“What have we here, Henri?” exclaimed the man Kate had seen. She was struggling in the rude grasp of the other fellow, but was like a baby in the clutch of his powerful hands.
“I am surprised, Jacques, at what I have here,” was the reply, in French. “This girl, she surely must be the same we know lives in the cabin, up on the Ohio, belonging to our enemy, Armstrong. Yes, I am not mistaken. But what brings her down in this country of the Mississippi?”
Evidently both French trappers were astounded to see Kate there. Many hundreds of miles stood between the little settlement far up the Ohio and this region; and in those primitive days this represented an almost insurmountable obstacle.
“Look again and make sure, Henri,” said the other fellow, himself striding forward to leer into the face of the terrified girl, who by now understood that these men were the rascals who had given them so much trouble, trying to injure both Sandy and Bob, and finally robbing their cabin home when it was in the grip of the flood.
Why, one of them was even then wearing the wonderful wampum belt which Pontiac himself had bestowed upon the boys as an emblem of his friendship, and as a protection to their home against the savage fury of any Indians who belonged to the great confederation of which he was the leader.
“Well, what do you say now, Jacques?” demanded the first trapper, with a chuckle.
“Sacre! it is as you say; hard to believe as it is, she must be the same girl. Ha! I have an idea! It may explain the sound of the axes which we heard such long time on the trail now, as we come back once more to our old campground. See, there is the little boat she paddle down the river in. I begin to scent the truth now, Henri.”
“Then supposing you inform me as to the same, since I am groping in the dark,” demanded the other Frenchman.
“It may be that, if we but come closer to the old camp, we shall find it occupied by some of the hateful English settlers. I would not put it past them to descend the Ohio in a flatboat, till they come here. They have the nerve to face all the French along the Mississippi. And, Henri, among the rest is our old enemy, Armstrong. So you see now how the girl comes to be here.”
They stared at each other as though hardly able to believe the facts thus presented by the shrewd statement made by Jacques Larue.
Meanwhile Kate had almost ceased her struggles, because she could only with difficulty breathe, having that broad palm thrust over her mouth, and gripped, as she was, in the strong arm of the trapper.
Oh! how she wished that her brave brothers would only appear just then, and take these two ruffians to task for all they had done. How like savages they looked, in her eyes, with their brutal faces. And Henri Lacroix was not a bit careful as he held her, so that she might not scream, and thus give the alarm. What would they do with her? The very thought brought a cold chill to the poor girl.
Once Kate had been taken prisoner by a young Indian chief belonging to the Iroquois nation, and carried far away to the country of the Great Lakes. Eventually she had been rescued by her two brothers, assisted by others, and brought back safely home. But she would never forget what she had suffered in mind during the time of her captivity.
And yet she really feared these two rough men more than she had the Indians. As she looked into their snapping black eyes, she seemed to see lurking there passions that would stop at nothing, even murder, in order to carry out any mad scheme to which they had turned their attention. Even the girl could realize how Henri Lacroix longed to avenge the death of his brother, Armand, at the hands of Simon Kenton, the friend of the Armstrong family.
If she could only manage to give one loud cry, surely some one would hear; and at any rate these cowardly French trappers, becoming alarmed for their safety, would drop her, and take to their heels, fearing lest the settlers shoot them down like wolves. But Henri Lacroix evidently did not mean to give her the slightest chance to make any outcry, judging from the way in which he kept his hand over her mouth.
“This is no place for us, Jacques,” he was saying now, nodding his head in the direction whence came the steady plod of the axes.
“But I hate to go away, and leave them no token of our good wishes,” remarked the second trapper, with a wide grin that somehow made poor Kate tremble again.
If only they would let her speak, how gladly would she have promised not to whisper a single word about their having been near by, until hours had elapsed, and they had a chance to get clear away; but Henri Lacroix would not give her that chance, in fear lest she bring vengeful foes down about their ears.
“Ve haf a long bill to settle wif zem boys,” remarked Lacroix, in his broken English.
“It took us some time to strike von blow, when we lay hold upon zis belt; and when we come away to ze country of ze Mississippi we do not expect evaire to set eyes again on zem. But, parbleu! ze fools follow us here; zey even dare build zere hateful Eenglish cabins on zis river zat belongs to ze French alone. Zat is too much for us to stand. For ze lilies of France we must strike a blow zat vill tell zem zey nevaire can remain here.”
“I am of ze same opinion,” declared the other Frenchman, gritting his strong white teeth in a way that renewed all the fears of the captive girl.
Were these men even more savage than the redskins, and would they actually kill her, as she had heard of others being treated by whites who had joined forces with the Indians in the cruel wars that were always in progress?
“It is plain, when we leave here, we cannot be trouble with the girl,” observed Jacques Larue, in French. Then, as he seemed to allow his roving eyes to glance toward the river, just seen through openings in the trees, a grim smile broke over his swarthy face, while he went on speaking: “Ha! I have deescovered a plan that promises well. It will not only get rid of the ma’m’selle in a fine way, but at the same time strike a blow at our old enemy, Armstrong. The boys perhaps may not feel so proud because they once get the better of your dead brother, Armand Lacroix, and Jacques Larue.”
“Tell me your plan, then; and, since we are now in a place of much danger, the quicker we put it into operation the better, it may be,” said Henri.
“Listen,” the other went on, quickly. “Let us bind this girl so she cannot run away. Also we will fasten over her mouth a bandage, and that will prevent any outcry and call for help.”
“Yes, and then?” asked Henri Lacroix.
“We can lay her in the boat she has down here,” continued Jacques. “Then, after we have tucked her in, pouf! the little boat sails from the shore, and is carried down the current of the mighty Mississippi! Day and night it floats on, the sport of wind and waves. And the Armstrongs will never know what became of the girl!”
Even the cruel Henri seemed to be a little disturbed at the inhumanity exhibited in this plan of revenge; but, as he remembered the fate of his brother, he crushed any objections he might have advanced, and nodded his head, as though agreeing with his mate.
“You are right, it is a beautiful idea,” he declared. “The only thing that I like not is the fact that we cannot ourselves see how they feel when they not be able to find the daughter. Ah! it is a noble scheme! Let us then begin the good work by fastening the hands of our captive.”
He took out some stout buckskin thongs, of which every borderer carried a supply, as they were useful in many ways. Kate tried the best she knew how to interfere with his brutal designs, but in the power of those two men she was as weak as a babe, and before three minutes had passed her hands had been tightly lashed together behind her back.
After that the trapper proceeded to secure her ankles in the same way, so that she felt herself absolutely helpless.
“Now for the beautiful gag,” said Jacques, when this part of the undertaking had been completed.
He took out of the pack he carried a piece of cloth, which he managed to fasten across the mouth of the girl in such a fashion that, while she could still breathe with some effort, speech was impossible.
At any rate, they apparently did not mean to bring about her immediate death. Perhaps they feared lest, in such a case, some of those hardy English rangers might set out on their trail, with the determination never to leave it until they had avenged the fate of Armstrong’s daughter.
“How will that do, Henri, mon cher?” asked Jacques, gaily, stepping back to admire his own handwork, with the air of an expert.
“Capital! I congratulate you, Jacques, on being such a good hand at such work,” the other answered. “Perhaps Armstrong will follow the boat down the river, and rescue the girl; but it will put them to great trouble, and perhaps they will regret raising a hand to injure Jacques Larue and Henri Lacroix.”
“You carry her to the boat, while I go ahead to make sure nobody may see us do the work,” and, speaking in this strain, the burly trapper led off, with Henri coming along in the rear, bearing the form of Kate as easily as though she were a sack of feathers intended for a pillow.
It was found that a little bend of the shore intervened above, so that the spot where the settlers must have landed could not be seen. They caught a glimpse of the extreme outer edge of the tied-up flatboat, which fact told the trappers they had guessed truly as to the means taken by the Ohio settlers in descending to the region of the Mississippi.
Henri deposited the helpless form of the girl in the bottom of the dugout. Then, with a heartlessness that seemed to be a part of their half-savage natures, the two French trappers shoved the boat away from the shore.
It was immediately caught by the current that flowed more swiftly at this point than above, and began to drift down-stream. The Frenchmen dared not wait, lest, in exposing themselves they be discovered by hostile eyes; but, with more or less laughter that, reaching the ears of the alarmed girl, must have added to her tortures, they turned and plunged again into the woods.
And the little boat, passing on into swifter waters, was soon swirling and dancing gaily on the bosom of the broad Mississippi, bearing Kate Armstrong further and further away from all those she held dear.
“I think we had better stop and take a little breathing spell, Sandy.”
“Nothing would please me better, Bob. This meat pack is very heavy, and it seems to me as if the air had grown much warmer. Summer has come, down here, surely. Oh! how good it feels to throw that burden down, and be able to stretch my arms, which ache as if they had a cramp.”
“But all the same, Sandy, we ought to be glad that we have been able to knock over that fine buck, from which all this fresh venison comes. And we are not greedy in carrying such big loads, for there are many hungry mouths to fill, with four families to think of. Let us rest here, then, and be refreshed for another spell of walking.”
It was well on in the afternoon when Bob and Sandy, on the way home from their hunt, exchanged these remarks. Each had a large pack on his back, for, shortly after noon, they had come across a deer, and succeeded in killing the animal at the first shot.
“How far below the camp do you think we are?” Sandy presently asked, as he lay there taking his ease, with his hands under his head.
“I hardly know,” replied Bob, “but it must be several miles. My idea was to do the same as we used to up on the Ohio—strike for the river first of all, and try to make our way back by keeping to the open stretch of shore.”
“Well, we are already close to the river, though perhaps you didn’t know it when you said we had better take a rest. See, you can look out on the water right here,” and Sandy pointed as he spoke.
“Sure enough, it is as you say, and that makes it easier,” Bob replied. “I thought that I had my bearings all right; but, then, we know so little of this country, and none at all about the river; so there is always a chance we might miss seeing it for a long time. So you understand I’m glad enough to look out and see that running water.”
“This is a fine big buck we got,” remarked Sandy, reflectively.
“Yes, and as large as any I’ve ever seen,” Bob added.
“I don’t know how it is,” Sandy continued, with a faint smile; “but something in me just seems to take a savage pleasure in getting after big game. Somehow I don’t care for shooting partridges or ducks any more. Even a deer seems tame to me. If it is a big bear, a panther or a buffalo I think I’m in great luck. Some day—” and there he came to a sudden stop.
“Well, what about some day?” demanded the other, turning to look at him.
Sandy gave a reckless little chuckle, and then went on:
“Oh! I suppose you’ll just laugh at me, and say that I’m foolish to let myself dream in that way; but it’s another of Pat’s stories that has been setting me to thinking, and wondering whether I’ll ever have the chance to shoot one of those tremendous beasts.”
“What is it now, a tiger, a lion or an elephant?” asked Bob, scornfully.
“Oh! no,” replied Sandy, promptly; “nothing that can be found outside of this country and Canada. Pat has seen them many times, and even been gored by a great bull moose. You can see the scar on his cheek even now, where he had a bad wound, by which he almost bled to death.”
“And you mean to go away up into Canada to hunt for one of these moose, as they call them?” demanded the older brother, incredulously.
“Well, hardly that,” answered Sandy, with a little hesitation. “You see, Pat, he says he believes moose can be found up that other big river that flows into the Mississippi above the Ohio. And some day, it may not be for years though, I hope to see with my own eyes whether that is true.”
“We have taken some long journeys, but that would exceed them all,” remarked Bob, thoughtfully; and Sandy chuckled as he realized that, after all, his prudent brother had determined that, if ever that trip were undertaken, he would never allow Sandy to go alone.
“I feel rested already,” remarked Sandy, sitting up; “and besides, I’m anxious to get back to see how things look, with mother sitting there beside a fire in our new cabin. It will feel so good to have our own roof over our heads again. Oh! Bob, what is that floating past yonder? I do declare, it looks like a boat!”
The two sprang to their feet and stared.
“Yes, you are right, Sandy, it is a boat; and yet, for the life of me, I fail to see a living soul in it. There is no paddle flashing in the sunlight. It seems to be deserted. Come, let us leave our meat here, and run to the shore, so we can see better.”
Nothing loath, Sandy trotted along at the heels of his brother, and in the course of a minute or so they had gained the bank of the river. It happened that, when Sandy first discovered the drifting object, it had caught in an eddy that kept holding it back, so that although some little time had elapsed, the object of their scrutiny was still opposite to them.
To discover an empty dugout on the river was a strange event, indeed. The Armstrong boys could not remember ever having such a thing happen before in all their experience; and it was no wonder then that they stared and rubbed their eyes as if they could hardly believe what they saw.
“Can it be a sly trick on the part of Indians to keep our attention fastened on that boat while they slip up behind us?” Sandy asked, turning his head to look around him at the grim forest.
“But they would not know we were coming along here,” interposed Bob; “and so, you see, how could they think to lay a plan like that? No, we need feel no fears on that score. And then again, you know, Sandy, our own people are only a short two miles or so above here. If the river were straight I believe we could see them even now.”
“But, Bob, where could that boat have come from? I’ve a good notion to strip and swim out after it. We could make good use of another dugout like ours. And it is just the same kind of a boat, too, don’t you think?”
“I was thinking something even more than that, Sandy,” returned Bob.
“What?” demanded the other, still eying the strange craft that bobbed and danced in the eddying currents of the river, as though tantalizing them, before once more starting on down the great stream.
“It might be our own boat!” suggested Bob.
“Oh! how could that be?” asked the other, catching his breath, and turning a troubled face toward his brother. “They are always so particular to keep it tied fast to the flatboat, you remember. Why, no one thinks of using it these days, for we have all been too busy working, to think of fishing, or trying for a few ducks.”
“You forget that Kate has paddled around in it a good deal of late!” said Bob, slowly.
Sandy became excited at once, just as his brother had expected would be the case.
“Oh! do you mean to say that something might have happened to Kate?” he asked, a tremor in his voice, for the boys were very fond of their little sister.
“I do not know; I hope not, surely,” muttered Bob, looking again out toward the drifting boat; “but, if that is our boat, you can see, Sandy, how strange that it should be afloat there, and no one in it to use the paddle.”
Sandy laid his gun quietly on the ground.
“Don’t say another word against it, Bob,” he remarked grimly, as he started to remove some of his garments.
“Be careful, is all I ask you, Sandy,” Bob replied. “They tell us the currents of the Mississippi are treacherous, and that they often clutch a swimmer as if they had many hands. If the boat starts down-stream again, as I fancy may be the case, I will follow along the shore, bearing both guns.”
Sandy hastened to divest himself of all superfluous clothing, at the same time keeping one eye on the strange boat.
He was a splendid swimmer; indeed, the boy had ever been like a duck in the water, so that Bob felt little fear about his ability to reach the boat, and tow it ashore, unless some unexpected development occurred.
“Keep out of range as you draw closer, Sandy,” he remarked.
“What makes you say that, Bob?” demanded the other. “It sounds as if you expected to have to use your gun. Come, do you think Indians might be lying in the bottom of the boat, ready to rise up and seize a swimmer, if he came close; or fill him full of arrows?”
“Here is a tree that I can easily climb,” remarked Bob. “Wait a minute while I get up among the branches. Perhaps I can tell then if enemies are crouching in that boat. Don’t start till I come back, Sandy.”
He climbed like a monkey, and was quickly in a position where he could take a partial view of the strange craft’s interior.
But Bob did not stay there long. Whatever it was he saw, he dropped down again to the ground much faster than he had climbed aloft.
“Did you see any Indians?” asked Sandy, now ready to plunge into the water.
“No, I cannot say that I did,” came the reply, in a perplexed tone. “But there is something lying in the bottom of that boat. It is not a bundle, either, for I plainly saw it move.”
Sandy waited for no more.
“Then I’m going out and see for myself!” he declared, as though some half-formed fear had commenced to assail him.
Stepping into the water, he hurried to reach a point where it arose to his waist. Then he threw himself forward, and began to strike out with overhand strokes that had many times carried him ahead of all competitors in the water races the boys of the settlement used to have, away back in Virginia, before the Armstrongs had even thought of emigrating across the mountains to the new country along the Ohio.
Bob picked up Sandy’s gun, and such parts of his clothing as he had discarded. Then he started to walk down the shore, because he saw that the boat had finally succeeded in extricating itself from the clutch of the cross eddies, and was once more moving southward with the steady current of the river.
And meanwhile Sandy was breasting the stream with powerful strokes, headed so as to intercept the floating boat when it came along; and with a new and terrible fear clutching at his heart.
As he followed along the strip of open shore, Bob saw his impetuous brother drawing nearer and nearer to the floating dugout. He half expected to see some grim figure start suddenly into view, threatening Sandy with a deadly weapon, either gun or bow and arrow.
Now Sandy had reached up a hand and clutched the side of the boat. He exhibited not a sign of fear, from which fact Bob understood that, on getting close, he had recognized the craft as the one they had brought with them from their old home.
He saw the other pull himself up, and look within the boat. What would not Bob have given to see all that met the gaze of his brother just then.
Sandy’s actions rather puzzled him, for the latter, turning half-way around, waved a hand toward him, as if to say all was well; after which he dropped back into the water, and started to tow the boat in the direction of the shore.
Eagerly did Bob keep abreast of the swimmer. Sandy did not try to fight the current, but was evidently desirous of getting to land as quickly as possible, regardless of all else.
And when he finally stood up where the water was shallow, and dragged the boat along, Bob, in his eagerness, waded half-way to his knees. What he saw when he looked over the edge of the boat thrilled him. At first he thought Kate must have met with some serious accident and was lying dead. Then he saw her eyes were open, and that a bandage covered her mouth.
Bob snatched his sister up in his arms without a second’s delay, for Sandy was too exhausted after his swim to do much.
The cloth was hastily torn away, and then the sharp edge of Bob’s hunting knife cut the leather thongs that bound the girl.
“What does all this mean, Kate?” cried Bob, in a voice that quivered with anxiety. “Oh! has anything terrible happened to father and mother, that we find you like this?”
She shook her head in the negative.
“No, no, nothing has happened to them. It was the Frenchmen who did it!” she explained, though with some difficulty, since the tight bandage had hurt her jaws.
Bob and his brother stared at each other.
“Do you mean Jacques Larue?” demanded Bob, furiously.
“And that other rascal, Henri Lacroix—the brother of the dead Armand?” Sandy added, equally enraged.
“Yes,” replied the girl, looking as though, now that rescue had come, she would not be sorry to see punished the men who had treated her so badly.
“This is a wonderful thing,” Bob went on; “tell us how it happened. Where were you when they caught you; and how is it you did not call out?”
So Kate explained how she had been taken by surprise, and, before she could say a single word, the hand of Henri Lacroix had stifled all speech.
“And they had your fine wampum belt with them, Sandy,” she went on, eagerly. “He was wearing it as proudly as if he had saved the life of Pontiac, himself,—Jacques Larue, I mean. And they said that they wanted to pay the Armstrongs back for much that they had suffered.”
“And, like the base cowards they are,” Bob grated between his teeth, “they set a poor helpless girl adrift on the river in a little dugout that might be upset in some cross current, where the fierce eddies swirl!”
“And wouldn’t I like a chance to draw a bead on either of them right now,” said Sandy, looking all around him, as he fondled his faithful old gun, with which he had done so much execution among the game of the forests.
“But we should be on the way home!” declared Bob. “Father and Pat must know of this new outrage that we have suffered at the hands of these miserable trappers, who would rather spend their time stealing game that others have caught than to attend to a line of their own traps. If father lets us, Sandy, make sure we will take Pat with us, and start on the trail at once.”
“To regain those little treasures mother mourns as lost forever; that is just fine,” said Kate, eagerly, for she was a backwoods girl, and could recover quickly, after even such a shocking experience.
“Not to speak of our wonderful belt,” added Sandy, who was slipping on some of the clothes he had discarded.
In a few minutes they were hurrying back along the shore. The boat had been pulled up on the beach and the painter fastened to a convenient tree, so that the chances were they would find the craft there, when some one came back after it.
Neither of the boys felt like paddling two miles against the current of the Mississippi just then. Besides, they were anxious to get back to their father. Perhaps the absence of Kate might have been discovered by this time, and considerable anxiety have been aroused.
But, when they came to the spot where their packs of venison had been left, the boys could not resist the temptation to obtain them again. Meat was needed too badly in the settlement to think of taking chances of the wolves running off before morning with the entire stock.
They had apparently entirely forgotten about having been tired before this new and surprising thing came about. At least, to see the nimble way in which the two boys advanced along the river shore, no one would think they exhibited the least sign of weariness.
In due time they approached the bustling scene where the men were chopping so industriously. Toward one cabin that seemed to be about finished they hastened. Mrs. Armstrong, chancing to come to the open door, saw them, and something seemed to tell her the boys were bringing bad news, for she waited for them there, and her face did not seem so filled with sunshine as it had been when they first sighted her.
When the story of Kate’s second abduction had been told, Mr. Armstrong was furious. He readily agreed to the proposition advanced by Sandy, that he and his brother be allowed to take up the trail of the rascally Frenchmen as soon as Pat came home, as it happened unfortunately that the Irish trapper was somewhere out in the woods just then.
The other men were called in, and Kate told her little story again. Black looks told plainly what they thought; and for either Larue or Lacroix to have been seen by any one of those English settlers just then, would have undoubtedly meant his death warrant.
Of course they understood that news of their coming would now be carried to the nearest French trading post; but then they had not anticipated being able to keep this a secret long, it being the hope of Mr. Armstrong that the French would recognize in them allies against England, and thus condone their coming—perhaps extend to them the right hand of fellowship.
Several times Sandy would rush outside to ascertain whether Pat had shown up as yet. He had no eyes just then for the cosy interior of the new cabin. Later on, when this load had been taken off Sandy’s mind, he would think just as highly as any one of the delightful comforts to be enjoyed beside the family hearth. Just now he could think of nothing but the miserable deed of those French trappers, and the fact that one of them was even at that moment wearing the valuable belt of wampum. The great Pontiac had bestowed this upon Sandy, because it had been a bullet from his gun that had pierced the arm of a madman who was about to bring down a war-club on the sachem’s head.
The afternoon was going all too fast to suit Sandy. It would be dark before three hours, and then how could they overtake the Frenchmen, who, given such a long start, would get beyond their reach?
More than ever did he long to once again lay his hands, as the rightful owner, on that beautiful belt of sacred shells, which bore the well-known totem of the big chief under whom the various tribes had united against the palefaces.
Almost a full hour was lost in this way. Then Pat came sauntering in, never dreaming how his absence had fretted the boys.
Quickly he was made acquainted with the situation; and, no sooner had he heard about the two Frenchmen, and how they had treated Kate Armstrong, than Pat was on fire to take to the war-path.
So he and the two boys left the settlement. They headed directly for the spot described by Kate as the place where she had been surprised by Jacques and his equally bold companion.
Once there, the trained vision of Pat O’Mara quickly found the tracks made by the moccasins of the men. They followed them to the edge of the water, where according to the mark made by the prow of the dugout, it was plainly seen that the boat had been shoved out into the river.
Pat took up the trail from that point, and followed it very much as a trained hound might have done; only the sense of sight had to serve him rather than that of scent.
Close at his heels came the two boys, each with his rifle held in readiness for instant use, in case the enemy were sighted. They could not tell but that the reckless Frenchmen might have concluded to hover around, and wait to see if any of the hated English settlers tried to follow them.
But, as the afternoon wore on, and they kept making steady progress away from the river, they came to the conclusion that Jacques and Henri must have had some scheme in mind of cutting off a great bend in the river, the existence of which was well known to them. By making this straight cut across country, perhaps they were saving themselves many miles’ tramp.
All of this was of course based upon the supposition that they meant to keep on heading into the south, and perhaps reaching the lower country at New Orleans.
As they walked steadily along, from time to time Sandy, of course, felt compelled to air his grievances, and he was always sure of a sympathetic auditor in his brother.
“Isn’t it a shame that we won’t be able to catch up with them before dark comes?” Sandy began.
“Well, how do we know that yet?” returned Bob.
“Do you really think there’s any chance, then?” asked the other, feverishly.
“About one in ten,” answered Bob. “Something might cause them to stop, and go into camp. Then, as evening came on we would sight their fire, and be able to steal up close to them. Or it might be one of them could twist his ankle in a creeper, and have a tumble that would bruise him so badly he would want to lie over to rest up. There’s always a slender chance of such things happening, you know, Sandy.”
“Oh! to be sure, I understand all that,” return the other; “but, altogether it’s less than one chance in ten of its happening; I think you might have said twenty, while you were about it. But, see, Pat has halted. I hope he hasn’t lost the trail. That would finish us, I’m afraid.”
Pat turned to the boys, and they could see a quizzical gleam in his blue eyes. Bob felt sure the genial Irish trapper must have heard the complaining words of Sandy, and was in the humor to take them with at least a grain of allowance. He understood the nature of the lad.
“Sure, they arre thryin’ their level best to pull the wool over the eyes av anny wan that undertakes to follow,” Pat was saying.
“In what way, Pat?” asked Bob, immediately understanding that the trapper had been reading the signs closely.
“By some av the oldest thricks a sly fox iver practised. Av ye look here ye may say where they jumped on this same fallen tree, and walked along the trunk a good ways. Go as ye plaze, I defy yees to diskiver where the sarpints lift that same tree trunk. But bliss ye, ’tis as plain as the nose on me face; and nobody’d have the laste throuble about saing that. Come wid me, now, and be afther lookin’ at the way they jumped from the log into the bush beyant. Notice how the same is crushed down in the wan spot. ’Tis there they landed, troth; and from that point we must now take up the thrail afresh.”
It proved to be just as Pat said. Among the bushes they easily detected the now well-known tracks of the two French trappers. They had undoubtedly run along the tree trunk, and, at the most favorable part, made a flying leap so as to land at some little distance away, and in the midst of a thicket, hoping to thus throw any possible pursuer off the trail. But the trick was so palpable and so ancient, that it is doubtful whether even Sandy himself would have long been held in check.
Frontier lads early learned a multitude of things connected with trailing that had to be known in order to give them equal advantages with the cunning Indian, or the wise four-footed denizens of the woods. They understood the nature of the animal that made certain tracks, whither he was bound at the time, whether toward home or in search of his prey; just how he limped with one of his legs that had likely been injured at some time; how he crouched in the snow, perhaps waiting until his intended quarry came within reach, and then sprang—to fall short, because the imprint of his paws lay in plain view and those made by the feet of the escaping creature were just beyond. In many ways they could read the story by means of the telltale tracks. An education may not always mean ability to talk in Latin, or read scientific works; both of which would be very poor accomplishments when out in the great wilderness.
So Pat was able to follow the Frenchmen, no matter how many times they resorted to tricks of this sort. In the first place he had done similar things himself on many occasions, and was therefore familiar with them all; and then again, Pat was on the constant lookout for trickery, and the instant he lost sight of the trail, his first act was to look around and decide what he would probably have done, had he been seeking to escape under the same circumstances.
“It’s already getting a little dim; don’t you think, Bob?” asked Sandy, after they had been moving along in this fashion for considerably more than an hour.
“I’m afraid that’s so, Sandy,” returned the other.
“And pretty soon Pat will be telling us that he can follow the trail no longer,” pursued the disconsolate one. “Then here we’ll have to settle down for the night, and wait for it to get light enough to see, when we’ll be off in a big hurry. I wish I could do what Joshua did, you know, Bob.”
“Make the sun stand still, you mean, Sandy?”
“Yes, because that would give us more time to keep chasing after these rascally Frenchmen,” replied the other, with vehemence.
“Oh! yes, but you forget that, if the daylight remained, and they kept on moving all the time, they would be holding their own against us, and continuing to play those tricks that so far have failed to hoodwink Pat.”
“But I hope he will never think of giving up the pursuit as long as we can find a single trace of where they have gone. This is the last chance we’re ever going to have to get back that belt; and something tells me that, if we keep after them, just like the wolf does the wounded stag, day and night, without ever quitting, why, we’re just bound to catch up with Jacques and Henri—some time or other.”
“Wait and see what happens,” was all Bob would say; but Sandy knew that his elder brother had considerable persistency in his nature; and on this account he hugged a hope that Bob would want to keep on the track of the thieves until in the end they were overhauled.
But it certainly was growing dusk rapidly. Pat had to bend over more and more to see what he wanted. At any minute Bob expected to hear the trapper declare that it would be folly to try to track the Frenchmen any longer, unless they chose to make use of a torch, which would be a dangerous proceeding, since they were apt to attract the notice of any roving Indian who might happen to be in the vicinity.
And sure enough, Pat presently came to a full stop, calmly proceeding to charge his little pipe, at which he puffed with evident relish.
“The game is up for the night, me byes,” he said, calmly. “We do be havin’ to settle down here, and wait for the day to come, whin I’ll again sthart away. I doubt that the rogues will thry to throw the dust in our eyes again; and so we kin make better time, wance we get stharted. It’s harrd, I do be understandin’; but what’s the use thryin’ to smash your head ag’inst a stone wall? Bitter far, jist take it aisy-like, and belave it’s all a-goin’ to come out right in the ind.”
They went into camp. Bob had been wise enough to bring along a portion of the fresh venison, so there was no need of any one going hungry; and Pat took it upon himself to build the cleverest little cooking fire they ever saw, so fashioned that, even in the darkness that came upon them presently, it could not have been seen twenty feet away.
After partaking of their supper, the three settled down to spend a long and tiresome night under the trees of that forest bordering the bank of the Mississippi.
Sandy slept very little, Bob felt sure, because every time the latter woke up he could see the other sitting there, hugging his knees with his arms, and with an anxious face turned squarely toward the east, as though desirous of knowing when the first faint peep of daybreak arrived.
And really it was one of the longest nights Bob himself could ever remember passing through. It seemed as though dawn would never come.
But finally Pat stirred, and, sitting up, announced that they had better be making a fire, if they hoped to have a bite before starting off. How he knew what the time was might seem a deep mystery to those unacquainted with the ways of a woodsman. The chances were that Pat, who used the heavens for his clock, had decided that a certain star would be just at a particular point an hour before daylight, and this was plenty of time for their needs.
So once more they were on the move, as soon as the light was strong enough for Pat to take up the trail.
The two Frenchmen evidently believed that they had long since baffled any possible pursuer. Indeed, they could hardly dream that they would be followed at all. The little band of English, that had thus boldly invaded the territory so long claimed by the French, must be only a weak branch of the rival race; and surely would never dare venture far away from their base, lest they be overwhelmed by hostile Indians.
Consequently, Pat was enabled to make very good time along the trail, now that he had the light of day to assist him.
They came upon the ashes of a fire after a while, showing that the men they were chasing must have camped not a great distance away from their own resting place, certainly no more than three miles.
Pat could tell by placing his hand among the still warm ashes just how long before the place had been deserted; just as he was able to discover from the tracks what space of time had elapsed since the men passed along.
Their caution increased as the morning advanced, for they realized that they were rapidly overhauling the two Frenchmen; and, as these worthies had been spending the better part of their lives among the Indians and wild animals of the frontier, it was to be expected that they were well versed in all the ways of the borderman.
Noon found them stealing along like shadows. Pat had announced in a whisper that he believed they would come upon their men resting in the heat of the day; and he had hopes that they might thus take them by surprise.
Ten minutes later he made gestures that told the two pioneer boys the pleasing news of discovery. The Frenchmen had indeed halted to build a small fire, and, having eaten, were now lying flat on their backs, enjoying a noon nap, little dreaming that enemies could be creeping upon them, just as the sly panther crawls, inch by inch, upon his prey.
And when Bob and Sandy presently caught sight of the two recumbent figures they felt a thrill of eagerness and satisfaction, such as always accompanies successful attainment.
Creeping along, with their guns held in readiness for instant use, the three gradually approached the sleepers. Pat frequently paused to observe closely. Bob knew what he was keeping in mind; for the trapper had only lately been telling a story of how once he had been followed by a pair of hardened border renegades, who hoped to catch him asleep and wind up his career. Pat had managed, before they came up, to divest himself of certain of his garments, which he stuffed with dead leaves and arranged so that it looked as though he might be sleeping near his flickering fire. And, when the intended murderers crept near, he was conveniently placed for opening fire upon them.
In that case the border had been well rid of a pair of rascals, and many a settler’s home rendered the more secure because of Pat’s ruse.
But the shrewd Irish trapper did not mean to be caught by any similar trick; and that was why he was making positive, as he advanced, that the two figures were real flesh and blood, and no make-believe forms. And, when he saw each of them move an arm or leg, as a fly or mosquito bothered them, this fact was soon so apparent that Pat lost all fear.
It had already been fully arranged what the programme should be, under such conditions. Pat was to throw himself upon one recumbent figure, while the two boys covered the other with their guns, and threatened him with immediate death unless he held up his hands.
When all was ready, and Pat just about to carry out his part of the arrangement, Henri, who, it happened, had been selected for the victim of the boys, suddenly sat up, and started to stretch, as he yawned sleepily.
Imagine his amazement at seeing three crouching figures within a few feet of him, while two muskets were levelled at his head. Stricken dumb with surprise he could only stare and gasp.
Meanwhile Pat was not idle. With a leap that a panther might have envied he was upon the second figure. Jacques Larue had not the faintest chance. Taken utterly unawares, and at a complete disadvantage, he was as putty in the hands of the stalwart Irish trapper, even though himself a man of sinew.
“Don’t so much as move a hand except to raise them above your head, Henri Lacroix, or you are a dead man!” exclaimed Bob, sternly.
True, these two were only boys, but the Frenchman knew to his sorrow that they were to be feared just as much as men. And it was almost ludicrous to see how quickly he elevated his hands, and made motions with his head to indicate that he gave in.
After that it was no hard task to bind the trappers, though first of all their weapons were taken. They looked alarmed, as indeed they had good cause for being, since they had long been a thorn in the flesh of these English settlers, and might expect to be treated harshly. And doubtless they both remembered with regret how they had just lately done a rascally deed, for which these three might well demand their lives as a recompense.
Had they not known that Pat O’Mara must have trailed them from the place where they set the dugout adrift, containing Mr. Armstrong’s daughter, Jacques Larue and Henri Lacroix might have stoutly denied all knowledge of the crime. As it was they kept their lips sealed, and remained mute.
When, however, Bob and Sandy, astonished and chagrined at not finding the wampum belt upon either of the Frenchmen, although they recovered most of the little keepsakes lost by their mother, demanded to know where it had been hidden, Jacques took it upon himself to explain, with many extravagant shrugs of his broad shoulders; for even in those days his countrymen, even as now, do considerable of their talking with gestures.
“I haf not seen ze belt since last night!” he declared. “Ven I allow myself to go to sleep she is here about my vaist as before; yet, sacré! it amaze me to find ven I am open my eyes dis same morning zat ze belt no longer adorn my person. So it seem zat while I sleep some unknown von, he crawl into ze camp, and take avay ze belt, and me not any ze wiser. I feel nossings, know nossings, only ze belt she be disappear.”
“Did you not suspect that your friend, Henri here, might have taken a notion to take the belt and hide it?” asked Bob, as soon as he could recover from the shock which this declaration gave him.
“Zat is exact vat pass through my mind!” exclaimed Jacques, eagerly. “He, himself, tell you ze same, because him I accuse. But hold on, he say, let us then examine ze ground, and know ze truth. So zat is vat ve do, accordingly. Great is our amazement to learn zat an Indian, he crawl into our camp as ve sleep. I know ze tracks only too vell to believe zat it can be a white man. And I gif you my vord, Monsieur O’Mara, zat ees ze truth, ze whole truth, and nossings but ze truth.”
Bob and Sandy were grievously disappointed. Whether, as Larue declared, some unknown Indian had really crept upon them while they slept, and were wholly off their guard, taking only the sacred wampum belt, as though that were the single object of his mission; or whether, on the other hand, Larue had secreted the belt for reasons of his own, the result was all the same so far as they were concerned, since the belt was gone.
After talking it over, they decided that the two prisoners should be taken to the new settlement. They hardly felt in a condition to declare what measure of punishment should be meted out to such scoundrels; and would much rather a council of the elder men decided this question.
Jacques and Henri seemed very much cast down. They belonged to a class of bordermen who believed in the old adage, “an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth;” and under the circumstances had reason to expect nothing in the way of mercy from Mr. Armstrong, whom they had attempted to injure many times.
So the return march was taken up, it being the desire of the boys to reach their destination that day, even though the journey continued into the hours of darkness.
Pat knew that, by taking a bee-line route across country, they could cut off a considerable distance. When a bee is loaded with honey it always rises up, as if to take an observation, and then makes a direct line for its hive, even though a full mile away from it at the time. Many claim that it is a peculiar “homing instinct” that guides the little insect at such times; but this, on the other hand, seems far from being the case; since, if the hive be moved in the night time, the bees, starting out in the morning, will not return to the old position, but fly straight to the new.
To lose Pat O’Mara in any woods would be next to impossible, because he was perfectly at home there, and, although they were now passing over ground which he saw for the first time that afternoon, the accuracy of his deduction was made manifest just about dusk, when Sandy declared that he certainly heard the well-known sound of an axe being used upon firewood, somewhere ahead.
Half an hour later, they walked in on the sentry who stood guard, and whose quick hearing, detecting their advance, caused a peremptory challenge.
Great was the rejoicing among the settlers when they saw how successful had been the chase after the rascally trappers belonging to that league of French Canadians who were employed all along the great river in catching the rich pelt-bearing animals inhabiting that region, or else trading with the Indians for their furs.
When Mrs. Armstrong found almost all of her little belongings returned to her, she was of course delighted; though this circumstance was of small value in her fond eyes as compared with the safe home-coming of her brave boys.
When the story of the missing belt was told, few believed what the Frenchman had advanced as the truth.
The general opinion seemed to be that, for some unknown reason, the pair had secreted the wampum belt somewhere, meaning to get it again at a later time. And some of the settlers were loud in their demand that the men be forced to confess what had been done with the belt, which, if only possessed again, was certain to be a great source of security to the new settlement. They believed it would be a talisman calculated to act as a bar upon the passions of the Indians, as long as the name of Pontiac was held in reverence by the confederated tribes of the middle West.
So the two men were tightly bound and thrust into a cabin that was nearly completed, being told that their fate would be decided at a council later on. They acted in a sullen manner, declaring they had told only the truth; and that, even though the English put them to the stake, they could say nothing different. At the same time Larue took occasion to say that, should their fate ever become known to the commandant of the nearest trading post, an expedition would assuredly be fitted out against the new settlement that would wipe it from the face of the earth.
Mr. Armstrong was uneasy. He knew that the men deserved death, according to the law of the border; and yet, for many reasons, he was personally averse to meting out such judgment upon them.
He was far from being a bloodthirsty man to begin with. Then Kate had really not been injured when in their hands, and he had that to be thankful for; though their method of annoying the English settlers by setting the girl adrift on the river was a cowardly proceeding that surely merited severe punishment.
Last of all, Mr. Armstrong was really desirous of making a truce with the French traders in charge of the posts along the Mississippi. He could see far enough ahead to realize that, when the Colonies split with the Mother Country, the natural allies of the rebels would be the French. And, as far as possible, he did not wish to do anything calculated to defer this adjustment of past differences between the two nations.
And so it was decided to keep the two men shut up for a few days, in order that they would suffer the tortures of uncertainty concerning their fate. Then, if they did not confess concerning the disposal of the precious wampum belt, the English settlers could hold back their weapons, and cast them adrift, to make their way back to the nearest post as best they could; perhaps with a message to the commandant pertaining to the news from the seacoast, and the threatening rupture that was surely coming between England and her rebellious child in America.
Accordingly, three days later, the two men were released, with a stern warning to keep away from this settlement, if they valued their lives.