would need it. His first act had been to leap wildly forward in the hope that he might yet snatch the weapon up before the Frenchman could vanish beyond the outcropping of rocks.
Bob had seen that, when Lacroix regained his feet after his collision with Abijah, he held something in his grasp that had not been there before. It was the weapon of the big borderer, which doubtless the cunning French trapper had made up his mind to snatch up even before he started to escape.
Kenton knew just where his own rifle was leaning against the wall, and, as he reached the spot, he snatched it up with a single movement. Then he went flying after the figure of the Frenchman, leaving the two boys dumb with fear lest their plans were now doomed to utter defeat.
Larue and his two companions had witnessed with mingled feelings this dash for liberty on the part of Lacroix. They exchanged many low mutterings among themselves, and, while neither of the boys could understand much French, they felt sure that Larue was furious because the other had not waited to cut their bonds before dashing off, and thus giving them a chance to escape also.
"Oh! what if he gets clear away?" said Sandy, when several minutes had passed, and Kenton did not return.
"I hope that may not be," Bob remarked between his set teeth. "For his first act will be to bring the Senecas against us, and, even if we managed to escape, think of what Kate's fate would be."
"Hark!" cried Sandy, gripping his brother's arm convulsively; "did you hear that, Bob?"
"Surely," replied the other, endeavoring to control his anxiety as best he was able. "It was the report of a gun without a doubt; though, under here, sounds come but faintly."
"Yes, but mark that there was only one shot!" continued Sandy. "Whoever fired that did not miss. If it was Kenton, then we have no longer any need of fear lest we be betrayed; but, should it have been Armand Lacroix, perhaps we have lost our best friend, and the whole frontier will mourn the death of brave Simon Kenton."
They sat there waiting. The roar of the waterfall was the only sound that came to their ears. Both of them gripped their guns in nervous hands, and had no heart to exchange further words.
"Some one is coming," whispered Sandy, suddenly.
"Yes," his brother added, as he raised his musket so as to be ready for any emergency; "I, too, saw a shadow flit past that bright spot on the wall. Oh!"
Kenton suddenly stood before them. The first thing Bob and Sandy noticed was that the young borderer carried two guns! They could easily guess the meaning of such a thing.
"Here is your rifle, Abijah!" said the returned frontiersman, as he handed the weapon over to his big companion; then he coolly started to reload his own gun.
"But—Armand Lacroix, what of him?" asked Sandy, appalled at the consciousness that one of those dark tragedies, so common on the border, must have just taken place.
"Fear no ill," said Simon Kenton, calmly. "He will not betray us. We are safe yet a while, my brave boys."
Nor would he utter another word at the time to satisfy the terrible curiosity of the lads. They could, however, easily picture what had happened—how swiftly the athletic young borderer had pursued the fleeing Frenchman, and, coming in sight of him, perhaps just as Armand, Lacroix was about to use his gun, had taken a shot himself. His well-known skill with firearms had stood Kenton in good stead once more.
Later on, Abijah told them how Kenton had spent a few minutes in concealing all signs of the tragedy, so that, in case any prowling Indians, attracted by the rifle shot, came around to ascertain what it meant, they would fail to learn anything. Even the trail of himself and the Frenchman from the waterfall to the scene of the final meeting was utterly hidden as Kenton backed once more in the direction of the hidden cavern.
Sandy went on with his preparations for the meal; but his hand was not quite so steady as usual when he contemplated the tremendous consequences that must have followed, had the French trapper escaped.
It was difficult to realize that Armand Lacroix would give them no more trouble; that as he had lived, so had he finally died—by violence.
They were yet eating, when silently Blue Jacket entered the cavern, grave as was his custom. Sandy was immediately wringing his brown hand, and plying him with a multitude of questions. So excited did the boy seem that finally Kenton spoke to him rather sternly.
"Let me find out what has been done, Sandy," he said. "Chief, did you discover where the wigwam of Black Beaver is situated in the village?"
"It lies at further edge, close to region of rising sun," replied Blue Jacket, readily enough; for, while he did not entertain the same feeling toward Kenton that he had in his breast for the Armstrong family, at the same time he recognized, in this friend of the great Colonel Boone, one who held the respect of all hostile Indians on account of his dash and valor.
"Good. That will be of value to us when we start the blaze going," declared the borderer; "because the chances are ten to one that the wind will be out of the west, and hence we can begin work far away from that single lodge. As the Indians rush toward the fire, to put it out, they will leave the eastern side of the village unguarded; then we can do what we have planned, and disappear."
"Did you meet Pontiac?" asked Bob, who could not forget his fears for Blue Jacket, should such an encounter take place.
"Blue Jacket ask see um," replied the Shawanee; "when he exchange greetings with chief, Silver Heels, whom he knows. Some time, perhaps, Blue Jacket may yet follow in footsteps of great Pontiac. If any one man bind the tribes in big league to drive paleface back beyond the hills, Pontiac do it. And the heart of Blue Jacket beats true to his people."
"Did you take note of the village, so as to know where to start the fire in case we are compelled to adopt that method of confusion, under cover of which Kate may be rescued?" Kenton continued.
He purposely brought the name of the girl into what he said, for he saw that the young Shawanee winced at mention of firing the village. Only his devotion to the Armstrong family would induce him to thus play a double part, and turn upon his own people.
"Blue Jacket did all that," came the answer slowly, as though it were only with a great effort that the Indian brought himself to confess how he had spied on the Senecas, who were allies of his own tribe.
"You do not think Pontiac suspected you, I hope?" asked Kenton.
"Not so. Blue Jacket hide feelings. No can tell what um think. Great sachem much pleased meet Blue Jacket. Say hear good report same. Bob, Sandy, get chance see sister. Nobody look, talk, Kate grind maize in stone. Come 'long again, find this on ground. Bring Bob, him read trail of crazy fly on bark!" (Note 7.)
To the astonishment and delight of the boys he suddenly produced a small strip of birch bark from his little ornamented bag where he carried his flints, together with the paints which were used to decorate his face when on the warpath, and various other things dear to the heart of a brave.
Upon the smooth inner surface of the tiny roll of bark Kate had managed to write just a few words, using the juice of the poke berry, and perhaps a splinter of wood in place of a quill.
"Bob—Sandy, come and take me home to mother. Kate."
Tears came unbidden into the eyes of both boys as they saw these expressive words which had been inscribed on the bark by their dear little sister. They could read between the lines the dumb pain of a heart nearly broken by the extent of the terrible disaster that had befallen the child.
Sandy, less able to contain his feelings than his brother, did actually press the rude letter to his boyish lips; nor was Kenton apt to think any the less of the lad for this open exhibition of grief. He knew the tender love that bound together the three children of David Armstrong.
"Then you found a chance to talk with the maiden, did you, Blue Jacket?" asked the borderer, turning again to the Shawanee messenger.
"Blue Jacket stand by watching her grind in mill. When no one look and none hear Blue Jacket tell how Bob, Sandy come all way from Ohio to save little papoose. Then drop piece of bark, so can make marks for Bob. After some time come again that way. Kate in wigwam, bark lie on ground with trail of wounded fly on back. It is well. She know we come soon. She wait and be ready. Ugh!"
If they asked a score more questions they would hardly have received further information. In his own crude but effective way Blue Jacket had told his story. It needed no embellishment. The boys were able to mentally picture just what had occurred, and it pleased them to think that at least Kate knew of their coming.
She would be able to dry her tears now, perhaps, with her heart thrilled with this new hope and expectation of a speedy rescue.
"I am glad to have a chance to help in saving so brave a girl," remarked Kenton, as he fingered the little roll of bark on which Kate had sent her message. "What would the pioneers be able to accomplish if it were not for such valiant mothers, wives and daughters! If this beautiful country is ever given over to the whites, more than half of the credit will belong to those who loaded the guns, while their men fired them."
In turn Blue Jacket was told about the fate of Armand Lacroix, for, of course, he quickly counted one less among the bound figures lying on the rocky floor. Not by the movement of a facial muscle did he betray what he may have thought; but Bob noticed that, when Kenton was not looking, the young Shawanee cast several glances of admiration in his direction. Such a bold man as Simon Kenton could not but excite the envy and admiration of every adventurous spirit, be he white or red.
So it was that Colonel Boone made many friends among the Indians, and, on one occasion, when he fell into their power, instead of putting him to death, they adopted him into the tribe. He even lived among them for months. Hearing that a heavy force was setting out to destroy Boonesborough, and rendered desperate by the fear that his friends and relatives might thus be murdered, Boone had escaped, and managed to rejoin his kindred in time to assist in the defence of the settlement he had himself started.
The afternoon dragged along. Pat O'Mara came back from his hunt but brought no news. Poor Sandy did nothing, Bob thought, but growl, get up to walk around the confined space of the cavern, lie down again in a vain attempt to coax sleep to his eyes, and in all sorts of ways proclaim his impatience.
But, by degrees, the time passed. They had no means of telling the hour save as the shadows lengthened; the sun-dial they depended on was the dropping of the glowing day god behind the western horizon. And, when it became apparent that the twilight had actually changed into darkness, Sandy breathed a sigh of satisfaction in his brother's ear.
"Now it cannot be long!" he declared. "Once darkness settles over the land, and surely Kenton will bid us depart from this place, which I never want to see again; for I have lived and grown old here. But, oh! I only; hope there will be plenty of wind! There, he has gone out to see how things look. Let us pray he returns to tell us the wind has risen."
"What of the weather?" asked Sandy, as soon as Simon Kenton once more entered the cavern.
"So far there is good reason to hope," replied the borderer, cheerfully.
"You could not make me happier than by saying that!" cried the young pioneer, the anxious expression vanishing from his face. "Then we can expect to get away from here, and start things moving at the village of Kiashuta? May we go now?"
"Not for several hours," said Kenton, shaking his head.
"But the wind may die out by then; or something else might happen to upset all our plans?" urged the boy.
"Not much danger of that, Sandy," Bob put in. "If the wind is blowing fairly now, it will grow stronger before it dies out."
"Well said, Bob," declared the borderer; "for it is bound to do that, as I know from the look of the clouds. Blue Jacket, too, says a storm is brewing, though it may not break until early morning, so we need not fear that the lodges will get wet, and refuse to burn. My plan would be to start the fires just as the gale begins to sweep down. With the rush of the wind, and the roar of the flames, the reds will be half crazy with fear."
He made sure that Blue Jacket was not close by when he said this, because he knew how it would make the young chief wince.
"But what about your plan for dressing us all up to look like the Indians?" questioned Bob.
"We may as well get at that now," Kenton replied, promptly. "I've some paints in my own ditty bag, and Blue Jacket will furnish the rest. As we do not mean to be seen at close quarters, it can be easily fixed. Come here, both of you, boys, and let me begin work."
In a short time the crafty hand of Kenton had daubed enough paint over the faces and hands of the boys to make them look like young warriors of the Senecas. So long as they kept well within the half shadows there would seem to be little danger that their real identity would be discovered.
Boylike, they rather enjoyed the strange experience. Sandy would have been even willing to venture into the village, and try to mingle with the crowd, had Kenton given his permission; but this the borderer was not likely to do, since he knew what must follow.
After that the rangers decorated one another, so that they too might pass for Seneca warriors if they kept on their guard.
"You see," remarked Kenton, as they sat there eating the evening meal, with only a torch fastened on the wall to give them light, "one thing that is going to help us a heap is the fact that, just now, there are many strange Indians in the Seneca village, more than I have ever seen together, even in Old Chillicothe Town. We can pass for some of those who have journeyed far to listen to the words falling from the lips of the great Pontiac."
An hour later, Sandy was electrified by observing that the borderer had given a signal to Blue Jacket, Abijah Cook and Pat O'Mara, at the same time rising from his seat, where he had been squatted cross-legged on the rocky floor.
"It is time!" said Kenton, in a quiet tone, though not a muscle in his whole body gave evidence of excitement.
"At last!" sighed Sandy, as he hastened to get on his feet, gripping his musket in his fingers.
The borderer spoke a few last words, after which he made both lads pledge themselves to control their eagerness, and promise to obey his orders.
Once out of the hateful cavern, and under the trees, the boys looked about them. They had had more or less experience as woodsmen, young though they were, and it was no great task for either Bob or Sandy to read the signs in the heavens.
Clouds drifted across the sky, coming up out of the west, so that only once in a while were a few stars seen. The wind moaned fitfully in the trees, and gave promise of increasing in strength as the night grew older. Yes, just as Kenton had declared, there was a storm in prospect, though it might not break for several hours.
Kenton immediately took the lead, though Blue Jacket clung to his side as if to advise in case the borderer needed assistance. But Kenton was really as much at home in the forest as the red son of the wilderness. To him all signs were plain to read. He knew just where the Seneca village lay, and how long it was likely to take them to reach it.
They had left the three Frenchmen bound in the cavern. Larue had pleaded to be released, vowing that not one of them would whisper to the Indians concerning the presence of these invaders in their midst. But Kenton refused to take their word. He did not have a very high opinion of these French Canadian trappers as a whole; and feared lest the fellow might betray them just to curry favor with Pontiac, with whom he had quarrelled at the council. Once they were well away, Blue Jacket would find some means of communicating with the Senecas, and tell them of the prisoners in the secret grotto under the cataract.
In Indian file they started for the distant lodges of the Senecas. Winding in and out of the woods, as Kenton picked his course, they left the stream behind them.
Two miles had been placed behind. The boys had known for some time that they were approaching the Seneca town. Lights could be seen ahead, as of numerous fires. Sounds also came to their ears—voices of warriors chanting; the monotonous beating of the war drum, known as a tomtom; barking of excited curs of which every Indian village boasted its scores, most of them wolf-like in their savage nature; and even the loud laughter of half-grown Indian boys, who were perhaps indulging in foot races, or some other form of rivalry.
Closer still did Kenton lead them. Now and then he would stop, and hold a few words of whispered conversation with Blue Jacket, after which, possibly, his course might change a trifle, as he received advice.
Finally they lay down, and began to crawl through the high grass and scattered weeds and bushes. The hearts of the two boys were throbbing with intense excitement. They could see the numerous skin lodges every time they raised their heads, and it thrilled Bob and Sandy to realize that, in one of the many score before them, the little lost sister might even then be crouching, waiting in mingled hope and fear for her brothers' coming.
Not once did either lad feel the slightest fear, yet they knew well what was likely to be their fate should the Indians discover their presence. Spies they would be deemed, and, after the gantlet running, they might expect death at the stake.
Finally they halted in the last cover on the border of the village. Before them they saw scores upon scores of Indians, gathering as if in expectation of some great game or ceremony.
The crouching figures found space between the drooping twigs of the bushy screen to observe what was taking place.
Kenton whispered something in the ear of Bob, who in turn passed the intelligence on to his brother.
"War-dance!" was what he said, and both lads eagerly watched to see the wonderful spectacle of which they had so often heard, but up to now never found a chance to observe.
A painted post had been driven into the ground in the midst of the cleared space. Around this the Indian braves and chiefs gathered, all facing toward a common centre. Pontiac and some of the visiting head men were given places of honor on a rude platform, where they could remain spectators. And the great sachem was doubtless pleased at being able to observe how his fiery words of exhortation had decided Kiashuta and his warlike Senecas to dig up the hatchet against the paleface invaders.
Fires and torches illuminated the scene, casting their deep red glare upon the dusky boughs of the surrounding pines, and upon the wild multitude of warriors who, fluttering with feathers, and bedaubed with bright paint, had gathered for the celebration of the war-dance.
First of all Kiashuta himself leaped into the circle, brandishing his tomahawk as if rushing upon an enemy. In a loud voice he chanted his own past exploits, after the customary boastful way of an Indian, and then those of his departed ancestors, whose memory he honored.
And, as he thus sang and shrieked, he acted the scenes over again, sending forth the shrill war-whoop with which the foe had so often been terrorized, throwing himself into all the postures of actual combat, striking the post as though it were an enemy, and then tearing the scalp from the head of an imaginary victim.
Long before he had completed his part in the drama another chief had started in to excel Kiashuta; and, by degrees, still more, chiefs and braves, joined in the mad carnival of noise and movement, until the sight was one that neither of the young pioneers would ever forget as long as he lived.
Finally, the whole assembly, as if fired with sudden frenzy, rushed together into the ring, leaping, stamping, whooping and shrieking. They brandished knives and hatchets in the firelight, hacking and stabbing the air in their great excitement, while at intervals their cries arose to such a pitch that they might have been heard miles away over the lonely forest.
Kenton had undoubtedly witnessed this stirring scene before, and possibly Abijah Cook may also have had that experience; but the two boys stared and trembled as the war-dance grew more and more violent.
Finally the ceremony was over. Kiashuta himself gave a signal that hushed the mad carnival of noise. Once again it was possible for those who lay back of the friendly screen of grass and bushes to distinguish individual sounds.
Bob heard his brother give a long sigh, close to his ear. He knew how eager Sandy had always been to witness strange sights and explore the untracked wilderness. It was easy to understand that the boy must consider that he had just looked upon the most wonderful spectacle that he would ever see in all the days of his life.
But they must not forget why they were there. It had been with no desire to look upon any of the ceremonial dances of the Indians that they had taken their lives in their hands, and crept close to the borders of the hostile village of the Iroquois. Kate—that was the magic name by which they had been led over hundreds of weary miles, scorning peril, and laughing at all manner of privation.
Was the wind really strengthening, or did Bob dream it simply because he wished for such a thing to come about? Now that the racket had died away as suddenly as it had arisen, something like quiet settled down over the village, with its warriors exhausted by the violence of their fierce, assumed fury. And Bob, listening, was sure the sound of the breeze in the tops of the near-by pines had gained something in volume.
He knew how the plans of Kenton had been laid. There was nothing for either himself or Sandy to do, save to remain where they were placed, and wait until their allies had accomplished their undertaking.
The white men were to start the blaze, because it was asking too much of Blue Jacket to expect him to set fire to the lodges of his kind; but the young Shawanee chieftain had agreed, on his part, to steal Kate from the wigwam of Black Beaver, and bring her to the appointed rendezvous.
But how long a time must elapse before the excited owners of all these painted lodges would settle down into quiet, so that operations could begin? Sandy knew he must again possess his soul in patience. He was just about to try to whisper something in the ear of his brother when he caught a low hiss.
Undoubtedly Kenton himself was responsible for this warning. It signified that sudden danger hung over their heads. Sandy flattened himself out on the ground as though he were a panther creeping up on its intended prey. And in doing this his ear came so closely in contact with the earth that he was enabled to hear the swish of bushes, and the low patter of feet upon the dead leaves in the forest behind them. Indians were coming, running on the dog-trot for which they have always been famous!
Closer came the footfalls.
Bob almost held his breath, as he began to fear that the approaching Indians must actually step upon them, when discovery would of necessity follow. It was a terrible moment of suspense.
But Kenton had anticipated something of this sort, it would seem, when he led his little expedition into that patch of brush. The leading figure turned abruptly aside when just about to jump into the thicket, and those following at his heels did likewise.
Bob, out of the tail of his eye, for he dared not even move his head, counted seven warriors go leaping past. They gave vent to tremendous whoops as they thus burst into the village, and, from the answering cries, it was plain to be seen that they were envoys, sent from some distant Indian settlement to Pontiac.
Again there was more or less noise and confusion, with dogs harking, and many voices raised, asking what it all meant. The Indian messengers were taken into the heart of the village, where doubtless they secured an immediate interview with Pontiac and the head chiefs, after which they would be served a feast of baked dog, provided for the occasion.
Once again Bob and his brother breathed easy. It had, however, been a narrow escape, and they felt that they had reason to feel thankful because discovery was thus averted.
How Sandy would have liked to be able to whisper what was passing through his mind; but he had been warned against this by Kenton, and realized that silence would add to their chance of success.
They no longer lay flat on the earth, for, with the change in conditions, Kenton led the way, once more crouching on his knees, so as to look through the little openings in the bushes.
The hour was growing late, and by degrees they noted that the crowds had begun to disappear from the open spaces between the numerous lodges that went to make up the great village of Kiashuta and his branch of the Seneca tribe. Already had all the squaws vanished from sight, as well as the numerous papooses and the half-grown boys who had been allowed to witness this wild dance in the hope that it might inspire them with a desire to emulate the fighting warriors as they grew older.
"Listen—the wind!"
Sandy could not help saying this into the ear of his brother, taking advantage of some noise close by, which he believed would muffle the sound of his voice.
Bob had not been unmindful of the fact that the pine tops were now swaying before the breeze. They no longer sighed and moaned, but there was a decided "swish" as they strove to hold their heads up before the rising gusts.
Kenton, too, had taken note of this fact. He knew that it was time he and Abijah and Blue Jacket were going. They must make a detour, and yet arrive on the scene of their contemplated labors before the storm broke.
Bob and Sandy did not attempt to follow. Their duty was to lie still where they were until the alarm was given, and, with the flashing up of numerous fires, to retreat to a certain spot where five chestnuts grew in a clump. Here they would be joined, not only by the two scouts, but by Blue Jacket as well, and the latter was expected to bring with him the little captive girl, their sister Kate.
Kenton and his companion would have a dangerous mission. They intended to apply the blazing torch to as many of the lodges on the windward side of the village as they possibly could, so that the fire would get such a start that it could not possibly be put out before much damage had been done.
Of course, while they were thus running hither and thither, thrusting their firebrands this way and that, they took chances of being impaled on the spear of some furious brave, or feeling a tomahawk come crashing down upon their heads; but so often had they dared such risks that they gave it slight heed now.
Left alone, the young pioneers began to feel the responsibility of their position. There, just before them, lay the great Indian village, with its hundreds of people, and its scores upon scores of lodges, in each of which rested those who were now declared enemies to the whites.
True, there might be found a few whose skins were not red; but their hearts were even blacker than that of any Indian, for such renegades as Simon Girty hated their own kind as venomously as so many snakes would have done. Driven out of the settlements along the border for various crimes, they had joined their fortunes with the savages, and at all times distanced the most cruel and crafty Indian in their treacherous conduct toward the pioneers.
There was no one close enough now to catch a low whisper, so that Sandy, who felt that he must express his feelings or burst, took occasion to say in the ear of the other:
"Can you give a guess where Black Beaver's lodge lies, Bob?"
Now, that was a matter to which the other had himself given more or less attention. When he surveyed the numerous skin shelters, with their three poles sticking up out of the hole at the top, where the smoke of the fire came forth, he had kept in mind what Blue Jacket told him about the symbolic and crude paintings with which Black Beaver had decorated his tepee.
"When the fires burned their brightest I thought I saw it away off yonder to the right," he answered, in the same cautious tone that would be utterly unheard five feet away, especially while that breeze rustled the waving branches of the overhanging trees.
"Yes, that is to the east, and he said it lay there," continued Sandy. "But try to tell me which it was. Can you make it out still, Bob?"
"I think so," replied the other, who knew that Sandy simply wished to feast his hungry eyes on the wigwam thus picked out, and try to imagine that he could see the loved form of little Kate beyond its painted walls.
"Look closely," he went on, softly, "and notice that large lodge with the buffalo and the hunter. There, a fire just blazed up, and you can see it plainly. Now, the third one beyond has a double border of pictures on the skin. When the light was good I could see them plainly, and I am sure they are just what Blue Jacket told me Black Beaver had decorated his lodge with."
"I see which one you mean, Bob, thank you." And again Sandy sighed as he glued his eyes on that particular wigwam, which he believed contained the lode-star that had guided him through all the perils hovering in the woods between the Ohio and the Great Lakes.
Then Sandy fell silent again. Several times he gave a quick gasp, as he fancied he caught some movement in the vicinity of that very lodge. Could it be their faithful friend, Blue Jacket, hovering about, and making ready to strike when the wild alarm called the young Seneca chief hurrying from his lodge to assist in fighting the devouring flames?
Bob believed that enough time had now elapsed to allow the others to reach the stations assigned to them. That the blazing torch of the incendiary was not already in evidence he believed due to one or two causes.
First, Kenton may have concluded that there were still too many warriors moving about in the village. They would be in a position to attack the holders of the firebrands, and, worse luck still, to put out the fire before it had gained sufficient headway.
Then again, the storm, while growling in the distance, did not show signs of bursting upon the lake shore immediately, and its presence was very essential, in order to make the havoc so tremendous that the terrified Indians could think of nothing save the wild fight to prevent the whole village from going up in flames and smoke.
"Hist! yonder come two Indians this way! Be silent!"
Bob gave this warning because he did not know what moment his brother might attempt to communicate with him again, for Sandy always found it hard work to keep a still tongue in his head.
Just as he had said, a couple of Indians were walking slowly in their direction, seemingly in deep conversation.
Sandy nudged his brother in the side, and managed to whisper, despite the warning he had received:
"One is Pontiac himself!"
But Bob had before now discovered this fact for himself; also that the companion of the great sachem was no other than the warlike Seneca chief, Kiashuta. Perhaps Pontiac intended leaving the village at daybreak, in order to proceed on his travels, stirring up hatred in the breasts of every tribe he visited. And there were many things he wished to communicate to his red brother ere he went away.
They came to a stand not more than forty feet away from the bushes behind which the two Armstrong boys crouched. Sandy had even feared lest they meant to enter the forest at that particular point, and in so doing might stumble on the pair of young spies hiding there.
But Bob had seen that they were really heading for a log that happened to be lying in the open. Upon this they sat down, and for some little time Pontiac continued to speak in low but earnest tones. It might be he was finding out just how many armed warriors Kiashuta could throw into the field at short notice, when the signal belt reached him that the confederated tribes had risen in their might.
Bob wished they would finish their palaver, and depart. He feared that, should Kenton take a notion to start operations, the presence of these two chiefs so near the hiding-place of himself and Sandy might interfere with their withdrawal, according to the plans laid out.
Again Sandy nudged him to indicate something; but it was only that Kiashuta had arisen and hurried away, going direct to the large lodge in the centre of the village that marked the wigwam of the head chief.
Pontiac remained seated, with his back almost directly toward the spies. His air was thoughtful, as though the weight of many problems rested heavily upon his mind.
By this time the boys had grown accustomed to the sight of the most famous of all Indian chiefs. His presence no longer inspired them with that sensation of awe such as had marked their first glimpse of the magic leader, as he addressed the council under the sacred oak.
"I hope he goes away soon!" whispered Sandy, unable to keep utterly still.
"Perhaps we can back out slowly, an inch at a time," answered his brother; for the storm was muttering louder now, and seemed on the point of developing without much waste of time. He began to follow his words with action, wriggling backward, and being careful not to stir the bushes in the least.
Sandy, realizing that his brother was actually moving, also began to work his way back. An inch at a time, if continued for a certain distance, would allow of their making better progress, until they could finally rise to their feet, and glide off to the rendezvous of the five chestnuts.
He was alongside Bob, and still wriggling along, keeping his eyes in the direction where that kingly figure sat upon the log, when the older boy felt his fingers gripping his arm.
Sandy did not utter a single word; perhaps he could not find his voice to do so, he was so shocked by what he had suddenly discovered. Bob, catching some of the same spirit, simply shut his hands tight together, and held his breath, while a low whispered "Oh!" fell from his parted lips.
Just behind the sitting form of Pontiac a bending figure was creeping, and an uplifted hand clutched a terrible club, which the would-be assassin undoubtedly meant to bring down with cruel force on the unprotected head of the war sachem. And to his intense astonishment Bob recognized in this creeping figure Jacques Larue, whom they had left tied hand and foot in the cascade cavern!
Sandy Armstrong was an impulsive boy, as has been shown more than once in these pages.
He often acted on a sudden inspiration, and without weighing matters over in his mind. This disposition to do things on the spur of the moment was a part of his nature, and did not spring from the mere fact that he was a lad; for his brother Bob had no such failing.
Kenton had seen it in Sandy, and it aroused a fellow-feeling in the breast of the famous borderer for the young pioneer, because he himself had many times been taken to task by Daniel Boone for showing the same weakness.
Sandy only saw that a scoundrel was creeping up behind a brave man with the intention of doing him a deadly injury. Little he considered that Pontiac towered head and shoulders above every Indian foe the struggling settlers in the wilderness might ever know, and that his untimely death would really be a blessing to the entire white race.
Horror filled his young soul at the dastardly nature of the revengeful Larue's intentions. The pondering sachem was utterly ignorant of the presence of an enemy, as he sat there on that log, waiting for the return of the Seneca chief. Even then the French trapper was towering over the bent figure, his hands grasping that club, as he summoned all his strength for the blow, meaning to make short work of his enemy.
The public insult which Pontiac had put upon him doubtless rankled in the heart of the Frenchman. Making his escape from the cavern, where he had been left apparently securely tied hand and foot, he must have headed for the Indian village in order to betray the plans of the invaders. Then, suddenly discovering the great leader of the tribes seated there alone, an overmastering desire for revenge took complete possession of him.
Bob was himself almost frozen with horror as he saw the drama that was being played there before his eyes. He wanted to shout out, and at least warn Pontiac, so that the chief might have a chance for his life; but somehow it seemed as though his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.
Then came a loud report. It was so close to his ear that it almost deafened Bob; but he was conscious of the fact that his brother must have fired the shot.
Sandy had indeed fired, just as he saw the burly Frenchman about to bring down his club on the unprotected head of the sachem.
As we know, the boy of the Ohio river cabin was a splendid shot with that old musket which he carried; but even at such a time he could not find it in his heart to attempt the life of a white man, however much Larue merited such a fate. Consequently he endeavored to prevent the Frenchman's crime by sending a bullet through his uplifted arm.
Instantly all was confusion. It was as though that crash of a gun sounded the signal for an immediate upheaval. Larue's arm fell to his side as, in a panic, he dropped the club, and tried to turn for flight. Pontiac was already on his feet, and, grasping the situation, a yell pealed from his lips as he flung himself boldly upon the back of the French trapper, bearing him to the ground, where they struggled like a couple of angry wolverines.
Scores of braves dashed wildly from their lodges, some calling, others answering, and all running hither and thither like a pack of hounds searching for a lost trail.
Bob was dazed by what had happened. He realized that probably it meant the complete blocking of the bright plans which their friend, Simon Kenton, had arranged for the rescue of little Kate.
Had Sandy been to blame? Should the reckless boy have restrained his impulse to shoot down the wretch who would slay the great Indian leader in cold blood?
It was no time to ask such questions. They were themselves in great danger. The warriors were constantly widening their circles as they ran, and at any moment one of them might discover the crouching figures of the young pioneers in the grass and weeds.
"Back out, Sandy! Quick, or all is lost!" Bob managed to whisper hoarsely in the ear of his comrade.
Doubtless Sandy realized how his act was likely to result. Had he been content to allow matters to take their course Pontiac would ere now have been hurried on his way to the Happy Hunting Grounds of the red men; and all this confusion avoided.
It was too late for vain regrets. The thing was done, and all that remained for them now was to try to escape. If they could manage to get off undiscovered they might effect a reunion with the others, and hide in the forest, waiting for another opportunity to come.
So they started to push backward, hoping that fortune might be kind enough to allow them to reach the thick timber, where it would be easy to glide away unseen by the keen eyes of the red searchers.
Around Pontiac a dozen warriors had clustered. They seemed to understand that a desperate effort had been made to kill the great sachem, whose words had so recently thrilled them in the grand council; for all accounts agree in saying that no Indian ever spoke as did this gifted orator, Pontiac.
Larue was struggling in the hands of several furious braves. They would have made short work of the treacherous Frenchman only that the voice of Pontiac himself prevented his summary execution.
"Lay no hand on him in anger, warriors!" he called out. "Let him be taken to the strong lodge and there kept fast until your chief can decide his fate. It is the will of Pontiac; let none refuse to obey!"
After that no one dared strike the prisoner, who was dragged away shrieking, and wildly defying the man he hated.
All this excitement was in the favor of the two boys. It gave them a better opportunity to push further away from the dangerous vicinity of the log upon which the visiting sachem had been seated when so rudely disturbed by that shot. And it goes without saying that both lads wasted not a second of time in trying to gain the shelter of the woods.
They knew that Kenton must have been discouraged in his plans by this unexpected happening, because there came no sudden alarm of fire, though the wind was already strong enough to have answered his purpose. Perhaps he fancied that, through some unfortunate freak of fate, Bob and his brother had fallen into the power of the Indians; that heavy gunshot would seem to indicate as much, since few among the Senecas carried firearms.
While all these things had happened very rapidly, and it could not have been more than three minutes since Sandy fired; still, the time seemed tenfold as long to the retreating boys. Finally they reached the shelter of the heavier timber, and breathed a sigh of relief.
In those early days the settlers had a saying to the effect that "a white man should not shout until he was out of the woods, nor an Indian until he had gained their shelter." When Bob and his brother experienced a sense of safety after finally reaching the timber, they counted without their host.
Flitting figures were around them, though they knew it not, some of the Indians having hastened away at the first alarm, under the impression that it meant an attack on the part of the whites.
These braves flattened themselves against the earth, and lay like logs until the boys, straightening up, started to glide away. Then there was a whoop, a sudden springing into life of the dusky figures, and, before either Bob or Sandy could make a single effort at self-defence, they were borne down under the weight of their enemies, who were not deceived by the paint with which they had covered their faces.
With hearts as heavy as lead the brave boys were conducted into the village, now a seething volcano. Word had gone around of the base attempt on the life of the sachem who had long been the idol of so many tribes; and looked upon as the leader sent by the great Manitou to drive the rash white men back into the sea whence they came.
Every minute the indignation increased. They saw in the act a dark plot to cut them off from the leadership of the only general who had ever been able to make an alliance between a dozen tribes, and unite them against the common enemy.
The open space which, but a few minutes before, had been entirely vacant, save for the presence of Pontiac and Kiashuta, was now a seething sea of jostling braves, waving their hatchets and knives, and demanding summary vengeance on the treacherous snakes who had crawled into their midst with such base designs in their hearts.
Sandy shrank back, appalled at the terrible sight. Bob bore himself a little more bravely, though his heart, too, was cold with dread.
"Bob, forgive me!" cried Sandy, filled with remorse because again had his hasty action brought them to the verge of disaster. "I was a fool to do what I did; but I did not stop to think. I only saw that scoundrel about to kill a defenceless man, and something urged me to prevent the murder. I deserve all that is coming to me. If only you could be spared I wouldn't complain."
"Stop that sort of talk, Sandy," answered the other, hoarsely. "I am not worrying over what will happen to me. All I regret is that now Kate will not have any chance to escape. And poor mother will be heartbroken because all of her children have been taken from her."
"Oh! fool! fool that I was!" moaned Sandy, bitterly. "Father always warned me that some day my hasty nature would play me an ill turn. What do you suppose they will do with us now? Some of these braves look so ugly that I do not think we will ever live to see the sun rise again."
"Wait," said Bob, with a trace of encouragement in his voice; but whether he only spoke in this manner to comfort his younger brother, or because he really saw a sudden gleam of hope, Sandy could not guess.
When Bob uttered this one word his eyes were fastened upon the face of Pontiac, who was thoughtfully surveying the prisoners. And perhaps it was something he saw in the countenance of the renowned sachem that encouraged the boy.
Threatening braves pushed around them; tomahawks were waving in the air above their heads; and awful shouts sounded in their ears.
Sandy closed his eyes, as though unable to face the doom which he feared was so close. Doubtless in that moment of suspense his mind flew to that dear cabin far away, where he knew his mother must be waiting every day for the safe return of her children, and praying that they might be spared to her.
A groan burst from his lips; but it did not spring from fear of the fate that hung over his own head.
"Kate! Mother! Oh! Heaven help them!" Sandy said, again and again.
Still Bob watched the great leader. He seemed to divine that, if help came at all to himself and his brother, it must spring from Pontiac alone. And when he saw the chief suddenly push forward toward the struggling group, where the excited braves were jostling each other about, each anxious to have the glory of finishing the young captives, he had faith to believe that all was not yet over.
Now the voice of Pontiac was heard again, and as before commanding that none dare to injure the prisoners until permission were given.
He stood in front of them now, so close that, had Bob been free to use his arms, and dared, he might have put out a hand and touched the person of the sachem. Long and earnestly did Pontiac look them over. Wonder marked his face when he saw that they were but half-grown lads, striplings who had better have been safe in their cabin far away, rather than here in a hostile land, with a thousand mortal foes around them.
Then Pontiac turned to the heaving crowd of painted warriors, with every wild eye fastened upon his face.
"These paleface boys carry no arms," he said. "Some warrior has the gun of each. Let them bring to me the shooting sticks, that I may examine them!"
And, as he heard these words, somehow the heart of Bob gave a leap for joy.